The Severn was in flood, its wide valley a sheet of water, which
extended miles from either bank, and far up north towards Worcester.
Viewed from an eminence, it looked as if the primeval sea which once
washed the foots of the Malvern Hills had rolled back over its ancient
bed.
The city of Gloucester seemed standing on an island, some of its houses,
that lay low, submerged, and only approachable by boats; while the
causeways of the roads leading from it were under water, in places to a
depth of several feet.
This it was which had hindered Ambrose Powell arriving at Hollymead
House many hours earlier than that on which he was taken to it a
prisoner. For, soon as receiving news of the re-capture of Monmouth,
instinctively apprehending danger to the dear ones so unwisely left
alone, he had hurriedly started homeward; to be delayed by the
obstructing flood. Nearing home with heart a prey to anxiety, harassed
by the thought of his own imprudence; at length reaching it to find his
worst fears realised; himself no longer free.
The waters still prevailing in the Severn Valley and around Gloucester,
it seemed impossible to enter that city, save by boat. Yet on that same
night a pedestrian could have been seen making towards it from the
direction of Mitcheldean; one who meant it as the objective point of her
journey--for it was a woman.
The great cathedral clock was just tolling nine p.m. as she descended
into the lowlands near Highnam, and came to a stop by the edge of the
inundated district. It was dark, the moon still below the horizon; but
her precursory rays, reflected from fleecy clouds above it, threw a
faint light over the aqueous surface, sufficient to make objects
distinguishable at a good hundred yards' distance. Copses that seemed
islets, with the tufted heads of pollarded willows rising weirdlike out
of the water, were the conspicuous features of the flooded landscape.
Rows of the latter marked the boundaries of meadows; but two running
parallel, with a narrower list between, indicated the causeway of the
road.
The woman had approached this point at a rapid pace; and, though brought
to a stand, it was but a momentary pause, without thought of turning
back. Her attitude, and the expression upon her features, told of a
determination to continue on, and get inside Gloucester if that were
possible. In all haste, too; for as the strokes of the great clock-bell
came booming over the water, she counted them with evident anxiety, in
fear of their tolling ten instead of nine. Even the lesser number
seemed scarcely to satisfy her; as if, withal, she might be too late for
the business she was bent upon.
She but waited for the final reverberation; then, drawing her skirts
knee high, walked boldly into the flood, and onward.
Ankle-deep at the first step, she was soon in water that washed around
her garters. Here and there, with a current too, which threatened to
sweep her off her feet. But it did not deter her from advancing; and on
went she, without stop or show of hesitation; no sign of quailing in her
eye.
At knee's depth, as ere long she was, still enough of her showed above
the surface to represent the stature of an ordinary woman. For she was
not an ordinary woman, in height or otherwise--being Winny, the
cadgeress.
On tramped the courageous wader, on plunged, till the water was up to
mid thigh. No more then did her face show fear; nor sign of intention
to turn back. She would have gone on, had it come to swimming. For
swim she could; many the time having bathed her body in both Severn and
Wye. That was not needed now, though very near it. Even over the
raised ridge of the causeway the flood was feet deep. But, familiar
with the route, having the landmarks in her memory--for it was not her
first time to travel that road when submerged--she knew all its turns
and bearings; how to take them; took them; and at length having passed
the deepest depths, saw before her the Severn's bridge, with its
elevated _tete-de-pont_; and, beyond, the massive tower of the
cathedral, amidst a surrounding of roofs and chimneys.
Her perilous journey was near its end, the toilsome journey nigh over;
and she felt happy. For, as through frost some twelve months before,
she had approached Bristol with pleasant anticipations, so now was she
about to enter Gloucester with the same, and from a similar cause.
Her expectancy was realised sooner than she had hoped for; the result
identical to a degree of oddness. For just as upon that night at
Bristol, so on this at Gloucester, Rob Wilde chanced to be
guard-sergeant of the gate by which she sought admission.
And once again went their great arms around each other; their lips
closing in kisses loud and fervent as ever.
"God Almighty, Win!" he exclaimed, still holding her in honest, amorous
embrace, "what bet now? Why hast thee comed hither through the flood?
Dear girl! ye be's wet up to the--"
"No matter how high, Rob," she said, interrupting, "if 'twor up to the
neck, there be good reasons for't."
"What reasons?"
"News I ha' brought frae Ruardean; rayther us ought say Hollymead."
"Bad news be they? I needn't axe; I see't in your face."
"Bad enough; though nothin' more than might ha' been expected after the
Cavalieres bein' back at Monnerth, an' master's theer. Ye ha' heerd
that, I suppose?"
"Oh, certainly! The news got here day afore yesterday, in the night.
But fra Hollymead?"
"A troop o' 'em there, numberin' nigh two hundred; horse sodjers in
scarlet, wi' all sorts o' grand trappins; the Prince Rupert's they be.
Us ha' come wi' a message to Sir Richard. So I needn't tell ye who't be
from."
"No, you needn't. I can guess. Then ye maun see him at once?"
"Wi' not a minute's delay. Us ha' got a letter for him; an' she as sent
it sayed the deliverin' be a thing o' life an' death. I knows that
myself, Rob."
"Come along, love! The colonel be in his quarters, I think. He wor by
the gate here only a short whiles ago, and gied me orders for reportin'
to him there. Another kiss, Win dear, fore's we get into company."
The favour was conceded soon as asked; and, after another hug, with
more, than one osculation, the two great figures moved off side by side
through the darkness.