"A narrow escape," said Edward, as he held his brother's hand.
"Yes, indeed we may thank Heaven for our preservation," replied
Humphrey; "and poor Smoker! Let us see if he is much hurt."
"I trust not," said Edward, going up to the dog, who remained quite
still on the ground, with his tongue out, and panting violently.
They examined poor Smoker all over very carefully, and found that there
was no external wound; but on Edward pressing his side the animal gave a
low howl.
"It is there where the horn of the bull took him," observed Humphrey.
"Yes," said Edward, pressing and feeling softly; "and he has two of his
ribs broken. Humphrey, see if you can get him a little water, that will
recover him more than anything else; the bull has knocked the breath out
of his body. I think he will soon be well again, poor fellow."
Humphrey soon returned with some water from a neighbouring pool. He
brought it in his hat and gave it to the dog, who lapped it slowly at
first, but afterwards much faster, and wagging his tail.
"He will do now," said Edward; "we must give him time to recover
himself. Now then, let us examine our quarry. Why, Humphrey, what a
quantity of meat we have here! It will take three journeys to Lymington
at least."
"Yes, and no time to lose, for the weather is getting warm already,
Edward. Now what to do? Will you remain while I go home for the cart?"
"Yes, it's no use both going; I will stay here and watch poor Smoker,
and take off the skins ready by the time you are back again. Leave me
your knife as well as my own, for one will soon be blunt."
Humphrey gave his knife to Edward, and taking up his gun, set off for
the cottage. Edward had skinned two of the bulls before Humphrey's
return; and Smoker, although he evidently was in great pain, was on his
legs again. As soon as they had finished and quartered the beasts, the
cart was loaded, and they returned home; they had to return a second
time, and both the pony and they were very tired before they sat down to
supper. They found the gipsy boy very much recovered, and in good
spirits. Alice said that he had been amusing Edith and her by tossing
up three potatoes at a time, and playing them like balls; and that he
had spun a platter upon an iron skewer and balanced it on his chin.
They gave him some supper, which he ate in the chimney-corner, looking
up and staring every now and then at Edith, to whom he appeared very
much attached already.
"Is it good?" said Humphrey to the boy, giving him another
venison-steak.
"Yes; not have so good supper in pit-hole," replied Pablo, laughing.
Early on the following morning Edward and Humphrey set off to Lymington
with the cart laden with meat. Edward showed Humphrey all the shops and
the streets they were in where the purchases were to be made--introduced
him to the landlord of the hostelrie--and having sold their meat, they
returned home. The rest of the meat was taken to Lymington and disposed
of by Humphrey on the following day; and the day after that, the three
skins were carried to the town and disposed of.
"We made a good day's work, Edward," said Humphrey, as he reckoned up
the money they had made.
"We earned it with some risk, at all events," replied Edward; "and now,
Humphrey, I think it is time that I keep my promise to Oswald, and go
over to the Intendant's house and pay my visit to the young lady, as I
presume she is--and certainly she has every appearance of being one. I
want the visit to be over, as I want to be doing."
"How do you mean, Edward?"
"I mean that I want to go out and kill some deer; but I will not do it
till after I have seen her: when my visit is over, I intend to defy the
Intendant and all his verderers."
"But why should this visit prevent you going out this very day, if so
inclined?"
"I don't know, but she may ask me if I have done so, and I do not want
to tell her that I have; neither do I want to say that I have not if I
have; and therefore I shall not commence till after I have seen her."
"When will you set off?"
"To-morrow morning; and I shall take my gun, although Oswald desired me
not; but after the fight we had with the wild cattle the other day I
don't think it prudent to be unarmed; indeed, I do not feel comfortable
without I have my gun, at any time."
"Well, I shall have plenty to do when you are away--the potatoes must be
hoed up, and I shall see what I can make of Master Pablo. He appears
well enough, and he has played quite long enough; so I shall take him
with me to the garden to-morrow, and set him to work. What a quantity
of fruit there is a promise of in the orchard this year! And Edward, if
this boy turns out of any use, and is a help to me, I think that I shall
take all the orchard into garden, and then enclose another piece of
ground, and see if we cannot grow some corn for ourselves. It is the
greatest expense that we have at present, and I should like to take my
own corn to the mill to be ground."
"But will not growing corn require plough and horses?" said Edward.
"No; we will till it by hand: two of us can dig a great deal at odd
times, and we shall have a better crop with the spade than with the
plough. We have now so much manure that we can afford it."
"Well, if it is to be done, it should be done at once, Humphrey, before
the people from the other side of the forest come and find us out, or
they will dispute our right to the enclosure."
"The forest belongs to the king, brother, and not to the Parliament: and
we are the king's liegemen, and only look to him for permission,"
replied Humphrey; "but what you say is true, the sooner it is done the
better, and I will about it at once."
"How much do you propose fencing in?"
"About two or three acres."
"But that is more than you can dig this year or the next."
"I know that; but I will manure it without digging, and the grass will
grow so rich to what it will outside of the enclosure, that they will
suppose it has been enclosed a long while."
"That's not a bad idea, Humphrey: but I advise you to look well after
that boy, for he is of a bad race, and has not been brought up, I am
afraid, with too strict notions of honesty. Be careful, and tell your
sisters also to be cautious not to let him suppose that we have any
money in the old chest, till we find out whether he is to be trusted or
not."
"Better not let him know it under any circumstances," replied Humphrey;
"he may continue honest, if not tempted by the knowledge that there is
anything worth stealing."
"You are right, Humphrey; well, I will be off to-morrow morning and get
this visit over. I hope to be able to get all the news from her, now
that her father is away."
"I hope to get some work out of this Master Pablo," replied Humphrey;
"how many things I could do if he would only work! Now, I'll tell you
one thing--I will dig a saw-pit and get a saw, and then I can cut out
boards, and build anything we want. The first time I go to Lymington I
will buy a saw--I can afford it now; and I'll make a carpenter's bench
for the first thing, and then, with some more tools, I shall get on; and
then, Edward, I'll tell you what else I will do."
"Then, Humphrey," replied Edward, laughing, "you must tell me some other
time, for it is now very late, and I must go to bed, as I have to rise
early. I know you have so many projects in your mind that it would take
half the night to listen to them."
"Well, I believe what you say is true," replied Humphrey, "and it will
be better to do one thing at a time than to talk about doing a hundred;
so we will, as you say, to bed."
At sunrise Edward and Humphrey were both up; Alice came out when they
tapped at her door, as she would not let Edward go without his
breakfast. Edith joined them, and they went to prayers. While they
were so employed, Pablo came out and listened to what was said. When
prayers were over, Humphrey asked Pablo if he knew what they had been
doing.
"No, not much; suppose you pray sun to shine."
"No, Pablo," said Edith, "pray to God to make us good."
"You bad then?" said Pablo; "me not bad."
"Yes, Pablo, everybody very bad," said Alice; "but if we try to be good,
God forgives us."
The conversation was then dropped, and as soon as Edward had had his
breakfast, he kissed his sisters, bidding them and Humphrey farewell: he
then threw his gun over his arm, and calling his puppy, which he had
named Holdfast, set off on his journey across the forest.
Holdfast, as well as Humphrey's puppy, which had been named Watch, had
grown very fine young animals. The first had been named Holdfast,
because it would seize the pigs by the ears and lead them into the sty,
and the other because it was so alert at the least noise: but, as
Humphrey said, Watch ought to have learnt to lead the pigs, it being
more in his line of business than Holdfast's, which was to be brought up
for hunting in the forest, while Watch was being educated as a house and
farm-yard dog.
Edward had refused to take the pony, as Humphrey required it for the
farm-work, and the weather was so fine that he preferred walking; the
more so, as it would enable him on his return across the forest to try
for some venison, which he could not have done if he had been mounted on
Billy's back. Edward walked quick, followed by his dog, which he had
taught to keep to heel. He felt happy, as people do who have no cares,
from the fine weather--the deep green of the verdure chequered by the
flowers in bloom, and the majestic scenery which met his eye on every
side. His heart was as buoyant as his steps, as he walked along, the
light summer breeze fanning his face. His thoughts, however, which had
been more of the chase than anything else, suddenly changed, and he
became serious. For some time he had heard no political news of
consequence, or what the Commons were doing with the king. This reverie
naturally brought to his mind his father's death, the burning of his
property, and its sequestration. His cheeks coloured with indignation,
and his brow was moody. Then he built castles for the future. He
imagined the king released from his prison, and leading an army against
his oppressors; he fancied himself at the head of a troop of cavalry,
charging the parliamentary horse. Victory was on his side. The king
was again on his throne, and he was again in possession of the family
estate. He was rebuilding the hall, and somehow or another it appeared
to him that Patience was standing by his side, as he gave directions to
the artificers--when his reverie was suddenly disturbed by Holdfast
barking and springing forward in advance.
Edward, who had by this time got over more than half his journey, looked
up, and perceived himself confronted by a powerful man, apparently about
forty years of age, and dressed as a verderer of the forest. He thought
at the time that he had seldom seen a person with a more sinister and
forbidding countenance.
"How now, young fellow, what are you doing here?" said the man, walking
up to him, and cocking the gun which he held in his hand as he advanced.
Edward quietly cocked his own gun, which was loaded, when he perceived
that hostile preparation on the part of the other person, and then
replied, "I am walking across the forest, as you may perceive."
"Yes, I perceive you are walking, and you are walking with a dog and a
gun: you will now be pleased to walk with me. Deer-stealers are not any
longer permitted to range this forest."
"I am no deer-stealer," replied Edward. "It will be quite sufficient to
give me that title when you find me with venison in my possession; and
as for going with you, that I certainly shall not. Sheer off or you may
meet with harm."
"Why, you young good-for-nothing, if you have not venison, it is not
from any will not to take it; you are out in pursuit of it, that is
clear. Come, come, you've the wrong person to deal with: my orders are
to take up all poachers, and take you I will."
"If you can," replied Edward; "but you must first prove that you are
able so to do; my gun is as good and my aim is as sure as yours, whoever
you may be. I tell you again, I am no poacher, nor have I come out to
take the deer, but to cross over to the Intendant's cottage, whither I
am now going. I tell you thus much, that you may not do anything
foolish; and having said this, I advise you to think twice before you
act once. Let me proceed in peace, or you may lose your place, if you
do not by your own rashness lose your life."
There was something so cool and so determined in Edward's quiet manner,
that the verderer hesitated. He perceived that any attempt to take
Edward would be at the risk of his own life; and he knew that his orders
were to apprehend all poachers, but not to shoot people. It was true
that resistance with firearms would warrant his acting in self-defence;
but admitting that he should succeed, which was doubtful, still Edward
had not been caught in the act of killing venison, and he had no
witnesses to prove what had occurred. He also knew that the Intendant
had given very strict orders as to the shedding of blood, which he was
most averse to under any circumstances; and there was something in
Edward's appearance and manner so different from a common person, that
he was puzzled. Moreover, Edward had stated that he was going to the
Intendant's house. All things considered, as he found that bullying
would not succeed, he thought it advisable to change his tone, and
therefore said, "You tell me that you are going to the Intendant's
house; you have business there, I presume? If I took you prisoner, it
is there I should have conducted you; so, young man, you may now walk on
before me."
"I thank you," replied Edward, "but walk on before you I will not: but
if you choose to half-cock your gun again, and walk by my side, I will
do the same. Those are my terms, and I will listen to no other; so be
pleased to make up your mind, as I am in haste."
The verderer appeared very indignant at this reply, but after a time
said, "Be it so."
Edward then uncocked his gun, with his eyes fixed upon the man, and the
verderer did the same; and then they walked side by side, Edward keeping
at the distance of three yards from him, in case of treachery.
After a few moments' silence, the verderer said, "You tell me you are
going to the Intendant's house; he is not at home."
"But young Mistress Patience is, I presume," said Edward.
"Yes," replied the man, who, finding that Edward appeared to know so
much about the Intendant's family, began to be more civil. "Yes, she is
at home, for I saw her in the garden this morning."
"And Oswald, is he at home?" rejoined Edward.
"Yes, he is. You appear to know our people, young man; who may you be,
if it is a fair question?"
"It would have been a fair question had you treated me fairly," replied
Edward; "but as it is no concern of yours, I shall leave you to find it
out."
This reply puzzled the man still more; and he now, from the tone of
authority assumed by Edward, began to imagine that he had made some
mistake, and that he was speaking to a superior, although clad in a
forester's dress. He therefore answered humbly, observing that he had
only been doing his duty.
Edward walked on without making any reply.
As they arrived within a hundred yards of the Intendant's house, Edward
said:
"I have now arrived at my destination, and am going into that house, as
I told you. Do you choose to enter it with me, or will you go to Oswald
Partridge and tell him that you have met with Edward Armitage in me
forest, and that I should be glad to see him? I believe you are under
his orders, are you not?"
"Yes, I am," replied the verderer, "and as I suppose that all's right, I
shall go and deliver your message."
Edward then turned away from the man, and went into the wicket-gate of
the garden, and knocked at the door of the house. The door was opened
by Patience Heatherstone herself, who said, "Oh, how glad I am to see
you! Come in." Edward took off his hat and bowed; Patience led the way
into her father's study, where Edward had been first received.
"And now," said Patience, extending her hand to Edward, "thanks, many
thanks, for your preserving me from so dreadful a death. You don't know
how unhappy I have been at not being able to give you my poor thanks for
your courageous behaviour."
Her hand still remained in Edward's while she said this.
"You rate what I did too highly," replied Edward; "I would have done the
same for any one in such distress: it was my duty as a--man," cavalier
he was about to say, but he checked himself.
"Sit down," said Patience, taking a chair,--"nay, no ceremony; I cannot
treat as an inferior one to whom I owe such a debt of gratitude."
Edward smiled as he took his seat.
"My father is as grateful to you as I am--I'm sure that he is; for I
heard him when at prayer call down blessings on your head. What can he
do for you? I begged Oswald Partridge to bring you here, that I might
find out. Oh, sir, do pray let me know how we can show our gratitude by
something more than words."
"You have shown it already, Mistress Patience," replied Edward; "have
you not honoured a poor forester with your hand in friendship, and even
admitted him to sit down before you?"
"He who has preserved my life at the risk of his own becomes to me as a
brother--at least I feel as a sister towards him: a debt is still a
debt, whether indebted to a king or to a--"
"Forester, Mistress Patience, that is the real word that you should not
have hesitated to have used: do you imagine that I am ashamed of my
calling?"
"To tell you candidly the truth, then," replied Patience, "I cannot
believe that you are what you profess to be. I mean to say, that
although a forester now, you were never brought up as such. My father
has an opinion allied to mine."
"I thank you both for your good opinion of me, but I fear that I cannot
raise myself above the condition of a forester; nay, from your father's
coming down here, and the new regulations, I have every chance of
sinking down to the lower grade of a deer-stealer and poacher; indeed,
had it not been that I had my gun with me, I should have been seized as
such this very day as I came over."
"But you were not shooting the deer, were you, sir?" inquired Patience.
"No, I was not; nor have I killed any since last I saw you."
"I am glad that I can say that to my father," replied Patience; "it will
much please him. He said to me that he thought you capable of much
higher employment than any that could be offered here, and only wished
to know what you would accept. He has interest--great interest--
although just now at variance with the rulers of this country, on
account of the--"
"Murder of the king, you would or you should have said, Mistress
Patience: I have heard how much he was opposed to that foul deed, and I
honour him for it."
"How kind, how truly kind you are to say so!" said Patience, the tears
starting in her eyes; "what pleasure to hear my father's conduct praised
by you!"
"Why, of course, Mistress Patience, all of my way of thinking must
praise him. Your father is in London, I hear?"
"Yes, he is; and that reminds me that you must want some refreshment
after your walk. I will call Phoebe." So saying, Patience left the
room.
The fact was, Mistress Patience was reminded that she had been sitting
with a young man some time, and alone with him--which was not quite
proper in those times, and when Phoebe appeared with the cold viands,
she retreated out of hearing, but remained in the room.
Edward partook of the meal offered him in silence, Patience occupying
herself with her work, and keeping her eyes fixed on it, unless when she
gave a slight glance at the table to see if anything was required. When
the meal was over, Phoebe removed the tray, and then Edward rose to take
his leave.
"Nay, do not go yet--I have much to say first; let me again ask you how
we can serve you."
"I never can take any office under the present rulers of the nation; so
that question is at rest."
"I was afraid you would answer so," replied Patience gravely: "do not
think I blame you; for many are there already who would gladly retrace
their steps if it were possible. They little thought, when they opposed
the king, that affairs would have ended as they have done. Where do you
live, sir?"
"At the opposite side of the forest, in a house belonging to me now, but
which was inherited by my grandfather."
"Do you live alone--surely not?"
"No, I do not."
"Nay, you may tell me anything, for I would never repeat what might hurt
you, or you might not wish to have known."
"I live with my brother and two sisters, for my grandfather is lately
dead."
"Is your brother younger than you are?"
"He is."
"And your sisters, what are their ages?"
"They are younger still."
"You told my father that you lived upon your farm?"
"We do."
"Is it a large farm?"
"No; very small."
"And does that support you?"
"That and killing wild cattle has lately."
"Yes, and killing deer also until lately?"
"You have guessed right."
"You were brought up at Arnwood, you told my father; did you not?"
"Yes, I was brought up there, and remained there until the death of
Colonel Beverley."
"And you were educated, were you not?"
"Yes; the chaplain taught me what little I do know."
"Then, if you were brought up in the house and educated by the chaplain,
surely Colonel Beverley never intended you for a forester?"
"He did not; I was to have been a soldier as soon as I was old enough to
bear arms."
"Perhaps you are distantly related to the late Colonel Beverley?"
"No; I am not _distantly_ related," replied Edward, who began to feel
uneasy at this close cross-examination; "but still, had Colonel Beverley
been alive, and the king still required his services, I have no doubt
that I should have been serving under him at this time. And now,
Mistress Patience, that I have answered so many questions of yours, may
I be permitted to ask a little about yourself in return? Have you any
brothers?"
"None; I am an only child."
"Have you only one parent alive?"
"Only one."
"What families are you connected with?"