Part 6 (1/2)
Isabel could not but rejoice that the affray ended in a victory, but expressed her fears that he might be accused of taking the spoil by violence. ”Who stole it first?” said Eustace; ”we may take our own wherever we find it. And to own the truth of my heart, I am glad of this opportunity of mortifying Squire Morgan, for if there is a person I hate in the world, it is he.”
”There,” said Isabel, ”you are both indiscreet and ungrateful, for you know he and Sir William Waverly have promised to a.s.sist my uncle in his cause.”
”I would not give a rush for the friends.h.i.+p of either,” returned Eustace. ”A good victory on the King's side is the only way of fixing Sir William, and as to Morgan, I know it is not love for my uncle brings him to the rectory. I see that fellow's heart; and I could scarce keep myself from pus.h.i.+ng him out of the room, when he kissed Constance the other day, and called her his little wife; but she looked so distressed at the instant, that I thought I had better not seem to observe it.”
”I have heard you call her little wife a hundred times,” said Isabel, ”and it never seems to affront her.”
”One may take liberties with one's relations,” replied Eustace, ”but I tell you, young girls should never let men call them wife, especially such an old, ugly, foolish, fat, vulgar, round-head, as Morgan; and I had rather my uncle had no rest.i.tution, than owe any favour to him.”
Anxious to draw her brother from a topic, on which he always was ungovernable, Isabel begged him to describe the present state of their mountain-residence. ”Is our garden quite destroyed?” said she, ”Are the primroses I planted on the south bank in blow?”--”I observed something more interesting,” answered, he; ”my mother's grave is kept quite neat by the villagers, and the roses we set there are twined all over it.
Nay, Isabel, if you weep so, I cannot repeat to you the verses I made yesterday, just as I caught sight of our old cottage.” Isabel promised to be composed, and Eustace proceeded--
The sun has roll'd round Skiddaw's breast Of floating clouds a golden veil, The heath-c.o.c.k has forsook his nest, And mounted on the morning gale; While bursting on my raptured eyes, Lakes, hills, and woods, distinctly rise.
And there in mountain-privacy My father's rustic cot appears, The haunts of happy infancy, The fields my childish sport endears; Where victor of each game I stood, And climb'd the tree, or stemm'd the flood:
And there, beside the village-spire, My mother's honour'd ashes sleep, Who bade my n.o.ble hopes aspire, Who also taught me first to weep, When, with a kiss so cold and mild, She whisper'd, 'I must die, my child.'
Oh! fitted for a world more pure, Sweet spirit, who would wish thy stay, To witness woes thou could'st not cure, And dimm'd with clouds thy evening ray; To see thy ardent boy denied To combat by his father's side?
Yet, what is death? As seen in thee, 'Twas a mild summons to the grave; 'Tis the sure zeal of loyalty And honour's guerdon to the brave.
How are the soldier's requiems kept!
By glory sung, by beauty wept.
”My dearest Eustace,” said Isabel, ”I wish I could send these lines to my father, yet perhaps they would overcome him as they have done me.”
She twined her arms around the neck of Eustace, sobbed for some moments, and then observed, ”I know what suggested the last stanza; it was Constantia's weeping for the fate of brave Lord Lindsay.”
Eustace blushed. ”You are a Lancas.h.i.+re witch in more senses than one, Isabel; but, hus.h.!.+ the calash has just drove up. Say not a word of my verses to my uncle.” ”Why?” ”I do not wish he would know I am unhappy.”
”Keep your own counsel,” returned Isabel, ”and I am sure your looks will never betray you.”
The return of the party relieved Eustace from all fear of owing an obligation to Morgan. An ordinance from Parliament had interrupted the regular returns of public justice, and notwithstanding the King's command, that there should be no suspension of judicial proceedings, with respect either to criminal or civil causes, and his grant of safe-conduct through his quarters to all persons attending the courts of law, the Parliament had forbidden the judges to appoint their circuits.
In one instance a troop of horse tore a judge from the bench, who had ventured to disobey their edicts. Except therefore in the few places that were at the King's devotion, all legal proceedings of importance were suspended, and the little business which was transacted was managed by a cabal devoted to the predominant party. From such men Dr. Beaumont could look for no favour. Ample indemnification was indeed promised, but it was upon a condition that he could not brook, namely, subscription to the covenant. As to his two friends, Sir William Waverly and Morgan, the former was detained at home by an apprehension that he might take cold; and the latter, though he argued on the justice and policy of remuneration, by which the party would gain credit, yet on being questioned about his pastor's principles, confessed he thought him a malignant of the deepest die, and positively refused to be responsible for his peaceable behaviour.
Dr. Beaumont had formed no hopes of redress, therefore felt no disappointment. He was now so accustomed to the temper of the times, that he was only slightly hurt at being thought capable of compromising his conscience, by subscribing an instrument he had ever denounced as illegal, treasonable, and wicked. The dutiful attentions of his nephew and niece soon changed vexation into pleasure. Mrs. Mellicent'
overlooked the omissions of her crocodiles and elephants, and Constance touched the strings of her beloved instrument with a smile, sweet as the strain she drew from its according wires, till Eustace forgot all his labours and bruises in exulting transport.
CHAP. IX.
These things, indeed, you have articulated, Proclaim'd at market-tables, read at churches, To face the garment of rebellion With some fine colour that may please the eye Of fickle changelings and poor discontents, Which gape and rub the elbows at the news Of hurly burly innovation; And never yet did Insurrection want Such water-colours to impaint his cause.
Shakspeare.
The summer of 1643 opened with favourable omens to the royal cause.
Evellin sent intelligence to Ribblesdale of the successes of the Marquis of Newcastle against Fairfax, the safe arrival of the Queen with military stores, and his own expectation of being joined to her escort, which would enable him to have an interview with the King at Oxford.
This intelligence, added to that of the advantages gained over Sir William Waller in the west, revived the drooping hopes of the loyalists, and terrified the enthusiastic Eustace with apprehensions lest the contest should be decided before he could measure swords with one round-head.