CHAPTER V.
ANIMADVERSIONS.
From the time when the conversation recorded had in some measuredispelled the fog between them, Roger and Richard Heywood drew rapidlynearer to each other. The father had been but waiting until his sonshould begin to ask him questions, for watchfulness of himself andothers had taught him how useless information is to those who have notfirst desired it, how poor in influence, how soon forgotten; and nowthat the fitting condition had presented itself, he was ready: with lessof reserve than in the relation between them was common amongst thepuritans, he began to pour his very soul into that of his son. All hisinfluence went with that party which, holding that the natural flow ofthe reformation of the church from popery had stagnated in episcopacy,consisted chiefly of those who, in demanding the overthrow of that formof church government, sought to substitute for it what they calledpresbyterianism; but Mr. Heywood belonged to another division of itwhich, although less influential at present, was destined to come by andby to the front, in the strength of the conviction that to stop withpresbyterianism was merely to change the name of the swamp--a partywhose distinctive and animating spirit was the love of freedom, whichindeed, degenerating into a passion among its inferior members, brokeout, upon occasion, in the wildest vagaries of speech and doctrine, buton the other hand justified itself in its leaders, chief amongst whomwere Milton and Cromwell, inasmuch as they accorded to the consciencesof others the freedom they demanded for their own--the love of libertywith them not meaning merely the love of enjoying freedom, but thatrespect for the thing itself which renders a man incapable of violatingit in another.
Roger Heywood was, in fact, already a pupil of Milton, whose anonymouspamphlet of 'Reformation touching Church Discipline' had already reachedhim, and opened with him the way for all his following works.
Richard, with whom my story has really to do, but for the understandingof whom it is necessary that the character and mental position of hisfather should in some measure be set forth, proved an apt pupil, and wassoon possessed with such a passion for justice and liberty, as embodiedin the political doctrines now presented for his acceptance, that it wasimpossible for him to understand how any honest man could be of adifferent mind. No youth, indeed, of simple and noble nature, as yetunmarred by any dominant phase of selfishness, could have failed tocatch fire from the enthusiasm of such a father, an enthusiasm glowingyet restrained, wherein party spirit had a less share thanprinciple--which, in relation to such a time, is to say much. Richard'sheart swelled within him at the vistas of grandeur opened by hisfather's words, and swelled yet higher when he read to him passages fromthe pamphlet to which I have referred. It seemed to him, as to mostyoung people under mental excitement, that he had but to tell the factsof the case to draw all men to his side, enlisting them in the armydestined to sweep every form of tyranny, and especially spiritualusurpation and arrogance, from the face of the earth.
Being one who took everybody at the spoken word, Richard never thoughtof seeking Dorothy again at their former place of meeting. Nor, in thenew enthusiasm born in him, did his thoughts for a good many days turnto her so often, or dwell so much upon her, as to cause any keen senseof their separation. The flood of new thoughts and feelings hadtransported him beyond the ignorant present. In truth, also, he was alittle angry with Dorothy for showing a foolish preference for thechurch party, so plainly in the wrong was it! And what could SHE knowabout the question by his indifference to which she had been soscandalised, but to which he had been indifferent only until rightlyinformed thereon! If he had ever given her just cause to think himchildish, certainly she should never apply the word to him again! If hecould but see her, he would soon convince her--indeed he MUST seeher--for the truth was not his to keep, but to share! It was his duty toacquaint her with the fact that the parliament was the army of God,fighting the great red dragon, one of whose seven heads was prelacy, thehorn upon it the king, and Laud its crown. He wanted a stroll--he wouldtake the path through the woods and the shrubbery to the old sun-dial.She would not be there, of course, but he would walk up the pleachedalley and call at the house.
Reasoning thus within himself one day, he rose and went. But, as heapproached the wood, Dorothy's great mastiff, which she had reared froma pup with her own hand, came leaping out to welcome him, and he wasprepared to find her not far off.
When he entered the yew-circle, there she stood leaning on the dial, asif, like old Time, she too had gone to sleep there, and was dreamingancient dreams over again. She did not move at the first sounds of hisapproach; and when at length, as he stood silent by her side, she liftedher head, but without looking at him, he saw the traces of tears on hercheeks. The heart of the youth smote him.
'Weeping, Dorothy?' he said.
'Yes,' she answered simply.
'I trust I am not the cause of your trouble, Dorothy?'
'You!' returned the girl quickly, and the colour rushed to her palecheeks. 'No, indeed. How should you trouble me? My mother is ill.'
Considering his age, Richard was not much given to vanity, and it wassomething better that prevented him from feeling pleased at being thusexonerated: she looked so sweet and sad that the love which newinterests had placed in abeyance returned in full tide. Even when achild, he had scarcely ever seen her in tears; it was to him a newaspect of her being.
'Dear Dorothy!' he said, 'I am very much grieved to learn this of yourbeautiful mother.'
'She IS beautiful,' responded the girl, and her voice was softer than hehad ever heard it before; 'but she will die, and I shall be left alone.'
'No, Dorothy! that you shall never be,' exclaimed Richard, with aconfidence bordering on presumption.
'Master Herbert is with her now,' resumed Dorothy, heedless of hiswords.
'You do not mean her life is even now in danger?' said Richard, in atone of sudden awe.
'I hope not, but, indeed, I cannot tell. I left master Herbertcomforting her with the assurance that she was taken away from the evilto come. "And I trust, madam," the dear old man went on to say, "that mydeparture will not long be delayed, for darkness will cover the earth,and gross darkness the people." Those were his very words.'
'Nay, nay!' said Richard, hastily; 'the good man is deceived; the peoplethat sit in darkness shall see a great light.'
The girl looked at him with strange interrogation.
'Do not be angry, sweet Dorothy,' Richard went on. 'Old men may mistakeas well as youths. As for the realm of England, the sun of righteousnesswill speedily arise thereon, for the dawn draws nigh; and master Herbertmay be just as far deceived concerning your mother's condition, for shehas been but sickly for a long time, and yet has survived many winters.'
Dorothy looked at him still, and was silent. At length she spoke, andher words came slowly and with weight.
'And what prophet's mantle, if I may make so bold, has fallen uponRichard Heywood, that the word in his mouth should outweigh that of anaged servant of the church? Can it be that the great light of which hespeaks is Richard Heywood himself?'
'As master Herbert is a good man and a servant of God,' said Richard,coldly, stung by her sarcasm, but not choosing to reply to it, 'his wordweighs mightily; but as a servant of the church his word is no weightierthan my father's, who is also a minister of the true tabernacle, thatwherein all who are kings over themselves are priests unto God--thoughtruly he pretends to no prophecy beyond the understanding of the signsof the times.'
Dorothy saw that a wonderful change, such as had been incredible uponany but the witness of her own eyes and ears, had passed on her oldplaymate. He was in truth a boy no longer. Their relative position wasno more what she had been of late accustomed to consider it. But withthe change a gulf had begun to yawn between them.
'Alas, Richard!' she said, mistaking what he meant by the signs of thetimes, 'those who arrogate the gift of the Holy Ghost, while their soleinspiration is the presumption of their own hearts and an overweeningcontempt of authority, may well mistake signs of their ow
n causing forsigns from heaven. I but repeat the very words of good master Herbert.'
'I thought such swelling words hardly sounded like your own, Dorothy.But tell me, why should the persuasion of man or woman hang upon thewords of a fellow-mortal? Is not the gift of the Spirit free to each whoasks it? And are we not told that each must be fully persuaded in hisown mind?'
'Nay, Richard, now I have thee! Hang you not by the word of your father,who is one, and despise the authority of the true church, which ismany?'
'The true church were indeed an authority, but where shall we find it?Anyhow, the true church is one thing, and prelatical episcopacy another.But I have yet to learn what authority even the true church could haveover a man's conscience.'
'You need to be reminded, Richard, that the Lord of the church gavepower to his apostles to bind or loose.'
'I do not need to be so reminded, Dorothy, but I do not need to be shownfirst that that power was over men's consciences; and second, that itwas transmitted to others by the apostles waiving the question as to thedoubtful ordination of English prelates.'
Fire flashed from Dorothy's eyes.
'Richard Heywood,' she said, 'the demon of spiritual pride has alreadyentered into you, and blown you up with a self-sufficiency which I neversaw in you before, or I would never, never have companied with you, as Iam now ashamed to think I have done so long, even to the danger of mysoul's health.'
'In that case I may comfort myself, mistress Dorothy Vaughan,' saidRichard, 'that you will no longer count me a boy! But do you then nolonger desire that I should take one part OR the other and show myself aman? Am I man enough yet for the woman thou art, Dorothy?--But,Dorothy,' he added, with sudden change of tone, for she had in angerturned to leave him, 'I love you dearly, and I am truly sorry if I havespoken so as to offend you. I came hither eager to share with you thegreat things I have learned since you left me with just contempt afortnight ago.'
'Then it is I whose foolish words have cast you into the seat of thescorner! Alas! alas! my poor Richard! Never, never more, while you thusrebel against authority and revile sacred things, will I hold counselwith you.'
And again she turned to go.
'Dorothy!' cried the youth, turning pale with agony to find on the brinkof what an abyss of loss his zeal had set him, 'wilt thou, then, neverspeak to me more, and I love thee as the daylight?'
'Never more till thou repent and turn. I will but give thee one piece ofcounsel, and then leave thee--if for ever, that rests with thee. Therehas lately appeared, like the frog out of the mouth of the dragon, acertain tractate or treatise, small in bulk, but large with the wind ofevil doctrine. Doubtless it will reach your father's house ere long, ifit be not, as is more likely, already there, for it is the vile work ofone they call a puritan, though where even the writer can vainly imaginethe purity of such work to lie, let the pamphlet itself raise thequestion. Read the evil thing--or, I will not say read it, but glancethe eye over it. It is styled "Animadversions upon--." Truly, I cannotrecall the long-drawn title. It is filled, even as a toad with poison,so full of evil and scurrilous sayings against good men, rating andabusing them as the very off-scouring of the earth, that you cannot yetbe so far gone in evil as not to be reclaimed by seeing whither such menand their inspiration would lead you. Farewell, Richard.'
With the words, and without a look, Dorothy, who had been standingsideways in act to go, swept up the pleached alley, her step so statelyand her head so high that Richard, slowly as she walked away, dared notfollow her, but stood 'like one forbid.' When she had vanished, and thelight shone in full at the far end, he gave a great sigh and turnedaway, and the old dial was forsaken.
The scrap of title Dorothy had given was enough to enable Richard torecognise the pamphlet as one a copy of which his father had receivedonly a few days before, and over the reading of which they had again andagain laughed unrestrainedly. As he walked home he sought in vain torecall anything in it deserving of such reprobation as Dorothy hadbranded it withal. Had it been written on the other side no search wouldhave been necessary, for party spirit (from which how could such a youthbe free, when the greatest men of his time were deeply tainted?), whileit blinds the eyes in one direction, makes them doubly keen in another.As it was, the abuse in the pamphlet referred to, appeared to him onlywarrantable indignation; and, the arrogance of an imperfect love leadinghim to utter desertion of his newly-adopted principles, he scorned aspresumptuous that exercise of her own judgment on the part of Dorothywhich had led to their separation, bitterly resenting the change in hisplaymate, who, now an angry woman, had decreed his degradation from thecommonest privileges of friendship, until such time as he should abjurehis convictions, become a renegade to the truth, and abandon the hope ofresulting freedom which the strife of parties held out--an act oftyranny the reflection upon which raised such a swelling in his throatas he had never felt but once before, when a favourite foal got stakedin trying to clear a fence. Having neither friend nor sister to whom toconfess that he was in trouble--have confided it he could not in anycase, seeing it involved blame of the woman his love for whom now first,when on the point of losing her for ever, threatened to overmasterhim--he wandered to the stables, which he found empty of men and nearlyso of horses, half-involuntarily sought the stall of the mare his fatherhad given him on his last birthday, laid his head on the neck bent roundto greet him, and sighed a sore response to her soft, low, tremulouswhinny.
As he stood thus, overcome by the bitter sense of wrong from the one heloved best in the world, something darkened the stable-door, and a voicehe knew reached his ear. Mistaking the head she saw across an emptystall for that of one of the farm-servants, Goody Rees was calling aloudto know if he wanted a charm for the toothache.
Richard looked up.
'And what may your charm be, mistress Rees?' he asked.
'Aha! is it thou, young master?' returned the woman. 'Thou wilt marvelto see me about the place so soon again, but verily desired to know howthat godly man, Faithful Stopchase, found himself after his fall.'
'Nay, mistress Rees, make no apology for coming amongst thy friends. Iwarrant thee against further rudeness of man or beast. I have taken themto task, and truly I will break his head who wags tongue against thee.As for Stopchase, he does well enough in all except owing thee thankswhich he declines to pay. But for thy charm, good mistress Rees, what isit--tell me?'
She took a step inside the door, sent her small eyes peering first intoevery corner her sight could reach, and then said:
'Are we alone--we two, master Richard?'
'There's a cat in the next stall, mistress: if she can hear, she can'tspeak.'
'Don't be too sure of that, master Richard. Be there no one else?'
'Not a body; soul there may be--who knows?'
'I know there is none. I will tell thee my charm, or what else I maythat thou would wish to know; for he is a true gentleman who will help awoman because she is a woman, be she as old and ugly as Goody Reesherself. Hearken, my pretty sir: it is the tooth of a corpse, drawnafter he hath lain a se'en-night in the mould: wilt buy, my master? Ordid not I see thee now asking comfort from thy horse for the--'
She paused a moment, peered narrowly at him from under lowered eyebrows,and went on:
'--heartache, eh, master Richard? Old eyes can see through velvetdoublets.'
'All the world knows yours can see farther than other people's,'returned Richard. 'Heaven knows whence they have their sharpness. Butsuppose it were a heartache now, have you got e'er a charm to curethat?'
'The best of all charms, my young master, is a kiss from the maiden; andwhat would thou give me for the spell that should set her by thy side atthe old dial, under a warm harvest moon, all the long hours 'twixtmidnight and the crowing of the black cock--eh, my master? What wiltthou give me?'
'Not a brass farthing, if she came not of her own good will,' murmuredRichard, turning towards his mare. 'But come, mistress Rees, you knowyou couldn't do it, even if you were the black witch
the neighbourswould have you--though I, for my part, will not hear a word againstyou--never since you set my poor old dog upon his legs again--though tobe sure he will die one of these days, and that no one can help--dogshave such short lives, poor fools!'
'Thou knows not what old mother Rees can do. Tell me, young master, didshe ever say and not do--eh, now?'
'You said you would cure my dog, and you did,' answered Richard.
'And I say now, if thou will, I will set thee and her together by theold dial to-morrow night, and it shall be a warm and moonlit night onpurpose for ye, an ye will.'
'It were to no good purpose, mistress Rees, for we parted this day--andthat for ever, I much fear me,' said Richard with a deep sigh, butgetting some little comfort even out of a witch's sympathy.
'Tut, tut, tut! Lovers' quarrels! Who knows not what they mean? Cryingand kissing--crying and kissing--that's what they mean. Come now--whatdid thou and she quarrel about?'
The old woman, if not a witch, at least looked very like one, with hertwo hands resting on the wide round ledge of her farthingale, her headthrown back, and from under her peaked hat that pointed away behind, hertwo greenish eyes peering with a half-coaxing, yet sharp and probinggaze into those of the youth.
But how could he make a confidante of one like her? What could sheunderstand of such questions as had raised the wall of partition betwixthim and Dorothy? Unwilling to offend her, however, he hesitated to giveher offer a plain refusal, and turning away in silence, affected to havecaught sight of something suspicious about his mare's near hock.
'I see, I see!' said the old woman grimly, but not ill-naturedly, andnodded her head, so that her hat described great arcs across the sky;'thou art ashamed to confess that thou lovest thy father's whims morethan thy lady's favours. Well, well! Such lovers are hardly for mytrouble!'
But here came the voice of Mr. Heywood, calling his groom. She started,glanced around her as if seeking a covert, then peered from the door,and glided noiselessly out.
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