CHAPTER XXI.
The winter set in very severe, and the falls of snow were very heavyand frequent. It was fortunate that Humphrey had been so provident inmaking so large a quantity of hay, or the stock would have beenstarved. The flock of goats, in a great part, subsisted themselves onthe bark of trees and moss; at night they had some hay given to them,and they did very well. It was hardly possible for Edward to come overto see his brother and sisters, for the snow was so deep as to rendersuch a long journey too fatiguing for a horse. Twice or thrice afterthe snow fell, he contrived to get over; but after that they knew itwas impossible, and they did not expect him. Humphrey and Pablo hadlittle to do except attending to the stock, and cutting firewood tokeep up their supply, for they now burned it very fast. The snow layseveral feet high round the cottage, being driven against it by thewind. They had kept a passage clear to the yard, and had kept the yardas clear of snow as possible: they could do no more. A sharp frost andclear weather succeeded to the snow-storms, and there appeared nochance of the snow melting away. The nights were dark and long, andtheir oil for their lamp was getting low. Humphrey was anxious to go toLymington, as they required many things but it was impossible to go anywhere except on foot, and walking was, from the depth of the snow, amost fatiguing exercise. There was one thing, however, that Humphreyhad not forgotten, which was, that he had told Edward that he would tryand capture some of the forest ponies; and during the whole of the timesince the heavy fall of snow had taken place he had been making hisarrangements. The depth of the snow prevented the animals fromobtaining any grass, and they were almost starved, as they could findnothing to subsist upon except the twigs and branches of trees whichthey could reach. Humphrey went out with Pablo, and found the herd,which was about five miles from the cottage, and near to Clara'scottage. He and Pablo brought with them as much hay as they couldcarry, and strewed it about, so as to draw the ponies nearer to them,and then Humphrey looked for a place which would answer his purpose.About three miles from the cottage, he found what he thought would suithim; there was a sort of avenue between the two thickets, about ahundred yards wide; and the wind blowing through this avenue, duringthe snow-storm, had drifted the snow at one end of it, and right acrossit raised a large mound several feet high. By strewing small bundles ofhay, he drew the herd of ponies into this avenue; and in the avenue heleft them a good quantity to feed upon every night for several nights,till at last the herd of ponies went there every morning.
"Now, Pablo, we must make a trial," said Humphrey. "You must get yourlassoes ready, in case they should be required. We must go to theavenue before daylight, with the two dogs, tie one upon one side of theavenue and the other on the other, that they may bark and prevent theponies from attempting to escape through the thicket. Then we must getthe ponies between us and the drift of snow which lies across theavenue, and try if we can not draw them into the drift. If so, theywill plunge in so deep that some of them will not be able to get outbefore we have thrown the ropes round their necks."
"I see," said Pablo; "very good--soon catch them."
Before daylight they went with the dogs and a large bundle of hay,which they strewed nearer to the mound of drift-snow. They then tiedthe dogs up on each side, ordering them to lie down and be quiet. Theythen walked through the thicket so as not to be perceived, until theyconsidered that they were far enough from the drift-snow. Aboutdaylight, the herd came to pick up the hay as usual, and after they hadpassed them Humphrey and Pablo followed in the thicket, not wishing toshow themselves till the last moment. While the ponies were busy withthe hay, they suddenly ran out into the avenue and separated, so as toprevent the ponies from attempting to gallop past them. Shouting asloud they could, as they ran up to the ponies, and calling to the dogs,who immediately set up barking on each side, the ponies, alarmed at thenoise and the appearance of Humphrey and Pablo, naturally set off inthe only direction which appeared to them to be clear, and gallopedaway over the mound of drift-snow, with their tails streaming, snortingand plunging in the snow as they hurried along; but as soon as theyarrived at the mound of drift-snow, they plunged first up to theirbellies, and afterward, as they attempted to force their way where thesnow was deeper, many of them stuck fast altogether, and attempted toclear themselves in vain. Humphrey and Pablo, who had followed them asfast as they could run, now came up with them and threw the lasso overthe neck of one, and ropes with slip-nooses over two more, which werefloundering in the snow there together. The remainder of the herd,after great exertions, got clear of the snow by turning round andgalloping back through the avenue. The three ponies captured made afurious struggle, but by drawing the ropes tight round their necks theywere choked, and soon unable to move. They then tied their fore-legs,and loosed the ropes round their necks, that they might recover theirbreath.
"Got them now, Massa Humphrey," said Pablo.
"Yes; but our work is not yet over, Pablo; we must get them home; howshall we manage that?"
"Suppose they no eat to-day and to-morrow, get very tame."
"I believe that will be the best way; they can not get loose again, doall they can."
"No, sir; but get one home to-day. This very fine pony; suppose we tryhim."
Pablo then put the halter on, and tied the end short to the fore-leg ofthe pony, so that it could not walk without keeping its head close tothe ground--if it raised its head, it was obliged to lift up its leg.Then he put the lasso round its neck, to choke it if it was too unruly,and having done that, he cast loose the ropes which had tied itsfore-legs together.
"Now, Massa Humphrey, we get him home somehow. First I go loose thedogs; he 'fraid of the dogs, and run t'other way."
The pony, which was an iron-gray and very handsome, plunged furiouslyand kicked behind, but it could not do so without falling down, whichit did several times before Pablo returned with the dogs. Humphrey heldone part of the lasso on one side, and Pablo on the other, keeping thepony between them; and with the dogs barking at it behind, theycontrived, with a great deal of exertion and trouble, to get the ponyto the cottage. The poor animal, driven in this way on three legs, andevery now and then choked with the lasso, was covered with foam beforethey arrived. Billy was turned out of his stable to make room for thenew-comer, who was fastened securely to the manger and then leftwithout food, that he might become tame. It was too late then, and theywere too tired themselves to go for the other two ponies; so they wereleft lying on the snow all night, and the next morning they found theywere much tamer than the first; and during the day, following the sameplan, they were both brought to the stable and secured alongside of theother. One was a bay pony with black legs, and the other a brown one.The bay pony was a mare, and the other two horses. Alice and Edith weredelighted with the new ponies, and Humphrey was not a little pleasedthat he had succeeded in capturing them, after what had passed betweenEdward and him. After two days' fasting, the poor animals were so tamethat they ate out of Pablo's hand, and submitted to be stroked andcaressed; and before they were a fortnight in the stable, Alice andEdith could go up to them without danger. They were soon broken in; forthe yard being full of muck, Pablo took them into it and mounted them.They plunged and kicked at first, and tried all they could to get ridof him, but they sunk so deep into the muck that they were soon tiredout; and after a month, they were all three tolerably quiet to ride.
The snow was so deep all over the country that there was littlecommunication with the metropolis. The intendant's letters spoke ofKing Charles raising another army in Holland, and that his adherents inEngland were preparing to join him as soon at he marched southward.
"I think, Edward," said the intendant, "that the king's affairs do nowwear a more promising aspect; but there is plenty of time yet. I knowyour anxiety to serve your king, and I can not blame it. I shall notprevent your going, although, of course, I must not appear to becognizant of your having so done. When the winter breaks up I shallsend you to London. You will then be better able to judge of what isgoing on, and your absence will
not create any suspicion; but you mustbe guided by me."
"I certainly will, sir," replied Edward. "I should, indeed, like tostrike one blow for the king, come what will."
"All depends upon whether they manage affairs well in Scotland; butthere is so much jealousy and pride, and, I fear, treachery also, thatit is hard to say how matters may end."
It was soon after this conversation that a messenger arrived fromLondon with letters, announcing that King Charles had been crowned inScotland, with great solemnity and magnificence.
"The plot thickens," said the intendant; "and by this letter from mycorrespondent, Ashley Cooper, I find that the king's army is wellappointed, and that David Lesley is lieutenant-general; Middletoncommands the horse, and Wemyss the artillery. That Wemyss is certainlya good officer, but was not true to the late king: may he behave betterto the present! Now, Edward, I shall send you to London, and I willgive you letters to those who will advise you how to proceed. You maytake the black horse; he will bear you well. You will of course writeto me, for Sampson will go with you, and you can send him back when youconsider that you do not require or wish for his presence: there is notime to be lost, for, depend upon it, Cromwell, who is still atEdinburgh, will take the field as soon as he can. Are you ready tostart to-morrow morning?"
"Yes, sir, quite ready."
"I fear that you can not go over to the cottage to bid farewell to yoursisters; but, perhaps, it is better that you should not."
"I think so too, sir," replied Edward; "now that the snow has nearlydisappeared, I did think of going over, having been so long absent, butI must send Oswald over instead."
"Well, then, leave me to write my letters, and do you prepare yoursaddle-bags. Patience and Clara will assist you. Tell Sampson to cometo me."
Edward went to Patience and Clara, and told them that he was to set offfor London on the following morning, and was about to make hispreparations.
"How long do you remain, Edward?" inquired Patience.
"I can not tell; Sampson goes with me, and I must, of course, be guidedby your father. Do you know where the saddle-bags are, Patience?"
"Yes; Phoebe shall bring them to your room."
"And you and Clara must come and give me your assistance."
"Certainly we will, if you require it; but I did not know that yourwardrobe was so extensive."
"You know that it is any thing but extensive, Patience; but that is thereason why your assistance is more required. A small wardrobe ought atleast to be in good order; and what I would require is, that you wouldlook over the linen, and where it requires a little repair, you willbestow upon it your charity."
"That we will do, Clara;" replied Patience; "so get your needles andthread, and let us send him to London with whole linen. We will comewhen we are ready, sir."
"I don't like his going to London at all," said Clara, "we shall be solonely when he is gone."
Edward had left the room, and having obtained the saddlebags fromPhoebe had gone up to his chamber. The first thing that he laid hold ofwas his father's sword; he took it down, and having wiped it carefully,he kissed it, saying, "God grant that I may do credit to it, and proveas worthy to wield it as was my brave father!" He had uttered thesewords aloud; and again taking the sword, and laying it down on the bed,turned round, and perceived that Patience had, unknown to him, enteredthe room, and was standing close to him. Edward was not conscious thathe had spoken aloud, and therefore merely said, "I was not aware ofyour presence, Patience. Your foot is so light."
"Whose sword is that, Edward?"
"It is mine; I bought it at Lymington."
"But what makes you have such an affection for that sword?"
"Affection for it?"
"Yes; as I came into the room you kissed it as fervently as--"
"As a lover would his mistress, I presume you would say," repliedEdward.
"Nay, I meant not to use such vain words. I was about to say, as adevout Catholic would a relic. I ask you again, Why so? A sword is buta sword. You are about to leave this on a mission of my father's. Youare not a soldier, about to engage in strife and war; if you were, whykiss your sword?"
"I will tell you. I do love this sword. I purchased it, as I told you,at Lymington, and they told me that it belonged to Colonel Beverley. Itis for his sake that I love it. You know what obligations our familywere under to him."
"This sword was then wielded by Colonel Beverley, the celebratedCavalier, was it?" said Patience, taking it off the bed, and examiningit.
"Yes, it was; and here, you see, are his initials upon the hilt."
"And why do you take it to London with you? Surely it is not the weaponwhich should be worn by a secretary, Edward; it is too large andcumbrous, and out of character."
"Recollect, that till these last few months I have been a forester,Patience, and not a secretary. Indeed, I feel that I am more fit foractive life than the situation which your father's kindness hasbestowed upon me. I was brought up, as you have heard, to follow to thewars, had my patron lived."
Patience made no reply. Clara now joined them, and they commenced thetask of examining the linen; and Edward left the room, as he wished tospeak with Oswald. They did not meet again till dinner time. Edward'ssudden departure had spread a gloom over them all--even the intendantwas silent and thoughtful. In the evening he gave Edward the letterswhich he had written, and a considerable sum of money, telling himwhere he was to apply if he required more for his expenses. Theintendant cautioned him on his behavior in many points, and alsorelative to his dress and carriage during his stay in the metropolis.
"If you should leave London, there will be no occasion--nay, it wouldbe dangerous to write to me. I shall take it for granted that you willretain Sampson till your departure, and when he returns here I shallpresume that you have gone north. I will not detain you longer, Edward:may Heaven bless and protect you!"
So saying, the intendant went away to his own room.
"Kind and generous man!" thought Edward; "how much did I mistake youwhen we first met!"
Taking up the letters and bag of money, which still remained on thetable, Edward went to his room, and having placed the letters and moneyin the saddle-bag, he commended himself to the Divine Protector, andretired to rest.
Before daylight, the sound of Sampson's heavy traveling-boots belowroused up Edward, and he was soon dressed. Taking his saddle-bags onhis arm, he walked softly down stairs, that he might not disturb any ofthe family; but when he was passing the sitting-room, he perceived thatthere was a light in it, and, on looking in, that Patience was up anddressed. Edward looked surprised, and was about to speak, when Patiencesaid--
"I rose early, Edward, because, when I took leave of you last night, Iforgot a little parcel that I wanted to give you before you went. Itwill not take much room, and may beguile a weary hour. It is a littlebook of meditations. Will you accept it, and promise me to read it whenyou have time?"
"I certainly will, my dear Patience--if I may venture on theexpression--read it, and think of you."
"Nay, you must read it, and think of what it contains," repliedPatience.
"I will, then. I shall not need the book to remind me of PatienceHeatherstone, I assure you."
"And now, Edward, I do not pretend to surmise the reason of yourdeparture, nor would it be becoming in me to attempt to discover whatmy father thinks proper to be silent upon; but I must beg you topromise one thing."
"Name it, dear Patience," replied Edward; "my heart is so full at thethought of leaving you, that I feel I can refuse you nothing."
"It is this: I have a presentiment, I know not why, that you are aboutto encounter danger. If so, be prudent--be prudent for the sake of yourdear sisters--be prudent for the sake of all your friends, who wouldregret you--promise me that."
"I do promise you, most faithfully, Patience, that I will ever have mysisters and you in my thoughts, and will not be rash under anycircumstances."
"Thank you, Edward; may God bless you and preserve
you!"
Edward first kissed Patience's hand, that was held in his own; but,perceiving the tears starting in her eyes, he kissed them off, withoutany remonstrance on her part, and then left the room. In a few momentsmore he was mounted on a fine, powerful black horse, and, followed bySampson, on his road to London.
We will pass over the journey, which was accomplished without any eventworthy of remark. Edward had, from the commencement, called Sampson tohis side, that he might answer the questions he had to make upon allthat he saw, and which, the reader must be aware, was quite new to onewhose peregrinations had been confined to the New Forest and the townadjacent. Sampson was a very powerful man, of a cool and silentcharacter, by no means deficient in intelligence, and trustworthywithal. He had long been a follower of the intendant, and had served inthe army. He was very devout, and generally, when not addressed, wassinging hymns in a low voice.
On the evening of the second day, they were close to the metropolis,and Sampson pointed out to Edward St. Paul's Cathedral and WestminsterAbbey, and other objects worthy of note.
"And where are we to lodge, Sampson?" inquired Edward.
"The best hotel that I know of for man and beast is the 'Swan withThree Necks,' in Holborn. It is not over-frequented by roisterers, andyou will there be quiet, and, if your affairs demand it, unobserved."
"That will suit me, Sampson: I wish to observe and not be observed,during my stay in London."
Before dark they had arrived at the hotel, and the horses were in thestable. Edward had procured an apartment to his satisfaction, and,feeling fatigued with his two days' traveling, had gone to bed.
The following morning he examined the letters which had been given tohim by the intendant, and inquired of Sampson if he could direct him onhis way. Sampson knew London well; and Edward set out to SpringGardens, to deliver a letter, which the intendant informed him wasconfidential, to a person of the name of Langton. Edward knocked andwas ushered in, Sampson taking a seat in the hall, while Edward wasshown into a handsomely-furnished library, where he found himself inthe presence of a tall, spare man, dressed after the fashion of theRoundheads of the time. He presented the letter. Mr. Langton bowed, andrequested Edward to sit down; and, after Edward had taken a chair, hethen seated himself and opened the letter.
"You are right welcome, Master Armitage," said Mr. Langton; "I findthat, young as you appear to be, you are in the whole confidence of ourmutual friend, Master Heatherstone. He hints at your being probablyobliged to take a journey to the north, and that you will be glad totake charge of any letters which I may have to send in that direction.I will have them ready for you; and, in case of need, they will be suchas will give a coloring to your proceeding, provided you may not chooseto reveal your true object. How wears our good friend Heatherstone andhis daughter?"
"Quite well, sir."
"And he told me in one of his former letters that he had the daughterof our poor friend Ratcliffe with him. Is it not so?"
"It is, Master Langton; and a gentle, pretty child as you would wish tosee."
"When did you arrive in London?"
"Yesterday evening, sir."
"And do you purpose any stay?"
"That I can not answer, sir; I must be guided by your advice. I havenaught to do here, unless it be to deliver some three or four letters,given me by Mr. Heatherstone."
"It is my opinion, Master Armitage, that the less you are seen in thiscity the better; there are hundreds employed to find out new-comers,and to discover, from their people, or by other means, for what purposethey may have come; for you must be aware, Master Armitage, that thetimes are dangerous, and people's minds are various. In attempting tofree ourselves from what we considered despotism, we have created forourselves a worse despotism, and one that is less endurable. It is tobe hoped that what has passed will make not only kings but subjectswiser than they have been. Now, what do you propose--to leave thisinstantly?"
"Certainly, if you think it advisable."
"My advice, then, is to leave London immediately. I will give youletters to some friends of mine in Lancashire and Yorkshire; in eithercounty you can remain unnoticed, and make what preparations you thinknecessary. But do nothing in haste--consult well, and be guided bythem, who will, if it is considered advisable and prudent, join withyou in your project. I need say no more. Call upon me to-morrowmorning, an hour before noon, and I will have letters ready for you."
Edward rose to depart, and thanked Mr. Langton for his kindness.
"Farewell, Master Armitage," said Langton; "to-morrow, at the eleventhhour!"
Edward then quitted the house, and delivered the other letters ofcredence; the only one of importance at the moment was the one ofcredit; the others were to various members of the Parliament, desiringthem to know Master Armitage as a confidential friend of the intendant,and, in case of need, to exert their good offices in his behalf. Theletter of credit was upon a Hamburgh merchant, who asked Edward if herequired money. Edward replied that he did not at present, but that hehad business to do for his employer in the north, and might requiresome when there, if it was possible to obtain it so far from London.
"When do you set out, and to what town do you go?"
"That I can not well tell until to-morrow."
"Call before you leave this, and I will find some means of providingfor you as you wish."
Edward then returned to the hotel. Before he went to bed, he toldSampson that he found that he had to leave London on Mr. Heatherstone'saffairs, and might be absent some time; he concluded by observing thathe did not consider it necessary to take him with him, as he coulddispense with his services, and Mr. Heatherstone would be glad to havehim back.
"As you wish, sir," replied Sampson. "When am I to go back?"
"You may leave to-morrow as soon as you please. I have no letter tosend. You may tell them that I am well, and will write as soon as Ihave any thing positive to communicate."
Edward then made Sampson a present, and wished him a pleasant journey.
At the hour appointed on the following day, Edward repaired to Mr.Langton, who received him very cordially.
"I am all ready for you, Master Armitage; there is a letter to twoCatholic ladies in Lancashire, who will take great care of you; andhere is one to a friend of mine in Yorkshire. The ladies live aboutfour miles from the town of Bolton, and my Yorkshire friend in the cityof York. You may trust to any of them. And now, farewell; and, ifpossible, leave London before nightfall--the sooner the better. Whereis your servant?"
"He has returned to Master Heatherstone this morning."
"You have done right. Lose no time to leave London; and don't be in ahurry in your future plans. You understand me. If any one accosts youon the road, put no trust in any professions. You, of course, are goingdown to your relations in the north. Have you pistols?"
"Yes, sir; I have a pair which did belong to the unfortunate Mr.Ratcliffe."
"Then they are good ones, I'll answer for it; no man was moreparticular about his weapons, or knew how to use them better. Farewell,Master Armitage, and may success attend you!"
Mr. Langton held out his hand to Edward, who respectfully took hisleave.
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