A LONG-DREADED SUMMONS.
"Who, grown familiar with the sky, will grope
Henceforward among groundlings?"
--ROBERT BROWNING.
It was on a bright evening in the end of May that the clatter of the
Black Horseman's horse-hoofs, now every day looked for by Primrose
and her guardian with mingled feelings of interest and apprehension,
was once more heard along the narrow road by the riverside, and the
old man, clasping his foster-child to his heart in a long embrace,
put her from him again with stern resolution, and went forth to greet
his guest, and receive the long-dreaded summons from her mysterious
unknown mother. He took the letter indoors, while the Black
Horseman, with thoughtful consideration for his feelings, refused his
invitation to enter the house, and promised to return in an hour's
time, to receive his answer. Primrose crept to his feet, and with
her head on his knee they read the letter together in silence. It
ran as follows:--"To Jack the boatman, a most loving, though erring
kinswoman sends greeting, offering to him her most hearty thanks for
his loving and tender care bestowed upon her child for the past
nineteen years, and promising him faithfully that she will never make
attempt by word or deed to sever the deep bond of affection between
them, but will ever promote their continued intercourse so far as in
her lies, now that the hour has at length come when she must claim
her child for her own, and remove her from the happy home of her
childhood. Her mother bids her make ready to accompany the Black
Horseman to town in one week's time from this present date, where she
shall be received into the most fond and tender care a mother can
offer. And should all go well, she shall accompany her mother later
in the year for a short season to the farm Glyn Helen, below the
Craig Aran mountain, whither her faithful guardian shall likewise be
invited to repair, and where much that cannot well be put into
writing shall be made clear to him. An unworthy mother can add no
more to what she fears can be but a sorry and unwelcome summons, save
an assurance of the great love and impatience with which she awaits
her beloved daughter, and of the undying gratitude she bears to her
honoured guardian."
"It is well," said Jack in a broken voice. "It is but the fulfilment
of long expectation, and it is better so. I am an old man whatever,
and shall but become daily less fit for the guardianship of so much
beauty. So fair a flower could ne'er be left to bloom alone, and
then wither and die upon these lonely river-banks. It is but right
that it should e'en be transplanted without delay to some fair
garden, where other peerless blossoms shall be fain to hang their
heads before its radiant beauty, and where the highest culture this
world can give shall bring it yet to greater and more complete
perfectness! Yet I can but fear me lest the world may sully my
blossom's sweet purity, and by adding more earthly bloom, dim
Heaven's own pure loveliness!" "Hush, dear dad, I pray you!" cried
Primrose, hiding her blushing, tearful face in her hands. "You would
fain turn my poor head, ere I leave you, with your loving speeches!
Yet I will ever pray that I may ne'er be less worthy of them than you
now account me. And doubt not that, after my own dear mother, and
perchance the father of whom she tells me nought, you will ever have
the first place in my thoughts." "That were a rash promise, sweet
one!" said Jack, a humorous smile lighting up his rugged face.
"Where will you then put your husband whatever?" "Ah, I had
forgotten him!" said Primrose innocently; then, colouring crimson at
so bold a speech, she hid her face, and trembled at the thoughts
which followed her careless words. "He dwells then already in your
thoughts--is it so?" said Jack, with a half-sigh. "Ah, well! 'Tis
ever so with young men and maidens, and I will not grudge thee to one
who is worthy. Indeed, I could easier give thee up to a tender
husband's care than to this unknown mother! Yet I know not verily
who shall be accounted worthy to wear my sweet flower next his heart,
since even the gay Sir Tristram, who had lands and gold and a
handsome countenance to boot, must needs be sent away weeping!" "I
have looked upon the sun," said Primrose quietly, "and beside his
light all other stars look pale. Perchance, dear dad, I may never
wed. Do you not remember how on my hand the gipsy saw no marriage?"
And she laughed lightly. "Beshrew the old witch and her vile
sayings!" exclaimed Jack indignantly. "My bridge bears a living
testimony to her falseness, for it stands as stoutly as of yore, in
spite of her warnings, and your marriage, my sweet one, hangs upon no
wicked words of hers." "Nay, I did but jest," answered Primrose;
"yet ever and anon I call her words to mind, and her wild song about
the Primrose and the Lily rings in my ears. If I must some day sleep
in the river, I would fain know who is the Lily who shall sleep there
with me, and why so mournful a fate must needs be promised us!" "She
can know nought of the 'lily-knight,'" she added to herself,
musingly; "and even if she should know of there being one so called,
why should she bear us both such ill-will as to foretell for us both
a watery grave? Ah, what folly thus to dwell upon her dark sayings!"
And laughing at her own childishness, Primrose banished the old gipsy
from her thoughts, and she and the boatman went forth together, to
tell to the vicar of Cwmfelin the wonderful news of her mother's
summons.
A week later the painful and long-dreaded parting was over; Primrose
had looked for the last time upon the home of her childhood as a
home, and had left the sunny Gwynnon Valley in the Black Horseman's
charge, to go out into the unknown world before her.
We will not dwell upon the old boatman's sorrow and loneliness of
heart, which were fully shared by good Master Rhys, who had also
looked upon Primrose as a dear daughter; but, leaving for a time the
fair vale of Gwynnon, we will follow Primrose to town, where, after a
journey made as easy and pleasant in those days of toilsome
travelling as the good physician knew how to make it, she arrived
safely in his charge, and was taken to the large and handsome
residence close to Hampton Court, in which she was to find her
mysterious parent.
Inscrutable as ever, he had vouchsafed no information whatever to his
young companion, on the journey, as to the future conditions of her
life, beguiling her thoughts instead with much talk about the various
towns and villages through which they passed, and with much learned
discourse upon those struggles between the king and Parliament, which
had already reached far-distant Wales in fragmentary and disquieting
rumours, and were agitating England every day more violently, and
more sorely perplexing men's hearts. So that Primrose felt her heart
stirred within her, as she entered the great city of London once
more, and felt herself to be in the midst of the struggling passions
of men whose hearts were daily beating higher with conflicting
emotions and desires, and where the general stream of public opinion
tended--who knew whither? "Sir Galahad said he would die for the
king," she said to herself, when her mind seemed sore perplexed with
all the Black Horseman told her, first on one side and then on
another, and she was fain to rest her woman's heart upon the judgment
of one she would trust against the world; "and if he thinks him a man
worth risking life for, then so do I, and I will e'en die for him
likewise, if needs must. My heart is for the king, I know right
well, and my reason shall not condemn my heart while the words of
Holy Writ bid us 'render obedience unto the king as supreme.' That
Book surely never bids us take up arms against our sovereign, be his
faults what they may, and since he is still a good and holy man in
private life, I will love him as before and think no ill." To which
loyal resolve the Black Horseman bade her ever be true, for he was
likewise himself a true-hearted cavalier, and though not blind to the
faults of Charles as king, loved him too truly as man to feel any
sympathy with his bitter foes, who, alas, were daily increasing in
number and in power.