Part 8 (1/2)
”Nay, that may not be, friend blacksmith, for I bear tidings of weighty import. There has been a great battle in Yorks.h.i.+re.” Maud, pausing to speak to a child close by, heard these words.
”A battle, sir traveller: can you tell me aught about it?” she asked.
”Marry, and I should be able, seeing I was in it, and fought with Lieutenant Cromwell's Ironsides,” said the man. ”Is not this Hayslope?”
he asked.
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE STRANGER AT THE SMITHY.]
The blacksmith nodded. ”But we be all King Charles's men here,” he said.
”Marry, that may be, so all who are here,” said the traveller. ”But one Harry Drury cometh from Hayslope, and he fought right bravely with the Parliament men at Marston Moor, and now lieth sorely wounded and grievously sick.”
CHAPTER VIII.
BESSIE'S DISTRESS.
Maud did not wait to hear anything more that the messenger had to tell; whether the Royalists had gained the victory or had to mourn defeat she did not know, and hardly cared. This one fact was enough for her; Harry was wounded--wounded and ill--perhaps dying among strangers. It might be he was prisoner even, and then an ignominious traitor's death awaited him. All the darkest possibilities of his fate rushed to her mind as she walked down the lane to the cottage.
Here her grief was shared by Dame Coppins, who hardly knew what to say to comfort her under such a trial, and could only point her to Him who, having ”borne our griefs and carried our sorrows,” can sympathise and comfort under the sorest trials.
On reaching the Grange, Maud found that the news had travelled thither before her--news of humiliation, that had put Captain Stanhope quite out of temper.
”By my faith, I cannot believe it!” he was saying, as Maud entered the keeping-room. ”Prince Rupert defeated by that son of a brewer and his handful of sorry prentice lads? Master Drury, what think you is likely to happen, forsooth?”
”This varlet messenger, may be, is mistelling the news,” said Master Drury, hoping it might be so, for he had thought the rebel troops well nigh crushed out.
Maud wondered whether he had heard the news concerning Harry, and looked across at Mistress Mabel, but that stern, impa.s.sive face told nothing, and Mary's, in its proud resolve, no more; and she dared not utter the forbidden name before so many, and so went in search of the children, to ascertain from them what news had come.
She saw in a moment that they had heard both items, for Bessie was sitting in a corner of the garden crying bitterly, while Bertram was marching up and down, telling her what he would do to rescue Harry when he was a man.
[Ill.u.s.tration: BESSIE'S GRIEF FOR HARRY.]
She sat down beside the little girl and tried to comfort her, but Bessie would not be comforted. ”It's very kind of you, Maud,” she sobbed, ”but you are not Harry's sister--not a Drury, like Mary and I. If Mary would only be a little sorry for him, I shouldn't cry so much, but now he's only got me and Bertram to be sorry.”
”Oh, Bessie, think you not that I am sorry, too?” said Maud.
”Yes, you are sorry, Maud, I know,” said the little girl, hardly knowing how to express herself; ”but you know you are not his sister, and so he won't expect you to cry for him.”
”Marry, will he not,” said Maud, scarce able to keep from laughing. ”And will he expect you to cry for him a great deal?” asked Maud, as the tears broke out afresh.
”Mary won't,” sobbed Bessie; and she seemed bent upon doing her sister's share for her.
Maud could not help shedding a few tears in company, and Bessie threw her arms round her neck and kissed her for them. At length Maud said, ”If Harry does not expect me to cry for him, there is something else he will expect me to do, and that is to comfort his little sister;” and she took the little girl in her arms, and laid the hot tear-stained cheek against hers, and whispered gentle loving words, that soothed the troubled heart. It was just what Harry would have done--just what he would have her do, she knew, and she did it as though he were near and watching her.
For the next few days Captain Stanhope was in a restless state of impatience to ascertain whether the news brought to the village was correct, but they were not the days of newspapers, and an army might be within a few miles of Hayslope itself, and the inhabitants none the wiser; so it was not strange that he could hear nothing of the movements of an army away in Yorks.h.i.+re.
But all suspense was at an end in a day or two. A messenger arrived bearing despatches for Captain Stanhope, and in them mention was made of the disastrous battle of Marston Moor. These despatches were commands for the Captain to collect all the men he had been able to get in his recruiting tour, and join the main body of the army in the west of England.