The seasons of the year seemed to take their tone from the spirit of
the times and the discord that was raging throughout the land. The
summer was gloomy and full of storms. Instead of bright sunshine and
smiling skies, heavy clouds had been gathering over the heavens from
the beginning of the year; and although every now and then a warm and
splendid day, such as that which we have described in the beginning of
this tale, broke in upon the heavy aspect of the summer, as if to
remind man of fairer and happier times, yet week after week passed in
tempests, rain, and gloom; and signs and portents, such as might have
alarmed nations in more superstitious days, were seen in the sky, and
filled the hearts of the more timid with apprehension.
It was upon the morning of one of these sad and frowning days that a
troop of horse, consisting of about a hundred and fifty men, well
armed and mounted, took its way across a wide and somewhat barren
plain about forty miles to the north-east of Bishop's Merton,
encumbered with a good deal of baggage, and escorting two or three of
the heavy carriages of the times, in which were some six or seven
women. The prospect was wide and dreary, extending in a number of grey
lines which afforded the eye no pleasing object to rest upon, except
here and there a little mound or tumulus bearing on its top a clump of
black-looking trees. In the distance was a range of low wood,
apparently stunted and withered by the chilling blasts which swept
over the plain; and a piece of water of some extent was seen
glistening on the right, with the sandy road, along which the
cavalcade took its way, winding between the mere and the wood. No
hedgerows broke the wide extent, and the ground appeared to be
somewhat marshy, for numerous ditches intersected it in every
direction, and a large trench ran along on either side of the path,
with here and there a small wooden bridge to cross from the sandy
highway to the green turf of the plain.
The progress of the party was not very quick, for, as we have said,
the carriages were heavy, and their wheels, as well as those of the
two or three carts and waggons, sank deep in the loose and shifting
soil of the road. By the side of the foremost of the carriages
generally rode a cavalier, with whom the reader is already acquainted
under the name of Lord Walton, and ever and anon he laid his hand upon
the heavy door, and spoke in at the window to his sister or to Arrah
Neil, the latter seldom replying except by a monosyllable or a look.
Annie Walton, however, conversed with him gaily and lightly; not that
her heart was by any means at ease, or her bosom without its
apprehensions; but she was well aware that her brother was grieved for
all the inconvenience that she suffered, and for the danger to which
she was exposed; and, with kindly and generous feeling towards him,
she made as little as possible of every annoyance on the march,
concealed all the fears that she might experience, and seemed
unconscious of the perils of the way. She might not, it is true,
deceive her brother as to her own sensations, for he knew her well,
and understood her kindness and devotion; but still it made the burden
lighter to him to hear no murmur, and to witness no terror.
From time to time, during the march of the two preceding days, some of
the rumours which, true and false alike, always run through a country
in a state of agitation, had reached Lord Walton's party, speaking of
troops marching hither and thither in the neighbourhood. Now it was a
detachment from Lord Essex's army; now it was a body of men crossing
the country, to reinforce Waller; now it was a body of militia called
out by parliamentary commissioners from the district or the county
through which they were passing. But Lord Walton paid little attention
to these reports, having taken every necessary precaution, by throwing
out several small parties in front, at the distance of about two or
three miles, to guard against surprise, and secure his onward course
towards Coventry.
When any rumour reached him, indeed, which bore more strongly the
semblance of truth than the rest, and was corroborated by his own
knowledge of the position and designs of the various persons to whom
it referred, he would ride forward to the head of the line, and
converse for a few minutes with a thin, bony, grave-looking personage
in black, who bore few signs of being a military man, except his large
boots of untanned leather, his heavy steel-mounted sword, and the
pistols at his saddle-bow. Thus, when they had got about half way
across the plain, and a horseman galloped up from the right, leaping
one or two narrow ditches by which it was intersected, and then, not
able to cross the wider trench which separated the road from the turf,
riding along by the side of the troop, and making signs to Charles
Walton that he had something to communicate, the young nobleman
accordingly reined in his horse, and suffering his party to pass on,
lingered behind till they were out of ear-shot.
"Well, Master Hurst," he then asked, "what is your news? I was sorry
you would not join us; but I am glad to see you here."
"I told Langan I would follow you, my lord," replied the new-comer;
"but I had to put my house in order, and sell some hay, for it does not
do to go soldiering in these times without money in one's pocket, and
I had but short notice. However, my lord, you had better be on your
guard; for, as I came over the moor, I found a boy keeping sheep out
there between the wood and the water, and, wishing to know whereabouts
you were, for I could not see you at that time----"
"You did not mention my name, I hope," said Lord Walton.
"Oh, no, my lord," answered the horseman; "I took care not to do that:
I only asked if he had seen a body of soldiers, without saying horse
or foot. So the boy said, 'Oh, yes; that there were five hundred and
fifty lying behind the wood,' for he had counted them, seemingly--like
a flock of sheep. Then I asked him how many horse there were; to which
he replied by saying, 'Two,' and that all the rest had guns and
bandoliers and steel caps, except a few, who had long pikes in their
hands."
"This seems serious," replied Lord Walton; "we must look to this
intelligence."
"There is more serious work behind, my lord," replied Hurst; "for this
news gave me the key to what I saw myself in the morning. These
musketeers are not alone. They have got cavalry for their support, my
lord, or I am much mistaken: not two hours ago I saw the tail of a
troop going into the little village, the spire of which you can just
see rising up there. I should have taken them for your men but that
they were coming the contrary road; so I avoided the village for fear
of worse."
"Well, Hurst, ride on to the next bridge," said Lord Walton, "and then
join me on the road with Major Randal, whom I must consult on our
proceedings."
Thus saying, he spurred on his horse, and galloped forward to the head
of the line, where, pulling up by the side of our spare friend in
black, he communicated to him all that he had just heard.
"Ah!" said Randal, in his usual dry and deliberate tone, "ah! Five
hundred and fifty musketeers--rather better, than three to one. That
would not matter if the ground were fair; but these ditches, these
ditches! they are awkward things in the way of cavalry; if our horses
could leap them as easily as their shot, the matter would soon be
settled. Does any one know what the ground is like there? They will
gall us sadly if we have to expose our flank to the wood."
"I fear so, indeed," replied Lord Walton; "but perhaps, if I were to
pass the next bridge, take a circuit round and dislodge them, while
you pursue your way along the road, we might contrive to get into
better fighting ground."
"Let us see what it is like first," said Randal: "here comes your
newsmonger, my lord; we shall learn more from him. Now, master yeoman,
how does the land lie about the wood? is there good room for a charge,
or is it cut up like this?"
"Between the wood and the road," answered Hurst, "it is just like a
gridiron, with ditches enough to drain the sea."
"And behind the wood, do you know anything of that?" continued Randal.
"It is good enough there," said the horseman, divining the object of
his question, "but you cannot get at it for the river.
"They have some good soldiers amongst them," said Randal. "Such ground
was not chosen by one of the old bottle-nosed serving-men of London."
"They must have good intelligence, too," said Lord Walton, "to fix so
exactly on a point where they can best attack us. If it were not for
my sister and the women, we might take their fire in passing, and get
into the good ground beyond; but the carriages and baggage would prove
a sad encumbrance."
"Ah, women, women!" cried Randal, "they are the causes of all the
mischief in the world. However, we must dispose of them, and must take
our resolution quickly; there is no going back now, my lord, and we
must make our way forward at whatever risk. Luckily, you have brought
all the spare horses and the women's saddles; they must quit the
carriages and mount. As for the baggage, it must take its chance and
belong to the winners."
"But I cannot expose my sister," exclaimed Lord Walton, "to such an
affair as this--she can go back to the village."
"No, no," said Randal, quickly; "there is no need of that; this good
yeoman can guide her round with the rest of the women, while we make
our way forward, and do the best that we can with these gentry in
front. They will not chase her if we keep on our way; but if we quit
the road, they will of course draw to their left and cut us off
between the causeway and the water. Now, my lord, be quick; get them
out and away: I will send a dozen of my men to escort them, with
Barecolt at their head. 'Tis the best task for him; for, though he
does not want courage, with women he will have room to talk, and that
is his chief occupation. He may lie, too, there, as much as he likes,
and nobody will find him out. Now, master yeoman, you be guide--lead
these ladies over the moor, round by the back of that great pond, and
into the open ground above it. When you get to that mound with the
trees on it, you may halt a bit, and watch what we are about on the
road. If you see that we get the worst, put to the spur, and gallop on
till you rejoin the Coventry road, then on as fast as may be to the
king, who will be in Coventry by noon to-morrow. If you see we make
good our ground, come back and join us."
"But there are horse in that village, sir," answered Hurst.
"That can't be helped," replied Randal; "we have no other chance.
Besides, they may be our people as well as the enemy's.--Stay; it may
be as well to see: I will send on Barecolt, while you halt on the
hill. He can play either part--swear and swagger like the most
licentious Cavalier, or cant and pule like the most starched Puritan."
While this conversation had been taking place, the party had not
ceased to advance slowly along the road; but the order to halt was now
given, and preparations were made for carrying into execution the plan
decided upon. The carriages were stopped, Miss Walton and her
attendants were placed hastily upon the spare horses which had been
brought from Bishop's Merton, and the small body under Captain
Barecolt were drawn out, and commanded to fall into the rear. Annie
Walton did all that she was told to do without a word; but she looked
in her brother's face, as he placed her on horseback, and, bending
down her beautiful head, kissed his cheek, while a silent,
irrepressible tear rose in her eye.
"Do not fear, Annie--do not, fear," said Charles Walton; "we will soon
put these fellows to the rout."
But it is vain, in moments of danger and difficulty, to commend
courage to those who, by fate or situation, are doomed to inactivity;
for they must still feel for those that they love, if not for
themselves; and though Miss Walton considered not for one moment the
personal peril which she encountered, her heart beat with
apprehensions for her brother, which no words could quiet or remove.
Lord Walton then turned to Arrah Neil, who was already mounted, and
leaning his hand on the horse's neck, he asked--"Can you manage the
horse, my poor Arrah? had you not better ride behind a trooper?"
"Oh, no," she said; "no, I can ride quite well--I remember now;" and,
indeed, the manner in which she held her rein, the ease and grace with
which she sat the horse, and the command which she had over it, though
a powerful and spirited animal, clearly showed that at some time she
must have been well accustomed to such exercise.
Lord Walton looked down with a thoughtful expression of countenance,
as if there were something that puzzled him. But just at that moment
Major Randal rode up, exclaiming.--"We must lose no more time, my
lord; if we halt any longer here, they may see what we are about, and
act accordingly. I shall order the troop to advance, for women are
always slow, and they must come after us as they can, till they reach
the little bridge up yonder. Let the carts and carriages come first,
and the women can bring up the rear. Now, mark ye, Barecolt, follow
this good yeoman, with the ladies under your charge, till you reach
that little mound with the trees on the right. You can deliver your
stomach by the way of any of the wild imaginations that may fret you;
but when you get to the mound you must give up talking, and, riding on
to the village alone, make use of your wits, if you have any left, to
ascertain whether there be a troop of horse in it, and of what side."
"Alone?" said Barecolt.
"To be sure," answered Randal, with a laugh; "the man who preached in
the morning at Rochelle, and defeated the Papists in the evening, who
defended the pass in the Cevennes single-handed against a whole army,
may well go on alone to reconnoitre a handful of cavalry. Besides, it
will make you careful, Master Barecolt, when you know that your own
life depends on your own tongue."
"It has often done that," answered Barecolt. "I remember, when I was
in Spain, being attacked by some twenty banditti, and putting my back
against a rock----"
"March!" cried Randal, interrupting him; "tell that to the girls. It
will do to pass the time as well as any other lie;" and riding on, he
led the way, while Lord Walton continued by his sister's side, till,
reaching the little bridge, the good farmer, Hurst, turned off from
the road into the meadows, followed by the young lady, her servants,
and the escort.
With anxious eyes Annie Walton and Arrah Neil watched the advance of
the larger party of horse towards the wood before them, although
neither of them had heard the exact cause of alarm, or was aware of
where the danger was to be apprehended, or what was its nature. All
they knew was, that peril lay upon the onward road; and,
notwithstanding all the assiduities of Captain Barecolt, who, riding
by their side wherever the space admitted it, endeavoured to entertain
them with some of the monstrous fictions in which his imagination was
accustomed to indulge, they listened not to his tales, they scarcely
even heard his words, but, their eyes turned constantly to the road
they had just quitted, pursued a path, forming with it an acute angle,
which led round the back of a large piece of water that lay gleaming
before them.
Once or twice they had to dismount, and lead their horses over the
little wooden bridges which crossed the ditches intersecting the
plain; and more than once, where these were so insecure as to give way
under the horses' feet, they were forced to quit their direct line,
and take a circuit. Nevertheless, as they cantered quickly over the
turf between, they had reached the little tree-covered knoll which had
been pointed out as their halting-place, before the troop which was
pursuing the high-road had arrived at the spot where the low wood we
have mentioned skirted the way.
That wood did not, indeed, approach close to the road, but lay at the
distance of from a hundred to a hundred and fifty yards on the left,
extending parallel with it for nearly a quarter of a mile, and having
a green meadow, and the continuation of the broad trench we have
mentioned between. A river of some width, flowing from the right,
crossed the highway under a bridge of two arches, at a short distance
from the wood; and at the moment that Miss Walton and her companions
reached the mound, the head of her brother's troop was about three
hundred yards from this bridge.
Knowing well that Major Randal was not a man to be trifled with,
Captain Barecolt, as soon as they had arrived at the appointed place,
took a flowery and ceremonious leave of Miss Walton, and rode on
towards the village of which they had now a better view than before.
The young lady's eyes, however, were still fixed upon her brother's
troop, as she remained half-way up the little mound, with her horse
turned towards the road and her maids behind, Arrah Neil upon her left
hand, and the small party of troopers a little in advance.
They had continued this for some four or five minutes in breathless
expectation of what was to come next, when they perceived the troop
brought to a sudden halt, and an apparent consultation take place at
the head of the little column. At that moment Annie Walton heard one
of the troopers just before her say aloud--"They have barricaded the
bridge, that's clear enough."
"Good God!" she exclaimed; "what will they do?"
But the man, although he heard her words, only turned his head over
his shoulder to give her a look, without making any reply.
"There is a little path, lady," said one of the maids, who, placed
higher up the hill, saw more distinctly the ground beneath--"there is
a little path down from the side of the bridge into the meadows below:
if they were to take that they could get out of the way of the wood,
and I should think could cross the river, for it spreads out there so
wide it must be shallow."
"They do not see it," said Annie Walton; "they do not see it for the
bank."
Almost as she spoke a considerable body of foot drew out from the
wood, and a party of about a hundred men running forward, drew up in
line close to the bridge, and opened a fire of musketry upon the small
troop of cavalry which occupied the road. Several horses at the head
of the line were seen to plunge violently, and one fell with its
rider. The next instant the whole were in motion, a charge was made
upon the bridge, and for a few moments all was confusion and disarray,
in which they could only see that the Cavaliers had recourse to their
pistols, and were endeavouring apparently to force the barricade.
"Oh! the path, the path!" cried Annie Walton. "If any man will ride
and tell them of the path, and that they can ford the river below, I
will give him a hundred crowns."
One of the troopers was instantly dashing forward, but the man who had
been left in command called him back, saying that they had been
ordered to remain there, and must obey. By this time the charge had
been repulsed, and the Cavaliers were retreating under a heavy fire in
some disarray. They formed again with great rapidity, however, behind
the waggons and carriages.
Miss Walton remonstrated against the recal of her messenger; but
without waiting to hear the reply, Arrah Neil exclaimed--"I will go,
dear lady; I will go! and shaking her rein, she put the horse to its
speed, and darted forward before any one could stop her.
"I will go, too!" cried Annie Walton. "Why should she risk her life,
and a sister fear?" and thus saying, she struck her horse with a whip
and followed. In a moment, without uttering a word, the stout yeoman,
Hurst, was by the lady's side; but Arrah Neil outsped them both, and
and rode direct for the path she had observed. Without fear, without
pause, the devoted girl rode on, although as soon as ever she was
perceived from the bridge the shots began to drop around her, for her
object was instantly divined, and no consideration for her sex
restrained the soldiery.
"This way, lady, this way!" cried Hurst, turning to the left; "we can
speak to them over the dike, and we shall be farther from the fire."
They were now within a few hundred yards of Lord Walton's party, and
he was seen at the head of the troop gesticulating vehemently to his
sister to keep back.
"Ride away, my dear! ride away!" cried Hurst, "I will go on!" but at
that moment a shot struck his charger, and horse and rider went down
together. Miss Walton, however, rode forward, seeing the good yeoman
struggling up; and Arrah Neil, too, pursued her way, reached the
bridge, dashed up the path, entered the road, and, in the midst of all
the fire, galloped on till, within ten yards of the carriages, a ball
struck the animal in the haunches, and he reared violently with the
pain. She still kept her seat, however, till Lord Walton, spurring
forward, seized the bridle and caught her in his arms, just as the
horse fell, and, struggling in the agonies of death, rolled over into
the dike.
"Good God! what is it?" exclaimed Charles Walton, bearing her back
behind the waggons. "Annie, Annie, ride away!" he shouted to his
sister; "if you love me, ride away!"
"There is a path down by the bridge; the river is fordable below!"
exclaimed Arrah Neil; "there are no dykes beyond the stream. All is
clear on that side."
"Look, look, Charles!" cried Miss Walton, pointing with her hand,
"there is a body of cavalry drawing out from the village, and some one
riding at full speed towards our people on the hill."
"Friends, on my life!" cried Major Randal. "Now, fair aid-de-camp,
gallop round there to the right, and keep out of fire. Tell your
people to charge the Roundheads in the front, while those from the
village take them on the flank, and we do the best we can on the
right. What was that you said, pretty maid?" he continued, addressing
Arrah Neil; "a path down by the bridge--the stream fordable?"
"Ride-away, Annie! ride away!" cried Lord Walton; "more to the right!
more to the right!"
"We must push forward the carriages and carts," said Major Randal;
"they will give us some shelter. Where this girl came up, there can we
go down."
"I saw the path quite clear," said one of the men.
But without more words the new plan proposed was immediately followed;
the carts, drawn up two abreast, were pushed forward towards the
bridge by the main strength of the dismounted troopers, for the horses
had become unmanageable, and the traces had been cut; and under
shelter of these and of the carriages, which formed a line on the
left, the troop advanced in good order to the bridge, notwithstanding
all the efforts of the musketeers.
In the mean while, Annie Walton took her way back towards the hill,
beckoning to the yeoman, Hurst, who had by this time freed himself
from his horse; but he, with that sort of passive bravery which is so
characteristic of the English peasant, continued deliberately to
unbuckle the girths of his saddle (about which, it appeared
afterwards, all his stock was stowed away in various bags and
contrivances), and made not the slightest effort to get out of
musket-shot till he got the whole upon his back, after which he
trudged away towards the hill, only injured by one ball which grazed
his arm.
Losing no time by the way, Miss Walton soon rejoined the party of
troopers at the knoll, and was giving them the order of Major Randal,
when Barecolt himself came up at full speed, exclaiming--
"Great news! great news! There is the Earl of Beverley with two
hundred horse, ready to charge the Roundheads in the flank."
"We have Major Randal's orders to charge them in front," said the
sergeant.
"Stay, stay!" cried Barecolt; "wait a minute, wait a minute and then
the man who does not kill his five of the enemy should never sit down
with a gentleman to dinner again. Steady, my men, steady; look to your
pistols; have ready your spurs. As soon as the earl has crossed the
road I give the word."
"See, see!" cried Annie Walton, "they have got down into the
meadow--they are fording the stream--see what a fire the enemy are
keeping up upon them. Oh! charge, charge, for God's sake, and help
them!"
"Madam, I always obey a lady," said Barecolt with a low bow, at the
same time raising the blade of his sword to his lips and kissing it.
"She is the best commanding officer in the world. Now!--upon them!
charge and at them!" and with these words he led his little troop
forward with an air of gallantry and determination which went far to
justify the gasconades in which he indulged.
The ford, though somewhat deep, was smooth and easy, but still it
exposed the troop of Cavaliers to a terrible fire of musketry from the
bridge; and Annie Walton, left alone with her women on the hill, saw
with a sinking heart flash after flash run along the road, whilst the
thick white smoke was wafted by the wind over her brother's party,
rendering the figures indistinct, and concealing their movements in
some degree from her eyes. A moment after, however, she saw two or
three horsemen break out of the clouds and gallop on for several
hundred yards into the meadows, then followed a greater number, and
she could hear shouts and calls, in the midst of which she thought she
distinguished her brother's voice; and then she saw the troopers halt
and form again in line, while Barecolt, with his little party, bore
steadily on at a quick pace somewhat to the right; and a much larger
body of cavalry, which seemed to have taken a circuit from the village
behind some hedgerows that skirted the edge of the plain appeared
advancing rapidly on the left of the musketeers, and occupying the
whole space between the wood and the high-road.
There was now a momentary pause, the firing ceased, the troop of Lord
Walton and Major Randal remained still, the smoke cleared in some
degree away, and Annie asked herself, "What next?"
The moment, however, that Barecolt came on a line with the rest, the
shrill blast of a trumpet was heard from the two larger bodies of
horse; all were again in movement; and, galloping forward towards the
point occupied by the musketeers, the three parties of royalists
charged headlong down upon them, while once more the bright flash of
the fire-arms ran along the line of the road, and the cloud of smoke
again rolled over the combatants.
It was no longer to be repulsed that the Cavaliers now charged. For
full ten minutes, the eyes of the watchers on the hill could perceive
nothing but one struggling and confused mass in the midst of the dim
white cloud, with the frequent flashes of the guns, and every now and
then a party of two or three becoming more apparent, and then plunging
again into the midst of the _mêlée_. At the same time the frequent
reports of the musketry and the long-continued blasts of the trumpet,
mingled with shouts and cries, were borne by the wind to the ear,
showing that the fight was continued with desperate determination on
each side; and Annie Walton could restrain her anxiety no longer, but
moved slowly forward towards the scene of combat.
Before she had advanced many yards, a horse without a rider rushed
across the road and galloped over the meadows towards her--paused,
turned round, and with elevated head and expanded nostrils gazed
towards the place from which he came--then with a wild neigh broke
away again, and rushed across the plain. In another instant, three or
four men on foot, with muskets in their hands, were seen running at
full speed, and Miss Walton checked her horse, fearing that they might
come near her; but they made direct for one of the ditches we have
mentioned, and jumping in, seemed to couch down for concealment.
"They have won the day," cried Annie Walton, and turning to her women,
who had followed somewhat slowly, she repeated, "The Cavaliers have
won the day. God grant it may be without great loss!" and at the
thought of what might be her brother's fate in that fierce fight, her
heart sank with that dread which we all feel when the veil which
always hangs more or less over the future, is brought nearer to our
eyes, so as to render our contemplation even of the present dim and
indistinct.
A larger party of foot, consisting of perhaps twenty or thirty men,
was then seen hurrying along the road; but close upon them came a body
of cavalry, and in a moment they were dispersed and flying over the
plain. Almost at the same time, the heavy mass of horse and infantry
which had so long remained mingled together near the bridge, seemed to
explode like a shell, parties of foot and horsemen scattering here and
there in every direction; and the terrible scene of a rout and pursuit
now took place--the musketeers in general casting down their arms and
dying, while the Cavaliers followed them here and there over the
plain, and put them to the sword on the least show of resistance.
In the midst of all this disarray and confusion, a group of some
twenty or thirty horsemen were seen gathered round a small flag upon
the highest part of the road near the bridge; and after a brief pause,
during which they remained perfectly still and motionless, the loud
and peculiar trumpet-call--known in those days as the recal to the
standard--came shrill but musical upon the air; and the next instant
four or five horsemen separated themselves from the party, and rode up
at an easy canter towards the wooded knoll.
Annie Walton gazed eagerly, and recognising her brother's form, after
one moment of brief anxiety rode on to meet him with her heart at
ease. Lord Walton pushed forward his horse before the rest, and
wheeling it by her side, pressed her hand in his, murmuring, "My
dearest Annie! my sweet sister! you have been sadly terrified, I fear,
but yet you have shown yourself a soldier's child."
"Oh, Charles, Charles! you are wounded!" cried Annie, looking in his
face, which was bleeding, and at a gory scarf which was round his left
arm.
"Nothing, nothing!" replied her brother. "Men will have scratches when
they fight with wild beasts, Annie; and these Roundheads have shown
themselves as fierce and intractable as wolves or lions. They fought
gallantly, however, it must be owned, and have made us pay dearly for
our success."
"I fear so, indeed, Charles," cried Miss Walton. "I am sure it must be
so. But poor Arrah Neil--is she safe?"
"Oh yes, thank God!" replied Lord Walton. "I sent just now to the
coach in which I had placed her, to make sure she was uninjured. I
must not blame her rashness, my Annie, nor yours either, for it has
been the means of saving us; but it was a terrible risk, my dear girl,
and your escape is a miracle."
"And good Major Randal?" asked Annie, willing to change the subject.
"He is safe too," replied Lord Walton, "and without a scratch, though
never man exposed himself more. But here comes another friend whom you
will be glad to see, and to whom we owe all our success."
"Oh, Sir Francis Clare!" exclaimed Miss Walton, a glow of pleasure
rising in her cheek; "I am most happy to see you."
"Nay, not Sir Francis Clare either," cried her brother, "but my oldest
and truest friend, the Earl of Beverley."
"Nay," said Annie, with a smile, "it was not fair of you, my lord, to
give me a false name the other day. I half intend to punish you by
treating you as a stranger still. Had you told me it was Lord
Beverley, I should not have said that I never heard my brother mention
you, for I can assure you, in former days, his letters were full of no
one else. However, there is my hand--I forgive you, trusting with all
a woman's foolish confidence that you had some good reason for
cheating me."
"I will never cheat you more, dear lady," replied Lord Beverley,
taking her hand and raising it to his lips; "but in such times as
these it is sometimes needful to seem not what we are, and these
_noms-de-guerre_ when once assumed should be kept up to every one. I
had to ride near two hundred miles across a disturbed country where
the name of Francis Clare might pass unquestioned, when that of
Beverley might have soon found me a lodging in the Tower. Walton said
it was a rash act of mine to risk such an expedition at all; but I
have just heard from him that I am not the only rash person where
there is a good cause and a great object to be gained."
"Nay, will you scold me too?" rejoined Miss Walton, laughing; "if so,
I will hold no further conversation with you. Yet, my good lord, to
say truth, I take less blame to myself for what I did than for not
doing it at once. To see the poor girl, Arrah Neil, willing to risk
her life to serve my brother, shamed me, to think that she should
encounter danger alone."
"But you might have sent one of the men, dear Annie," said Lord
Walton: "it was a soldier's, not a lady's task to carry such
intelligence."
"But they would not go," replied Annie Walton; and as they rode back
towards the high-road, she explained to her brother and his friend the
circumstances under which she had acted.
For a minute or two the conversation was as gay and cheerful as a
great success just obtained, a great deliverance just achieved, could
render it. Lord Beverley explained to his fair companion, that having
learned that morning on entering the neighbouring village with a body
of two hundred horse, which he had raised for the service of the king,
that a regiment of parliamentary musketeers were lying concealed at
the back of the wood, and supposing that their ambush was directed
against himself, he had determined to remain in the place, and defend
it, should need be, against them; but that when he found the passage
of Lord Walton's troop was opposed, and his friend in danger, he had
instantly called his men to the saddle, and advanced to support him.
Lord Walton, too, related many of those actions which in such scenes
of strife are always crowded into the space of a few minutes; and much
praise did he bestow upon the gallant determination of Major Randal
and his troop, and also upon the steadiness and courage displayed by
his own tenantry and adherents. Captain Barecolt himself had his full
share of commendation.
"I had thought," said Charles Walton, "from his ridiculous bravadoes
during the last two days, that the man must be at least a coward,
although Randal is not one to suffer such an animal near him; but it
proved quite the contrary; for I saw his long body constantly in the
thick of the _mêlée_, and his heavy sword cutting right and left at
the steel caps of the musketeers, over the very muzzles of their
guns."
As they approached nearer to the scene of conflict, however, the
sights which Miss Walton witnessed--the dead, the dying, the wounded,
the road stained with deep pools of blood, and the sounds that met her
ear--the groan of anguish, the sad complaint, the cry for water and
for help--blotted out all memory of their success; and with a
shuddering frame and a sad heart she followed her brother to the spot
where Major Randal was sitting by his cornet, on the parapet of the
bridge, receiving accounts from the different troopers as they came
in, of the prisoners taken from the enemy, and the killed and wounded
on their own part, while ever and anon a mounted trumpeter by his side
blew a loud, long blast, to call the parties from the pursuit.
"Ah, Miss Walton!" cried the old officer, starting up and addressing
her in his usual bluff tone; "I am glad to see you safe and well. I
will never say that women are of no use any more; for, by my faith,
you and that little girl got us out of a pretty predicament. I was
blind enough or stupid enough, and so were all the rest, not to mark
the little path, for we passed it in charging up to the bridge; but
even if we had seen it, we should not have known that the stream was
fordable below. However, get you into the carriage again, and shut
your eyes or draw the curtains, for I see you look white and sickish,
and these sights are not fit for women. The men will soon have pulled
down that barricade, and then you can go on, while we get up the
wounded and follow. We must do ten miles more to-night."
"I should prefer to ride," replied Miss Walton; "you had better put
the wounded people in the carriages."
"True, true; well bethought," answered the old soldier. "You are a
good girl after all."
Lord Walton smiled at this somewhat ambiguous compliment to his
sister; but, as no time was to be lost, he left her under the care of
Lord Beverly, and proceeded to give orders, and make those
arrangements which the circumstances required. The barricade,
which had been constructed hastily of felled trees, stone, and turf,
was speedily removed, and the foremost of the carriages was being
brought forward to receive some of the men severely wounded, who
were lying about within the very narrow circle to which the strife
had been confined, when Lord Walton's servant, Langan, rode up,
exclaiming--"My lord! my lord! the prisoners have made their escape."
"What prisoners?" demanded Lord Walton, forgetting those he had
brought from Bishop's Merton.
"Why, that Roundhead rascal and canting hypocrite, Dry, of Longsoaken,
with Thistleton, and the rest."
"No," rejoined Roger Hartup, who was standing near, with a severe
wound in his shoulder; "I shot Thistleton through the head after the
first charge. He had picked up a sword, I don't know how, and got out
of the carriage, and was just making a plunge at Jackson the forester
when I blew his brains out with my pistol; you will find him lying
behind the waggons. Of the rest I know nothing."
"They are all gone," answered Langan.
"And Arrah Neil?" exclaimed Lord Walton, advancing towards the
carriages. But Arrah Neil was not there.