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, the
n 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.
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."