CHAP. VII.
Thy friend put in thy bosom: wear his eyes, Still in thy heart, that he may see what's there. HERBERT.
By the care of Juxon, who had written to an old college servant ofChrist-church, a lodging was provided for Sir Oliver Heywood and hisparty in a retired street at Oxford; and, having accomplished theirjourney without any accident, they took possession of their new abodeearly in September. The house though small was clean, and by no meansincommodious; but a part of it was already in the occupation ofanother lodger. However, he was a quiet man, and was employed all dayin his labours, as a painter of coloured glass, having been engaged toexecute the windows of a chapel then building at University College.Moreover, he was a Fleming, and spoke English so imperfectly that hecould not understand what was said to him, except on the most commonand necessary matters. But Sir Oliver, who suffered great pain withhis gout, and was really mortified at not being able to join the army,began to show a fretfulness and discontent at his position, verytrying to Katharine and all about him. He was perpetually findingfault with every thing, and every person; and his anger at thelanguage of alarm and doubt, which he found prevalent at Oxford, knewno bounds. The secret of all this peevishness lay deeper than hisgouty sufferings; for, upon the very day of his arrival, he read in"The Perfect Diurnall" that two squadrons of horse under SergeantMajor Francis Heywood had joined the head quarters of the Lord Say,who was the Lord Lieutenant of Oxfordshire, and stoutly opposed to theKing. Nor was this the simple announcement; but the news went on tosay, that these horsemen were well accoutred, and disciplined veryexactly under the training of Sergeant Major Heywood, a soldier ofexcellent promise, who had served under the great Gustavus, and wasnearly allied to Sir Oliver Heywood of Milverton House, Warwickshire.The old gentleman cursed and swore heartily when he first read thisaloud to Katharine and the Lamberts, but he never afterwards named thesubject or Francis; however, the thought lay rankling under everyexpression of anger which daily events drew forth.
The cloisters and the groves on the banks of the Isis were no longerthe solemn and silent haunts of peaceful, meditative scholars,--theynow echoed to the harsh beating of drums; and the young students,instead of pacing slowly in their black academic habits, were dressedin the garb of soldiers, with blue scarfs suspended across theirbodies from the shoulder, and with pikes in their hands. At aconvocation held in July the University had, with one consent, votedhis Majesty all the public money which they had in hand; and, besidesthis, several of the colleges, as well as private persons, sent intheir plate and their ready money also. This act of the convocation,however, was immediately pronounced null and void by Parliament; andany such actions were forbidden for the future. This proclamationpronounced those criminal who had been concerned in advising thisdiversion of the treasures of their colleges, and commanded eachsociety to secure its own. It also ordered that the Dean ofChrist-church, the President of Magdalen, and the Provost of Queen's,who had been most active in this matter, should be seized and broughtto the bar of the House to answer for their conduct. But this couldnot be accomplished, because the High Sheriff and the Mayor of Oxford,acting upon the commission of array, had called out the train bands ofthe city, and the scholars had taken arms. To support this show ofresistance, Sir John Biron marched to Oxford, and took possession ofit for the King. Sir John had with him about five hundred horse; andthus he secured the contributions for the King's service, and wasenabled, though compelled soon afterwards to retire from the city, tocarry a considerable portion of it safe to the royal quarters. It wasduring the period that Oxford was thus held for the King that SirOliver and his family came there to reside. They were visited byseveral of the stanch Royalists and their ladies: these visitorsconsisted for the most part of the troubled and alarmed clergy, whowere connected by office with the University. To some of their wivesit was a delight to have a new family into whose ears they might pourall the bitter scandals against the Nonconformists, and others of theParliament party, which they eagerly collected and minutely detailed.Nor was there any deficiency in spirit; for some of them went so faras to declare that, happen what might, nothing should make them stirfrom their own houses; that their husbands might run away if theypleased; but no canting Roundheads should ever eject them from theirown arm chairs; and generally concluded by observing, that if theirhusbands were not such a poor set of creatures, they would drive theodious Lord Say out of the county; and that, as it was, there was nochance whatever of his getting into the city. Then they reckoned upontheir fingers,--the five hundred men of Sir John Biron, and the fourhundred pikes of the train bands, and the two hundred scholars withpikes, and the fifty doctors and masters of arts that had horses andpistols, and spirit to use them. Mrs. Veal, the lady of a doctor ofChrist-church, was the most eloquent in these invectives, and the mostexact in these calculations; and, to her honour be it spoken, she kepther word; and when the day of trial came, and Oxford was abandoned tothe Parliamentarians, she would not accompany her husband, butremained obstinately fixed in her own arm-chair, and most successfullydefended her house with a scolding tongue.
Amid all these bitter and uncongenial elements Katharine Heywood wasperplexed and troubled, and found little rest for her spirit, savethat which passeth man's understanding, and that which she found inthe affectionate friendship of Jane Lambert. Nothing more cruellyjarred her feelings than the language in which, by common consent,almost all around her seemed to talk of the Parliamentarians. Her ownloyalty was firm and pure, but it was of an exalted character; andunder no circumstances could it have stooped to so low a hatred of thepersons, or to so mean an opinion of the motives, of the King'senemies, as that generally entertained and daily expressed before her.She did every thing which it was in the power of a daughter to do forthe comfort and tranquillity of her father, but her efforts were notvery successful.
As soon as it became known that the Lord Say was advancing upon Oxfordwith superior forces, and that Sir John Biron was about to retire uponWorcester, nothing would pacify Sir Oliver but an endeavour toaccompany that movement. However, the means of conveyance were not tobe obtained for money, and he was compelled to remain where he was.
On the morning of the 14th of September the greatest possibleconsternation prevailed in the city; and early in the forenoon astrong body of horse, headed by the Lord Say, marched into theUniversity. His first act was to cause all the colleges to be strictlysearched for plate and arms, and to secure whatever plate had notbeen hidden, or despatched under escort of Sir John Biron. He alsobroke into their treasuries, but found little in them, save in that ofChrist-church, where, after a day's labour, and breaking through aplastered wall to an iron chest, he discovered in the bottom thereof agroat and a halter;--a pleasant surprize for a man of his morosetemper, and provided for him by the wit of the doctor's lady who hasbeen mentioned above.
It was not till late in the evening of the 14th that Sir Oliver andhis daughter got any distinct information of what was passing. Theirstreet was retired; not a soldier entered it; nor a sound, save thatof trumpets from the market-place, reached their anxious ears. Theworthy knight forbade Katharine and Jane to leave the house, and oldPhilip the butler was not at all inclined to volunteer any inquiries.But the Flemish painter had been absent from a very early hour; onwhich account Sir Oliver charitably pronounced him a DutchPresbyterian rascal, who had been acting as a spy for the Roundheads.It was in vain that Katharine observed that he was an artist employedby a college upon its chapel windows: the knight pronounced him aforeign scoundrel, gone to join in the plunder. Towards evening thepainter returned, and came to their apartment, to tell them in hisbroken stammering language, with tears in his eyes, that a fine youngofficer, who spoke Dutch, had saved all his painted glass from beingbroken, and had put a safeguard at all the chapels.
The officer of whom the painter related this was no other than FrancisHeywood. The throb of Katharine's heart told her so at the instant,but it was confirmed to her a
fterwards.
It was the habit of Katharine and Jane to walk daily in the afternoonin the fair meadows on the banks of the river to which they had quickand easy access, from the retired quarter in which they dwelt, withoutpassing through any of the more public streets of the town.
Their friendship had strengthened under all the adverse and anxiouscircumstances of the times; and the piety of Jane had become sodeepened by her constant intercourse with Katharine that theirspirits held communion together in these walks, whether they conversedor were silent.
The arrival of the Parliamentarians put a stop to these rambles forthe first few days after they took possession of the city; but, by thestrictness of their discipline and the quietness of their behaviourtowards the citizens of the place, confidence was soon restored, andthe people went about the streets and ventured into the neighbouringfields as usual.
It was on a fine glowing afternoon, about a week after the entrance ofLord Say's horsemen, that Katharine and Jane went forth together totheir favourite meadow. The sun had such power, that, instead ofkeeping the open and more public path, they confined themselves to ashort and shady promenade beneath a few stately trees on the margin ofthe river. No one chanced to be in the meadow but themselves: theglorious hues of autumn were already beginning to tinge the tops oftrees, and the hedge rows were blushing with bird fruit. In thedistance, too, on the low hills, the naked and yellow stubble of thecorn fields told that the harvest was ended, and the season of thelast fruits was come. The friends were carrying forward their hopesand fears as to the future, and were comforting themselves with thevain hope that, even yet, before the fall of the leaf, some change forthe better might come.
It was rumoured that, through the Lord Falkland, who was highlyconsidered by many of the Parliamentary leaders, and who was known tobe a Royalist far too generous and right minded to wish well todespotic government, expectations of a reconciliation between the Kingand his Commons were yet entertained. But Katharine, though she wishednot to depress her more sanguine friend, could not but fear that theserumours of peace were begotten rather of the wishes of those whouttered them than of their judgment: that too many resolute men wereon horseback and in arms; and that they would assuredly draw the swordand try the issues of battle. As thus they walked together, softenedby the repose and beauty of the scene around, Jane ventured upon atheme which seldom or ever passed her lips. She spoke of love, and ofits many crosses; but withal that better it was to love, though lifewere passed separated from the object of it, than not to feel so sweetan influence.
"It is true, Jane," said Katharine mournfully, "it is most true; yetmisplaced affections do greatly wear the spirit."
"You do not mean misplaced, dear cousin, surely; but fixed hopelesslyon one most worthy of our love. Such is your destiny, for Francis is anoble being. You never told me of the first growth of your attachment:how did it first spring? what moved you? did he woo you? Love, theysay, does ever beget love; but yet, methinks, nothing of outward showor manliest beauty, no mere words of admiration, would have availed tofix any man firmly in a heart like yours."
"Albeit the subject pains me, I will tell thee, Jane. Yes, he isworthy of a woman's love. From his first youth he has been, as thouknowest well, a soldier. It was his father's pride to see him, whenbut a stripling, not so tall as the boy Arthur, intrusted with astandard in the day of battle. In his first field, a bullet struck himdown upon his knees; still, with uplifted arms, he waved his ensign,and strove to keep his place in the close ranks, till faint with painhe fell: but, even then, he grasped the colour staff so firmly, that astout lieutenant, who, for its safety, took it from him, was forced tobruise his boyish hands ere they would let go their sacred charge. Onthe morrow, as he lay upon his bloody straw in the field hospital, thegreat Gustavus gave him the Iron Cross of Honour, and with it acommission in his guard of horse,--rewards for this first proof ofconstancy.
"This, at our table, his father did relate with such a pride as dothbecome a parent. Francis the while coloured a little, and looked downfor modesty, but said nothing. I felt hot tears upon my cheek; andwhen they drank his health, and I did pledge him, he saw those tears.Such was the birth of our attachment; and kind words, and gentleactions, and books, and music, and many things, did feed it, till itgrew to love; and then came trouble. Thou knowest well the bitter feudthat blazed forth suddenly between our fathers. The quarrel was ofpublic matters; for my father never knew nor even guessed our love.'Tis long, long past that blissful season: let's talk of it no more."
"Thank you, dear Katharine," said Jane, with swimming eyes andfaltering tongue; "I feel for you. I love you so, it was but right totell me this. You wish for silence; be it so: for the world I wouldnot pain you." Their conversation dropped, and they gave themselves tothe grave thoughts it had called up.
It had been late in the afternoon before they came out: evening drewon; and the sun was setting in a fine autumnal sky, when they weresurprised by the sound of approaching voices: as they became moredistinct, Jane observed that they must proceed from some persons onthe river or on the opposite bank. They went to a tree near the water,and there, concealed by the overhanging branches, they saw a smallboat dropping down the stream, and gliding to the very bank on whichthey stood. It came close, but neither of the persons in it steppedashore: they continued talking in a foreign language, and comparing adistant outline of ground with papers which they held in their hands.Their backs were towards Katharine and Jane; but these almostimmediately recognised one as the Flemish painter, who lodged in thesame house with them, the other was a tall stately man in a helmet anda buff war coat, with an orange scarf depending from his rightshoulder. The heart of Katharine throbbed violently. Under thedisguise of a foreign tongue, she was not certain about the voice; butshe thought it was that of Francis. He lifted his helmet from hishead, and turned to catch the evening breeze. It was her cousin. Hercheek became deadly pale: she trembled excessively, and caught at thetrunk of the tree for support. A sudden exclamation from Jane Lambertgave alarm. Francis sprang instantly to the shore, eager to quiet anyfears which he might innocently have caused. Nor was the surprisegreater to them than to himself, when he saw Katharine Heywood andJane Lambert before him.