CHAPTER XI.
MYSTERIES.
As soon as Maud had sufficiently rested she returned to Hayslope withMaster Drury, who, now that he had made up his mind to do so, was allimpatient to return home. His visit to Oxford had been a very painfulone, for his faith in the King had been completely broken, and yet hehad been forced to hear of his son's condemnation to an ignominiousdeath, for principles he began dimly to see were right.
The last lingering remnants of loyalty forbade his seeking to see thatson, as much as the fear of offending his son-in-law, and yet he longedto fold Harry in his arms and look in his face once more.
When the travellers reached Hayslope they found the villagers in awildly excited state. Many of their relatives who had been fighting atNaseby were held prisoners by the Parliament, and of course could notreturn home this winter; and lads too young to serve as soldiers, andthe women, with Martin the blacksmith at their head, were wildlyclamouring for the destruction of the Parliament and all the rebels. Thepoor wounded messenger had most mysteriously disappeared, Maud heard,but on questioning some of them more closely, it seemed that he had morethan once been threatened by Martin, if he would not swear to serve theKing, while he stoutly refused, and at last he left the village with hiswound only half healed.
Poor old Dame Coppins was of course accused of having some hand in thisbusiness. Without the help of witchcraft the man could not have escaped,the women said, and for once Maud felt thankful to the unknown witch,whoever she might be, who had done this service. She believed inwitchcraft almost as fully as the ignorant villagers, but she did notbelieve Dame Coppins was a witch simply because she did not choose totell all the village her business--where she had come from, and what hadinduced her to take the lonely cottage outside Hayslope,--and this wasthe only reason they had for supposing her a witch.
Maud had tried to reason them out of this, had told them she was a poorwidow who had seen a great deal of trouble, and preferred a solitarylife; that she loved the Bible and feared God as much as any of them;but it was all of no avail. That any one could exist without gossip wasto them impossible to understand, and they shook their heads sadly, andthought Maud bewitched herself when she talked about Dame Coppins.
So the cottage in the lane was as lonely as ever, in spite of thepatronage extended to the widow by Maud and the two children at theGrange.
For a day or two after her return Maud was not able to go to thecottage, for Master Drury had scarcely reached home when he was takenseriously ill, and Mistress Mabel's herbs and decoctions failed torelieve his sickness for some time. Bertram and Bessie, however, wenteach day, and brought back the report that the widow had seemed veryjoyful when she heard that Maud had returned, and that her errand hadbeen so successful as to gain the prisoners their freedom.
Maud smiled when she heard this. "Marry, but their freedom is not gainedyet," she said, with something of a sigh.
"Dame Coppins says they are free, and on their way to London," saidBessie.
Maud opened her eyes. Was the old woman a witch after all? Bertram'snext words quite confirmed her in this wild notion. "Maud," he said in awhisper, "do you know that Harry was one of the prisoners."
"Who told you so?" asked Maud, quickly, for it had been agreed that thisintelligence should not reach the children, or even Mistress Mabel.
"Dame Coppins told me," replied Bertram; "she said he would have beenshot if you had not gone to Oxford with those papers," he added.
Maud actually shuddered with horror as the boy said this. "Bertram, youmust not go to Dame Coppins again," she said, quickly.
"Why not?" asked Bertram, in surprise.
"Prithee, I scarce can tell you, but--but you will keep it quite asecret, Bertram, even from Bessie," said Maud--"this dreadful thing I amgoing to tell you."
Bertram nodded. "Isn't she a good old woman?" he asked.
"Bertie, she's a witch," whispered Maud, in a tone of horror.
Bertram started back pale with fright. "I don't believe it, Maud," hesaid: "she couldn't talk about God taking care of Harry, and pray forHim to do it, if she was a wicked old witch. I do believe God took yousafe to Oxford in time because she prayed so much about it, and thatHe's kept Harry safe in all the battles, that he might come home to usagain in answer to Dame Coppins's prayers."
Bertram spoke quickly, almost passionately, but Maud only shook her headsadly. "I thought she was a good woman," she said, "but how could sheknow what happened at Oxford if she was not a witch? Nobody here knowsthat Harry was in prison--not even Mistress Mabel or the servants, sothat no one could tell her about it."
But Bertram was still unwilling to believe in Dame Coppins's wickedness,until Maud said pettishly, "I do believe she has bewitched you, Bertie,and you must not go to see her again."
"But I will go," said Bertram, beginning to lose his temper.
"Then I shall ask Mistress Mabel to forbid you going beyond the moat,"said Maud.
This threat, which Bertram knew she would put into execution, made himgive the required promise not to go and see Dame Coppins until Maud haddiscovered who had told her about Harry; which Maud feeling sure was adark mystery, that no one would ever be able to penetrate, made up hermind not to try, now that she had extorted this promise from Bertram.
Some thoughts of the poor old woman's anxiety troubled her after sheleft Bertram, and she wondered what effect their neglect might have uponthe mind of the villagers; but on this she resolved to keep eyes andears alike open whenever she went amongst them, so that she mightprotect her from violence should any be attempted or contemplated.
But it seemed that the people had forgotten the witch in their rageagainst the "Parliament rebels," and Maud could not discover whether theold woman was being supplied with food or not; and very soon the fearthat she would be starved to death began to take possession of her mind.To satisfy herself upon this point she resolved to walk down the lanelate one afternoon, when she would not be expected. Before she hadreached the cottage, however, she saw a litter borne between two mencarried into the garden, and then from this was lifted what looked likea huge roll of cloth, and taken into the house, while Dame Coppins cameand looked all round to make sure no one was in the lane. She did notsee Maud, for she had concealed herself behind a tree, but the younglady had a good view of the old woman's face, and saw that there waslittle fear of her dying of starvation yet. As soon as she could sheslipped out of her hiding-place and walked quickly up the lane. She wasafraid of going near the cottage now, and she wondered what freshwickedness Dame Coppins had been at. No wonder the people were afraid ofher when such mysterious doings as that were going on.
Maud thought she had more than sufficient evidence to prove that DameCoppins was a witch now, and began seriously to consider whether sheought not to inform against her; and she might have done this, onlyMaster Drury was taken ill again. Maud began to think this must be thewitch's work, when all Mistress Mabel's remedies failed, but she darednot say so, for fear the servants should tell the villagers, and theyshould attempt to drown her again; and so she suggested that a physicianshould be sent for to see her guardian. Mistress Mabel looked scornfulat first, but finally relented, and a boy was despatched to the town,and returned with the grave-looking doctor, in plumed hat, scarletcloak, and immense ruffles at his wrists. He looked grand enough to doanything if grandeur would do it, but he shook his head when he heardall Master Drury's ailments. Beyond this he would not commit himself,and so very little information was gained from his visit, and they couldonly wait in hope that his medicine would soon effect some improvementon the patient.
Meanwhile news had arrived that Prince Rupert had been compelled tosurrender Bristol and several other places in the west, and that anotherbattle disastrous to Charles had been fought at Rowton Moor. The Kinghad been completely defeated, and compelled to retire to Oxford for thewinter, and Captain Stanhope and his wife were coming to Hayslope. Thiswas the news brought by one or two of the men who came back to thevillage to tell of t
he death or imprisonment of others who had goneforth with them that sweet spring day a few months before. So the wintercame in gloomy enough, and men grew fiercer each day about the strifethat was raging in the land. In Hayslope all the rage was against theLondon Parliament, and many vowed that if one of Cromwell's troopersshowed himself there he should be killed, whoever he might be. Thisthreat did not disturb Maud much, even if she heard it, for she did notthink it was likely any of the Parliament men would come there, and shecould only feel glad that the messenger had gone away before the arrivalof these half-frenzied men. She still visited occasionally among thevillagers, and contributed to their wants as far as she could; but agood deal of her time was occupied with Master Drury now, and DameCoppins was almost forgotten, apparently.
She was therefore greatly surprised one day to receive a message from avillage lad, saying she was wanted down the lane. She had no doubt whowanted her, but she did not intend going; she would not give DameCoppins the opportunity of bewitching her any more; and so merelysaying, "Prithee, I will think about it," she walked home as fast as shecould.
That evening, about six o'clock, just as they were about to assemble forsupper, one of the maids came to her and whispered that she was wanted;a man, who refused to say who he was or where he came from, demanded tosee her.
Maud shivered: such mysterious messages were disagreeable, and she wasjust about to say she would not go, when Mistress Mabel appearing in thepassage settled the matter; for had she heard her refuse, there wouldhave been an instant inquiry, and the lady would not have rested untilshe found out all about the supposed witch and Maud's charities in thevillage.
So to prevent this she threw a cloak over her head, and followed themaid, without speaking, to where a muffled figure stood outside thedoor. She had only stepped off the threshold, when a gust of wind blewthe door close, and at the same moment her wrist was seized, and she wasdragged away from the house; and before she could even scream, or giveany alarm, she was lifted on to a horse, and the man sprang up beforeher, and galloped away into the village.
ABDUCTION OF MAUD.]
All the horrible tales Maud had ever heard of people being carried offby witches rushed to her mind when she saw that they were turning roundby the blacksmith's shed. All was dark and still, but she tried toscream, in hopes of raising some alarm; but fear had paralyzed hertongue, and she could not utter a sound. She was like one in all thehorrors of a nightmare, and believed she was on a phantom horse,although she could hear it splashing though the wet mud, precisely asCavalier did the day before, when she was out riding with MistressStanhope.
At length they stopped just opposite the widow's cottage, as Maudexpected, for she had no doubt that this ride was of the witch'splanning; and feeling powerless to resist, she suffered herself to belifted down, and expected to be carried into the house. But instead ofthis, a familiar, though scarcely remembered, but very human voice,said, "Go in, Mistress Maud, I will look after Cavalier." But Maud didnot move, although the man stepped to the horse's head. Before she couldmake up her mind, however, to run away, the cottage door opened, and aweak, quivering voice, said, "Roger, Roger, is that you?"
Without answering, the man left the horse and came to Maud. "Prithee, benot so sorrowful," he said; "there's hope for him yet, if we can onlyget a physician to him soon, and Dame Coppins says----"
But Maud staggered back as he would have led her into the house. "Tellme what it is, and who you are," she gasped.
The man was perplexed. "Marry, but you know me, Mistress Maud. I'mRoger, Master Drury's servant, and the letter told all about the rest, Itrow."
What the "rest" was Maud had not time to ask, for at that moment thecottage door opened again, and Dame Coppins drew her inside.
CHAPTER XII.
HARRY'S RETURN.
Suddenly stepping out of the darkness into the lighted room, Maud couldnot distinguish any object at first, and only heard as in a dream DameCoppins's words, "Be calm, Mistress Maud, for he is very weak, I trow."Then, looking across the room, she saw some one lying on a bed withhands eagerly outstretched towards her, and a faint voice uttered,"Maud, Maud, come to me; let me hold your hand once more." The sound ofthat feeble pleading voice brought back Maud's bewildered senses."Harry," she gasped, "Oh, my Harry!" and she was kneeling by the lowbed, kissing the thin white hands.
MEETING OF MAUD AND HARRY.]
For a few minutes no one came near them, and Maud knelt there sobbing,for her overstrained feelings would have vent, in spite of her effort tocontrol them.
Harry was the first to regain composure, and smoothing the soft braidsof her hair, he said, "I began to fear you would never forgive me, Maud;and I could not die without your forgiveness."
"Forgive you!" repeated Maud. "I have wanted to ask you to forgive mefor speaking as I did the morning you went away."
"I have nothing to forgive," said Harry. "You could not but believe Iwas a traitor, as you said, in refusing to serve the King."
"Nay, nay, but I ought to have believed you were acting conscientiously,although I could not see things as you saw them. I was hard,uncharitable, cruel, Harry."
"Nay, nay, Maud; cruel, when at Oxford you saved my life?"
"I did not know it was to save you," murmured Maud.
Harry looked disappointed, and dropped the hand he was holding. "Maud,when I saw you there, riding through the soldiers, I thought it was forme you came, although you had given your heart and hand to another."
Maud stared. "Given heart and hand to another!" she repeated.
"Hush! hush!" said Harry, "my secret shall die with me. I would not evenask about you when I came here, but suffer me to call you Maud thelittle while I stay."
"What other name should I be called?" asked Maud, in surprise.
"Nay, nay, I cannot play now, Maud," said Harry, "I would not evensuffer a word to be spoken about you until I heard Captain Stanhope andhis wife were coming from Oxford, and then I roused myself to write thatletter, for I longed to see you once again, as the companion of mychildhood and the friend----"
"Prithee, I have received no letter," said Maud.
"Marry, but I sent one, and the messenger said he had delivered it intothe hand of Mistress Stanhope herself," said Harry.
"But I am not Mistress Stanhope," said Maud, smiling.
Harry raised himself in bed, and looked earnestly into her face. "Youare not the wife of Captain Stanhope?" he repeated.
"No, it is Mary who is married," said Maud.
Harry fell back on his pillow, and Roger and Dame Coppins were obligedto administer some restoratives; but the moment he had revived he lookedround for Maud, and feebly murmured her name.
"I am with you, Harry dear," she whispered, and took his hand, whileDame Coppins told the story of how he had been brought there in a littersome weeks before by Roger and the messenger, who had fled to hercottage from the violence of the villagers. The man had remained withher until he recovered from his wound, and had told her who were theprisoners at Oxford, and the certainty of their release if the letterswere only delivered in time; and the old woman's joy on hearing fromBertram that Maud had reached Oxford as she did, unloosed her tongueand thus brought upon herself the charge of witchcraft. Maud feltheartily ashamed of her hasty judgment now, and when she heard howgreatly Harry had longed to see her, she felt more grieved than everthat she had stayed away from the cottage. Dame Coppins had feltanxious, when day after day passed and no one came from the Grange, forshe began to fear some of them had heard she had strange visitors, forit was the messenger who had been with her that informed Harry it wasdangerous for him to go to the village even to see his father, andpersuaded him to come to Dame Coppins's cottage, and wait for somechance to send to his father secretly. Roger came with him, for Harrywas too ill when he left London to travel alone, and all Dame Coppins'sherb tea had failed to do him any good; and so at last, feeling sure hehad not long to live, he wrote a letter to Maud, enclosing one to begiven to his father, asking his fo
rgiveness, and begging he would comeand see him. This was addressed to Mistress Stanhope, and delivered toher, but which she took care no one else should hear of, destroying herfather's letter as well as her own.
Maud did not hear this all at once. Harry could say but little more thatnight beyond how he had longed for her after the letter was sent, andhow disappointed he was that she did not come.
"But what made you think I was Mistress Stanhope?" asked Maud.
"Roger told me you were about to be married when he left the villagelast summer. We met in a slight skirmish soon after I recovered from mywounds, and enemies though we ought to have been, we could not helpexchanging a few friendly words; and it was because I knew he loved metruly, despite of the King's quarrel, that I asked his release, toattend me when I came home."
"Yes, Harry, you must come home," said Maud, in a determined tone.
"Yes, I am almost there," murmured Harry; "but it is harder to leavenow, Maud, than before I saw you, and heard about this mistake."
"Nay, nay, but it is to the Grange you must come, Harry," said Maud,with a faint blush. "Your father is ill, but the sight of you will dohim more good than all the physician can do; and if you are there thedoctor can attend to your wants as well."
But Harry shook his head. "I have longed to see my father and the oldGrange, Maud; but you must ask his forgiveness and blessing now. Icannot move from here."
"Nay, nay, but you must try, Harry," said Maud, almost wildly; "for mysake," she added, in a whisper.
Harry looked at the pleading face. "You forget," he said, "I have vowednever to set foot inside the Grange again. I came to Hayslope to ask myfather's forgiveness, but not to go to the Grange."
"It was a proud, rash vow," said Maud. "Your father has much to give upin receiving you, and it is but right you should first seek him."
Harry did not know how much he had indulged this proud, bitter spirit,until now, and it was only after much pleading from Maud that heconsented to give it up. She obtained a promise from him, however, thathe would come to the Grange before she left, and then she went homeagain, under Roger's guidance, to perform the more difficult task ofwinning a welcome for him there. As Cavalier trotted along her brain wasbusy upon the question how she should do this, and at length sheresolved to mention what had happened to no one but Master Drury. ToMistress Mabel's questioning she would answer she had been to see someone who was ill in the village, for if she and Mary heard Harry waslikely to return to his home, they would oppose it, she knew. Thehousehold had become somewhat accustomed to Maud's erratic doings bythis time, and so little wonder was expressed that she did not come intothe keeping-room to supper. Every one supposed she was in her own room,and so at the usual hour the watch dogs were set upon their guard andthe house locked up, and by the time Maud got there every light wasextinguished but the little lamp burning in Master Drury's room. Theapproach of Cavalier, therefore, at that unseasonable hour, was thesignal for all the dogs to set up a furious barking, and all thehousehold was aroused. Captain Stanhope was the first to make hisappearance at an open window, and demand the reason of the disturbance,warning the intruders that if they came a step nearer the house he woulddischarge his musket at them.
Maud hardly knew what to do, but begged Roger to let her reply, hopingthe gentleman would recognise her voice; but he failed to do this forsome time, until, assured it was a woman who was speaking, he consentedto come down and open the door, as soon as all the servants were armedto resist any attack that might be made.
Maud could not help laughing, and yet the dilemma was a serious one justnow, as she knew she should have to give an account of herself toeverybody. At length the door was opened, and Maud walked in past therow of servants, and upstairs to where Mistress Mabel, with Bertram andBessie, were shivering in the gallery with fright and cold.
Mistress Mabel was speechless with anger, and seizing Maud's wrist,marched her into Master Drury's room at once. "Now, Master Drury, youwill nathless make this wilful girl give an account of herself," saidthe lady, and she sat down; while Captain Stanhope and the rest cameinto the room, and the servants crowded round the door to hear what hadhappened.
"Marry, I would speak to Master Drury alone," said Maud.
"Nay, nay, you must speak out before us all, unless it is some shamefuldeed you would tell of," said Mistress Mabel and Mary both in a breath.
Maud turned and looked at Mary. "You know what I have to tell," shesaid, angrily, "for you had a letter from Harry, telling his father hewas dying, and craved his forgiveness."
Master Drury raised himself in bed. "You have seen my son--my Harry!" heexclaimed, eagerly, looking at Maud.
But Captain Stanhope stepped forward. "You forget," he whispered, "youhave no children but Mary and Bessie. Even the boy Bertram has turned tofollow his brother's way of thinking."
"Nay, nay," said the old man, pleadingly. "I must see my son, my Harry,before I die. Where is he? Where is he?" he asked of Maud.
"He will come to-morrow," replied Maud; "he is ill--very ill, but mayget better if he has a physician."
"Tell me all about him, Maud; you saved his life, I know."
Bertram and Bessie were almost as eager as their father to hear allabout their brother, and so in the hearing of them all, Maud told howshe had been fetched to the cottage that evening to see Harry.
Master Drury would have had him brought to the Grange that night, had itbeen possible, but was at length persuaded to wait until the morning, onMaud promising to go down and prepare him for the removal as soon as itwas light.
Captain Stanhope and his wife were the only ones who did not rejoice atthe thought of Harry's return, and it was easy to see why they were sodisappointed. The Captain, having an eye to Mary's wealth when hemarried her, had done all he could to increase Master Drury's angeragainst his son, and even persuaded him to disinherit Bertram in favourof Mary. Now the hopes this had raised were all crushed, and the nextday, before the litter arrived with Harry, the disappointed pair hadleft for Oxford. Mistress Mabel, finding her nephew's return wasinevitable, wisely made the best of it, and accorded a grim welcome,hoping they would not all be beheaded by-and-by for sheltering atraitor.
The meeting between the long-estranged father and son we will pass overin silence. Harry had not been at the Grange long before he began toimprove, and soon hinted that, instead of a funeral, there would have tobe a wedding for him. Master Drury too began to grow stronger, but theoverthrow of his faith in King Charles was a blow he could not recoverentirely; and although he confessed to his son that he believed he wasright in espousing the cause of the Parliament, yet he begged him not toleave the Grange again while he lived, a promise Harry was the morewilling to give since his health would not allow him to join the armyagain, and Maud had consented to be his wife early in the spring.
Mistress Mabel's fear of being beheaded for receiving her nephew wasquite groundless, and even Captain Stanhope was glad to ask the interestand protection of the man he had sought to injure when the Royalistswere ultimately defeated and the Commonwealth established. Before this,however, Harry succeeded his father as Master Drury of Hayslope Grange,for the old man never held up his head after the death of King Charles,and died a few months after the King was beheaded. His last days werecalm and tranquil. "By the grace of Christ," he was wont to say--"he hadconquered his pride and prejudice, which had brought such misery toHayslope Grange."
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