HARRY'S ANNOUNCEMENT.
Gilbert Clayton, Harry's friend, was a stranger to the rest of the
family; but Master Drury no sooner heard of his arrival than he invited
him to stay as long as he pleased, or as long as his business would
permit; and this was so warmly seconded by Harry, that young Clayton
could not but remain. He was the more willing to do this, as he had been
ordered by the doctors to leave London and reside in the country before
joining the army again, for he had received a dangerous wound the
previous summer in the battle of Chalgrove, where his kinsman, the brave
and pious John Hampden, was mortally wounded. It was by talking of John
Hampden that Harry first became acquainted with Gilbert Clayton, and now
he wanted to hear more of him and the gentle Sir Bevil Granville, who
had so bravely led on his pikemen at the battle of Lansdowne.
The talks about these heroes generally took place in the most quiet part
of the garden; for Gilbert Clayton, knowing his host's political
opinions differed from his own, was too courteous to bring forward the
subject before him and his family. Master Drury himself rarely talked of
public matters with any one, and loved his books and the quiet of his
study too well to take any active part in such affairs; and he said he
could help the King's cause more by his prayers than anything else; so
the two young men were left to amuse themselves as they pleased, and by
a sort of tacit understanding, these conversations were never carried on
in the presence of Mary or Maud.
Master Drury's household was managed by his sister, an elderly lady, who
looked after children and servants with the greatest watchfulness, lest
a moment of their time should be wasted. It was the rule of the
household that as soon as breakfast was over Mistress Mabel should take
her place in the high-backed chair at the head of the table in the
"keeping room," or general sitting-room, and with Bessie and Bertram on
each side of her, at their lessons, a huge basket of work was brought to
her side by one of the maids, and Mary and Maud were each set to work,
making or mending garments for the family. Fancy-work was never heard of
in those days, and Mistress Mabel would not have allowed any to be
brought forward in her presence, if it had been. Sometimes, as a rare
treat, when the lessons were well learned, a book was fetched from the
library, not a story-book--that would have been a waste of time,
according to this lady's rule--but a learned treatise on some abstruse
science, which generally set Bessie and Bertram yawning, so that the
reading was not much of a treat to them. Talking was not allowed from
any one until the children's lessons were learned, and not greatly
indulged in then. Later in the day, after the dairy had been visited and
the kitchen inspected, the spinning-wheels were brought out, and the
maids, who had finished their household and dairy work, were set down to
spin.
Harry had escaped from his aunt's dominion now, but his idle life was a
great eyesore to her, so that she took care no one else should share it.
Under these circumstances it is easy to understand that, without at all
intending it, a sort of suppression of what was really going on between
the two young men took place when they were with the rest of the family.
That Gilbert Clayton was as staunch a Cavalier as themselves was taken
for granted; while he thought they fully understood his principles and
the cause he was engaged in, and believed it was from refinement of
feeling that the matter was never referred to in his presence.
That he was helping his friend to see that the cause of the Parliament
was a just, honest cause, and one that must be espoused if civil and
religious liberty were ever to be secured for England, he knew full
well; but in doing this he believed he was only doing his duty, since
Harry had come to him first to talk about these matters.
So the days and weeks went quietly on at Hayslope Grange, and the pure
country air had so invigorated Gilbert Clayton that he began to talk of
returning to London, to make preparations for joining Lord Kimbolton's
army. Maud had heard that he was a soldier, and fully expected Harry
would speak to his father, and go to London with his friend.
She felt rather jealous of young Clayton, if the truth must be told, for
he quite monopolised Harry's society, so there had been no opportunity
of resuming the conversation that his arrival had interrupted, or she
might have discovered the mistake she had made. Hearing nothing of this,
and the day for Clayton's departure being fixed, she determined to seek
some opportunity of speaking to Harry. She was a noble, unselfish girl,
and though she knew his going would cost her the bitterest pang she had
ever felt, and be followed probably by weeks and months of anxious
suspense and dread, she would not hold him back--nay, she would urge him
to go at the call of duty, though all the sunshine of her life would
depart when he went; for months might pass before she heard of him
again, and he might be wounded, dying, or dead, and the tidings never
reach Hayslope Grange.
News travelled slowly in those days, and in the unsettled state of
affairs could not always be relied upon; but tidings reached Hayslope
just now that the Parliament had seized the Archbishop of Canterbury,
and his trial was now going on, the charges against him being that he
had tried to subvert civil and religious liberty in England, had been
the author of illegal and tyrannical proceedings in the court of Star
Chamber, and had suppressed godly ministers and godly preaching.
But to the family at Hayslope Grange these charges were as nothing
compared to the guilt the Parliament had incurred in seizing an anointed
prelate.
Master Drury lifted up his hands in silent horror when he heard it, and
Mistress Mabel burst into tears. The sight of their stern aunt crying
seemed to make more impression upon Bessie and Bertram than the fate of
the archbishop.
"Was he very wicked?" asked Bessie.
This was enough to drive back Mistress Mabel's tears. "Wicked!" she
repeated, in anger. "Never let me hear you ask such a question about one
of the Lord's anointed, Bessie, unless you would share in the sin of
those who have laid violent hands upon him."
"It is sacrilege," uttered Master Drury, slowly and solemnly.
Mistress Mabel, who did not often talk, found her tongue now, and used
it too, denouncing in the strongest terms the doings of the Parliament.
"What is to be the end of this evil generation, that worketh such
wickedness?" she said at last; and then, as if answering the query, went
on, "The land shall be desolate, and all the people perish." Bessie and
Bertram looked frightened. "What does that mean?" whispered the little
girl; "won't the people in the village have anything to eat, because
they are cruel to the archbishop?"
It was almost the first time any one at the Grange had thought of their
poor neighbours, and the burden they were silently bearing under these
great changes. Taxes were high, food was scarce, and many of the men had
joined the King's army; but none of the Drurys had thought of these
things except Harry, and it was the little scraps of news he heard in
the village that first led him to doubt whether the royal cause were the
just one.
He and Gilbert Clayton were absent when the news concerning the
archbishop first reached Hayslope; but when they returned in the evening
Harry knew that something had happened, by the look of anxious trouble
on his father's face, and the querulous restlessness of his aunt.
"What is the matter, Mary?" he asked, in an anxious whisper.
But Mary only held up her finger warningly. "The servants are coming
in," she murmured; and at the same moment Mistress Mabel placed the
Bible in front of the high-backed chair at the head of the table, and
Master Drury slowly took his seat.
Prayers for the King, Gilbert and Harry could both join in; for they
hoped God would change his heart, and teach him that it was most
unkingly to break his promises again and again, as he had done. But
to-night it seemed that Master Drury could think of nothing but of the
evil-doing of the Parliament in bringing the archbishop to trial; and he
prayed that all their plans might be frustrated, the King brought back
to his throne, and the archbishop restored to his charge; while those
who had troubled them might be visited with dire calamities and
afflictions.
His prayer was not concluded when Harry started from his knees and said,
in a hoarse voice, "Stop, my father, I pray you; you know not for what
you are asking."
All turned to look at him in silent, speechless wonder--all but Gilbert
Clayton, who rose from his knees and laid his hand upon Harry's
shoulder. "Come away," he whispered.
But Harry would not stir. "My father must not pray thus," he said, loud
enough for any one to hear.
Master Drury and the rest slowly rose from their knees.
"Harry, my boy, you are ill," said the gentleman, in a tone of
compassion.
"Prithee, now tell me where you have been racing all the day, to get
your head so disordered," said Mistress Mabel; and she despatched Mary
to her store closet for some herb tea for Harry to take at once.
"I don't want the herb tea, aunt," said Harry, in a clear, calm voice.
"I am quite well; the sun has not affected my head, and I know quite
well what I am about."
Aunt Mabel looked incredulous; but his father, losing the fear of
illness, sat down in his chair, a dim feeling of a sorer trouble than
this coming over him as he looked at Harry. "Sit down," he said, in a
tone of command to the rest, who stood just as they had risen from their
knees--"sit down and listen to the reason my son has to give for
interrupting our godly exercise this evening." And he looked towards
Harry as if waiting for his answer.
The young man instinctively drew a step nearer to Maud, as if mutely
asking her sympathy and support; but she was looking down upon the oaken
floor, utterly unable to comprehend what Harry could mean by this
strange proceeding.
Harry seemed to feel that he had acted unwisely in yielding to his
impulse; and he said, slowly, "Prithee, father, let me tell it to
yourself alone."
"By my faith, that cannot be now, Harry," said Master Drury,
energetically. "We have all been hindered in our devotions by your
froward speech, and each has an equal right to hear your reason for it."
The men and maid-servants gathered at the end of the room pitied poor
Harry in his confusion, and would have retreated, trusting to have their
curiosity gratified afterwards by the tell-tale tongue of Bessie or
Bertram; but Mistress Mabel's eye was upon them, and they knew they
dared not go away.
Harry's face changed from an ashy whiteness to crimson as his father
spoke, and then he went pale again as he said, "My father, do not force
me to speak out now; let me go to your study, and I will tell you all
that has been passing in my mind of late."
But Master Drury was inexorable when once he had made up his mind. "My
son, we are waiting," was all he said in reply to Harry's entreaty.
Harry drew himself up, and casting a hasty glance at Maud's bowed
figure, he said, "Father, I have resolved to cast in my lot with the
patriots who are striving to rescue this country from the grasp of
tyrants; they are not the evil-doers you think them. It is the King and
archbishop and their advisers who are traitors, not the Parliament, or
the brave, true men who are fighting for it."
He might have been hurried into saying much more, but at this moment
Maud fell to the ground with a piercing shriek; and at the same instant
Gilbert Clayton seized Harry's arm and dragged him from the room.
[Illustration: HARRY'S ANNOUNCEMENT.]