The Children of the New Forest

"You would soon tire of it, Chaloner; you were made for active exertion and bustling in the world."

"Nevertheless, I think, under two such amiable and pretty mistresses, I could stay well contented here; it is almost Arcadian. But still it is selfish for me to talk in this way; indeed, my feelings are contrary to my words."

"How do you mean, Chaloner?"

"To be candid with you, Edward, I was thinking what a pity it is that two such sweet girls as your sisters should be employed here in domestic drudgery, and remain in such an uncultivated state—if I may be pardoned for speaking so freely—but I do so because I am convinced that, if in proper hands, they would grace a court; and you must feel that I am right."

"Do you not think that the same feelings have passed in my mind, Chaloner? Indeed, Humphrey will tell you that we were speaking on the same subject but an hour ago. You must, however, be aware of the difficulty I am in: were I in possession of Arnwood and its domain, then indeed—but that is all over now, and I presume I shall shortly see my own property, whose woods are now in sight of me, made over to some Roundhead, for good services against the Cavaliers at Worcester."

"Edward," replied Chaloner, "I have this to say to you, and I can say it because you know that I am indebted to you for my life, and that is a debt that nothing can cancel: if at any time you determine upon removing your sisters from this, recollect my maiden aunts at Portlake. They can not be in better hands, and they can not be in the hands of any person who will more religiously do their duty toward them, and be pleased with the trust confided to them. They are rich, in spite of exactions; but in these times, women are not fined and plundered as men are; and they have been well able to afford all that has been taken from them, and all that they have voluntarily given to the assistance of our party. They are alone, and I really believe that nothing would make them more happy than to have the care of the two sisters of Edward Beverley—be sure of that. But I will be more sure of it if you will find means of sending to them a letter which I shall write to them. I tell you that you will do them a favor, and that if you do not accept the offer, you will sacrifice your sisters' welfare to your own pride—which I do not think you would do."

"Most certainly I will not do that," replied Edward; "and I am fully sensible of your kind offer; but I can say no more until I hear what your good aunts may reply to your letter. You mistake me much, Chaloner, if you think that any sense of obligation would prevent me from seeing my sisters removed from a position so unworthy of them, but which circumstances have driven them to. That we are paupers, is undeniable, but I never shall forgot that my sisters are the daughters of Colonel Beverley."

"I am delighted with your reply, Edward, and I fear not that of my good aunts. It will be a great happiness to me when I am wandering abroad to know that your sisters are under their roof, and are being educated as they ought to be."

"What's the matter, Pablo?" said Humphrey to the former, who came running, out of breath.

"Soldiers," said Pablo, "plenty of them, gallop this way—gallop every way."

"Now, Chaloner, we must get ourselves out of this scrape, and I trust that afterward all be well," said Edward. "Bring the horses out to the door; and, Chaloner, you and Grenville must wait within; bring my horse out also, as it will appear as if I had just ridden over. I must in to change my dress. Humphrey, keep a look-out and let us know when they come."

Chaloner and Edward went in, and Edward put on his dress of secretary. Shortly afterward, a party of Roundhead cavalry were seen galloping toward the cottage. They soon arrived there, and pulled up their horses. An officer who headed them addressed Humphrey in a haughty tone, and asked him who he was.

"I am one of the verderers of the forest, sir," replied Humphrey, respectfully.

"And whose cottage is that? and who have you there?"

"The cottage is mine, sir; two of the horses at the door belong to two troopers who have come in quest of those who fled from Worcester, the other horse belongs to the secretary of the intendant of the forest, Master Heatherstone, who has come over with directions from the intendant as to the capture of the rebels."

At this moment, Edward came out and saluted the officer.

"This is the secretary, sir, Master Armitage," said Humphrey, falling back.

Edward again saluted the officer, and said—

"Master Heatherstone, the intendant, has sent me over here to make arrangements for the capture of the rebels. This man is ordered to lodge two troopers as long as they are considered necessary to remain; and I have directions to tell any officer whom I may meet, that Master Heatherstone and his verderers will take good care that none of the rebels are harbored in this direction; and that it will be better that the troops scour the southern edge of the forest, as it is certain that the fugitives will try all that they can to embark for France."

"What regiment do the troopers belong to that you have here?"

"I believe to Lambert's troop, sir; but they shall come out and answer for themselves. Tell those men to come out," said Edward to Humphrey.

"Yes, sir, but they are hard to wake, for they have ridden from Worcester; but I will rouse them."

"Nay, I can not wait," replied the officer. "I know none of Lambert's troops, and they have no information to give."

"Could you not take them with you, sir, and leave two of your men instead of them; for they are troublesome people to a poor man, and devour every thing?" said Humphrey, submissively.

"No, no," replied the officer, laughing, "we all know Lambert's people—a friend or enemy is much the same to them. I have no power over them, and you must make the best of it. Forward! men," continued the officer, saluting Edward as he passed on; and in a minute or two they were far away.

"That's well over," observed Edward. "Chaloner and Grenville are too young-looking and too good-looking for Lambert's villains; and a sight of them might have occasioned suspicion. We must, however, expect more visits. Keep a good look-out, Pablo."

Edward and Humphrey then went in and joined the party inside the cottage, who were in a state of no little suspense during the colloquy outside.

"Why, Alice, dearest! you look quite pale!" said Edward, as he came in.

"I feared for our guests, Edward. I'm sure that if they had come into the cottage, Master Chaloner and Master Grenville would never have been believed to be troopers."

"We thank you for the compliment, Mistress Alice," said Chaloner; "but I think, if necessary, I could ruffle and swear with the best, or rather the worst of them. We passed for troopers very well on the road here."

"Yes, but you did not meet any other troopers."

"That's very true, and shows your penetration. I must acknowledge that, with troopers, there would have been more difficulty; but still, among so many thousands, there must be many varieties, and it would be an awkward thing for an officer of one troop to arrest upon suspicion the men belonging to another. I think when we are visited again I shall sham intoxication—that will not be very suspicious."

"No, not on either side," replied Edward. "Come, Alice, we will eat what dinner you may have ready for us."

For three or four days the Parliamentary forces continued to scour the forest, and another visit or two was paid to the cottage, but without suspicion being created, in consequence of the presence of Edward and his explanations. The parties were invariably sent in another direction. Edward wrote to the intendant, informing him what had occurred, and requesting permission to remain a few days longer at the cottage; and Pablo, who took the letter, returned with one from the intendant, acquainting him that the king had not yet been taken; and requesting the utmost vigilance on his part to insure his capture, with directions to search various places, in company with the troopers who had been stationed at the cottage; or, if he did not like to leave the cottage, to shew the letter to any officer commanding parties in search, that they might act upon the suggestions contained in it. This letter Edward had an opportunity of showing to one or two officers, commanding parties, who approached the cottage, and to whom Edward went out to communicate with, thereby preventing their stopping there.

At last, in about a fortnight, there was not a party in the forest; all of them having gone down to the seaside, to look out for the fugitives, several of whom were taken.

Humphrey took the cart to Lymington, to procure clothes for Chaloner and Grenville, and it was decided that they should assume those of verderers of the forest, which would enable them to carry a gun. As soon as Humphrey had obtained what was requisite, Chaloner and Grenville were conducted to Clara's cottage, and took possession, of course never showing themselves outside the wood which surrounded it. Humphrey lent them Holdfast as a watch, and they took leave of Alice and Edith with much regret. Humphrey and Edward accompanied them to their new abode. It was arranged that the horses should remain under the care of Humphrey, as they had no stable at Clara's cottage.

On parting, Chaloner gave Edward the letter for his aunts; and then Edward once more bent his steps toward the intendant's house, and found himself in the company of Patience and Clara.

Edward narrated to the intendant all that had occurred, and the intendant approved of what he had done, strongly advising that Chaloner and Grenville should not attempt to go to the Continent till all pursuit was over.

"Here's a letter I have received from the government, Edward, highly commending my vigilance and activity in pursuit of the fugitives. It appears that the officers you fell in with have written up to state what admirable dispositions we had made. It is a pity, is it not, Edward, that we are compelled to be thus deceitful in this world? Nothing but the times, and the wish to do good, could warrant it. We meet the wicked, and fight them with their own weapons; but although it is treating them as they deserve, our conscience must tell us that it is not right."

"Surely, sir, to save the lives of people who have committed no other fault except loyalty to their king, will warrant our so doing—at least, I hope so."

"According to the Scriptures, I fear it will not, but it is a difficult, question for us to decide. Let us be guided by our own consciences; if they do not reproach us, we can not be far from right."

Edward then produced the letter he had received from Chaloner, requesting that the intendant would have the kindness to forward it.

"I see," replied the intendant; "I can forward these through Langton. I presume it is to obtain credit for money. It shall go on Thursday."

The conference was then broken up, and Edward went to see Oswald.

CHAPTER XXV

For several days Edward remained at home, anxiously awaiting every news which arrived; expecting every time that the capture of the king would be announced, and, with great joy, finding that hitherto all efforts had been unsuccessful. But there was a question which now arose in Edward's mind, and which was the cause of deep reflection. Since the proposal of sending his sisters away had been started, he felt the great inconvenience of his still representing himself to the intendant as the grandson of Armitage. His sisters, if sent to the ladies at Portlake, must be sent without the knowledge of the intendant; and if so, the discovery of their absence would soon take place, as Patience Heatherstone would be constantly going over to the cottage; and he now asked himself the question, whether, after all the kindness and confidence which the intendant had shown him, he was right in any longer concealing from him his birth and parentage. He felt that he was doing the intendant an injustice, in not showing to him that confidence which ho deserved.

That he was justified in so doing at first, he felt; but since the joining the king's army, and the events which had followed, he considered that he was treating the intendant ill, and he now resolved to take the first opportunity of making the confession. But to do it formally, and without some opportunity which might offer, he felt awkward. At last he thought that he would at once make the confession to Patience, under the promise of secrecy. That he might do at once; and, after he had done so, the intendant could not tax him with want of confidence altogether. He had now analyzed his feelings toward Patience; and he felt how dear she had become to him. During the time he was with the army, she had seldom been out of his thoughts; and although he was often in the society of well bred women, he saw not one that, in his opinion, could compare with Patience Heatherstone; but still, what chance had he of supporting a wife? at present, at the age of nineteen, it was preposterous. Thoughts like these ran in his mind, chasing each other, and followed by others as vague and unsatisfactory; and, in the end, Edward came to the conclusion, that he was without a penny, and that being known as the heir of Beverley would be to his disadvantage; that he was in love with Patience Heatherstone, and had no chance at present of obtaining her; and that he done well up to the present time in concealing who he was from the intendant, who could safely attest that he knew not that he was protecting the son of so noted a Cavalier; and that he would confess to Patience who he was, and give as a reason for not telling her father, that he did not wish to commit him by letting him know who it was that was under his protection. How far the reader may be satisfied with the arguments which Edward was satisfied with, we can not pretend to say; but Edward was young, and hardly knew how to extricate himself from the cloak which necessity had first compelled him to put on. Edward was already satisfied that he was not quite looked upon with indifference by Patience Heatherstone; and he was not yet certain whether it was not a grateful feeling that she had toward him more than any other; that she believed him to be beneath her in birth, he felt convinced, and therefore she could have no idea that he was Edward Beverley. It was not till several days after he had made up his mind that he had an opportunity of being with her alone, as Clara Ratcliffe was their constant companion. However, one evening Clara went out, and staid out so long, carelessly wrapped up, that she caught cold; and the following evening she remained at home, leaving Edward and Patience to take their usual walk unaccompanied by her. They had walked for some minutes in silence, when Patience observed,

"You are very grave, Edward, and have been very grave ever since your return; have you any thing to vex you beyond the failure of the attempt."

"Yes, I have, Patience. I have much on my conscience, and do not know how to act. I want an adviser and a friend, and know not where to find one."

"Surely, Edward, my father is your sincere friend, and not a bad adviser."