Edward put the pony to a trot, and in two hours was on the other side
of the New Forest. The directions given to him by Jacob were not
forgotten, and before it was noon he found himself at the gate of the
keeper's house. Dismounting, and hanging the bridle of the pony over
the rail, he walked through a small garden, neatly kept, but, so early
in the year, not over gay, except that the crocus and snowdrops were
peeping. He rapped at the door with his knuckles, and a girl of about
fourteen, very neatly dressed, answered the summons.
"Is Oswald Partridge at home, maiden," said Edward.
"No, young man, he is not. He is in the forest."
"When will he return?"
"Toward the evening is his time, unless he is more than usually
successful."
"I have come some distance to find him," replied Edward; "and it would
vex me to return without seeing him. Has he a wife, or any one that I
could speak to?"
"He has no wife; but I am willing to deliver a message."
"I am come about some dogs which he promised to Jacob Armitage, my
relation; but the old man is too unwell, and has been for some time, to
come himself for them, and he has sent me."
"There are dogs, young and old, large and small, in the kennels; so far
do I know, and no more."
"I fear, then, I must wait till his return," replied Edward.
"I will speak to my father," replied the young girl, "if you will wait
one moment."
In a minute or two the girl returned, saying that her father begged
that he would walk in, and he would speak with him. Edward bowed, and
followed the young girl, who led the way to a room, in which was seated
a man dressed after the fashion of the Roundheads of the day. His
steeple-crowned hat lay on the chair, with his sword beneath it. He was
sitting at a table covered with papers.
"Here is the youth, father," said the girl; and having said this, she
crossed the room and took a seat by the side of the fire. The man, or
we should rather say gentleman--for he had the appearance of one,
notwithstanding the somber and peculiar dress he wore, continued to
read a letter which he had just opened; and Edward, who feared himself
the prisoner of a Roundhead, when he only expected to meet a keeper,
was further irritated by the neglect shown toward him by the party.
Forgetting that he was, by his own assertion, not Edward Beverley, but
the relative of one Jacob Armitage, he colored up with anger as he
stood at the door. Fortunately the time that it took the other party to
read through the letter gave Edward also time for recollecting the
disguise under which he appeared; the color subsided from his cheeks,
and he remained in silence, occasionally meeting the look of the little
girl, who, when their eyes met, immediately withdrew her glance.
"What is your business, young man?" at last said the gentleman at the
table.
"I came, sir, on private business with the keeper, Oswald Partridge, to
obtain two young hounds, which he promised to my grandfather, Jacob
Armitage."
"Armitage!" said the other party, referring to a list on the table;
"Armitage--Jacob--yes--I see he is one of the verderers. Why has he not
been here to call upon me?"
"For what reason should he call upon you, sir?" replied Edward.
"Simply, young man, because the New Forest is, by the Parliament,
committed to my charge. Notice has been given for all those who were
employed to come here, that they might be permitted to remain, or be
discharged, as I may deem most advisable."
"Jacob Armitage has heard nothing of this, sir," replied Edward. "He
was a keeper, appointed under the king; for two or three years his
allowances have never been paid, and he has lived on his own cottage,
which was left to him by his father, being his own property."
"And pray, may I ask, young man, do you live with Jacob Armitage?"
"I have done so for more than a year."
"And as your relation has received no pay and allowances, as you state,
pray by what means has he maintained himself?"
"How have the other keepers maintained themselves?" replied Edward.
"Do not put questions to me, sir," replied the gentleman; "but be
pleased to reply to mine. What has been the means of subsistence of
Jacob Armitage?"
"If you think he has no means of subsistence, sir, you are mistaken,"
replied Edward. "We have land of our own, which we cultivate; we have
our pony and our cart; we have our pigs and our cows."
"And they have been sufficient?"
"Had the patriarchs more?" replied Edward.
"You are pithy at reply, young man; but I know something of Jacob
Armitage, and we know," continued he, putting his finger close to some
writing opposite the name on the list, "with whom he has associated,
and with whom he has served. Now allow me to put one question. You have
come, you say, for two young hounds. Are their services required for
your pigs and cows, and to what uses are they to be put."
"We have as good a dog as there is in the forest," replied Edward; "but
we wished to have others in case we should lose him."
"As good a dog as in the forest--good for what?"
"For hunting."
"Then you acknowledge that you do hunt?"
"I acknowledge nothing for Jacob Armitage; he may answer for himself,"
replied Edward; "but allow me to assure you that if he has killed
venison, no one can blame him."
"Perhaps you will explain why?"
"Nothing is more easy. Jacob Armitage served King Charles, who employed
him as a verderer in the forest, and paid him his wages. Those who
should not have done so rebelled against the king, took his authority
from him, and the means of paying those he employed. They were still
servants of the king, for they were not dismissed; and, having no other
means of support, they considered that their good master would be but
too happy that they should support themselves by killing, for their
subsistence, that venison which they could no longer preserve for him
without eating some themselves."
"Then you admit that Jacob Armitage has killed the deer in the forest?"
"I admit nothing for Jacob Armitage."
"You admit that you have killed it yourself."
"I shall not answer that question, sir; in the first place, I am not
here to criminate myself; and, in the next, I must know by what
authority you have the right to inquire."
"Young man," replied the other, in a severe tone, "if you wish to know
my authority, malapert as you are (at this remark Edward started, yet,
recollecting himself, he compressed his lips and stood still), this is
my commission, appointing me the agent of Parliament to take charge and
superintend the New Forest, with power to appoint and dismiss those
whom I please. I presume you must take my word for it, as you can not
read and write."
Edward stepped up to the table, and very quietly took up the paper and
read it. "You have stated what is correct, sir," said he, laying it
down; "and the date of it is, I perceive, on the 20th of the last
month--December. It is, therefore, but eighteen days old."
"And what inference would you draw from that, young man?" replied the
gentleman, looking up to him with some astonishment.
"Simply this, sir--that Jacob Armitage has been laid up with the
rheumatism for three months, during which time he certainly has not
killed any venison. Now, sir, until the Parliament took the forest into
their hands, it undoubtedly belonged to his majesty, if it does not
now; therefore Jacob Armitage, for whatever slaughter he may have
committed, is, up to the present, only answerable to his sovereign,
King Charles."
"It is easy to perceive the school in which you have been brought up,
young man, even if there was not evidence on this paper that your
forefather served under the Cavalier, Colonel Beverley, and has been
brought up to his way of thinking."
"Sir, it is a base dog that bites the hand that feeds him," replied
Edward, with warmth. "Jacob Armitage, and his father before him, were
retainers in the family of Colonel Beverley; they were indebted to him
for the situation they held in the forest; indebted to him for every
thing; they revere his name, they uphold the cause for which he fell,
as I do."
"Young man, if you do not speak advisedly, at all events you speak
gratefully; neither have I a word of disrespect to offer to the memory
of Colonel Beverley, who was a gallant man, and true to the cause which
he espoused, although it was not a holy one; but, in my position, I can
not, in justice to those whom I serve, give places and emolument to
those who have been, and still are, as I may judge by your expressions,
adverse to the present government."
"Sir," replied Edward, "your language, with respect to Colonel
Beverley, has made me feel respect for you, which I confess I did not
at first; what you say is very just, not that I think you harm Jacob
Armitage, as, in the first place, I know that he would not serve under
you; and, in the next, that he is too old and infirm to hold the
situation; neither has he occasion for it, as his cottage and land are
his own, and you can not remove him."
"He has the title, I presume," replied the gentleman.
"He has the title given to his grandfather, long before King Charles
was born, and I presume the Parliament do not intend to invalidate the
acts of former kings."
"May I inquire what relation you are to Jacob Armitage?"
"I believe I have said before, his grandson."
"You live with him?"
"I do."
"And if the old man dies, will inherit his property?"
Edward smiled, and looking at the young girl, said:
"Now, I ask you, maiden, if your father does not presume upon his
office."
The young girl laughed, and said:
"He is in authority."
"Not over me, certainly, and not over my grandfather, for he has
dismissed him."
"Were you brought up at the cottage, young man?"
"No, sir, I was brought up at Arnwood. I was playmate of the children
of Colonel Beverley."
"Educated with them?"
"Yes, for as far as my willfulness would permit, the chaplain was
always ready to give me instruction."
"Where were you when Arnwood was burned down?"
"I was at the cottage at that time," replied Edward, grinding his teeth
and looking wildly.
"Nay, nay, I can forgive any expression of feeling on your part, young
man, when that dreadful and disgraceful deed is brought to your memory.
It was a stain that can never be effaced--a deed most diabolical, and
what we thought would call down the vengeance of Heaven. If prayers
could avert, or did avert it, they were not wanting on our side."
Edward remained silent: this admission on the part of the Roundhead
prevented an explosion on his part. He felt that all were not so bad as
he had imagined. After a long pause, he said:
"When I came here, sir, it was to seek Oswald Partridge, and obtain the
hounds which he had promised us; but I presume that my journey is now
useless."
"Why so?"
"Because you have the control of the forest, and will not permit dogs
for the chase to be given away to those who are not employed by the
powers that now govern."
"You have judged correctly, in so far that my duty is to prevent it;
but as the promise was made previous to the date of my commission, I
presume," said he, smiling, "you think I have no right to interfere, as
it will be an _ex post facto_ case if I do: I shall not, therefore,
interfere, only I must point out to you that the laws are still the
same relative to those who take the deer in the forest by stealth--you
understand me?"
"Yes, sir, I do; and if you will not be offended, I will give you a
candid reply."
"Speak, then."
"I consider that the deer in this forest belong to King Charles, who is
my lawful sovereign, and I own no authority but from him. I hold myself
answerable to him alone for any deer I may kill, and I feel sure of his
permission and full forgiveness for what I may do."
"That may be your opinion, my good sir, but it will not be the opinion
of the ruling powers; but if caught, you will be punished, and that by
me, in pursuance of the authority vested in me."
"Well, sir, if so, so be it. You have dismissed the Armitages on
account of their upholding the king, and you can not, therefore, be
surprised that they uphold him more than ever. Nor can you be surprised
if a dismissed verderer becomes a poacher."
"Nor can you be surprised, if a poacher is caught, that he incurs the
penalty," replied the Roundhead. "So now there's an end of our
argument. If you go into the kitchen you will find wherewithal to
refresh the outward man, and if you wish to remain till Oswald
Partridge comes home, you are welcome."
Edward, who felt indignant at being dismissed to the kitchen, nodded
his head and smiled upon the little girl, and left the room. "Well,"
thought he, as he went along the passage, "I came here for two puppies,
and I have found a Roundhead. I don't know how it is, but I am not
angry with him as I thought I should be. That little girl had a nice
smile--she was quite handsome when she smiled. Oh, this is the kitchen,
to which," thought he, "the Lord of Arnwood is dismissed by a
Covenanter and Roundhead, probably a tradesman or outlaw, who has
served the cause. Well, be it so; as Humphrey says, 'I'll bide my
time.' But there is no one here, so I'll try if there is a stable for
White Billy, who is tired, I presume, of being at the gate."
Edward returned by the way he came, went out of the front door and
through the garden to where the pony was made fast, and led him away in
search of a stable. He found one behind the house, and filling the rack
with hay, returned to the house and seated himself at a porch which was
at the door which led to the back premises, for the keeper's house was
large and commodious. Edward was in deep thought, when he was roused by
the little girl, the daughter of the newly-appointed intendant of the
forest, who said:
"I am afraid, young sir, you have had but sorry welcome in the kitchen,
as there was no one to receive you. I was not aware that Phoebe had
gone out. If you will come with me, I may perhaps find you refreshment."
"Thanks, maiden, you are kind and considerate to an avowed poacher,"
replied Edward.
"Oh, but you will not poach, I'm sure; and if you do, I'll beg you off
if I can," replied the girl, laughing.
Edward followed her into the kitchen, and she soon produced a cold fowl
and a venison pasty, which she placed on the table; she then went out
and returned with a jug of ale.
"There," said she, putting it on the table, "that is all that I can
find."
"Your father's name is Heatherstone, I believe. It was so on the
warrant."
"Yes, it is."
"And yours?"
"The same as my father's, I should presume."
"Yes, but your baptismal name?"
"You ask strange questions, young sir; but still I will answer you
that: my baptismal name is Patience."
"I thank you for your condescension," replied Edward "You live here?"
"For the present, good sir; and now I leave you."
"That's a nice little girl, thought Edward, although she is the
daughter of a Roundhead; and she calls me 'Sir.' I can not, therefore,
look like Jacob's grandson, and must be careful." Edward then set to
with a good appetite at the viands which had been placed before him,
and had just finished a hearty meal when Patience Heatherstone again
came in and said:
"Oswald Partridge is now coming home."
"I thank you, maiden," replied Edward. "May I ask a question of you?
Where is the king now?"
"I have heard that he resides at Hurst Castle," replied the girl;
"but," added she in a low tone, "all attempts to see him would be
useless and only hurt him and those who made the attempt." Having said
this, she left the room.