CHAPTER III.
ROSE WOODLEY ran up and down indefatigably, preparing everything for theaccommodation of the guests, smoothing down Deborah’s petulance, andkeeping her mother from over-exertion or anxiety. Much contrivance wasindeed required, for besides the colonel and his son, two soldiers had tobe lodged, and four horses, which, to the consternation of old Margery,seemed likely to devour the cow’s winter store of hay, while the troopersgrumbled at the desolate, half-ruined, empty stables, and at the want ofcorn.
Rose had to look to everything; to provide blankets from the bed of thetwo little girls, send Eleanor to sleep with her mother, and take Lucy toher own room; despatch them on messages to the nearest cottage to borrowsome eggs, and to gather vegetables in the garden, whilst she herselfmade the pigeon pie with the standing crust, much wishing that thesoldiers were out of the way. It was a pretty thing to see her in herwhite apron, with her neat dexterous fingers, and nimble quiet step,doing everything in so short a time, and so well, without the leastbustle.
She was at length in the hall, laying the white home-spun, home-bleachedcloth, and setting the trenchers (all the Mowbray plate had long ago gonein the King’s service), wondering anxiously, meantime, what could havebecome of Walter, with many secret and painful misgivings, though she hadbeen striving to persuade her mother that he was only absent on somefreak of his own.
Presently the door which led to the garden was opened, and to her greatjoy Walter put his head into the room.
“O Walter,” she exclaimed, “the battle is lost! but Edmund and the Kinghave both escaped.”
“Say you so?” said Walter, smiling. “Here is a gentleman who can giveyou some news of Edmund.”
At the same moment Rose saw her beloved eldest brother enter the room.It would be hard to say which was her first thought, joy or dismay—shehad no time to ask herself. Quick as lightning she darted to the doorleading to the staircase, bolted it, threw the bar across the fasteningof the front entrance, and then, flying to her brother, clung fast roundhis neck, kissed him on each cheek, and felt his ardent kiss on her brow,as she exclaimed in a frightened whisper, “You must not stay here: thereare troopers in the house!”
“Troopers!—quartered on us?” cried Walter.
Rose hastily explained, trembling lest anyone should attempt to enter.Walter paced up and down in despair, vowing that it was a trick to get aspy into the house. Edmund sat down in the large arm-chair with a calmresolute look, saying, “I must surrender, then. Neither I nor my horsecan go further without rest. I will yield as a prisoner of war, and wellthat it is to a man of honour.”
“Oh no, no!” cried Rose: “he says Cromwell treats his prisoners asrebels. It would be certain death!”
“What news of the King?” asked Edmund, anxiously.
“Not seen since the flight? but—”
“And Lord Derby, Wilmot—”
“I cannot tell, I heard no names,” said Rose, “only that the enemy’scruelties are worse than ever.”
Walter stood with his back against the table, gazing at his brother andsister in mute consternation.
“I know!” cried Rose, suddenly: “the out-house in the upper field. Noone ever goes up into the loft but ourselves. You know, Walter, whereEleanor found the kittens. Go thither, I will bring Edmund food atnight. Oh, consent, Edmund!”
“It will do! it will do!” cried Walter.
“Very well, it may spare my mother,” said Edmund; and as footsteps andvoices were heard on the stairs, the two brothers hurried off withoutanother word, while Rose, trying to conceal her agitation, undid thedoor, and admitted her two little sisters, who were asking if they hadnot heard Walter’s voice.
She scarcely attended to them, but, bounding upstairs to her mother’sroom, flung her arms round her neck, and poured into her ear her precioussecret. The tremour, the joy, the fears, the tears, the throbbings ofthe heart, and earnest prayers, may well be imagined, crowded by themother and daughter into those few minutes. The plan was quicklyarranged. They feared to trust even Deborah; so that the only way thatthey could provide the food that Edmund so much needed was by Rose andWalter attempting to save all they could at supper, and Rose could stealout when everyone was gone to rest, and carry it to him. Lady Woodleywas bent on herself going to her son that night; but Rose prevailed onher to lay aside the intention, as it would have been fatal, in her weakstate of health, for her to expose herself to the chills of an autumnnight, and, what was with her a much more conclusive reason, Rose wasmuch more likely to be able to slip out unobserved. Rose had anopportunity of explaining all this to Walter, and imploring him to becautious, before the colonel and his son came down, and the whole partyassembled round the supper-table.
Lady Woodley had the eggs and bacon before her; Walter insisted onundertaking the carving of the pigeon-pie, and looked considerablyaffronted when young Sylvester Enderby offered to take the office, as amore experienced carver. Poor Rose, how her heart beat at every word andlook, and how hard she strove to seem perfectly at her ease andunconscious! Walter was in a fume of anxiety and vexation, and couldhardly control himself so far as to speak civilly to either of theguests, so that he was no less a cause of fear to his mother and sisterthan the children, who were unconscious how much depended on discretion.
Young Sylvester Enderby was a fine young man of eighteen, verygood-natured, and not at all like a Puritan in appearance or manner. Hehad hardly yet begun to think for himself, and was merely obeying hisfather in joining the army with him, without questioning whether it wasthe right cause or not. He was a kind elder brother at home, and here hewas ready to be pleased with the children of the house.
Lucy was a high-spirited talkative child, very little used to seeingstrangers, and perhaps hardly reined in enough, for her poor mother’sweak health had interfered with strict discipline; and as this eveningWalter and Rose were both grave and serious under their anxieties, Lucywas less restrained even than usual.
She was a pretty creature, with bright blue eyes, and an arch expression,all the droller under her prim round cap; and Sylvester was a good dealamused with her pert bold little nods and airs. He paid a good deal ofattention to her, and she in return grew more forward and chattering. Itis what little girls will sometimes do under the pleasure and excitementof the notice of gentlemen, and it makes their friends very uneasy, sincethe only excuse they can have is in being _very little_, and it shows amost undesirable want of self-command and love of attention.
In addition to this feeling, Lady Woodley dreaded every word that wasspoken, lest it should lead to suspicion, for though she was sure Mr.Enderby would not willingly apprehend her son, yet she could not tellwhat he might consider his duty to his employers; besides, there were thetwo soldiers to observe and report, and the discovery that Edmund was athand might lead to frightful consequences. She tried to conversecomposedly with him on his family and the old neighbourhood where theyhad both lived, often interrupting herself to send a look or word ofwarning to the lower end of the table; but Lucy and Charles were too wildto see or heed her, and grew more and more unrestrained, till at last, tothe dismay of her mother, brother, and sister, Charles’ voice was heardso loud as to attract everyone’s notice, in a shout of wonder andcomplaint, “Mother, mother, look! Rose has gobbled up a whole pigeon toher own share!”
Rose could not keep herself from blushing violently, as she whisperedreprovingly that he must not be rude. Lucy did not mend the matter bysaying with an impertinent nod, “Rose does not like to be found out.”
“Children,” said Lady Woodley, gravely, “I shall send you away if you donot behave discreetly.”
“But, mother, Rose is greedy,” said Lucy.
“Hold your tongues, little mischief makers!” burst out Walter, who hadbeen boiling over with anxiety and indignation the whole time.
“Walter is cross now,” said Lucy, pleased to have produced a sensation,and to have shocked Eleanor, who sat all the time as good, demure, andgrav
e, as if she had been forty years old.
“Pray excuse these children,” said Lady Woodley, trying to hide heranxiety under cover of displeasure at them; “no doubt Mrs. Enderby keepsmuch better order at home. Lucy, Charles, silence at once. Walter, isthere no wine?”
“If there is, it is too good for rebels,” muttered Walter to himself, ashe rose. “Light me, Deborah, and I’ll see.”
“La! Master Walter,” whispered Deborah, “you know there is nothing butthe dregs of the old cask of Malmsey, that was drunk up at the oldsquire’s burying.”
“Hush, hush, Deb,” returned the boy; “fill it up with water, and it willbe quite good enough for those who won’t drink the King’s health.”
Deborah gave a half-puzzled smile. “Ye’re a madcap, Master Walter! Butsure, Sir, the spirit of a wolf must have possessed Mistress Rose—shethat eats no supper at all, in general! D’ye think it is wearying aboutMaster Edmund that gives her a craving?”
It might be dangerous, but Walter was so much diverted, that he could nothelp saying, “I have no doubt it is on his account.”
“I know,” said Deborah, “that I get so faint at heart that I am forced tobe taking something all day long to keep about at all!”
By this time they were re-entering the hall, when there was a sound fromthe kitchen as of someone calling. Deborah instantly turned, screamingout joyfully, “Bless me! is it you?” and though out of sight, her voicewas still heard in its high notes of joy. “You good-for-nothing rogue!are you turned up again like a bad tester, staring into the kitchen likea great oaf, as you be?”
There was a general laugh, and Eleanor said, “That must be Diggory.”
“A poor country clown,” said Lady Woodley, “whom we sent to join my son’stroop. I hope he is in no danger.”
“Oh no,” said Mr. Enderby; “he has only to return to his plough.”
“Hollo there!” shouted Walter. “Come in, Diggory, and show yourself.”
In came Diggory, an awkward thick-set fellow, with a shock head of hair,high leathern gaiters, and a buff belt over his rough leathern jerkin.There he stood, pulling his forelock, and looking sheepish.
“Come in, Diggory,” said his mistress; “I am glad to see you safe. Youneed not be afraid of these gentlemen. Where are the rest?”
“Slain, every man of them, an’t please your ladyship.”
“And your master, Mr. Woodley?”
“Down, too, an’t please your ladyship.”
Lucy screamed aloud; Eleanor ran to her mother, and hid her face in herlap; Charles sat staring, with great round frightened eyes. Verydistressing it was to be obliged to leave the poor children in such griefand alarm, when it was plain all the time that Diggory was an arrantcoward, who had fancied more deaths and dangers than were real, and wasdescribing more than he had even thought he beheld, in order to makehimself into a hero instead of a runaway. Moreover, Lady Woodley andRose had to put on a show of grief, lest they should betray that theywere better informed; and they were in agonies lest Walter’s fury at thefalsehoods should be as apparent to their guests as it was to themselves.
“Are you sure of what you say, Diggory?” said Lady Woodley.
“Sure as that I stand here, my lady. There was sword and shot and smokeall round. I stood it all till Farmer Ewins was cut down a-one-side ofme, ma’am, and Master Edmund, more’s the pity, with his brains scatteredhere and there on the banks of the river.”
There was another cry among the children, and Walter made such a violentgesture, that Rose, covering her face with her handkerchief, whispered tohim, “Walter dear, take care.” Walter relieved his mind by returning,“Oh that I could cudgel the rogue soundly!”
At the same time Colonel Enderby turned to their mother, saying, “Takecomfort, madam, this fellow’s tale carries discredit on the face of it.Let me examine him, with your permission. Where did you last see yourmaster?”
“I know none of your places, sir,” answered Diggory, sullenly.
Colonel Enderby spoke sternly and peremptorily. “In the town, or in thefields? Answer me that, sirrah. In the field on the bank of the river?”
“Ay.”
“There you left your ranks, you rogue; that was the way you lost sight ofyour master!” said the colonel. Then, turning to Lady Woodley, asDiggory slunk off, “Your ladyship need not be alarmed. An hour after theencounter, in which he pretends to have seen your son slain, I saw him infull health and soundness.”
“A cowardly villain!” cried Walter, delighted to let out some of hisindignation. “I knew he was not speaking a word of truth.”
The children cheered up in a moment; but Lady Woodley was not sorry tomake this agitating scene an excuse for retiring with all her children.Lucy and Eleanor were quite comforted, and convinced that Edmund must besafe; but poor little Charlie had been so dreadfully frightened by thehorrors of Diggory’s description, that after Rose had put him to bed hekept on starting up in his sleep, half waking, and sobbing about brotherEdmund’s brains.
Rose was obliged to go to him and soothe him. She longed to assure thepoor little fellow that dear Edmund was perfectly safe, well, and near athand; but the secret was too important to be trusted to one so young, soshe could only coax and comfort him, and tell him they all thought it wasnot true, and Edmund would come back again.
“Sister,” said Charlie, “may I say my prayers again for him?”
“Yes, do, dear Charlie,” said Rose; “and say a prayer for King Charlestoo, that he may be safe from the wicked man.”
So little Charlie knelt by Rose, with his hands joined, and his littlebare legs folded together, and said his prayer: and did not his sister’sheart go with him? Then she kissed him, covered him up warmly, andrepeated to him in her soft voice the ninety-first Psalm: “Whoso dwellethunder the defence of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of theAlmighty.”
By the time it was ended, the little boy was fast asleep, and thefaithful loyal girl felt her failing heart cheered and strengthened forwhatever might be before her, sure that she, her mother, her brother, andher King, were under the shadow of the Almighty wings.