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THE BROKEN FONT
A STORY OF THE CIVIL WAR.
BY THE AUTHOR OF "TALES OF THE WARS OF OUR TIMES," "RECOLLECTIONS OF THE PENINSULA," &c. &c. &c.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR
LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN, GREEN, & LONGMAN,
PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1836.
THE BROKEN FONT.
CHAPTER I.
And now, good morrow to our waking soules, Which watch not one another out of feare. DONNE.
The noble spirit of Katharine Heywood was severely exercised by thosedisclosures of Jane Lambert which have been related in a formerchapter.
She regretted, too late, that she had ever asked that true-heartedgirl to perform an office so difficult in itself, and which hadproved, in its consequences, so hazardous to her reputation and herpeace. The chance of such a misfortune as that which had befallen Janenever remotely presented itself to her mind at the moment when shemade the request, yet she could not but feel compunction as shereflected on the trouble to which the generous constancy of a delicatemind had subjected her affectionate friend. One slight reparation wasin her power. It became her plain duty to undeceive the mind of Juxonon the subject; and the thought that she should be thus instrumentalin bringing together two fine characters, formed for each other, madeall selfish considerations about her own sorrow, and every pang whichher maidenly pride must suffer, vanish before that proper resolution.
No opportunity of speaking in private with Juxon occurred on theevening of Jane's disclosure to Katharine, nor did any offer itselfuntil the arrival of her young cousin Arthur from Oxford. It was amournful trial to Katharine to observe the high and joyous spirits ofthe ardent youth, as he embraced and thanked Sir Oliver for accedingto his request. The silent house became suddenly full of cheerfulechoes as the brave boy passed to and fro on its oaken staircase andalong the pleasant gallery, singing snatches of loyal songs, or makinghis spurs jingle as he ran. All his preparations for the solemn workof war were made with a light heart, and with little or noconsideration that fellow-countrymen were to be his enemies. Suchlittle sympathy as the boy once felt for the tortured Prynne existedno longer for any one of that party, which he had learned to look uponas traitors.
One would have thought that he was volunteering in a foreignexpedition, by his gay-hearted alacrity in getting ready.
"Cousin Kate," said he, turning towards her as they sat at breakfastin the hall, "you must make us a couple of King's rosettes,--and Ihope you have both of you," he added, looking at Jane Lambert, "nearlyfinished embroidering the small standard for our troop:--you havelaughed at me, and called me boy, Jane; but when I bring you back yourown embroidery, stained with the blood of traitors, you shall rewardme as a man."
"I am not so very blood-thirsty, Arthur," said Jane Lambert, "as towish it shed to do honour to my embroidery; and if I see you comesafe back with your sword bright and a peace branch in your hand, Iwill tell a fib for you, and call you a man before your beard comes.Now don't frown--it does not become your smooth face:--when all isover, you shall play the part of a lady in the first court masque, andshall wear my rose-coloured gown."
"Why, Jane," said Sir Oliver, "what is come to you, girl? It was butfive minutes ago that I saw you with your kerchief at your eyes,looking as sad as though you were sitting at a funeral; and now thoumockest poor Arthur, as if he were a vain boaster, instead of agallant boy, as thou well knowest.--Never mind her, Arthur: she is atrue woman, and teazes those most whom she loves the best. She willcry peccavi to thee a few weeks hence, and suffer thee to give her afull pardon in honest kisses."
"Marry, Sir Oliver," said Jane, smiling, "you will spoil the boy, anyou talk thus to him."
"She shall not wait so long for my pardon," said the good-temperedArthur, with quickness; and rising from his seat, he went to Jane,and, with the permitted familiarity of boyhood and cousinship, hegave her a kiss. "There," he added: "a bird in the hand is worth twoin the bush. 'To-morrow' is a word I never liked, and it is a seasonwhich I may never find. Now, remember, if I should have the ill luckto be cut down by the sword of a traitor, I die in peace with you,dear coz, and forgive you for your merriment beforehand."
"She will not be merrier, Arthur, than she is now," said Katharine;"and to say truth, the very thought is enough to make us sad, if wewere not melancholy already:--but I must not hear, my dear father, ofyour going to the field. It will be at the cost of your life, andthat, too, without your having the satisfaction to be of use."
"An example, Kate, must always be of service, if it be a good one; andthough I never stood opposite a shotted cannon hitherto, methinks, todo that once by the side of my King would make the short remnant of mylife all the brighter for it. Besides, my dear girl, for all the talkwhich these Parliament men make about their levies, let the countrygentlemen of the western counties arm in right earnest, and the loyalcavaliers of England will make these praying rogues bend the knee andcry out for quarter."
"To be sure they will," said the excited Arthur: "I will bring cousinJane a live specimen of the genuine round-headed rebel, with his handstied behind him, and the whites of his eyes where the pupils shouldbe."
At this moment Juxon entered the hall from Old Beech:--he caught thelast sentence; and putting one hand on Arthur's shoulder, as he gavethe other to Sir Oliver.--"Remember, my young master," he said, "thatthy game must be caught before it can be cooked, at least so says thecookery book in my old housekeeper's room; and, believe me, you willfind a day's fighting with these Parliament boys rather harder workthan a morning's hare-hunting, and little game bagged at the close ofit."
"Why, George Juxon! this from you!" said Sir Oliver. "Why, you are thevery last man that I expected to hear croak in this fashion. Why, Iexpect to see the vagabonds turn tail, before a charge of well mountedcavaliers, like a flock of sheep."
"You could not see such a runaway flight with greater pleasure than Ishould; but take my word for it, the King's enemies are made ofsterner stuff than you give them credit for. Many a great spirit isreckoned among their leaders; and of the meaner folk that follow themnumbers have put their hearts into the cause, under a notion that itis that of the people. No, sir, Arthur will act in these troubles, Iam well assured, with the same manliness of spirit with which he wroteto you from Oxford, and, therefore, I do not wish to hear him talklike a school boy."
Arthur coloured with a little confusion at this grave rebuke; but,with the frank grace of a generous spirit, confessed himself to havespoken idly, and to be wrong; excusing it, at the same time, bysaying, that he was only vapouring so to plague Jane Lambert a little,who, he verily believed, to be in love with one of the rebels. Theeyes of Katharine fell, and her gaze was fixed silently upon theground, and a slight contraction of her brow showed to Jane how verykeenly she was suffering. It was not possible, at the moment, to leavethe table without an abruptness which must, of necessity, attractnotice, or she would have done so; but Jane, with a readycheerfulness, replied, "Perhaps I am: now, guess for me, most noblecavalier, whether my Puritan suitor be tall or short; young or old;how many hairs grow on his chin; whether his cheeks be red and white,like summer apples; how much buff it may take to make him a war coat;and if he do not wear high boot heels and jingling spurs for bravery?"
The fine temper of Arthur enabled him
to take this playful raillery ofJane's as pleasantly as it was meant; and Sir Oliver came to the boy'said, observing, "The sly maiden is laughing at us both, Arthur; and itis too true that I must have a broad seam let into my old buffcoat.--See thou have it done quickly," said he, "Philip," turning tothe old serving man behind his chair.
The announcement, however, which Sir Oliver had before made of hisintentions, confirmed by the order thus gaily given, seemed to takeaway the old man's breath; for to old Philip none of these sad changeswere matters for laughter.
Juxon did not discourage these intentions of Sir Oliver for thepresent: he had satisfied his own mind that the family must, ofnecessity, soon quit the mansion at Milverton for a season. The spiritin Warwick and in Coventry was decidedly favourable to the cause ofthe Parliament; and although many of the gentlemen and yeomen in thecountry villages declared for his Majesty, yet whatever men could beraised under the commission of array would, of course, be marchedaway. However, it was agreed among the gentry, that the King should beinvited to show himself in the county, and that some effort should bemade to arouse the loyalty and enlist the feelings of the people inhis quarrel. Should this fail, they all looked to Nottingham orShrewsbury as favourable rallying points for the Royalists.
In the mean time secret preparations were made for concealing orremoving valuable effects, and for transporting families andhouseholds, when the approach of the parliamentary forces shouldrender it no longer safe for the more distinguished and wealthy of theRoyalists to remain in their stately homes.
The conversation at the breakfast table at Milverton was changed fromthe jocular mood of the moment to a graver tone.
The news of the day,--the last movements of the King,--the rumours ofhis approach,--conjectures of his reception,--by turns engaged theattention of all, and were discussed between Juxon and Sir Oliver withearnestness and forethought.
The calm clear judgment of George Juxon made him look far on toconsequences; and Sir Oliver, conscious of his own deficiency ofinformation, and of the indolence of his inquiries, deferred morereadily to the opinions of Juxon than obstinate men are found willingto do in general.
When the party rose and quitted the hall, Katharine, under thepretence of asking Juxon's advice about packing a valuable picture,led him to the gallery alone, while Arthur and Jane Lambert weresettling their playful quarrel upon the terrace.
At the far end of the gallery was a windowed niche, with an antiqueseat of carved oak. Katharine sat down, and entreating the attentionof Juxon to something of consequence, which it was her desire toimpart to him, he placed himself on the bench by her side.
"You must be at a loss, Master Juxon, I fear, thoroughly to understandour dear friend, Jane Lambert."
"It is true--she is a very strange girl."
"Yes, strangely excellent: her idle words and idle ways do veil acharacter of rare and precious worth."
"I would fain think so, lady; but I do sometimes fear that she is of anature too open and too free for this hollow world. Already, to mythought, she is unhappy from this very cause: whatever may be hersorrow, I wish she would confide it to you."
"I have discovered it."
"Can it be possible? If so, I am truly happy to think that she willhave a friend, whose maidenly reserve and heavenly wisdom may guideher through all dangers and difficulties in safety."
"Ah! there's the pang; 'twas I betrayed her to them."
"You wrong yourself, lady,--I am convinced you do. I am afraid that Ican make a better guess at what causes the melancholy of Jane Lambertthan you can; however, I do not feel at liberty to speak moreplainly."
"I tell you it was I who placed her in the painful perplexity in whichyou once surprised her. The gentleman from whom you saw her part wasan unhappy relative of mine: mine was the errand she was doing; minewas the secret that she kept with so noble a constancy:--thatgentleman was nought to her."
"Indeed! was he not her lover?"
"No: would he were! and yet the wish were selfish, and not kind, forshe loves another."
"I am utterly confused:--how much have my suspicions wronged her:--sheis a generous girl;--how can I have been so deceived? And yet thegallant kissed her hand upon his knees."
"I know it; but even in that action he only charged her with hishomage to another: she was but love's messenger."
"Lady, I am troubled in my thoughts at this sad business: it is plainI wronged her; plain that she is constant as a star to friend or tolover. What she has done in friendship may well command my lastingadmiration. You tell me that she loves. Why is her lover unknown andunavowed? What is his condition? Where is he? What barriers dividetheir fortunes and their hopes?"
"One only--he knows not of her love."
"Whoever he may be, wherever he may dwell, in ignorance of such a vastpossession as such a woman's love--methinks, lady, it is your duty,your solemn and sweet duty, to make it known to him. I envy you thejoy: let me be the bearer of your words or letter; so shall I someatonement make for my unworthy suspicions of her danger."
"You forget--these are no times for lovers' vows; these are no timesfor marrying and giving in marriage: such knowledge might depress theobject of her love with care:--to see happiness offered to our heart'swant, and then, in the self-same instant, wrested from us by the ironhand of war, and scared away by the blast of discord, is to makeacquaintance with a sorrow which, by ignorance, we might haveescaped."
"I think not with you, lady: it were pity for any man to die in hisfirst field unconscious of such a blessing."
"As I have a human heart, I can conceive of such a feeling, and likethe noble thought.--Long may you live, Master Juxon, to prove how wellJane Lambert loves you!" So saying, Katharine rose and left thegallery.
Juxon remained fixed where he sat, in a state of mind which nolanguage could faithfully depict. His heart swelled; his eyes becamedim; and as the blinding tears fell fast away, the first object onwhich they rested was the figure of Jane Lambert, walking under theshade of the lime-trees alone. He went down to join her in a tumultof rapture; but before he reached the end of the avenue the reflectioncrossed him, "What am I about to do? what am I about to utter? This isno moment, this is no mood, in which, for the first time, to addressher as a lover. Katharine said true, 'These are no times for lovers'vows.' 'For better' I would have her mine, but not 'for worse.' Sheshall know no misery that I can shield her from now, as a friend; andwhen peace smiles on my country once more, may God then join ourhands, as even now our hearts!"