No one cares to read of sickness and pain (unless it may be those whose
business it is to cure them), but I am in a manner compelled to say
something of my wounds, else my story later on would be hardly
understood. The cut in my wrist caused me much trouble by the third
day, so much that I could scarcely forbear from ripping off the
bandage. By-and-by the pain in my hand was almost intolerable. The
hurts in my shoulder were painful too. The earlier wound broke out
again, and the bite inflamed greatly, and a kind of fever came upon me,
so that I grew light-headed at times, and hardly knew where I was, or
what I said. When I was myself again, I fumed and chafed at my weak
and helpless condition, and sometimes grew frightened lest the bite of
the mad woman might communicate madness. I could not comprehend my own
irritability and want of self-command. The servants enraged me by
stealing in and out of my room so softly, and by speaking in sharp
whispers which went to my brain like stiletto thrusts. Good Mr.
Butharwick, who nursed me with nigh unsleeping care, nearly drove me
crazy by bidding me not to think of subjects which disturbed me, and by
talking of matters that in nowise concerned me. He had made some
astounding discovery about the children of Israel, and how their
destiny was written in the sky, as also were the future of the true
Church and the doom of Antichrist. Everything could be made plain to
one who read the Bible and knew astrology, and my good tutor appeared
to think I might be soothed by hearing these mysteries expounded. I
refrain from blasphemous language about the Holy Scriptures, but I said
things about the stars and star-gazing which hurt Mr. Butharwick
grievously.
Dick Portington watched with me one night, and in my intervals of
relief from pain, he told me how the commissioner had been carried away
more dead than alive, but vowing vengeance on those who had caused his
sufferings. Of fights between the Dutch and the Islonians he had much
to tell; how the men of Haxey had driven off Vermuijden's men, thrown
down their embankments, filled up the drains, burned carts and tools,
and utterly destroyed their works in the south of the Isle; how an
attack had been made on Sandtoft and repelled, some of the assailants
falling into the hands of the Dutch, who had flogged them within an
inch of their lives, and then turned them loose to shift as best they
could, threatening worse punishment to the next batch of captives.
This was done by order of the new commandant, Vliet, who was in high
esteem with the Dutchmen on account of his boldness and cunning.
Vermuijden had gone away to oversee another operation in Bedfordshire,
leaving Vliet in full authority.
For the next two days I was in high fever, and my guardians refused to
give Dick another opportunity of conversing with me. Luke was my best
nurse and companion in these days, for my stolid man was in love, and
in love with Martha, Anna's maid. They contrived to meet somehow,
whenever I gave him permission to cross to Sandtoft, which I was never
loath to do. If he had asked leave to go seven times a week, I should
not have said him nay. In fact, losing count of time as I sometimes
did, by reason of weakness and wandering of mind, I would ask him if he
meant to go to-day, and he would answer, "Lord love you, Measter Frank,
an' 'twere but yesterday I fared across." Through Luke I heard of my
love, and she sent me messages, and gave him directions about the
treatment of my hurts and as to my diet, Luke it was who told me that
her mother was an English woman, the daughter of a London merchant, who
had gone into exile for conscience sake. Martha also was of English
parentage, the child of a servant who had accompanied the family to the
Netherlands. "Which accounts for her pastry-making," added Luke.
Through Luke I heard that Vliet pressed his suit with ardour, Doctor
Goel seconding him; but that I had a friend at court in the maid, who
was a humble friend rather than a common servant, and hated Sebastian
with a perfect hatred. I was surprised and perplexed to hear Sheffield
had visited Sandtoft, and struck up a friendship with Vliet. This I
could not understand, and it disquieted me.
At the end of a fortnight I could go about a little, but the wounds in
the shoulder did not properly heal, and I recovered strength but slowly.
One day as I sat out on the lawn in front of the house, Luke near me,
busied in cleaning a gun, an old woman, with a tattered shawl over her
head and a basket on her arm, came feebly up the drive, now and then
coughing asthmatically. In a wheezing voice she begged to be allowed
to show me the contents of her basket. Luke gave her his stool, which
she accepted with profuse gratitude, and then asked for a drink of
water.
"Bring her a cordial, Luke," I said, as he went off to the kitchen.
As soon as he was out of hearing, the old woman said in Bess Boswell's
voice.
"Send him away again when he returns. I must have a private word with
you."
Sure enough, now I looked narrowly at her, I recognised the eyes, but
the rest of the face was that of an aged woman.
"What is the meaning of this mummery, Bess?" I asked.
"Have you forgotten what I told you? It is dangerous for me to be seen
speaking to you," she replied.
"No; but I can't for the life of me understand the danger," said I.
"Certainly you can't; but that does not alter the fact," answered she,
in a tone rather scornful of my sagacity, I thought.
Luke came toward us with the cordial at this point, and I bade him
leave us awhile, as the poor body had something to tell me of her
affairs. He withdrew out of earshot, but remained within sight of us.
"Your man is quicker of apprehension than you," she said. "He doesn't
know me, and he doesn't trust me. He is loading his gun, and keeping a
watchful eye on me; a good servant, that. I wish you would take a leaf
out of his book, and be on your guard against strangers. Two months
ago I begged you to go away out of the Isle, and it is by the most
wonderful luck you are alive to-day."
"I have been in danger once or twice; I do know so much."
Bess waved her hand loftily.
"I do not speak of mobs and crazy women; your enemies are much more
formidable."
"Come now, Bess, drop this mysterious style, and tell a plain tale, if
you have one. You mean that Sheffield owes me a grudge, and won't
stick at trifles to pay it. I know that as well as you, and I am not
shaking in my shoes about it."
Bess laughed. "One of your worst enemies is your confidence in bodily
strength and pluck. Lord Sheffield is not blessed with the sharpest
wits in the world, though he is more than your match in craftiness, but
he has the help of a man as cunning as the devil."
"Do you mean the Dutchman, Vliet?" I asked.
Bess laughed again. "The Dutchman is a bulldog, and, if you are
prudent, you will not go near his kennel. But you have to be on your
guard against one who can intrigue. Let me tell you there are sworn
accusations now at Castle Mulgrave that Daft Jack was your tool, and if
the poor fellow is caught he will be made to confess that he was."
"But it is a lie!" I exclaimed.
"I wonder how many lies have been confessed on the rack," retorted
Bess. "There is a charge against you--waiting for something to
strengthen the case--of having resisted the King's authority at Thorne,
and inciting others to do so. At the same time it is being whispered
about among the common sort that you are a traitor to the Islonian
cause, and to your father. The Dutch are told that you are their
secret enemy, the instigator of the attacks made on them."
"But these stories are contradictory, the one of the other!"
"What does that matter? The effect of them is that you are looked upon
with hate and disgust all round. You were in great favour with the
people just after the Crowle flood, but they are in a different mind
to-day. Tales are told of you in every alehouse which would be
laughable, if they were not believed. All this is done on the chance
that your enemy may be saved the trouble of your taking off; he is
prepared to act himself, if they don't."
"But what motive can he have?" I asked, incredulously.
"To get money," she answered.
"Who is the man?"
"Before I tell you, I must have your word never to betray me--never to
tell any one else, directly or indirectly."
"I give it you."
"The man is my father."
I laughed now. "Lord Bozzy," "cheating Bozzy," the gipsy rascal, whose
feats and pranks were a perpetual and relishing jest all over the Isle!
It was ridiculous to consider him in the light of a malignant, subtle
enemy.
Bess gave me a contemptuous smile. "Do you happen to know that he has
stolen a horse, and sold it afterwards to the man from whom he had
stolen it? Did you ever hear of his being entertained as an honoured
guest at the house of a magistrate, who had condemned him to the stocks
a day or two before? Have you heard of his passing for a clergyman,
London merchant, French traveller, and a dozen other characters, among
people who knew him well, or thought they did? And if he can take in
every dull-witted squire in the Isle just for mirth and play, what do
you suppose he can't do, when he is to gain a fortune by doing it?"
On reflection, I admitted to myself that contempt for Boswell might be
foolish, and passed at once to suspicion. What if this girl had been
employed to frighten me away? Her I did not suspect, but might she not
have been allowed to hear this and that, in the hope that she would
inform me, and so I might be driven out of the Isle? A fine fellow I
should be to run for my life, because a wench cried Bugaboo!
"Well, Bess, I am infinitely obliged to you," I said; "but I am not
likely to take to flight. If you are good enough to warn me of any
scheme you may hear of, I shall be forearmed."
"Do you suppose my father imparts his plans to me, or any one? I may
guess his design by some direction he gives; I may divine a purpose by
watching him closely. He doesn't talk of doing a thing, he does it."
It was curious to see the sort of pride she had in the man whose plans
she was endeavouring to thwart, pride mingled with fear.
We sat a little while in silence. Then Bess got up to go.
"You will not heed my warning? Oh, you are bewitched, or you would not
lose house and land, scorn a fair damsel, who would be your loving,
faithful wife, break your father's heart, risk your life, all for--an
outlandish woman!"
"I believe you honest, Bess," I rejoined; "but is all this of your own
motion?"
"And who should prompt me?" she asked.
"Nay, that I cannot guess."
"Nor ever will." And away she went without another word.
A day or two later, my father returned, looking worn and aged, so that
my heart ached to see the change. He, on his part, was deeply
concerned to find me weak and ailing, and sent Luke to Doncaster with a
letter to a physician there, forbidding him to return until he could
bring the doctor. When he heard that my wounds had been got in
defending the Goels, he refrained from speech, but his looks were of
sorrow and anger both.
Late in the evening he gave to Mr. Butharwick and me an account of what
he had done to get the decision of the judges put in force against
Vermuijden, but all in vain. At length he determined to appeal to the
King himself, whose will made null and void the sentence of the law.
He bribed some of his Majesty's attendants heavily, but could not for a
long time obtain audience. The King was in such anxiety and excitement
about the Queen's French servants, of whom he greatly desired to be
rid, and to have them sent back to their own country, that he could
think or hear of nothing else, unless it were of some means of laying
hands on money, which he wanted sorely. So the courtiers and servants
said. Nevertheless, my father followed the King, who was exceedingly
restless, from one place to another, seeking a favourable occasion, and
at last found it in a village near Cambridge. One of the King's
gentlemen, who had taken my father's money, came to him at his lodging,
reporting his Majesty to be in better humour that evening, having had
from his Grace of Buckingham a letter which satisfied him the mounseers
would soon be packed off to France. Seeing him in this temper, the
gentleman had presented my father's petition, which the King had read,
and then signified that the petitioner might be admitted to his chamber.
"But as soon as I came into the King's presence," said my father, "I
knew, by the scowl on his face, my plea had no chance of success. He
did not condescend to speak to me until he had told his people I was
from Lincolnshire, which Henry VIII. had declared the most disloyal
county in England, which condemnation was justified in his own
experience. And of this rebellious county, the worst part was the Isle
of Axholme, where one of his commissioners had been vilely used of
late. Then he went on to say that in his care for his subjects in that
barbarous corner of his dominions, he had authorized a scheme for
reclaiming many acres of soil now under water, and, pointing to me, he
said, 'This fellow has dared to defy his King by opposing our gracious
purpose, setting forth I know not what legal quibbles in the courts of
law; and when he fails in his rebellious design, actually has the
audacity to approach us in person.' Then he tore up the paper and
threw it into the fire, and turned to me, saying, 'Go to the devil, and
thank your stars you are not helped thither by a sword through your
body.' Whereupon I was jostled out of the sacred presence."
After Mr. Butharwick had retired, my father opened out to me on the
state of our affairs, and in a strain altogether new. The change was
so great as to make me afraid of I hardly knew what. He, who was used
to speak and act with so much resolution and masterfulness, now
lamented his unwisdom in taking upon him the burdensome charge of the
"solicitorship," and accused himself of wronging me thereby. I could
scarcely believe my ears, and doubted whether I was awake or dreaming.
"I had confidence that a just cause must prevail in England, but I
ought to have perceived that everything is changed in this country. A
King, who despises the rights of his people in general, and flouts his
Parliament, cannot be hindered of his will with a few landowners and
poor folk in Axholme, when he is in dire straits for money, and can get
it by trampling us underfoot. In my foolish confidence I have done a
great wrong by encumbering the estate so heavily."
I knew not how to answer; babbled something about doing our utmost to
repair the mischief.
"Happily, it is possible to do that," he replied. "There is no doubt
that Mistress Ryther and her father will welcome you as a suitor for
her hand in marriage. You may not be inclined for matrimony just at
present, and there is no hurry, but you should lose no time in asking
the lady's promise. That obtained, all our troubles are at an end.
And as soon as you are wedded I will go abroad, taking Butharwick with
me, leaving the bride to queen it here. When I return, a house in
Beltoft will suffice for me.
"Unfortunately, I cannot ask Mistress Ryther to marry me," I answered,
"because I love another lady with every fibre of my body and every
thought of my heart."
My father smiled. "You think so, Frank; and it is partly my fault. I
ought to have turned you loose in town, sent you on the grand tour,
given you a chance to prove how often we can be in love, and how
quickly out of it again. 'Tis a malady incident to youth, a passing
fever; but while the delirium lasts, we see and converse with angels.
Change of air is a cure for it."
How I threw scorn on this scorn of love, how I protested and vowed my
love could not die, may be imagined by a lover, and no other would care
to read such matter.
My father replied, with an indulgent smile, "Yes, yes, my son, I know.
But you must see that marriage with the Dutch girl is out of the
question. You have nothing to marry on. If you refuse Mistress
Ryther, you are a landless, penniless man. Even if it were otherwise,
how can you wed the daughter of a fellow who broke prison and fled his
country, sooner than take his trial for conspiracy to murder his
Prince? A pretty family connection for the master of Temple Belwood!
You might as well propose to marry a gipsy; better indeed, for your own
people would not burn the house over your head for that, as they
certainly would, if you took a wife from the camp of the Dutch
invaders. Besides, the girl is mated already--or as good as
mated--with a rascal who was drummed out of King Christian's army for
cheating at dice. You see I have taken some pains to inform myself
about your Fancy and her associates."
"And who is your informant, may I ask?"
"A Frenchman, Chavatte by name, a gentleman and a man of affairs, who
came over with Vermuijden, putting much money into the business. I met
with him at Cambridge, where he was seeking Vermuijden, as I was
seeking the Lord's Anointed. He has withdrawn from the company for
good reasons. For one thing, he is convinced that the plan for the
drainage is fatally defective, and Vermuijden will not hear of
alteration. Then he has discovered that the King has sold what never
belonged to him, and has no mind to be a receiver of stolen goods, nor
does he expect that the rightful owners will ever submit to the
robbery. And he has the strongest distaste to Vermuijden's lieutenant
and deputy. He is trying to recover some of his money, and will
shortly go home. You will be inclined to consider him a man of sense,
for he admires Mistress Goel's beauty, and applauds her devotion to her
father, whom he regards as lunatic, most especially because he desires
to give her in marriage to this Vliet. 'But he finds favour with the
incomprehensible sex,' Chavatte added, with his French shrug of the
shoulders."
I did not speak for some time. A horrible doubt had crept into my
mind. Suppose Anna's filial piety should overcome her repugnance to
Sebastian Vliet. Suppose the fellow had reformed his conduct. Suppose
he succeeded in gaining her consent. If Anna were lost to me, what
mattered it to me whether I married Mistress Ryther, or a gipsy, or a
blackamoor? If I could redeem the dear old place, and make my father
happy, was it not my duty to do so? Always supposing that Anna could
not, or would not be my wife. It was the first time I had given way to
despondency, and even now I do not understand what it was that plunged
me into gloom.
One thing only was clear to me, that I must see Anna without delay, and
learn whether I was to be blessed or miserable for the whole of my
life. I could not keep before myself that I had nothing to offer for
her acceptance, or that her father might treat the offer with ridicule.
I could think of nothing but the necessity to see Anna, and hear the
word which should decide my fate. My father said nothing to interrupt
my meditations. Since he had been away from home, he had formed the
habit of smoking, and he now lighted his pipe and puffed silently.
When he had finished his pipe and knocked out the ashes, he said--
"I will not press you for an answer to-night; but it is to be
remembered that handsome young women, who have heaps of money, are not
as plentiful as blackberries in September."
"I will give you an answer to-morrow evening," I replied; but did not
say anything of my intention to go to Sandtoft in the morning, for I
felt certain my father would oppose it strongly. Indeed, what with the
lightness of my head and the heaviness of my heart, it took me some
time to get upstairs and to bed. Luke, who was accustomed to help me,
was away, and it occurred to me that if I missed him to-night, I should
miss him much more to-morrow.