Part 27 (2/2)
”But, Sir Henry, wait,” said the doctor, ”till your restored strength”-
”A plague of my restored strength, man!” answered the knight, as his old spirit began to awaken within him.-”Dost not remember, that I lay on Edgehill-field all night, bleeding like a bullock from five several wounds, and wore my armour within six weeks? and you talk to me of the few drops of blood that follow such a scratch as a cat's claw might have made!”
”Nay, if you feel so courageous,” said the doctor, ”I will fetch your son-he is not far distant.”
So saying, he left the apartment, making a sign to Alice to remain, in case any symptoms of her father's weakness should return.
It was fortunate, perhaps, that Sir Henry never seemed to recollect the precise nature of the alarm, which had at once, and effectually as the shock of the thunderbolt, for the moment suspended his faculties. Something he said more than once of being certain he had done mischief with that stramacon, as he called it; but his mind did not recur to that danger, as having been incurred by his son. Alice, glad to see that her father appeared to have forgotten a circ.u.mstance so fearful, (as men often forget the blow, or other sudden cause, which has thrown them into a swoon,) readily excused herself from throwing much light on the matter, by pleading the general confusion. And in a few minutes, Albert cut off all farther enquiry, by entering the room, followed by the doctor, and throwing himself alternately into the arms of his father and of his sister.
CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH.
The boy is-hark ye, sirrah-what's your name?- Oh, Jacob-ay, I recollect-the same.
CRABBE.
The affectionate relatives were united as those who, meeting under great adversity, feel still the happiness of sharing it in common. They embraced again and again, and gave way to those expansions of the heart, which at once express and relieve the pressure of mental agitation. At length the tide of emotion began to subside; and Sir Henry, still holding his recovered son by the hand, resumed the command of his feelings which he usually practised.
”So you have seen the last of our battles, Albert,” he said, ”and the King's colours have fallen for ever before the rebels.”
”It is but even so,” said the young man-”the last cast of the die was thrown, and, alas! lost at Worcester; and Cromwell's fortune carried it there, as it has wherever he has shown himself.”
”Well-it can but be for a time-it can but be for a time,” answered his father; ”the devil is potent, they say, in raising and gratifying favourites, but he can grant but short leases.-And the King-the King, Albert-the King-in my ear-close, close!”
”Our last news were confident that he had escaped from Bristol.”
”Thank G.o.d for that-thank G.o.d for that!” said the knight. ”Where didst thou leave him?”
”Our men were almost all cut to pieces at the bridge,” Albert replied; ”but I followed his Majesty with about five hundred other officers and gentlemen, who were resolved to die around him, until as our numbers and appearance drew the whole pursuit after us, it pleased his Majesty to dismiss us, with many thanks and words of comfort to us in general, and some kind expressions to most of us in especial. He sent his royal greeting to you, sir, in particular, and said more than becomes me to repeat.”
”Nay, I will hear it every word, boy,” said Sir Henry; ”is not the certainty that thou hast discharged thy duty, and that King Charles owns it, enough to console me for all we have lost and suffered, and wouldst thou stint me of it from a false shamefacedness?-I will have it out of thee, were it drawn from thee with cords!”
”It shall need no such compulsion,” said the young man-”It was his Majesty's pleasure to bid me tell Sir Henry Lee, in his name, that if his son could not go before his father in the race of loyalty, he was at least following him closely, and would soon move side by side.”
”Said he so?” answered the knight-”Old Victor Lee will look down with pride on thee, Albert!-But I forget-you must be weary and hungry.”
”Even so,” said Albert; ”but these are things which of late I have been in the habit of enduring for safety's sake.”
”Joceline!-what ho, Joceline!”
The under-keeper entered, and received orders to get supper prepared directly.
”My son and Dr. Rochecliffe are half starving,” said the knight. ”And there is a lad, too, below,” said Joceline; ”a page, he says, of Colonel Albert's, whose belly rings cupboard too, and that to no common tune; for I think he could eat a horse, as the Yorks.h.i.+reman says, behind the saddle. He had better eat at the sideboard; for he has devoured a whole loaf of bread and b.u.t.ter, as fast as Phoebe could cut it, and it has not staid his stomach for a minute-and truly I think you had better keep him under your own eyes, for the steward beneath might ask him troublesome questions if he went below-And then he is impatient, as all your gentlemen pages are, and is saucy among the women.”
”Whom is it he talks of?-what page hast thou got, Albert, that bears himself so ill?” said Sir Henry.
”The son of a dear friend, a n.o.ble lord of Scotland, who followed the great Montrose's banner-afterwards joined the King in Scotland, and came with him as far as Worcester. He was wounded the day before the battle, and conjured me to take this youth under my charge, which I did, something unwillingly; but I could not refuse a father, perhaps on his death-bed, pleading for the safety of an only son.”
”Thou hadst deserved an halter, hadst thou hesitated” said Sir Henry; ”the smallest tree can always give some shelter,-and it pleases me to think the old stock of Lee is not so totally prostrate, but it may yet be a refuge for the distressed. Fetch the youth in;-he is of n.o.ble blood, and these are no times of ceremony-he shall sit with us at the same table, page though he be; and if you have not schooled him handsomely in his manners, he may not be the worse of some lessons from me.”
<script>