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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-03 15:49:52 -0800 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-03 15:49:52 -0800 |
| commit | be9ff7e3ae545a32252aff2faaa004ced649a8e2 (patch) | |
| tree | 8aa91a8a4129f435fc1099caaae5160077896eed /49344-h/49344-h.html | |
| parent | 7538f97f2906275f4fd0d0f74c3727bd29b6fef6 (diff) | |
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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } -</style> -<title>THE QUEEN'S FAVOURITE</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="MARCREL.ill" content="Frances Ewan" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Queen's Favourite A Story of the Restoration" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="49344" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Eliza F. Pollard" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2015-07-11" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1907" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Queen's Favourite" /> - -<link rel="schema.DCTERMS" href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" /> -<link rel="schema.MARCREL" href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators/" /> -<meta content="The Queen's Favourite A Story of the Restoration" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="/home/ajhaines/queens/queens.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" name="DCTERMS.language" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" /> -<meta content="2015-07-11T17:41:23.664049+00:00" name="DCTERMS.modified" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/49344" /> -<meta content="Eliza F. Pollard" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="Frances Ewan" name="MARCREL.ill" /> -<meta content="2015-07-11" name="DCTERMS.created" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="Ebookmaker 0.4.0a5 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-queen-s-favourite"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE QUEEN'S FAVOURITE</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no -restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> included with -this ebook or online at </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>. If you -are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws -of the country where you are located before using this ebook.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Queen's Favourite -<br /> A Story of the Restoration -<br /> -<br />Author: Eliza F. Pollard -<br /> -<br />Release Date: July 11, 2015 [EBook #49344] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE QUEEN'S FAVOURITE</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="container coverpage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 65%" id="figure-41"> -<span id="cover-art"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Cover art" src="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Cover art</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="container frontispiece"> -<p class="center pfirst" id="they-took-refuge-with-nurse-patience"><span class="bold large">[Frontispiece: "THEY TOOK REFUGE WITH NURSE PATIENCE" -<br />(missing from book)]</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="container titlepage"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold xx-large">The Queen's Favourite</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="x-large">A Story of the Restoration</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">ELIZA F. POLLARD</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">Author of "The Doctor's Niece" "The Lady Isobel" -<br />"The White Standard" &c.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">ILLUSTRATED BY FRANCES EWAN</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED -<br />LONDON GLASGOW AND BOMBAY -<br />1907</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CONTENTS</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">CHAP.</span></p> -<ol class="upperroman simple"> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-king-has-come-in-to-his-own-again">"The King has come in to his own again"</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#newbolt-manor">Newbolt Manor</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#somerset-house">Somerset House</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#new-friends">New Friends</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#may-day">May-Day</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-first-parting">A First Parting</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-king-s-vengeance">A King's Vengeance</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#arrested">Arrested</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#old-newgate">Old Newgate</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-legend">A Legend</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-brave-woman">A Brave Woman</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-faithful-friend">A Faithful Friend</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-hamlet-of-st-mary-s">The Hamlet of St. Mary's</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-mystery-cleared-up">The Mystery cleared up</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#at-court">At Court</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#under-the-shadow-of-newgate">Under the Shadow of Newgate</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-great-plague">The Great Plague</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#lost">Lost</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#on-the-track">On the Track</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-great-sea-fight">A Great Sea-Fight</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#london-on-fire">London on Fire</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#found">Found</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#home-at-last">Home at Last</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">ILLUSTRATIONS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#they-took-refuge-with-nurse-patience">"They took refuge with Nurse Patience"</a><span> (missing from book) </span><em class="italics">Frontis.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-commander-of-the-company-handed-him-a-sheet-of-parchment">"The commander of the company handed him a sheet of parchment"</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#he-drew-out-the-packets">"He drew out the packets"</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-will-give-you-your-answer-to-night-she-said">"I will give you your answer to-night," she said</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-king-has-come-in-to-his-own-again"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">"The king has come in to his own again"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In a large, sombre apartment, in the palace of the -Louvre, there was unusual commotion. The Queen -Dowager, Henrietta Maria, was seated in a crimson -gilt fauteuil, wearing her widow's black robes, for -she had never cast off the mourning she had donned -for her murdered husband, Charles I; and indeed -she had unwillingly suffered any of her attendants to -array themselves in brighter colours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Until he is avenged," she would say; "until his -murderers have suffered what he suffered, if that be -possible!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Behind her, leaning on the back of her chair, was -her young daughter, a girl of sixteen--that child -who had never seen her father's face, who had -been brought over to France by stealth in swaddling -clothes, who had suffered all the miseries of exile, and -shared all the poverty which her mother's position -had forced upon them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Everybody knows the story of how the queen kept -this child in bed in winter, because they could afford -no fire in their room. Possibly she did this to shame -the king, Louis XIV, who denied the necessaries of -existence to the daughter of Henry IV.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The princess was at the present time just passing -from girlhood into womanhood. She gave promise of -great beauty, which was to be fully realized. There -was a triumphant look on her face; indeed, on the -faces of all those present, for kneeling at the queen's -feet was a messenger who had just arrived from -Holland bearing the news that a deputation from -England had waited on her son, Charles II, and had -invited him back to England, entreating him to suffer -himself to be placed upon that throne which had cost -his father his life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the envoy had delivered his message, a great -silence fell upon all present. The queen, for a few -seconds, seemed incapable of realizing the truth. It -is at this moment we introduce our readers to her -court.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly a little voice broke the silence, and a -childish figure, a girl of ten or eleven years old, -sprang forward, and holding out with both her little -hands a somewhat shabby white satin gown, she -pirouetted into the centre of the room, and, dancing -on the tips of her toes, sang gaily: "The king has -come in to his own again; the king has come in to -his own!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The ice was broken: a general movement took -place. A young woman in a tight-fitting black gown -and a white cap sprang after the child and -passionately shook her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How dare you; how dare you!" she exclaimed; -but the child twisted herself free of her, and ran -lightly to the Princess Henrietta, hiding herself in -the folds of her gown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let her alone," said the queen, "she has spoken -for us all." And a smile such as had not been seen on -that royal face for many a day crept over the widowed -queen's countenance. Regaining her self-command, -she said to the messenger still kneeling before her:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thank you for the haste you have made in -coming to us, and I bid you return with equal haste -to my dear son, and tell his majesty that all loyal -hearts rejoice with him, and that we await but his -command to join him in England. Until then we -will abide here as patient and loyal subjects."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The messenger arose, and bowed low, saying;</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no doubt that the king will desire your -majesty's presence as soon as he has taken -possession of his kingdom." And with that he bowed -himself backwards out of the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With the disappearance of the messenger etiquette -slackened; there was much talking and not a little -laughter. Suddenly the door leading into the -anteroom was thrown open, and all the elite of the court -of France, all those faithful followers of the Stuart -cause who had escaped out of Cromwell's hands and -taken up their abode at the French court, young -and old, gay sparks of the aristocracy, and -grey-headed men and women who had lost lands and -fortunes in their master's cause, pressed forward. Their -day had come at last; surely they would now reap the -fruit of their devotion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The queen rose and went into their midst with all -that stately courtesy for which she was remarkable, -and her young daughter, following her example, gave -her hand to be kissed, smiling with that wonderful -charm and look of gladness which was destined to -fascinate so many hearts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once more the doors were thrown wide open, but -this time heralds announced:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Le roi, le roi!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Queen Henrietta stood still, but, as the king -entered, she advanced a few steps to meet him, -curtsying deeply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ma tante," he said, "I would have been the -first to congratulate you, but news flies so fast, you -have already heard what I would gladly have -imparted to you myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are very good, my nephew," answered the -Queen, "but sorrow has followed me for so long, -that I can scarcely allow myself to hope that my dear -son will succeed his martyred father in peace and -without bloodshed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What matters that to you, ma tante? If blood -has to be shed in a good cause, there is no regretting -it; and there are those here present," he added, -turning round and facing the courtiers, "who will not -hesitate to give their lives for their rightful king."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A murmur ran through the crowd, and the whole -assemblage bowed low in acquiescence. One voice -rose above the others:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His majesty speaks like Solomon; we are ready -to shed the last drop of our blood for our royal -master. Long live King Charles!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>People said that Queen Henrietta Maria had -grown hard in her trouble. At the present moment -the softening element of joy crept into her heart and -brought tears to her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Grand merci, grand merci to you all!" she repeated; -and the king, taking her hand, led her to her -seat, himself occupying the fauteuil which had been -hastily brought for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A whispered word to Henrietta, repeated by her -to the gentlemen of her household, and the crowd of -courtiers disappeared, leaving the king and his aunt -alone. Even Princess Henrietta and her little -companion were dismissed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What took place between the royal aunt and -nephew was only known some years later; but the -queen was well satisfied with the result of their -conversation, for the strings of the king's purse -were opened, and the poverty which so long -oppressed her disappeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The princess and the child Agnes felt this change -more than anyone. There was a mystery concerning -Agnes; but mysteries about personages were very -common in those days. In this great Civil War -children had been lost, families had disappeared, no -one quite knew who might be who.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When people questioned as to who this child was, -the queen answered haughtily:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her name is Agnes Beaumont. Who she is and -whence she comes I know; that is my secret, and -must suffice all men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was on a cold winter's night nigh upon twenty -years ago, and snow lay thick upon the ground, -when Patience had found her way to the Palace of -the Louvre, and begged and prayed, and almost -forced herself into Queen Henrietta's presence. It -was in the early days of the queen's widowhood. -She had pawned all her jewels; she had sent all her -money to the assistance of her son; and she herself -was living a beggar on the bounty of the King of -France, and that was measured out stingily. Poverty -was in the air; the great rooms assigned to her in -the Palace of the Louvre were bare and cold; and -when Patience succeeded in forcing her way into -her presence, she found the queen cowering over a -few embers in the great fireplace, with the young -princess, then only a child of eight years, gathered -in her arms for warmth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Approaching the queen, Patience knelt before her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you not recognize me, your majesty?" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The queen looked at her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I recognize you," she said; "you come from -my friend," and in a low voice she mentioned a name, -adding:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What of her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dead," answered Patience, "even as her husband -died after the great battle, and with her dying -breath she bade me bring you this." And opening -back her cloak she showed, lying in her arms, a -sleeping child of some eighteen months old.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did you bring her here?" said the queen, -throwing up her hands in despair. "What am I to -do with her? We have scarce food for ourselves. -How shall I feed her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have no fear on that score," said Patience, "I -will feed her. Only let her live under your shelter, -protected by your name; for there are those who, if -they found her, would cast her out or do her some -evil turn. You know that well. They have entered -upon her possessions--they hold what by right is -hers; therefore she must be cared for until such time -as she can claim her own, or till you can give it to -her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I wot she will wait a weary while," said -the queen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whilst they were speaking, Princess Henrietta had -approached the child, whose eyes were now wide -open, and who was struggling to rise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, how pretty she is! Look, Mother!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she said truly. She was a lovely babe, with -soft, golden curls clustering round her little face, -and large brown eyes. She was laughing, too--laughing -with the merry gurgle of a happy babe--stretching -out her little hands towards the princess. -She looked the very child of joy, and yet she was a -child born of bitter sorrow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is like her father," said the queen. "I -never knew a man more gloriously happy than he -was; and she has the same look in her eyes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She never weeps; she never moans," said Patience. -"Ah, madame, she will bring you sunshine -and good luck!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she spoke she unwrapped the child and placed -her upon the ground. A beauty, a perfect beauty she -was, and the princess clapped her hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you must keep her, Mother, you must keep her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no choice in the matter. She is my -dearest friend's child. Yes, I must keep her, -Patience." And from that hour Agnes was the Princess -Henrietta's daily companion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This princess had also been born in sorrow and -nurtured in it. She had no playfellows. She had -led the dreariest life that any child could lead until -this baby came; but from that hour her whole nature -changed. She laughed, she played, she danced with -her; there was noise, there was life, in that dark -apartment. Whatever ills others had to bear, Agnes -never suffered. Patience was always there, and -Patience sufficed for her, and often for the princess -too. They occupied a tiny chamber leading out of -the queen's room, and this was their haven of rest, -their playroom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sometimes even the queen would come in there -and sit down and talk to Patience, not as to a subordinate, -but as to a friend, and that is saying a great -deal for Queen Henrietta Maria, whose pride and -arrogance were proverbial.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Everyone was sure Agnes was of noble birth, -because, as she grew older, she was brought up -nobly and had the same teachers as the princess. -They were neither of them overweighted with study; -it was not the fashion in those days. They learnt -French from their surroundings, a little writing, a -little reading, a smattering of Latin, because the -queen was bringing up her daughter as a Catholic, -and she must needs follow the Mass in her Breviary. -This sufficed; but they learnt dancing, and little -songs, and thus a certain amount of gaiety emanated -through them into the dark Palace of the Louvre.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This gaiety was in Princess Henrietta's blood. -Was she not a granddaughter of Henry IV, that -great lover of pleasure?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So these two children ignored the death-traps -which lay under their feet, those oubliettes which had -swallowed up so many men and women. They did -not see the ghosts that others saw gliding along the -passages, which led to mysterious chambers, down -narrow staircases, ending they knew not where. -They did not care. They would escape from Patience -and play their games of hide-and-seek and touch-wood, -their cries of childish joy ringing through the -corridors and starting the echoes. Men would -smile at them, and women shake their heads, but no -one bade them be silent. Sometimes even the king -in the distance heard them and would smile. "That -is the wild Henrietta and her companion," he would say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall they be silenced, sire?" asked a courtier once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, nay; it is good for them to laugh," he -answered. "Their weeping days will come. It were -a sin to silence them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On this day, when the princess and Agnes were -sent forth from the king's presence, they took -refuge with Patience, and, curling themselves up on -the window-sill, began to talk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder if we shall have as good a time in -England as we have had here!" said Agnes. "I feel -as if I were going to lose you, Princess. You will -be a great lady at court, and I am only a child and -nobody. I wonder what this England is like! I -have heard that the sun shines but little there. I do -not feel much love for it or for the people. I never -can forget that they killed their king, your father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I cannot forget, I shall have to make believe I -can," said Henrietta; "but as to what England is -like, I know no more than you do," she added. "I -was brought over from England just as you were, -an infant in swaddling clothes, by my dear Lady -Dalkeith, so we are equal there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Except that you know who you are, but I am -only Agnes Beaumont, with neither father nor -mother, nor kith nor kin, no one save Patience to -care for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We care for you, my mother and I," said the -princess, drawing the child closer to her. "What -more do you want?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never to leave you," said the child passionately. -"I would be your handmaid, your servant." And, -as if a sudden fear had taken hold on her, she clung -to the princess.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You foolish child," answered Henrietta. "Of -course you will always stay by me. Where should I -be without my little Agnes?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But kings and queens, I have heard, cannot do -what they will; they cannot even love where they -will," said the child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is true," answered Henrietta, "but you are -only a child. Who will mind you? Besides," she -continued thoughtfully, "you are Agnes Beaumont -to-day, but you may be a great lady in disguise. -Courtiers will crowd round my brother's throne; those -who have been against him will be for him, now he -is king, and you, the queen's favourite, my favourite, -may find both kith and kin in your prosperity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall not care for those who forsook me when -I was cast alone on the world." And Agnes tossed -her beautiful head proudly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why trouble?" said Henrietta. "Let us take -life as it comes; we are so young. We are going -to have a good time--a right good time!" And she -wiped the tears from the child's face, kissed and -hugged her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At that moment the door opened and the queen -came in. Her face, too, was radiant, and she -brought with her a ray of sunshine, as if Nature -itself shone upon her. She sat down beside the two -girls and laid a hand on each of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We shall soon be going to England," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Mother, tell us about England," said -Henrietta. "We know nothing about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The queen's eyes filled with tears. "For ten -years," she said, "I was the happiest and -best-beloved woman in England. There was no man -like your father, Henrietta: the greatest lover and -the best husband. He gave me for my dower-house -a palace on the Thames, upon which the sun always -shone, from west and east, north and south, beneath -whose windows the whole world passed, barges with -pennons flying and with music playing all the -live-long day, and oft far into the night. Ah, it was a -glorious time! Who would have thought of the -misery to come!" She put her kerchief to her eyes -and wept audibly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is over, Mother, it is over," said Henrietta, -kneeling beside her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It can never be over," answered the queen. -"Those joy days are ever present with me, not even -when your brother has avenged your father's death -upon his murderers shall I forget. My sun is dimmed -for ever." And a look of hatred came over her face. -"We will not talk of it," she continued, shrugging her -shoulders in her quick French way. "You want to -know about this England, children? Well, we shall -go back to Somerset House. It is my own, given to -me by my husband, and there we shall dwell. It is a -beautiful place, full--as I have told you--of sunlight; -very different from this gloomy Louvre."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But we have been very happy here," said Agnes. -"I fear our play-days are over."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The queen smiled and stroked the child's face. -"You are growing a big girl, Agnes; we must think -of something better for you than play, ma mie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patience coming in broke this strain of talk. She -and the queen went to the farther end of the room -together in consultation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indeed, for the next few months there was much -planning and much talking. It was the month of -May when King Charles went to England, and -England became old England again in its festive -gaiety. From the moment Charles set foot on -English soil at Dover with his brothers the Dukes of -York and Gloucester, and was met by General Monk -and courtiers, who knelt to welcome him, England -went mad concerning him. On the twenty-ninth of -May, which was his birthday, he made his solemn -entry into London. We are told the streets were -railed, and windows and balconies were hung with -tapestries, flowers were scattered in his path, and all -was joy and jubilee. So he entered triumphantly -that Whitehall where the king, his father, had -suffered so cruelly. It was a strange metamorphosis. -Those who had been the father's bitterest -enemies now bowed before the son. They called -him the "King of Hearts". From his people he -would receive a "crown of hearts", they said; "the -duty of all men would be to make him forget the -past; he was to be the most glorious king of the -happiest people. Such was his welcome!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All this was reported to his mother, still living -at the Louvre, waiting for her summons to go -home, and the whole of that summer passed in joy -and laughter. Princess Henrietta was courted by -foreign potentates and even by kings, but the queen -would not part with her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She has shared my troubles, she must share my -joys; she must go home with me," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the autumn the queen set sail with her suite for -England, and after what seemed to Agnes a weary -journey by sea and land, they reached London, and -were conducted through the city to Somerset House, -the "Queen's House" as it was called.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes kept close to the princess. Nothing -Patience said to her was of any avail; she was -determined; she set her lips and pushed her away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will not leave the princess," she said, clinging -to her gown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let her alone," said Princess Henrietta; "she -is my charge, Patience." So she kept her in her -room, and they slept together that first night; yet, -strange to tell, they knew not why, both fell asleep -weeping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a bad omen," said Patience; "evil will -come of it;" and she looked down sadly upon those -two young faces wet with tears.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="newbolt-manor"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Newbolt Manor</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Well, Ann, all I can say is, that, though I hate -turn-coats, I am thankful my father has ranged -himself on the right side at last. Others are doing -like him. We know full well that one of -Cromwell's own daughters was against him. Fairfax -and Falkland, those great and noble men, both -fought for the liberties of England against their -king. General Monk, who is bringing Charles -home, was a republican; but times have changed. -It needed a strong hand like Cromwell's to govern -England without hereditary right, only with might. -Richard Cromwell, good fellow though he be, could -not do it, and he knew it from the first. He has -had enough of ruling, he told me so but the other -day; he is only too thankful to retire into private life, -farm his own land, and smoke his pipe in peace. -So we need not feel any compunction over the fact -that our father has given in his adhesion to the -king at last, and now I shall be at liberty to follow -the dictates of my heart. I was too young to fight -for our martyred king, but I am of age now, and -will at once enlist in his son's service. Let us -hope we may have our rightful king and our rightful -liberties as well. I'm for King Charles! Hurrah!" And -Reginald Newbolt took up his hat from the -table beside him and tossed it gaily into the air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His sister, Ann Newbolt, laughed at him as she -echoed his "Hurrah!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am glad of it," she went on; "you cannot -conceive how glad, Reginald! You can never know -what pain and grief the murder of our king has -been to me. I think my father felt it sorely, and -yet he has always held that it was a necessity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He had no hand in it," cried Reginald sharply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not directly," answered Ann. "I believe he -would not vote either for or against, which vexed -our mother greatly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was a mistake," said Reginald, his young -face lighting up with a certain sternness. "A man -ought to know his own mind: it should be either -'yea' or 'nay'. My father would have had me enlist -in Cromwell's army, young as I was; but I would -not, and, thank God, I did not! I can show clean -hands and a loyal heart to Charles Stuart when he -lands."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you go up to London with my father?" -she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he answered, in the same stern voice. "I -shall go alone, and lay my virgin sword at my king's -feet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His sister looked at him with intense love and -pride. They were the only children of Colonel -Newbolt, who had served the Republican cause -throughout the Civil Wars so well that Cromwell -had rewarded him with gifts of land and property -which had belonged to old Royalist families, who -had either disappeared in the struggle or been -dispossessed. The most important of these was the -Abbey de Lisle, a lovely estate in Westmorland, -amidst the moors and fells, just bordering upon -Yorkshire. The house had been an old monastery -of great fame. Its chapel had been one of -exquisite beauty a hundred years before, but under -Thomas Cromwell's ruthless hand, in the reign of -Henry VIII, when monasteries and abbeys were -sacked, it had been reduced to ruins, and so -remained, unroofed, with the grass growing up the -nave and through the aisles. Ivy clambered round -the delicate pillars, and moss lay thick on the steps -leading up to the broken altar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It had been bestowed by Henry on the De Lisles, -and with it, as was believed by many, a curse had -been inherited, uttered by the last monk who passed -out of the monastery grates. It ran thus: "The -abbey and its lands shall go from the De Lisles, -even as it came to them, by fire and sword".</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now the prophecy had been fulfilled. Gilbert de -Lisle, the last of his race, had fallen fighting for -King Charles in the Battle of Worcester. He left -no children--the race was extinct.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Cromwell had bestowed the land and all that -appertained thereto, the dower-house and the abbey -itself, upon Colonel Newbolt, to be his and his -heirs' after him. Thither he had brought his wife -and children, had spent a considerable sum of money -in restoring the house, which had been injured -during the war; but the chapel remained a ruin--even -that was a concession--and many blamed him for -not razing it to the ground. Cromwell's soldiers -had finished Henry VIII's vandalism, mutilated the -few remaining statues, and broken to pieces the -stained-glass window over the altar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the country around it was whispered that at -midnight there were shadows seen coming and -going, ghosts of the dead monks, whose tombs -had been desecrated, but whose bodies still rested -in the crypt below the altar, awaiting the great -judgment day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reginald and Ann Newbolt had been little more -than children when they came to the Abbey, and -the very atmosphere of the place seemed to seize -upon their imaginations. They felt kindly towards -the dead monks and towards the De Lisles, whose -portraits hung in the long gallery which ran the -length of the quadrangle. They became, to their -father's horror, Royalists. Reginald at fifteen -refused to join the Parliamentary forces, though his -father could have obtained for him a first-rate -appointment. Had he been older, he would have gone -straight over to the other side; but the final defeat -of the king and his death prevented him from -taking that step.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A year or two before our story opens the young -man had gone abroad, had visited King Charles in -Holland, and sworn allegiance to him. This was -unknown to his father, and upon his return he had -contented himself with following the natural course -of events, fully persuaded in his own mind that -when Cromwell should cease to rule England, the -English nation would recall their rightful monarch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His was not an isolated case. There were many -young men--ay, old men too--in England in whom -Charles's death killed republicanism and awoke once -more the smouldering embers of loyalty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As for Ann, she had not hidden her feelings any -more than Lady Fairfax had done; she worshipped -the martyred king. Their mother was a Puritan, -of an old Puritan family, and the defection of her -children was a source of infinite trouble to her. -She ruled her house with Puritanical strictness. -Morning and evening the whole family assembled -for the reading of the Bible and for prayers. She -herself dressed in the plainest attire, without -furbelows or jewels of any kind. Her maids and the -men who served in the house were clothed after -the same fashion. Ann at one time sought to -array herself something after the mode of the -French court, with laces and ribbons, and with -her hair curled; but her mother would not have it, -and more than once she was sent to her chamber -to dress herself decently; and so wisely Ann yielded -to her mother, and wore the plain muslins and sober -colours which marked a Puritan girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With her son Mistress Newbolt never discussed -matters, for she knew that he would not yield to -her one inch. He had told her once and for all, -when he was quite a lad, that he was a king's -man, and that he would never draw his sword in -any other cause. He was her own son, as steadfast -as she was, in holding fast by what he considered -to be right. At the present moment she was deeply -grieved at her husband's action in furthering the -accession of Charles II.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was of no use for Colonel Newbolt to reason -with his wife, to show her that the kingdom could -not be governed by such men as Richard Cromwell, -and who else was there to govern it? The nation at -large called for their sovereign, for their old race of -kings; and he, Colonel Newbolt, hoped and believed -that the new king had learnt wisdom in exile, and -would govern with equity and justice. He said as -much to his wife, but Mistress Newbolt laughed -scoffingly. "Did you ever know a Stuart govern -wisely?" she asked. "That man, Charles Stuart, -will surely bring his mother back again and lodge -her in Somerset House with her French people and -her priests, where so lately the Lord Protector hath -lain in state. Ay, the tide has turned, and you with -it; but as for me, I stand by the good cause, as befits -the daughter of one who fell at Dunbar."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So there was a sharp division in the house. Mistress -Newbolt spoke little, but they sometimes heard -her singing slowly and fervently in her own room to -the old tune sung before the victory at Dunbar:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"O Lord our God, arise and let</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Thine en'mies scattered be;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And let all them that do Thee hate</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Before Thy presence flee".</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Hearing her one day as they stood together at the -window in the picture gallery, Ann said to her -brother:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If only she does not persuade our father to -change his mind again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She will not do that; my father's mind is fixed -for once," answered Reginald. "He said only the -other day, 'The great Lord Protector is dead; there -is none to take his place; we can but trust the future -to God. It were foolish for me to set my face against -the new order of things. I should neither make nor -mend, and I should probably lose all I have -gained--my lands and my money'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann bent her head. "Yes, that holds him," she -said. "He loves this place; he would not part with -it on any consideration."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But suppose the rightful heir should turn up?" -said Reginald.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no rightful heir," answered Ann; "the -last man died at Worcester, childless."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was he married?" asked Reginald.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes!" said Ann; "there is an old woman -down the village who knew him, and saw his young -bride when he brought her home to this very house, -a lovely girl, she said, too tender to weather the -storms of these rough times; so when her husband -died, she, broken-hearted, died also."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And we have stepped into their place," said -Reginald; "at least, there is no one to reproach us with -it. No one seems to have any claim except perhaps -some distant cousins of the late De Lisles I once -heard of."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you ever tried to find out aught concerning -these De Lisles?" asked Ann.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes I have," answered Reginald, "for I have -always had a sort of feeling against ousting people -out of their rights."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, well! it would make no difference," said -Ann, "for my father told me that the deeds which -gave us this estate were well and securely made out -to him and to his heirs for ever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For ever!" repeated Reginald, with a light laugh; -"as if there could be a for ever in this world." And -he turned on his heel and went his way across the -quadrangle beneath the great porch, where Ann lost -sight of him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If he did find a lost heir," said Ann, "he is -capable of throwing up his inheritance, at least if he -were the master, which he is not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Reginald swung down the broad avenue of -lime-trees, he saw his father coming towards him. -It vexed him, for they had but little in common.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Colonel Newbolt was a man who had risen from -the people. He had displayed considerable military -talents, which Cromwell had been quick to recognize -and to make use of; so he had pushed John Newbolt, -stirring up his ambition and throwing titbits to him -as one does to a hungry dog, and Newbolt had -responded. He was not a man likely to go back, or to -suffer himself to be defrauded of what he had gained -honestly, as he considered, therefore he now -persuaded himself that the change in his political -opinions was both desirable and lawful. His position -had been, according to his lights, honestly won, both -in the field and in Parliament, where he had taken -his seat. It was but natural that he should desire -to retain his place and wealth, and hand them down -to his son.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was glad that circumstances had enabled him -to join hands with Reginald, and, as is often the case, -his new loyalty was somewhat exaggerated, almost to -bravado.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Reggie, will you be ready to ride -to-morrow?" he asked boisterously, as he came up -towards him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where to?" asked the youth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, to London, of course, man! We must -not be laggards. I would not miss the king's -entrance into the city for a hundred pounds."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had not thought of going so soon," said Reginald; -"but if you desire it, I will accompany you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do desire it," said his father; "we will go -together."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As far as London," said Reginald; "but as for -presenting myself with you before the king, I cannot -do that; I have no place at court."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tush, tush, man!" said his father, "we will soon -find you one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks! but I am in no hurry," said Reginald; -"nevertheless I will ride with you. I should like to -see the pageant, and shout 'Long live the king!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A cloud had gathered on the colonel's brow. He -perceived only too clearly that his son was unwilling -to appear at court under his auspices, and he did not -dare to press the matter, because, though Reginald -was always respectful and in a general way obedient, -the father was afraid of him. He knew it was a case -of "so far and no farther".</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When are you thinking of starting?" asked Reginald.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not later than to-morrow early," said the colonel, -"so see you are ready. You had better take two -men for your own service, and I will take two for -myself. Look to their clothes, their horses' harness, -and their appointments altogether. I would not be -behind my fellows."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Am I to go as a Cavalier or as a Roundhead?" -said his son.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Roundhead!" answered his father furiously. -"Who talks of Roundheads? Are we not all Cavaliers? -Why, if you play your cards well, you may -yet be Sir Reginald Newbolt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay," said Reginald, "there are many better -men than we are, Father, who have won knighthood -fighting for the king; they must come first, we after, -if at all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense!" said his father; "if our new king -picks and chooses like that, he will make a great -mistake. Why, who are bringing him back? Not -Royalists, but Cromwell's men. Let him remember -that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reginald shrugged his shoulders. "At least I -should not put myself to the fore, if I were you, -Father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are a fool, Reginald. If I hold back I shall -seem half-hearted, and that would never do. I shall -ride and meet the king on his way to London, -and join his escort. Will you come with me or not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As far as London we will ride together," said -Reginald, "but then we will part company. You -are an old soldier; I am not yet sworn in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His father looked at him askance. "Do you -doubt me, Reginald?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not for one moment," answered his son; "but -in this matter I desire to stand alone. We can never -tell, Father; I have a clean record, which may be of -use to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The colonel laughed. "I don't think I run much -danger. Why, there is scarce a man who is welcoming -Charles to London who has not fought with the -Parliamentarians. He would have to take a scythe -if he were to sweep off the heads of all those who -have fought against him. And there is the Treaty -of Breda to protect us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You forget the clause," said Reginald.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tut, tut!" answered the colonel. "De Vere and -a few others will be arrested; the rest will get off."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Possibly," said Reginald, "but I doubt it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At that moment the supper-bell rang out from the -belfry, and father and son went together into the -great hall, which had been the refectory of the monks. -It was a beautiful place, with carved oak panelling -and fretted roof; but Ann noticed as she sat beside -her father that he was somewhat querulous that -night, and drank deeper than was his wont.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Has anything happened?" she asked Reginald -after supper, looking at her father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing that I am aware of," answered Reginald. -"Good-night, little one!" And so they parted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Father and son rode forth together the following -morning on their way to London.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="somerset-house"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Somerset House</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Somerset House, the English home in which Agnes -now found herself, was very different from the -magnificent but sombre Louvre she had left.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It stood almost in the centre of a great bend of -the Thames, so that from its fine terrace could be -seen, on one side the city of London, with its countless -spires and its old bridge, on the other the king's -palace and gardens of Whitehall and the great Abbey -of Westminster.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Built by the Protector Somerset, it had been -greatly improved for Queen Henrietta Maria, who -had furnished it with consummate taste.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On its charming south front, looking out over the -river, in full sunshine, were the queen's principal -apartments: her presence-chamber, private sitting-room, -and her bed-chamber, all protected by the -guard-room. Her windows looked down on wide, -trim lawns, in the centre of which was a basin and -fountain, while beyond was a broad terraced walk, -the walls of which were at each high tide washed by -the Thames.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A handsome flight of steps led down to the river, -where the queen's barge was moored. The Thames -was a high-road full of life and movement, for every -nobleman kept a splendid barge, rowed by many men -in fine liveries.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beyond the queen's apartment were the smaller -rooms occupied by the Princess Henrietta and Agnes -Beaumont, who, though she was but twelve years -old, was raised to the dignity of maid of honour to -the princess, thus establishing her right to be always -beside her in private and in public. Agnes was tall -for her age and slim; the golden curls of her -childhood had darkened to a rich auburn; her features -were delicate but very marked; her complexion fair, -with a soft pink colouring which suited well with the -brown eyes and dark, long lashes. She had been a -beautiful babe, and now she was a fair girl, little -more than a child still, but giving great promise of a -beautiful womanhood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Young as she was, there was a stateliness in her -carriage which betokened high birth. More than -once the queen laughed with Patience:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We cannot hide her dignity if we would," she -said; "she carries her head too high for common folk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patience smiled. "Well, well," she said, "her -father did the same. The proverb says, 'Pride will -have a fall'. Thank God she cannot fall much lower -than she has!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay," answered the queen, "we will make of her -a duchess. My son the king noticed her the other -day and remarked upon her beauty, and he is no -mean judge," she added with a light laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Patience flushed crimson. "I would sooner -his majesty did not cast his eyes on her," she said -in a low voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pshaw!" answered the queen, "she is but a child."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A child who will be a woman before we know it," -said Patience. "His majesty's court is too gay for -such young fledgelings."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well spoken, Patience!" said a man's voice -behind the queen. "Why, methinks my lord Cromwell's -spirit still dwells amongst us in our own house. -You will be a Puritan yet, Patience."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patience made no answer, but bowed and went out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the speaker, Lord Jermyn, took the queen's -hand, kissed it, led her to a chair, and at a sign from -her sat down beside her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Patience is right," he said. "I would keep -those children away from Whitehall as much as possible. -The king has had but a dull time of it in exile; -he is making up for it now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henrietta shrugged her shoulders. "My nephew's -court in Paris is no better," she said, "and there -Henrietta, when she is Duchess of Orleans, will have -to live, and probably Agnes will go with her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Time enough for that," answered Lord Jermyn. -"Do not brush the bloom off the flowers sooner than -need be. They are the prettiest couple at court, -those two, in their young freshness. Have you -spoken to the king concerning Agnes?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, there's time enough," answered the queen. -"It were difficult for the king to act at present. The -estates have passed out of his hands, and he would -raise a hornet's nest if he attempted to take them -from their present owner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think you are wrong," said Lord Jermyn; "the -sooner such things are done the better. If his -majesty cannot restore to her her rightful heritage, -then he must create a new one for her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is probably what he will do," said the -queen. "These are early days, and his hands are full. -His first duty is to do what he is doing, punish the -murderers of his father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, well! he is doing that without mercy," said -Lord Jermyn, and there was a certain bitterness in -his tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you regret it?" asked Henrietta, looking up -at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose it has to be," he answered. "But -such men as Harrison and Carew are being raised to -the dignity of martyrs; they die like men for the -cause they believe in. There, we will not speak of it. -I wish it were all over."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I agree with you, my lord," said the young Duke -of Gloucester, who had just come in. "I wish it were -all over, this judging and this killing. I cannot pass -in the streets but I see the scaffolds, and men dying -thereon with such firmness and show of piety, with a -semblance of joy in their sufferings." And the young -Duke covered his face with his hands. "Mother, -cannot you stop it?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop the avenging of your father's death! Nay, -Henry, that I cannot do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, Mother, pray the king not to have the -scaffold so near us as Charing Cross, or else I will -go hence and never visit you. My Lord Jermyn, -plead for me." And the prince hastily left the room, -and, going along the gallery, knocked at the door -of his sister's apartment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Agnes who opened to him. She was -startled at the pallor of his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is your royal highness ill?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Agnes, but I am sick at heart and I am -sorely puzzled."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come in," said she, "and tell us what ails you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The young duke entered, threw himself into an -arm-chair by the hearth, covering his face with his -hands. The Princess Henrietta came and knelt -beside him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me what ails you, Henry?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would go hence, Henrietta, to that kingdom -where my father wears an immortal crown; these -earthly baubles are not worth the lives they cost. -It is all so puzzling. What is truth? My Father -died for it because he believed in his cause. These -regicides who voted his death are as sure as he was -that they are in the right. I was in the crowd to-day -when a man was being dragged upon a hurdle to -his shameful death. His face was placid and even -cheerful. A low wretch called out to him, 'Where is -your good old cause now?' and he answered with a -smile, clapping his hand upon his heart, 'Here it is, -and I am going to seal it with my blood.' And as -he went on his way I heard him call out, 'I go to -suffer for the most glorious cause that ever was in -the world.'" As if maddened by the sight he had -seen, the young duke rose, saying, "It is all wrong! -It is all wrong! There is no right; I wish I were -out of it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They soothed and calmed him, and he remained -all the afternoon in the princess's apartment; but -Patience did not like the look of him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is sickening for something," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Later, when he tried to stand he could not, his -head was dizzy; so they carried him to his chamber -and they sent for the leech. Perceiving he had high -fever, they bled him, and said, "He will be well on -the morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Upon the morrow he was not well; indeed, the -fever had gained upon him and his mind wandered. -His sister Henrietta would have gone to him, but -the leech would not permit it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We cannot tell what he is sickening for," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few days later the whole court was scared, for -it was known that the Duke of Gloucester had been -attacked by that terrible disease small-pox, which -made as much havoc in high places as in low slums. -That he had been up to the very last with the young -girls, caused both the queen and Patience great -anxiety. They were removed at once from Somerset -House and taken to Hampton Court, that they -might breathe fresh country air, and so rid -themselves of infection. Matters went badly with the -prince. The disease assumed its most virulent form, -and within a fortnight his wish was granted; he had -passed from earth to heaven.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so the court for a time was thrown into -mourning, and Henrietta and Agnes were not permitted -to return until there should be no fear of any -further infection. When the first shock was over -they enjoyed beyond measure their country life; -those beautiful gardens laid out by Cardinal Wolsey -afforded them never-ending pleasure. True, it was -winter time; but the ponds and lakes were frozen -over, and after much pleading and the taking of -many precautions they were suffered to go upon -the ice under the care of some of the gentlemen of -the court. Neither of them knew how to skate. -Henrietta was timid and would not even try to go -alone, holding on to her cavalier's hand, and -sometimes hardly moving; but Agnes grew impatient.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look at that young man and the girl out yonder!" -she said, pointing to a couple who were skimming -over the lake like birds. "It seems so easy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she uttered the words the couple approached -and heard her. The young man was handsome, -with fair hair and blue eyes, and with a certain -nobility of face. The girl was like him; there was -no mistaking they were brother and sister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are right. It is quite easy," said the girl, -as she caught Agnes's last words. "Will you let us -help you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I shall be so glad, so very glad!" answered -Agnes. "It is cold and stupid standing here and -creeping about." And before Patience could -intervene, she had given one hand to the girl, the other -to the young man, and was off between them, slipping -and sliding and laughing. But they steadied her -and told her how to use her feet, guiding her gently, -making it so easy for her that soon she began to feel at -home, and with her natural boldness ventured to say:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now let me go, let me go alone!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't," said the young man; "better not -try to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I must!" said Agnes, and so they let her go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One step, two steps, then she staggered; but they -caught her before she had time to fall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will soon learn; children always do," said -the young man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Child!" she cried; "I am not a child. I am over -twelve years old, and maid of honour to Princess -Henrietta Maria. Who are you?" And she threw -up her head and looked him in the face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His blue eyes laughed quizzically: "I am Reginald -Newbolt," he said, "and this is my sister Ann. We -are not grand people like you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not grand at all; I am nobody," Agnes -answered, colouring. "I must go; Patience is signing -to me, and Princess Henrietta is shivering on the -side of the lake. Will you come again to-morrow -and help me? I should like to be friends with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We shall be only too glad," answered Ann. -"We will come every day as long as the frost lasts. -Now we will take you back to your people."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They took her hands and made her skate in time -with them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To think I can go so well with you and not -alone!" she said. "It is annoying."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You need not fear," said Reginald. "In a few -days you will go alone; you have the knack of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They reached the edge of the lake where the -princess and Patience were standing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it is so cold!" exclaimed the princess, -shivering; "and it is very imprudent of you to go -off like that, Agnes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry to have vexed you," the girl answered; -"but it was just lovely. Will you not try, Princess? -This is Mr. Reginald Newbolt and his sister Ann."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Doffing his cap, Reginald bowed to the princess -and Ann curtsied. Henrietta having recovered -from her ill-temper, as she always did quickly, had -seen that to all outward appearance they were -gentlefolk. She gave them a stately bow, then -repeated:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now we must go home, Agnes; I am frozen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must take off my skates first," answered -Agnes, and she sat down at the edge of the lake -while Patience undid the straps. Then she rose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The princess took Patience's arm and turned -towards home. Agnes followed with Mr. Delarry, -who said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You make friends easily, Mistress Agnes. Do -you know who that young man is?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you not hear me tell the princess that he is -Mr. Reginald Newbolt, and that it is his sister who -is with him?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, they make a handsome couple," said -Mr. Delarry. "Newbolt! Did you say this man's name -was Newbolt?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Agnes; "do you know them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know him after a fashion," answered Mr. Delarry. -"His father is, I believe, Colonel Newbolt. -He is, like many another, an old Parliamentarian who, -to feather his nest, turned king's man and welcomed -the king back. The young man is seeking a commission -in the king's guards and will probably get it, -to the detriment of other and better men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes's face clouded over. "I am sorry his father -was on the wrong side," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You need not trouble, or you will have to be -sorry for many," said Mr. Delarry; "but this young -fellow is a new recruit, and never drew his sword in -the late war. They say he refused a commission in -Cromwell's army."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am glad of that," said Agnes, her face -brightening. "There will be no harm in my skating with -them to-morrow, will there, Mr. Delarry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"None whatever, if Mistress Patience sees none. -He is a handsome fellow, Mistress Agnes, and will -make a fine cavalier."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I like handsome men," she answered, with -childish glee; "and his sister too is pleasant, but she -is prim."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hear her mother is a strict Puritan," said -Mr. Delarry, "and that the colonel had much trouble in -getting her to come up to London with his son and -daughter. She will not show herself at court, much -to his displeasure. Have a care, Mistress Agnes, -or you will be turning Puritan too!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no!" Agnes answered, laughing. "I do -not like them at all, at least the few of them I have -seen in the streets. Patience has pointed them out -to me; they are mostly dressed in black, with white -ruffles and high hats; they look very stern. The -women have black cloaks and white coifs. I like -our own pretty clothes best, and our gay cavaliers -with their broad hats and sweeping plumes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Delarry smiled at her. "You are such a child, -Miss Agnes, still. I thought you were to be a grown -woman when you came to England."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it is coming, coming very fast!" she said. -"Good-bye, Mr. Delarry!" And she left him, and -ran forward to join the princess.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You talk to everybody," said Henrietta to her -reproachfully. "I never knew such a child. What -have you been talking to Mr. Delarry about now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only about my new friends," answered Agnes. -"Oh, you will be nice, Henrietta, and skate with -them to-morrow, won't you? They just fly over the -ice. It is the most delicious sensation I ever knew. -They say in two or three days I shall go alone, -and then," she added mischievously, "let who can -catch me."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="new-friends"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">New Friends</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On the following day Henrietta was nothing loath -to have good sport with Agnes, and Patience was -forced to yield to their desires. Down to the lake -they went, found the Newbolts there, and after a -little persuasion Henrietta ventured on the ice. They -brought a chair for her, and she was content at first -to let Mr. Delarry push her; but Agnes gave her -hands to Ann and Reginald and went off. Presently -she came back alone, so sure of foot was she; her -figure was so light and easy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do try," she said to Henrietta; "it is just -lovely!" And the princess let herself be persuaded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Other gentlemen and ladies joined them, and there -was much laughter and many tumbles, but no one -was hurt. The time passed quickly, until the winter -day was drawing to a close, and still they were not -tired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should never be tired," said Agnes, her face -rosy with the keenness of the air, and her eyes very -bright.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This went on for well-nigh a week. The court -party they were called; they were so happy. All the -commoners made way for them as they went hither -and thither, gliding over the ice. Indeed, people -came from afar and stood on the edge of the lake -looking at them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The princess, Agnes, Ann, and Reginald, were the -principal actors in that scene. The two girls, muffled -in their soft furs, with their petticoats above their -ankles, showing their pretty feet, were a sight to -rejoice the heart, as the sight of all young things -must be. The winter sunshine glinted in Agnes's -bright hair, and lit up her dark eyes with the -happiest, softest merriment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never saw such a pretty creature!" said Reginald -to Ann, when she had left them after the day's -sport.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take care. You will be losing your heart to -her!" said Ann, laughing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have done that long ago," he answered. "The -first time she looked at me she took my heart away -with her. If I had not been a king's man before, she -would have made me one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is but twelve years old," said Ann, laughing; -"you will have to wait long for her, Reginald."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the time will seem but short," he answered, -"if I may but see her once and again. Do you know -her name, Ann?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Agnes, I have heard; nothing more," she -answered. "But that young man, Delarry, said -casually that she had been the darling of the -queen-mother and the princess ever since she was a baby. -Nobody knows aught about her save the queen and -Mistress Patience, who carried her over to France -when she was almost in swaddling clothes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was sure of it," said Reginald. "She is a -child of one of the great old families; she looks it, -my little sweetheart!" And from that time forth -Reginald hovered round Agnes, and people laughed -at her and called him her knight, and she was mighty -pleased and made no little boast of her handsome -cavalier.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was all so open, so fresh, this budding -love; without depth or passion, it had sprung up -like the flowers, and like them was pure and serene. -There was no past, no future for those young -creatures; they lived just for the hour, as with flying -feet they skimmed the ice, the fresh, sharp air -cutting their faces. The joy of life was with them -and upon them as it never would be again. They -did not recognize how with each fleeting moment a -joy-note sounded and died away. In after-years they -would listen for the echo with that intense longing of -hearts which have known unalloyed happiness; would -they hear it again, or would it go from them for ever, -with the flitting moments? Blessed are those who -like them have heard it, whose lips have uttered the -words, "I am so happy, so happy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They came like a song of joy to Agnes's lips as she -went hither and thither with Reginald beside her. -He, bending towards her, said with a note of triumph -in his voice:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would this might last for ever, my little -sweetheart----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For ever!" she repeated. "For ever! Why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had not the heart to cast a shadow on that joy. -Why tell her nothing lasts for ever? And so he only -answered, "Why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the morrow the order came: "Back to Somerset -House; the air is purified; Christmas is coming; -you must come back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before leaving, the princess sent for Reginald -Newbolt and his sister, and they bade each other -farewell. "It will not be for long," said the princess. -"I will ask my mother, the queen, to make you one -of her maids of honour, Mistress Ann; so you may -live with us, for I have taken a great liking to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am afraid the queen will not favour me," was -the quiet answer. "I have not been brought up -after your foreign fashion. I do not know your ways -or manners. I am a plain English girl."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that does not matter at all! We have many -English ladies in our suite, and the queen loves them -well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But my mother would not let me dwell in the -queen's household; she says it is godless," said Ann, -colouring deeply; "it would, I think, break her -heart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah well," said Henrietta carelessly, "you must -please yourself if you are so over-strict."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say rather, I must obey my mother," answered -Ann; "but nevertheless I am grateful to you and -thank you." And she stooped and kissed the princess's -hand. So they parted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she was going out Patrick Delarry met her. -He was an Irishman who had been with the queen in -France, and of earthly possessions had few; but he -was a true Irishman, full of jokes and fun, taking -things lightly even as the Stuarts did, and, because -of this very carelessness, the noble sweetness of Ann -had attracted him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They met in the corridor leading to the grand staircase. -He paused, bowed before her, saying, "This is -no farewell, Mistress Ann; we shall meet in London."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maybe we shall; maybe we shall not," returned -Ann. "The princess is very good and desires to -give me a place at court, but my mother would not -hear of such a thing; she is strict in her conduct, -and has brought her children up as strictly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry," said Delarry, "but I daresay she is -right. Still, that will not prevent our meeting, -Mistress Ann. Your father is serving the king; your -brother will have a commission in the Guards; surely -you will mix in good society?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I greatly fear not," answered Ann. "My mother -says that young maidens should remain at home, and -that the court is full of snares."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Delarry laughed. "It is pretty bad," he said, -"but you will remember that if you owe your duty -to your mother, you owe it also to the king, your -master. If he bids you attend upon his sister, surely -you will not refuse. Somerset House is not Whitehall."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He spoke with significance, and Ann coloured -slightly, for she knew well that the king's palace was -far too gay and frivolous a place for young maidens -who respected themselves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I am summoned to Somerset House," she said, -"and my father desires I should go there, I hope -my mother will let me, for the princess is very sweet -to me and my heart inclines towards her. As for -little Agnes," and she laughed lightly, "I do not -think we shall lose sight of her. My brother has lost -his heart to her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is very evident," said Mr. Delarry; "she is -a pretty child."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must bid you adieu," said Ann. She curtsied -and went quickly on her way down the corridor. -Delarry stood a second and watched her till she -disappeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A pretty Puritan maiden; I didn't know they were -so smart," he thought. "It will not be my fault if -we do not meet again before long, Mistress Ann." And -so he too went his way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That same afternoon the princess and Agnes, with -Patience, entered the royal coach, and were driven -back to Somerset House. They were neither of them -very cheerful, and the way seemed long and cold, for -the air was heavy with snow ready to fall. London -looked dark and sombre when they entered it, with -only the great torches flaring as the torch-bearers held -them on high in front of the coach to guide the driver -through the narrow streets of the city. The courtyard -of Somerset House was also lit up; but it was a -sad home-coming, nevertheless, and the queen-mother -welcomed them with tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not know how it is," she said to her -daughter. "I loved this country once and I was -happy; now I am miserable here. I would go -back to France; this death of your brother is an evil -omen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, Mother, do not go just yet," said Henrietta. -"We have come home at a bad season of the year. -You tell me that the spring is lovely in England; let -us wait and see;" then, sitting before the fire, she -and Agnes told her what good sport they had at -Hampton Court, and they spoke of Reginald and Ann.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The queen frowned. "Patience is over-indulgent -to you," she said. "You have no right to make the -acquaintance of strangers, especially of these -upstarts. You say the father is Colonel Newbolt; he -was one of Cromwell's men. Now, because it suits -himself and his purse, he is a king's man. To-morrow, -if it suits him, he will be the people's man again. -I am sick of it all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you not think it well, Mother, to encourage -these people to become faithful lieges to the king?" -said Henrietta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Faithful!" said the queen, with a mocking laugh. -"I have ceased to look for faithfulness anywhere. -As soon as you are married, Henrietta--and that -will, I trust, be before long--we will go back to -France. Your brother's court does not suit me, and -his friends do not suit me. Your brother, the Duke -of York, is enamoured of Clarendon's daughter, Ann -Hyde, and there has been much scandal--a secret -marriage. It has set the people talking. I tell you -I am sick of it all. There is a vulgarity which -savours not of kings in the whole tone of England now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her daughter did not answer her; she could not--she -did not understand what was amiss. She was but -a girl still. When she was a woman she understood -better.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fortunately it was nearly Christmas time, and so -that season brought a certain amount of gaiety and -brightness. They were not accustomed to make -as much of it in France as in England, where, then -as now, everyone rejoiced, everyone made merry. -It had gone out of fashion to a great extent during -the Commonwealth, but people were glad to go back -to their old ways and drag the Yule-log into the great -hall. It was a good season for the poor, when before -great fires bullocks and sheep were roasted whole -in the streets. There were mummers, and -morris-dances, and all manner of sports.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To Agnes's great disgust a week or two before -Christmas she received a letter from Ann, telling her -that they were going away down to their country -place, because their mother could not abide in -London. She was willing to feast the poor in the -country and those who needed help, but the frivolities of -London did not suit her, and she would not stay -there. Indeed, she was afraid her mother would not -let her come back, which grieved her sorely, for she -loved her friends, and would have gladly served the -Princess Henrietta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she received this letter Agnes wept bitterly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is there no means by which she could be brought -to court?" she said to Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know of none except by the king's command," -said Patience, "and unfortunately the queen-mother -is not well inclined towards the Newbolts."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is their country place?" asked Agnes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How should I know?" answered Patience. -"They are new people who have old lands which by -rights belong to others."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She spoke bitterly, and Agnes noticed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," she said, "I like the Newbolts; I met -the colonel last week when he was presented to the -king. He is a fine man, but the queen received him -coldly; and when I asked the princess why her -mother did so, she said, 'Because she misdoubts all -old Parliamentarians. There is not one of them but -had a hand in my father's death'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Well, at least Reginald hadn't,'" I said. "He -was very young at the time, and both he and Ann -have told me that when they heard of the king's -death they wept and stamped their feet at their -father, saying it was a shame, for which their mother -flogged them both and sent them to bed with bread -and water. 'But it only made us more loyal,' Ann -said. By the bye, Patience, do you know I saw -Reginald ride past the other day on his way to -Whitehall in the full uniform of the King's Guard? He -looked so handsome."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where did you see him from?" asked Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, from the stained mullion window in the -corridor behind my room. I often go and stand -there because I see into the Strand. I think I like -the town better than the river."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Happily, it is a stained window, so people do not -see you," said Patience. "It is not seemly for a -maiden to be staring on to the public road."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But people do see me," said Agnes. "Reginald -saw me, and he saluted. You know he is my knight, -Patience."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know I will not suffer you to behave thus," -said Patience. "A cavalier saluting a maiden at -her window, above all things a maiden in Somerset -House! It must not be, Agnes; you are old enough -to know better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not know what I am," answered the girl -impetuously. "Sometimes I am a child, sometimes -a girl, sometimes I am almost a grown woman, -as suits your fancy, Patience." And the big tears -gathered in her eyes and rolled down her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My pretty, my pretty, do not weep," said -Patience, and she put her arm round the girl's waist -and drew her upon her lap. "You must mind what -I am going to say to you, Agnes," she continued. -"You are not like other girls, and you must be -circumspect. You have no one to defend you from evil -tongues, no one to lift you up if you were to fall; -you are alone. The queen loved your mother; your -father died for her husband, and so she harbours -you; but she may not always do so. The day -may come when she will go back to France, and -that will be no place for you when the princess is -married."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not--why not?" said Agnes. "I shall go -with her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not if I can help it," answered Patience. "I love -you too well, my dove, to let you scorch your wings -in the court of the Palais Royal and Versailles. We -must remain in England, Agnes, and the king must -pension you; it is your due."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But have I no kith or kin, no one belonging to -me?" asked the girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No one," answered Patience, "at least that I -know of."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And did my father and mother leave me no -wealth and no lands?" said Agnes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What gold they had," said Patience, "I took to -France with me, and all these years it has served us. -There is not much left, and as for lands they are -forfeited. Cromwell did what he chose with them and -gave them to whom he would. So you see, my -child, you must be prudent. One thing you have -which you must hold--your good name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Agnes Beaumont," said the girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is not all, you have another name," said -Patience, looking at her, "but I have sworn not to -reveal it to you until your wedding day or till you are -of age."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?" she asked. "Why should not I know -my own name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because it might be a danger to you," answered -Patience. "There are those who might wish you ill -and do you wrong. When you have a husband you -will have someone to defend you; when you are of -age you must judge for yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does no one except you know who I am?" asked Agnes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, the queen-dowager knows, and the king," -said Patience. "When he gives you back what is -yours, then he will tell you himself what your station is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tears gathered in Agnes's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not like it," she said. "Have I anything to -be ashamed of?" she asked, her voice trembling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ashamed!" exclaimed Patience. "No, indeed! far -from that. I tell you it is for your own personal -good, to shield you from those who have taken your -lands from you and who might resent their being -restored to you. You are the last of your race; your -very birth has been hidden, but it will all come right -one day if only you will be patient."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well," said Agnes, "I will ask no questions; -I will wait. It does not really matter, only I -heard someone say the other day, 'Agnes Beaumont! -What Beaumont is that?' and no one seemed to -know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was your mother's name," said Patience; -"you have a right to bear it, for you were christened -Agnes Beaumont. Your father's name alone is wanting, -and that you will surely claim one day, either -you or your husband for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that husband!" said Agnes, laughing; "I -wonder who he will be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A noble gentleman, I trust," said Patience, "who -will give you back all that you have lost."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes pouted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not care to go to any man as a beggar -girl," she answered proudly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That you surely will not," answered Patience. -"Have no fear. And now let me dress you. The -princess is going to Whitehall with the queen -to-night, and you are to accompany her. It is a -mistake, a great mistake," continued Patience; "you are -too young."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! but I like it," said Agnes; "I like going to -the king's court, and, if the Princess Henrietta goes, -surely it cannot hurt me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patience shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not so sure of that," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well, never mind!" said Agnes; "you dear -old thing, you are always frightened lest something -should befall me. Let me wear my satin gown -embroidered with rosebuds to-night; it becomes me -well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You cannot," said Patience; "the court is in -mourning still, have you forgotten?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! yes, I forgot," said Agnes. "The poor duke. -Well, give me my lilac gown with the black knots." And -thus soberly attired she went to court.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="may-day"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">May-Day</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Time flies for the young; the days, the weeks, the -months seem to have wings; they heed it not, they -are glad, because each day is a new joy, a new surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So it was with the Princess Henrietta and Agnes. -They had no cares, at least Agnes had none. She -loved the winter, the biting cold, the snow, the frost; -she would go out with Patience in all weathers, and -ofttimes with the princess to St. James's Park, where -they would skate and otherwise disport themselves. -Gradually, however, Agnes fell into the background; -she was too young to be at all the court parties, and -Patience observed this to the queen-dowager.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is but a child, and the late hours are injuring -her," she said; "let her abide at home with me." And -the queen acquiesced; indeed, she knew full well -that the king's court was no place for the young.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Arrangements were being made for Henrietta's -marriage to the Duke of Orleans, and many noblemen -and courtiers came over from France to greet -her. Her time was much taken up with all this, so -that Agnes naturally drifted into a quieter world, and -was seen less and less in public, excepting when -there were grand receptions at Somerset House. -Some of these she was permitted to attend, for -girls were older for their years in those days than -they are now; still, she was not as much at home in -the court circle as she had been when she was only -a spoilt child. She did not care for, or rather she -did not understand, the compliments which were -sometimes addressed to her--for she was very pretty, -nay, she was beautiful, and attracted not a little -attention from women as well as men. She was a -general favourite, and if Patience would have allowed -it she would have had many invitations and have -been made much of. But Patience was a very -dragon of propriety.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You shall not go," she said. "You are too young."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not care to go," Agnes answered. "I -cannot abide it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>More than once Patience found her asleep, her -pillow wet with tears. She did not question her, -she guessed what it was. The first sorrow in her -life would soon come. In June the Princess -Henrietta was to be married, and then they would be -parted and she would be alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That will not be good for the child," Patience -reasoned. "What shall I do with her, where shall -I take her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A curious thing happened. Ann Newbolt had -returned to London and little by little had wound -herself into Patience's good graces. More than -once they had met in the park when Agnes was -taking her morning airing. Ann was given to -coming thither at the same hour with two dogs -which she brought with her to give them a free run.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I could not be without them," she would say, -"and so I begged Father to let me bring them up -from the manor for company's sake. Our big -London house is so dreary."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now Agnes had never had any animals of her -own, and her delight was great when, after a few -outings, Cæsar and Juno--for so they were -called--learned to know her, and would bound across the -park when they saw her coming, and well-nigh -knock her down with joy. She would run with -them, she would play with them. At first this was -much to Patience's displeasure; but Ann had her -old nurse with her, and she said to Patience:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let the child be, let her run and play; she is -too much cooped up in your palace. Do you not -see she is growing pale?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann chimed in, "She is like a hot-house plant; -you are forcing her, Mistress Patience."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not I," returned Patience, "but those who -surround her, those who do not understand that -she is a child."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you not take her into the country and -let her run wild for a year or two?" asked Ann's -nurse. "Then you would bring her back as fresh and -fair as a rose. Court life is not good for children."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would I could do it," said Patience; "but I -am not mistress."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall you go back to France with the queen?" -asked Ann.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I will not do that," said Patience; "I -would rather carry her away and hide her. King -Charles's court is bad enough; what the Duke of -Orleans will be I dare not even think. No, I will -keep my sweet lamb unspotted if I can. She -knows no evil, therefore she sees none, though she -be hedged in with wrong-doers. But that will not -always be. I promised her dear mother I would -protect her, and so, help me God, I will."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will do well," said Ann. "She is a sweet -flower, and worthy of all care; I would she were -my sister."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I pray I may live to see her an honest man's -wife," said Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such conversations as these were frequent between -the two, Patience not having the remotest idea that -it was the Newbolts who possessed the lands which -should have been Agnes's heritage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Newbolts were equally ignorant that Agnes -was a De Lisle. To them she was, and had ever -been, plain "Agnes Beaumont", the queen's favourite -and the Princess Henrietta's devoted companion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But enlightenment was soon to come to Patience. -The winter passed, and the spring began to show -itself. The trees in the park were budding green; -April showers succeeded March winds, and there -was much gaiety in London. Gilded coaches went -and came in the streets, barges floated up the -Thames, and no one troubled, though many knew, -that the royal exchequer was well-nigh empty. The -people adored their king as they had never adored -his saintly father. Wherever he passed there were -shouts of, "Long live the king!" and his smiles and -bows were received with enthusiasm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Never had a king been so popular. There was -laughter and merriment everywhere, dancing and -songs even in the streets. The only place where -any decorum was observed was at Somerset House. -There the queen-dowager dwelt, and the people -did not love her. She never had been a favourite. -Many people were ready to lay the blame of her -dead husband's errors upon her shoulders, so they -frowned upon the queen-dowager and her sombre -court, while they laughed at the merry court at -Whitehall, and would not listen to the evil reports -of the goings-on within its precincts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The pendulum had swung back; the order of the -day had changed; they treated Charles, his follies, -his sins, as they might have treated the peccadilloes -of a spoilt child. When he rode forth in his gilded -coach or went on horseback through the city with -his favourites and his brother, the Duke of York, -in his rich attire of gold and satin, his long, curled -wig, great hat with plumes which swept almost on -to his shoulders, the people were wild with delight, -and would press round him in their eagerness; and -he would speak to them, calling them his good people, -bidding them make way for him, with that wonderful -charm of manner, that smile, which was the inherent -gift of the Stuart race, and won every heart. They -cared not what he did nor what he said; he was their -king, their chosen one, their beloved. If he -squandered money they laughed, and hardly grumbled at -supplying his extravagances. Had he not suffered -dire poverty in those evil days when Cromwell sat -in his seat and the Puritan preachers thundered -their maledictions against him from St. Paul's Cross? -Every old English custom which could be raked up -was brought to the fore, to the extreme delight of all -men. He touched for the king's evil, and the sick -believed they were cured. In the people's imaginings -he could not do wrong, though wrong stared them -in the face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In olden days there had stood in the Strand a -big May-pole, which was decorated on the first of -May with flowers and ribbons, and round which -sports, and dances, and great merriment were wont -to take place; but when the Puritans were masters -they exclaimed against this device, as they did -against everything that savoured of pleasure, which -they considered unholy. So the ancient May-pole, -which stood a hundred feet high in the Strand, had -been hewn to the ground; there were no more -sports on May-Day. Indeed, there were few sports -in England at all during that season of strict -observance of the Sabbath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Young men and maidens well-nigh forgot how to -dance. They went softly, they laughed but little, -because at any sign of outward rejoicing their -elders frowned upon them. The faces of the men -seemed to grow longer, the pretty curls on the -maidens' heads were smoothed away beneath tight-fitting -caps. It was not a genial time, and so now, -when the sun shone, and the flowers burst forth, -there arose a gentle murmur throughout the land: -"Let us have our May-poles again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>London was, as usual, the first place whence this -cry proceeded, and thousands responded to it--the -king and the Duke of York among the foremost. -Yes, they would have a May-pole, larger and finer -than any previous one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The citizens of London determined to make a -display of their loyalty. We read in an old tract -of the times, called "The City's Loyalty Displayed", -how this tree was a most choice and remarkable -piece. "'Twas made below bridge" (that is, below -London Bridge), and brought in two parts up to -Scotland Yard, near the king's palace of Whitehall, -and thence it was conveyed, on April 14, 1661, to -the Strand, to be erected there. It was brought -with streamers flourishing before it, drums beating -all the way, and other sorts of music. It was so -long that landsmen could not possibly raise it; -therefore the Duke of York, Lord High Admiral of -England, commanded twelve seamen to come and -officiate in this business.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They came, and brought their cables, pulleys, and -other tackle, along with six great anchors. After -these were brought three crowns, borne by three men, -bareheaded, and a streamer displayed all the way -before them, drums playing, and other music; people -thronging the streets with great shouts and acclamations -all day long. The May-pole then being joined -together and looped about with bands of iron, the -crown and cane ("the sceptre"), with the king's -arms richly gilded, was placed on the head of it. A -large hoop like a balcony was about the middle of it. -Then, amidst sounds of trumpets and drums, and -loud cheering, and the shouts of the people, the -May-pole, far more glorious, bigger, and higher than any -that had preceded it, was raised upright, "which", -we are told, "highly pleased the merry monarch and -the illustrious prince, the Duke of York, and the little -children did much rejoice, ancient people did clap -their hands, saying, 'the golden days had begun to -appear'. A party of morris-dancers came forward, -finely decked with purple scarves and their half -shirts, with tabor and pipe--the ancient music--and -danced round about the May-pole."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This went on for some time, and there never was -seen again such a May-day as in this year of Our -Lord, 1661.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the windows of Somerset House Princess -Henrietta and Agnes watched the ceremonies. The -putting up and the decking of this token that "the -summer had come ", aroused a more tenacious loyalty -than ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Day by day, as they watched, Agnes's excitement -increased; it was no use for Patience to tell her she -should not be seen at the open window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must, I must!" she cried; and, indeed, it would -have been cruel to hinder her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All over England that May-Day was remembered -long afterwards. The king had come into his rights -again, the people had come into theirs, and they -would not be gainsaid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As for Agnes, she tried to put care on one side, -though she knew that Henrietta's marriage loomed -not far distant; sometimes she wondered what was -to become of her when it was accomplished. Once -or twice she approached Patience on the subject, but -she frowned and answered her:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not trouble, child. Think ye that you are -of less account than the sparrows on the -house-tops or the lilies in the field?" And she would -hurry away, leaving Agnes with her own thoughts -and her own fears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No wonder if on the child's face there came a -serious expression, a certain sadness, which is often -to be seen on the faces of children who are motherless -and fatherless, a sort of yearning for something, -they know not what, that has been denied to them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And yet Agnes was not unhappy. Mistress Newbolt -had refused at first to come up to London, but -the colonel had insisted she should do so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is injuring Ann's prospects," he said, "and -I cannot entertain guests in a house where there is -no mistress." Therefore she had been obliged to -yield, but she did so only in so far that she ruled the -servants and saw that there was no wilful waste. -For herself she remained in her own apartments, and -would not join in the entertainments which her -husband delighted in, neither would she permit Ann to -do so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus it came to pass that Agnes and Ann drew -closer and closer one to the other. Not a day -passed but they saw one another. Agnes -delighted to go to their house, and, strange to tell, -Mistress Newbolt took a vast liking to her. She -would let her follow her into her store closet; she -would let her watch her make the dainty comfits -for which she was renowned; and she would send -her away with all manner of good things piled -in a little basket which she kept for that purpose. -But if she did her these kindnesses, she insisted -that every time she came to see her she should go -with her to her closet, and there she would read -to her some portion of the Bible and would pray -with her. Agnes conformed meekly to her desires. -She looked upon her as a saint, and though she was -stern and cold, and never caressed her, there was a -certain motherliness about her which appealed to the -child's heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the month of June came, and the Princess -Henrietta was carried over to France to meet the -saddest fate that can befall any woman, namely to -marry a bad man. Agnes thought her heart would -break when she bade her and the queen adieu. -Indeed, she fell quite sick with sorrow, lay on her bed, -turned her face to the wall, and would not be -comforted.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-first-parting"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">A First Parting</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Queen Henrietta had been loath to part from -Agnes, and she would have kept the child about her -person had it been possible for her to do so, and had -Agnes been a few years older; but to take a child just -budding into girlhood alone, without any other -companion, or without any definite object in view, to the -French court seemed folly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It had been settled that Patience should make a -home for her in England. The queen had spoken -seriously to the king about Agnes, and he had -settled a pension on her, "until I can do better," -he said. "But we must first find out to whom -her estates have passed. I'll enquire into the -matter. I do not suppose I shall be able to -restore them to her; but something shall be done either -when she marries or comes of age. Till then I -will give her a suite of apartments at Hampton -Court."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is good," said Henrietta, "and my little -lady shall have her town house too, for I will leave -Patience in charge of my private apartments in -Somerset House. I do not care for all manner of -people to have access to them, and so Agnes can -come to town when she likes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And to court when she is old enough," said -Charles, with a merry laugh and twinkling eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, your majesty," answered Henrietta, "she -must wait for that till my return, and until her -position is settled. She has no womankind to watch -over her except Patience, so she must abide at home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As you please," said Charles carelessly. So the -matter was settled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henrietta explained all this to Patience, Agnes -standing by and listening. They even went out to -Hampton Court and looked at the apartments which -the king had ordered to be prepared for her. The -rooms were bright enough, looking out upon a sort -of private garden, in a wing of the palace. The -queen thought them poorly furnished, and added -many little comforts and graceful remembrances, -which made them look more home-like.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At times over this unfortunate queen's soul, seared -and wounded by sorrow, the old gaiety, the warm, -affectionate nature with which she was endowed, -would once more show itself, oftener perhaps to -Agnes than to anyone else, even oftener than to her -own daughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She grows so like her mother," she said one day -to Patience, tears filling her eyes, and then she would -give Agnes some present, and make much of her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My little girl," she said at parting, "it costs me -a great deal to leave you behind, but I think Patience -is right. You have much to learn. Apply yourself to -study; both you and Henrietta have been neglected. -It does not matter for her--the women at the French -court are for the most part ignorant, some of them -can scarcely read or write; but your home will be in -England--your father and mother desired it--and -some women are very learned in England. I have -left you good teachers, a tutor, and a governess, so -see that your time is well employed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she kissed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a very lonely little maiden who walked on -the terrace of Somerset House, a beautiful -dove-coloured greyhound, which the queen had given her, -her only companion. The animal kept close to its -little mistress, thrusting its long muzzle into her hand -as if to console her, its speaking brown eyes looking -up at her as if to say, "Never mind. We are both -young; we shall see them again"; and so she paced -up and down the terrace, then, bidding Duke lie -down and wait for her, she entered the chapel--a -lovely piece of architecture, the work of Inigo -Jones--the doors of which were always kept open, though, -now the queen was gone, they would be closed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It required considerable tact in those difficult -religious times to bring up a child born of English -parents in the midst of the French court. But -Patience was a wise woman, broad-minded, and with -what was then an almost unknown quality, a vast -toleration. She held an anomalous position in the -queen's household, even as Agnes herself did; but -the marked deference the queen-mother showed her, -made it evident that she was a person of high -station. The education both of Agnes and the -Princess Henrietta was left, to a very great extent, in -her hands; it was the same with the religious -teaching, the princess had the court chaplain, but -Agnes knelt with Patience and learnt the great -truths of religion from her lips; she guarded her -soul as she guarded her body, she would allow of no -religious discussions in her presence. To the grand -services of the Church of Rome she did not take -her. "You are too young, you would not -understand," she said; but morning and evening she -would go with her into one of the many beautiful -churches in Paris, and in silence and devotion watch -and pray. So the child learnt all reverence and the -great gospel truths. The Bible was a familiar book -to her, read in their quiet chamber. "When you are -older you will learn many other things," she told -her; and since they had come to England Agnes -had awakened to the knowledge that the Christian -Church was divided against itself. Sometimes the -thought troubled her. Her soul was growing, she -was striving to see and understand. Instinctively -now, in this her first sorrow, she sought comfort -where alone she knew it could be found, and so she -entered the beautiful chapel and knelt and prayed -that her friends might be given back to her. Then -she crossed her arms on the back of the prie-Dieu, -and her tears flowed fast and little sobs escaped her. -Suddenly she felt a hand laid on her shoulder, and -looking up she saw Patience. They both gazed into -each other's eyes and smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be comforted, sweetheart," whispered Patience; -and the beauty of her face, the saintliness of it, -struck Agnes as it had never done before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In truth, Patience, even in appearance, was by no -means an ordinary woman. She had a marked -personality, was tall and slight, holding herself very -erect, always dressed in black, plainly but not -inelegantly. She had a certain distinction about her. -In age she could not have been more than forty, and -she did not look that even. Under her white coif -her brown hair waved softly; there were no wrinkles -or marks of age upon her face; her hazel eyes were -clear, but with an ineffable sadness in them--indeed, -sadness was the note which Patience struck. She -was seldom seen to smile; even when Agnes was a -little child she played with her sadly; but she loved -her so intensely that the child did not feel this -sadness. She would sooner be with Patience than with -anyone; Patience meant home to her. She seldom -openly caressed her, but then her whole life toward -Agnes was one caress, and instinctively the child felt -this.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now she rose quickly from her knees, and threw -her arms round her neck, murmuring:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At least I have you, my own dear Patience; you -have not forsaken me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you think that possible, my darling?" And -taking her by the hand, she led her out into the open. -With a short bark of joy and a prolonged whine, -Duke sprang upon them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was looking for you," said Patience, "and -could not find you. Duke saw me coming along the -terrace, and bounded whining to me. 'Where is -Agnes?' I asked him. He turned, leapt towards -the chapel, looking round to see that I followed him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, he is a dear dog!" said Agnes, laying her -hand on his head. "Why were you looking for me, -Patience? You knew I should not be far."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because you forget you are alone now," was the -quiet answer, "and you must not wander away; it -is not safe for a young girl like you to be alone. -You know how seldom I left you and the princess, -and then you had an attendant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought that was for the princess," said Agnes, -"because of her high dignity. It does not matter -about me; I am nobody."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A slight smile played round Patience's mouth. -"We are all somebody," she said; "we have our -honour to safeguard, and a young maiden cannot be -seen alone, in these times especially."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that why I am to have a governess?" asked -Agnes sharply. "I do not like it; let me stay with -you, Patience."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For you to run away as you have done now?" -was the answer. "Besides, you need someone to -teach you many things of which I am ignorant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I am to have a tutor too; I cannot require -both," Agnes continued. "We shall be happier -alone, Patience, you and I. I will promise you I will -work and never run away; and when you want to -leave me, to see after the queen's affairs, Ann Newbolt -will come and sit with me or stay with me if her -mother will let her. I cannot have a governess -sending me to the right and to the left; it would -drive me wild; </span><em class="italics">that would</em><span> make me run away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, we will see," said Patience; "I am not -much inclined for it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you are not inclined for it at all!" said -Agnes. "Think of someone always present in our -quiet evenings, or when we stroll about as we are -doing now; a third party would not be pleasing to -either of us. If I must needs always have someone -with me, then there is old Martha; surely she will -frighten anyone away, and snarl like an angry dog -if man, woman, or child come within ten yards of me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again Patience smiled--she never laughed. It was -a sad smile, as if there lay beneath it a whole world -of memories.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They moved to the edge of the terrace and looked -up and down the river. The waters sparkled and -shone in the sunlight of this lovely June day. Barges -went and came, boatmen shouted to one another, the -sky was blue, the light of the sun was dazzling: it -was one of those days which have a touch of Italy in -them--the very air was warm with perfume, and the -scene was so bright that it seemed to sweep away -the great sadness which had oppressed Agnes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, you will think about it, Patience," she -persisted. "We must be happy together, you and I. -After all, I knew the princess would go one day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once more the tears gathered in her eyes; but -they did not fall, for coming towards them was -Reginald Newbolt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He made them a deep bow, his plumed hat sweeping -the ground, and his young handsome face alight -with kindly sympathy. He saw the tears in Agnes's -eyes, but taking no note of them, said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My mother has sent me to ask you on this lovely -day to go with her in our barge to the park at -Greenwich, which adjoins the palace. It is well in -the country, and the air is fresher there than it is -here in the city. You must come, because my mother -so seldom proposes anything approaching a diversion. -I have not known her go beyond the precincts -of her own home for years. I think, Mistress Agnes, -you have thrown your spell upon her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes blushed. "I should like to go," she said. -"Can we, Patience?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?" was the quiet answer, for Patience -knew that Mistress Newbolt had conceived this plan -to divert Agnes from her sadness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, we will go," she said. "Where is the barge?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At London Bridge. You can use your own till -you get there, then you will use ours. Ann and -mother will be waiting for us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A barge not unlike a Venetian gondola always -stood moored to the steps leading down from the -terrace to the water's edge, so they had not far to -go. The distance to London Bridge was but short, -and during the journey to Greenwich Agnes found -herself made much of, not allowed to grieve or feel -herself alone. She was verily a spoilt child, and -whilst Patience and Mistress Newbolt sat beneath -the trees in the Park, Agnes, Reginald, and Ann -wandered into the quaint old garden of the palace -known as "The Queen's House", filled with all the -blossoms of summer, scented with great bunches of -lavender and sweet marjoram. As they strolled -about there the strength of her youth overcame the -sorrow of her heart, and the great world in which -Agnes had lived so lonely, fine gentlemen and ladies, -valets and maid-servants, all those accessories to -court life, seemed to drop away from her as useless -and cumbersome. The sweetness and simplicity of -nature, as she had never known it before, crept over -her. She had lived all her life in palaces surrounded -by etiquette, now for the first time in her life she -walked with quiet folk, with neither queens nor -princesses, only with this simple maiden Ann and this -young man, who, notwithstanding his military attire, -was so easy and kindly of manner that she had no -fear of him. To divert her thoughts Reginald and -his sister talked to her about things of which she -knew little--the country, the flowers. They told her, -too, of Newbolt Manor, and how pleasant it was up -in the bonnie north.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you have not always dwelt there?" said Agnes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," answered Ann, "we are new people. -Cromwell gave it to my father for his services. One -thing comforts me," continued Ann, "we have -turned no one out, for there was no heir; the last -owner was killed fighting for King Charles."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It would not have mattered if there had been an -heir," said Agnes, a little bitterly; "we Royalists -were dispossessed of all we had. What was the -name of the people who came before you in the land?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"De Lisle," said Reginald shortly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An old man busy weeding a pathway suddenly -drew himself up and said sharply:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"De Lisle! Who talks of the De Lisles? They -were accursed and driven out, possessors of church -lands. Fire and sword have purified them; they will -come back again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked from one to another till his eyes rested -on Agnes. Pointing at her, he added:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yea, verily, they will come back to their own -again. Hate drove them out; love will bring them -back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a prophetic tone in his voice and a -flash in his eye; both died out, and he went back to -his weeding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let us go into the park," said Agnes; "he has -frightened me, I know not why."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Passing through a side gate they entered the park, -crossed a stretch of level grass, and came to the foot -of a steep hill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's see who will reach the top first," said Ann -gleefully. "Not you, Reginald, that would not be -fair." And off she went, Agnes running beside her, -the one a strong north-country girl, the other a fairy -creature, who had never climbed a hill in her life. -But Agnes was so light, so swift, that she outran -her companion, and stood at the top of the hill -clapping her hands and laughing with pleasure. -Reginald with long strides had followed them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are a fay," he said. "Now let us run down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All of us!" exclaimed Agnes, excited with the -unusual motion, and the fresh breezes which came -from land and river.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give me your hand," said Reginald, "or you -will be tripping."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She would have resisted, but he took it. And it was -well he did, for she had not reckoned on the impetus -of a downhill race, and more than once her foot -slipped on the green sward; but he held her firmly, -and they reached the bottom, laughing merrily, her -pretty golden hair all ruffled with the wind, her face -flushed, and her eyes bright.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann was equally joyous. They were a merry trio -when they joined Patience and Mistress Newbolt -under a great oak tree, where a cloth had been -spread, pies, and cakes, and a heap of ripe -strawberries presenting a tempting meal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Verily there are bright days in life which leave -their mark in our hearts, and bring a rush of -gladness to the eyes and a smile to the lips when we -recall them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This day was a red-letter day; it had begun sadly, -but it ended brightly. They re-entered the barge, and -in the quiet evening twilight they floated up the great -river on the top of the tide, and, landing once more -at Somerset House, bade each other farewell, with -a feeling of regret that so lovely a day had its -ending.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-king-s-vengeance"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">A King's Vengeance</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>For some time past both Mistress Newbolt and Ann -had noticed a great restlessness in Colonel Newbolt's -speech and manner. He was given to great rages. -If anyone came suddenly into the house, he would -start up and question them as to their business; -indeed, it seemed to his family as if he feared -something.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann told Reginald this one day, and the young -man looked grave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not surprised," he answered. "Matters are -getting serious; the king's exchequer is somewhat -empty and difficult to refill, and those about him are -not scrupulous as to the ways and means by which it -may be replenished. You know that all the principal -regicides, eighty or ninety odd, some of the best -men, have already been dragged to the scaffold, and -in most cases their property has been confiscated. -But this does not suffice; there are hundreds of -others, gentlemen and commoners, ministers, all -sorts and conditions of men, who, if they did not -vote for the king's death, did not vote against it. -Many have been arrested and thrown into prison; -some have fled to Geneva, where they are safe; -others are in hiding; but some, like my father, have -remained at home, fully persuaded that no harm is -likely to befall them, seeing they have given their -adhesion to Charles II. But I am much afraid this -will not be enough. Courtiers are turning a cold -shoulder to them, and I find myself somewhat put -on one side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should not be surprised at any moment if my -father were called to account and in a certain -measure made to refund, for the old Royalists are -clamouring to be restored to their estates and to be -rewarded for their fidelity. Charles tries to satisfy -them in many cases, but not in all; he cannot, and -there is much discontent. An empty exchequer and -followers who have despoiled themselves for their -masters are difficult to deal with. It is not a pleasant -prospect, and both he and his ministers seem to think -the only way of meeting it is by taking back what -Cromwell gave, if it can be proved that the recipients -were accessories to Charles's death."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And our father commanded a regiment of horse -at Whitehall on the very day of the king's -execution," said Ann, looking up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know it," answered Reginald. "It was his -duty; he was under orders. If this knowledge comes -to the king's ears, then his command, probably his -estates, will be taken from him and he will be brought -to trial."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is what troubles him, then," said Ann.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is enough to trouble any man," answered -Reginald. "You see, he is trying to serve two -masters, which never answers, in this world or the -next."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What would you have him do?" asked Ann, aghast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do! There is nothing to do," said Reginald, -"until the bomb bursts; then, if there is still time -and he can escape out of England, his life may be -spared, but his estates will be forfeited, and Newbolt -Manor will pass into other hands. A case of pure -bartering," he added. "His majesty will rob Paul -to pay Peter; it has ever been the same."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can nothing be done?" asked Ann. "I do not -care for the loss of Newbolt Manor, but I care for -our father and our mother; it will break their hearts."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see nothing for it but to wait," said Reginald. -"It is not likely that our father will be passed over; -indeed, I am not sure myself that I shall not come in -for a certain amount of opprobrium."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They cannot touch you, you were only a child," -said Ann.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, they cannot touch me. I am in the king's -service, and I did him homage before he came to the -throne; but still there are so many with better claims -seeking advancement, it is difficult for me to hold my -own."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even while they were speaking there was a sound -of many steps outside in the street and in the hall, -and a porter came in in haste.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir," he said, "there are men here asking for -the master in the king's name!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann's face turned deathly white.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So soon!" she exclaimed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The sooner the better," Reginald answered; "it -will be the quicker over."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My father is not here," he said, going into the -hall and addressing the men. "I do not know even -if he is in the house. You had better assure -yourselves of this; but first let me see your order."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The commander of the company handed him a -sheet of parchment. The colour mounted to the -young man's face as he read the order of his -father's arrest, "to answer certain questions as to -his having been treasonably concerned in the late -king's death".</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 58%" id="figure-42"> -<span id="the-commander-of-the-company-handed-him-a-sheet-of-parchment"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""THE COMMANDER OF THE COMPANY HANDED HIM A SHEET OF PARCHMENT"" src="images/img-080.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"THE COMMANDER OF THE COMPANY HANDED HIM A SHEET OF PARCHMENT"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann had followed him. He bent his head and -whispered to her:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go to our mother, but do not tell her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was trying to slip away, but she found her -passage barred by the officer in command of the -company.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I regret it, madam," he said; "but I cannot let -you pass until the house has been searched and we -are assured the colonel is not here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never told you he was not here," said Reginald. -"I bade you search for him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he uttered these words, a door at the farther -end of the hall opened, and the colonel came forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you require of me?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before anyone could answer, Reginald handed him -the paper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is well," he said; "I have expected this. I -did not tell your mother nor you, children, because -I would not have you needlessly anxious; now it has -come to pass, I leave your mother to your care, -Reginald. Deal gently with her. Nay, weep not, -Ann. You are a soldier's daughter; it is not -seemly." Notwithstanding his rough words, he took her in his -arms and kissed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He shook Reginald by the hand, then saying:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gentlemen, I am ready for you," passed out of -the hall, and, mounting the horse that was waiting -for him, rode away surrounded by a guard of soldiers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann and Reginald remained alone with the -frightened servants, who crowded around them. In -a few words Reginald told them what had happened, -adding, "I do not think there is any danger for my -father's life; but that he will suffer imprisonment -and be heavily fined is probable. I would entreat -of you all to keep quiet, and in public not to make -more ado than you can help."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reginald was a great favourite in the household; -he was young and generous, and they served him -willingly. So with a loud voice they all promised -obedience, adding also their hope that their master -would soon be amongst them again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not think there is the least fear but that he -will," Reginald said assuringly, and so they -dispersed, and Reginald and Ann remained alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann was very pale, but she was not trembling. -She had a courageous heart, and was at the present -moment thinking more of her mother than of her -father. She knew full well that her mother had -always been averse from her husband joining the -present king's cause, and she felt sure now that she -would call this a just retribution; but she would not -take it the less to heart, for under a cold exterior she -had loved her husband dearly, and served him as a -true and honourable wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whilst the two stood hesitating, the door opened -and Patience and Agnes entered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's happened?" asked Agnes. "We saw a -troop of soldiers riding away; the street was full of -them. They seemed to have a prisoner in their -midst; we could not see who it was."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was my father," said Reginald. "He has -been arrested for consenting to the late king's -death."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May the Lord help him!" said Patience. "Has -there not been bloodshed enough already, that they -must be ever seeking for more!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not think it is a case of blood," said -Reginald, with something approaching a sneer in his -voice. "I think money will settle this;" and the -words and manner of the young man revealed a -bitterness which had been growing in his heart for -some time past. He and Ann had been so eager for -King Charles to come back, they had welcomed him -with such unfeigned joy, such belief that he would -bring back all that was noble, all the greatness, the -courage, and the bravery, the high moral tone which -had been his father's, that whatever errors there had -been in the past would cease now, indeed were -already forgotten. Had not the whole race of Stuarts -been chastised? Had not the whole nation suffered? -And therefore they welcomed the king back as their -chief good. The crown was his by Right Divine and -by the will of the people. He had come back, and -made merry, but he had no thought of forgiveness -in his soul, only a fierce desire for vengeance against -those who had slain his father and sent him into -exile. That father had been a saint, and they slew -him. The son was a great sinner, and they bowed -down before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reginald thought, and others thought with him, of -all the blood that had been shed. They had hoped -that a great pardon would have sealed that -homecoming, instead of which it was vengeance and blood; -whilst in the very palace where they had witnessed -the death of Charles I, there was revelry and evil -living, and an ignoring of all sacred things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their idol was broken, and their ideals had faded -into nothingness. For the young this is a terrible -experience: it cuts them to the heart, it wounds -them to the soul. As men and women grow older -they become accustomed to the daily and hourly -disappointments of life. The shadow of death has -passed over them, the lights have gone out; either -they have grown hard and self-contained, or they -have learnt to look beyond this world and patiently -abide in faith, hope, and charity, until they shall pass -into the kingdom of everlasting life. But the lesson -has to be learnt, the road has to be trodden, and -the pricks hurt their feet. The nobler the girl or -the youth, the harder it is for them to lose their -ideals.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reginald was passing through this phase. He had -built so much on this home-coming of his king, he -had thought of him almost as a god, from his youth -upwards; the son of that blessed saint and martyr, -how should he be less than a hero! The disillusion -was great, the sorrow was greater. Had he been of -a less sensitive, a less noble nature himself, he would -have thrown all care to the wind, have joined the -revellers, and been content to lead the wild life of -the young Cavaliers who had returned with Charles -from foreign lands, and who now thought of little -else but of making up for the years which had been -passed in poverty and exile. Those lean years had -taught them no lesson of frugality or decorum; rather -they had made them impatient of restraint, desirous -of making up in folly and extravagances for the years -they called wasted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Truly they were wasted, for they had brought -forth no fruit. The lesson God would have taught -to the race of Stuarts and their adherents had been of -no avail. These men were like the Israelites of old, -they had neither ears to hear nor eyes to see, and the -few faithful ones, who loyally in England had waited -for and prayed for their coming, were now sick at -heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet Reginald had no thought of throwing up his -allegiance; it was based on too good a foundation--his -God and his king. He could not serve one and -forsake the other, and so, though his heart was sore -within him, and he felt that dark days were coming -both for him and his, as a brave man he looked -straight before him, trusting in a higher power than -his own to deliver them from evil.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="arrested"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Arrested</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was Patience who sought Mistress Newbolt in her -chamber and told her in a few words what had -happened. It was even with her as her children had -thought it would be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is the Lord's justice," she said. "His will be -done." She straightened herself, went down to her -household, and rebuked Ann when she wept.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall not the Lord chastise His children?" she -said. "Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth. Indeed, -I am well pleased that our God careth for us so -well that He does chastise us; for, seeing we were so -prosperous, I feared He held us to be of no account, -but now I am exalted, and my spirit is glad within -me, for the Lord has laid His hand on my house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This enthusiasm was wonderful; her face, which -before had been sad, shone now with an inner light -of satisfaction. She went about her duties with an -energy and a briskness which had long failed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The maid-servants exclaimed, "The mistress is of -cheerful countenance; is it seemly that she should -rejoice over the master's misfortune?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If she divined their thoughts she paid no heed to -them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor ignorant souls, they cannot understand," -she said to Patience, who, to tell the truth, herself -did not understand why the wife should rejoice when -her husband was sent to prison and was in danger of -his life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She remembered how sorely she had grieved over -the misfortunes which had befallen the royal -standard, and how she had mourned for those who were -then laid low.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not natural," she said to Agnes; "we must -accept the will of the Lord, but we are not bound to -rejoice when He afflicts us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reginald had left the house almost immediately -after his father's departure, to find out where he had -been taken to and what could be done to further his -release, so Agnes and Patience remained with Ann -and cheered her as best they could. Mistress Newbolt -needed no cheering; she busied herself arranging her -husband's clothes, packing them to send to his prison, -wherever that might be, and she employed the maids -in taking off the lace ruffles from his shirts, replacing -them with plain linen ones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He shall not appear before his judges like a -popinjay," she said, "but like a sober, righteous man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother, you are wrong," said Ann. "He is a -king's man now, and is serving the king. Why will -you try to show forth to the world that he was ever -aught else?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because it is my duty, my joy," she answered, -and she would not be gainsaid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not trouble," said Patience to Ann. "Let her -have her own way. You can easily supplement what -is lacking."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The day seemed long to them all except to Mistress -Newbolt, whose pale face had a red spot on either -cheek from the excitement of her heart. Her muslin -kerchief was crumpled, a thing Ann had never seen -before, and her hands trembled as she went about -her work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once Agnes crept on tiptoe to the small closet -which Mistress Newbolt called her own, where she -was wont to read and pray. Opening the door -gently she looked in. The window was wide open, -and Mistress Newbolt stood before it grazing up into -the sky, which was dark, threatening rain; but -sunshine or rain, storm or clouds, were naught to her, -her soul had soared beyond these earthly signs of -fair weather or foul. Her hands were clasped, her -face was turned upwards as if she saw a vision, and -from her lips a quick flow of words poured forth so -rapidly that Agnes had difficulty in following them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was more conversation than prayer, as if she -were speaking to the Almighty as to a familiar -friend, thanking Him for having thus cast His eye -upon them, and chastening her husband for his sin. -She prayed also for Reginald and Ann, that they -might be reclaimed and brought back into the true -fold. Then came an impassioned act of worship:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glory be to Thee, oh Lord Most High!" and so on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes stood transfixed. She had never heard the -like before. It moved her as if a great wave had -swept over her. She listened, drinking in the words -with wonder and astonishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It must be even as the prophets of old spoke," -she thought. "I wonder if she is right and we all -wrong;" and even as she was thus thinking Mistress -Newbolt turned round, saw her, came quickly, took -her in her arms, and almost carried her to the open -window, crying in exultation:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord, behold this child! Make her Thine; teach -her Thy ways; make her worship Thee, the only true -God, in truth and equity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So tight were her arms wound round her that Agnes -could not move. She held her as if she would have -almost carried her up to heaven in her exultation. -Looking into her face it struck Agnes as strangely -beautiful; she had never seen it thus before. Her -eyes were as coals of fire; the lips parted as the -impassioned words dropped from them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly the woman collapsed. She loosened her -hold of Agnes, staggered, and would have fallen had -not the girl upheld her; but she threw her off, and, -casting herself on the ground, broke forth into fierce -weeping. The bands of iron which had bound her -soul gave way and she could only cry:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Save me, oh God, save me, for Thy mercy's sake!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With that delicate instinct which is inherent in some -souls, Agnes felt that this was no place for her, that -she had no right to look upon the weakness of this -strong woman, and quietly, with tears pouring down -her face, she left the room, closing the door behind -her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She paused for a moment on the landing, then, -descending the stairs, found her way into the little -sitting-room, where Ann and Patience were waiting -for her. The discomposure of her face revealed to -them at once that something unusual had happened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you seen my mother?" asked Ann, coming -forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it is too terrible, too terrible!" said Agnes, -her tears bursting forth again, and, letting herself -fall on the settle beside Patience, she clung to her -for protection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What has happened, dear? tell me," said Patience -softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing has happened," was the quiet answer, -"but her grief is terrible to see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will go to her," said Ann, rising.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is of no use," said Agnes, standing before her; -"let her be. Her soul is wrestling with the Lord; -she wants no human help; we do not understand her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know what you mean," said Ann, "I have -seen her in that state before. When my father -declared that he would welcome King Charles and -join himself to the royal cause, she was three days -and nights shut up in her own room and would see -no one; she would eat nothing but bread and water, -and we heard her pacing up and down, talking to -herself, apostrophizing the Almighty, praying aloud. -Sometimes she would sing psalms or hymns. As I -tell you, she remained three days in this state, and -then she came forth haggard and thin, but quite -calm. 'I have left it in God's hands,' she said; -'what He doeth will be well done.' Go home, dear -friend," Ann continued. "You can give us no help, -we must await events. I do not think my father's -life is in danger, but how long he will be deprived of -liberty, what his punishment will be, we cannot tell -until his trial, and that may be retarded for many -months. We were going to Newbolt Manor for a -few weeks. Now, of course, we must remain here. -I am sorry, because my mother's health suffers from -the confinement in London, but I know nothing will -move her hence so long as my father is in prison."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course not," said Patience. "We shall also -remain in town for the present. The king has gone -with his court to Hampton, and I do not care to be -there when that is the case, for there is no peace--the -gardens are full of gallants and fine ladies--so we -will remain at Somerset House until the king returns -to town."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am glad of it," said Ann; "it is a comfort to -feel that you are near me. We have many -acquaintances, but few friends."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must count us as friends," said Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will gladly do so," answered Ann. "I feel as -if I have known you all my life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Therefore, if you have any fear, send for us," -said Patience. "Now we will bid you farewell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The distance between the Newbolts' house in -Drury Lane and Somerset House could be traversed -in a few minutes, but nevertheless the streets were -by no means pleasant for women to walk through -alone, therefore Patience and Agnes had come in -sedan-chairs, which were waiting in the courtyard. -These were now brought forward into the house, as -was the custom, and, taking a tender adieu of Ann, -they got in and were carried out. Agnes drew the -curtain on one side, waved a last adieu, and then -Ann turned away and went up to the first story, -where was her mother's apartment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was sad at heart, and felt at a loss as to how -she should comfort her, for she knew full well that -there was no disguising the fact that her father had -been a prominent man under Cromwell, also that he -had commanded a body of horse at the late king's -execution. One thing alone was in his favour: his -name was not on the list of those who had voted for -the king's death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was late at night when Reginald returned. He -had no good news. His father, he had ascertained, -was in Newgate, but he had not been able to gain -access to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I fear much," he said, "that there is a traitor -somewhere, for why have we been thus suddenly -attacked? The king was quite aware from the first -that my father was a Parliamentarian; the only thing -he did not know was that he was present at the late -king's death. It is upon this charge that my father -has been arrested. We cannot clear him; it is quite -hopeless; we can only trust to the king's clemency, -and that," he continued, "is of no great account. I -am much afraid that I shall be obliged to resign my -commission, and thus, though I am blameless, I must -suffer, and the king will lose a good servant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think he will be arraigned for treason?" -asked Ann.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, that he cannot be," was the answer, "seeing -that he was only captain at that time of a body of -horse. He obeyed orders, and he kept the street -clear in the precincts of Whitehall, but he was not -actually on the spot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And though he has never allowed that it was -so," said Ann, "in his heart I believe he grieved -that the execution was carried out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His refraining from giving his vote was a proof -of it," said Reginald. "Where is our mother?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In her own apartment," said Ann. "It is no use -your trying to go to her; she will see no one. Agnes -was with her, and I think she frightened the child; -she has been very much excited all day. Martha -tells me she has gone to bed, which is proof that she -has worn herself out. She may be more composed -to-morrow. You see, she considers our father's -arrest a retribution."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And she may not be quite wrong," said Reginald. -"If he had only voted against instead of -keeping silent, he would have been not only safe -from molestation, but honourably revered."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That he could not do," said Ann. "I have -heard him say that though he disapproved of the -king's execution, he did not see how otherwise order -and justice were to be restored, or the Civil War -ended."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The whole thing is ineffably sad," said Reginald; -"it is too late in the day now to discuss the -pros and cons. Go to bed, Ann, and sleep; you will -need all your strength and courage to face the next -few months." And so they bade each other good-night -and parted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So worn out was Ann that her head was no sooner -on the pillow than she slept; but Reginald sat till -an unusually late hour in the house-parlour thinking -matters over and trying to find out who could have -betrayed his father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rose at last, and stretched himself, muttering, -"It is folly and to no purpose my seeking to find the -man; there are so many witnesses of my father's -presence at Whitehall. We must abide by the -results; but I will see Sir Nicholas Crisp to-morrow, -he has always been kindly disposed towards me, and -stands high in the king's esteem. He may perchance -speak a word in my father's favour." With this he -also retired to his chamber to await the events of the -morrow.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="old-newgate"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Old Newgate</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We have all read, and we all know by hearsay, how, -till within the last century, the prisons were worse -than the lowest hovels. We know and honour the -men and women by whose influence humanity was -brought to bear upon them. What they must have -been two centuries earlier passes all imagination.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We learn from old chronicles that as far back as -1218 the prison of Newgate existed. It was built in -the portal of the new gate of the city, and from that -fact took its name. Two centuries later it was rebuilt -by the executors of the famous Sir Richard Whittington, -Lord Mayor of London, and his statue with his -cat stood in a niche. This building was destroyed in -the great fire of which we shall soon be telling. It -was here, in old Newgate, that Colonel Newbolt was -imprisoned--a noisome place, within high, dark, stone -walls, without windows, where the prisoners were -crowded together irrespective of age or sex. At the -time we are writing of, it was crowded to excess. -To obtain a wisp of straw to lie upon at night, and -the space necessary for a litter, meant a hand-to-hand -fight between the occupants.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The jailers reaped a rich harvest, charging -fabulous prices for the merest necessaries. There was -no provision made for sickness, not even for the -ordinary decencies of life; men and women of every -class were herded together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is easy to imagine Colonel Newbolt's feelings -when he was thrust into this den. On the first day -he bore it with a certain amount of equanimity, -feeling assured that he would be released on the -morrow; but when two or three days passed by, and -all the money he had on his person was expended, he -was seriously disquieted, wondering why Reginald -or some other of his friends did not come to his -rescue. He could not know that Reginald had been -daily at the prison, and had expended a considerable -sum of money in pleading with the jailers for news -of his father. He was dismissed with the assurance -that his father's name was not on the prison list; -they could not find the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This answer was given purposely. It would not -have suited the jailers to find their man too soon, for -then the enquiry money would cease to fall into their -pockets, so they sent Reginald to Aldersgate and -to smaller jails, of which there were several. Four -days had elapsed after his father's arrest before -Reginald was admitted into the prison and allowed -to interview him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was horrified when he saw him. From a hale, -fine-looking soldier he had dwindled into an old man, -with sunken eyes and haggard face. His lace ruffles -and jabot had been torn to shreds. He had had no -change of linen, the lappets of his coat had been -wrenched away, his head was bare, and his hair -bleached.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He staggered as he came into the guard-room, -and in his impotent rage shook his fist in Reginald's -face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean, sirrah," he cried, "by -leaving me in this condition?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father, I did not leave you," said Reginald, -tears gathering in his eyes. "I have been here -daily, and could get no news of you. They have -sent me about to the right and to the left; only -to-day have I found you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The rascals!" said the colonel in a low voice, -fearful of being overheard. "I am starved, Reginald," -he continued, "I am unclean. I would sooner die -than remain thus; ay, they will kill me before they -bring me to trial. Is this what the king promised us? -Is this the royal clemency?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush, Father, hush!" said Reginald, for in his -excitement he had raised his voice. "I have brought -gold; I will see what I can do for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked round, and seeing a keeper whose face -seemed less evil than the others, he beckoned to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Slowly and sullenly the man came forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here!" said Reginald, "if you can find the -smallest cell in which my father can be alone I will -give you fifty crowns."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you offered me a hundred I couldn't do it," -said the man; "the place is crowded from top to -bottom, and more prisoners are coming in every -hour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But surely there must be some place less horrible -than the one I am now in," said Colonel Newbolt. -"I am herded with the scum of the earth. I hear -nothing but cursing and swearing all the live-long day -and throughout the night. I am covered with vermin. -I will give thee a hundred crowns, sirrah, if -thou wilt get me out of this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man thrust his hands into his pockets. A -hundred crowns was an offer he did not often get.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sick, sick unto death," continued the -colonel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I will report you to the head keeper," said -the man quickly, "and he will report you to the -governor, and he will--I don't know what he'll think -proper to do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the meantime must I go back to that hell?" -said the colonel. "Give me a knife and let me cut -my throat!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We don't have that sort of thing done here," -answered the jailer; "we keep no knives and no -ropes inside the jail."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen!" said Reginald. "Surely there must be -some place, some cell in which there are three or -four privileged prisoners, where you could manage -to put my father until I take measures for his -removal. Go at once and speak to the head jailer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Saying this, Reginald put money into the man's -hand. "Not a groat more do you get," he said, "if -you do not succeed, but I will double it if you do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned away, and, taking his father by the arm, -succeeded in finding a seat in a far corner of the -room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"See, Father, I have brought you food!" he said. -He cut the strings of a basket which he had been -carrying and drew forth a pasty, some white bread, -and a flask of brandy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The prisoner flew at the brandy. Reginald was -forced to stop him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gently, Father, gently," he said, "you will make -yourself ill; there is no hurry." And he handed him -bread and meat, which he ate ravenously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The keepers, noting that the young man wore the -king's uniform, and that the old man, even in his -soiled clothes, had an air of distinction, let them be. -Besides, Reginald was generous with his money; he -knew there was no other means by which to gain a -little respite.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When his father had eaten and drunk, more -perhaps than was good for him, he laid his head back -on the wall and went to sleep. Reginald kept watch -over him. Once or twice the keepers came up and -would have roused him and sent him back to the -common prison, but Reginald pleaded:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let him be a little longer," he said; "I am waiting -for a message from the governor." Again money -passed from hand to hand, and they were let alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not till the day was far advanced did the first -keeper return.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The governor will see you," he said; "follow me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reginald looked at his father. If he roused him -now would he be sensible?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father!" he said, bending over him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The colonel started and opened his eyes, but his -mind seemed to be wandering. He stood up, gave -the word of command, as if he had been on parade, -then, looking round him, he said: "Where am I? -What does it mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is in delirium," said Reginald in a low voice -to the keeper. "Take hold of him on one side and -I will take him on the other; the governor can judge -for himself." So they crossed the room, the old man -muttering and talking to himself, until they came to -the governor's room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To Reginald's surprise, he proved to be an old -friend of his father's, who, however, had kept fairly -quiet, and had not been in any way offensive either to -the Commonwealth or to the king's Government. It -was not in his power to remedy the state of the -prison, and he had no thought of attempting to do -so. A prison was a prison in those days. Prisoners, -if refractory, were chained up like wild beasts and -kept on bread and water. They lived or died, as the -case might be; some went under at once, others, -thanks to stronger constitutions, managed to survive, -until they were dragged on hurdles to execution, or -by some lucky chance found their way out of that -prison-house, brutalized, hating both God and man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the governor, looking up, saw Reginald and -his father, he said shortly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When I heard your name, I wondered what -Newbolt it was. How happens it that your father -has let himself fall into this strait? I thought he -was a cleverer man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There must be a traitor somewhere," said -Reginald. "My father has taken the oath of -allegiance; he went with General Monk to meet the -king on his return. I, who have never drawn -sword in any other cause, hold a commission from -the king in his own Guards. But some traitor has -informed his majesty of what, alas! is only too -true, that my father was captain of a body of -troops who kept the streets at the time of the -execution of his most gracious majesty, Charles -I--hence his arrest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, that is compromising!" said the governor. -"Do you know who the informant was?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I do not," answered Reginald, "but I will -make it my business to find out. There is no -denying the fact that my father was on duty that -day. He was arrested four days ago, and see what -it has made of him! He was a strong, hale man -when he came here. I ask your clemency for him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a common case," said the governor. -"The class of men to which your father belongs -cannot stand this place. I will do what I can. He -has caught jail fever. Put him in yonder chair."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The keeper and Reginald obeyed, the old man -talking and jabbering all the time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reginald stood before the governor, who continued: -"You see, we cannot put him back into the -public room, and there is not a free cell. You may -believe me or not as you choose, the prison is literally -swarming. Knight," he said, addressing the keeper, -"is there any hole you can give the colonel to lie in -until I can get him removed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is the cell at the end of the right-hand -corridor, where that madman was confined; he died -yesterday. His body was thrown out to-day, but the -cell has not been cleaned yet; it is not fit to put even -a dog into."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let it be done immediately," said the governor. -"Let fresh straw be laid down and the colonel -carried thither. I give him into your hands, -Knight. I think you will find it worth your while -to treat him well," he added, with a glance at -Reginald.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have promised him a hundred crowns; I do -not care if I make it two hundred," answered the -young man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir," said Knight, "I thank you. May I leave -the gentleman here whilst I see to the cleaning of -that dog's kennel?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The governor nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Worn out, the colonel's head fell on his breast; -he was in a sort of coma.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll write a letter," said the governor, "which -you may take to the Secretary of State, or, if you -prefer it, to the king himself. If you can get an -audience, that might be better. If your father is -really to be prosecuted, he must be removed from -this prison to Aldersgate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not think he will be removed anywhere -except fro his last resting-place," said Reginald.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tut, tut! men do not die so easily," said the -governor. "That is our strong point. I will represent -that if the colonel is left here he will certainly -die, and then who would pay the fine, which will be -the least thing imposed upon him? The king's -exchequer, they say, is empty, and there is nothing -to be got out of a dead dog; therefore, you see, it -is to their interest to keep him alive. Rest assured -they will nurse him with the utmost tenderness, so -that, if he be hanged, he may be hanged alive, and -his lands forfeited to the crown. If he dies now, -you will inherit; you have committed no misdemeanour. -On the contrary, you are the king's man, -and they cannot, in all decency, prosecute you. Do -you understand?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I understand," said Reginald, with evident -disgust. "Write the letter for me, sir, and I will -carry it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The governor scrawled a few lines, folded it, and -gave it to Reginald.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think you will find that serve your purpose," he -said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May I send clean linen and clothes for my -father?" asked Reginald. "He cannot remain as he is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should advise you to send nothing, but to -bring everything," said the governor; "otherwise -I greatly fear he will not benefit much. This is a -den of thieves and robbers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reginald hesitated for a moment, then he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And my mother! When she knows I have found -my father, nothing will keep her away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The governor shrugged his shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you must bring her, that is all," he said. -"Knight will let you in the back way. Your father -will not be so bad to look at when he is in his new -cell. Now you must be gone; I have given you -more time, young man, than I have favoured anyone -with for months. Look through that window in the -wall and you will see the crowd waiting to interview me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am more than grateful to you, sir," said Reginald.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, all right!" answered the governor, -holding out his hand. "We will try to pull him -through; not that it will be easy, I warn you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I fear not," answered Reginald; "nevertheless -I thank you, sir," and, bowing to the governor, he -turned round to where his father still sat in a deep, -heavy slumber: his face was crimson, his hands, as -Reginald felt them, were burning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have cleaned the place up as best I could, sir. -Shall we take him there at once?" said Knight, -coming up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Reginald shortly; and between them -they carried the colonel down two or three long -passages, lined on either side with cells. At the -very end there was an open door, showing a cell of -about eight feet square. Upon the ground in one -corner was a heap of straw, which, with a table -and a chair, both riveted to the wall, and a basin, -completed the furniture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I found this here thing in the corner of the -public room where the gentleman has been lying. -I don't know how it has escaped the eyes of his -late companions, but it has. I got it and brought it -here. He will want it," said Knight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reginald recognized his father's cloak, so they -wrapped him up in it and laid him in the straw -which was strewn on the damp floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, man," said Reginald, "I must go. -I have pressing business. Here are the hundred -crowns I promised you, and for every week he -stays here and you care for him decently, you shall -have as much again. I shall be back in a couple -of hours with sheets and bedding, and all that is -necessary for his comfort. You must fetch the -doctor, and whatever he orders that you must provide."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very good, sir, I understand," said Knight. -"But I have other duties, you know; I cannot -be always here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pass them over to someone else. I'll pay, as -paying is the order of the day. Do you agree?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should be a fool not to," answered Knight. -"I'll see to the old man; you shall have nothing -to complain of." And with that half-promise -Reginald was obliged to be satisfied. With one more -look at his father he went out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Knight followed him, closing and locking the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will lose your way unless I take you out," -he said to Reginald. "You had better not come in -at the front gate in future."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So saying he guided him into a small courtyard, -which was evidently seldom used. In it was a huge -mastiff, which walked to and fro, snarling and -growling. He sprang forward to meet the two men, and -would have flown at Reginald if Knight had not -caught him by the collar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Speak to him, caress him, then in future he -will never hurt you," he said. "When you come -back, bring him food; you must be friends."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reginald had a great liking for all animals. He -spoke to the mastiff, which, after a few minutes' -inspection, sniffed around, and suffered him to stroke -him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all right," said Knight, satisfied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Taking a key off a bunch at his side he opened -a side gate, and Reginald passed out into the street -opposite the Old Bailey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have only to ring that bell when you return," -he said, pointing to a long iron chain by the -door. "I shall answer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reginald nodded, and went forth with a heavy -heart, feeling as if years had passed over his head -since he penetrated within the mighty walls which -separated the prison of Newgate and its inmates -from the outside world.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-legend"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">A Legend</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When Reginald returned to his mother he found her -waiting impatiently for him; indeed, she had done so -for the last three days. Her whole time had been -spent between prayer and waiting, seated in the -window with her hands folded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the morning she attended to her household -duties--she forgot nothing. It was with difficulty -that they could get her to take any food; she seemed -to have no need of it. Now, when she saw Reginald -coming up the street, she said to Ann:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has news--he has found your father." And -she went to the door to meet him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I have found him," said Reginald; "but -you must not rejoice too soon, Mother, for he is in -a terrible condition."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dying?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot say, for I do not know," answered -Reginald. "He is very ill--his sufferings have been -great, and he is now delirious. I saw the governor, -and he had him removed to a cell by himself. He -is in want of everything. There are no rules to -prevent our taking anything we choose to him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I may go to him?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, you may go to him, but Ann must not," -said Reginald; "the place reeks of fever, small-pox, -and every other disease. You must be prepared for -the worst, Mother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whatever the Lord orders is for the best," she -answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what is to become of Ann? She cannot -remain in this house alone," said Reginald.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take her to Patience," said Mistress Newbolt. -"She can abide with her all day, and at night when -I return you can fetch her--if I do return."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At sunset you must leave the prison, Mother; it -is the rule."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well," said Mistress Newbolt, "I will abide -by the rule. Now order a coach; I have everything -ready."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am afraid not everything," said Reginald. -"He lacks bedding, sheets, the veriest necessaries. -I left him lying on straw in a damp cell. I will order -a cart to come round to take the larger luggage, but -you must go in a coach."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can walk if necessary," said Mistress Newbolt; -"it is no great distance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two hours were spent putting things together, -providing food, broths, and jellies. Ann went about -with her mother, thinking of everything. When all -was ready and the coach was called, she said to -Reginald:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall I not be allowed to go?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, it is not a fit place for you," said Reginald; -"and you would do no good. I don't know when I -shall return myself, therefore you had better get your -women to take you to Somerset House. You can -tell them how matters stand, and I shall probably -fetch you at nightfall, or when my mother comes back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whilst they were still conversing, Mr. Delarry -came up. It was by no means the first time he had -come to the house--indeed, he and Reginald were -very good friends, and he would frequently drop in -to supper--but he had been away with the king at -Hampton Court, and had only just heard of the -colonel's arrest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am deeply grieved for you," he said, "and I -hastened here to tell you so. Is there anything I can -do for you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing at present," said Reginald. "I have -been three days finding my father, and now he is -sick unto death; I do not know whether he will live. -I am taking my mother to him. I have no time to -say more, so farewell!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mistress Newbolt appeared on the steps, and -Reginald hastened to help her into the coach. Many -of the servants had followed her, and were weeping. -Although she was a stern mistress, she was a just -one, and they all respected her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Delarry," said Reginald, before following his -mother into the coach, "will you see my sister to -Somerset House? She cannot stay here alone, and -neither my mother nor myself can be back before -nightfall."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If she will allow me to do so, I shall esteem it a -favour," said Delarry. "And, Reginald, let me know -if I can be of any use to you; I am at your service."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Many thanks!" said Reginald. "It is something -to feel that one has a friend in these hard -times." The two young men shook hands, Reginald took -his place beside his mother, and they drove away. -Ann went slowly back to the house, Delarry -following her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall you go at once to Somerset House?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In about an hour," she answered. "I must put -my mother's room in order, and attend to a few -household duties. But do not let me detain you; my -own woman will accompany me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You would not grieve me thus?" said Delarry. -"I esteem it a high honour to have been asked to -take care of you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well," said Ann, "come back in an hour, -and I will be ready."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did so, and accompanied her the short distance -from Drury Lane to Somerset House. They made -no haste, for they liked each other's society.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they reached Somerset House they found -Patience and Agnes on the terrace taking their -mid-day airing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We did not venture to come to your house," said -Patience, after greeting Ann and her companion, -"for fear of disturbing your mother. We felt -sure if you had news that you would send us word."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have news," said Ann, "but it is of such an -evil kind that the telling of it is grievous to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Still we must hear it," said Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They sat down on the bench facing the river, and -there Ann told them all she knew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a very terrible state of affairs," said Delarry, -looking serious; but he did not venture to say how -serious he thought it, for he knew full well that the -king was still very bitter against anyone who had -had a hand in his father's murder. Nevertheless he -tried to speak cheerfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It will be better," he said, "for Reginald to go -to the king himself. He is rather partial to the young -man; indeed, only the other day he asked why he -was not in attendance. He then learnt of the arrest -of Colonel Newbolt, and expressed his regret that -the son should have to suffer for the father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann coloured. "That means that Reginald will -have to resign his commission," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am afraid so," answered Delarry. "It would -hardly do, when his father is imprisoned for -connivance with the regicides, for him to remain in the -king's service. But we cannot tell. Charles is a -strange character; he may not choose to accept your -brother's resignation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was not Colonel Newbolt's fault that he was -on duty on that day at that place," said Agnes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Delarry, "that was a coincidence, but -still the fact is there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't let us talk about it," said Ann; "it will -not mend matters."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My friend is right," said Agnes. "We will talk -of other things. Is there any news from France, -Mr. Delarry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, the king heard from her majesty the -queen no later than yesterday. The marriage of -the duke and the princess is to be the occasion of -great festivities; it is to be conducted with royal -state. The King of France is making much of the -bride."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish I were in Paris," said Agnes; "I know -just how it will all be. I think I like Paris better -than London."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh no, you don't!" said Ann. "You must not. -You are an English girl, and must love your own -country best."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So she will in years to come," said Patience. -"There is so much in habit. She has always lived -in France. The sun shines more brightly there, and -the days are longer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And people are less stiff, and they are kinder and -more courteous," said Agnes. "You English are -so cold! I have lived a long time here now, and -I have only one friend--that is you, Ann."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And is it not a grand thing to </span><em class="italics">have one friend</em><span>?" -said Mr. Delarry. "We may have many acquaintances, -little lady, but a friend is a rare gem."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having said this, Mr. Delarry rose and took his -leave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patience and the two girls went up to their own -apartment, and occupied themselves at that fine -tapestry work at which Agnes, like all French ladies, -was an adept. Ann was not so clever with her -needle, but she loved to watch her friend, whose -proficiency was astonishing; the flowers, the birds, -the figures, seemed to grow under her fingers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish I could work as you do," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I love it," answered Agnes; "it makes me -forget. When I have any trouble or any vexation I -come to my framework and create a bird, or a flower. -Sometimes I dream dreams. It does not matter -what I do, but I grow quieter and happier."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are a town girl, and I am a country girl," -said Ann. "I have lived all my life in the open, in -the midst of the flowers and the birds, with my dogs -and horses, riding and hunting with Reginald and my -father over miles of moorland. Oh, it is glorious! -Would you not love it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes looked up. "Love it? Indeed I am sure -I should!" she answered. "Patience said just now -we grow accustomed to things; that is true. I was -accustomed to the great dark rooms at the Louvre, -and the long dull days; but sometimes, I remember, -I used to feel suffocated, as if I were a bird beating -against the bars of the cage. I used to look up -through the windows at the sky, and long--oh, how -I used to long!--to have wings to fly away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And yet you say you like France better than -England," said Ann.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew of nothing better," said Agnes. "I loved -the queen and I loved Henrietta, but still I have -always known that it was not my own life, that there -must be something better! We used to go to -Fontainebleau sometimes, but we children never went -beyond the edge of the wood. We were allowed to -wander in the great gardens, which were very -beautiful, with long avenues of trees and a big -pond full of tame carp, which came when we called -them, and which we used to feed. It was a great -pleasure, but still it was not liberty. I longed for -liberty, to ride, to walk, as the desire might come -to me. Ah, you are very happy!" she said to Ann. -"Tell me about that place up north of which you -speak so often."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Newbolt Manor?" answered Ann. "It is the -most beautiful place in the world. Long, long ago -it was a monastery, and belonged to a religious -order. There are the ruins of the most lovely chapel -you ever saw; and although the house has been -restored and rebuilt, there are still parts of it which -belong to the old days--the great hall, the refectory, -and the library. They are very beautiful, with much -carved oak and many stained-glass windows."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And it belonged to the De Lisles!" said Agnes -thoughtfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," answered her companion, "and there is a -long picture-gallery containing portraits of the family -of De Lisles; and now I come to think of it, Agnes, -there is one picture of a child who lived a long time -ago--oh! a hundred years ago, perhaps. You are -exactly like her; is it not strange?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very," said Agnes. "Go on and tell me more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Ann, "the story is that when the -monks were driven out, King Henry VIII gave it to -a certain Reginald De Lisle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How did that old man at Greenwich know anything; -about them, I wonder?" said Agnes. "How -did he know the De Lisles?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That I cannot tell," said Ann. "He may have -been an old servant, and have known the legend -that the De Lisles, being possessed of church lands, -would be driven out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It has come true," said Agnes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only to a certain extent," said Ann. "They -were not driven out, they died out; the race is -extinct."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How then can they come back again?" asked -Agnes. "You know he said they would."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! that I cannot tell," answered Ann. "If he -were an old servant of the De Lisles, the wish might -very possibly be father to the thought."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But," said Agnes thoughtfully, "supposing it -were a mistake, and that one day a De Lisle should -turn up and claim his own?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not suppose it would make much difference -now," said Ann. "The land is ours as far as lawyers -and parchment can make it so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You would be sorry to lose it," said Agnes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I should," answered Ann. "I love the -place, and I would like to think that Reginald -would have it one day, and that he would marry -and have children; and so it would go down from -generation to generation, a fair heritage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As it was with the De Lisles," said Agnes -thoughtfully. "Ah well!" she added, "it does not -much matter; the world passeth away, and the glory -of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Instinctively the words had come to her lips--how -they did so she knew not--it was the inspiration -of a moment. She had dropped her needle whilst -listening to Ann, and there was a strange, dreamy -look in the great dark eyes as she gazed through the -window up to the sky which overhung the river. -The summer day had come to a close; she could no -longer see to put her stitches into the canvas. A -sense of unreality crept over her, a sort of feeling as -if she had lived in another world once upon a time--she -was, and she was not--a spell seemed laid upon -her. Would she awake and find her present life only -a dream?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patience's voice roused her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ann Newbolt," she said, "a messenger has -come from your brother. Neither he nor your mother -can return to-night. He requests me to keep you -with us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My father is dying, then?" said Ann.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The messenger does not say so," answered -Patience, "merely that they cannot leave the prison."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-brave-woman"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">A Brave Woman</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Sooner or later we all find a place which fits us in -the world, and when Mistress Newbolt crossed the -threshold of Newgate to take charge of her husband, -unwittingly, even to herself, she had reached her -bourne. She did not know it, she did not realize -it till long after; but her work had found her, and -she was not one of those who, having put her hand -to the plough, would turn back again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An ordinary woman would have shrunk from the -misery which surrounded her, but she never did. All -the sorrow, the discontent, which so often troubled -her, ceased to be as she stood beside her husband -in that narrow cell. With strong hands, helped by -Reginald, she arranged his bed; she spoke to him, -she comforted him; even in his delirium he knew her -and clung to her. That he was desperately ill she -saw at a glance, but even the doctor, a rough, hard -man, when he came to visit him, grew soft in Mistress -Newbolt's presence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madam," he said, "I cannot tell whether he will -live or die. His life is in your hands."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not in mine," said Mistress Newbolt, "but in God's."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We do not hear much of God here," said the -doctor roughly. "It is verily a God-forsaken place; -but your presence is potent, your care may save him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can only stay here a few hours," she answered, -"at least, so I am told. I will do what I can."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You may stay here as long as you choose," said -the doctor. "I will speak to the governor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so it came to pass that Mistress Newbolt was -established at Newgate. That first night her husband -was seized with such violent delirium that it required -two men to hold him down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reginald therefore remained till early morning, -when, exhausted, the patient dropped into a deep -sleep. Then his mother bade him go and rest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have your duties to attend to; you have Ann -to see after," she said. "I am sufficient here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you not be afraid to remain here alone, -Mother?" asked Reginald.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Afraid!" she answered, "of what? Is not God -with me?" And that strangely inspired look came -into her face. "I feel as if my place were here, as -if at last I had found my appointed task. Go, and -do not trouble about me or your father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reginald kissed her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are wonderful, Mother," he said. "I will -return this evening before the prison gates -close." And so he left her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Mistress Newbolt stood in the passage she -heard cries and moans, loud voices, and bitter -plaints.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are those the prisoners?" she asked of Knight, -the jailer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," he answered, "they are hungry dogs -to-day. They declared that the morning allowance -of food was insufficient. There was not a hunch of -bread for each man, and it was sour, not fit to cast -to the dogs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How was it so?" asked Mistress Newbolt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The keeper shrugged his shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can I tell?" he said. "It is bought by -contract. As we get it we give it them. Those who -have no money of their own, and no friends, come -badly off. Your husband is sleeping, will you come -and look at them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mistress Newbolt acquiesced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took her down the passage to a great iron door, -in which there was a sliding panel, not large, but -large enough to allow an outsider to look into the -interior. The keeper drew back the panel, and shrill -voices fell upon her ears, uttering curses and foul -language. She saw men and women with scarce -any semblance of humanity, rather like wild beasts. -Some were tearing at hard crusts of bread, others at -meat of the worst kind; men belaboured the women -and thrust them back, snatching the food out of their -thin hands. And they in their turn clutched at them -and tore their hair, scratching their faces in their -madness. One or two had infants in their arms, -parodies of childhood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is terrible!" said Mistress Newbolt, her pale -face paling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here is gold," she said to the keeper; "go fetch -me food! I will give it them. And look you," she -continued, "that you are just, and bring me full -measure for the money."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her stern eyes stared straight into Knight's, and -he, as if affrighted, looked away; nevertheless he -took the gold and departed to do her bidding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mistress Newbolt faced the opening again and -called out, "Peace, peace!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her words were received with a loud yell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peace? There is no peace here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peace, peace, God's peace be with you!" she -continued; and then in a loud voice, which rose above -the turmoil, she began:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Our Father which art in heaven."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Shrieks of mockery greeted her words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He who would have bread let him pray for -it," she cried out. "Surely it will come to him -who asketh."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A loud voice greeted her words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have asked, and they have given us stones -for bread," said a gaunt man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because ye have asked amiss," she answered. -"Down on your knees and I will pray for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A moment's hesitation, then there was dead -silence, and that crowd fell down as if moved by some -invisible power.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Repeat what I say, after me," she cried. "Our -Father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so through that blessed prayer, the like of -which there is none other, these poor wretches, the -outcast of the earth, followed her, repeating the -words, some with sobs, some still cursing between -the words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the Amen died out, Knight stood beside her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Open the gate and let me in to them," she said, -"and then do as I bid you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She took a great white loaf from the basket he -had brought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There are more coming," he said in a low voice; -"this is not all your bounty gives."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A knife," she said. "I will break each loaf in -four. Open the gate," she continued, "and I will -go in and feed them myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They will tear you to pieces," said Knight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No they will not," she answered; and she stood -erect as one inspired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The jailer took the bunch of keys from his side, -unlocked the door, and she passed in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a second she was surrounded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The bread, the bread we have prayed for!" they -cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is coming," she answered; and she took the -lumps of bread which Knight handed her. Quickly -they were snatched from her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly she stopped, for she saw that the men -in their greed were thrusting the women back, and -fighting their way towards her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cowards!" she cried, "stand back! The women -and the children. Have you nothing human left in -you? Shame! Shame!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a deep growl of anger, but slowly -the men fell back, and the women rushed forward, -kneeling at her feet, kissing her hands. Their -souls were touched, and she, stooping over them, -bade them rise, and gave them food. She took -one child in her arms and fed it with her own -hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Water!" they called out, "water!" And they -showed her a pitcher filled with a foul liquid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Water, bring water!" she repeated; and the -keepers brought it as they would have brought it at -an angel's word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She held the jars to the parched, thirsty lips, -and they drank, all those who could get near -enough; but it was not enough, there were so many.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is all," she said at last. "I have no -more; but to-morrow I will come back and feed you -again; only be human and know there is a God who -careth for you. Ye have sinned, but He will pardon -you if you repent. He suffered, though He was sinless, -and you are sinners. It is but just that you should -suffer for your sins. Listen to what the psalmist of -Israel sang." In a loud, clear voice she recited the -77th Psalm:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I cried unto God with my voice, even unto God -with my voice, and he gave ear unto me'," and so -on to the end.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Where there had been such an uproar there was -now a grave stillness, save for the groans of the -men and the weeping of the women. She stood -with the half-naked child still in her arms, and looked -down upon the people, her tall figure resting against -the unclean wall of that prison-house. Her voice -was steady; her eyes had in them that strangely -luminous look of inspiration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she had finished she gave the child back to -its mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If they will let me, I will come to you -to-morrow," she repeated, "and so each day. Only be -patient, and the Lord will be with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she spoke she backed out of the cell, and -disappeared from their sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The keepers told the governor they had never had -such a quiet day; the prisoners seemed subdued. -They took their portions of food at night and hardly -murmured. There were many brutes amongst those -men, and many shameless women, but their passions -were curbed and their evil tongues silenced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mistress Newbolt went back to her husband and -tended him all that day, praying beside him with -such earnestness, and with such impassioned -eloquence that the warders came and stood at the door -of the cell and listened. There was not one of them -who would not gladly serve her; she might ask what -she would of them, they did it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The governor, hearing what she had done, though -knowing it to be against the rules, said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let her do what she will for the poor wretches!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so every morning for ten long days she went -in to them. Some passed away, but the greater -number remained. Every day she added something -to her bounty: she gave the women cloths and -brooms, and bade them try to keep some order and -cleanliness in the cells; but it was impossible, and -she soon recognized it was so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some days she would repeat a few verses from the -Bible to them, and they would listen. Her heart -would be glad then, thinking she had won them, but -on the morrow there would be fresh cursing, swearing, -and evil-speaking. Still, she never wearied. She -brought fresh water and clean linen, and dressed -their wounds; she brought milk for the little children; -she spent herself and her wealth for these outcasts. -They grew to look upon her coming as the one thing -in the twenty-four hours for which they lived.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Our mother's coming," they told one another, -as the hour approached, and like children they watched -for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was wonderful how her strength stood it all--those -long days and nights at her husband's pallet, -and the horror of her surroundings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The order came at last that her husband should be -removed to Aldersgate to await his trial. The class -of prisoners there was of a higher degree, and the -prison was less crowded. But the order came too -late; they could not move him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He will die on the way," the doctor said; "he -must die, therefore let him remain here in peace."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she was not tending the prisoners or waiting -on her husband she was praying, this marvellous -woman, in whom verily the blood of martyrs must -have flowed. She grew gaunter and gaunter, but -there came into her face a look of enthusiasm, as if -she no longer belonged to this world, but to the -heaven of which she spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If Ann is to see my father alive, I must bring -her soon, Mother," said Reginald, on the eighteenth -day of the colonel's illness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He will not die until the twenty-first," she -answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the morning of the twenty-first it was evident -that he was sinking, that he would not outlive the -day, and so Reginald went for Ann and brought her -to the prison. He had told her something of their -mother's doings, but it was difficult for anyone who -did not see it to know what that prison life was, and -Ann was spared the horror. In the cell where her -father lay dying everything was spotless. There -was scarcely standing room for two or three people, -but the door was left open; there was no fear of his -escaping--the spirit would go, but the shell would -remain, until it was given back to earth. Man could -not hurt him; he need not fear being called to any -earthly judgment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So changed was he that Ann hardly knew him. If -she had not known he was her father she would not -have recognized him. Looking at her mother, she -saw it was the same with her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can this be my father," she thought, "by whose -side I have ridden over moor and fell, whose voice -was so strong to command, whose presence was so -good?" And then, looking at her mother, she grew -faint with fear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was something unearthly in Mistress Newbolt's -appearance: her tall figure had grown supernaturally -thin, her hands and face were transparent -in their whiteness, her eyes shone with kind and -tender pity--they were no longer cold and hard as -they had been.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Ann, overcome with grief, sank by her -father's bedside and sobbed out her sorrow, she felt -her mother's hand on her head, and her voice -whispering:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, my child, do not weep; it is well with him. -We have prayed together, he and I, when God has -vouchsafed to him short glimpses of reason, and I -am persuaded that his soul is safe in the hands of -his Maker. Do not trouble; it is well with him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she knelt beside her and poured forth her -soul in prayer. It was wonderful to hear her; she -was as one inspired; the words flowed forth in a -stream of unbroken eloquence. The warders, the -keepers, the women of the prison, all gathered round -to hear her, and many having come to mock, -remained to pray. Throughout the day this went on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Towards evening Reginald came to take Ann -away. Suddenly life seemed to come back to the -dying man. He sat up; they put pillows behind him. -He looked around him, and seeing Ann and Reginald, -beckoned them to come to him. Laying his hands on -their heads, he blessed them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have one desire," he said. "I have loved lands, -and wealth, and all the good things of this world; -now I know they are of no value at all. I charge -you two to discover if there be any child, kith or -kin, of those who possessed Newbolt Manor before it -came into my hands. If so, give it back to them; -if not, then do as the disciples of old--succour the -poor, make a home for the destitute, let the wealth -go back to God who gave it. You will remember?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will remember, Father," said Reginald; "have no fear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Colonel Newbolt sank back on his pillows as if -content, and quietly, without an effort, as if he were -falling asleep, passed away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His wife rose from her knees and covered his face. -At a sign from her all those present left the cell, -except her children. They remained with her until -the last offices for the dead had been accomplished, -then, at her command, hand in hand they went forth; -she remaining alone to keep watch beside him who -had been her husband.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-faithful-friend"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">A Faithful Friend</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In the life of every one of us, from the cradle to the -grave, there are landmarks. The child's first tooth, -its first step as it half tumbles across the floor into -its mother's arms, the first word from the baby's -lips, are stages in the child's life and in the mother's -heart. So it goes on imperceptibly--the child, the -youth, the man, school and college; these come to -all. But there are waves which sweep over each -individual soul, casting it ashore; a master wave, -drawing us into the great sea of destiny.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The death of Colonel Newbolt changed the current -of more lives than one. Ann had adored her father, -and when Reginald took her forth out of that -prison-house where he lay dead, she was as one stunned. -How great the change in her life was to be she did -not then conceive, for in the first hour of a </span><em class="italics">great</em><span> -sorrow, that sorrow alone holds us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann went back to Somerset House, and Patience -and Agnes tried to comfort her; but on the morrow -Reginald fetched her, and she went home to her -mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then a strange thing happened. One morning, -as Patience and Agnes sat at work, a commissioner -came and informed them that the king had given -orders that the queen's apartments, and, in fact, the -whole of Somerset House, was to be put under -repair. This was to be done quickly because of the -king's marriage and the return of her majesty, the -queen dowager. "Therefore", he said, "the king -desires that you should remove to Hampton Court, -to the apartments he has given you there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patience listened in silence, and when the -messenger had departed she went and shut herself into -her own room and did not appear till supper-time, -much to Agnes's astonishment, for she had never -before been left so many hours alone. The first -words she spoke startled Agnes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You heard the order for us to leave this house -and go to Hampton Court," she began. "Well, -I will not obey, because I do not choose that you -should live in the midst of the king's court. I find," -she continued, "that with great economy, and by -living in some quiet country village, I have money -enough to keep us for two or three years. Will you -be content to live thus?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall be glad to do so," said Agnes. "Ever -since we were at Greenwich my heart has yearned -for a country life. I told you a long time ago I was -tired of courts. Take me where you will, Patience, -as far out of the world as it pleases you. Of -course, Ann and Reginald will know where we go?" -she added.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Patience, "nobody must know. I am -taking you where it would be a danger for you to be -known."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes's face fell. "But I love my friends," she -said, "and would not be wholly parted from them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For the present you must be," said Patience. -"What the future holds in store for you I cannot -tell. May the Lord guide our footsteps in the right -way!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Reginald called the next day to ask them to -come to his mother and Ann, they were gone--no one -could tell where, no one knew. They had left soon -after dawn, taking Martha with them, also Rolfe, a -north-country man who had accompanied Patience to -France many years before. Evidently Patience had -judged these two to be fitting persons to serve them, -to be trusted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sad at heart, Reginald returned and told his mother -what had happened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry," she said. "I was going to ask -Patience to take charge of Ann, because this night -I had a call--I heard voices and I saw visions. The -spirit of the Lord bids me forsake the world and -serve Him only. Nothing must hinder me, and yet -Ann stands in my way; she is there before me, -blocking my path. What can I do with her? The -Lord calls me and I must go. Within those prison -gates my work lies; my work is the saving of the -souls which He has given into my hands."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Mother," said Reginald, "what can you -do for so many?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do!" she answered. "I will feed their bodies -and souls; I will teach them and I will preach to -them, if perchance I may save but one soul alive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And who will care for you, Mother?" asked Ann.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Lord," answered Mistress Newbolt, "He -will care for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tears were pouring down Ann's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Mother, you will surely need someone," she -said. "I will tend you, I will love you, I will care -for you; my heart tells me this is my work. We -will leave this great house. We will take just two -rooms without the prison gates; you can do your -work and I will do mine. When you are weary you -can rest, and I will tend you. Shall it not be so, -Reginald?" And she turned to her brother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ann speaks wisely, Mother," said Reginald. -"Let her remain with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will not hinder you, Mother," said Ann; "I -will help you. To Newbolt we cannot go, because -you know my father has willed that we should not -dwell there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In any case," said Reginald, "I doubt if we -shall keep it long. The king's greed is great; he -would not have suffered us to remain. Doubtless, -now that my father is dead, he will take it in -payment for the fine which would have been imposed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then sell it at once, and give the money to my -poor," said his mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I can," answered Reginald; "but I doubt if -that be possible. For myself, I shall go abroad. -Surely better days will dawn ere long!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He might well say this, he might well hope this. -Throughout England and Scotland a religious -persecution was waging: the Act of Uniformity was -passed. Against the Independents and the Presbyterians -the utmost rigour of the law was enforced; -the prisons were filled with nonconformist ministers -and their people. Many compared this time to the -great St. Bartholomew massacre of the Huguenots. -And what was still more grievous to all righteous -souls, the court was a hideous place, full of evil-doings, -grieving those who retained still the faintest -semblance of morality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The marriage of the king did not improve the -state of things; indeed, it made matters worse, for -the misery endured by the young queen, Catherine of -Braganza, was very great. She was left in solitude, -her own country-people were taken away from her, -and she was forced to consort with the king's friends, -who, for the most part, were distasteful to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All the ideal dreams which Reginald and Ann had -dreamt fell crumbling to the ground. They looked -back with something almost of regret to the days -of Cromwell's rule, when the strictest observance of -religious duty and of virtue was at least commended. -Their hearts were sore within them. How would it -end? There seemed much trouble in the future for -both of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If only a war would break out I would volunteer," -said Reginald. "I will not stay at home. If -I cannot serve my king at home, I will serve my -country by sea or by land."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I will serve my mother," said Ann; and -timidly, because she feared her, and yet fondly, -because she knew she was her mother, Ann threw -her arms round her neck and whispered softly in her -ears:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where thou goest I will go; thy God shall be my God."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mistress Newbolt did not return the caress, she -merely answered:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is the will of the Lord. Thou shalt abide -with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That same day she dismissed all her servants, -acting justly by them, even kindly, for she gave them -their full wages and something over; then she and -Ann went together into the city, and found two or -three rooms at the top of a house in the Old Bailey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann, who had been accustomed to open air and -freedom, wondered how she would live there; but -she did not oppose her mother. On the contrary, -she fell in with her views, and for the next day or -two they were busy moving what furniture was -necessary from the great house to the poor lodging. -Ann thought of many things, and her activity was -very great. She piled up the linen, she took all she -imagined could possibly be for their comfort; but -her heart sank as she went up those narrow stairs, -meeting ever and again strange faces of men and -women such as she had never looked on before. To -her it was an ugly life: would anything make it -beautiful? She never thought of that; she only knew -she had to live in the midst of it, and she prayed for -strength to do her duty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sometimes for days together she never saw her -mother. She wondered where she was, until at last -Reginald told her that the governor had sent for her. -It came to pass that when Mistress Newbolt ceased -to go amongst the prisoners they had become -insubordinate and had clamoured for her. Therefore the -governor besought her to renew her work amongst -them, for it meant a certain amount of peace, which -no one else could secure, and she answered him:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was waiting for your call, sir; God told me -it would come. I am ready."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Ann was left alone in the upper part of the -strange house, with only an old woman whom she -had taken to help her in the work, for her mother -would have no servants. The old woman lived in -the same house in a garret, and she had no belongings. -The neighbours said that in winter time she -was well-nigh starving, but in the summer she -hawked flowers in the street, and sometimes fruit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will do that no longer," said Ann. "I will -feed you, and you will do the rough work for me -while my mother is out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus it was arranged. At first Ann would send her -marketing--she was herself afraid of being alone in -the streets--but gradually, as she grew familiar with -her new life, she ceased to do this, and went out -herself to make her purchases. The air did her -good, and, as her mother gave her but little money, -she had to be economical.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One day, as she and Reginald were walking down -Drury Lane, she asked: "Where has all our father's -fortune gone?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Our mother is spending it," he answered. -"There are the rents of Newbolt Manor; she gets -them all. I went to see our lawyer the other day. -He told me that by my father's will everything went -to our mother, unconditionally. She is mistress of -everything; we are dependent upon her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not right," said Ann; "we shall be beggars."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am afraid we shall," said Reginald, "but it -cannot be helped. You will care for our mother; -I, as best I can, will care for you both; but the -glory is gone out of my life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tut, tut!" said a man's voice, and a hand came -down heavily on Reginald's shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned sharply, put his hand to his hat, -exclaiming: "My Lord Craven!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was coming on behind you, and I heard you -say that wicked thing, that the glory was gone out -of your life," said Lord Craven, "and you but a lad -still. You are starting in life, and because you have -one disappointment your heart fails you. Is that -being a man? Turn in with me, and we will speak -together. I am no longer young, and verily the -glory has departed out of my life." And his quaint -face, neither old nor young, grew very sad.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Craven had been all his life the champion -of the Protestant religion throughout Europe, and -the acknowledged knight of that beautiful but -unfortunate queen, Elizabeth Stuart of Bohemia, aunt -of Charles II. The queen had come to London, and -had lived a few months at Lord Craven's house in -Drury Lane. She had died in the early spring, and -so a life-long service had come to an end, and -disappointment and ingratitude were to be his reward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This is the romance of history, savouring of that -mediæval worship of a woman which we meet with -once and again, the Lauras and Beatrices of life; -stories scattered here and there to show us what -so few realize, the spiritual side of the life of man -and woman; love which is content to live, asking -for nothing, looking for nothing that this earth can -give, wholly unselfish, content to serve, content to -worship.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Both Reginald and Ann knew Lord Craven's story -well, they knew his devotion to the queen and to the -Protestant faith, also his untiring goodness to the -whole Stuart family. They had seen him, as all -the world had seen him, follow the coffin of his -"queen", as he always called Elizabeth Stuart, -holding in his hand his plumed helmet, in which -was fastened always a small white glove, his token -of service. Many mocked, some smiled at the little -Lord Craven, as he was ofttimes called; but in their -hearts all good-minded men honoured him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That the earl should address him thus familiarly -was a high honour for Reginald, and he felt it as -such.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My lord," he said, "I thank you, but I have my -sister with me, and cannot leave her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mistress Ann," said Lord Craven, and his kindly -face smiled down upon the girl, "it seems to me we -do not live far apart. Had you not a house about -here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my lord, we lived in yonder house," answered -Reginald, and he pointed to their old home. "But -my father was arrested and thrown into prison. He -is dead, and we have moved to a humbler lodging."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought as much," said the Earl. "Come and -tell me all that has befallen you." And with that -graciousness which bespoke the man who had lived -in courts, he bowed, and, looking at Ann, added:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will do me much honour if you will accompany -your brother to my house." And he doffed his -hat, with the white glove.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann curtsied, and the three turned back together -until they reached the great portal leading to the -earl's house at the corner of Drury Lane and -Aldwych. The door was wide open, as was often the -custom in those days, and men-servants stood here -and there ready to receive and execute their master's -orders. Passing through the great hall, the earl -conducted his guests to his private library, where he -mostly sat himself. It looked out upon gardens, and -seemed to all intents and purposes far removed from -the busy world. Over the mantelpiece was a lovely -portrait of Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, and beneath -it was written:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your most affectionate and most obedient slave, -who loved you and will love you incessantly, -infinitely, unto death".</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such was the vow William Craven had made as -a young man, and from which, now his hair was -grey, death alone had released him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To Ann and Reginald in their youth, with the -glamour of life still before them, this room seemed -a sanctuary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down, sit down," said the earl, "and tell me -what your trouble is, and why the glory has gone out -of your young life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He smiled as he repeated Reginald's words. He -recognized in them the impatient cry of youth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reginald never knew how it happened, but he -poured out his whole soul to the earl. He told him -how he had refused to have anything to do with -Cromwell and the Commonwealth, how he had vowed -allegiance to King Charles and the Stuarts, how his -father had been, so to speak, done to death, and how -he himself, seeing what the court of Charles II. was, -had lost heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have been serving a man and not a cause," -said Lord Craven; "that is why you are in this -plight. Forget the man, and think of the cause. You -do not know the Stuarts as I know them. They are -a wild race--they will not be curbed either for good -or evil--daring, brilliant, beautiful!" He paused, his -eyes turning involuntarily to the portrait of his queen. -Then he continued, "They hold men's hearts in their -hands, and they break them without more ado than -if they were of common clay. Look back to their -past history!" he exclaimed, and his face had in it -a strange beauty as he stood before the two young -people and spoke to them. "Think of Mary Stuart; -she lost her crown, her kingdom, everything, for -love, and others lost everything for her. It is in their -blood; they cannot help it any more than men can -help kneeling before their shrine and worshipping -them. We were a score of gentlemen who first vowed -ourselves to the service of the Princess Elizabeth -when she went forth out of England to wed the -Prince Palatine. They are all dead; I am left alone. -Do you think I have not suffered? And yet you, -because you have high ideals and are disappointed, -turn away in disgust, and would go over to the enemy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, not that," said Reginald, "not that, but I -will not be a courtier. I will be what you are, my -lord, a soldier. I will fight if there be still a cause -to fight for."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think that will be easily found," said the earl; -"there is likely to be war with Holland before long. -If you are truly desirous of seeing active service, I -will take care that you have a place found for you. -Will you serve under Prince Rupert?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed I will," answered Reginald. "I could -hope for nothing better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then take courage," said the earl, "I will speak -for you. You say that your father is dead. He was -like many another; the tables turned. Your estates -are likely to be forfeited, you will surely have heavy -fines to pay, but beyond that, seeing that you are -yourself in the king's service, and that you have -never drawn sword against him, you will not suffer. -What estates have you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have but one large estate," said Reginald, -"and my father with his dying breath bade me return -it either to its lawful heirs or to God's poor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is it?" asked the earl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Up north, in Westmorland," answered Reginald. -"Newbolt Manor it is called now, but it was -once De Lisle Abbey, and belonged to the De Lisles."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's strange," said the earl; "poor Gilbert De -Lisle! I knew him well. He was killed at -Worcester, and he left a fair young wife, who died of a -broken heart in child-birth. I never heard whether -the child lived or died."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have always understood it died," said Reginald, -"and that there was no heir to the estate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, well, then the king will bestow it on some -of his favourites," said Lord Craven. "And your -sister, has she no fortune, no dower-money?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My father left some money," answered Reginald, -"but my mother is spending it." And then rapidly -he told the earl of his father's imprisonment and -death, and how by natural instinct his mother had -taken up work in the prison, and now was spending -all the wealth they had upon it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, Mistress Ann, we shall have to see to -you," said the earl; "only prevent this brother of -yours from forsaking the cause. It has had its dark -days; you must live them down. Be not down-hearted," -he said, turning to Reginald. "We cannot -make the world as we would have it; we must take -it as it comes and make the best of it. Resign your -commission in the King's Guards, and go abroad to -Holland; I will give you an introduction to Prince -Rupert."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reginald hesitated for a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My mother and my sister," he said, "I cannot -leave them unprovided for."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will see to them," said the earl; "they shall -not suffer. We cannot afford to let young earnest -souls like yours go adrift."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you!" said Reginald, "I will think the -matter over and bring you my answer, if you will let -me; but in any case I thank you for your kindness to -us strangers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are no strangers," said Earl Craven. "I -have heard of you from my friend Delarry." As he -said this he looked at Ann, whose face coloured -and eyes drooped. "Moreover, I have watched you -both. I knew of your father's arrest and of his -death, and I shall be glad to be of service to you. I -am afraid the king is making enemies of those who -would be faithful servants, so, as is my custom, I -must step into the breach."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And we thank you," said Reginald; "your -generosity will not have been bestowed in vain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He bowed to Lord Craven, Ann curtsied, but the -earl held out his hand to them both.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are friends. Think of me as such," he said; -"for I am a lone man, and would gladly boast of a -son and daughter such as you are, to comfort me in -my old age. My house is open to you; when you -need me you will not be refused."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With that he turned away, and Reginald and Ann -went out together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely it is God's hand," said Ann. "We were -well-nigh despairing, you and I, Reginald, and now -we have a friend."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," answered Reginald, "not too soon; the -world seemed very dark, and now, well, I see the -sun."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann looked up and smiled at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So do I," she said, and they went on together -with light hearts. The young are so glad to cast -a burden off their shoulders, to greet the sunshine, to -welcome hope; it is the prerogative of youth!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-hamlet-of-st-mary-s"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">The Hamlet of St. Mary's</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was but a tiny village nestling in the midst of -moors and fells. The river Eden ran through it, and -all around was the richest verdure, woods and -plantations, such as can only be seen in Westmorland, -one of the smallest but also one of the most fertile -counties in England.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was just before harvest time--the golden corn -waved over many an acre. A tiny church stood with -its white turret just under the hill-side; beside it was -the vicarage, and there for many a year the -Rev. John Ewan had dwelt and ministered to a scattered -moorland flock. He had come there as a young man -with a young wife. She lay in the little churchyard, -and of their three children there remained but one, a -girl of sixteen summers, who kept house and served -her father with untiring devotion. She had never -been beyond the radius of the three counties which -bound Westmorland, and she had no ambition to -wander. She had no companion save her father; she -rode and walked with him. He had taught her all -she knew, and that was considerably more than most -girls, for the winters were long and the days short, -and in the evening, over the fireside, she read much, -and she listened to her father as he spoke to her of -things of the past. She knew much of the history -of England; it was a passion with her, and she had -ever been a rigid loyalist, as her father was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Strange to tell, throughout the Civil War this -little village and its minister had been left -unmolested, and yet it was at no great distance from -Appleby; but then it was such a little place, and -the farmhouses were so scattered. Often during -those days of internal warfare they had seen men -on horseback, Roundheads and Royalists alike, ride -in hot haste through the village, and Jessie had -longed for them to stop. She would have dearly -loved to speak with them, but they passed on. There -was nothing to tempt them in the dozen low thatched -cottages which clustered together; there was no inn -for them to halt at for refreshment, so they invariably -rode on. Almost at the top of the hill, beyond which -the moorlands stretched, there was an old farmhouse. -No one knew to whom by rights it belonged. Some -said it was part of the De Lisle estate; others that -it was tithe land, and the vicar could lay claim to -it. Be that as it may, it had been long uninhabited, -when one morning a serving-man stopped at the -vicarage gate and asked to see the minister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was shown into a room with great rafters -across the ceiling and walls lined with books. At -a table in the centre, at his desk, sat the vicar. -He was a man something over forty, with a handsome, -clever face, but with a look of abstraction in -his eyes not unusual in one who lives far away from -the world and its doings. This morning he had two -companions, a big sheep-dog and Jessie, the latter -curled up in an arm-chair deep in her book.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A man wants to see you, sir," said the woman -servant, opening the door just wide enough to put in -her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Show him in, Mary," answered the vicar; and -a big man in a rough brown jerkin, leggings, coarse -stockings, and hob-nailed shoes entered, holding his -cap in his hand. He was a man of about five-and-thirty, -with a mass of brown hair and a somewhat -reddish beard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He came up and stood at the vicar's table. As he -did so he laid a letter before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My mistress has sent me with this," he said; -"will you please read it, sir, and give me your -answer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The vicar looked at the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It seems to me I have seen you before," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is many a long day since I have been in these -parts," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you </span><em class="italics">have</em><span> been in these parts before?" -asked the vicar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you read the letter, sir, because I have left -the missus in the wood out yonder," he answered -shortly, adding, "We have travelled all the way from -London, and shall be glad to have a roof over our -heads."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jessie twisted herself round, looked at the man, -then rose, saying quickly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no room in this village, and no inn; -you must go farther on to Dearham."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man looked at her, a queer smile lighting up -his rugged face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There be the Holt, missie, I ween."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Holt!" exclaimed Jessie; "people don't go -to the Holt, do they, Father?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During this conversation the vicar was reading the -letter which had been given to him. It consisted of -four pages of close writing, and the vicar's face -changed more than once while he was mastering its -contents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he had finished he laid the letter down and -rested his head in his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, sir?" said the man anxiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will go back with you, my man," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jessie," he continued, "the key of Holt Farm is -on the nail; take it, go quickly and open the -house." And without another word he and the man went out -together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jessie rose, took the key, whistled, and went to the -door, the sheep-dog at her heels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where be you going, miss?" asked Mary, looking -out from the half-open kitchen door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am going to Holt Farm," she answered, "to -open it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What for? It was aired last Monday," said Mary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father told me to go," answered Jessie; and with -that she left the house, went through the garden and -the adjoining churchyard, crossed a low stone bridge -which spanned the river a few yards lower down, and -began climbing the hillside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was pretty steep, but she did not feel it; she -had been born among the hills, and fells, and dales. -The dog bounded before her, sniffing the balmy air, -odorous with the scent of the heather and the -multitudinous wild flowers which grew on the hillside. -It was a good walk before she reached the wicket-gate, -and, lifting the latch, went into the farm garden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A gravel path led up to the house. There were no -weeds, no overgrowth of any sort, as is often the -case in an uninhabited homestead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had never given any reason for his doing so, -but the vicar had himself kept the place in order, -had had repairs done when necessary, and had -seen that the garden was trim and neat, and that -every week the windows were thrown open. The -house was literally buried in trees, so that till you -came close up to it you could not see more than the -outline of a building. There had been no clearance -made for the last fifteen years, and the boughs of the -elm-trees touched the windows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not a large place: a stone house with a deep -porch in the centre, on either side of which were long -low windows, with lozenge-shaped panes of glass. -On the first and only story were two similar windows, -that was all; but the house extended far back, -looking out upon a somewhat large court-yard, in -which there were stables and outhouses, as was -common in farmhouses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jessie turned the big key in the door; it opened -immediately, and she entered a small, square hall. -It was red-tiled and furnished with some oak chairs, -and a great clock of the kind we nowadays call a -grandfather's clock. From this hall a staircase led -to the upper rooms. On either side of the hall were -doors, which Jessie now threw open. The one on the -right hand showed a long, low, oak-panelled room, -with a large fireplace, a great oak table in the centre, -a sideboard, and a dresser, upon which were arranged -plates, and dishes, and great pewter mugs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Evidently this was the dining-hall and kitchen in -one, for beyond was the scullery. Everything was -spotlessly clean, save for a light covering of dust. -The door on the other side of the hall led into a -parlour, which was furnished with unusual luxury -for those days. The sofas and easy-chairs were -covered with a delicately faded chintz. There were -taborets and small tables, scattered here and there, -of highly-polished oak, upon which stood vases and -big bowls of old china. A pair of virginals -occupied one corner of the room, and beside them, on a -stool, lay an unstrung guitar. It was a room which -conjured up dreams. Who had dwelt there? What -gentle soul had once touched those now broken cords, -or let her fingers run over the notes of the virginals? -There were portraits also on the walls, not many; -but two attracted the eye at once. They represented -a young man in full court dress of the time of Charles -I, and a young girl, a child almost, in a white satin -gown, with strings of pearls round her neck, and her -fair, golden hair in curls about her forehead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jessie from her childhood had always loved this -room. Once or twice she had asked her father whom -these pictures represented, and what was the story of -this house where no one dwelt, but he had answered:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot tell you, Jessie. I was a young man -when I came here. I only saw the mistress once--when -she was dying. Don't ask me anything more, child!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So she had dreamt of many things, and made pictures -to herself of those who had once lived in those -rooms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Upstairs there were two bed-rooms with great beds -in them, one shrouded in damask, the other in white -dimity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Looking out of the window she saw her father and -the man coming up towards the house leading three -horses. On two of them women were riding on -pillions; the other one had no rider, but instead a -girl was running on in front. She had thrown off -her cloak, for although it was early morning the day -was warm, and she was bareheaded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jessie went out into the porch, and, looking down -at this girl, saw that her face and figure were unlike -any she had ever seen before. She resembled a lily, -tall and willowy, with golden hair, upon which the -sun now glinted, and with a face so sweet that at a -distance it might have been an angel's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was evidently impatient, for she ran quickly -on in front of the others. Once she paused and -looked back, and Jessie heard her call out:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it up there--all the way up there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And her father, raising his hat, had answered her:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, up there, my child."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a short time she had reached the wicket-gate, -caught sight of Jessie in the porch, and laughed at -her, such a glad, merry laugh, which seemed to bring -joy with it, and stir up all the echoes in the old house!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jessie started. Could it be that she heard that -laugh re-echoed from somewhere? But she had no -time to listen; her hands were taken, and rosy lips -pouted to kiss her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have come to welcome us!" exclaimed the -girl. "That is good of you. Oh, I am so glad to -be here; I am so tired!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One would not think so," returned Jessie; "you -have come so quickly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, of course I came quickly, because I -am so tired," was the merry answer. "Let me see." And -she pushed her way past Jessie and ran straight -into the parlour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, how sweet! how pretty!" she exclaimed. -"I thought it would be ugly and desolate. Patience -would not tell me; she said she had seen Holt Farm -long long ago, and verily it looks as if someone had -just gone out and left it for us. Oh, I shall be so -happy here, so happy!" And she let herself fall into a -great arm-chair, which seemed to swallow her up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just at that moment the vicar and Patience reached -the house. The vicar lifted Patience down, and, -turning, said to Rolfe, the man-servant:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take the horses round to the back. I will come -and show you the way to the stables."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you kindly, sir, I know the way," answered -Rolfe. "You had better get down here," he added, -speaking to the serving-woman, and he lifted her to -the ground; but she was stiff with her long journeyings, -and would have fallen if he had not steadied her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lack-a-day!" she exclaimed, "I hope this is the -end of our journeyings. A poor place, and a lonely -one! Why, man, we might be murdered up here and -no one be any the wiser!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have no fear; you will not be murdered," said -Rolfe, and, taking the three horses by their reins, -he led them away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patience had entered the house. Her face was -very white, her eyes full of tears, as she stood inside -the parlour door looking around her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes, when she saw her, sprang up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Patience, you never told me it was so beautiful! -It is the loveliest little place I have ever seen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a very humble home," said Patience, "but -it is home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have never had a home before," said Agnes, -"only big rambling palaces. I shall love this; it -breathes of love." And, taking Jessie's hand, she -said, "Take me, show me everything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jessie looked at her father. This impetuous young -person was a revelation to them both; life was so -still and calm at St. Mary's, for so the hamlet was -called. A little way down the river there had once -been a chapel, dedicated to the Virgin. It formed -part of an old convent, but the convent and chapel -had been destroyed in the time of Henry VIII; a few -stones only remained to show where it had been, but -the name of St. Mary's had remained to the hamlet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Agnes, "are you not going to show -me anything?" And she frowned at Jessie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes! Come, I will show you all!" Jessie -answered quickly, as if she were bound to obey this -newcomer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"First tell me your name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My name is Jessie," was the answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And mine is Agnes. That will do; now, Jessie, -come along." And the young feet pattered away over -the tiled floors, through the kitchen and scullery, out -into the court-yard, then up the stairs, and through -the bed-rooms, awakening echoes where there had -been a long silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patience looked up at the vicar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have I done well?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think you have done well and wisely," he answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you, is it well with you? How beautifully -you have kept the place. It is just as we left it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have done my best," the vicar answered; "it -has been a labour of love. I thought you would -bring the child home one day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is time I did," she answered.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-mystery-cleared-up"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">The Mystery Cleared Up</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Father, who are these people who have walked -into Holt Farm as if it belonged to them?" asked -Jessie that same evening. "Is it for them you have -kept it so beautiful?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The vicar hesitated a moment, looked at his daughter, -then said quietly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Jessie, it was for them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why have you never told me about them? Have -you known them long?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I baptized that child," he answered, "and I -buried her mother; she lies beneath the chancel in -our little church."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where the cross is in the pavement, Father?" -Jessie asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, there," he answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no name," said Jessie softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, there is no name," answered her father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does she know?" asked Jessie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mean does the child know?" asked the vicar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; who else should I mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot tell," he answered; "I do not know -myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the person who is with her?" asked Jessie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She knows everything; more than I do," answered -her father. "She carried the child away, -and I have not seen her since; only from time to -time I have heard from her, and have had sums of -money sent me to keep the house in order. It -belongs to her. Now you must ask no more questions, -and you must answer none. Can I trust you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course you can," said Jessie, with a little -touch of temper. "How beautiful this Agnes is!" -she continued; "she is like two persons in one. She -has the golden hair of the lady in the picture, and -the laughing brown eyes of the man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You saw that?" asked her father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course I saw it; anyone would," she answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then, say nothing about it," said her father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They sat down to their evening meal. Mary, the -faithful servant, who had been with them ever since -Jessie's birth, who had nursed the mistress, who had -seen the other little children laid beside her to rest, -was excited to-night, and could not keep silence as -she waited on the vicar and his daughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The people in the village are all agog to know -who the newcomers are," she said. "Only a few -are left who remember the coming and the flitting -from the Holt, fifteen years ago. They remember -the christening of the babe and the burying of the -mother. Old Thomas, the sexton, says he's sure -the child's name was Agnes. Can that girl be the -child?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is even so, Mary," said the vicar, "but you -need not talk about it. Let them say what they will. -In a few days they will quiet down, and we shall hear -no more gossip."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not given to gossiping," said Mary in an -injured tone, "but it's not that easy to shut other -people's mouths."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't try," said her master; "let things be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The vicar was right. Things let alone settle down -by themselves, and before a month was over Agnes -and Patience had stepped into their places; it was as -if they had always been at St. Mary's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To the child it was a homecoming, a joy to her -who had never had a home. From the first it was -settled that she should go every day to the vicar to -be taught with Jessie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is very ignorant," Patience said, "she can -barely read or write in English; but she is quick, -and I shall be much mistaken if she does not learn -as fast as you can teach her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the girlish figure running down the hillside, -crossing the bridge, picking her way over the -tombstones of the little churchyard on her way to the -vicarage garden, was soon a familiar sight. The men -and women going to their work in the fields wished -her good morrow, and she answered them with a -glad voice and a brilliant smile, so that at last many -went out of their way to win that smile and that -gracious greeting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She be that beautiful," they would say amongst -themselves, and gradually a few remembered how -the vicar had baptized a babe who was born at the -Holt and how he had buried the mother a few days -later. "If she be that babe," they said, "surely she -be one of us." And they straightway adopted her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Holt Farm, though not in itself an extensive holding, -consisted of fields which had always been used -by the vicar for grazing purposes. Also there was -an acre or two of agricultural land, where the corn -and the barley waved in their seasons. The vicar -had superintended the farming of all this, and had -gathered in the money, but now Patience took all -things into her own hands. She engaged the labourers, -she presided over the dairy, and the cattle -and the poultry yard became a great feature of the -place. Rolfe was her head man and Martha saw -to the house, and the vicar went each day to the -Holt to see that all was well with Patience, and if -she needed counsel, he gave it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This homecoming of these two strangers changed -many things in the hamlet of St. Mary's. Holt -Farm became a centre to which they all looked. In -that scattered parish for miles round the peasants -soon learnt that for every ill and for every sorrow -they would find help and sympathy there, so they -came without fear and returned to their own homes -cured, they said, both in body and soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Never for one moment did Agnes complain of the -tasks set her by the vicar. Jessie was always there, -and Jessie always helped her as long as she needed -help, but she had come to her teacher with a clear, -untired mind, and everything was easy to her. The -vicar was a wonderful teacher; as he had taught -Jessie, so he taught Agnes, not dry regulation lessons, -but the pith of knowledge of people and of things. He -let her talk; he let her tell him all her difficulties. -She had but little clear knowledge of religion. This -he put down to her foreign life. What she did know -was indeed a strange medley; but with his strong -mind he made things plain to her, so that she learnt -to see and to understand rightly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was very confidential with him, as if he had -been her father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not know anything about my father or my -mother," she said one day, "only that they are dead." And -tears gathered in her eyes so that the vicar was -moved. He laid his hand on her, saying, "I baptized -you, Agnes, and the same night your mother died. -Will you come and see where her body lies until the -great resurrection day?" He took her by the hand, -and Jessie followed them. The three knelt before the -altar, in front of which was a black cross embedded -in the stone. It had been the vicar's own handiwork.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they rose from their knees Agnes asked -under her voice:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What was my mother's name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go home and ask Dame Patience," said the -vicar. "I cannot tell you; she is your guardian."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes went home, and that night the vicar came -and spoke to Patience, and told her she had best tell -the child the mystery of her birth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is no mystery," said Patience, "only because -we feared those to whom Cromwell might give her -lands, and what evil might befall her in consequence, -have I kept it secret, and the queen also." Then, -taking Agnes by the hand, she pointed to the two -pictures and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is your father, Sir Gilbert de Lisle, and -that is your mother, Agnes, his young wife, and my -sister. This place belongs to me, it was part of my -inheritance, and when your father joined the king's -army he entreated me to bring his wife hither because -it is a quiet place, and because to leave her alone at -De Lisle Abbey would have been to expose her to great -danger if the king's army were routed. I consented, -and he brought her himself to the Holt, and here -they parted never to meet again. Our worst fears -were realized: your father was killed at Worcester, -and from that hour your mother never lifted her head. -She waited to give you birth, and died within the -week, desiring me to take you as soon as I could -over to France to Queen Henrietta Maria. I was -loath to do so; I would sooner have kept you here. -But she proved right, for before long Cromwell laid -his hands on everything, distributed lands and estates, -and a child like you, with no one to protect you, -would probably have fared badly. We heard that -the whole of the De Lisle estate had been bestowed -upon a Parliamentarian, but who he was we do not know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes turned sharply round:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I know," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who?" asked Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Colonel Newbolt!" answered Agnes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you know?" asked the vicar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because, as Aunt Patience knows, his son and -daughter are great friends of mine, and as we were -talking one day they told me they had come into -lands belonging to Royalists. I asked the name of -the Royalists, and Reginald answered, 'The De -Lisles'. Afterwards Ann told me all about the De -Lisles, and the legend concerning them. Then -again, I heard from an old man that though they -had been driven out the De Lisles would come back -again. But Ann and Reginald are my dear friends! -I will not have them turned out for me! They -would have gone of themselves if they had been -asked, but they shall not be asked; they are my -friends." And she burst out weeping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was such an unusual thing for Agnes to weep -that Patience took her in her arms, and petted and -made much of her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We will leave things in God's hands, my child," -she said. "If He gives you back your own it will be -well; if not, then it will be well also."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do I want more than I have?" said Agnes. -"I am your child, my own dear aunt, and this place -shall be my home; here I was born, and here my -mother is buried--I am content."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So be it," said Patience. "No one shall trouble -you; we will dwell in peace together."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Verily they did dwell in peace, buried in this little -out-of-the-way spot. If Agnes sometimes thought of -her old friends, she silenced her longings, for to find -them she must go back to a world which she did not -love, to London or to Paris, to courts and court life. -In the quiet hours of study her mind grew with -such rapidity that even the vicar marvelled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jessie was no laggard at learning or at work of -any sort, but Agnes outstripped her, with that quiet -ease with which she did everything. Her beautiful -soul was reflected in her form and face. To see her -was to love her. She was a sunbeam going in and -out of the cottages, running to and fro, kneeling in -church; wherever she passed, brightness followed in -her wake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Excepting at night she and Jessie were never -parted. The Holt and the Vicarage were one home -for both; so they grew side by side, Jessie a quiet -maiden, very wise and good, ordering her father's -house, teaching in the little school, visiting the sick -all day. In the evenings the two would sit together -reading or talking, the vicar and Patience would -join them, and the former would bring tidings from -the outside world. Two or three times a year he -would go into Appleby, and then he would come -back with a great store of court news. He told them -of the battles which were being fought at sea, of the -selling of Dunkirk--a shame to England--of stories -of De Ruyter and many other great captains.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"England is losing her prestige," he said, "by -sea and by land. The king loves pleasure too well, -and his country too little."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Like tall lilies the two girls grew, side by side, -with sunshine in their hearts and on their faces. The -tender blossoms of spring, the bright summer days -with their fruits and flowers, the mellow autumn with -its crimson sunsets, the snows of winter, went and -came almost unheeded by them, for each season -had its joys. There was not a cloud on those young -brows; unreasoningly, as if it were a natural thing, -they rejoiced in life. Shadows had gone before and -might follow after, but for the time they walked in -light.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="at-court"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">At Court</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Men stopped their work, women turned out on to -their door-steps, to see a king's messenger riding -through the hamlet of St. Mary's. He drew rein -at the vicarage gate, threw himself off his horse, and -would have knocked at the door had it not been -wide open; so he called out:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the king's name, parson!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The vicar, bending over his next Sunday's sermon, -rose hastily and came out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you Parson Ewan?" asked the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am," answered the vicar, straightening himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then can you tell me if a woman by name -Patience Beaumont is living hereabouts at a place -called Holt Farm?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly she is," said the vicar. "She has dwelt -there for well-nigh three years."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you direct me to the farm?" asked the -messenger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without any further answer the vicar stepped out -into the garden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have but to cross yonder bridge and go -straight before you. Holt Farm stands just behind -that clump of trees."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a steep ride for a horse," put in the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; you would do better to go on foot," answered -the vicar. "I will see to your horse; you will find it -here on your way back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you!" said the messenger, "I shall be glad -to walk. I have been riding since dawn."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You come from London?" asked the vicar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Naturally," answered the man. "Do you not -see I am a king's messenger? But I come from a -queen." And he showed on his sleeve the embroidered -lilies of France entwined with the rose of -England.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Queen Henrietta Maria of France?" said the -vicar slowly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The same," answered the man, giving the reins -he still held to the vicar. "Have you no inn in the -place?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said the vicar, "but you will find good -refreshment up yonder. I would offer you some myself, -but it is better for a man to do his work first and -eat and drink afterwards. You have not far to go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man shrugged his shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps you are wise," he said, and went off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The vicar watched him. "What news can he have -brought?" he thought. "Is our peace going to be -broken into?" And a look of regret crept over his -face. Three peaceful years is a span in a man's -life which he does not willingly see disturbed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned, re-entered the house, and was met by -Jessie in her bibbed apron, her hands white from -kneading the bread.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is that man, Father?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The king's messenger," he answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What can he want? Why has he come here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That I cannot tell you," answered her father. -"We shall probably know in due time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I had not my first batch ready for the oven, -I would run up to the farm at once," she said regretfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Better wait, my little girl," said the vicar. "If -it is good news it will come to us quickly; if it is -bad, there is time enough. Go back to your -bread-making; I will go back to my sermon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that is all very well!" Jessie muttered to -herself, "but I am always afraid of what will happen -up there, lest something should take them away -again, and then, then what should I do?" And -tears gathered in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If Jessie had had few joys in life, she had had no -sorrows, so that even this little cloud, no bigger -than a man's hand in her horizon, frightened her -soul. She went back to her bread-making, but her -heart was no longer in her work, and the bread -suffered; it was long rising, and she felt guilty when -on the morrow Mary remarked:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's not so light as it might be, Jessie."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Agnes was in the garden tying up some plants, -gathering the roses, and clearing away any dead leaf -or bud which had faded on the bushes. Suddenly she -heard a click at the garden gate, looked up, and saw -a man in the royal livery she remembered so well, -just walking up the gravel path to the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He saw her, came up, and doffed his cap.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you Dame Patience Beaumont?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," she answered, laughing; "I am Agnes -Beaumont. Patience is my aunt. What do you want -with her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have a letter for her," answered the messenger, -opening a satchel which was flung over his shoulder, -and drawing forth a somewhat large packet. "I was -to deliver this into her own hands," he continued. -"Will you call her? And then will you bid your -serving wench give me some food? I have ridden -hard since dawn without breaking my fast, and I am -both hungry and thirsty--more thirsty than hungry," -he added, with a meaning look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come this way," said Agnes, and though she -was clad in simple homespun, with a white kerchief -folded across her bosom and an apron tied over her -skirt, and though she wore thick high-heeled shoes--on -which, however, were silver buckles--there was -about her a something which spoke of gentle birth. -She walked so erect, so easily, with such an -unspeakably graceful swing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man watched her curiously. He was accustomed -to court dames, queens, and princesses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you will come this way," she said, "Martha -will give you food and drink, and I will take your -letter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He followed her to the back premises, and, opening -a side door which led into the kitchen, she called -out:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here is a king's messenger, Martha, asking for -Aunt Patience. He has travelled from London, and -is hungry and thirsty. Will you see to him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lack-a-day!" said Martha, coming forward, "I -guess he'll bring us no good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a hard speech, Mistress Martha," said -the man. "Why should I bring you ought but -good from her gracious majesty, Queen Henrietta, -whose servant I am?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stood before him and looked at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why," she cried, "you're Peter Kemp!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you be Martha," he said. "Well, the place -has agreed with you, Martha; you look ten years -younger." And he caught hold of her two hands -and shook them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Supposing you give me my aunt's letter," broke -in Agnes with a stately air, "you can greet each -other after."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I beg your humble pardon," said the man, and -fumbling once more in the satchel, he drew out the -packet, and without any further trouble gave it to her.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 60%" id="figure-43"> -<span id="he-drew-out-the-packets"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""HE DREW OUT THE PACKETS"" src="images/img-160.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"HE DREW OUT THE PACKETS"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned to go, but remembering, looked back -and said somewhat haughtily:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can feed him now, Martha."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was hardly outside the door when she heard -them talking, fifty to the dozen. She paused, and -looked doubtfully at the packet in her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it for good or evil?" she murmured; then she -added quickly: "Why should I fear? Surely what -God sends must be good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was no longer a child but a girl, verging upon -womanhood, tall, not over slight of figure, but, as -we have said before, graceful and perfectly built. -The face was the same child's face; the tendrils of -golden hair still clustered round her head and lay on -her white neck; the brown eyes had the same luminous, -laughing look in them; her colouring was rich -and perfect, a little sunburnt, like a ripe peach, and -the lips were ripe too.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A door led from the kitchen to the living-room, so -she had not far to go. Patience was sitting at the -table with a pile of snowy linen in front of her, which -she was sorting and arranging with housewifely care.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aunt Patience," said Agnes, going up to her, "a -king's messenger has just brought this;" and she -put the packet down before her. Then she stood at -the other side of the table, her hands on her hips, -watching her aunt, who took the packet up, turned -it over, sighed, and exclaimed:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah me, I have always feared this day would come!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why have you feared it?" asked Agnes sharply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because I am very much mistaken if it does not -mean an uprooting," said Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But if you do not choose to go, must you?" -asked Agnes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I must," answered Patience. "You are -old enough to understand now, Agnes, that I owe it -to your father's honour to show you to the world as -his child, the heiress of the De Lisles. There is no -need now to hide it; if the queen has sent for me it -is because she is of the same mind." With that she -broke the seal and read the queen's letter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It contained an express command for her to come -to London and bring the child, Agnes De Lisle, with -her, with all the papers necessary to prove her -father's marriage with Agnes Beaumont, and her -own birth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I do not care," said Agnes. "I do not want -to go; I am quite happy here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are what we are born," said Patience. -"Have you forgotten your catechism, 'to do your -duty in that state of life in which it has pleased God -to place you'? We will go to London, Agnes, and -come back here if we can, my child."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Agnes threw herself face downwards on the -table and sobbed her heart out. Patience herself -was as white as the linen which lay before her, but -she never swerved from what she believed to be -right. That, too, was her nature; she gave no -thought to her own likings or dislikings. Young as -she had been when her sister died, all these years -she had lived for her child and her duty. She sat -quietly waiting till Agnes's storm of sobs should -cease. Upon this scene the vicar entered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was evidently very serious and very much -troubled. Patience looked up as he entered and -their eyes met for one second, then she looked away, -and a faint flush coloured her face. He went up to -Agnes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My little girl," he said, "why this great grief?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The queen has ordered us to London," said -Patience. "She must have divined our hiding-place, -or someone must have told her, and she has bidden -me take Agnes with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, of course you must go," said the vicar; -"what is there so very terrible in this, Agnes? I -have heard you say you loved the queen well, and her -daughter too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I did," said Agnes, "but all that is past like -a dream. I have been so happy here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you were happy before you came here," -said the vicar, smiling. "I thought you looked the -happiest child I had ever seen when I first saw you. -You will always find some joy in life, Agnes; it is in -your nature. Come, cheer up!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The vicar's power over Agnes had always been -unquestioned. She stood up, wiped her eyes, and a -poor little smile crept over her pretty face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There, that's all right," said the vicar, patting -her on the shoulder. "Now, Mistress Patience, let -me see your letter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," he said, laying it down, "much honour -awaits you, Agnes, and you must try and do us all -credit, and prove yourself worthy to be the -representative of so good and so old a family as the -De Lisles. You are your father's daughter, -remember. You never knew him, but your Aunt -Patience did, and she will tell you that he was a -man of high honour and a good Christian soldier. -He served God, he honoured his king, and he loved -your mother. Is it not so, Patience?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, it is indeed!" she said; "he worshipped his -young wife. She was so young and fragile, it was -something more than ordinary love which he bore -her, and she could not live without him, that is why -she died, Agnes. I see her now standing at his -stirrup as he bade her farewell. She was brave as -long as she saw him, but she fainted in my arms -when he was out of sight. I tried hard to make -her live for love of you, but she shook her head. -'I cannot', she said, and so she died."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tears filled even the vicar's eyes as Patience told -this story of true love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fortunately Martha broke in upon them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peter Kemp says he must be off, that he must -be at Skipton before nightfall. The queen was -urgent that he should not tarry on the road. He -waits your answer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He shall have it," said Patience, and going to -an ancient cabinet she opened it, drew forth paper -and pens, sat down and indited her letter, folded and -sealed it, and then went herself into the kitchen and -gave it to the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She knew him well, even as Rolfe, whom Martha had -fetched, did. The men had been comrades together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will come back to London, Rolfe," Peter -said, as he took up his cap to go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not I," answered Rolfe. "I never had much -liking for court life; I shall abide here and keep the -place together."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you'll come, Martha," said Peter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall go where my mistress goes," answered -the woman. "Good-day, and good luck go with -you, Peter Kemp!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They shook hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll go down the hill with you," said Rolfe. -"You left your horse at the vicarage?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; he was well-nigh done, and it's a mighty -steep climb up here," said Peter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are near the top," answered Rolfe carelessly; -"it's fine and airy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They went down the hillside together. Before -them, flitting like a fairy over the grass, they saw -Agnes; she sped so quickly that they could not -overtake her. She crossed the bridge and disappeared -into the vicarage before they reached it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A bird of ill omen he is," said the vicar's Mary, -standing by Rolfe at the vicarage gate watching -Peter ride away; then she added, in a low voice, -"Those two young creatures are well-nigh breaking -their hearts over the news he brought."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They're young," answered Rolfe; "their hearts -will mend, have no fear, Mary."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="under-the-shadow-of-newgate"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Under the Shadow of Newgate</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Let Mistress Patience know that I am waiting to -receive her," said Queen Henrietta Maria, as she sat -before her dressing-table, the barber being engaged -in the dressing of her hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was no longer the beautiful Henrietta Maria -who had come to England as the bride of Charles I. -Trouble had told upon her and aged her even before -her time, and we find her spoken of in the chronicles -as a "little old woman". And yet she was not -more than fifty-six years of age; but she had grown -crusty, and evil-tempered, jealous of those who were -younger than herself, and nothing ages a woman like -jealousy and spite. A kindly, loving heart softens -away the hard lines and keeps the face young because -of the love which dwells in the heart; but where -there is no love, there is no youth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had hardly given the order when the door was -thrown open and the usher announced: "Madam -Patience Beaumont and the Lady Agnes De Lisle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The queen turned sharply round, despite her -barber's exclamation of despair, and the tired face -brightened up. "At last, you truants!" she -exclaimed, as Patience hurried forward, knelt, and -kissed the extended hand. The queen's eyes passed -over her and rested on Agnes: "Verily a beauty!" -she whispered. "Well, ma mie," she said aloud, -as Agnes approached her, "have you quite -forgotten your queen-mother?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have not forgotten her at all, your majesty," -answered Agnes, as she followed her aunt's example, -knelt, and kissed the royal hand; but Henrietta -lifted her face between her hands and looked at her, -tears filling her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Patience," she said, "she is the most beautiful -thing I have seen for many a day; she is father and -mother welded together. Is she as good as she is -beautiful?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Madam, who can tell?" answered Patience; -"she is very young, and has not been tempted."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The queen's brow darkened as she repeated the -words. "Ah, that is it; she has not been tempted! -You have kept her in cotton wool, Patience."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay," answered Patience, "I have kept her -beneath God's heaven in the world of nature, and -I would have kept her there still had your majesty -not sent for her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again the queen's brow darkened, but she answered -quickly: "It was our duty to her father and mother. -If I had not interfered you would have married her -to some country bumpkin. Now we will see that she -is restored to her rightful position; is it not so, -Agnes?" And she tapped the girl on her cheek. -Then she turned back again and the barber renewed -his offices.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, stand beside me, child, and tell me what -you have been doing all these years, and why you -did not write even to Henrietta? She is mightily -angry with you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not let her," answered Patience; "it would -have only been a disturbing element in her life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have not forgotten that she was my first -friend," said Agnes. "I have prayed for her every -day, and I should love to see her, only----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only what?" asked the queen sharply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not think I like court life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, you will soon speak differently," said the -queen, "when you are flattered and made much of! -Have you brought the necessary papers, Patience, -that I may show them to my son? I see she has -taken her rightful name, Agnes De Lisle; the next -thing will be to restore her estates. Do you know -who holds them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We know who did," answered Patience, "but -they may have been dispossessed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who may it be?" asked the queen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The De Lisle estates were given to Colonel -Newbolt, who was imprisoned and died at Newgate," -answered Patience. "His son Reginald was his -heir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Has he not inherited?" asked the queen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He certainly has put in no claim," answered -Patience, "for he went abroad soon after his father's -death and has not returned."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But someone has taken the rents," said the queen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That remains for your majesty to find out," said -Patience. "I cannot tell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, we will enquire into the matter," said the -queen, as, released from her barber, she stood up and -faced Agnes. Again she smiled as she looked at the -girl, who was simply charming, in a plain, white -gown, unbedizened, with only a coil of pearls round -her white throat, and her hair in natural curls. She -was as fresh as a flower, and the queen, delighted, -clapped her hands, and, turning to her friend, Lord -Jermyn, said in a low voice, "She will make a -sensation. Did you ever see anything so fresh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not of late years, certainly," he answered. -"But your majesty is forgetting your appointment -with the king at Whitehall."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, well, I must be gone," said the queen, -"but I shall expect you to be here when I return, -Patience; I have many things to ask you. Bring -the child with you; mind you always bring the -child."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your majesty does her great honour," said -Patience. "I will not forget."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the queen nodded kindly to Agnes, and -gave her hand to Lord Jermyn, who conducted her -down the stairs and across the hall to her coach, -which was in waiting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patience and Agnes returned to their own apartments, -which were the same as they had occupied -before; for, although Somerset House had been -restored and a certain portion rebuilt, these rooms -had been left almost as they were.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes was very serious when they found -themselves alone. "I wish we were home again, -Patience!" she sighed. "Do you know, I am -frightened--frightened of the queen, frightened of -everything; and yet I used not to be. I did not -care a bit for queens and princesses in olden days. -I remember quite well sitting on the queen's lap and -talking to her as I would to anyone else. I could -not do that now. And then, again, I thought she -was very beautiful; but she is not beautiful now, -yet it is not so very long ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It has been long enough to make a woman of -you, Agnes, and therefore long enough to age the -queen and mar her beauty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It has not marred yours, Patience," said the -girl. "I never remember you any other than you -are now; your face was always so sweet. It is like, -well, it is like a madonna's face. It must be because -you are so good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush, hush!" said Patience, her pale cheeks -colouring. "I am not at all good, Agnes; I have -been very wilful, as wilful as you could be if you -were driven to it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope that will never be," said Agnes. "Do -you know, Aunt Patience, I heard you tell the queen -that I had never been tempted. Surely to be tempted -is not a necessity. I always stop in my prayers and -say twice over, 'Lead us not into temptation; but -deliver us from evil'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As long as you do that, you will never go far -wrong," said Patience, stroking the fair face which -she loved so well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, what shall we do this afternoon, little one? -It is very hot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it is very hot," said Agnes; "this London -is stifling." She went to the window and threw it -wide open. "Ah, it is like a furnace outside!" she -added, and quickly shut the window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think we had best stay where we are," said -Patience, "and later we will take a barge and go up -or down the river; surely there will be some air -there!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes did not answer, she seemed to be thinking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does not what I propose suit you, child?" asked -Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl threw herself on her knees beside her aunt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear," she said, "I have a great wish. I don't -seem to care for anything else in London, but I -want to find Ann Newbolt! How can we do it? -You remember we heard that Reginald had gone -abroad, and that Ann was living somewhere with -her mother not far from Newgate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is no good," said Patience; "it would be -like hunting for a needle in a haystack. Besides, -I am not sure that it would be well for you to find -those Newbolts again. You see, if the king is -determined to restore you to your own they must be -driven out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should hate that; oh, I should hate it terribly!" -cried Agnes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it must be well," said Patience. "Cromwell -had no right to give what was not his own."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a pause, then Agnes looked up and -said quietly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jessie and I were looking through an old book -which treated of the estates and lands in -Westmorland, and we found De Lisle Abbey. Henry VIII -seized it, drove the monks out, and gave it to a -Sir Gilbert de Lisle--not my father, but one long -before him. So you see, Aunt Patience, it was -stolen land, and, what is worse, there was a curse -upon it; the De Lisles were to be driven out by fire -and sword, and so we have been. Let things be as -they are, Aunt Patience, and let us live at Holt Farm -and be happy once again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not think I wish for anything better, Agnes. -It is for you, my child," said Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure I don't want it," said Agnes. "Let us -go back as soon as we can, Aunt. I have a sort of -feeling that something dreadful is going to happen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is because you are tired, and London is -strange to you now," said Patience. "Lie down -and rest, then we will go out, and, as your heart -is set upon it, I will enquire about the Newbolts; -they may be dead or gone away from London."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The knowledge they desired came to them quite -unexpectedly. Martha was by no means sorry to -find herself amongst old acquaintances. She had -already been out and about, gossiping here and -there. Amongst other scraps of knowledge, she -had learnt much concerning the Newbolts. Dame -Newbolt, she was told, always lived near Newgate. -She was looked upon as a guardian angel. "She -works there night and day," they told her, "preaching -and teaching, and when the prisoners chance to -come out she succours them. Men and women alike -worship the ground she treads on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Mistress Ann, her daughter, what has -become of her?" Martha had asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She lives in a mean lodging-house near the Old -Bailey, over against Newgate, and but for her, her -mother would well-nigh starve. But Mistress Ann -will not suffer it; she makes her take her food, she -fetches her from the prison, and brings her home at -night. They say her devotion knows no bounds. -She is never weary, never goes abroad save once -and again when my Lord Craven fetches her, and -insists on taking them both in his barge for a breath -of fresh air, or driving them out into the country -beyond St. Giles'. My lord is as good to her as -a father. Ah, there are queer people in the world," -said the speaker, "but the queerest are sometimes -the best, and my Lord Craven is one of them. He -has seen many things in his time, and has succoured -many people. I doubt much whether the Stuarts -would have been able to hold their own but for his gold."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you heard of Reginald, the colonel's son?" -asked Martha.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes; he comes and goes. He has joined -Prince Rupert, and is half the time at sea with the -White Squadron."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Primed with all this news, Martha hastened back -to Somerset House, and poured it all out afresh into -the eager ears of Patience and Agnes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then we will go this afternoon and find Ann," -said Agnes; "shall we, Aunt Patience?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She lives in a bad part of the town," said -Martha. "There are rumours that there have been -some cases of the plague in the by-ways round -Newgate. It would be well to be careful. I know not -how it is," continued Martha, "but people seem -anxious. There are men who go about preaching -that the times are so evil, that the Lord will sweep -London off the face of the earth because of its sins."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As for the plague, I do not think we need be -alarmed," said Patience; "there are always some -cases in London, I am told. It only affects the -very poor and the unclean. Last year I remember -Mr. Ewan telling me that there were a few cases, -just three, but it did not spread; the winter checked -it. No, I do not think we need be anxious; besides, -it would be of no use. What is to be will be. We -shall not be long in London, I hope." And with that -the subject dropped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was late in the afternoon when they sallied -forth. Even then the heat was so intense, and -the air so dry, that they decided they would take -a barge and go down to Blackfriars, land there, and -find their way to the Old Bailey. Martha went -with them, because she knew the way better than -they did. When they landed from the barge, it was -but a little distance across the Fleet until they -gained the narrow streets leading to the Old Bailey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the summer night, with all the refuse of the -day lying about waiting for the night scavengers to -pass their rounds, the stench which arose from many -a foul heap was noisome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patience and Agnes held their kerchiefs to their -faces. Fresh from the sweet moors and the scented -flowers, they were the more susceptible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fit for swine!" muttered Martha behind them. -"Talk of the plague! The dirt is enough to breed -any amount of plagues." And she was right. It -was the dirt and uncleanliness which was about to -cost thousands of lives. For the last ten years the -plague had been raging in Europe. In Genoa 60,000 -persons died of it; in Holland, in the years 1663 and -1664, upwards of 50,000 people died of plague in -Amsterdam alone; and yet during all these years -London had been singularly free.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The origin of the plague has been much discussed. -Some authorities imputed its arrival in London to -have been caused by bales of merchandise from -Holland which came originally from the Levant, -where it was quite usual to sell the clothes of those -who had died of plague at once, without disinfecting -them; according to others, it was introduced by the -Dutch prisoners of war. In any case, we may -attribute its spread to the uncleanliness of London, -which, we are told by contemporary writers, was -comparable to that of Oriental cities at the present -day. The disease gradually increased because there -was everything to encourage it to do so, especially in -a squalid neighbourhood and among the poor. For -this reason it was called "the poor's plague".</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Those who lived on the river in ships or barges -were free of it; those in the houses on London Bridge -were also little affected. Probably the slowness with -which it gained ground in London was owing in a -great measure to the beautiful streams of flowing -water which intersected the city--the Fleet, the -Walbrook, &c. At all events, it was not until the autumn -of 1664 that a few isolated cases were observed in the -neighbourhood of St. Martin's, St. Giles', and Charing -Cross. The winter of that same year happened to -be a very severe one, which checked it, and nothing -more was heard of the plague until this month of -May, 1665. Then one or two cases were reported, -but so few that they excited but little attention; -many, doubtless, of the inhabitants had not even -heard of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, as now, such things were hushed up for fear -of creating a scare, so that with perfect equanimity -Patience and her companion walked along the very -streets which were soon to be the centre of that -terrible epidemic. They came at last to the house -which had been described to Martha. It was at the -top of the street, almost opposite Newgate, and was -entered by a low oak door which gave into a passage, -beyond which lay a court-yard, in which were outside -staircases giving access to wooden balconies leading -into the tenements. Martha had been told that -Mistress Newbolt lived at the front, almost at the top of -the house, and that her rooms were reached by an -interior staircase. So they stumbled up in the dark, -until at last they came to a landing in which was a -small window, which Patience was thankful to see -wide open, but which, on this hot evening, seemed, -instead of cooling the air, rather to let in heat and -bad odours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The three stood wiping their faces, Martha -panting. Suddenly a door opened, and a voice, which -Agnes recognized at once, said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are you? What are you doing here? My -mother is sleeping; you will waken her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes went forward instantly, threw her arms -round the girl, saying:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ann, do you not know me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Know you!" repeated Ann. "Is it Agnes or her -spirit? Surely in her body she would not come here, -and yet how I have longed for her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should I not come, if you are here?" said -Agnes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must go," said Ann. "Go quickly! I cannot -let you in; I dare not. My mother came home an -hour ago. All day and all night she has been in the -prison. Do you know what I have done? I have -taken her clothes and burnt them, they were so foul. -I stood for hours waiting for her outside the gates, -and when she came forth she dropped down like one -dead, and I carried her home in my arms. If you -could see her, she is almost a skeleton! Ah me! what -will the end be?" And, covering her face with -her hands, she wept.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will see her," said Patience. "We have come -here to help you, Ann, and we will help you, have no -fear, child. Stay with Martha, Agnes. Now, Ann, -show me the way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann hesitated. "You do not understand," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then it is time I did," answered Patience. "Take -me to your mother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she spoke she looked at Ann. Could this be -the same girl she had known so fresh and blooming? -She seemed to have grown taller, and her face was -sallow and thin; she might have been any age, she -looked so worn and anxious. She was scrupulously -neat in a linen gown, with a white apron and a -muslin kerchief folded across her bosom; over her -head she wore a sort of linen wrapper, which hid all -her hair, leaving only a small band on either side of -her forehead. She had adopted this dress because -she was able thus to keep herself clean amidst so -much foulness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes still held on to Ann, and pleaded!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May I not go too, Aunt Patience?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, my child, one of us is enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still she would not let go of Ann's hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kiss me, dear," she said; and Ann stooped and -kissed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was so long since any lips had touched hers -that it brought tears to her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait here," she said, "I will come back." And -she passed into the room with Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is curious how, in times of great excitement, we -see everything so clearly; even the smallest details -strike us. Patience noted that the first room they -entered was comparatively well furnished and -spotlessly clean. It was evidently the living room, with -tables and chairs, a dresser, and a few articles of -luxury which had been brought from the old home. -They passed through this into another room, which -served as bed-room for Ann and her mother. There -was a small fire in the hearth, notwithstanding the -great heat. Ann pointed to it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The doctor told me to have it always, to purify -the air," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A great four-poster bed of carved oak occupied -the middle of the room. It had once been curtained -round, but the curtains were gone now, and Patience -saw, lying upon the white pillows, a face which might -well have been that of a dead woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can it be Dame Newbolt?" she thought. The -closed eyes were sunk in the sockets; the features -stood out sharp and hard, yellow as parchment; the -hair, parted on the forehead, was thin and snowy -white; and the hands, which rested on the coverlet, -were like the hands of a skeleton.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Ann," exclaimed Patience, "how could you -let her get into this condition?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How could I help it?" said the girl, bursting into -tears. "I have watched over her, I have fed her, I -have stood outside the prison gates waiting, always -waiting, but she has paid no heed to me. Had it -not been for my Lord Craven I should have had no -food to give her, for she would spare me no money. -I have known her go for days, eating nothing but -a crust of bread. More than once the jailers have -brought her here, carrying her in their arms. It was -of no use, on the morrow she was up and about, and -with them again; even as you see her she has still -great strength."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is wonderful," said Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Though they were speaking loudly, Mistress Newbolt -did not hear them. She did not move; indeed, -one could hardly hear her breathe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She will sleep like that for twelve hours at least," -said Ann, "longer perhaps; then she will wake up -and eat what I shall have prepared for her; then -she will go back to the prison, and I shall not see her -again for perhaps twenty-four hours, when I shall -bring her home, or one of the warders will. It is a -terrible life, so terrible, I wonder how she lives at all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you, you poor thing?" said Patience, taking -Ann's hand in hers, then stooping over the sleeper -she added, "She will die."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, she will not," answered Ann. "Good Doctor -Bohurst, whom Lord Craven sent to visit her, says -she will not die, that she has more vitality than many -a younger woman, and that these long sleeps restore -her completely, only I have to feed her. See," she -continued, and going to a table she took up a bottle, -poured a little of the contents into a spoon, and held -it to her mother's lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without waking, she just sucked it down like a -child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There," said Ann, "in two hours I shall give it -her again, and so on until she wakes. Then she will -eat and drink. It is a wondrous life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long has this been going on?" asked Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For many months," answered Ann; "but of late -it has been much worse, for the prison is fuller than -it ever was, and disease is rampant there. Then," -lowering her voice, she added, "they say there has -been a case of the plague. If it be so, and that foul -disease break out within those walls, God only knows -what will happen! The prisoners themselves are in -terror of it. I think they will go mad with fright."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you?" said Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I try not to think of it," she answered quietly; -"what is the use? Come, let us go into the other -room; Agnes may come in there, may she not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you think there is no danger," said Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is nothing infectious here," she said. "You -see all the windows are open, and either I burn my -mother's clothes, or old Doris takes them away and -washes them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well," said Patience, and Agnes and Martha -were admitted. They sat together round the tables -and Ann learnt what had brought them to London.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You would have done better to have stayed -away," she said; "one never knows what may -happen, and there are strange signs in the heavens. -People say London is accursed, and will be destroyed -because of its great sin. Have you seen the comet?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, not yet," answered Patience; "I shall not -linger long in London. I wish we could take you -away with us, Ann!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can I leave my mother?" she answered; -"and Reginald is away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her head drooped on her hands as she spoke; her -spirit seemed broken.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen, Ann," said Patience, "I will come -to-morrow with Martha and fetch you out; you shall -spend the whole day with us. We will go down the -river. You shall breathe sweet, country air; it will -strengthen you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It will, indeed!" said Ann. "I think I am -cowardly because I am so much alone. But now you -must be gone. It is getting late, and this -neighbourhood is not safe at night; indeed, you must not -go back by the river. Go to Holborn and find a -coach there, so that you can be driven back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alarmed, Patience rose quickly. "Yes, we will -go, Ann," she said; and they made their way out, -down the stairs into the street. They had not gone -far when they were accosted by a gentleman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madam," he said, looking at Patience, "this is -no place for such as you at this time in the evening."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have just been told so, sir," said Patience, -"but I am a stranger to London. Cannot I procure -a coach?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he answered sharply. "Step this way; you -shall have mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patience looked at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thank you kindly, sir," she said, "but before -I can accept your offer, I must know who you are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am Lord Craven," he answered; "you can trust me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without another word he walked on in front of -them to the top of the street, where a coach was -waiting. He signed to the driver, who wore the -Craven livery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My man will take you wherever you choose, -madam," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would be driven to Somerset House," said -Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He started and looked askance at her. She understood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You gave me your name, I must give you mine," -she said. "I am Mistress Patience Beaumont and -this young girl is Agnes De Lisle, my niece. We -are the queen-dowager's guests."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Craven uttered an exclamation of surprise -and swept them a low bow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been fortunate in meeting you," he said; -"but take my advice and do not wander out so late -at night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have been to see a protégé of yours," said -Patience, "Ann Newbolt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, I am glad!" he answered; "she needs -friends, poor thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he signed to his valet to open the coach door, -and helped Agnes and Patience to mount, for the -step was high. Martha followed, and they were -driven quickly in the direction of Somerset House.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-great-plague"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">The Great Plague</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Again and again we read of miraculous signs in the -heavens before some great disaster befalls a country. -A fiery sword is said to have hung over the ill-fated -city of Jerusalem for long months before its -destruction. At the time of which we are writing a great -blazing star, probably a comet, appeared in the -heavens over the city of London, terrifying the -inhabitants. Crowds of people would turn out at night -into the open fields to see this wonderful thing, and -would go back, with terror in their hearts, feeling -assured that it was an omen of evil. Every night it -appeared, a great, blazing star hanging in the -firmament. Gradually, very gradually, the plague crept -into the city; so slowly did it come, that only those -whose business it was to note the mortality were -aware of the gradual increase of deaths. It began -first in the heart of the city, then it spread to the -suburb of St. Giles'. Just two or three isolated cases -against which no precaution was taken; indeed, they -caused but little alarm. There are always pessimists, -and people do not heed them. A small evil, therefore, -remains unchecked until it becomes a great evil; -then, and then alone, when it is too late, men take -note of it. Such was the case at the present time. -At Whitehall feasting and revelling were the order -of the day throughout this month of May. The king -and his court were to be seen in St. James's Park, -gilded coaches rolled through the narrow streets of -the city, despite the overpowering heat. It was as if -that blazing comet, unseen by day, burnt the land up. -The animals suffered fearfully: horses fell down dead, -dogs had to be killed because they went mad. Even -before the month of June streams were running dry, -there was no rain, no moisture in the air, and gradually, -striking men down by ones and twos, the scourge -crept on, until at last people awoke to the knowledge -that the fell disease was in their midst.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One morning Queen Henrietta summoned Patience to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not care for it to be generally known," she -said, "but it is settled that the court is going to -Oxford. You, of course, will follow; make your -preparations as quickly as you can. We shall -probably leave here the day after to-morrow; it is to be -done quietly not to scare the people."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it necessary we should accompany your -majesty?" said Patience. "With your permission, I -think we would rather go home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The queen turned haughtily towards her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why must you always oppose me, Patience?" -she asked. "Why do you wish to bury the child -alive in that out-of-the-way place? The king is well -disposed towards her. The Marquis of Orford has -spoken of her with admiration. I am set upon -making a marriage between them. If you do not choose -to come, at least give me the child."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I promised her mother I would never part from -her," said Patience, "and so far I have kept my -word. If your majesty insists upon her going to -Oxford, I will go also."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mean to say that you wish to keep her in -this infectious atmosphere?" said the queen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not longer than I can possibly help," answered -Patience; "but your majesty must know that the -plague is confined so far to certain quarters of the -city. Here, on the river front, we run but little -danger." Then, approaching nearer Henrietta, she -said in a low voice:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will not his majesty's gay court at Oxford be -worse for my child than the plague? Is not her soul -more precious than her body? and that Marquis of -Orford of whom you speak, is he worthy to touch the -hem of her gown? Nay, let her be, your majesty; -sooner let her live and die a maid than be coupled -with such a man; and if she be doomed to die, then, -at least, let me give her back to her mother -'unspotted from the world'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not often Patience let herself go, but at -the present moment she spoke with intense earnestness, -almost with exaltation, and she possessed -more influence over Henrietta Maria than any other -member of her household.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The queen kept silence, her head resting on her -hands, and, to Patience's surprise, tears fell on the -table. She knew that she had hit hard. The mother's -heart was aching at the thought of her own daughter -whom she had given up to that bad man, Philip, -Duke of Orleans. She knew well what she suffered; -could she condemn another girl to the same fate!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take her away, Patience," she said impetuously, -"take her away, and may the Lord have you both in -His keeping!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patience knelt at the queen's side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Forgive me," she said, "if I have hurt you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The queen held out her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go," she said, "whilst I am in the mood, and do -not let me see the child again or I may repent giving -her up to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That you will surely never do," said Patience, -and, rising, she curtsied and left the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In her own mind Patience was sorely troubled how -to act. To go back at once to Westmorland would -have been the most natural thing; but then there was -Ann Newbolt, how could she leave that girl alone in -the worst part of the city? She did not herself -believe that there was much danger for any -inhabitant of Somerset House, because it gave on to the -river, and so far all the habitations near the river, -even the houses on London Bridge, had remained -unaffected; also, the dwellers in ships and barges -had escaped infection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If the worst come to the worst," she thought, -"we will take the barge and go down the river; but the -great thing will be not to let the child get frightened."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whilst she was still cogitating Martha came into -the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Madam," she said, "everybody is leaving the -palace; what are we to do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have just come from the queen, Martha," said -Patience. "She desired me to pack our belongings -and follow her to Oxford, whither she is going with -the court. What say you? Shall I do so? Shall I -thrust Agnes into the midst of all the profligacy and -all the evil which dwells in the king's house?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For God's sake, no!" said Martha. "It is the -talk of the court that our young lady is to be wedded -to the Marquis of Orford, but you will not let it be. -We servants know more of what goes on in the great -houses than you do, and he is not worthy of her; -besides, she is only a child."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are right, Martha," said Patience; "I will -not let her go. I have told the queen so, and she -has consented that I shall keep her with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is well," said Martha, her face brightening -up, "only we must guard her, for I have heard that -the Marquis of Orford has set his heart on wedding -her, and the king has promised him the De Lisle -estates, forfeited by Colonel Newbolt. They were to -have been sold at once to the highest bidder to pay -the fines and law expenses, &c., but the king has -been so engrossed with his pleasures that he has let -the matter slip. Now, however, he has made up his -mind not to sell, but to dower our Lady Agnes with -what is by right her own."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you know all this?" asked Patience, -surprised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know it from Peter Kemp, who is at Whitehall, -and hears all the gossip in the ante-chambers and in -the servants' department; he also knows Jefferson, -Lord Orford's first valet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps the king will change his mind now that -I will not suffer Agnes to go to Oxford," said Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Martha shrugged her shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We shall have to be careful," she said, "for the -marquis is not a man to be thwarted, and if he has -set his heart on the Lady Agnes, he will surely win or -take her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think we had better start at once for Westmorland," -said Patience; "it seems to me the only -place where we can live in safety."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Martha shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's just what he will expect you to do," she -said. "And as he has more horses than we have -and more serving men, he will surely follow us, and -who will protect us on the road? There are many -desolate places between London and Westmorland."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely he would not dare assault us?" said Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Madam!" said Martha, "he will stand at -naught. If he has set his heart on the Lady Agnes, -he will leave no stone unturned to possess her. You -must devise some other plan for her safety."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am loath to believe all you say; but leave me, -Martha, I must think it over."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The following day the court started on its way to -Oxford, and the queen announced to the king that -the Lady Agnes De Lisle would not accompany her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is ailing," the queen said, "and she is rather -young still for all the dissipations of court life. Let -my Lord Orford wait till the scare of this plague is -over. Patience Beaumont is going to take Agnes -back to Westmorland to restore her health, which -the heat of London has injured."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never saw a brighter face than the Lady Agnes's -yesterday," said the king. "She was the star of -your suite, ma mère. I do not think much ails her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Possibly she was flushed and excited," said the -queen, "and Patience has my permission to take her -away. I cannot go back upon my word."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I have not said the last word either," said -Charles angrily, "and my Lord Orford has had no -say in the matter at all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He had better let his suit drop for the present," -said Henrietta; "when we come back from Oxford -it will be time enough." And with that she left the -room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Charles shrugged his shoulders; he never opposed -his mother's will.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Lord Orford was informed of Agnes's -defection he was in a white rage, but he gave no -outward sign of it, only that night he was closeted -for a long time with his man, Jefferson, and the -next day he himself followed the king to Oxford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The palace was very silent; indeed, the whole city -of London was beginning to be what we should call -hushed. The plague was gaining rapidly. The -citizens stopped their trading, and every man looked -with fear at his fellow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the gardens belonging to noblemen's houses, -which in many cases sloped down towards the -river, the flowers were in full bloom. It was the -season for roses, and they had never been so plentiful, -but no one gathered them, for fear of infection, -no one dared even to inhale their sweet perfume; -people went about with a bunch of rue and -wormwood in their hands, for these herbs were thought -to ward off contagion; and yet this was only the -beginning of what was to be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a certain cruelty in the egoistical way in -which men strove to protect themselves. For -example, if it was known that someone had died in a -certain house of the plague, no matter the number -of the inhabitants who were still resident there, a -red cross was painted over the door with these -words in great letters over it, "Lord, have mercy -upon us!" and watchmen with halberds stood on -guard before it to prevent anyone either leaving the -house or entering it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All the inhabitants of that house were thus shut -off from the outside world, lest they should carry -infection; semi-starvation and death therefore stared -them in the face. This was in the early days. It -was a great mistake, for the houses were thus made -the centres of disease; later it was found impossible -to carry this plan into effect, and it was therefore -openly ignored.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few noblemen and gentlemen had the courage to -remain in London and face the evil. Among these -was Lord Craven. We are told that his servants -packed his luggage and brought his coaches into the -court-yard of his house; but to their dismay he told -them they could go if they chose, every one of them, -but he should remain and do what he could to stay -the evil which surrounded them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A man can die but once," he said. He had faced -death ofttimes on the battlefield, he was not going -to turn his back on it now; and, brave man that he -was, he set about his work with diligence. He -founded a kind of cottage hospital for the -plague-stricken in the Soho; he also gave a piece of land -for burial purposes in the same neighbourhood. He -himself remained at Craven House.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A day or two after the court left London, Patience -sent for him and told him of her decision.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now," she said, "I must get out of this -place as quickly as possible, for if anything happens -to the child I shall never forgive myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And yet," said Lord Craven, "this is the only -place in which you are free from the Marquis of -Orford. I know the man. He is but watching his -opportunity; if he see you start to go north he will -follow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is what old Martha said," answered Patience, -"and she is a wise woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is right. Remain where you are for the -present, keep the windows open on to the river side -by night and by day, and do not let the Lady Agnes -go abroad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But she is so anxious about Ann Newbolt!" said -Patience. "I found her weeping yesterday because I -would not let her go and would not go myself to the -Old Bailey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You did well," said Lord Craven; "the disease -is spreading from there right up to St. Giles'. Rest -assured I will bring you news of Ann as often as I -can. The authorities will not let her mother leave -the prison now because of infection. She spends -her days, ay, her nights, tending those wretched -creatures, preaching to them of the world to come, -closing their dying eyes amidst the most frightful -agonies, and seeing to their burial."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And she lives through it all!" said Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, marvellous to tell, she lives through it all," -he answered, "and is but little changed. She seems -to have no material body, to live in and by the spirit. -The poor creatures cling to her, and she has no fear -of them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is the plague very bad at Newgate?" asked Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bad!" said Lord Craven. "They carry the bodies -out at night that they may not be seen. What is -worse, the poor creatures go mad with fear, and can -hardly be restrained from killing one another."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is terrible," said Patience. "And Ann, what -is she doing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is in her own two rooms with that old hag -who waits upon her, and I have entreated her on no -account to move out of it," said Lord Craven.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But if she came to us," said Patience, "surely -that were better for her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She will not hear of it. She says she would be too -far from her mother; now she can have news of her -continuously. The old woman goes backwards and -forwards, and I go to her. So long as the plague does -not enter her dwelling-place, she will remain there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And when it does it will be too late," said -Patience; "they will not let her out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We shall see," said Lord Craven.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At that moment Agnes came into the room. Except -that she was very pale, which might be attributed to -the great heat, there was no change in her appearance. -She wore a thin, white linen gown, with long, -open sleeves; her beautiful golden hair was gathered -up away from her neck because of the heat, and she -had sandals on her feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, my lord," she exclaimed, "this is truly -terrible! Why cannot we go back to Westmorland -and take Ann with us?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because, my child," said Lord Craven, "the -roads just now are not safe." He had to make some -such excuse because she had not been told anything -concerning Lord Orford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought the plague was in London, not on the -roads," she answered peevishly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But there are other things besides the plague, my -child," said Lord Craven. "All sorts and kinds of -people have left the city, bad as well as good. We -must let this first rush go by, and then you shall go. -In this heat you could not travel," he continued. -"The horses could only carry you a few miles at a -time, evening and morning. It would take you an -infinitely long time to reach your haven of rest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You call it by its right name," said Agnes; "If -is a haven of rest. I wish we were there, Aunt -Patience." And she sat down on a stool beside her -aunt, laid her head on her lap with the air of a spoilt -child, and wept.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We will go as soon as ever we can," said -Patience, stroking her hair; "and now, see if you -cannot find some of that fruit which we brought in -yesterday from the country. Lord Craven will, I -know, take it to Ann. It has been well covered up, -so that no impure air can have reached it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes sprang up, ran across the room to a cupboard, -and drew forth a basket in which there were -some luscious strawberries, red currants, and wall -peaches. She packed them carefully in a little -basket, and took them to Lord Craven, with her -pretty childish air, saying:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell Ann, with my dear love, that they are the -only things worth eating. I would she could come -to me, as you will not let me go to her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She shall come to you as soon as possible," he -answered, "but at present she cannot;" and with -that he rose, bade both Patience and her farewell, -and left them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let us go on to the terrace, aunt," said Agnes; -"maybe we shall get a breath of air from the river." So -they went down the magnificent staircase, through -the gorgeous banqueting-hall, on to the terrace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Though the day was over and the sun had set, the -heat was beyond description. The whole city seemed -to glow with the after-math. The girl was tired, -and quietly, without knowing it, she began again to -weep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh Agnes, my child, what is it?" said Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know," she answered; "my soul is heavy -within me. I am afraid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patience did not ask her what she was afraid of; -she knew only too well she was afraid of everything. -She put her arm round her and talked to her quietly -of life and death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a little time the child's soul was comforted, -and Patience took her by the hand and led her to -her own chamber; as she could not sleep, she sat -with her far into the night, and only when the day -was dawning did she leave her.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="lost"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Lost</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Suddenly out of her sleep Agnes woke to full -consciousness. She heard distinctly the cry of the -watchman call out three o'clock in the morning as he passed -his rounds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned her face to the window and looked out--the -sky was blood-red. A great horror seized her. -She sprang out of bed and began putting on her -clothes. She hardly knew what she was doing. One -door in her room opened into Patience's, the other -on to a landing leading to the grand staircase. She -felt she must have air--she could not stay in that -closed-up room; so, slipping her clothes on and -wrapping a light cloak round her, she drew the hood -over her head and left the room. She had not gone -far when she was confronted by one of the watchers, -men told off to guard the queen's house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sight of the girl walking about surprised him. -He thought she must be one of the maids and spoke -to her coarsely, laying his hand on her arm. Agnes -wrenched herself free and ran, as she thought, in -the direction from which she had come; but she had -mistaken her bearings and found herself in a small -turret-chamber at the farther end of the passage, in -which there was a winding staircase.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At that moment the remembrance of Ann came -to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They will not let me go to her, but I will go. I -cannot stay here," she thought; "I will go now at -once. Surely this staircase must lead somewhere!" And, -feeling in the darkness, she groped her way -to the bottom, where a gleam of light came from -a door which stood half-open. She remembered -having noticed this turret from the terrace one day, -when, to amuse herself, she had reconnoitred, and -she had discovered that it led out into a small courtyard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall find means of getting out into the street," -she thought, "and then I can easily find my way to -the Old Bailey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was not mistaken; the staircase gave into a -court-yard, at the farther end of which was an iron -gate. She had some difficulty in forcing the bolt back -and in pulling the gate open, but it yielded at last, -and, quick as lightning, she passed out into the street. -She had a sort of hunted feeling; she did not know -herself what drove her to act thus. She was as one -walking in her sleep. She was not naturally a -coward, nor even fearful, but at the present moment -a feeling of terror dominated her whole being.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she found herself alone in the deserted -streets she did not hesitate; she went straight -forward without reasoning, moved by some inexplicable -impulse. Here and there she saw the houses marked -with the red cross, with the words, "Lord, have -mercy upon us!" written in red letters over the doors, -and she shuddered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Supposing, when I reach Ann, I find her in such a -house, and cannot get to her!" she thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had gone some distance when she heard steps -following her. She dared not look back, but, hastening -her speed, turned up the street which led to the -Old Bailey. The steps came nearer and nearer, and -suddenly she was caught up, a cloth thrown over her -face, a hand pressed over her mouth, and a voice -said sharply:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lie quiet and you are safe; move and I will kill you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Instinctively she obeyed, and felt herself carried -she knew not whither.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Patience awoke a few hours later from a -restless sleep, her first thought was naturally for -Agnes. She rose, went into her room, and found it -empty. To call Martha, to rouse the whole house, -was the work of a few seconds. The house-watchman -told how he had met a girl in the gallery, and -how at sight of him she had fled; he could not tell -where she had disappeared to, indeed, for aught he -knew, it might have been a ghost. There were -ghosts in Somerset House. It was said that the -young Duke of Gloucester might be seen in the old -building gliding along the passages, down to the -terrace walk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patience had no such superstitions. If the man had -seen a girl, that girl, to her mind, must have been -Agnes. But how could she have got out of the house? -Why should she go? In the search that followed, -the door of the turret was found open, also the gate -in the court-yard. That was sufficient proof that she -must have gone out that way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A messenger was immediately sent to Lord -Craven, and throughout that day the search -continued, but no Agnes was forthcoming. Through -the deserted streets Patience wandered, indifferent -to all danger, searching for the child. She went to -Ann, and with tears told her what had happened; -and Ann came down, and they wandered together till -they reached St. Paul's. Then they entered the -church, knelt, and prayed, and wept, as did many -others, for there was nothing but weeping and -moaning throughout this afflicted city.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She will come back, surely she will come back!" -repeated Ann.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If she had gone forth of her own free will, I -should say yes," Patience answered; "but I am -persuaded she has not done so. Someone was lying in -wait for her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Those who sought for Agnes were many, but it -was all in vain. Martha wept and wrung her hands -in wild despair, but neither weeping nor moaning nor -prayers availed. Throughout that long summer day -and the night which followed, they sought but did -not find her. Hour after hour, day after day, the -search was continued, but in vain. The plague was -ever on the increase. At night long lines of coffins -were carried hastily by men through the city out to -some far-distant burial-place; even that did not long -suffice, and carts, with tingling bells on the horses' -heads, wound their way through the deserted streets, -men calling out as they went:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bring forth your dead, bring forth your dead!" -and the bodies, ofttimes in nothing but a winding -sheet, were tossed into the cart and carried forth to -the common pit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann still refused to go to Somerset House. She -would not leave the precincts of the prison, neither -could Patience go to her. They waited for their -loved ones in their homes, and Lord Craven went -and came between them--he was their only comforter, -their only guide. Never was a braver or more -honourable man; he had no fear of infection. He was -"in God's hands," he said, "to live or to die".</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All those who possibly could left the city. The -streets were deserted, but the churches were crowded. -A few ministers remained faithful to their duty, but -many, to their shame, fled. But there were found -other devoted men from the country to replace these -deserters, the churches were all thrown open, and -within their precincts was weeping and wailing. -"Surely the scourge was sent by God because of -their sins," people said, and their ministers bade -them repent, ay, in dust and ashes; therefore it came -to pass that men and women alike fell upon their -faces and made their humble confession to Almighty -God, praying for pardon and deliverance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still the disease continued to spread. The lord -mayor, the chief councillors, the physicians, all those -in authority, made laws, saw to the cleansing of the -city, and did their very utmost to check the frightful -ravages of the plague, but throughout the month of -August it raged unremittingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One morning a message came to Lord Craven -from Newgate to say that Mistress Newbolt had -departed that night, that her last hours had been -most edifying, that she had sung and prayed, and -glorified God even in the agony of death. He it was -who broke the news to Ann. In vain she asked for -a sign by which she might know it was her mother -who had died. The prison authorities answered it was -impossible. All she had possessed was destroyed, -and she was carried forth and buried in the common -pit, amongst the malefactors, the thieves, the -murderers, the cut-throats, whom she had tended.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus Ann found herself alone. Then she went to -Patience and the two dwelt together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you not both go north?" said Lord -Craven. "I see no end to our afflictions."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot go," said Patience. "If Agnes were to -come back and find me gone, what would she do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A message had been sent to the queen to tell her -what had happened, and her anger was very great -against Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you had let me have the child, she would have -been safe," she said; "now she is dead, or worse -than dead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Orford, when he heard the news, appeared -astounded. He would have gone up to London -himself, but the king would not permit him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My Lord Craven will do all that there is to be -done," he said.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Well, sirrah, what have you done with her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The only thing which in reason could be done, -my lord," answered a small, insignificant man, -almost a dwarf, who was known everywhere as the -Marquis of Orford's factotum.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was intensely ugly, with an extraordinary look -of cunning in his eyes when you saw them, but that -was not often--they were small, with heavy lids which -were seldom raised, and if they were, it was with a -sidelong glance. He was standing now before Lord -Orford in a room which that nobleman had succeeded -in hiring at Oxford, and for which he paid an -enormous price, for the town was crowded to excess, and -yet was kept so cleanly by the authorities that the -plague had not come near it. The lovely city with -its colleges and chapels, the walks in the surrounding -country, the beautiful river upon which the boats -went and came all day long in gay succession, made -of it a most delightful resort, and but for the daily -reports from London, the life led by the court would -have been ideal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give an account of yourself," said Lord Orford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I set Ben Davies to watch his opportunity," said -the man, "bidding him never lose sight of the lady. -Ben is a bargeman, and has a craft which he takes -from London Bridge to Holland or to France as he -chooses. His wife, two children, and a boy, live -on board. It is by no means a bad craft, and -Mistress Ben is an uncommonly cleanly, thrifty -woman, so I just told him that if ever he could -catch the lady and take her on board, and then -strike off to Holland with her, he might reckon on -a hundred pounds."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You did not mention my name?" said his lordship.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not quite such a fool, though I look it," -answered the man, with a short laugh. "No; he -thinks I am doing business on my own account. He -took it in good part. 'It's a service you're doing the -lady,' I explained; 'she has a whim for staying in -London because of her lover, but it's a pest-hole, it -will be a good deed if you can get her out.' And so -he watched and watched, and one morning at dawn, -as he was passing by Somerset House, he saw a girl -come running out and making her way down the -Strand. There was no one else to be seen, the streets -were deserted, so he dodged her to find out who she -was, and as good luck would have it, her hood fell -back from her face, and he saw that it was none other -than the Lady Agnes I had pointed out to him one -day. Then it was all quickly done: he caught her up, -took her in his arms, and, muffling her face, carried -her down to the barge. It was in the Old Bailey he -got her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And where is she now?" asked Lord Orford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Coasting about, maybe on her way to Holland," -said the man. "At all events she is out of that -pest-hole; you ought to be satisfied, my lord."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Orford walked up and down the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you any further orders, sir?" asked the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only that I have been a fool. I should have -done better to have left her alone," said the marquis; -"the queen's moving heaven and earth to find her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah well, sir!" said the man, "when the plague's -over we can drop her at Somerset House again--she -will be none the wiser. And Ben Davies's wife -will keep her comfortable; she'll take no harm."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But that does not answer my purpose," said -Lord Orford. "I wanted to marry her, and I see -very little likelihood of doing so under present -circumstances."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you can marry her right enough!" said his -factotum. "You just tell her you did it for love, -to save her life. Girls are soft. Now will you pay -me the money? These sort of folk won't wait, you -know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose not," said the marquis, "but I have -precious little coin; however, what I have you shall -have." And, putting his hand in his pocket, he took -out a bag of money and threw it on the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Count and see how much there is," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dwarf emptied the bag on the table, and with -his long thin fingers counted the gold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There are ten pieces missing," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you must find them," answered the marquis, -"for I am sucked dry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose I must put it down to your account," -said the man; "it's already a pretty long one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was reckoning on the girl's dower to pay it -up," answered Lord Orford, "so you see it's as much -to your interest as mine that I should have her. You -know she is sole heiress of the De Lisles, and the -king dowers her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dwarf stuck his tongue into his cheek and -muttered, "That's not much of a recommendation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you run a risk and so do I; it is for you -to make the matter sure," said Lord Orford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't make her say 'Yes' if she says 'No'," -grumbled the dwarf.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm of opinion you have done wrong in carrying -her off to Holland. I never bade you do so. I told -you to hide her away," said Lord Orford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure she'd have got the plague if I had not sent -her to sea," answered the dwarf.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I only wish we could get her into the queen's -hands," said Lord Orford, "that would settle the -matter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If that's all you want, it can be easily managed," -answered the dwarf; "leave it to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must, for I can't help myself," muttered Lord -Orford. "Now get you gone; I'm sick of you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man shuffled the gold into his pockets, and -with a "Good-day, sir!" went his way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the dwarf was gone, Lord Orford paced -up and down the room, muttering between his teeth:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gone to Holland! How am I to get at her there? -The fool was mad to imagine such a thing. If it -leaks out that I have had a hand in this business, it -will be to my discredit, unless, as the fool advises, -I say I did it out of my great love for her, to save -her from the plague; but it will cost me a hundred -pounds and more, perhaps, for hush-money. However, -matters must take their course now. They'll -not land in Holland at present, for no barge from -London will be allowed to put into port; in the -meantime I can consider what is to be done." And -with the natural carelessness which belonged to the -habitués of Charles II's court, he strove to forget -the matter altogether.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Weeks went by and he was surprised at having no -news from his factotum.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not until his return to London with the -court that he learnt that the man had died of the -plague.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So as far as he was concerned the matter ended. -Later, seeing the course events took, he was too -wise a man to rake up ugly stories. The dwarf dead, -there was only the bargeman to reckon with, and he -was ignorant even of the existence of my Lord -Orford. So the bubble burst, and he had to look -about for another bride to pay his debts! Besides, -Reginald Newbolt was now Prince Rupert's friend, -and it was therefore unlikely he would be dispossessed -of his estates even for Lady Agnes De Lisle. The -wheel of fortune had turned.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="on-the-track"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">On the Track</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Pestilence on land, battle on the seas! The -jealousy between the English merchants and the -Dutch was a matter of long standing, and on both -sides there had been a clamouring for war. It came -in due time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the third of June, just when the plague was -at its height, the Duke of York encountered the -Dutch fleet off Lowestoft. A terrible battle took -place. It is said that eight or ten thousand men -were killed and eighteen ships blown up--this was -on the Dutch side; but on the English side also there -were many disabled ships and many wounded men -cast ashore. Had the English admiral chosen, he -might have followed the Dutch up in their flight, -and the war would have come to a speedy end, -but instead an order came from the Duke of York -to slacken sail, and so the Dutch escaped to Texel. -The neglect and misery of the seamen of the royal -navy, who were cast ashore to go where they would, -without money, food, or clothing, was piteous. A -great number found their way to London, thinking -that there, at least, they would get their pay from -the admiralty, but there was no money to be had for -the arrears of payment. The Commons had voted -the king a large sum for war expenses, and he had -squandered the whole of it on his own pleasures.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The result was that these men, to whom England -owed her safety, lay about the streets and in hovels, -and many of them died of the plague.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reginald Newbolt had enlisted under Prince -Rupert. He was not in this fray because Rupert's -squadron had sailed to the West Indies. When the -news of the plague reached Reginald, he had written -entreating his mother to go to Newbolt Manor for -her own safety and for Ann's, but naturally he -received no answer, and knew little or nothing of the -events which were taking place. He had risen to -high favour with the prince, for on many occasions -he had distinguished himself, and was always at -hand when there was any deed of daring to be -accomplished. Indeed, he and Prince Rupert agreed in -many ways, and Reginald's natural good sense served -as a check on the hastiness of the almost pirate -prince. Rupert had found there was little doing save -pleasure at King Charles's court, and for that reason -he entered the navy, and made for himself a name as -the admiral of the White Squadron. Every man in -those days was a lord himself on the high seas, and -any ship which did not hoist the English colours was -a legitimate prey to the numberless pirate vessels -which floated here, there, and everywhere. Many -merchant vessels disappeared with their cargoes of -wealth, and no questions were asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a wild life and a daring one; but when -Rupert heard of the war with the Dutch, and a -possible war with the French, he set sail for the -west. Neither he nor Reginald had any idea of the -ravages the plague was making until they neared -England, and then the accounts were so horrible -that Rupert refused to allow any man to land.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was in vain that Reginald, as they sailed along -the coast, entreated to have a small boat and be -allowed to go ashore by himself. The prince was -firm, and all knew his discipline was severe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you attempt to go I will have you put into irons," -he said to Reginald; and he was certain the Prince -would be as good as his word, so he was obliged -to be satisfied with writing to Lord Craven and to -Ann. But his letters never reached their destination.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before he left England Agnes had gone north, he -knew not whither; the secret had not been told him, -and he had been greatly hurt, but now he was glad, -for he was assured of her safety. So the days went -by, and throughout the months of July and August -the terrible scourge laid thousands low; but in the -beginning of September it began to lessen. Many -people had left the city and were encamped outside -it, but Patience and Ann had remained in Somerset -House, and had even gone forth amongst the -sufferers and tended them. Their good works, their -many deeds of charity, had made them well known. -Without ceasing, using every means in their power, -they had sought to trace Agnes, but in vain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were assisted in this by young Delarry, -who, when he had heard of Agnes's disappearance -and Mrs. Newbolt's death, had returned to London -and sought Ann and Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You cannot remain here," he said. "Let me take -you away out of London, if it be but to a village in -the suburbs." But Patience had refused to go, and -Ann remained with her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If the child be still living," said Patience, "it is -here she will come to find us. I am persuaded Lord -Orford is at the bottom of this thing. He knows -who Agnes is; he knows that the De Lisle property -will be hers, and he himself is a beggar. The queen -told me as much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he has gained nothing by her disappearance, -and I know for sure he has not heard of her -whereabouts," said Delarry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think you are wrong there," said Patience; -"he knows where she is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must find that out," said Delarry. "Now -I have come to London I cannot go back to Oxford; -I am in quarantine! As for the Lady Agnes, I fully -believe she has been taken out of the city and is in -safety. No one has any interest in her death; on the -contrary, her life is valuable, and, believe me, she -will not be attacked."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With this Patience had to be satisfied. The -devotion and the bravery which Ann showed under these -trying circumstances excited not only Delarry's -admiration, but increased the feeling of devotion -which had long existed in his heart for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was so simple and so brave, so devoutly -religious. Morning and evening, and ofttimes at -mid-day, he would meet her on her way to St. Paul's, and -they would go together and pray for the deliverance -of the nation, and listen to the preachers, who -upbraided men for their sins and besought them to -repent. It is not surprising if the link between -them grew to be strong, and so one day, finding -himself alone with her on the terrace, he asked her -to be his wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I shall have a right to do what I will for -you," he said, "in life or in death."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is no time for marrying or giving in -marriage," answered Ann.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not," he asked, "if it unites two souls -in good works? You are so utterly alone, having -neither father, nor mother, nor brother, no kith or -kin. I ask your leave to be all things to you. I -have no need to tell you that I love you; I prove it -by my desire to serve you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tears gathered in Ann's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Truly you have given me the best proof of love a -man can give," she answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her hand was resting on the stone parapet; he -laid his on it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," he said, "which is it to be? yea or nay?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann looked up at him; a glint of Irish mirth, -which she had not seen for many a day, lighted up -his eyes, She was tempted to say "Yea", but she -still hesitated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will give you your answer to-night," she said, -"after vespers. Now let us go and find Patience."</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 61%" id="figure-44"> -<span id="i-will-give-you-your-answer-to-night-she-said"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""I WILL GIVE YOU YOUR ANSWER TO-NIGHT," SHE SAID" src="images/img-200.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"I WILL GIVE YOU YOUR ANSWER TO-NIGHT," SHE SAID</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As you will," he answered; but he took her -hand, placed it on his arm, and they went together -to Patience's room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the door Delarry left her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Till to-night," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann went in to Patience, and, standing at the open -window looking over the deserted city, she told her -what Delarry had said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What think you?" asked Ann.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think," said Patience, "that life is so short, -that if something comes to gladden our hearts we do -well to accept it. This thing is a joy to you, is it -not, Ann?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To be George Delarry's wife? Oh, yes!" answered -Ann, and her face flushed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then take him," said Patience, "and thank God."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So that same evening, as she came down the steps -of St. Paul's, her hand sought Delarry's, and he -knew what his answer was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To find a minister, to go in the early morning to -plight their troth one to another, with only Patience -and Lord Craven as witnesses, was an easy matter, -and did not interfere with the work of the day which -followed after; only, as Patience had said, some of -the sadness passed out of their hearts, and joy crept -in. The knowledge of the tie which bound them, the -union of two in one, seemed to strengthen both their -hands and hearts for the work they had to accomplish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was decided that they should stay at Somerset -House with Patience because of that hope, which was -nevertheless growing vaguer and vaguer each day, -that Agnes would come home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few days later Delarry came in quite excited. -He found Patience and his young wife picking lint, -making bandages, and doing other things which were -necessary for their vast hospital. They never stopped -their labours, those two women, but when Ann looked -up with a smile to greet her husband, she saw -something in his face which startled her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What has happened?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He came and sat down beside her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have found a clue," he said. "It is only a little -one, but it may lead to something bigger."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About Agnes?" asked Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I suppose it is connected with her," he -answered. "I have followed up your idea of Lord -Orford being at the bottom of this affair, and just -now I met a creature I loathe sauntering down the -Fleet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who?" asked Ann.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Marquis of Orford's factotum," he answered, -"a scurvy little rascal, with a mind as crooked as his -body. He is not full-grown, a dwarf, or very nigh -one, with a growing hump and an evil countenance. -I accosted him and asked him where his master was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Where should he be,' he answered, 'save in his -master's company at Oxford?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'And why are you not with him?' I asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Since when, Mr. Delarry, are you my master's -keeper?' he answered. 'I am Lord Orford's -servant, not yours.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I'll keep my eye upon you until I find you out in -some dark deed,' I answered, 'and then I'll get you -hanged.' The man turned white to his lips, and -even as I spoke to him there came up another man -from behind, a bargeman. I know him, because he -happens to have taken me up to Gravesend more -than once. When he saw me talking to that little -imp, he turned suddenly and went back the way he -had come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I wish you good morning,' said the dwarf, -'there's Ben Davies waiting for me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I fired a shot at random: 'Is he in the plot?' I -asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'What plot?' he shrieked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I'll leave you to tell me that,' I answered, 'only -I warn you, if you brew evil you shall swing for -it.' Therewith I went off and left him to digest my words, -the real meaning of which I do not myself know." And -he laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, George," said Ann, "you may be all wrong! -How could they know anything about Agnes?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can I tell? The clue is faint, but there is a -connection."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are right," said Patience. "I shall always -believe Lord Orford is at the bottom of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So shall I," answered Delarry; "at all events, -we will follow that track."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Towards the middle of August Patience received -by special messenger a letter from the queen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am deeply grieved ", she wrote, "at having no -news from you. My own health is failing, my life -here does not please me. I am of no account at my -son's court, therefore I have decided that I will go -back once more to France, where I may possibly be -of some use to my daughter, and where the climate -at least suits me. If all things go well, I shall return -to England in the spring. In the meantime, send -me news of yourself and Agnes, but not while you -are in London, lest your letter should carry contagion. -I cannot understand why you remain in the city. I -much fear me the child is dead, and probably cast, -as so many others I hear are, into the common pit. -I have wept many tears over her; but then this world -is a world of sorrow, at least it has proved itself so -to me. England is a dreary place; I would I could -persuade you to join me and spend the rest of your -life at my side, for I have loved you and your sister -better than any other of my English so-called friends. -I had a letter from the little duchess a short time -since. She is well, and her child is well. She does -not speak of her husband--it is not worth while, we -know what he is--but she takes life philosophically, -and the King of France makes much of her. She -wrote very sadly concerning Agnes, blamed both you -and me for letting her remain in London; but, as -you know, it was not my fault, but your will.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I trust you will come safely out of the great -dangers which surround you, and that we may yet -meet under happier circumstances. Commend me to -my Lord Craven and to George Delarry. I am glad -they are with you, for I am sure they will be -helpful. My Lord Orford is still here, but his humour -is not of the best. He feels he has been cheated -of his bride, and I think he is in money -difficulties; he reckoned on Agnes's dower to set him -straight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now farewell, my good Patience. I shall keep -you in my remembrance. Your ever faithful friend -and mistress, HENRIETTA MARIA, R."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a postscript the queen had added:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have spoken to the king concerning you, and -he has decided that you are to continue to occupy, -as long as you choose, your present apartment in -Somerset House."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patience read the letter sadly. She had never been -blind to the queen's faults, but she had both loved -and pitied her, and this farewell letter was the -breaking of another link.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She folded the letter and put it with her private -papers, among the things of the past.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Throughout the months of August and September -the plague raged in London, then it gradually died -out, and the court ventured to return to Hampton -Court, until, in the month of December, there was so -little fear of contagion that the king took up his -residence again at Whitehall; and indeed all those who -had left the city crowded back as thick as they had -fled. The empty houses were thrown open, the grass -which had grown in the streets was once more trodden -under foot, and to all intents and purposes the -ordinary life of the city was renewed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is wonderful how soon people forget, how ready -everyone is to fall back into the old routine. Such -was the case now. There were many empty houses. -Some families had been swept clean away, and in -others there were vacant chairs; but those who -remained had still to live, and though hearts were sore -and many longed "for the touch of a vanished hand, -and the sound of a voice that is still", they had to -gather up the threads of life and live their new lives, -bare and empty though they seemed to them at first, -until, from beneath the deep clouds which overhung -them, they caught the glimpse of a silver lining.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-great-sea-fight"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">A Great Sea-Fight</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As the plague died out in England, and life resumed -its ordinary course, the war with the Dutch threatened -to be more formidable than ever, for the French -king made common cause with the Dutch. The great -Admiral de Ruyter came out of the Texel and made -straight for England with a splendid fleet of eighty-four -ships. They were to be joined by the French -fleet from the Mediterranean, consisting of thirty more -ships.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wholly unsuspicious of what was taking place, the -English admiral, Monk, now his Grace of Albemarle, -awoke one summer's morning to find to his great -surprise that the Dutch fleet was lying at anchor half -the channel over. Prince Rupert should have been -with him, but with his usual impatience of inaction, -he had steered westward with his White Squadron, -therefore Albemarle had but sixty vessels, great and -small, with which to face the enemy, but nevertheless, -with English pluck, he gave the signal to attack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He would neither wait for the weather nor Prince -Rupert," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a great south-west wind, which blew the -English ships straight upon the Dutch, who were -surprised at the suddenness of the attack, and had -not so much as time to weigh anchor, but cut their -cables and made their way back to their own shore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Everything was against the English. Their ships -were so laid down by the gale that they could not -open their lower port-holes to leeward, whereas the -Dutch, facing them with their broadsides to windward, -had the free use of all their tiers of guns. A -terrible fight ensued. Monk had followed the Dutch -to Dunkirk, but being forced suddenly to tack, his -topmast came to grief, and he was obliged to lie to.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It were in vain to tell here of the gallant deeds -done alike by Dutch and English. It was a fight -for the supremacy of the seas. Many of the English -officers had protested against the unequal attack -made upon them by the Dutch. "A mad fight" it -is called in history. The English suffered severely; -many of their ships were sunk, some were taken, and -nearly all those which came into action were ruined -in their masts and rigging by the chain-shot, a new -invention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So night fell; but on the morrow Monk resumed -the conflict, and all day long the English fought -against a far superior force. Another night fell and -another day dawned--the third day of carnage--and -the fight was renewed; but now Monk fought retreating, -and after removing the men from some of the -disabled ships, he caused them to be burnt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Where was the White Squadron? Where was -Prince Rupert and his brave men? On the first day -of the battle the prince had stopped on his westward -course, intelligence having reached him that the -Dutch were at sea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To put back, to make for Dover, was speedily -done; but when he reached the Downs he heard -no sound of battle, nor could he obtain any -information concerning the enemy. Reginald was beside -him, and together they strained their ears to catch -the least sound. At last, on the 3rd of June, heavy -cannonading was heard. Instantly the prince spread -his flying canvas to the wind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He came up just in time to save Monk. All day -they fought, and all the following day also. How -any man survived to tell the tale is marvellous. In -the beginning of their second day the </span><em class="italics">Prince Royal</em><span>, -esteemed the best man-of-war in the world, struck -on a sand-bank, and was taken by the Dutch. It -seemed as if nothing human would stop the fighting -and the carnage; only God's hand could stay it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly there arose and enveloped both fleets a -thick and impenetrable fog. The guns were silenced -and the slaughter ceased. When it lifted, the Dutch -fleet was in full retreat, and the English were too -disabled to follow them. Victory or no victory, it -had been a cruel experience. It was called an -English victory, and thanksgivings were ordered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Truly we had reason to thank God that we had -not lost our whole fleet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Monk and Prince Rupert from henceforth remained -close together, and when De Ruyter again put to sea -with a stronger force than ever, they went out -together to meet him, and drove him back in rage and -despair to the Texel. Then the English scoured the -Dutch coast, burned and destroyed two ships of war -and one hundred and fifty merchantmen, and laid -two defenceless villages in ruins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was in vain that some brave English officers tried -to prevent this last deed of savage warfare. They -could not do so; the anger of their men, their thirst -for blood, was in the ascendant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the hope of stopping the carnage, Reginald, now -commander, besought Rupert to let him land, believing -that by his presence he might bring a certain -amount of discipline to bear upon the excited sailors, -but he accomplished little. He was standing in the -midst of a group of men when he caught sight of two -women, one with a child in her arms, trying to make -their way along the bank of the canal towards a -barge which was floating still uninjured on the water. -Two half-drunken sailors were pursuing them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To shout to them to desist Reginald knew would -have been useless, so with quick strides he caught -them up, seized one man by the neck and threw him -to the ground, threatening the other with his sword. -The men recognized their officer, and muttering an -excuse kept quiet. The two women, exhausted, had -sunk on the ground, unable to go a step farther. -Reginald went up to encourage them; the youngest -woman, a mere girl, sprang to her feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Save us," she cried, "save us!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she stopped short, for, notwithstanding his -changed appearance, she recognized their deliverer -and cried out:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Reginald Newbolt!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My Lady Agnes!" he answered, and, kneeling -before her, he seized her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sense of safety relaxed the tension on her -nerves, and she would have fallen had he not caught -her in his arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How on earth did she come here?" he exclaimed, -addressing himself to the woman who was with her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No time to ask that now," was the answer; "for -God's sake, carry her to yonder barge!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without hesitation Reginald proceeded to obey. -He noticed how light she was and how thin too the -face was which rested on his shoulder. For a second -he almost doubted whether it could be Agnes, the -girl who had skated so merrily with him on the lake -at Hampton Court.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a good ten minutes before they reached the -barge. The woman had run on in front, slipped -down the bank, and, notwithstanding the weight of -the child in her arms, had leapt into the barge. -Reginald followed her example.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must put off," she said, "or the soldiers will -be after us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no fear whilst I am with you," said -Reginald, as he laid Agnes down on a wooden -bench. "Get some water." But it was not needed, -for of herself Agnes opened her eyes, and, seeing -Reginald stooping over her, a smile of wonderful -sweetness lighted up her face, and, holding out her -hands to him, she said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am so glad, so glad!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He could not answer her, but, taking both her -hands in his, he kissed them, not once but thrice. -She blushed rosy red and sat up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it not wonderful," she said, "wonderful that -you should save me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it is wonderful--God's will," said Reginald; -"but how on earth are you here? I thought you -were in England, up north somewhere."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish I could get there now," said Agnes, tears -filling her eyes, "But you will take me, take me -now at once!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can I?" he said. "There is war on land, -and war on sea, and I am not my own master. But -tell me quickly how you came here at all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jeanne, tell him; I do not remember," said Agnes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My lord," said the woman, "I cannot tell you -much. My husband brought her to me one night. -He told me to keep her safely, for she was worth -much money to him. He had been paid to find her -and bring her out of London from the midst of the -plague by a person he knew of, a dwarf, the servant -of some great lord. We presumed he was her lover."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had no lover," said Agnes indignantly; "I -do not know who the man could be. This is all I -can remember: I was very miserable; Ann had gone -into a poor house, and I was alone with Patience in -Somerset House. The plague was getting worse -each day, and I was frightened. One night I went to -sleep and woke up, and the whole place was red as if -in flames. Patience had been sitting beside me when -I fell asleep, but she was gone, and I was frightened. -I got up, and somehow I found myself in the streets. -They were quite empty, I saw nobody. I will go to -Ann, I thought; she will take me in, and I ran as -fast as I could. It seemed to me that I heard steps -behind me, but I dared not look round. Suddenly I -felt myself caught up, my breathing stopped, and I -remember nothing more until I found myself alone -with this good woman on this very barge."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And she was like mad," said Jeanne. "I could -not quiet her, I could not keep her still; my husband -had to threaten her. 'You are quite safe,' he said, -'if you will keep quiet.' But she cried so bitterly and -called out so loudly that he was fearful others would -hear her, so he shoved out into the middle of the river; -we kept afloat for several days up and down; but she -knew nothing of what went on, for she never -recovered her senses. She was stricken with a terrible -fever of the brain, which lasted well-nigh two months. -At first she made much noise, but at last she was -quite still. Once only my husband landed and got -to London. He came back with much money; he -told me it was his reward for saving the girl. I -took all the care I could of her. We put out to sea -and came over to Holland, hoping to do some -business, as we always did--the shipping of wood and -various other sorts of merchandise--but we did -nothing because of the plague and the war which -followed, so he put us ashore in this little village, and -he went to and fro picking up what odd jobs he -could. Happily we had that money, and my husband -told me that if he could get to England he would -have much more, for he had received only half what -had been promised to him. But we managed to live, -and I did what I could for her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ay, indeed she did; she has been very good to -me," said Agnes. "I was ill a long, long time, and -she nursed me well and kindly, and always promised, -'as soon as we can we will go back to England', for -I told her who I was, and that I felt sure a mistake -must have been made, that no one wanted me, that -I had been safe with Patience. Both she and her -husband think also there must have been a mistake, -only, the man who gave him the business to do took -him several times to Somerset House and pointed -me out to him. Is it not strange, Reginald?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very," he answered; "I do not understand it at all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know what Ben Davies was told the last -time he saw his employer?" said Agnes. "That it was -not only because of the plague that I was removed, -but because I was a great heiress, and that my -estates had been stolen from me, that the people who -now held them wanted to get rid of me, but that -there was a man who loved me, and wished to save me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you believed him?" said Reginald.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I did not," she answered, "because you see -I am Agnes De Lisle and you are Reginald Newbolt, -and Newbolt Manor is De Lisle Abbey, and I knew -you would not hurt me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I had only known it!" he said. "I would to -God I had!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you know it now," she answered, "and -you can take me home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish I could," he answered, "but I am not -going home myself. To whom can I trust you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have waited so long," said Agnes, "I can wait -a little longer, and until you are ready I can stay -with Jeanne. I am not afraid of her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had risen and was standing before him. He -almost laughed as he looked at her in her quaint -Dutch dress, short petticoats and sabots, and on her -head a little tight cap which could not hide the golden -hair curling about her face. Ah! she was very pretty -and very young, a pale white shadow of the Agnes of -olden days; but to him the very sadness of her sweet -face added to its beauty. She had been all smiles -and dimples; now one had to watch, for the smiles -and the dimples were gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He left her standing, and walked twice round the -deck of the little barge; then he came back to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think you are wise," he said; "remain with -Jeanne; only you must go farther up the canal. It -is not safe for you to stay here. Where is the -woman's husband?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We do not know; we thought he would have -come back before this," said Agnes. "Perhaps he -is killed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jeanne, hearing this, began to weep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh no, the good God would not afflict me so!" -she said. "If we did wrong in taking the money -our eyes were blinded, and we did not know. Surely -we shall not be punished!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your husband did wrong," said Reginald severely. -"It is quite certain no man has a right to kidnap -a girl; but you have been kind to her, and that will -stand you in good stead. Tell me how I can find -your husband."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I only knew!" said Jeanne.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even as she uttered the words, a man came running -along the side of the canal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, there he is!" said Jeanne, clapping her hands; -"thank God!" And she took the kerchief off her neck -and waved it to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he came near, and was about to leap into -the barge, he saw the English officer and hesitated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on!" said Reginald.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man obeyed, and in a minute more stood in -front of him frowning deeply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What does he here?" he whispered to his wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has saved our lives, and he is the little lady's -friend," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have heard your story," said Reginald, looking -at him severely, "and it is by no means a creditable -one. For a sum of money you could kidnap a girl -and carry her away. Do you know it is a punishable -offence?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know it," answered Ben Davies, "and I ran -the risk. There was no work going, and we were -reduced to our last coin. I never meant any harm -should happen to her. I was told it was to save -her from the plague and from a bad man who would -despoil her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is the queen's ward," said Reginald, "and I -am the man who would despoil her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bargeman doffed his hat. "I am in your -hands, sir," he said, "to do as you will with me, but -I pray you to remember that we have given her the -best we could, and my wife has nursed her by night -and by day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That shall go to your account," said Reginald -severely; "in the meantime, what are we to do now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would have taken her to England long ago if -I could," said Ben, "but you know the high seas -have been impossible for little crafts like mine. We -should have been made prisoners, and goodness -knows what might have befallen us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There you're right," said Reginald; "but is there -no place of safety farther inland where you can go -for the present until I can arrange to take my Lady -Agnes home?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, higher up away from the sea; we were -going there," answered Ben Davies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I think you had better go," said Reginald. -"I am on Prince Rupert's ship, and I will tell his -highness what has happened."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes clapped her hands. "Ah, Prince Rupert -will remember me!" she said. "He has known me -always. I saw him last at my Lord Craven's. He -is a great friend of mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rest assured he will see you righted," said -Reginald. "What is the name of the village you propose -taking her to?" said Reginald, turning to the barge-man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is off the great canal," he said, "and therefore -safe;" and he named a little village unknown to -Reginald. "It is not far. I can take them there -to-night and be back here to-morrow for you, sir, -if you choose to visit it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you sure they will be quite safe there?" he -asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite safe," he answered. "My father was an -Englishman, my mother is a Dutch woman. She -lives there; I will take them to her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will this suit you, Lady Agnes?" asked Reginald.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite well," she answered, "if you think it -right; but why do you call me my Lady Agnes? -I am not so; I am simply Agnes Beaumont De -Lisle;" and there was just a touch of pride as she -spoke the last name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reginald smiled. "Then I will leave you," he -said, "until to-morrow, when I hope we shall be able -to manage something for your return home; but it -will be difficult. We cannot take you on our -battleships," he said, smiling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?" she asked. "I should not be afraid. -I can never understand why I was so frightened the -night I was lost; I must have been ill. Have you -heard anything of Aunt Patience or of Ann?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing," answered Reginald. "You know I -left home immediately after my father's death, and I -have not been back since. I have been wandering -half over the earth, or rather the seas, and communication -is not easy. But we shall hear soon now," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Alas, if they have died of the plague!" said -Agnes; "what shall I do? It was awful when I -was there!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We will hope not; we must not look on the black -side of things. Let us trust we shall find them safe -and well," answered the young man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Patience will have grieved sorely for the loss of -me," said Agnes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Reginald, "'joy cometh in the -morning', and now I must leave you, or I shall be -reported missing. Farewell; may God be with you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She smiled up at him, holding out her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Everything is coming all right," she said. "I -am well content."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So am I," said Reginald, "but I am loath to -lose sight of you even for a time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir, I will answer for it, no harm shall come to -her," said Jeanne.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, my good woman!" said Reginald; -and he would have put a piece of money in her hand, -but she would not touch it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will not barter a human life again," she -answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're right there," said Reginald, and he sprang -ashore, waving his hat as he walked rapidly back -towards the village.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How brave and handsome he looks!" thought -Agnes to herself. "I did not know he was so fine a -man." And certainly the last two years had worked -a wonderful difference on Reginald.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had changed from a youth to a man. His -seafaring life had bronzed his fair complexion; the -habit of command, the discipline (though it was -somewhat lax in those days), had given him a more -manly deportment. Altogether the alteration in his -appearance was wholly to his advantage, and it was -even surprising that Agnes had recognized him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As soon as he had disappeared, Ben Davies began -loosening his little craft.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must be quick," he said, "or night will -overtake us before we reach Broek, and there are so -many adventurers about, one is not safe even on the -canal." Turning quickly to Agnes, he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand you are a great lady; I always -thought you were. I earnestly beg your pardon if -I have injured you, and I entreat you to plead my -cause with your friends."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed I will," she answered. "Of course you -were very wrong to carry me away; but you have -been so good to me, and Jeanne, dear Jeanne, and -my little Lisette, I love you all." She picked the -child up from the deck and hugged and kissed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been very happy with you sometimes, since -I got well," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no harm shall come to you, I promise!" he -answered; and she smiled again in answer that -wonderful bright smile of hers, which brought a look of -gladness to the two other faces.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thank God that there are in the world some who -have this gift of joy giving! They are like angels -dropped down upon the earth to scatter little grains -of gladness in sad places.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="london-on-fire"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">London on Fire</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The summer of 1665 had been hot, but the summer -of 1666, if possible, was hotter. In the month of -August there had been a long drought, and many -people wondered that the plague did not reappear; -but there had been no signs of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dutch War was the principal topic of conversation -and excitement. The court and home affairs -were gradually settling down; the evil days seemed -well-nigh forgotten.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So it came to pass that on the first of September -a group of men and women was assembled on the -leads of the roof of Somerset House, to breathe the -air which came up from the river; indeed, an east -wind was blowing, but the day had been so excessively -hot that it hardly seemed to bring freshness -with it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patience was there, looking so fragile that the very -sight of her made Parson Ewan's heart ache. He -and Jessie had come down from the north to see if -they could persuade her to return with them. They -had heard of Agnes's disappearance, and it was so -long ago that they had ceased to entertain anything -but a shadowy hope of her return. Mr. Ewan could -therefore see no reason why Patience should remain -alone in London. Indeed, looking at her as she lay -on a couch which had been brought up on to the -leads for her especial use, it seemed to him that she -would not be long with them. The patient face -was so white and still, the eyes had that strange, -far-away look in them which we see in the eyes of -the dying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jessie was sitting beside her holding her thin, -white hand, and talking to her of that home among -the hills which they both loved so well, telling her -all the little village gossip, which brought a smile -to Patience's sad face. Ann and George Delarry -were there also; but for them, indeed, Patience's life -would have been unbearable. They had done all -they could to comfort her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To Parson Ewan especially the sight of London, as -viewed from the roof of Somerset House that night, -was wonderful. Indeed, they were all destined never -to forget it. The sky was absolutely clear and -cloudless, of that pure blue peculiar to it when an east -wind is blowing. Every bit of colour stood out -distinctly. The grey of the stone of Somerset House, -and of other buildings looked white from the dry heat; -the river below shone like silver. Looking towards -the city they could see the spires and turrets of a -hundred churches rising in the clear air. St. Paul's -seemed very near to them. It was now under repair -and surrounded by a net-work of scaffold poles, all -exceedingly dry, almost as if dried in an oven, so hot -had the summer been. In the city of London itself -there were many picturesque wooden houses, so close -one to another in the narrow streets that they almost -touched. They were very dry, except here and there, -where the tar with which some were covered was -oozing down because of the heat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In these narrow streets there was much buying -and selling, eating, drinking, and making "mighty -merry". A few hackney-coaches were returning with -family parties who had been out on excursions -refreshing themselves at Islington or some other suburb, -from the heat of the city. Many people were singing, -girls were playing on virginals. There was much -laughter and merriment, and even dancing in the -streets. No one seemed to think of going to bed, -the night air was so refreshing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To those on the leads of Somerset House the scene -was inexpressibly fascinating. The sun had long set; -there hung over the city the strange beauty and -mystery of what is called the 'raven's twilight'. They -did not speak much, but stood or sat and watched -the city until night fell. Then the moon rose and -once more lit up that marvellous vision. It was so -lovely no one desired to leave it. There was not a -trace of any mist. The moon mounted to her highest -noon, in cloudless majesty, while the city was hushed -to sleep. Midnight chimed from St. Clement's, and -the bells of a hundred other churches rang out. The -watchman's call was heard:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Past twelve o'clock and a windy morning. All's -well. It is the Lord's day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stooping over the parapet, Delarry said carelessly, -addressing himself to Mr. Ewan:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you see, sir, down yonder by the river, near -London Bridge, that light? It is not the light of the -moon. It is a fire. Well, we need not be anxious, fires -are frequent; it will be nothing. My Lord Craven -will be at his best, he never misses a fire. It is said -his horse is so used to take him to fires that he knows -the smell of it a long distance off, and will gallop to -it as soon as he feels his master's foot in the stirrup."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have heard that a fire is a very fascinating -sight," said Mr. Ewan. "After all, it is a battle with -the elements. But it would not be a good thing -to-night, with this east wind blowing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they watched that little light they saw that by -degrees the sky grew red and strong flames came -driving westward. The east wind blew a fierce gale; -cries rose up from the streets; there was much -rushing about and confusion even in their neighbourhood, -though the fire was certainly at a great distance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think we had best go down and see what is -happening," said Delarry. "Shall we take you -ladies into the house? We shall not be long absent."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; we will abide here," said Patience. "It -would be intolerable to be below and see nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indeed, even as she spoke many of the servants -came up, anxious also to witness the conflagration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You need have no fear," said Delarry, "I am -going to the king."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish you would not go," said Ann. "See -how the flames are riding, and how quickly they -spread!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is my duty to go to the king, Ann," he said, -"but I will be back as quickly as possible. In the -meantime, Mr. Ewan," he continued, "if the ladies are -fearful it would be well to put them into a barge and -send them out into the river. You had better see -if the barges are in order," he added to the chief -steward of the household, "and Peter Kemp, you -will help Parson Ewan with the ladies; but there -can be no haste, the fire will be cut off in no time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even as he spoke these words he looked anxiously -at the great flames which kept rising from amidst -volumes of smoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Courage, dearest," he said, kissing Ann, "I shall -be back immediately." And without more ado he -left her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Martha was in tears. Patience had risen and was -standing leaning upon Jessie, looking at the -wonderful sight. By this time the whole centre of the -city seemed to be one mass of flames, driven in long -tongues of fire westward, spreading quickly along -the water side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think it will come this way?" asked -Mr. Ewan of Peter Kemp, who stood beside him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lor' no, sir," answered the man; "it's a pretty -long way off yet, but the houses be so dry and so -near together, and many of them are tarred, so that -they set one another on fire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Peter Kemp was right. The chronicles of the -time tell us that the fire broke out in the house of -one Farryner, the king's baker, in Pudding Lane, -where the Monument now stands, and that it spread -so quickly that before three o'clock in the morning -three hundred houses were down. St. Magnus, by -the bridge foot, was alight, and the houses near it in -flames; the wind was so strong it seemed to sweep -everything before it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Unfortunately no one knew what to do, and the -first few hours were lost. The lord mayor was at -his wits' end, and when he received the command -from the king to spare no houses, but pull them down -before the fire, he exclaimed:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord! what can I do? I am spent; people will not -obey me. I have been pulling down houses, but the -fire overtakes us faster than we can do it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>People were wandering about the streets distracted, -and there was no efficient means of quenching -the fire.[#]</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] Pepys's account.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Delarry found the king leaving Whitehall in his -barge with the Duke of York.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You had better come with us, Delarry," he said; -"you have a steady head, and we may need your -services." And so Delarry went down on the king's -barge to Thames Street, where they landed. And -the king and the Duke of York behaved splendidly, -encouraging the men, speaking cheerfully and with -authority to the distracted people; their presence did -much to control the populace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Almost as soon as they had landed, the king had -said to Delarry, "Go back and bring soldiers and -gunpowder; we must stop it even if we blow up half -the town." And Delarry had gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He came back with a score of men, and it was -done as the king desired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly there came running into the very midst -of this scene of destruction a tall, fair man in the -dress of a naval officer, and with him a dozen or -more blue-jackets with axes in their hands; they -looked like men who had both the will and the power -to do good work. A cry went up from the crowd:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hurrah for the 'blue-jackets'!" And the men -answered the greeting with a shout and a wild hurrah. -The Duke of York, who had taken his part in the -Dutch wars, left the king's side, and, riding forward, -greeted the young officer, who paused in his running, -and by a word of command drew up his men in front -of the duke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've come in the very nick of time, Commander -Newbolt," he said; "I wish we had more -men like you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Others are following, your highness," answered -Newbolt. "My ship, the </span><em class="italics">Orient</em><span>, anchored in -Harwich this morning, and the news reached us that -London was burning, so I got permission from Prince -Rupert to come on and see if we could help, if help -were needed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is needed," said the duke, "and badly; go to -work. Do not spare the houses; it is the king's -order. The fire must be cut off, but above all things -save as many lives as you can. Away with you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No second bidding was needed; from that moment -Reginald Newbolt and his blue-jackets did such -strenuous work that he and Delarry together were -the heroes of the day. Many were the women and -the children whom they carried out of danger; many -were the poor wretches, sick, and halt, and maimed, -whom they took to places of refuge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is impossible to relate here the agony of that -first day of the fire, a Sabbath day never to be -forgotten, the Lord's day as it was called then. The -river was crowded to excess with lighters and boats -taking in goods of every description. The water -itself was thick with baskets, boxes, anything that -would float, and above in the air there was the -screaming of birds, of pigeons which would not leave -their houses, and which hovered about the windows -and balconies licked by the flames, until they burnt -their wings and fell down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Black with smoke and grime, almost beyond recognition, -Lord Craven and Reginald Newbolt came face -to face, and, strange to tell, recognized each other. -It was no time for ceremony, they clasped hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You here!" said Lord Craven; "it is well, for -we need brave men, and I have been hearing all day -long of the blue-jackets and their commander."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had no time to say more, for even as they -spoke there was a great crash, and a block of houses -fell as in a burning pit, and such a cloud of smoke -and dust arose that for a few seconds they were in -darkness, half smothered in the suffocating furnace -of heat and dust. When they recovered themselves, -they found that they were still together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can you tell me anything of Ann?" asked -Reginald quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is safe with Patience Beaumont at Somerset -House," said Lord Craven. "You know she is -Delarry's wife; he will see after her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know nothing," said Reginald, "but I have -one bit of news--Mistress Agnes De Lisle is, or -rather was, safe a week ago. She was to start for -England; let us hope she has not done so. You can -carry the news to Patience; she must have had a -hard time of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is dying of it," said Lord Craven. "Who -knows, this may make her live!" But another burst -of flames, another rush of half-distracted men and -women separated them, and each went his way, -brave men and true, ready to face every danger, not -thinking of themselves, doing their duty to God and -man as Christian knights and English gentlemen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At Somerset House, as the danger increased, Mr. Ewan -and Peter Kemp decided that as the rapidity of -the fire was so great that at any time it might sweep -up westward and render even Somerset House untenable, -they had better get the women on to a barge -and go out into the river. It was difficult to steer, -as there were so many other vessels filling the river. -The heat was intolerable, and they were almost burnt -by the shower of fire-drops which fell continuously. -It was by these fire-drops that the fire spread. They -fell into the barges, beyond the range of the actual -fire. It was as if the heavens showered down -burning coals. Many persons threw themselves on the -ground or into the river itself, saying it was the last -day, and that the judgment of God had fallen upon -the city.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sky was a lurid sheet, like the top of a burning -oven. The fall of houses, the sudden collapse of the -churches, was hideous to hear and see.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The air was so hot and inflamed, that at last no -one was able to approach the radius where the fire -raged fiercest. This circle of fire was nearly two -miles in length and one in breadth, and because of -the long trail of smoke the whole town and country -for six miles round was in total darkness, so that at -noonday travellers could not see each other, though -there was no cloud in the sky! The Guildhall was a -fearful spectacle. It stood in view for several hours -after the fire had taken hold of it, a great lurid body -without any flames, because the timber with which it -was built was of solid oak. It shone forth a bright -mass, as if it had been a palace of gold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>St. Paul's was under repair as has been said, -and the scaffolding helped to set the cathedral on -fire. The great stones of which it was built were -calcined.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patience, Jessie, and Ann watched the scene with -terror. They had only Mr. Ewan, Peter, and the -house steward with them, along with one bargeman. -Martha and one or two maid-servants had followed them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We have already said that the heat was so fierce, -the shower of fire-drops so continuous, that but for -the water which surrounded the barge they would -of necessity have been burnt up. The water in the -river was almost boiling, and hissed and bubbled as -the red-hot drops fell into it. At last, overcome -with fatigue and fear, Patience became unconscious. -Heavy drops of perspiration were pouring down the -faces of all; it was intolerable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cannot you steer the barge across to the other -side?" asked Mr. Ewan of the bargeman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was late in the afternoon when he made this -proposition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will try," he answered, "but you can see for -yourself, sir, the river is covered with craft and -with floating bales; it is not easy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Ewan had been an oarsman when he was a -student at Oxford, and with his assistance at steering -they succeeded in crossing the river and reaching the -Surrey side, which put them comparatively out of -danger. It was called "the Bank side" in those days.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know of a little ale-house where, if not -overcrowded, they would take us in," said Peter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then for God's sake guide us there," said Mr. Ewan, -as he lifted Patience in his arms and carried -her out of the barge on to land.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The refugees swarmed along the river front, but, -guided by Peter, the little party found its way at last -to the ale-house, which stood back in a garden of -its own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As good fortune would have it, there was one room -still unoccupied. Of this the women took immediate -possession, and where Patience could be tended. -Late in the afternoon they were able to join the men -in the little garden, and witnessed the fire growing -ever more and more vivid, creeping up the steeples, -appearing between the churches and the houses, as -far as they could see up the hill on which the city -stands, a most horrid, malicious, bloody flame, not -like the fine flame of a fire, but in fashion like a -bow--a dreadful bow it was, a bow which had God's -arrow in it with a flaming point.[#]</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] Vincent.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was an awful sight, and throughout Monday -and Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, the fire -continued, at times seeming to die down, and then -bursting forth again with redoubled fury. Up and -down the city the Duke of York rode. Lord Craven, -Delarry, Reginald Newbolt, and many other brave -men fought the fire as they had never fought a living -enemy. There was no thought of rest, no thought -of staying their hand--desolation, ruin, surrounded -them on every side. The town itself was in those -days hardly more than a mile wide at any point; -open country was all around, and the people who -had made their escape camped out on Moorfields and -in the meadows of the hillside slopes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fortunately the weather continued warm and dry, -and there was bright moonlight. By mid-day on -Friday all danger was past; but what had been the -most picturesque city in Europe, was now a heap of -ruins and ashes. Few lives had been lost, but old -London had ceased to exist.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="found"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Found</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was Sunday morning, just a week since the fire -had broken out and consumed the city. The bells -of the churches that remained uninjured were ringing -out, and crowds were passing over the ruins to reach -the churches, there to confess their sins and their -misdoings, and to pray the Lord to stay His wrath, -and not utterly destroy His people.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No such scene of desolation was ever witnessed -before, and let us pray it may never be witnessed -again in the capital of the English nation. She had -fallen very low, and now her people humbled -themselves, acknowledging the hand of God which had -chastised and yet had not slain them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A man, a woman, and a girl were making their -way from the crowded banks of the river up the -Strand towards Somerset House. When they reached -it they found the gates closed and guarded by -soldiers, for the people who remained in the city were -afraid of the many marauders and thieves who had -escaped from the prisons and places of detention -during the last few days. Newgate had been burnt -down, and it had been impossible to keep a close -watch over the prisoners, so that, now the danger -of fire was over, a great fear of rapine, theft, and -murder fell upon the honest inhabitants.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Those who could afford it, themselves set watchmen -before their houses, and barred and bolted their -doors. In the court-yard of Somerset House there -were both soldiers and sailors mingled together. -There was also a watch-box, used at night by the -watchman, but at present a soldier stood in it with -fixed bayonet. Seeing all this array, the three -strangers slunk back and began conversing together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What shall we do?" asked Ben Davies. "To -whom shall we address ourselves to gain admittance?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it will be quite easy!" said Agnes, who was -still in her peasant's dress. "I must know if Patience -is here. If she is not, then perhaps Martha will be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even as she spoke, Martha's portly figure came -through the gate out into the street. She was -accompanied by Peter Kemp, to whom she was saying -in a loud voice, hugging a book of prayers in her -arms:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed, if ye have never prayed before, it would -be well if ye did so now. Come along with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Peter looked somewhat sheepish, but he had no -time to answer, for Agnes sprang forward, exclaiming:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Martha, Martha, take me to Aunt Patience!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, my lamb!" said Martha, "where have you -sprung from?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, never mind that, never mind anything!" said -Agnes; "only take me to Aunt Patience." And she -clung to the woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll take you fast enough," said Martha, tears -rolling down her face. "Maybe it will be the saving -of her." And she turned back, holding Agnes's hand -tightly in hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They heard a scuffling behind them, and, looking -round, they saw the guards driving back Ben Davies -and his wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, let them come!" Agnes said, "they are my -friends. Go and fetch them, Peter; I must go to -Aunt Patience." And she ran across the court-yard, -not heeding the groups of sailors who instinctively -moved on one side to let her pass. Old Martha -followed her as fast as she could, but Agnes ran on -through the great vestibule. Her foot was on the -first step of the stairs when a hand was laid on her -shoulder, and looking up she saw Parson Ewan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Agnes!" he exclaimed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aunt Patience--take me to Aunt Patience!" she -cried, not heeding him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come!" said Parson Ewan; and they went quickly -on together, without speaking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They paused at the door of Patience's sitting-room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Agnes," said the parson, "your aunt has been -ill--very ill, indeed; and the last few days have tried -her beyond measure. We must be careful. Jessie is -with her. I will call her out, and I will go into your -aunt and tell her you are here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be quick, then," said Agnes. "Joy does not -kill; she will get well now I am here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had raised her voice a little, and as the door of -the room opened, a voice they both knew called out:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Agnes, Agnes!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She has heard me," said the girl, and, running -forward, she found herself in Patience's arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My darling, my well-beloved!" said the elder -woman, sinking into a chair and drawing Agnes on -to her knees; and the two loved each other with -kisses and with tears, in silence, because their hearts -were overflowing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Parson Ewan closed the door and left them alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ben Davies and his wife were conducted by Peter -Kemp to the servants' hall, and were being -questioned, but they were very reticent. Ben Davies -simply said that the Lady Agnes had been given into -their charge, he did not even know by whom. Her -very name had been hidden from them for many -months. When they did know it, but for the war -they would have brought her to England at once. -Then a young commander, who knew the lady, had -found them in Holland, and bidden them keep her -quiet until the war should be over; but she was so -impatient to come home, that she had persuaded Ben -to hire a larger barge and to put out to sea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They came up by the Medway and had expected -to be in London in a day or so, when the fire broke -out, and they had had to lay to. As soon as it was -possible, the Lady Agnes had insisted on pushing -forward. She would not let them rest. Her one cry was:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aunt Patience, Aunt Patience!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently Parson Ewan came in, accompanied by -Reginald Newbolt, who said sharply:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Ben, you haven't obeyed orders."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I couldn't, sir," answered Ben; "the young lady -would not let me. When I told her I had no money -to charter a ship, she said it did not matter, that I -could promise the owner what I chose; she was sure -she was rich, she was sure the money would be -found, and my wife took sides with her. What -could I do? So I chartered a boat, and we crossed -over; but when we came within reach of London, and -saw the fire raging, still she would not go back. -So we waited in the river until we could move on, -which we did as soon as possible. She seemed to -have no fear, and but one thought--to get home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you had better remain here for the present," -said Reginald. "Martha will take care of your wife."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please, your honour, I must go back to my ship -to-night," said Ben Davies, "and my wife cannot -leave the little one. Fortunately my mother came -with us, and took charge of the child; but my wife -must be back before night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well," said Reginald; "tell me in what -dock your ship is lying and I will go to you. You -must not go without seeing the Lady Agnes. Stay -here and take proper refreshment. I will see to -your getting back the quickest way possible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, sir!" said Ben Davies; then, speaking -in a low voice so that no one else could hear, he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will not betray me, sir? You will not let -evil happen to me because I listened to that wicked -man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I will not," said Reginald, "I promise you. -You have redeemed yourself. You shall go scot-free. -Indeed, I expect you will be rewarded for your -care of the Lady Agnes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you kindly, sir!" said the man. And then -Reginald and Mr. Ewan left the hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That same evening there was a great consultation, -and it was agreed that the very next day Mr. Ewan, -Patience, and the two girls, with their men and -women servants, should start north. They would -have to go very slowly because of Patience. It was -impossible for her to travel on horseback, so a -carriage had to be hired, and everything done to ensure -the least possible fatigue for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patience wrote to the king, telling him how Agnes -had been found. She dwelt but slightly on her -disappearance. All she said was: "She was carried -away from us by some misadventure or by some evil -design, which the Lord has frustrated, and she has -mercifully been given back to my arms. Surely her -angels have watched over her that her foot should -not slip. With your majesty's leave I am taking her -back to Westmorland to my home, seeing she has -none of her own--De Lisle Abbey, her ancestral -home, having passed into the hands of strangers. -I would entreat your majesty to inform the -queen-dowager of these facts; and also I would remind -your majesty that her father died serving that saint -and martyr, your most gracious majesty's father, and -of your promise to befriend the child, who is -fatherless and motherless, with nothing she can call her -own. As regards myself, I shall not be here long -to protect her. The late events have shattered my -health, and I am going home to die; then she will -be alone. Praying your majesty's goodness for the -orphan, I kiss your majesty's hand, and leave her to -your tender mercy.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"PATIENCE BEAUMONT."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"I will take the letter," said Reginald, "and you, -Delarry, shall accompany me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Willingly," said the young Irish officer; and the -two went off together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The conduct of the young men had been so remarkable -during the late events of the fire that they were -in high favour with both the king and the Duke of -York, to whom they had access at any hour of the -day or night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the king had read the letter, he looked at -Reginald with that peculiar expression of bonhomie -which was so familiar to his courtiers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are not you the present possessor of the De Lisle -estates?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sire," answered Reginald boldly; "they -were given my father in return for his services in the -Parliamentary army. But let not that trouble your -majesty; I am ready to restore them to their rightful -owner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And their rightful owner is this Lady Agnes -Beaumont De Lisle," said the king. "Well, Captain -Newbolt, I have a bit of advice to give you, and -at the same time a tangible recognition of your -services during the Dutch War, of which my cousin, -Prince Rupert," and he turned to the prince, who -was standing by him, and smiled, "has given me -full account. Go courting this lady; make her your -wife. It will not be very difficult, seeing she is the -fairest maiden at our court, and my mother has kept -her hidden as a pearl in an oyster shell. It is for -you to bring her forth, and when you present her at -our court as your wife, I will create you Sir Reginald -De Lisle, and ratify to you and to her conjointly -the estates of which you have defrauded her; so shall -we do away with all difficulties. What say you to -this, my cousin?" And he turned once more to Prince -Rupert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That your majesty has as usual solved the question -with your happy wit. What can be better than -love, and marriage, and wedding-bells?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Reginald answered:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am only too willing, your majesty; but there is -one thing I would beseech of you, namely, to restore -the estate to Lady Agnes without delay, and with no -regard as to whether I win her hand or not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But unless you wed her you cannot be Sir Reginald -De Lisle," said the king.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, with your permission, I will be Sir -Reginald something else," said the young man boldly; -"but I would have the Lady Agnes left free, quite -free, to wed me or not as it seems best to her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you will go a-courting her?" said Charles, -laughing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, verily I will!" answered Reginald, drawing -himself up, "and I hope to win her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have it your own way," said the king. "Send -us the parchments concerning the De Lisle estate -and we will make them over to the young lady, and -you, you will be penniless and a soldier of fortune. -Now, begone, and do not tarry on the road, but win -your spurs and a wife."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Reginald bent his knee before the king and kissed -his hand; then rose and went his way.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="home-at-last"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">Home at Last</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was a long journey north, and a wearisome one. -They had to make many halts on the road because of -Patience's weakness. She was as a queen amongst -them; they loved and tended her, each one in his or -her own way. Jessie fairly worshipped her, and was -almost jealous of Agnes. How was it possible that, -thus cradled in love, she should not live! and it was -evident to them all that as she approached north -there seemed to dawn upon her face a look of happiness, -and in her voice there was a note of gladness. -So they were content and ceased to fear for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are getting well so quickly, Aunt Patience!" -said Agnes. But Patience shook her head; she could -not think so herself, for she could not shake off the -horror of the past months--the plague, the fire, and -the loss of Agnes--she could not believe it possible -that she should live, she who had ceased to desire -life. Again and again she said to Parson Ewan, "If -only I could see Agnes married and settled with a -good man, I should be content to go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you not learnt through all this time of -trial," said Parson Ewan reproachfully, "to leave -things in God's hands? Each day you say 'Thy Will -be done', and yet you make plans for the future. -You say you do not care to live, but if it be His will -that you should live, surely you will be content. You -are still a young woman, and there may be work for -you to do--others to comfort and care for. Who -can tell what God requires of us?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When Agnes is married I shall be alone," said -Patience, "and I do not like the thought of being -alone. I would sooner go home to my dear ones."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Loneliness is a thing we have all to face," said -Parson Ewan sadly; "but there is no need to trouble -about it until it comes. Rest assured that when it -does, with God's grace you will bear it. The vicarage -is not far from Holt Farm, and there is Jessie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are right," said Patience, and a slight -colour crept over her face; "besides, we are talking -as if Agnes were married and gone, and we do not -even know that she thinks of either love or marriage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just so," said the parson; "as I told you, you -were taking trouble by the forelock."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their last halting-place was at Appleby, which was -but a short distance from De Lisle Abbey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you like me to take Agnes over to see -the old home?" asked Mr. Ewan the following morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Patience; "she shall not go there until -it is her own, and that may never be. I have had no -answer from the king."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All in good time," said Mr. Ewan, and he -smiled, for he had had a conversation with Reginald -and Delarry the morning before they started, when -he had learnt the king's pleasure, "that De Lisle -Abbey was to be restored to Agnes, and that Reginald -was to go a-courting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think he will need to do that long," -Delarry had said. "Agnes has always been his -sweetheart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, but I was a rich man in those days, now I -possess nothing! You know this full well, Delarry, -seeing you have had no dower with Ann, and I can -give you none."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am quite content," said Delarry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I, 'a soldier of fortune', shall have to woo -an heiress," said Reginald, "so I am not content."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What matters it; what matters anything," said -Mr. Ewan, "if she loves you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True," said Reginald, "if she loves me." And -then they parted company, for Reginald and Delarry -were much in request at court, and could not even -wait to see them off; but, as Reginald bade Agnes -farewell, he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As soon as I can get leave of absence, may I -come north and visit you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you will," said Agnes; "but we are poor folk -now. We live at Holt Farm, and you are master -of Newbolt Abbey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall not be master there long," he answered; -and so he bade her farewell.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>At every cottage door in the little hamlet of -St. Mary's, women and children, even the men in the -fields, stopped now and again, and, shading their eyes -with their hands, looked up over the hills in the -direction of Appleby. There was an air of -expectancy and gladness on every face, for the news had -reached them through Rolfe that the parson, Mistress -Patience Beaumont, and the two young maidens were -coming home that day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a wonder they're alive," one woman said to -another; "to think they've been through the plague -and the fire!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it seems that Mistress Patience is terribly -ill," answered her companion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I heard," said the first speaker, "but she'll -soon get hale and hearty when she is home again. -There they be;" and she pointed down the valley to -where a coach was just visible, accompanied by -horses and riders. A general movement took place -among the villagers, as if they would have all gone -forward to meet the travellers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly there arose a cry of pleasure, for they -saw two youthful figures come running on in front.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, it's the maidens!" said an old man, leaning -on his stick. "I thank the Lord my eyes will see -them once again!" and then there was no holding -back. Children and women and men left their -cottages to take care of themselves, and went on their -way cheering and waving their kerchiefs until Agnes -and Jessie were in their midst, shaking hands with -one and all, half-laughing and half-crying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Follow us," said Jessie. "Father says we must -thank God first of all for His great mercies -vouchsafed to us;" and she and Agnes led the way to the -little parish church, and the old sexton threw the -door open, and they entered. Patience, very pale -and very feeble, but with a glint of life and gladness -in her eyes, walked between the two girls, leaning -on them both, and Mr. Ewan went first, entered the -church and stood on the altar steps, whilst the people -crowded in. Then he spoke to them and told them -something of the danger through which Patience -and Agnes had passed, of that terrible plague, of the -fire, and the long separation, for which no one could -account. Tears poured down his hearers' faces, and -the women sobbed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it is over," he said, "and God has been very -merciful, for He has brought them home again; -therefore, let us kneel and give thanks to Him Who -is the Lord of life and death."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They knelt for a time in silence, which spoke more -eloquently than words, and then there broke upon -the stillness the first words of that great song of -triumph:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"We praise Thee, O Lord, we acknowledge Thee to be the Lord.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>All the earth doth worship Thee, the Father Everlasting."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It poured forth from every heart and every tongue, -the sound rolled out through the open door into the -sweet country beyond; and it seemed to Patience, as -she listened, as if healing were coming to her, the -love of life, the gladness which belongs to the true -believer. As the last words, "O Lord, in Thee have -I trusted, let me never be confounded", died out, with -one accord they knelt again; every head was bowed, -as the pastor raised his hands and blessed them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then they went forth. Patience was lifted on to -a horse, and it was, "Who should lead it?" And -so they trooped up to Holt Farm. Doors and -windows were wide open, and the scent of the summer -flowers, roses and sweet lavender, filled the air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oh, the joy of that home-coming, the sweet peace -which crept over them as they crossed the threshold -and stood for a second waving their thanks and their -good-byes to those who had followed them!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Ewan stepped into the midst of his flock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will go now," he said, "all of you, because -the Mistress must have rest and peace to recover her -strength." So they went, and Patience was taken -up-stairs and put to bed in the sweet lavender-scented -sheets, with open windows looking out over the -moors; and as she lay there it seemed to her as if the -past were an ugly dream from which she had just -awakened. As she listened to the birds singing, and -the voices of Agnes and Jessie as they went and -came, she buried her face in the pillow and wept -tears of gladness and thanksgiving. All the -bitterness of her soul for those dark years of mourning -passed away. Her youth had departed from her, -but it seemed to her almost as if there were a -resurrection within her, a new life dawning, a life which -did not belong to others, as all her past had done, -but to herself. A strange gladness, a sense of peace, -crept over her, and she fell asleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What would her awakening be? None but God -knew. Surely she was one of God's elect; she had -possessed her soul in patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a different way Agnes realized the same feeling. -It was not likely she would ever forget what she had -gone through or what she had seen and heard, but it -grew to be almost like a dream from which she had -awakened. She had been away from home and she -had come back again, and as she linked her arm -in Jessie's, and with Mr. Ewan walked back to the -vicarage, she said as much.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope I may never go back to London," she -said. "I will stay here all my life. Could anything -be more lovely?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Make no rash promises," said Mr. Ewan, laughing. -"You are too young to do that. What if -someone fetches you away?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes coloured. "I cannot leave Aunt Patience," -she answered. "Think what she has done and -suffered for me. Can I ever repay her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We can never repay love; we can but give it in -return," answered Mr. Ewan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the first two or three days life resumed its -even course for them all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If the Ewans and Patience and Agnes had been -friends before, they were more than friends now. It -seemed as if they could not bear to be parted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If we could only live all together, Aunt Patience," -Agnes said one morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patience laughed, for she did laugh now, with a -certain ring of gladness which had never been there -before. "That we cannot do," she answered. "I -cannot leave the farm, and Mr. Ewan cannot leave -the vicarage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she said these words Mr. Ewan entered the -sitting-room, smiled at Aunt Patience, who coloured -deeply, for she knew he must have heard Agnes's -last words, but he gave no sign, only laid a -voluminous packet of papers in front of her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"These are for you, Agnes," he said. "I met a -king's messenger bringing them, and he entrusted -them to me." Both Patience and Mr. Ewan -exchanged glances, while Agnes fingered the -parchment and slowly broke the seal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it?" she said. "I cannot read this -cramped writing. What have I to do with the king?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give it to me; let me read it to you," said -Mr. Ewan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh no, not all these long pages!" said Agnes, -"just tell me what it means. What does the king -want with me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing," answered Mr. Ewan, "except to give -back to you what by right is yours, the lands and -estates of De Lisle Abbey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no De Lisle Abbey; it is Newbolt -Manor," said Agnes sharply, "and I won't have it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You cannot help yourself. I think you must," -said Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Aunt Patience, you may say what you will, -but I will never go there. It would never be to me -like home; I would sooner remain with you always. -I will write and tell the king as much; I do not want -to be Lady of De Lisle Abbey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It would be of no use your sending to the king; -there are your title-deeds," said Patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I will throw them into the fire; I will have -none of it," she said, and she caught at them. But -Parson Ewan put his hand on hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let be, Agnes," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She burst into tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will not; I tell you I will not!" and she stamped -her foot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A step had come up the gravel path which she had -not heard, neither had she seen the figure of a man -standing in the doorway; but Patience and Mr. Ewan -had both heard and seen, and quietly they -turned and left the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnes, her arms crossed on the table, sobbed with -childish anger, repeating: "I will not; I will not!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What will you not do, you naughty child?" said -a man's voice, and a somewhat heavy hand was laid -on her shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She started, looked up, and saw Reginald standing -over her. "I will not be Lady De Lisle," she -said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well," answered Reginald seriously; "I am -very sorry if that be your last word, Agnes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What can it matter to you?" she said passionately. -"I will not take your lands; I will not rob you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked so pretty in her anger, with her -tear-stained face and ruffled hair, still such a child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nevertheless I am sorry," he said, "for I have -come to ask you to be my wife; and the king has -promised to knight me Sir Reginald De Lisle if I -win you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot be your wife," she answered slowly. -"I am too young; and then there is Aunt Patience. -You must be Sir Reginald something else."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will not be Sir anything, unless I am Sir -Reginald De Lisle, and you knight me," he answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head. "I tell you, you can't. I -will not have the land."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put his arm round her, turned her face up to -his, and looked into her eyes. "Now, tell me you -do not love me, my little sweetheart," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Evidently she could not so answer him, for a smile -broke over her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes or no, Agnes?" he asked softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A short gasp and then a timid "Yes", and he -would have kissed her, but she slipped away from -him and stood at the farther end of the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot; you know I cannot. What will become -of Aunt Patience?" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed. "I think that will settle itself, -Agnes," he answered. "Don't run away, little -one." And he took both her hands in his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you seen nothing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Seen! What should I have seen?" said Agnes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then, wait awhile and you will see," said -Reginald. "In the meantime, you love me and I -love you; so you must be my wife, and the king will -knight me, and we will go and live in the place I love -best in the world, De Lisle Abbey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then Aunt Patience must come too," she said. -"She cannot stay here alone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not know that Aunt Patience had come -back until she felt her arms round her, and heard -the voice she loved so well say:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall not hinder you, my darling. Did you not -yourself say it would be a good thing if the vicarage -and the farm were one dwelling-place?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I did," answered Agnes, "because we are -all such good friends."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just so," said Patience. "But as the vicarage -is too small for us all, Mr. Ewan and myself have -settled that he and Jessie shall live up here with me -after you are married."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," answered Agnes, "then you will not want -me!" And her face fell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We shall always want you, dear. Only, I think -someone else wants you more, and someone wants -me too, and we shall never be quite happy without -our lovers. Am I not right?" She drew Agnes -into her arms, and they kissed tenderly, in -remembrance of the past, and for joy in the future.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so it came to pass that a few weeks later Sir -Reginald De Lisle and Agnes were married in the -little church where her mother lay sleeping; and they -rode away together, she on her white palfrey, he on -his black charger, and he took her to her old home, -the home of her race, now his and hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They left no sadness behind, for Mr. Ewan and -Patience were also married a few days later in the -same village church, and Jessie's heart was glad -because she had a mother. And so, for one and all, -the evil days were over.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE QUEEN'S FAVOURITE</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/49344"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/49344</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. -Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this -license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works to protect the Project Gutenberg™ concept and -trademark. 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