It was a bright sunny morning, when walking forth, as if for some mere
morning's excursion, the Earl of Beverley, with Lady Margaret Langley
leaning on his arm, and Lord Walton with his sister, took their way to
the old church in Shrewsbury. Arrah Neil, with old Major Randal, and
one or two of the servants, had gone a different way; for Annie
Walton, though the customs of those days were different, did not wish
in the midst of civil war, confusion, and bloodshed, to chequer sadder
scenes with the spectacle of a gay wedding. One by one they entered
the church. There was no gazing crowd to witness. All was quiet, and
even solemn; but the bright smile of the morning cheered the fair
bride's heart, and lent to imagination an augury of happy hours. The
ceremony was soon over; and Lord Walton gave his sister to his friend,
undoubtedly with joy and satisfaction; yet he could not refrain one
bitter sigh, or forbear from turning his eyes sadly and reproachfully
to Arrah Neil; but that glance was met by so tender, so imploring a
look from that fair and speaking face, that he easily read in it, that
to hold her resolution cost her as much as it cost him.
Four or five days passed after sweet Annie Walton had become the wife
of Lord Beverley, and still no news had been received from Bishop's
Merton. The king had returned some time before to Shrewsbury; many
bodies of men had flocked to his standard; reports favourable to his
cause had been rife; risings in his favour on the road to London had
been rumoured; and news had been received, that under the very walls
of Worcester Prince Rupert's fiery horse had defeated a superior party
of the enemy. Every one began to speak of a speedy advance towards the
capital, and all seemed glad of the prospect except Charles Walton. At
length the order for preparation was given, and all was bustle and
activity. Lord Walton proposed to his aunt to remain with her he loved
at Shrewsbury, but Lady Margaret answered--
"No, Charles; I will follow you as near as I can; and if I know Arrah
aright, she would not stay behind. As soon as you know the direction
of your march we will set out, and perhaps may be your harbingers to
prepare your quarters for you. I fear not, my dear boy. These
Roundheads are not anthropophagi, and will not eat up women and
children."
The royal army marched on the following morning, the 12th October; but
for ten days Arrah Neil only saw her lover once, at Bridgenorth, and
Annie Walton only once saw her husband; for, though the king's leave
was given that he should remain for a fortnight more with his bride at
Longnar, even love could not keep him from his duty, and love and duty
both taught her to follow where he went.
No news was heard of an enemy; the march of the king's force was
unopposed, and the only inconvenience that was experienced was the
frequent want of good provisions: for the false reports industriously
spread by the agents of the parliament induced the people of the
country to believe that the Cavaliers plundered wherever they went.
Day by day, however, Arrah Neil or her fair cousin received letters or
messengers from the army, and this was consolation under any
privation; till at length, towards the end of October, the small party
of ladies, with the servants that attended them, reached the village
of South Newington, a few miles from Banbury, and obtained lodging at
a large old farmhouse in the neighbourhood, close on the banks of the
little Sarbrook. They were indeed glad to find shelter, for the
weather was cold and stormy; and the good farmer received them
willingly enough, and prayed the king might prosper; for the vicinity
of a parliamentary garrison in Banbury had taught the peasantry,
though somewhat late in the day, that gross tyranny can be exercised
in the name of liberty, and bitter injustice practised by those who
have ever equity on their lips. It was about three in the afternoon
when they reached the farm-house, and while hasty preparations were
being made for their accommodation, which the extent of the building
rendered not very difficult, Arrah Neil stood at the window gazing out
upon the fields, the sky, and the stream. Heavy leaden clouds hung
overhead, and shut out the blue of heaven and the beams of the sun; a
dull grey shower was pouring down upon the earth, dimming the bright
colouring of the autumnal foliage; the stream ran turbid, with a sad
and solemn murmur, and the hoarse wind howled as it passed the
casement. Her thoughts were as gloomy as the scene, and something like
the dark shadow which used formerly to come over her seemed to rest
upon her spirit. The old stag-hound stalked up and put his muzzle in
her hand, but she noticed him not; the servants came and went, but she
saw them not; Lady Margaret spoke, but her ears did not catch the
sounds. At length Lady Beverley pronounced her name, and Arrah Neil
started, for the tones were like those of Lord Walton; and she was
turning round to reply when her eye caught sight of two Cavaliers
riding into the court. A look of joy instantly spread over her face,
and she exclaimed--
"Oh Annie! dear Annie! there is Captain Barecolt, and Charles will be
happy now!"
As soon as he could spring from his horse and find his way up the
stairs, Captain Barecolt was in the room. He was very pale and very
thin, and Annie Walton thought for a moment that he must be the bearer
of evil tidings, but his well-satisfied smile soon set her fears at
rest.
"What news? what news, sir?" exclaimed Lady Margaret, who had shared
the apprehensions of her niece.
"None but what is good, madam," replied the captain. "Lord Walton has
honoured me by making me his messenger from Edgecot, where he is now
with his majesty. No enemy is near; Banbury is about to be besieged,
and consequently cavalry is out of fashion; so we shall have three or
four days' repose, for they will doubtless hold out that time for
their honour; and, to say truth, I myself shall not be sorry for a
little rest, having been let blood pretty sharply since I stood last
in this fair presence. I can bear bleeding, methinks, as well as most
men, being somewhat accustomed to the process; but this Master Dry, of
Longsoaken, was an unskilful leech, and took so much that there was
very little left, and I was obliged to lie in bed at Chippenham for
ten days."
"But you are wet, Captain Barecolt, and fatigued," said Lady Beverley:
"will you take some refreshment?"
"Not before I have done my errand, bright lady," replied the officer;
"which is simply to tell you that my Lord Walton and your noble lord
will be here with all speed, and to give this packet to another fair
lady, in whose cause I have laboured and suffered successfully;" and
approaching Arrah Neil, who had been listening with eager attention to
every word that fell from his lips, he kissed her hand and gave her
her lover's letter.
She took and read it eagerly, while her heart beat fast and her brain
almost turned giddy with joy.
MY OWN BELOVED (it ran),--Barecolt joined me last night, delayed by
accidents which he will tell you. He brings with him all the papers
which were plundered from the cottage of poor old Neil; and they,
beyond all question, together with the others we possess, establish
your birth and your rights. I enclose them for your comfort. Show them
to Lady Margaret; and, dearest Arrah, remember the promise that you
made to me. We halt here for three days. I will be with you in an
hour, not to part with you again till you are the bride of him who
loves you more than life.
CHARLES WALTON.
Arrah paused for a moment or two and leaned upon the table. Her hand
that held the letter shook, and her cheek glowed; but there was light
in her beautiful eyes and a smile upon her sweet lip. Then calmly
gliding forward to Lady Margaret, she gave her the papers which her
lover's letter had contained, saying, "Now indeed I am beyond all
doubt your child."
Then turning to her cousin she placed Charles Walton's letter in her
hand, gazing on her face while she read it, with a look calm, but full
of many thoughts and feelings. Lady Beverley, when she had done, cast
her arm round her, whispering, "My dear Arrah, now I think he has a
right to expect----"
"Everything that love and gratitude can prompt," replied her fair
companion. "I would not thwart him even in a thought, Annie. To you,
sir," she continued, speaking aloud, and addressing Captain Barecolt,
"I owe an infinite debt, which I must trust to those who can acquit it
better to acknowledge fully and discharge. But indeed, Annie, he needs
tendance and refreshment. See, Lady Margaret is moved; will you order
him what is needful?"
"By your permission, fair ladies, I will even take care of myself,"
answered the redoubtable captain: "it is a trade I am accustomed to, I
can assure you; and wherever bread and bacon, ale and wine, are to be
found, I am quite equal to find them out."
"Pray do, sir; pray do," said Lady Beverley, and Captain Barecolt left
them to themselves.
The moments that intervened before the arrival of those who were
expected were full of agitation. The papers which Barecolt had
recovered from the house of Dry, of Longsoaken, were carefully
examined, and the full proofs of Arrah's birth were found beyond all
doubt. Amongst the rest were several letters of Lady Margaret and her
daughter, and a letter from the husband of the latter to his unhappy
wife on the day preceding his execution. Besides these were several
documents, showing that the small sum which had been annually paid to
Sergeant Nell proceeded from a cousin of the poor girl's father, who
had embraced the ecclesiastical profession, and was the abbot of a
monastery on the Continent. He, O'Donnell, and old Neil himself; were
the only persons entrusted with the secret of Arrah's birth; but it
appeared from one of the letters of a late date that the Abbé Tyrone
was still living; so that, if any further testimony had been required,
he could have furnished it. Beneath these papers was a parchment,
freshly written, signed and sealed by the king, and countersigned by
the proper officers, reversing the attainder of poor Arrah's father,
and declaring the confiscated estates restored. A momentary gleam of
light beamed forth upon her dark fate--how soon to be eclipsed again!
Some half-hour was thus consumed, but then the thoughts of all turned
happily to the expected arrival of those they loved. Ere an hour after
Captain Barecolt's arrival had passed, Arrah Neil placed herself once
more at the window to watch for their coming. She had not gazed long
through the decreasing light when her ear caught the sound of horses'
feet, and in a moment after Charles Walton and the earl, followed
by a few servants, rode up at a quick pace. They were accompanied,
however, by another gentleman in a black cassock, and a cloak to keep
him from the rain, and the poor girl's heart fluttered wildly at the
sight. But, still giving way to the impulse, she only paused to
exclaim--"Here they are, dear Annie!" and running down to the door,
was soon in Charles Walton's arms.
"Dear one! dear one!" said the young nobleman as he pressed her to his
heart, reading her deep love in her eyes; "I have come to put you to a
trial, my Arrah, and see whether you will keep your promise frankly."
"To the letter, and with pleasure, Charles," replied Arrah Neil, in a
low murmur that reached no ear but his.
"To-night?" asked Lord Walton. "The king's chaplain must return. All
forms are already cleared away."
"This very hour, if you desire it," answered she whom he loved; "your
lightest wish is my law, henceforth till death."
Charles Walton could not reply, but taking her hand he led her to the
chaplain, and then conducted him under her guidance to the room above.
We need not pause upon explanations. All was soon arranged and
determined. After a brief and sober meal, and with none but one or two
of the servants and Captain Barecolt present, the party formed a
circle round and the chaplain opened the book. In the silence that
succeeded, the howling of the wind and the pattering of the rain were
heard, and Arrah Neil turned an anxious glance towards the casement;
for, though her bosom was full of deep and strong emotions, there was
something in the sound that seemed to connect itself with them.
Charles Walton saw but her, thought of her alone; and after a brief
pause the chaplain went on. Word by word he read the whole service
through; the vow was plighted, the ring was on the finger; and, with
joy he had feared that he might never know, Charles Walton held Arrah
Neil to his bosom as his wife.
* * * * *
Silence had spread over the world for some hours. It was between two
and three in the morning, and as dark as the grave, when first a
horse's foot was heard coming at full speed, and then came loud
knocking at the door. All those who slept roused themselves, and in a
few minutes there were steps upon the stairs. The voice of Captain
Barecolt was then heard speaking to the Earl of Beverley.
"The king has sent, my lord," he said, "to order us to draw to a
rendezvous on the top of Edgehill, near Kineton. Lord Essex is in
force in the valley below, and it is resolved to give him battle. We
will cut him to mince-meat."
"Tell Lord Walton," said the voice of the earl--"knock at the opposite
door;" but ere Captain Barecolt could follow these directions the
young lord came out partly dressed.
"See that the horses be fed instantly, Barecolt," said Charles Walton,
"and have them saddled. I will join you in a few minutes," and he
retired. His bride rose and cast her arms around him in silence.
"Nay, Arrah, dear Arrah! I must go where my king commands," he said,
struggling against the feelings of his own heart.
"I know it, Charles," she answered, in a far calmer tone than he had
expected; "I would not keep you for aught on earth. But let me go with
you, my dear husband. I shall have no fear; I will stay upon some hill
as I did once before, and witness my hero fighting for his king."
"Impossible, impossible, dear girl?" he replied; "this is a very
different affair. To-night I trust, in God's mercy, to return and tell
you that we have won the victory and regained our monarch's throne. It
must be so indeed, my beloved; you know not what you ask."
Arrah paused in sad and silent thought for a moment, and then said,
"Well, let me be with you to the last before you go;" and dressing
herself hastily she followed him down. Lady Beverley was soon by her
side; few words were spoken; all was quick preparation; and ere four
o'clock, with pale, anxious faces, those two fair girls took one more
embrace, and saw their husbands ride away into the darkness. It had
ceased raining, but it was bitter cold, and the wind blew sharply in;
yet they gazed forth as long as even fancy could show the receding
forms, and then, linked arm in arm, they retired to Lady Beverley's
room to pray, each asking her own heart the question she did not dare
to utter aloud, "Who will return? who rest upon the field?" There was
a faint streak of grey in the sky when they parted, and Annie
counselled her fair cousin to lie down and try to sleep.