HAYSLOPE GRANGE

 A TALE OF THE CIVIL WAR

 BY EMMA LESLIE

AUTHOR OF "THE CAPTIVES, " "CONSTANCIA'S HOUSEHOLD, " "THE ORPHAN ANDFOUNDLING. "

 LONDON: Sunday School Union. 56, OLD BAILEY THOS. NELSON & SONS, 42, BLEECKER ST. , NEW YORK

 THE GRESHAM PRESS LONDON & CHILWORTH

 UNWIN BROTHERS, PRINTERS BY WATER TOWER. 

CONTENTS. 

 CHAPTER I. THE DRURY FAMILY

 CHAPTER II. HARRY'S ANNOUNCEMENT

 CHAPTER III. TRAITOR OR HERO

 CHAPTER IV. CROMWELL'S IRONSIDES

 CHAPTER V. MAUD HARCOURT

 CHAPTER VI. THE HAYSLOPE

 CHAPTER VII. THE REVEL

 CHAPTER VIII. BESSIE'S DISTRESS

 CHAPTER IX. THE WOUNDED MESSENGER

 CHAPTER X. "ON, CAVALIER, ON!"

 CHAPTER XI. MYSTERIES

 CHAPTER XII. HARRY'S RETURN

CHAPTER I. 

THE DRURY FAMILY. 

It was a sweet spring day, soft and balmy as summer, and any one lookingacross the green meadows and smiling uplands of Hayslope, now so full ofthe promise of early fruitfulness, would have wondered what could makethe farm-labourers appear so gloomy, and the women-folk sigh instead ofsinging at their work, if he knew nothing of what was going on a fewmiles away. 

It was the year 1644, and for two long years civil war had been ragingin England, and now two rival Parliaments were sitting, the one presidedover by the King meeting at Oxford, while that in London was engagedupon the trial of Archbishop Laud, and levying war against the King, sothat it was not to be wondered at that men looked gloomy and sorrowful, for they were dark, sad times for everybody. 

Hayslope was a little village on the borders of Essex, but quite out ofthe high road usually taken by travellers going from London northward, so that when a young man came riding in towards the middle of the day, everybody turned from their work to look at him. They did not make avery close inspection before they raised their hats and cheered; butthis greeting, pleasant as it was, scarcely brought a smile to his lipsas he rode on up to the principal house in the place--Hayslope Grange. This was a large, rambling, roomy building, half farm-house, halfmansion, standing in the midst of an old-fashioned garden, surrounded byfields, and enclosed with a moat. The moat was dry now, and had been forsome years, and a permanent bridge of planks had been laid across, leading to the village; Master Drury would not have it filled up. "Itmight be useful yet, " he would say, when his son Harry pressed him tomake the alteration. 

As the traveller reached the old moss-grown bridge he paused for aminute or two, and looked down at the broad deep trench. "God grant itnever may be wanted, " he murmured; and then he threw back his long browncurls that clustered round his head, and spurred his horse on at aquicker pace. He was a fine, tall, handsome young man, about twenty-two, with a thoughtful brow that would have made him look almost stern, butfor the genial smile that played around his mouth, and the kindly eyesthat looked as ready to cry as a girl's at a tale of suffering. Beforehe was half-way across the fields he was met with the glad cry of, "Harry, Harry, I am so glad you have come home!"

That he was a general favourite at home was evident enough, for hisyounger sister and brother received him with screams of delight, and hiselder sister, Mary, forgot all her stateliness in the warmth of herwelcome. Only one of the group walking in the fields failed to runforward to meet him--a fact Harry was not slow to notice. 

"So Maud would not come to greet me, " he said, holding out his hand whenhe reached the spot where she was standing. He had sprung from hishorse, and left the animal to find his own way to the stable. 

The young lady coloured and looked down as Harry stopped before her. "Iam very glad to see you, " she said. 

"But not quite so glad as my sisters here, " said Harry. 

"I am not your sister, " said Maud, hardly knowing what to say. 

"Oh, Maud, " muttered little Bessie, "Harry is as much your brother as heis mine. Why, you have lived with us all your life, and if your namedoes happen to be Maud Harcourt instead of Maud Drury, it does notmatter. I'm sure you can love Harry just the same. "

"Yes, so I can, " said Maud, smiling, and feeling greatly relieved byBessie's little passionate outburst. 

But Harry looked rather disappointed still. 

"I am afraid my return is not very welcome to you, Maud, " he said, as heplaced himself at her side to walk towards the house. 

"Why?" she said, quickly, in a tone of pain. 

"I don't know, only you don't seem glad to see me this time. You did notcome to meet me as the others did, " replied Harry. 

Maud looked down, but did not answer; and indeed there was noopportunity to do so, for Bertram, thinking he had been neglected longenough, pressed forward to his brother's side. 

"Have you seen Prince Rupert, Harry?" he asked. 

The young man's brow grew dark at the question. "Don't ask about PrinceRupert, Bertie, " he said. 

"Why not?" exclaimed the boy. "He's a great soldier, come to fight theKing's battles against the wicked Parliament men. Do tell me about him?"he added, coaxingly. 

"Harry will tell us all by-and-by, " said Mary. "You must remember, hehas not seen father yet. Let us make haste indoors, " she added, turningto Harry, who still kept close to Maud. 

But Bertram was determined not to miss hearing of Prince Rupert'svalorous deeds, and fearing this account would be given to his fatheralone, he took his brother's hand, resolving to keep close to him. Prince Rupert's name, however, was not mentioned, and indeed Harryseemed strangely reserved in speaking of public affairs; and, as soon ashe could get away, wandered off to a copse-like corner of the garden, where he stayed until he was summoned to prayers, late in the evening. 

He looked pale and agitated as he came in. The family were allassembled--his father at the head of the table, with the Bible openbefore him, and the maid-servants and serving-men at the other end ofthe room; and Harry felt that every eye was upon him as he took hisaccustomed place. 

After the chapter was read they all knelt down, and then any one mightknow how deeply and truly Master Drury loved his King, although herarely spoke of it at any other time. Now, however, the man's whole soulwas poured out before God in impassioned pleading for his royal master, while his hatred of the Parliament and those who were leading therebellion could only find expression in the words of David against hisenemies. A deep "Amen" followed, uttered by every one in the room exceptHarry, --an omission that was noticed by more than one present. 

"Harry was asleep, " whispered Bessie, who had had some difficulty inkeeping her own eyes open. 

Maud, to whom this was confided, did not contradict the little girl, butshe knew it was not so, and she wondered why Harry had not responded towhat everybody must wish for, she thought--at least every trueEnglishman. No one saw anything of Harry after he left the room thatnight, and Maud did not see him until the following afternoon. Shethought he was offended with her, and that this was the reason he keptaway from everybody, and when she saw him leaning on the fence of thefarm-yard, she determined to go and speak to him. 

"I'm very sorry, Harry, if I have offended you, " she said, as she drewnear the spot. 

Harry started. "Maud, Maud, what shall I do?" he said, impulsively, turning towards her and taking her hand. 

Maud was only a year younger than himself, but she could not helpfeeling alarmed at his words. 

"What is the matter?" she said. "Prithee, tell me all about what istroubling you. "

But Harry shook his head, and tried to smile away her fears. "I havebeen wishing to be a chicken, and by my faith I do wish it too, " hesaid. 

"Marry, that is an old wish of mine, " said Maud, trying to smile, butlooking down as the colour stole into her cheeks. 

"You wish to be a chicken!" uttered Harry in astonishment. "By my troth, I did not think you were so foolish, Maud. "

"And wherefore not, wise sir? since you would nathless enterchickenhood. "

But instead of replying in the same gay, bantering tone, Harry sigheddeeply, and, still holding her hand, drew her into the field. 

"It is quite true, Maud, " he said. "I was actually wishing to be achicken, or anything but what I am--Harry Drury, of Hayslope Grange. "

"Prithee, now tell me wherefore you wished this, " said Maud. 

Harry had always told her his secrets since she first came, a littledelicate girl, to live at the Grange. 

"Now, marry, I can scarcely do that. But life is such a puzzle--such atangle--men seem to be put in the wrong places. "

"And you think you have one of the wrong places?" said Maud. 

Harry nodded. "I am beginning to feel sure of it, " he said, sadly. 

"Then put yourself in the right place, " said Maud, quickly, without inthe least knowing to what he referred. 

"By my faith, I cannot, " he said, huskily. 

"Cannot?" she uttered. "Cannot do right? Be truthful and just--true toyourself. Harry, you cannot mean you are afraid to do this?"

She thought she knew what was passing in his mind. He had been away fromhome for several weeks, in London and in the North, and she thought helonged to serve his King by taking up arms and joining actively in thefray. Her spirit stirred and swelled within her, as she almost wishedthat she, too, was a man, that she might follow him to the field andfight by his side. 

"Harry, you will do it, " she said; "you will be brave and true, and tellyour father all that is passing in your mind. "

Harry looked at her astonished, almost bewildered. "By my troth, Maud, this is more wonderful than anything else, " he said. 

"Marry, that _I_ should tell you to be true to yourself and your ownconscience, " said Maud, in a deeply injured tone. 

"Nay, but I did not mean to grieve you, dearest Maud, " said Harry; "butI did not think--I dared not hope--you would see matters as I do. "

"But I do see, that, whatever the cost may be----"

"Maud, the cost will not be half so great as I thought it half an hoursince. I have your sympathy, " interrupted Harry. 

"But is your father _sure_ to oppose your wishes in this?" said Maud. 

Harry looked at her in some perplexity. "Can you ask it?" he said, "whenhe----"

"Yes, I know he refuses to take any public part in----" At this momentMaud was in her turn interrupted by Bessie rushing up to them with theannouncement that a visitor had just arrived from London who desired tosee Harry. 

"It is a friend to whom I have spoken of the things we have been talkingabout, " he said in a lower tone, to Maud; and finding Bessie wasinclined to take his place by her side, he left them, and returned atonce to the house. 

"Has Harry been telling you about Prince Rupert?" asked Bessie, whenthey were left alone. 

"No, dear, " answered Maud; and then she relapsed into silence, for herthoughts were busy about Harry, and she wondered why he could be soafraid of mentioning his wish to become a soldier to his father. 

Bessie waited a few minutes, and then she said, --"Has Harry told youanything about Prince Rupert, to-day, Maud?"

Maud smiled. "We have so often talked about Prince Rupert, you know, Bessie, that I think we have heard all Harry can tell us about hiswinning the King's battles for him, " she said. 

"Marry, but we have not, though, " said Bessie, earnestly. "Harry toldBertie this morning that he was a fierce, cruel man, one of the greatestrobbers that ever lived; and that he justly deserved the title theKing's enemies had given him, 'Prince of Plunderers. '"

Maud looked down at the eager upturned face, feeling somewhat puzzled, but she thought Harry might have heard something that seemed to him verycruel--something that the great Prince had been obliged to do to savethe King, perhaps, which yet had roused Harry's anger, feeling so keenlyas he did for everybody's distress. At all events, Harry was right, andPrince Rupert was right too, she had no doubt, if things could only beexplained; and in this way she contrived to silence Bessie, if she didnot convince her; and the little girl went to tell Bertie that Maud didnot think his soldier-hero a bad man after all; while Maud pursued herwalk through the fields, indulging in very happy thoughts, in spite ofthe danger she was anticipating for Harry when he should join the King'sarmy. 

CHAPTER II. 

HARRY'S ANNOUNCEMENT. 

Gilbert Clayton, Harry's friend, was a stranger to the rest of thefamily; but Master Drury no sooner heard of his arrival than he invitedhim to stay as long as he pleased, or as long as his business wouldpermit; and this was so warmly seconded by Harry, that young Claytoncould not but remain. He was the more willing to do this, as he had beenordered by the doctors to leave London and reside in the country beforejoining the army again, for he had received a dangerous wound theprevious summer in the battle of Chalgrove, where his kinsman, the braveand pious John Hampden, was mortally wounded. It was by talking of JohnHampden that Harry first became acquainted with Gilbert Clayton, and nowhe wanted to hear more of him and the gentle Sir Bevil Granville, whohad so bravely led on his pikemen at the battle of Lansdowne. 

The talks about these heroes generally took place in the most quiet partof the garden; for Gilbert Clayton, knowing his host's politicalopinions differed from his own, was too courteous to bring forward thesubject before him and his family. Master Drury himself rarely talked ofpublic matters with any one, and loved his books and the quiet of hisstudy too well to take any active part in such affairs; and he said hecould help the King's cause more by his prayers than anything else; sothe two young men were left to amuse themselves as they pleased, and bya sort of tacit understanding, these conversations were never carried onin the presence of Mary or Maud. 

Master Drury's household was managed by his sister, an elderly lady, wholooked after children and servants with the greatest watchfulness, lesta moment of their time should be wasted. It was the rule of thehousehold that as soon as breakfast was over Mistress Mabel should takeher place in the high-backed chair at the head of the table in the"keeping room, " or general sitting-room, and with Bessie and Bertram oneach side of her, at their lessons, a huge basket of work was brought toher side by one of the maids, and Mary and Maud were each set to work, making or mending garments for the family. Fancy-work was never heard ofin those days, and Mistress Mabel would not have allowed any to bebrought forward in her presence, if it had been. Sometimes, as a raretreat, when the lessons were well learned, a book was fetched from thelibrary, not a story-book--that would have been a waste of time, according to this lady's rule--but a learned treatise on some abstrusescience, which generally set Bessie and Bertram yawning, so that thereading was not much of a treat to them. Talking was not allowed fromany one until the children's lessons were learned, and not greatlyindulged in then. Later in the day, after the dairy had been visited andthe kitchen inspected, the spinning-wheels were brought out, and themaids, who had finished their household and dairy work, were set down tospin. 

Harry had escaped from his aunt's dominion now, but his idle life was agreat eyesore to her, so that she took care no one else should share it. Under these circumstances it is easy to understand that, without at allintending it, a sort of suppression of what was really going on betweenthe two young men took place when they were with the rest of the family. That Gilbert Clayton was as staunch a Cavalier as themselves was takenfor granted; while he thought they fully understood his principles andthe cause he was engaged in, and believed it was from refinement offeeling that the matter was never referred to in his presence. 

That he was helping his friend to see that the cause of the Parliamentwas a just, honest cause, and one that must be espoused if civil andreligious liberty were ever to be secured for England, he knew fullwell; but in doing this he believed he was only doing his duty, sinceHarry had come to him first to talk about these matters. 

So the days and weeks went quietly on at Hayslope Grange, and the purecountry air had so invigorated Gilbert Clayton that he began to talk ofreturning to London, to make preparations for joining Lord Kimbolton'sarmy. Maud had heard that he was a soldier, and fully expected Harrywould speak to his father, and go to London with his friend. 

She felt rather jealous of young Clayton, if the truth must be told, forhe quite monopolised Harry's society, so there had been no opportunityof resuming the conversation that his arrival had interrupted, or shemight have discovered the mistake she had made. Hearing nothing of this, and the day for Clayton's departure being fixed, she determined to seeksome opportunity of speaking to Harry. She was a noble, unselfish girl, and though she knew his going would cost her the bitterest pang she hadever felt, and be followed probably by weeks and months of anxioussuspense and dread, she would not hold him back--nay, she would urge himto go at the call of duty, though all the sunshine of her life woulddepart when he went; for months might pass before she heard of himagain, and he might be wounded, dying, or dead, and the tidings neverreach Hayslope Grange. 

News travelled slowly in those days, and in the unsettled state ofaffairs could not always be relied upon; but tidings reached Hayslopejust now that the Parliament had seized the Archbishop of Canterbury, and his trial was now going on, the charges against him being that hehad tried to subvert civil and religious liberty in England, had beenthe author of illegal and tyrannical proceedings in the court of StarChamber, and had suppressed godly ministers and godly preaching. 

But to the family at Hayslope Grange these charges were as nothingcompared to the guilt the Parliament had incurred in seizing an anointedprelate. 

Master Drury lifted up his hands in silent horror when he heard it, andMistress Mabel burst into tears. The sight of their stern aunt cryingseemed to make more impression upon Bessie and Bertram than the fate ofthe archbishop. 

"Was he very wicked?" asked Bessie. 

This was enough to drive back Mistress Mabel's tears. "Wicked!" sherepeated, in anger. "Never let me hear you ask such a question about oneof the Lord's anointed, Bessie, unless you would share in the sin ofthose who have laid violent hands upon him. "

"It is sacrilege, " uttered Master Drury, slowly and solemnly. 

Mistress Mabel, who did not often talk, found her tongue now, and usedit too, denouncing in the strongest terms the doings of the Parliament. "What is to be the end of this evil generation, that worketh suchwickedness?" she said at last; and then, as if answering the query, wenton, "The land shall be desolate, and all the people perish. " Bessie andBertram looked frightened. "What does that mean?" whispered the littlegirl; "won't the people in the village have anything to eat, becausethey are cruel to the archbishop?"

It was almost the first time any one at the Grange had thought of theirpoor neighbours, and the burden they were silently bearing under thesegreat changes. Taxes were high, food was scarce, and many of the men hadjoined the King's army; but none of the Drurys had thought of thesethings except Harry, and it was the little scraps of news he heard inthe village that first led him to doubt whether the royal cause were thejust one. 

He and Gilbert Clayton were absent when the news concerning thearchbishop first reached Hayslope; but when they returned in the eveningHarry knew that something had happened, by the look of anxious troubleon his father's face, and the querulous restlessness of his aunt. 

"What is the matter, Mary?" he asked, in an anxious whisper. 

But Mary only held up her finger warningly. "The servants are comingin, " she murmured; and at the same moment Mistress Mabel placed theBible in front of the high-backed chair at the head of the table, andMaster Drury slowly took his seat. 

Prayers for the King, Gilbert and Harry could both join in; for theyhoped God would change his heart, and teach him that it was mostunkingly to break his promises again and again, as he had done. Butto-night it seemed that Master Drury could think of nothing but of theevil-doing of the Parliament in bringing the archbishop to trial; and heprayed that all their plans might be frustrated, the King brought backto his throne, and the archbishop restored to his charge; while thosewho had troubled them might be visited with dire calamities andafflictions. 

His prayer was not concluded when Harry started from his knees and said, in a hoarse voice, "Stop, my father, I pray you; you know not for whatyou are asking. "

All turned to look at him in silent, speechless wonder--all but GilbertClayton, who rose from his knees and laid his hand upon Harry'sshoulder. "Come away, " he whispered. 

But Harry would not stir. "My father must not pray thus, " he said, loudenough for any one to hear. 

Master Drury and the rest slowly rose from their knees. 

"Harry, my boy, you are ill, " said the gentleman, in a tone ofcompassion. 

"Prithee, now tell me where you have been racing all the day, to getyour head so disordered, " said Mistress Mabel; and she despatched Maryto her store closet for some herb tea for Harry to take at once. 

"I don't want the herb tea, aunt, " said Harry, in a clear, calm voice. "I am quite well; the sun has not affected my head, and I know quitewell what I am about. "

Aunt Mabel looked incredulous; but his father, losing the fear ofillness, sat down in his chair, a dim feeling of a sorer trouble thanthis coming over him as he looked at Harry. "Sit down, " he said, in atone of command to the rest, who stood just as they had risen from theirknees--"sit down and listen to the reason my son has to give forinterrupting our godly exercise this evening. " And he looked towardsHarry as if waiting for his answer. 

The young man instinctively drew a step nearer to Maud, as if mutelyasking her sympathy and support; but she was looking down upon the oakenfloor, utterly unable to comprehend what Harry could mean by thisstrange proceeding. 

Harry seemed to feel that he had acted unwisely in yielding to hisimpulse; and he said, slowly, "Prithee, father, let me tell it toyourself alone. "

"By my faith, that cannot be now, Harry, " said Master Drury, energetically. "We have all been hindered in our devotions by yourfroward speech, and each has an equal right to hear your reason for it. "

The men and maid-servants gathered at the end of the room pitied poorHarry in his confusion, and would have retreated, trusting to have theircuriosity gratified afterwards by the tell-tale tongue of Bessie orBertram; but Mistress Mabel's eye was upon them, and they knew theydared not go away. 

Harry's face changed from an ashy whiteness to crimson as his fatherspoke, and then he went pale again as he said, "My father, do not forceme to speak out now; let me go to your study, and I will tell you allthat has been passing in my mind of late. "

But Master Drury was inexorable when once he had made up his mind. "Myson, we are waiting, " was all he said in reply to Harry's entreaty. 

Harry drew himself up, and casting a hasty glance at Maud's bowedfigure, he said, "Father, I have resolved to cast in my lot with thepatriots who are striving to rescue this country from the grasp oftyrants; they are not the evil-doers you think them. It is the King andarchbishop and their advisers who are traitors, not the Parliament, orthe brave, true men who are fighting for it. "

He might have been hurried into saying much more, but at this momentMaud fell to the ground with a piercing shriek; and at the same instantGilbert Clayton seized Harry's arm and dragged him from the room. 

[Illustration: HARRY'S ANNOUNCEMENT. ]

CHAPTER III. 

TRAITOR OR HERO?

The confusion and dismay into which the orderly household of HayslopeGrange was thrown by Harry's untimely and hasty confession baffles alldescription. Fainting among young ladies was not so common in thosedays, and the only orthodox remedy known to Mistress Mabel being burntfeathers, these had to be fetched from the poultry-yard, and singed atthe kitchen fire, before anything else could be done for Maud, who stilllay unconscious on the floor; while Bessie and Bertram, thinking oftheir aunt's words of the morning, cried and screamed, "Prithee, tellthem to let the archbishop go; poor Maud will die if you don't!"

Clayton had some difficulty in keeping Harry outside the house, whitherthey had retreated when he heard that Maud was ill; but thinking thathis presence would only add to the confusion in the keeping-room if hewent in again, he prevailed upon him to remain where he was until MasterDrury came out and fetched them both into the study. 

His face was white and rigid, with such a look of helpless woe about thelines of his mouth that it touched Gilbert more deeply than the fiercestexpression of anger could have done. Harry's misery seemed complete whenhe looked at his father's face in the dim light of the study lamp, andfalling on his knees, he exclaimed--

"Oh, my father, forgive me!"

But his father drew back hastily from the outstretched hands. 

"Rise from your knees, Harry Drury!" he said, sternly, "and tell me whatyou mean by the froward words you have this night spoken. "

"My father, I spoke hastily and unadvisedly, " said Harry, humbly. "Ishould have come to you alone, and confessed that my opinions of theKing's doings had greatly changed of late, and begged your permission tojoin the army now fighting for the Parliament. "

"And do you think I would have given it, traitor-caitiff?" said MasterDrury, sternly. 

"I have angered you, " said Harry; "but, my father, you will suffer me tospeak to you of this to-morrow, and hear me when I say that GilbertClayton here hath not sought to draw me to this way of thinking. I hadsome converse upon it with Mistress Maud before his arrival. "

Master Drury glanced at Clayton suspiciously; he had not noticed hispresence before. 

"If you are clear of this thing, young man, " he said, "you can abidehere until the morning; but Harry Drury departs from Hayslope Grangethis night. "

[Illustration: HARRY DRIVEN FROM THE GRANGE. ]

Harry started in blank astonishment. 

"Marry then, where am I to tarry?" he said. 

"That I know not; but traitors cannot abide under this honest roof, thathas never sheltered any but true and loyal men since it was raised byRoger Drury ninety years ago. "

"But, my father----"

"Call me not by that name, " interrupted the old man, "unless you areready to return, and willing to do true and loyal service to your Kingand country. "

"My country I am willing to serve; but, my father, this King is tryingto enslave it, " said Harry, earnestly. 

"Prithee! what will you say next? But hold, I am not here to banterwords with you. Will you enter the King's service, and fight his battlesunder Prince Rupert?" demanded Master Drury. 

"Serve under that Prince of Plunderers?--never!" said Harry, in adetermined tone. 

"It is enough, " said his father. "I give you this purse, which containsenough to keep you from starving for a few days, and for the rest youmust look to yourself. You have no further part or lot in HayslopeGrange. I cast you off for ever. "

But Harry did not attempt to touch the purse, which his father hadplaced on the table beside him. Throwing himself again on his knees, hebegged his father to revoke the dreadful words he had just uttered. 

"I will remain at home, and never again seek to serve the Parliament, ifyou forbid it, " he said. 

Master Drury looked down at him, and his lips quivered with emotion. 

"Say you will renounce these new opinions and serve the King, and youare my son still, " he said. 

But Harry started back. 

"Give up my principles! all that I have learned to see is just and trueand honest! My father, you cannot ask me to do this?" said Harry. 

"I ask you to give up all traitorous friendships, and return to yourallegiance and duty to your King, " said his father. 

"But I should be a traitor to my conscience. I should sell myconvictions of right and duty for your favour. My father, you would nothave your son a slave?"

"I would that I had no son at all!" groaned the old man, covering hiseyes with his hands. 

"Forgive me, oh, forgive me the pain I have caused you, my father; andlet me remain at home with you still; only don't ask me to be a traitorto my conscience!" implored Harry. 

"I _ask_ you nothing, " said Master Drury. "I _command_ you to swear thismoment that you will enter the King's service without delay; and if youdo not obey me, you leave this house at once, and I have no son fromthis night. "

Harry slowly rose from his knees with bowed head. 

"I cannot swear, " he said. "I will serve my country, not sell her intothe power of tyrants, " and he turned to leave the room. But at the doorhe paused for a moment, and then turned back. "You will give me yourblessing once more, my father, before I depart?" he said; and he wouldhave knelt to receive it, but the old man waved him off. 

"Leave me, leave me at once, lest I curse you!" he said, in a hoarsevoice; and Harry, without glancing at the purse, which still lay on thetable, retreated from that look of stern wrath which had settled on hisface. 

The two young men walked straight out into the fields, and for some timeneither spoke; but at length Harry said, --

"What are we to do, Clayton?"

"We had better get round to the barn for to-night, and sleep there, "replied Gilbert, "and then to-morrow you had better see your fatheragain. "

But Harry shook his head sadly. 

"Marry, it will be of no use, " he said. 

"By my troth, I would try, though you cannot marvel that he is angry, speaking as you did, " said Gilbert, warmly. 

"Yes, I know I was wrong; but you do not know my father, Gilbert, or youwould not advise me to thrust myself into his presence again for awhile. No, no; I must go to London now, and seek my fortune there. "

"But you will stay here to-night?" said his friend. 

"Yes, to-night, " sighed Harry; "for I must see Maud to-morrow. "

Clayton hoped that Master Drury's anger might be somewhat appeased bythe next day, and he resolved to see him, if possible, when he went tothe house for his things, which in the hurry and confusion had been leftbehind. 

Anxiety kept Harry awake as much as his strange quarters that night; butClayton, who had many times slept out in the open field when upon themarch, did not feel much inconvenience from sleeping on the barn floor. He awoke about the usual time, but would not stir, for fear ofdisturbing Harry. At length, however, one of the men pushed open thedoor, and not recognising the intruders, at once ordered them off in aloud, rough voice. 

Harry started to his feet, crying, "Maud, Maud, I will save you!" andthen rubbed his eyes to see if it was true that the man was staring andGilbert laughing at him. 

"Marry, but you have been dreaming, " said Clayton, rising and stretchinghimself. 

"Is it my young master?" uttered the man, slowly, as if scarcely able tobelieve the evidence of his eyes. 

"Yes, it is me; Harry Drury, " said Harry. "Have you heard how MistressMaud is this morning?" he asked, anxiously. 

"But sadly, I hear, " said the man, shaking his head. "Marry, but 'tis abad business, this, Master Harry, " he added. 

"Will you go and tell one of the maids to ask Mistress Maud to come tome?" said Harry, in a tone of impatience. 

"Mistress Maud has not yet left her room, " said the man. "I heard----"

"Then go and ask if I can see her in the painted gallery, " interruptedHarry. "Stop!" he cried, as the man was moving off; "you are not to goto Mistress Mabel, but ask Jane, or one of the other maids. "

The man gave a knowing nod, and departed on his errand, determined toaccomplish it too, for he had no doubt but that the visit to Maud was toask her to intercede with Master Drury; and Harry being a generalfavourite with the servants, they had all felt sorry for his dilemma, although they did not understand it. 

He slowly followed the man round to a small entrance at the side of thehouse, and presently the door opened and Jane beckoned him to enter. Astaircase close to the door led direct to one end of the paintedgallery, which was close to Maud's room, and here Harry sat down in thebroad window-seat to wait her coming. He did not have to wait long. In aminute or two her chamber-door opened, and the young lady stepped intothe gallery, looking very pale and sad, but almost as stern as MasterDrury himself. 

"Oh, Maud, forgive me!" burst forth Harry, starting forward when he sawher. 

But she coldly waved him off. 

"I have nothing to forgive, " she said. 

Harry paused in amazement. 

"Prithee, tell me what is the matter, " he said; "are you ill, Maud?"

"Prithee, no, " said Maud, lightly (which was not quite the truth). 

Harry advanced a step nearer, and Maud drew further back. 

"Do not seek to touch me, " she said, proudly. "I give not my hand totraitors. "

"But I am not a traitor, " said Harry. "I have followed your advice, andtold my father I must go on in----"

"Followed my advice!" repeated Maud. "By my faith, I never advised you!"

"Nay, nay, did you not understand me when I conversed with you?"

"I understand you now, Master Drury, " interrupted Maud, "but I choosenot to hold converse with a traitor;" and with a haughty gesture sheturned and went into her own room, leaving Harry overwhelmed withsurprise and distress. 

He went down-stairs, and out of the little unused door into the sunnyfields, without knowing where he was, and he wandered up and down, trying to collect his bewildered thoughts, and think over what hadhappened, until Gilbert Clayton overtook him. 

He had collected the few belongings he brought with him to HayslopeGrange, and now carried them in his hand, but he had utterly failed inhis mission to Master Drury. The old man was more bitter this morningthan he had been the previous evening, and vowed he would never own hisson again, unless he took service under King Charles. 

"Let us get away from here as fast as we can, " said Harry, as his friendjoined him. 

"Have you seen Mistress Maud?" asked Gilbert, hoping that she at leasthad spoken a word of comfort to him. 

"Prithee, do not ask me, " said Harry, in a hoarse voice. "I am anoutcast from my father's house; every one spurns me. "

"Say not so, Harry, " said Gilbert, in a gentle tone. "Remember the wordof the Lord, 'When my father and mother forsake me, then the Lord willtake me up. '"

"But I know not that I have the right to that promise, " said Harry, moodily. 

"But you confess that you need it, " said Gilbert. 

"Yes, I need it, " said Harry. 

"Then Christ came to satisfy the needy, whatever their wants might be. He came to show us the love of the Father that it was inexhaustible, notlike the love of earthly friends, which is often cold and changeful, butever full, free, and unchangeable. "

Harry sighed. 

"I feel utterly desolate and deserted, " he said. 

"Then will you not go to Him who is waiting to take you up and adopt youinto His family, and make you His son in Christ Jesus? He wishes to doso. He is waiting to be gracious. "

"Go on, " said Harry, when Gilbert paused. "I am listening; your wordsare like water to a thirsty soul;" and Gilbert went on until theyreached the village, where Gilbert bought a loaf of rye bread, and aftereating this, and drinking some water from the spring, they started ontheir journey to London; for although Gilbert was not a poor man, theyhad not much money with them, not enough to buy a horse, andstage-coaches were unheard of in those days. 

CHAPTER IV. 

CROMWELL'S IRONSIDES. 

Gilbert Clayton and Harry Drury kept on their weary tramp to London, andat length reached the little village of Whitechapel, which was outsidethe city walls. They had run some risks from highwaymen and footpads;but now they thought all danger was over, for they had almost reachedtheir destination. But just as they were about to leave the village, aparty of the King's pikemen rode in, and at once seized upon thetravellers, to compel them to enter the King's service. 

This was a dilemma neither of them had foreseen. To declare they were infavour of the Parliament would be the signal for their arrest astraitors to his Majesty; and to escape on any other pretext, withouttelling an actual lie, seemed equally impossible. Gilbert was seizedfirst, and asked his name and condition. The latter was not easy tocomply with, as he had left the army on account of his wounds, and wasnot at all sure that he should be received back again. He therefore gavehis former occupation--a mercer of the city of London. Harry gave his asa farmer, for although he did not look much like one, he spoke of thatbeing his occupation. After a few more questions had been asked andanswered, they were marched off to the captain of the band, who beganhis examination by asking Harry his name. 

"Drury!" he repeated. "Are you one of the Hayslope Drurys?"

"My father lives at Hayslope Grange, " said Harry. 

"Ay, a right true and trusty servant of the King's is Master Drury. Imarvel that he has not sent you to do service for the King ere this, "said the officer. 

"My father meddleth not with public matters, " said Harry, pondering whatwould come next. 

"I trow not, I trow not, " said the soldier, shaking his head; "but Imust have a word with Master Drury on this same matter as I pass throughthe village, and I doubt not he will bid you wield your arms for KingCharles after your visit to London. You may pursue your journey now, young man; but nathless you will speed your return, for the King needstrusty men to do him service in these troublous times. But we wish notto force our friends too much in this matter, therefore will I sufferyou both to depart. "

All the time he was speaking he eyed Gilbert most narrowly, as if tryingto recall where he had seen that face before, as in truth he had, forthey had met in the first battle fought between Charles and hisParliament, at Edgehill, on the borders of Warwickshire. 

Gilbert remembered Captain Stanhope quite well, for he had been hisprisoner for a little while, until an exchange of prisoners took place. Long illness had, however, altered Gilbert far more than the two years'campaign had altered the captain; and he rode away, thinking his eyeshad played him false for once. Perhaps his being in the company of onewhose family was known to be so strongly attached to the royal causehelped his escape; for he could not think it possible that a Drury wouldhold any intimacy with the Claytons. 

"We have had a narrow escape, Harry, and we must not stay long inLondon, " said Gilbert, as they left the village, and saw the soldiersride out towards Essex; and then he told his companion of his formeracquaintance with Captain Stanhope. 

Harry could not help laughing, in spite of his sorrow, and quite agreedthat their stay in London should be as short as possible. They wouldonly stay a few hours to rest, to replenish their purses, and ascertainwhere Lieutenant Cromwell was now with his army, and then hasten to joinhim. The long tramp from Essex to London in the heat and dust hadsomewhat wearied Harry, unused to such exertion; but no sooner did hehear that horses had been provided, than he was anxious to start again, and they were soon on the great road leading to Yorkshire, where LordKimbolton and his lieutenant, Cromwell, were mustering their forces. 

It was sad to pass along the edge of uncultivated fields in this brightsummer weather; and yet, what encouragement was there for the farmer toplant or sow, when crops might be trodden down by the feet of horses andsoldiers, or, if allowed to ripen, to see the grain cut down by thatlawless Prince Rupert and his band of soldier-robbers. Truly the landmight be said to mourn as well as the inhabitants, although as yet theyhad not reached the scene of actual strife. 

Gilbert was anxious to reach his kinsman Cromwell as soon as possible, and so pressed on with all speed, making inquiries now and then at thevillages where they slept, or of people they met on the road, as to thewhereabouts of the two armies. It seems almost incredible in these daysof rapid communication that this necessary intelligence could not befurnished in London, but that both forces lay somewhere in or nearYorkshire was the utmost Gilbert could learn about them. 

[Illustration: A RIDE TO THE NORTH. ]

The farther they travelled northwards the more people did they meet, andit soon became plain that these were many of them fugitives flying fromimpending ruin. The tales they told were of course conflicting, and intheir fright and anxiety to escape and save their families, oftenconfused. But Gilbert was able to make out that the Scots army, whichhad marched over the Border to the help of the Parliament, had been shutup in Sunderland by the Royalists under the Earl of Newcastle; but theParliamentary forces under Fairfax coming to their relief, the Earl hadretired to York, and the English and Scotch together had now laid siegeto that city. 

As they drew near to Yorkshire, evidence of the commotion became stillmore apparent. The roads were strewed with beds and bedding, and variousarticles of household furniture, which the fugitives had attempted totake with them, but afterwards had thrown away; for the rumour had goneabroad that Prince Rupert was coming, and enough had been heard of hisatrocities in Cheshire and Lancashire to make the people dread hisapproach as they would the plague. At length, as they neared thebesieged city, they heard that Lord Kimbolton's army was in theneighbourhood, and Gilbert was not long in discovering the encampmentand seeking out Lieutenant Cromwell. 

He warmly welcomed his young kinsman, and at once accepted his servicesand that of his companion. Harry Drury was not unused to arms. He hadbeen taught fencing as a part of his education, and would use thesinglestick, arquebus, and crossbow, while the fashion of everygentleman wearing a sword had rendered it necessary that this weaponshould be handled skilfully. The necessary drill was therefore soonlearned by Harry, and he was admitted to serve in the same corps as hisfriend. 

Every addition to the army was welcome now, and the work of drilling therecruits went on all day, and often far into the night too. The life ofa soldier here in Cromwell's camp was very different from the gay sceneof revel he had sometimes heard the Royalist troopers describe. Therewas no rioting or drunkenness, no shouting or brawling, for these weresober-minded earnest men, who felt they had a real work to do, andsacrificed much in the doing of it. None had been forced to come here;but they had left home, and wife, and little ones, of their own accord, to fight their country's battles and set all England free. No wonderthat they were earnest when they thought of the dear ones far away. Theywere not like the paid soldiers of the regular army; they could notafford to trifle and lose their time in play when they might be at workpreparing for the battle; and so when not at drill, the cleaning ofarmour and furbishing of arms went on ceaselessly, and the clatter ofthis and the ring of the blacksmith's tools were broken only by thesinging of some pious hymn or the voice of one reading to his comradefrom the Word of Life. The day was begun and closed with prayer, and butfor the tramp of the sentry, when once the word of command had beengiven that all work should cease, all the camp was as quiet and still, as a sleeping village. 

Harry joyfully took his share of the labour going forward; he waswilling to do anything, or bear any fatigue, to prepare himself to takepart in the expected action when Prince Rupert should show himself. Julywas drawing near now, and they had almost reached the united armiesbesieging York, and it was expected that when Prince Rupert came intothe field a battle would be fought. Scouts were sent out in alldirections to give timely notice of his approach, but they were able toreach the forces of Fairfax before he came. But, however, only just intime. On the second of July, Prince Rupert came upon them by way ofMarston Moor, but Kimbolton and his lieutenants were prepared for hiscoming. 

A desperate battle was fought, and for some time it seemed that theRoyalists must be victorious, for Prince Rupert fought with the mostdesperate bravery, driving several generals from the field, and thusdisconcerting all their plans. He tried to do the same with Cromwell'scavalry, but they kept together like an iron phalanx, and all Rupert'sdashing charges and feigned retreats failed to throw them into disorder. They were rightly named the Ironsides, for they kept the field andturned the tide of battle in favour of the Parliamentarians, and whenonce the Royalists saw that the day was lost their rout was complete. They retired from the field, leaving all their artillery, militarystores, and baggage to the enemy. 

The battle of Marston Moor decided the Royalist cause in the north. Thatwas lost to Charles for ever, and there might well be hymns of rejoicingand solemn thanksgiving for the victory, for the cause of the Parliamenthad looked desperate enough only a short time before. 

But in these rejoicings neither Gilbert nor Harry could take part. Gilbert had again been seriously wounded, and Harry, fighting by hisside, had shared the same fate. The news was carried to Cromwell just ashe was giving the last instructions to the messenger who was to bear thedespatches to London giving information of the victory. "Clayton andyoung Drury of Hayslope wounded!" he repeated. "I will come and see themsoon;" and then he went on giving instructions how Prince Rupert'sretreating troops should be avoided, by the messenger taking an easterlycourse through Essex, instead of following the more direct road toLondon at the risk of being robbed. Cromwell was as clever a man ofbusiness as he was a soldier, and although the nominal head of the armywas Lord Kimbolton, it was well known that the actual direction ofaffairs rested with his lieutenant, and all the men looked up to him astheir leader. Cromwell's Ironsides, as his troops were now called, wereeverywhere spoken of as having gained the battle of Marston Moor, and hewas daily rising into greater prominence, and was more frequentlyconsulted as to the general direction of affairs. 

But he did not forget his young kinsman lying sick and wounded. Provision had been made for this beforehand. Medicaments--hospitalstores we should call them--had been secured, and now Cromwell wentround to see those who had been carried from that awful battle-fieldwhere four thousand lay dead. Many an arm was raised when he was seenapproaching, and many a feeble voice attempted to cheer; but Gilbert layquiet and unconscious, while Harry was talking in the delirium of fever, moaning out the one name, "Maud, Maud!" or imploring his father'sforgiveness. 

Cromwell made particular inquiries into the case of each, and directedthe doctors to let the two friends be as near to each other as possiblewhen they were sensible, and this was the most he could do for them atpresent. The doctors could give no opinion as to their recovery yet, forthey were both severely wounded; but Harry's case seemed the mostdangerous, from the fever running so high. 

CHAPTER V. 

MAUD HARCOURT. 

Mistress Mabel, with all her sternness, had some difficulty in parryingthe children's questions about Harry, when they assembled in the keepingroom the morning of his departure. Mary, too, felt anxious about herbrother; but she dared not question her aunt as the children did; andfrom her answers to them little could be gathered beyond this, thatHarry had disgraced himself through making unworthy friendships, and thechildren at once jumped to the conclusion that it was Gilbert Clayton towhom their aunt referred. Mary, however, indignantly repelled thisinsinuation. She had had several conversations with Clayton, and hadlearned to esteem him very highly, so that how Harry could havedisgraced himself while with him, or what the wild words he had utteredthe previous evening fully meant, she could not tell. 

At dinner time Maud came down looking very pale but quite calm, untilMaster Drury, noticing that Harry's chair had been placed at the tableas usual, ordered it to be carried away without mentioning his name, andsaid, "That seat will not be wanted again. " Then Maud trembled withagitation, and Bertram asked quickly, "Where has brother Harry gone?"

"My boy, you have no brother, " said Master Drury, coldly. 

"Oh, Harry's dead!" screamed Bessie, pushing aside her pewter plate, andlaying her head on the table in a burst of uncontrollable anguish. 

Maud, however, knew that he was not dead, but without noticing Bessie'sdistress or Mary's look of mute agony, she rose from her seat, andwalking round to the side of Master Drury, she said, "You will tell mewhere Harry has gone. "

It was a demand rather than a question, and Mistress Mabel, as well asher brother, opened her eyes wide with astonishment on hearing it. "Hehas disgraced himself and all who bear his name, " said the lady, quickly. 

"Prithee, Maud, go and sit down, " said Master Drury, tenderly. 

But Maud shook her head. "You will tell me where Harry is, first, " shesaid, still in the same quiet tone of command. 

"I know not, unless he be travelling towards London with his falsefriend, who has turned his head with his stories of the traitorParliament. He hath done this much; he confessed it to me this morningere they departed, " added Master Drury. 

He thought this would satisfy Maud, and all questioning would be at anend now, but the young lady asked, "What did you mean, Master Drury, bysaying Bertram had no brother now?"

Mistress Mabel looked horrified at the impertinence of the question, butMaud stood still and waited for an answer. 

Calming his emotion with a violent effort, he turned to Maud and said, "By my faith, you should be thankful this day that you are not a Drury, to be disgraced by this traitor caitiff, who was my son. This must bethe last time he is ever spoken of in this house, for I have renouncedhim--cast him off for ever; and you children must do the same, " he said, turning towards Bertram and Bessie. 

The little girl had dried her tears, and both sat with white frightenedfaces gazing at Maud and their father. 

Maud staggered back to her seat and bowed her face in her hands, and thedinner went on in silence among those who cared to eat. Maud and Marysat with their plates before them, but left the table without tastinganything, and as soon as they could escape went up to their own room. 

Here Maud's firmness quite forsook her, and laying her head on Mary'sshoulder, she burst into tears, moaning, "Oh, Mary, what shall I do? Icast him off as well. "

Mary could not understand her. "I think you ought to be very glad youare not a Drury, to share in his disgrace, " she said, with a sigh. 

Maud lifted her face, her eyes flashing with indignation. "Glad!" shesaid; "nay, nay, I wish I were a Drury, that I might go and seek himnow. Think of it, Mary; all have cast him off. "

"He has disgraced us all, " said Mary. "I have heard my father say it washis proudest boast that the Drurys had ever been true to the king andstate, and never taken part with any riotous mob, and now Harry hasdragged our family honour to the very dust. Everybody will know it soon, and every village wench will pity me because I am the sister of atraitor. I shall never hold up my head again, " and Mary burst into tearsat the picture of humiliation she had drawn. 

[Illustration: "HE HAS DISGRACED US ALL!"]

Maud was quite incapable of understanding this self-pity, and seatingherself at the little table by the window, she indulged her ownself-reproachful thoughts on her conduct of the morning. She had no ideathen that his father had treated him so harshly, or she would have beenmore tender, and her heart was sad as she thought of his words, that hemust be true to his conscience. 

But her musing was broken in upon by Mary saying, "It is so wicked, sowilful, to rebel against the King. "

"But suppose he had to do this, or rebel against his conscience, " saidMaud, giving some expression to her own thoughts. 

Mary started. "What can you mean? prithee, it cannot be right for us torebel against the King?"

"Certainly not for us, " said Maud. "But we are not to make ourselves aconscience to other people; and if Harry sees that serving the Kingwould be wrong----"

"But it cannot be wrong, " interrupted Mary. "God's Word says, 'Fear God, honour the king. '"

"Yes, fearing God comes first, " said Maud, but speaking more to herselfthan to Mary; "and it seems to me that it is out of this fear Harry hasbeen led to adopt these new views. I can't see how they are right; butthen I suppose living here in this quiet village, and having everythingwe want, we do not understand things as men do who go out into the worldand learn what Acts of Parliament mean. "

"Maud, you are half a traitor yourself, " interrupted Mary, indignantly. 

"Nay, nay, Mary! I am not that, " said Maud. "I love the King, from whatI have heard of his gentle courteous bearing and his loving care of hischildren; but even Master Drury denies not that he has oft-times brokenhis solemn promise, and 'tis said that his subsidies and exactions havewell nigh ruined the nation. "

"Maud, Maud! said I not that you were a traitor; and by my troth youmust be, to speak thus of the King. "

"Nay, I am no traitor. I would that I could speak to King Charlesmyself, and tell him how sorely grieved many of his subjects are at hiswant of truth and honest dealing, " replied Maud, warmly. 

"But the King cannot do evil, " said Mary, in a tone of expostulation. 

Maud put her hand to her forehead in some perplexity. "I know not whatto think, sometimes, " she said. "I like not to think it possible thatthe King can do wrong; but what am I to think when he breaks the Divinelaws of truth and uprightness. He is not above these, if he is abovethose of the land, that he can make and unmake at his will. "

"We have no business to think about such things at all, " said Mary, impatiently. 

"Marry, you may be right, " answered Maud; "for women-folk have but littlewit to the understanding of such weighty matters; but for men it isdifferent, and that is why so many are carried away to the defendingthis rebellious Parliament, I trow. "

"But they should not be carried away, now that they know how evil areits doings, and how it has laid violent hands on the Archbishop; andherein is Harry's sin the greater. "

"Oh, say not so, Mary. Harry is right, I trow, although you and I seenot how that may be, " said Maud. 

At this moment there was a knock at the door, and Bessie's tearful faceappeared. Mistress Mabel had found it impossible to settle down to herusual spinning to-day, and telling the children she must look after themaids, to see they did not get gossiping about the family affairs, shehad dismissed them. 

"Oh, Maud, I have no brother Harry now, " sobbed the little girl, throwing herself into her arms. 

"But Harry is not dead, " said Maud, smoothing back the tumbled hair fromher hot forehead. "He has only gone away from home, and you can love himstill. "

"That's what Bertram says, " sobbed the child; "but it isn't just thesame; he was my brother before--my very own, and now"--and she burstinto another passionate flood of tears. 

"Prithee, now hush, " said Maud. "Harry loves you all the same, I amsure, and you can love him; so that it need make no difference to you, Bessie. "

"But it does make a difference, " passionately exclaimed Bessie. "Yousaid it did a little while ago. "

Maud had forgotten the circumstance to which the girl referred, untilshe went on--"You said Harry was not your real brother, and now I am nothis real sister. Has Harry got another name?" she suddenly asked. 

Maud smiled, but Mary shook her head sorrowfully. "No, his name is Drurystill, " she said, "and he has disgraced it, Bessie--disgraced the goodold name that you and I bear. "

Bessie looked at Maud. "Are you glad your name is not Drury?" she said. 

Maud shook her head. "I wish it was, " she said, "and then I could makeyou understand better that I do not think Harry has disgraced it. "

"Then it can be, can't it?" said Bessie, drying her tears. 

"What, dear?"

"Drury. You can change your name, can't you?"

A momentary blush overspread Maud's pale face, but it quickly faded, anda sadder look than ever came into her eyes as she shook her head andsaid, "No, dear, I shall never change my name now. " Then, seeing thather sadness had brought back the tears to Bessie's eyes, she asked whereBertram had gone. 

"To look after Harry's horse, " answered Bessie. "Aunt Mabel says it isto be his, now; but Bertram says he will never ride it, for it will belike robbing Harry. "

"Suppose we go and look at Cavalier, too, " said Maud. "He will miss hismaster almost as much as you do, Bessie, " she added, trying to speakcheerfully. 

They went through the painted gallery and out of the side door, as Harrywent in the morning, the little girl wondering why they went that way. Bertram had sobbed out the first portion of his grief to his brother'sdumb favourite, and now stood stroking its silky chestnut coat; but asMaud entered the paddock the noble creature pricked up its ears and gavea pleased whining of recognition. 

"It is not Harry, Cavalier, " said Bertram, sadly. 

"Prithee, Cavalier is almost as fond of Maud as he is of Harry, " saidBessie. 

"Oh, Maud, then you have him, " said Bertram, with a fresh burst oftears. "He is mine now, Aunt Mabel says; but I shall never be able toride him, for thinking of Harry; but he'll like to have you on his back, and Harry will like it too, I know. "

That Harry would like it Maud knew full well, but the appropriation ofhis things in this way she did not approve of at all; but Bertram's nextwords settled the matter. 

"Aunt Mabel says Cavalier shall be sold, and a pony bought for me, if Idon't like it; and I can't bear to part with Cavalier, " sobbed thelittle boy. 

"We won't part with it, Bertie, " said Maud. "I will have Cavalier, andride him every day, and I will buy you a pony instead, and you can ridewith me. "

Mistress Maud Harcourt possessed the sole right to a large fortune, andso she could do as she pleased in such a small matter as keeping a horsefor her individual use. Mistress Mabel grumbled a little when she heardof this arrangement, but it did not alter matters, and in a few daysBertram's pony arrived. 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE HAYSLOPE WITCH. 

There had never been much communication between the villagers ofHayslope and the family living at the Grange. Mistress Mabel believedthat the villagers existed solely for the convenience of the family, butnever troubled herself to consider their wants or necessities, andbrought up her niece Mary upon the same principle. Maud appeared to beof a similar opinion; but sharing Harry's confidence in everything, sheknew he went about among his poorer neighbours, and began to take aninterest in them herself, although not very actively. 

Now, however, she determined to follow Harry's example, and take up hiswork; and, mounted on Cavalier, she went out the very next day to makeinquiries after an old woman whom she knew Harry had often befriended. She inquired at the blacksmith's shed for Dame Coppins, but wassurprised by the man coming to the door, and instead of pointing out theway to the cottage, saying, "We'll do it, Mistress Harcourt! We'll havejustice on the old witch that's done the mischief!"

"What mischief?" asked Maud, in some surprise, patting Cavalier to makehim stand still. 

"What mischief should it be but sending away Master Harry Drury to theParliament wars, as though the king hadn't had enough of the lads fromHayslope?"

"But this poor old woman did not send Harry away, " said Maud, quickly. 

"Marry, but she bewitched him. I see it with my own eyes, " said the man. "If I had but known it then I'd have ducked her in the horse-pond, andbroken the spell. "

Maud shivered. The belief in witchcraft was universal then, and shebegan to fear whether Harry had been under Satanic influence. At lengthshe said, "I should like to see this old woman, if she be a witch, andask her where Master Harry has gone. "

"Prithee, be not so venturesome, lest she send thee after him, " said theblacksmith, in some consternation. 

Maud thought this would not be so much of a calamity, perhaps, until theman added, "Nobody will ever hear aught of Master Harry again, and ifthou dost go to the witch, thou wilt disappear too. "

The young lady looked undecided when she heard this, but she couldhardly restrain Cavalier from turning down a narrow lane close by, whichthe blacksmith observing, said, "Now, you may be sure mistress, that theold witch has worked her spells; for Cavalier there is under them, andis bidden by her to take thee to be bewitched too. "

It seemed that the horse was determined to take her somewhere, whethershe would or no, and the next minute was trotting down the lane, Maudscarcely knowing what to make of the proceeding. After trotting abouthalf a mile he paused, and then turned in at a broken-down gateway, andwalked up to the window of a cottage, where he stopped and looked round, as if telling Maud to dismount. 

"The horse certainly is bewitched, " said Maud, half aloud, determinednot to move from her seat, and trying to turn Cavalier's head in theopposite direction. 

But Cavalier seemed obstinately bent on looking in at the window, andwould not move; and Maud's consternation was complete when the doorslowly opened, and an old woman, leaning on a crutched stick, camehobbling out. She was in the presence of the witch herself, and, with acry of horror, Maud dropped the reins and covered her face with herhands. Finding the witch did not attempt to drag her into the house, nowthat she had her in her power, Maud ventured to look up in a minute ortwo, and saw a venerable-looking old woman standing on the threshold, looking very pale and ill, and quite as frightened as she herself did. 

[Illustration: DAME COPPINS. ]

But the old woman was the first to recover herself, and she said, "Youhave come to tell me about Master Harry Drury? The Lord reward you foryour kindness to a poor old woman. "

Maud hardly knew what to say. She felt ashamed of her fright now, andyet an idea had entered her head that Cavalier could see Harry in thecottage, and she said, "Nay, but I have come to ask _you_ about Harry. "

The poor old woman trembled visibly when she heard this. "Prithee, but Icannot tell you that, " she said, speaking as calmly as she could. "Ihave not seen him these three days, " she went on, "and sorely have Imissed him, for not a word of the Book can I read now. He's been eyes tome ever since my own boy went away to fight for the King. "

"What book did he read to you?" asked Maud. 

"Marry, and what should it be but God's word?" said Dame Coppins. "It'sbeen open at the place where he left off these three days, for it issore hard to believe I sha'n't hear his voice again. " Tears choked theold woman here, and Maud, quite forgetting her reputation as a witch, jumped off her horse, saying, "Shall I read a chapter for you, as Harryused?"

"Then it is true he's gone away?" said the old woman. 

Maud nodded. The tears were in her eyes now. "We don't know where he hasgone, " she said. 

"Poor lamb, it is a sore trial for you; but it will be worse for me, Itrow, " and the old woman sighed heavily. 

"Why?" asked Maud, entering the cottage, where, on a little table lay aBible open at the Gospel of St. John. There was nothing remarkable inthis book, she knew, for she recognised it as an old one of Harry's, which they had read from together many times, until she gave him a newone on his birthday once, when the old one disappeared. 

After she had read part of the sixth chapter, the old woman begged for afew verses more about the "mansions, " and Maud read part of thefourteenth. 

"I'll keep that in mind when the time comes, " murmured the old woman;"and if I never see you again, Mistress Harcourt----"

"But I will come and see you again, " interrupted Maud. 

The old woman shook her head. "It'll be all over soon; I couldn't bearit again, " she said. 

"What will be all over?" asked Maud. "You are not ill, are--at least, not very ill--not likely to die yet, " she added, hastily. 

"If I waited till the Lord called me by disease I'd may be wait a goodwhile yet, for I'm strong when I'm well; but the people hereabout say Iam a witch, and but for Master Harry I should have been tried beforelast night. "

"Last night!" uttered Maud. "What did they do to you?" for she had lostall fear of her as a witch now. 

The poor old creature looked round fearfully. "They did it, " she said, "tried me for a witch. They took me to the horse-pond and ducked me, butthere was not enough water to drown me. They'd have done it before ifMaster Harry had not been my protector, but now he is gone nothing willsave me, for they say I've sent him away; as if I should want to lose mybest friend, " and the old woman burst into tears again. 

Maud was indignant. "Prithee, do not be afraid, " she said. "I willprotect you, they shall not hurt you!"

For a minute the old woman looked up glad and grateful, but then sheshook her head sadly. "You can't do it, they are coming again to-night, "she said, "and the ill-usage will kill me;" and she pushed up the sleeveof her gown and showed how her arms were cut and bruised. 

"You must be protected, " said Maud, "it will be murder. I will go toMaster Drury at once and tell him about it, " and without waiting anotherminute, Maud mounted Cavalier and cantered up the lane. 

At the top, clustered round the blacksmith's shed, were a group ofsoldiers, who made way for her to pass, but the blacksmith sprangforward and stopped her horse. 

"These soldiers have seen Master Harry Drury Mistress Harcourt, " hesaid. 

"Then you will not repeat the cowardly attack on Dame Coppins, I trow!"said the young lady, burning with anger still. 

The blacksmith drew back somewhat ashamed, and Maud, forgetting allelse, turned to the soldiers and said, "Tell me where you met MasterHarry Drury. "

The man doffed his cap respectfully, for he could see Maud was a lady. "It was near by the gate of London, " he said. "Our leader, CaptainStanhope, has now gone to the Grange, bearing tidings of it. "

Maud urged Cavalier into a sharp canter when she left the soldiers, forshe wished to be in time to hear the Captain's account of his meetingwith Harry, which she was likely to lose for ever if not in time to hearit given to Master Drury. Captain Stanhope and his troopers had been toHayslope before, and the Captain knowing the importance of his meetingwith Harry, would be most likely to speak of it at supper time, whenthey were all assembled in the dining-hall. 

Before supper, however, she wanted to consult Master Drury aboutprotecting Dame Coppins from the village mob, and as soon as Cavalierhad been left to Roger she went in search of that gentleman. But he wasnot in the study or the keeping-room, and thinking he must have gone outwith Captain Stanhope, she went into the garden to watch for his return. 

Walking noiselessly over the velvet turf, she was close to thequaintly-cut leafy screen that sheltered the arbour from the garden, when she heard voices close by, and some one say, "Then we are to arresthim as a traitor, wherever he may be found?"

"Yes, " faintly answered Master Drury's voice. 

Maud felt as though she were rooted to the spot. Could it be Harry theywere talking of? All uncertainty about this was set aside by MasterDrury's next words. "He has disgraced the family name by this, and Iwould you had taken him prisoner ere he entered London to finish hisrebellion. "

"That might not be, Master Drury, seeing I knew not wherefore he wasjourneying there, " said Captain Stanhope. 

Maud disdained to listen to what was not intended for her ears, andrapidly walked away in a tumult of passion against her guardian for hiscruelty to his son. 

When she entered the keeping-room Mistress Mabel and Mary looked up fromtheir work of spinning, but she did not heed the command to come and sitdown at her wheel with them. Passing up to her own room, she took outsome warm wraps, and then went round to the stable in search of Roger, to whom she gave some directions about coming to the village with abasket of provisions a little later in the evening. 

She then set out on her walk back to Dame Coppins' cottage, determinedto stay there all night, and protect the old woman by her presence. Shewas likewise anxious to tell her of this fresh danger threatening Harry, for she was the only one to whom she could speak about it, and she knewthe old woman would sympathise with her in her sorrow. 

The poor old woman could give more than sympathy, she found she couldgive strength and comfort by her apt quotations from God's Word, for sheherself had tasted sorrow and learned their power. Then they fell into aconversation about Harry, which lasted until Roger arrived with thebasket, and a message from Master Drury that he and Captain Stanhopewere coming to the cottage shortly. 

Maud was not in a humour to thank either her guardian or the soldier foranything they might do now, but when they arrived she told them what hadtaken place the night before; and on the gentlemen promising to rideback to the village and make inquiries into the matter, to prevent itsrecurrence, she was obliged to promise to return to the Grange, uponRoger being sent down as a guard for Dame Coppins for this night. Butshe was very ungracious in her bearing towards the young soldier, although it was evident that he greatly wished to please her. 

It was Captain Stanhope's business just now to get fresh men to recruithis Majesty's army, and he readily consented to Master Drury'sproposition that he should make Hayslope Grange his head-quarters forthe present. His men could be lodged in the village, and they could makeshort expeditions into the surrounding country in search of recruits, and thus business could be combined with pleasure on the part of theCaptain, while it would afford the Royalist leaders a proof that MasterDrury of the Grange was still a staunch Cavalier, should they hear ofthe defection of his son; and thus the matter was settled to thesatisfaction of all parties--at least, all but Maud, and the arrangementvexed her exceedingly. 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE REVEL. 

May-day had not been kept with its usual festivity at Hayslope thisyear, and so in this month of June it was proposed to have a junketingon the village green in honour of Captain Stanhope and his soldiers. Maud, and many another as sad-hearted as she, were in no humour forrevelry when their dear ones were away at the war, and Bertram was quiteindignant that Mary should wish it if Captain Stanhope did, and loudlydeclared he would not join in the fun. The horns of ale passed freelyfrom hand to hand that day, and the soldiers kept up the excitementamong the villagers by occasionally giving them a fanfare from theirtrumpets, drinking with them, and telling them stories of "gloriouswar. " It had the desired effect. Before the night closed in half-a-dozenlads had enlisted, and among them Master Drury's trusty groom, Roger. 

This was rather more than the gentleman had bargained for, and he wasvery angry when he heard it, but he could not say much to CaptainStanhope, lest the sincerity of his principles should be doubted. But itseemed that Roger was not the only prize the young soldier coveted, forthe day following the revel he asked the hand of Mary Drury in marriage. Master Drury knew not what to say to this, for all the household hadseen the marked attentions he paid to Maud--attentions which sherepelled with cold disdain. 

It had been remarked by many in the village that Mistress Harcourt hadkept aloof as much as possible from the revelry. She had been obliged tocome down with the family, but instead of joining in the sport, she wentabout among those who were on the outskirts of the crowd--the motherswith babies in their arms, widows, whose lives this civil war had madedesolate, and sad-eyed maidens widowed already in heart and affectionthrough the intolerance of King Charles. Among these, Maud had alreadymade herself known, and now her rich robes of cherry-colour floweredsatin might be seen in close neighbourhood with the blue serge andlinsey-woolsey petticoats and linen jackets of her poorer neighbours. The children liked to look at her pretty dress--that of itself was ashow to them--but the sad and sorrowful had began to love her for thekindly words and sympathy she gave them. 

From these she heard that it was whispered she was likely to becomeMistress Stanhope shortly--a rumour that annoyed her exceedingly. Captain Stanhope, it seems, had heard the same. Some one had ventured toremark that the bride-elect did not join the dancers, and he resolved tospeak to Maud that very night, and ask her to become his wife, althoughhe had received so little encouragement to hope for a favourable answer. 

On his way back to the Grange, therefore, he contrived to join her, andin a few words begged her to favour his suit. Maud hardly knew whetherto be angry or sorry, but she contrived to make him understand mostclearly that it was useless to press her on that subject, and begged himnot to allow any one else to know that he had asked her hand. 

She need not have feared this. Captain Stanhope was too proud to let anyone know of his rejection, and his chief annoyance arose from the factthat many had already seen and remarked his preference. Musing on this, he saw Mary and Bertram at a little distance, and the idea at onceentered his head that this annoyance could be got over by at onceproposing to Mary, when it would be thought he was only playing withMaud, while in reality he was attached to Mary. So he contrived todismiss Bertram from his sister's side, and in a gentle tone begged herto walk in the garden with him; and then when they reached the arbour hemade the same proposal as he had made to Maud but a few minutes before. 

Mary was surprised, but pleased; not that she loved the young soldier, she had not thought of such a thing. But he was handsome, and could be apleasant companion; and then she had felt herself so disgraced sinceHarry had gone away, that she would gladly exchange the name of Druryfor Stanhope. She did not tell her lover this, she only said somethingabout thinking he liked Maud best, on which he muttered that Maud wastoo proud and cold for him, when she shyly said he must speak to herfather, when, if he gave his consent, she was willing to ratify it. 

Master Drury hardly knew what to say when asked for his permission. Inreality he felt the loss of his son more than he chose to own even tohimself, and did not care to part with his eldest daughter just now, buthe resolved to let Mary decide the matter; and so, telling CaptainStanhope that he should receive his answer in the evening, he sent forMary. 

The young lady blushed as she entered her father's presence, for sheguessed what he wished to speak to her about. 

"Prithee now, tell me truly Mary of this business with Captain Stanhope. Dost thou wish to leave the old Grange, my child?" he asked. 

"I wish to change my name, father, " said Mary, with a deep blush. 

"And wherefore art thou so anxious about this?"

"Canst thou ask, when it has been so deeply disgraced?" said Mary. 

The old man bowed his head. Truly his family pride was bearing bitterfruit, if he were to lose his children through it in this way. He sawthat his daughter did not love the man that had sought her hand inmarriage, and he did not believe that he loved her; but he was powerlessto withhold his consent if Mary wished it, which she evidently did. "Itwill be better so, my father, " she said. "The Stanhopes have ever beentrue and loyal, I have heard you say, and this marriage may help to wipethe traitor stain from our escutcheon. "

"True, my daughter, " said the old man, but it was said very sadly, forhe knew it was not thus he had chosen her mother, or been accepted byher. But the matter seemed to have been settled by Mary without hisinterference, and he yielded rather than gave his consent when CaptainStanhope came again in the evening. 

After leaving her father Mary went to inform Maud of what had takenplace. She had expected some surprise, but not the look of blankastonishment with which her news was received. 

"Mary, you cannot mean to do it, " she uttered, as soon as she was ableto speak. 

"By my troth, I know not what you mean, Maud, " said Mary, indignantly. 

"Prithee, tell me it is not true, dear; that it is all a fable aboutyour marrying Captain Stanhope, " said Maud, soothingly. 

"Marry, but it is true--true as that your name is Maud Harcourt, "replied Mary. 

Maud rose from her seat and paced up and down the room, and Mary, looking at her, could only think that she was disappointed. "Tell me, when did this take place?" said Maud, pausing in her walk and lookingearnestly in Mary's face. 

"Marry, but I know not why you should ask this question, " said Mary, indignantly. "Did he propose to you?" she asked, in a tone of bittersarcasm. 

Maud blushed crimson and turned away, but only for a minute. "Tell mewhen he asked you this?" she cried. "Prithee, tell me, Mary. I wish notto vex you, but this I would know. "

"Marry, you may know, it was last night, " said Mary, speaking calmly. 

"As he walked from the village?" asked Maud. 

"Nay, in the garden, after Bertram had left me, " said Mary. "I saw himwalking with you from the village, " she added. 

"Then it must have been after I came indoors, " said Maud. 

Mary bowed her head. "Even so, " she replied. Maud resumed her walk upand down the room, and Mary sat gazing at her until Maud came and threwherself on a cushion at her feet, and, forgetting the bitter words thathad been spoken only a minute or two before, she stooped and kissedMary's hands. This touched the proud girl's heart, and she said, "I hopeI have not offended you, Maud. "

"Prithee, no, " said Maud. "But I want you to tell me, Mary, do you lovethis Captain Stanhope?" Mary drew back. 

"Why do you ask this question?" she said. 

"Marry, because I greatly fear he loves not you, " said Maud, slowly. 

"But tell me does he love you?" said Mary, in a tone of sarcasm. 

Maud did not reply to this. She expected the young lady would be angry, but she was determined to do what she believed to be her duty. "Mary, sweetheart, we have been as sisters, " she said, "and I would you knewhow much I loved you; and by my faith, it is because of this I would bidyou be not too hasty in binding yourself to this Captain Stanhope! It ispride, not love, that has made him seek you. "

"Marry, then we are even, " said Mary, with a bitter laugh. "I thank you, Mistress Maud, for telling me of this, " she said, with a mock reverence, "for you have removed the last scruple I had in accepting him. " Whetherthis was true, or whether the gay manner was only put on, Maud could nottell, but it made her very unhappy, and instead of going down to thekeeping-room, to be watched by Mistress Mabel, she went to pay her usualvisit to Dame Coppins at once, instead of later on in the day. 

As she reached the blacksmith's corner she saw a little crowd gatheredround, and heard the sound of women crying; and when she drew near shefound it was the soldiers leaving with the spoil of the previous day'srevel--the six men who had taken service for the King. 

She had heard of it before she left home; but the thought that Rogermight meet and fight against the young master whom he loved almostovercame her now, and she could hardly restrain her tears when thedowncast-looking man ventured to say farewell as she was passing. 

"Farewell Roger, and Godspeed to you, and quickly bring this war to aclose, and you back to us. You will not forget to be kind to MasterHarry if ever he should need it, " added Maud; for it might be that as aroyalist soldier Roger would have that power some day, she thought; andthen she rode on down the lane, while the poor fellows who were goingaway bade wives and sisters cheer up and take example by Mistress Maud, whose lover would soon have to go to the wars too, for the villagers hadquite settled the affair for Captain Stanhope to their own satisfaction. 

As Maud went on to the cottage she wondered when the marriage was totake place between Mary and Captain Stanhope. It could not be for sometime, she thought--not until this dreadful war was over, and then shesighed as she thought of the misery this was causing. 

When she reached the cottage she found the old woman looking very weakand ill, and so feeble she could hardly speak. Maud was alarmed. "Whatis the matter, " she said; "are you ill?"

The poor old creature shook her head--"Not ill, " she gasped, "but, oh, so hungry. " Maud ran to the cupboard; there was not a bit of anything inthe shape of food, but a little pile of halfpence in one corner. 

Maud took these into her hand. "Why did you not buy yourself a ryeloaf?" she said. Dame Coppins shook her head. "They will not sellanything to me, " she said. 

It was true enough; the villagers had determined to starve out the witchif they could not drown her, and so every one had refused to supply herwith food, until the poor creature was brought to the verge ofstarvation. 

To remedy this, Maud now had either to bring the old woman's food fromthe Grange, or make her purchases herself in the village, so that a dayseldom passed without her being seen near the blacksmith's shed. 

One day when she was passing, a stranger rode up whose horse had lost ashoe, and he was obliged to stop to get the damage repaired. The manlooked travel-stained and tired, and the blacksmith, with his usual loveof gossip, wanted him to drink a horn of ale before he shod the horse. 

"Nay, that may not be, friend blacksmith, for I bear tidings of weightyimport. There has been a great battle in Yorkshire. " Maud, pausing tospeak 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 withLieutenant Cromwell's Ironsides, " said the man. "Is not this Hayslope?"he asked. 

[Illustration: 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 oneHarry Drury cometh from Hayslope, and he fought right bravely with theParliament men at Marston Moor, and now lieth sorely wounded andgrievously 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 shedid not know, and hardly cared. This one fact was enough for her; Harrywas wounded--wounded and ill--perhaps dying among strangers. It might behe was prisoner even, and then an ignominious traitor's death awaitedhim. All the darkest possibilities of his fate rushed to her mind as shewalked down the lane to the cottage. 

Here her grief was shared by Dame Coppins, who hardly knew what to sayto comfort her under such a trial, and could only point her to Him who, having "borne our griefs and carried our sorrows, " can sympathise andcomfort under the sorest trials. 

On reaching the Grange, Maud found that the news had travelled thitherbefore her--news of humiliation, that had put Captain Stanhope quite outof temper. 

"By my faith, I cannot believe it!" he was saying, as Maud entered thekeeping-room. "Prince Rupert defeated by that son of a brewer and hishandful of sorry prentice lads? Master Drury, what think you is likelyto happen, forsooth?"

"This varlet messenger, may be, is mistelling the news, " said MasterDrury, hoping it might be so, for he had thought the rebel troops wellnigh crushed out. 

Maud wondered whether he had heard the news concerning Harry, and lookedacross at Mistress Mabel, but that stern, impassive face told nothing, and Mary's, in its proud resolve, no more; and she dared not utter theforbidden name before so many, and so went in search of the children, toascertain from them what news had come. 

She saw in a moment that they had heard both items, for Bessie wassitting in a corner of the garden crying bitterly, while Bertram wasmarching up and down, telling her what he would do to rescue Harry whenhe was a man. 

[Illustration: BESSIE'S GRIEF FOR HARRY. ]

She sat down beside the little girl and tried to comfort her, but Bessiewould not be comforted. "It's very kind of you, Maud, " she sobbed, "butyou are not Harry's sister--not a Drury, like Mary and I. If Mary wouldonly be a little sorry for him, I shouldn't cry so much, but now he'sonly 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 knowinghow to express herself; "but you know you are not his sister, and so hewon't expect you to cry for him. "

"Marry, will he not, " said Maud, scarce able to keep from laughing. "Andwill he expect you to cry for him a great deal?" asked Maud, as thetears broke out afresh. 

"Mary won't, " sobbed Bessie; and she seemed bent upon doing her sister'sshare for her. 

Maud could not help shedding a few tears in company, and Bessie threwher 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 hewill expect me to do, and that is to comfort his little sister;" and shetook the little girl in her arms, and laid the hot tear-stained cheekagainst hers, and whispered gentle loving words, that soothed thetroubled heart. It was just what Harry would have done--just what hewould have her do, she knew, and she did it as though he were near andwatching her. 

For the next few days Captain Stanhope was in a restless state ofimpatience to ascertain whether the news brought to the village wascorrect, but they were not the days of newspapers, and an army might bewithin a few miles of Hayslope itself, and the inhabitants none thewiser; so it was not strange that he could hear nothing of the movementsof an army away in Yorkshire. 

But all suspense was at an end in a day or two. A messenger arrivedbearing despatches for Captain Stanhope, and in them mention was made ofthe disastrous battle of Marston Moor. These despatches were commandsfor the Captain to collect all the men he had been able to get in hisrecruiting tour, and join the main body of the army in the west ofEngland. 

So Mary's marriage, which was to have taken place in a few weeks, had tobe postponed until the autumn, or rather winter, for there could be nocertainty of his returning to Hayslope until then. There was always atruce of a few months during winter. Wars could not be carried onregardless of weather, as they are now, and thus it was that they oftenlasted years. 

After the departure of the Captain, life seemed to pass more slowly andmonotonously than ever at Hayslope Grange. Out of the direct main road, strangers rarely came that way, and so little was known of how eventswere tending in the mortal strife going on so near them. 

The trial of Archbishop Laud was still being carried on by the LondonParliament; Oxford was supporting the King in the combat with hissubjects, the north having yielded to Fairfax, the Parliamentarygeneral. This was all the news that came to Hayslope through all theremaining days of July and the sultry weeks of August. No word came fromHarry Drury, not a syllable that Maud was hungering to hear with ahunger that paled her cheek and was wasting her strength. 

The harvest--what there was--had to be gathered in by women for the mostpart; and when Maud looked at these going out to their unwonted toil, ababy in one hand and a reaping-hook in the other, and thought of theburden of sorrow they had to carry as well, she reproached herself forweakly yielding to her grief; and yet it was hard to combat sometimes. 

She had been compelled to rebel against Mistress Mabel's command to sitmore closely to her spinning and sewing. Not that she disliked preparingMary's house linen, but because she could not endure the scrutiny ofthose hard cold eyes, and to get away from them she did as Harry haddone many a time before--mounted Cavalier, and cantered away miles overthe fields, and then back to the village, to visit her friends there. 

The months of September and October passed slowly enough, but about themiddle of November Roger and a few of the other men came back to thevillage for the winter. It could not be said that they were not welcome, and yet provisions were now so dear, owing to the scanty harvest andheavy taxes, that every extra mouth to fill was felt as a heavy burdenby their distressed families; and then, being winter time, there wasscarcely any work they could do in the fields and gardens. 

Maud had hoped that she should hear something of Harry when the men cameback, and how much her returning health and strength had depended uponthis she did not know until the hope was taken away and the faintsickening languor again stole over her frame. It might have grown uponher more than it did, but the wants of the poor people in the village, and the demands of Mistress Mabel, that she should assist in thepreparations for Mary's wedding, left her very little time to spend insitting alone and thinking of Harry. 

Mary was to be married at Christmas, and go with Captain Stanhope toOxford. The two seemed mutually pleased with each other, and quitesatisfied with their bargain, but Maud could not tell whether they lovedeach other. She hoped they did, but Mary never gave her an opportunityof speaking upon this subject, and indeed the preparations for thecoming event seemed to occupy her mind so fully that she had no thoughtfor anything else. 

This wedding afforded the villagers the most satisfaction, perhaps, forMaster Drury was to give them an ox to be roasted on the green, and theprospect of a good dinner was very pleasant to them under the presentcircumstances. Captain Stanhope gave them a barrel of ale in which todrink his bride's health, but Mary seemed to think no one wantedanything but herself. 

She packed up all the books and little trifles lying about that hadbelonged to Harry, and when Maud ventured to remonstrate with her aboutthis, saying that Bertram would want them by-and-by if Harry did notreturn, she retorted, "Harry Drury never will return to this house, Maud, and Bertram will be expelled too if you continue to encourage himin thinking Harry right in what he has done. "

Maud looked surprised. "What can you mean?" she exclaimed. 

"Marry, nothing but what is true. You are teaching Bertram to thinkHarry right in rebelling against the King, and his father, too, "retorted Mary. 

"I do not think Harry is wrong in following the guidance of hisconscience, " said Maud, slowly; "but I have not sought to teach Bertramthat Harry's way is right for him. I have only told him to keep the fearof God before his eyes, and follow the teaching of His Holy Spirit, as Ibelieve Harry has done. "

"And so you think it is this that has made Harry a traitor, " said Mary, with rising anger. 

"I don't think Harry is a traitor, " said Maud, calmly. "It is the Kingwho has----"

"By my troth I will not listen to such dreadful words, " interruptedMary, and she went out of the room; but she evidently did not alter heropinion, for she confiscated to her own use every article that hadformerly belonged to her brother. 

After the wedding festivities were over, and Mistress Mary Stanhope haddeparted with her husband to Oxford, the house seemed more dull thanever, and Mistress Mabel more severe and exacting. 

About the middle of January came news that thrilled every one withhorror, and put Master Drury into a fever of mingled anger and sorrow. Aman had stopped at the blacksmith's shed on his way from London, andbrought the news that Archbishop Laud had been beheaded on Tower Hillthe day before he left. 

Mistress Mabel was speechless with indignation for a few minutes, andher first act was to take the bright cherry-coloured bow off Bessie'shair. 

The little girl looked up in surprise, and saw her aunt taking theruffles from her own neck and wrists. "This is not the time for suchbravery as this, " said the lady, looking angrily at the ribbons andruffles. Bessie wondered what they had to do with it, while MistressMabel stood upright, watching her brother as he walked up and down theroom, murmuring, "They have slain the Archbishop--murdered the Lord'sanointed. "

"For which all good Christians ought to fast and mourn, " put in MistressMabel; "and I hope, brother, that you will see to it that your householdis not lacking in this matter, " she added. 

"Nay, nay, I leave all such to you, " said Master Drury; "order whateveris seemly at this time. I know not what has come to this evil-mindedgeneration, " he added. 

"An evil generation they are, as you say, " quoth Mistress Mabel. "Wherewill their iniquity end? They will put forth their hand against the Kingnext, I trow. "

Bertram and Bessie shivered at the bare idea of such a thing, and Maud, who felt she must say something in defence of the Parliament, said, "Nay, nay, Mistress Mabel, they will not put forth their hand againstthe King's majesty. "

"But they will, I trow, if they have the power, " said the lady. "Andthat God may rescue this nation from their hands, it behoves us toappear before Him in decent raiment of mourning at this time. "

"Are we all to go into mourning?" asked Bessie, in some surprise. 

"Would you be wearing ribbons and ruffles, and such light vanities atthis time?" angrily demanded the lady. 

Bessie looked down, feeling very much ashamed of herself, but hardlyknowing how she had offended, until Bertram asked, "Will everybody wearmourning for the Archbishop, aunt?"

"Every honest Christian soul will nathless wish to do so, " repliedMistress Mabel, with a severe look at Bessie. 

The little girl felt the reproof, and when she went upstairs she putaway all her bright ribbons and the gay dresses that had been worn ather sister's wedding. "I don't mind wearing the black hood and wimple, Maud, " she said; "but then I thought people wore mourning because theyfelt sorry, and I can't feel so sorry about the Archbishop as I didabout Harry going away. "

"Of course not, dear, because----"

"But aunt seems to think we ought, " interrupted the little girl; "andfather never looked so sorry about Harry as he did to-day about theArchbishop. "

"Your father may not let us see how sorry he is about Harry, " said Maud, "but I am sure he is often thinking of him. "

Maud spoke of this as though she were sure it was so, as in truth shewas. She had noticed a great alteration in her guardian lately. His hairwas rapidly changing from brown to silver white, his tall erect form wasbowed as with the weight of an added twenty years; and she thought witha keen pang that if Harry did not soon come he would never see hisfather again. And then arose the question, where was Harry?--for no newshad come but that one voice from the battle-field, telling them he wassick and wounded. 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE WOUNDED MESSENGER. 

There was little fear that no fasts would be kept the month that theArchbishop was executed. So many were compelled to fast for want of foodthroughout England, that all the land might be said to mourn, althoughthey did not put on the outward semblance of it, as Mistress Mabel did. 

Just as the men were thinking of leaving their homes again in the earlyspring, came a faint rumour that peace might be established, and many aheart beat high with hope that the commissioners who were to meet atUxbridge, and negotiate a reconciliation between the King and hispeople, might be able to conclude terms of adjustment satisfactory toboth parties. Maud felt sure that peace would be established at lastwhen she heard the news, and Bertram asked her in a whisper if Harrywould come home then; but to this question she could only shake her headand look up at the clouds racing across the stormy February sky, andthink that Harry had probably gone to the Father's home where ambitionand injustice could never mar the peace of the one great family. 

She had come to this conclusion, because she thought if he were livinghe would surely have tried to see or communicate with his father beforethis, in spite of what had happened. 

The meeting at Uxbridge took place just as the first spring blossomsbegan to whisper that the earth was not the cold, lifeless thing itlooked; that God had not forgotten the seeds in the time of theirdarkness, but that out of this He had made them spring forth, andthrough this He had made them strong. Thus thinking as she walkedthrough the fields, Maud sometimes wondered whether these dark times wasEngland's winter, out of which righteousness and truth would spring, andbe more strong for the struggle they had endured. Of course to her thismeant that the people would return to the King, and be more firm intheir allegiance than ever, and she hoped that the first promise of sucha result had already taken place. 

But alas, for her, and the hopes of thousands like her, who had toendure silently, and witness misery they could not alleviate! thecommission broke up without anything being done, and men were hurriedfrom their homes to take up the sword, leaving the plough to be guidedby women's hands. Roger and the rest of his companions again leftHayslope, and Maud went in and out and tried to comfort the women fortheir loss. 

Master Drury seemed to feel the failure of the Uxbridge commission mostkeenly, although he did not say much about it; yet even Mistress Mabelcould not fail to notice the whitening hair and the failing strength ofher brother, and spoke to Maud about it too. She had noted the changelong since, and now she felt sure that secret grief for Harry waspreying upon her guardian's heart, and bowing him down with prematureold age, and yet she dare not mention the name it would have been arelief for both to utter and to hear spoken. 

So the spring passed into summer without any outward change at HayslopeGrange, except a short visit from Mistress Mary Stanhope. At the end ofJune came tidings of a battle that had been fought a fortnight before atNaseby, in Northamptonshire, where the King's army had been completelydefeated, leaving on the field five thousand prisoners, an immensequantity of war material; and what was worse than all for the Royalists, the King's private cabinet of papers and letters was captured. This newscame from Captain Stanhope, who had himself barely escaped being takenprisoner by Cromwell's Ironsides, and had got back to Oxford withouteven his sword. 

This news seemed to affect Master Drury most deeply, and one day hesuddenly announced to Mistress Mabel that he should join the royaltroops and fight for King Charles. The lady looked as if she had notheard aright, and said something about herb tea and going to bed; butMaster Drury silenced her by taking down his sword from where it hungagainst the wall, and ordering one of the servants to fetch hisjack-boots. 

[Illustration: MASTER DRURY TAKES DOWN HIS SWORD. ]

"Marry, but you are not going to the King now, " said Mistress Mabel, inaffright. 

"I am going to Oxford, " calmly spoke Master Drury; and during theremainder of the day he was occupied in making preparations for hisdeparture. 

When Mistress Mabel found her brother was bent upon leaving them, andfully determined to join the army, she suddenly professed to be in greatfear of the Parliament gaining all England, and begged her brother toremain and protect them--have the moat filled at once, and barricadesplaced round the house, for fear of an attack from Cromwell's army; forCromwell's name began to be the more prominent now, although Fairfax wasthe commander-in-chief. 

But Master Drury shook his head. "Cromwell will never come into Essex, "he said. "You forget King Charles has the Divine right to this land andits people. He will be the more firmly seated on his throne by-and-byfor these troubles, " he added. 

Before his departure he spoke to Maud, bidding her come to him at Oxfordif anything happened needing his presence at home. She could ride wellnow, he said, and Cavalier could bring her the whole journey. 

Maud looked almost as surprised to hear this as Mistress Mabel had donewhen her brother first announced his intention of joining the army, forshe had never been to Oxford in her life, and travelling was not verysafe even for a man now Prince Rupert's wild troopers were about. Butshe felt thankful for the permission to do this, though at the same timeshe hoped that she should not need it. 

Harvest-time was drawing near again now, and Mistress Mabel was morebusy than ever among the maids, and Maud spent all her time between thetwo children and the village. Sometimes Bessie and Bertram went with heron her visits of charity, and one or other occasionally read to DameCoppins from Harry's old Bible, or listened while the old woman toldthem some story of his kindness to her. One day as they were returningfrom a visit to the cottage, they were startled to see a crowd of womengathered round the blacksmith's shed, and Bertram, in his usualimpetuous fashion, ran forward to see what was the matter. Maud wasmounted on Cavalier, and Bessie on her brother's pony, while Bertram, being on foot, managed to edge himself to the front of the little crowd, and presently came running back, crying, "Maud, Maud, the man is dying!somebody has been beating him. " Several of the women were coming towardsher by this time, and she sprang from her horse and stepped forward tomeet them. 

"Prithee, what is the matter?" she asked, seeing their anxious faces. "Is the poor man much hurt?"

"By my faith, I think he's dying; but he says he _must_ get to Oxfordfirst, to deliver up some papers he is bearing to the King, " said one ofthe women. 

"And what saith the blacksmith to his going on his journey?" asked Maud. 

"That he will not live an hour with the wound he has received in hisside. Nought but keeping him quite still, as well as careful dressing, will stanch the bleeding, Martin says, and he knows of such matters. "

"Then he must not suffer the poor man to depart, " said Maud, in the toneof one accustomed to be obeyed, as she stepped up to the blacksmith. Shespoke loud enough for the stranger to hear, as she had intended; but hefeebly shook his head, while Martin completed the temporary bandaging ofhis wound. 

"Marry, stranger, you had better tarry here awhile, for your life willpay for this journey if you do not, " said the blacksmith. 

"Nay, nay, I must away to Oxford. I have been sore hindered already, andlives more valuable than mine depend upon the speedy delivery of thesepapers;" and as he spoke he attempted to rise, but fell back into theblacksmith's arms with a faint groan. 

"He must not undertake this journey, " said Maud; and she ordered him tobe carried into a cottage near, saying she would come and speak to himabout the papers as soon as he had somewhat revived. Meanwhile sheordered Martin to look to Cavalier, while the women attended to thestranger; and then she sent Bertram home with Bessie, and a message toMistress Mabel not to be alarmed if she did not come back to the Grangethat night. 

By that time the traveller had recovered from the fainting fit, and Maudwent into the cottage. "I am Mistress Maud Harcourt, and Master Drury ofthe Grange is my guardian, " she said. "He is at Oxford just now, but ifyou will entrust your despatches to me, I will take them to him there, and he will place them in the hands of those to whom they are directed. "

The stranger looked at the young lady's glowing resolute face, and laidhis hands upon the papers "I could trust you, " he said, "but will youswear that these shall not pass out of your hands, save to thosedirected to receive them?"

"I swear, " said Maud, solemnly. 

"It seemeth I must perforce stay here, " sighed the man. "Prince Rupert'stroops have chased me miles out of my way, or I should have reachedOxford ere this; and if it were not for the faintness that comes over mewhen I move, I would even now continue my journey. "

"I will explain all that, " said Maud, "but time presses. Now give me thepapers, for my horse is in readiness, and I would fain depart eremessengers come from Mistress Mabel to hinder me. "

It was a large packet, sealed with the seal of the Parliament, that thestranger delivered into her hands, and which she contrived to concealwithin her dress. Then the stranger gave her directions for her journey, for he it seemed was well acquainted with the road; and carefully notingthese in her mind, and looking at her purse to see she had money withher, she took her departure, the villagers scarcely comprehending thatshe was going to Oxford until she was out of sight. 

Then it was suggested that one of the lads could have gone instead, anda message came from Mistress Mabel, ordering Maud to return to theGrange at once; but she was some miles on her way by this time, forCavalier was fresh, and inclined for a sharp canter, and Maud kept himat full speed, for the pressure of those papers was a constant reminderthat life or death hung upon their speedy delivery. 

Whether it was the life of friend or foe she did not think. Whoever itwas, he was dear to some heart doubtless--dear as Harry was to her, andthat thought was enough to keep down all fatigue, and make her urgeCavalier forward whenever he seemed inclined to lag. It never occurredto her that if Prince Rupert's troops had driven the messenger so farout of the usual route, it would be impossible for her to escape them, neither did she think, even if she knew, the distance she had to travel. Hour after hour she urged her good horse forward, and as it was fine dryweather, the usual muddy, unkept roads were comparatively easy totravel, and she had accomplished a good portion of the journey beforethe evening closed in. 

She halted at a little village where the people were in a terriblyfrightened condition on account of the doings of Prince Rupert in theneighbourhood. Some of his followers had fired a farm-house the nightbefore, after carrying off all that they wanted; and the numbers ofpeople--quiet dwellers in lonely houses--or travellers, whom histroopers had wantonly killed, were very numerous, it seemed, and therewas great surprise that Maud should have undertaken such a journey. 

Maud felt surprised herself, now that something of the excitement wasover; she felt stiff and tired, too, with her long ride; and now thesetales about Prince Rupert made her shudder with fear as she knelt downin the little strange bedroom to thank God for His mercy, and ask it toofor Harry if he was still in this world. She prayed too that she mightbe kept through the remainder of her journey--that Prince Rupert mightbe kept from her road, and nothing be allowed to hinder her fromreaching Oxford in time to save the lives of these unknown prisoners. 

Then she laid down, and in total forgetfulness of Prince Rupert and hisbrutal troopers went to sleep, not waking until the morning, when sherecommenced her journey in renewed hope, and with a calm trust in God'sprotecting care. 

CHAPTER X. 

"ON, CAVALIER, ON!"

To Maud's great joy, the stately towers and ancient buildings of Oxfordat length rose before her. As she rode into the principal street of thecity she was met by a crowd of people who were talking loudly andeagerly, so that Maud had but little difficulty in making out the words. "Down with all parliament men! Shoot the traitors, and all the rebelarmy!" and many other speeches, convinced Maud something unusual hadtaken place, or was about to take place. 

Her cheeks grew pale with anxious fear as the bridle of her horse was atlength seized, and she was forced back against a wall; and then for thefirst time she noticed that a body of soldiers were drawing near, andbeyond them marched a number of downcast-looking men, evidentlyprisoners. Could it be that they were already on their way toexecution?--that the delivery of her papers would be too late to savethem? This thought almost maddened her, and turning her horse's head, she said, "On, Cavalier, on!" and at the same moment drew out herpacket, and held it high above her head. 

[Illustration: "ON CAVALIER, ON!"]

The effect of her words seemed magical--not upon her horse, but upon thesoldiers by whom she was now surrounded. The officer in command bowed asshe uttered the ringing words, "On, Cavalier, on!" and instead ofturning her back to the wall, called upon his men to halt, while Maudpassed through their midst, holding high the official-looking documentwhich she thought had gained her this privilege, but which in realitythe officer had hardly noticed. 

Quite unconsciously, Maud had used their password in addressing herhorse, and to this she owed it that she was allowed to pass through theranks, the officer believing she came with orders from the King to thosein charge of the prisoners. She heeded not the looks of the soldiers;indeed, she scarcely saw them, but rode straight on to where an officerstood waiting to demand her business, and why the cavalcade had beenstopped. 

Maud handed him her packet. "It concerneth the prisoners, " she said, panting with excitement. 

The officer took it from her hand, and rode back to another officerafter glancing at the address, and Maud, then face to face with thepale, weary-looking prisoners, glanced at them for the first time. Onewas looking at her and her horse most earnestly, but she did notrecognise him; and when the officer came back she rode on, wonderingwhether she had been in time to save them after all. The papers had beensent to the residence of the general in command, and they were stillhalting, to know the result of his reading them; and Maud was detained, lest she should be wanted too. They had not to wait long. In a fewminutes a soldier rode up with a note from the general. The prisonerswere to be taken back to their prison and the messenger released; andMaud was allowed to go on her way, while the whole cavalcade turnedback, to the great disappointment of the Oxford crowd, who would fainhave testified their loyalty to the King by making a holiday over theexecution of these rebels. 

Maud had no other care than to get out of the way of the crowd and thedetachments of soldiers; but as soon as a by-street was gained, and shewas left in comparative quiet, weariness and exhaustion almost overcameher, and for the first time she noticed that Cavalier had fallen lamewith his exertions. To get back to Hayslope Grange, as she had at firstintended, was therefore impossible, and she resolved to ask thehospitality of Mistress Stanhope for a few days. She hoped Master Drurywas there, but of this she could not feel sure; but whether or no he wasthere, she must go, and she made instant inquiry of a bystander forCaptain Stanhope's house. After some little difficulty she found it, andto her joy heard that Master Drury was there. He seemed much astonishedto see Maud, and Mistress Stanhope was in no little alarm at hertravel-stained appearance. 

"Has the rebel army appeared before Hayslope?" he asked, anxiously. 

"No, " answered Maud, faintly smiling. "Nothing had happened to Hayslopewhen I left. "

"Then wherefore hast thou come here?" asked Master Drury. "Has anythinghappened to Mistress Mabel or the children?"

"Nay, they are all well, " said Maud. "I came as a messenger, to bringcertain letters from London to the King. "

"Marry, now be truthful, Mistress Maud, " said Mary, "and tell us thouart come to see the gay city of Oxford. "

"Nay, nay; I came not for that, " said Maud. "I have ridden hard to reachhere in time, so hard that Cavalier hath fallen lame with his journey, and needs rest more than I do. "

"Then I will order Cavalier's rest and refreshment while Mary looketh toyour wants, " said Master Drury; and he went out at once, leaving the twoladies alone. Mistress Stanhope was proud to play the hostess to her oldcompanion, and as soon as she had changed her dress, and had somerefreshment, she insisted upon showing her new and fashionable house, inspite of Maud's evident weariness. At length she was allowed to take upa book and sit down in peace, for some other visitors had called, andMary was obliged to go to them. 

The book Maud had taken up was quite a new one, just published, andwritten by Master John Milton, a schoolmaster of London. It was a volumeof poems, and Maud was soon absorbed in reading "Penseroso. " Marysuddenly entering the room some time afterwards quite startled her, andthe book slipped from her hand on to the floor. But Mary did not stay, she had only come for something to show her visitor; and as Maud pickedup the book, she went out again, and did not see how pale Maud hadsuddenly grown, as she sat and stared at the inner cover of the book. 

There was nothing very remarkable there, --only, "Mistress Stanhope, froman old friend. Oxford, 1645. " But Maud knew that Harry's hand had tracedthose letters, and she wondered how it was he was at Oxford, and whetherhe was there now. When Mary came back Maud was still staring at her namein the book. 

"Marry, what are you looking at?" asked the young matron, glancing overher shoulder. 

"Harry wrote this?" gasped Maud. 

"I suppose he did, " coolly spoke Mary; "but he had the grace to concealthe fact that I was his sister. "

Maud had noticed that he wrote "friend" instead of "brother. "

"Why should he do this?" she said. 

"Prithee, Maud, will you never see how he has disgraced our name?" saidMary, impatiently. "Nay, nay, you have not seen my father's misery sincehe hath been here, and how closely he hath kept himself shut up, lestany should hear his name. "

"But why should he do this?" asked Maud. 

"Why?" uttered Mary, "when all men are talking of the traitor rebel, Harry Drury, who was this day to be executed. "

Her voice faltered as she said the last words, although she tried toappear unmoved as she added, "But the execution is postponed, I hear. "

"Only postponed!" gasped Maud, who sat with widely staring eyes. 

"The letters were to save their lives, I heard. "

"What letters?" asked Mary. 

"Those I brought from Hayslope, where the parliament messenger liessorely wounded, " said Maud. 

Mary did not wait to hear more, but went to meet her husband, who wascoming up the stairs. The gaily dressed officer bowed to Maud as heentered a few minutes afterwards, but she could see he looked annoyed. 

"Good-morrow, lady messenger, " he said. "You did but reach Oxford intime, and if you had been an hour later 'twere better for his Majesty, Itrow. "

"Prithee, tell me why?" said Maud. 

"There would have been six stout-hearted rebels the less to fightagainst King Charles, " said Captain Stanhope. 

"Are the prisoners released?" asked Maud, with an exclamation of joy. 

"Nay, nay, not yet; but we cannot afford to execute them, for the rebelarmy hath five thousand of our loyal troopers, and they propose toexchange some of these for the handful we have here in our prison, andHarry Drury is specially named as one of them--Harry Drury and GilbertClayton, whom Prince Rupert's men captured some time since. "

To describe Maud's feelings when she heard how near Harry had been to anignominious death would be impossible. For a time she could only bow herhead in her hands, and weep out her thanksgiving to God for His greatmercy; but by degrees the hope that she should soon see him graduallystole over her, until she recollected that Harry would scarcely ventureto call upon them, even though he had seen her in the town; for shedoubted not but that the prisoner who had looked at her so closely wasHarry, although she had failed to recognise him. 

When Master Drury came in soon afterwards, it was evident he had heardthe news, although Harry's name was not mentioned. 

"Maud, " he said, drawing his chair close to hers as soon as they wereleft alone, "you heard that the King's cabinet had been captured at thebattle of Naseby?"

Maud bowed. "Hath it been retaken?" she asked. 

Master Drury shook his head. "Prithee, I would it had never existed, " hesaid, "or that I knew not aught of it. "

"Have you seen the King's letters?" asked Maud. 

"All the world will see them shortly, " sighed the gentleman. "The rebelshave published some of his papers, calling it 'The King's CabinetOpened. '"

"Then all the world will know what a just and gentle monarch he is, "said Maud. 

"Alas! they will see that what these rebels say of him is true; that hehath tried to sell his people to a foreign foe, " groaned Master Drury. "All his doings with the Irish rebels, and his negotiations with foreignprinces to bring troops over here, are given in these papers. "

Maud started to her feet, flushed with indignation. "It is not true, "she said. "It would be unkingly--beneath the majesty of our royalCharles. It is a fabrication of the Parliament rebels. "

"I would fain think so if I could, " sighed Master Drury; "but, Maud, Ihave heard from those who knew all the King's matters that these lettersare true copies of what were in the cabinet. "

Maud dropped into her seat as though she had been shot. "The King isfalse and untrue, then, " she gasped, "and Harry is right after all. "

"Hush, prithee, hush!" said Master Drury. "You know not what you say, Maud;" but he did not speak as though he were angry that Harry's namehad been uttered. 

"Marry, but I cannot hold my peace when true and noble men are riskingtheir lives to fight for this false king, " said Maud. 

"I will not fight, " quietly spoke Master Drury. "I will go back with youto Hayslope. "

"Prithee, but you will see Harry before you leave Oxford?" said Maud, afaint colour stealing into her cheek as she spoke. 

Master Drury was deeply moved. It was evident he was longing to see hisson, but he said in a faint voice, "Nay, nay, I dare not see him. MaryStanhope has spread the report that I have cast him off as a traitorrebel, and my loyalty to the King would be suspected if I were to seehim now;" and he heaved a deep sigh as he spoke. 

"But it is true that you think the King false?" said Maud. "Harry didthe same, and avowed it. "

Master Drury winced at the implied reproach. "Nay, nay, I cannot go sofar as that, " he said; "if I were I should be a rebel. "

"Then you must be false to yourself to _seem_ true to the King, " saidMaud, boldly; "and that is why there are so many true and honest menamong the rebels, and why they are so strong. It is not their hatred ofoppression only, nor their wish to save England's liberties, as theysay; but they cannot do otherwise if they would be true tothemselves--true to God, who has said, 'Fear God, ' first, and then'Honour the king. '"

Maud was speaking for Harry, and that gave her courage, or she wouldnever dared to have said so much to her guardian. But it was all invain. Family honour demanded the sacrifice of principle--at least, sothought Master Drury--and he would not allow Maud to seek an interviewwith Harry, or claim acquaintance with the all but executed traitor. 

CHAPTER XI. 

MYSTERIES. 

As soon as Maud had sufficiently rested she returned to Hayslope withMaster Drury, who, now that he had made up his mind to do so, was allimpatient to return home. His visit to Oxford had been a very painfulone, for his faith in the King had been completely broken, and yet hehad been forced to hear of his son's condemnation to an ignominiousdeath, for principles he began dimly to see were right. 

The last lingering remnants of loyalty forbade his seeking to see thatson, as much as the fear of offending his son-in-law, and yet he longedto fold Harry in his arms and look in his face once more. 

When the travellers reached Hayslope they found the villagers in awildly excited state. Many of their relatives who had been fighting atNaseby were held prisoners by the Parliament, and of course could notreturn home this winter; and lads too young to serve as soldiers, andthe women, with Martin the blacksmith at their head, were wildlyclamouring for the destruction of the Parliament and all the rebels. Thepoor wounded messenger had most mysteriously disappeared, Maud heard, but on questioning some of them more closely, it seemed that he had morethan once been threatened by Martin, if he would not swear to serve theKing, while he stoutly refused, and at last he left the village with hiswound only half healed. 

Poor old Dame Coppins was of course accused of having some hand in thisbusiness. Without the help of witchcraft the man could not have escaped, the women said, and for once Maud felt thankful to the unknown witch, whoever she might be, who had done this service. She believed inwitchcraft almost as fully as the ignorant villagers, but she did notbelieve Dame Coppins was a witch simply because she did not choose totell all the village her business--where she had come from, and what hadinduced her to take the lonely cottage outside Hayslope, --and this wasthe only reason they had for supposing her a witch. 

Maud had tried to reason them out of this, had told them she was a poorwidow who had seen a great deal of trouble, and preferred a solitarylife; that she loved the Bible and feared God as much as any of them;but it was all of no avail. That any one could exist without gossip wasto them impossible to understand, and they shook their heads sadly, andthought Maud bewitched herself when she talked about Dame Coppins. 

So the cottage in the lane was as lonely as ever, in spite of thepatronage extended to the widow by Maud and the two children at theGrange. 

For a day or two after her return Maud was not able to go to thecottage, for Master Drury had scarcely reached home when he was takenseriously ill, and Mistress Mabel's herbs and decoctions failed torelieve his sickness for some time. Bertram and Bessie, however, wenteach day, and brought back the report that the widow had seemed veryjoyful when she heard that Maud had returned, and that her errand hadbeen so successful as to gain the prisoners their freedom. 

Maud smiled when she heard this. "Marry, but their freedom is not gainedyet, " she said, with something of a sigh. 

"Dame Coppins says they are free, and on their way to London, " saidBessie. 

Maud opened her eyes. Was the old woman a witch after all? Bertram'snext words quite confirmed her in this wild notion. "Maud, " he said in awhisper, "do you know that Harry was one of the prisoners. "

"Who told you so?" asked Maud, quickly, for it had been agreed that thisintelligence should not reach the children, or even Mistress Mabel. 

"Dame Coppins told me, " replied Bertram; "she said he would have beenshot if you had not gone to Oxford with those papers, " he added. 

Maud actually shuddered with horror as the boy said this. "Bertram, youmust not go to Dame Coppins again, " she said, quickly. 

"Why not?" asked Bertram, in surprise. 

"Prithee, I scarce can tell you, but--but you will keep it quite asecret, Bertram, even from Bessie, " said Maud--"this dreadful thing I amgoing to tell you. "

Bertram nodded. "Isn't she a good old woman?" he asked. 

"Bertie, she's a witch, " whispered Maud, in a tone of horror. 

Bertram started back pale with fright. "I don't believe it, Maud, " hesaid: "she couldn't talk about God taking care of Harry, and pray forHim to do it, if she was a wicked old witch. I do believe God took yousafe to Oxford in time because she prayed so much about it, and thatHe's kept Harry safe in all the battles, that he might come home to usagain in answer to Dame Coppins's prayers. "

Bertram spoke quickly, almost passionately, but Maud only shook her headsadly. "I thought she was a good woman, " she said, "but how could sheknow what happened at Oxford if she was not a witch? Nobody here knowsthat Harry was in prison--not even Mistress Mabel or the servants, sothat no one could tell her about it. "

But Bertram was still unwilling to believe in Dame Coppins's wickedness, until Maud said pettishly, "I do believe she has bewitched you, Bertie, and you must not go to see her again. "

"But I will go, " said Bertram, beginning to lose his temper. 

"Then I shall ask Mistress Mabel to forbid you going beyond the moat, "said Maud. 

This threat, which Bertram knew she would put into execution, made himgive the required promise not to go and see Dame Coppins until Maud haddiscovered who had told her about Harry; which Maud feeling sure was adark mystery, that no one would ever be able to penetrate, made up hermind not to try, now that she had extorted this promise from Bertram. 

Some thoughts of the poor old woman's anxiety troubled her after sheleft Bertram, and she wondered what effect their neglect might have uponthe mind of the villagers; but on this she resolved to keep eyes andears alike open whenever she went amongst them, so that she mightprotect her from violence should any be attempted or contemplated. 

But it seemed that the people had forgotten the witch in their rageagainst the "Parliament rebels, " and Maud could not discover whether theold woman was being supplied with food or not; and very soon the fearthat she would be starved to death began to take possession of her mind. To satisfy herself upon this point she resolved to walk down the lanelate one afternoon, when she would not be expected. Before she hadreached the cottage, however, she saw a litter borne between two mencarried into the garden, and then from this was lifted what looked likea huge roll of cloth, and taken into the house, while Dame Coppins cameand looked all round to make sure no one was in the lane. She did notsee Maud, for she had concealed herself behind a tree, but the younglady had a good view of the old woman's face, and saw that there waslittle fear of her dying of starvation yet. As soon as she could sheslipped out of her hiding-place and walked quickly up the lane. She wasafraid of going near the cottage now, and she wondered what freshwickedness Dame Coppins had been at. No wonder the people were afraid ofher when such mysterious doings as that were going on. 

Maud thought she had more than sufficient evidence to prove that DameCoppins was a witch now, and began seriously to consider whether sheought not to inform against her; and she might have done this, onlyMaster Drury was taken ill again. Maud began to think this must be thewitch's work, when all Mistress Mabel's remedies failed, but she darednot say so, for fear the servants should tell the villagers, and theyshould attempt to drown her again; and so she suggested that a physicianshould be sent for to see her guardian. Mistress Mabel looked scornfulat first, but finally relented, and a boy was despatched to the town, and returned with the grave-looking doctor, in plumed hat, scarletcloak, and immense ruffles at his wrists. He looked grand enough to doanything if grandeur would do it, but he shook his head when he heardall Master Drury's ailments. Beyond this he would not commit himself, and so very little information was gained from his visit, and they couldonly wait in hope that his medicine would soon effect some improvementon the patient. 

Meanwhile news had arrived that Prince Rupert had been compelled tosurrender Bristol and several other places in the west, and that anotherbattle disastrous to Charles had been fought at Rowton Moor. The Kinghad been completely defeated, and compelled to retire to Oxford for thewinter, and Captain Stanhope and his wife were coming to Hayslope. Thiswas the news brought by one or two of the men who came back to thevillage to tell of the death or imprisonment of others who had goneforth with them that sweet spring day a few months before. So the wintercame in gloomy enough, and men grew fiercer each day about the strifethat was raging in the land. In Hayslope all the rage was against theLondon Parliament, and many vowed that if one of Cromwell's troopersshowed himself there he should be killed, whoever he might be. Thisthreat did not disturb Maud much, even if she heard it, for she did notthink it was likely any of the Parliament men would come there, and shecould only feel glad that the messenger had gone away before the arrivalof these half-frenzied men. She still visited occasionally among thevillagers, and contributed to their wants as far as she could; but agood deal of her time was occupied with Master Drury now, and DameCoppins was almost forgotten, apparently. 

She was therefore greatly surprised one day to receive a message from avillage lad, saying she was wanted down the lane. She had no doubt whowanted her, but she did not intend going; she would not give DameCoppins the opportunity of bewitching her any more; and so merelysaying, "Prithee, I will think about it, " she walked home as fast as shecould. 

That evening, about six o'clock, just as they were about to assemble forsupper, one of the maids came to her and whispered that she was wanted;a man, who refused to say who he was or where he came from, demanded tosee her. 

Maud shivered: such mysterious messages were disagreeable, and she wasjust about to say she would not go, when Mistress Mabel appearing in thepassage settled the matter; for had she heard her refuse, there wouldhave been an instant inquiry, and the lady would not have rested untilshe found out all about the supposed witch and Maud's charities in thevillage. 

So to prevent this she threw a cloak over her head, and followed themaid, without speaking, to where a muffled figure stood outside thedoor. She had only stepped off the threshold, when a gust of wind blewthe door close, and at the same moment her wrist was seized, and she wasdragged away from the house; and before she could even scream, or giveany alarm, she was lifted on to a horse, and the man sprang up beforeher, and galloped away into the village. 

[Illustration: ABDUCTION OF MAUD. ]

All the horrible tales Maud had ever heard of people being carried offby witches rushed to her mind when she saw that they were turning roundby the blacksmith's shed. All was dark and still, but she tried toscream, in hopes of raising some alarm; but fear had paralyzed hertongue, and she could not utter a sound. She was like one in all thehorrors of a nightmare, and believed she was on a phantom horse, although she could hear it splashing though the wet mud, precisely asCavalier did the day before, when she was out riding with MistressStanhope. 

At length they stopped just opposite the widow's cottage, as Maudexpected, for she had no doubt that this ride was of the witch'splanning; and feeling powerless to resist, she suffered herself to belifted down, and expected to be carried into the house. But instead ofthis, a familiar, though scarcely remembered, but very human voice, said, "Go in, Mistress Maud, I will look after Cavalier. " But Maud didnot move, although the man stepped to the horse's head. Before she couldmake up her mind, however, to run away, the cottage door opened, and aweak, quivering voice, said, "Roger, Roger, is that you?"

Without answering, the man left the horse and came to Maud. "Prithee, benot so sorrowful, " he said; "there's hope for him yet, if we can onlyget a physician to him soon, and Dame Coppins says----"

But Maud staggered back as he would have led her into the house. "Tellme what it is, and who you are, " she gasped. 

The man was perplexed. "Marry, but you know me, Mistress Maud. I'mRoger, Master Drury's servant, and the letter told all about the rest, Itrow. "

What the "rest" was Maud had not time to ask, for at that moment thecottage door opened again, and Dame Coppins drew her inside. 

CHAPTER XII. 

HARRY'S RETURN. 

Suddenly stepping out of the darkness into the lighted room, Maud couldnot distinguish any object at first, and only heard as in a dream DameCoppins's words, "Be calm, Mistress Maud, for he is very weak, I trow. "Then, looking across the room, she saw some one lying on a bed withhands eagerly outstretched towards her, and a faint voice uttered, "Maud, Maud, come to me; let me hold your hand once more. " The sound ofthat feeble pleading voice brought back Maud's bewildered senses. "Harry, " she gasped, "Oh, my Harry!" and she was kneeling by the lowbed, kissing the thin white hands. 

[Illustration: MEETING OF MAUD AND HARRY. ]

For a few minutes no one came near them, and Maud knelt there sobbing, for her overstrained feelings would have vent, in spite of her effort tocontrol them. 

Harry was the first to regain composure, and smoothing the soft braidsof her hair, he said, "I began to fear you would never forgive me, Maud;and I could not die without your forgiveness. "

"Forgive you!" repeated Maud. "I have wanted to ask you to forgive mefor speaking as I did the morning you went away. "

"I have nothing to forgive, " said Harry. "You could not but believe Iwas a traitor, as you said, in refusing to serve the King. "

"Nay, nay, but I ought to have believed you were acting conscientiously, although I could not see things as you saw them. I was hard, uncharitable, cruel, Harry. "

"Nay, nay, Maud; cruel, when at Oxford you saved my life?"

"I did not know it was to save you, " murmured Maud. 

Harry looked disappointed, and dropped the hand he was holding. "Maud, when I saw you there, riding through the soldiers, I thought it was forme you came, although you had given your heart and hand to another. "

Maud stared. "Given heart and hand to another!" she repeated. 

"Hush! hush!" said Harry, "my secret shall die with me. I would not evenask about you when I came here, but suffer me to call you Maud thelittle while I stay. "

"What other name should I be called?" asked Maud, in surprise. 

"Nay, nay, I cannot play now, Maud, " said Harry, "I would not evensuffer a word to be spoken about you until I heard Captain Stanhope andhis wife were coming from Oxford, and then I roused myself to write thatletter, for I longed to see you once again, as the companion of mychildhood and the friend----"

"Prithee, I have received no letter, " said Maud. 

"Marry, but I sent one, and the messenger said he had delivered it intothe hand of Mistress Stanhope herself, " said Harry. 

"But I am not Mistress Stanhope, " said Maud, smiling. 

Harry raised himself in bed, and looked earnestly into her face. "Youare not the wife of Captain Stanhope?" he repeated. 

"No, it is Mary who is married, " said Maud. 

Harry fell back on his pillow, and Roger and Dame Coppins were obligedto administer some restoratives; but the moment he had revived he lookedround for Maud, and feebly murmured her name. 

"I am with you, Harry dear, " she whispered, and took his hand, whileDame Coppins told the story of how he had been brought there in a littersome weeks before by Roger and the messenger, who had fled to hercottage from the violence of the villagers. The man had remained withher until he recovered from his wound, and had told her who were theprisoners at Oxford, and the certainty of their release if the letterswere only delivered in time; and the old woman's joy on hearing fromBertram that Maud had reached Oxford as she did, unloosed her tongueand thus brought upon herself the charge of witchcraft. Maud feltheartily ashamed of her hasty judgment now, and when she heard howgreatly Harry had longed to see her, she felt more grieved than everthat she had stayed away from the cottage. Dame Coppins had feltanxious, when day after day passed and no one came from the Grange, forshe began to fear some of them had heard she had strange visitors, forit was the messenger who had been with her that informed Harry it wasdangerous for him to go to the village even to see his father, andpersuaded him to come to Dame Coppins's cottage, and wait for somechance to send to his father secretly. Roger came with him, for Harrywas too ill when he left London to travel alone, and all Dame Coppins'sherb tea had failed to do him any good; and so at last, feeling sure hehad not long to live, he wrote a letter to Maud, enclosing one to begiven to his father, asking his forgiveness, and begging he would comeand see him. This was addressed to Mistress Stanhope, and delivered toher, but which she took care no one else should hear of, destroying herfather's letter as well as her own. 

Maud did not hear this all at once. Harry could say but little more thatnight beyond how he had longed for her after the letter was sent, andhow disappointed he was that she did not come. 

"But what made you think I was Mistress Stanhope?" asked Maud. 

"Roger told me you were about to be married when he left the villagelast summer. We met in a slight skirmish soon after I recovered from mywounds, and enemies though we ought to have been, we could not helpexchanging a few friendly words; and it was because I knew he loved metruly, despite of the King's quarrel, that I asked his release, toattend me when I came home. "

"Yes, Harry, you must come home, " said Maud, in a determined tone. 

"Yes, I am almost there, " murmured Harry; "but it is harder to leavenow, Maud, than before I saw you, and heard about this mistake. "

"Nay, nay, but it is to the Grange you must come, Harry, " said Maud, with a faint blush. "Your father is ill, but the sight of you will dohim more good than all the physician can do; and if you are there thedoctor can attend to your wants as well. "

But Harry shook his head. "I have longed to see my father and the oldGrange, Maud; but you must ask his forgiveness and blessing now. Icannot move from here. "

"Nay, nay, but you must try, Harry, " said Maud, almost wildly; "for mysake, " she added, in a whisper. 

Harry looked at the pleading face. "You forget, " he said, "I have vowednever to set foot inside the Grange again. I came to Hayslope to ask myfather's forgiveness, but not to go to the Grange. "

"It was a proud, rash vow, " said Maud. "Your father has much to give upin receiving you, and it is but right you should first seek him. "

Harry did not know how much he had indulged this proud, bitter spirit, until now, and it was only after much pleading from Maud that heconsented to give it up. She obtained a promise from him, however, thathe would come to the Grange before she left, and then she went homeagain, under Roger's guidance, to perform the more difficult task ofwinning a welcome for him there. As Cavalier trotted along her brain wasbusy upon the question how she should do this, and at length sheresolved to mention what had happened to no one but Master Drury. ToMistress Mabel's questioning she would answer she had been to see someone who was ill in the village, for if she and Mary heard Harry waslikely to return to his home, they would oppose it, she knew. Thehousehold had become somewhat accustomed to Maud's erratic doings bythis time, and so little wonder was expressed that she did not come intothe keeping-room to supper. Every one supposed she was in her own room, and so at the usual hour the watch dogs were set upon their guard andthe house locked up, and by the time Maud got there every light wasextinguished but the little lamp burning in Master Drury's room. Theapproach of Cavalier, therefore, at that unseasonable hour, was thesignal for all the dogs to set up a furious barking, and all thehousehold was aroused. Captain Stanhope was the first to make hisappearance at an open window, and demand the reason of the disturbance, warning the intruders that if they came a step nearer the house he woulddischarge his musket at them. 

Maud hardly knew what to do, but begged Roger to let her reply, hopingthe gentleman would recognise her voice; but he failed to do this forsome time, until, assured it was a woman who was speaking, he consentedto come down and open the door, as soon as all the servants were armedto resist any attack that might be made. 

Maud could not help laughing, and yet the dilemma was a serious one justnow, as she knew she should have to give an account of herself toeverybody. At length the door was opened, and Maud walked in past therow of servants, and upstairs to where Mistress Mabel, with Bertram andBessie, were shivering in the gallery with fright and cold. 

Mistress Mabel was speechless with anger, and seizing Maud's wrist, marched her into Master Drury's room at once. "Now, Master Drury, youwill nathless make this wilful girl give an account of herself, " saidthe lady, and she sat down; while Captain Stanhope and the rest cameinto the room, and the servants crowded round the door to hear what hadhappened. 

"Marry, I would speak to Master Drury alone, " said Maud. 

"Nay, nay, you must speak out before us all, unless it is some shamefuldeed you would tell of, " said Mistress Mabel and Mary both in a breath. 

Maud turned and looked at Mary. "You know what I have to tell, " shesaid, angrily, "for you had a letter from Harry, telling his father hewas dying, and craved his forgiveness. "

Master Drury raised himself in bed. "You have seen my son--my Harry!" heexclaimed, eagerly, looking at Maud. 

But Captain Stanhope stepped forward. "You forget, " he whispered, "youhave no children but Mary and Bessie. Even the boy Bertram has turned tofollow his brother's way of thinking. "

"Nay, nay, " said the old man, pleadingly. "I must see my son, my Harry, before I die. Where is he? Where is he?" he asked of Maud. 

"He will come to-morrow, " replied Maud; "he is ill--very ill, but mayget better if he has a physician. "

"Tell me all about him, Maud; you saved his life, I know. "

Bertram and Bessie were almost as eager as their father to hear allabout their brother, and so in the hearing of them all, Maud told howshe had been fetched to the cottage that evening to see Harry. 

Master Drury would have had him brought to the Grange that night, had itbeen possible, but was at length persuaded to wait until the morning, onMaud promising to go down and prepare him for the removal as soon as itwas light. 

Captain Stanhope and his wife were the only ones who did not rejoice atthe thought of Harry's return, and it was easy to see why they were sodisappointed. The Captain, having an eye to Mary's wealth when hemarried her, had done all he could to increase Master Drury's angeragainst his son, and even persuaded him to disinherit Bertram in favourof Mary. Now the hopes this had raised were all crushed, and the nextday, before the litter arrived with Harry, the disappointed pair hadleft for Oxford. Mistress Mabel, finding her nephew's return wasinevitable, wisely made the best of it, and accorded a grim welcome, hoping they would not all be beheaded by-and-by for sheltering atraitor. 

The meeting between the long-estranged father and son we will pass overin silence. Harry had not been at the Grange long before he began toimprove, and soon hinted that, instead of a funeral, there would have tobe a wedding for him. Master Drury too began to grow stronger, but theoverthrow of his faith in King Charles was a blow he could not recoverentirely; and although he confessed to his son that he believed he wasright in espousing the cause of the Parliament, yet he begged him not toleave the Grange again while he lived, a promise Harry was the morewilling to give since his health would not allow him to join the armyagain, and Maud had consented to be his wife early in the spring. 

Mistress Mabel's fear of being beheaded for receiving her nephew wasquite groundless, and even Captain Stanhope was glad to ask the interestand protection of the man he had sought to injure when the Royalistswere ultimately defeated and the Commonwealth established. Before this, however, Harry succeeded his father as Master Drury of Hayslope Grange, for the old man never held up his head after the death of King Charles, and died a few months after the King was beheaded. His last days werecalm and tranquil. "By the grace of Christ, " he was wont to say--"he hadconquered his pride and prejudice, which had brought such misery toHayslope Grange. "