CHAPTER XXIX
THE PURITAN'S COTTAGE
"The court house is not so full to-day."
"Nay. Do you mind when John Bunyan was tried? Ay, but he answered thejustices boldly, and so cleverly that they could not gainsay him."
"True, but they clapped him into gaol for all that."
"Ay, they did; but that did not depend upon the trial. They had made uptheir minds to do that before he was brought hither. John was among thefirst, and people thought much of the trials then. We have had so manysince that we be getting used to them."
"Well, it makes it pay to be religious."
"Nay, say rather it makes it a paying business to go to church. There'snought of religion in sending godly people to prison for praying intheir own way."
"Hush, man! Men be spying around everywhere, and it takes but little toget fined. I hear there is a lot of paid spies, whose business it is togo around to hear folks talk and to give information to the justices."
"Ay, I suppose so. And yet these Dissenters pray and preach more thanever. I am told that they be increasing in number every week."
"And yet I hear that the king and the clergy say they'll never stopuntil there's not a Dissenter left in the land."
"Ay, I suppose so."
All this and much more I heard as I stood in the Chapel of Herne thatMarch morning, for although it was wellnigh ten o'clock as I entered thebuilding, the justices did not come until late. The reason for this was,that although only the petty sessions were to be held that day, so greatwas the interest taken in the Nonconformists that both Sir HenryChester, of Tilsworth, and Sir George Blundell, of Cardington Manor, haddeclared their intention of being present, I heard, moreover, that boththese worshipful gentlemen were very bitter against the Dissenters, andthat Sir George Blundell had said that he would "sell a cow for ashilling" rather than the work against them should not go forward. Itwas also said that when Sir Matthew Hale visited Bedford, he would haveset John Bunyan at liberty but for Sir Henry Chester, who declared thatBunyan was a good-for-nothing fellow, who preferred going aroundstirring up dissension to working at his proper trade, which was that ofa travelling tinker.
It was because they were late that proceedings did not begin at theproper hour that morning. When they arrived near noon-day, however,their entrance made a great stir, and they took their seats on the benchwith a great show of importance.
I stayed only during the trial of one who was brought thither thatmorning, but I was told that the other cases were dismissed with greatspeed, as the justices had some appointment elsewhere which they wishedto keep. The man who was tried while I was there was called JamesIreton, whose name, I was told, went much against him, seeing thatColonel Ireton had been hanged by the king only a little time before.
He was only a young man, it may be of twenty-five years of age, andlooked a harmless sort of fellow, although I saw by the look of quietdetermination in his eyes that he was not one who would be easily turnedaside from his purposes. He was a blacksmith by trade, and one, Ijudged, of tremendous strength of arm and body. The indictment broughtagainst him was in these words:
"James Ireton, you are accused of devilishly and perniciously abstainingfrom coming to church to hear divine service, and for being a commonupholder of several unlawful meetings and conventicles, to the greatdisturbance and distraction of the good subjects of this kingdom, andcontrary to the laws of our sovereign lord the king."
The man replied that he did indeed attend a meeting of godly people forpraise and prayer, but that it was held in an outhouse nearly half amile from the king's highway, and that there was not a dwelling-housenear it.
"But do you know that such a meeting is unlawful?" cried the magistrate.
"I find nothing in the Word of God against it," replied the man.
"I do not mean the Word of God, of which you are ignorant," replied themagistrate, "but the laws of this country."
"I always put the laws of God above every law," replied the blacksmith,"and there I do find I am commanded to continue in prayer."
"Ay, and the law hath provided the church for you to pray. Do you go tochurch?"
"Ay, I do go to the Church of God," replied the man.
"What church?"
"A church composed of those who meet together in Christ's name," repliedhe.
"Ah, some conventicle! That is no church. How can you call that achurch?"
"I have Christ's own words," replied the man. "He said, 'Wheresoever twoor three are gathered together in My name, there am I in the midst ofthem,' and it is Christ that makes the church."
"I cannot allow this blasphemy," said the justice. "The question is, doyou go to the parish church?"
"No," replied Ireton, "I do not."
"And why?"
"Because I do not find the Scriptures faithfully proclaimed, becausemany Romish practices are performed, and because I get no good to mysoul."
"Thou art a naughty, law-breaking varlet!" said the justice.
"Nay, that is not so. In truth there was a time when this was true ofme; for I was a drunkard, and I treated my wife with great cruelty. Forthis I was not punished; but now that I am trying to obey God's word,and to lead others to holy life, I am e'en haled before you."
"But didst thou go to church when thou wert what thou sayst?"
"Ay, that I did. I was one of the bell-ringers at the parish church."
"Well now, wilt thou not promise to be a decent fellow again? A man whocan ring one of a peal of bells is a useful man, and no man can say tothe contrary. Now, why not be as you were before? I don't mean as to thewife-beating, that is, of course, wrong. But can't you be religious inthe right way, go to church regularly, and drink your ale inmoderation?"
"Why," said the man, "I knew nought about religion till I heard JohnBunyan preach; then I realized that I had been a sinner, and that I mustrepent of my sins, and accept Christ as my Saviour. On doing this such ajoy and peace came into my heart, that I longed to tell others of thegood news which had come to me."
"Ay, but how can an ignorant man like thee be fit to preach?"
"I have often thought of that myself, and truly I have tried not to. ButI have felt what I think the Apostle must have felt when he said, 'Woeis me if I preach not the Gospel.' Besides, God hath blessed mewonderfully, and hath used me in leading many to conversion."
After this many other questions were asked, which the man answered in alike fashion.
"Now," said Sir Henry Chester presently, "it hath been proved that thouhast been a naughty, law-breaking varlet. Thou hast devilishly andperniciously abstained from coming to church, and thou hast been guiltyof the sin of preaching. For either of these things thou dost deserve tobe punished with great severity. But we are inclined to be merciful. Ifthou wilt promise to go to church as the law dictates, and never topreach again, thou shalt be forgiven. Come now, that is a great mercy."
"Nay," said the man, "I cannot promise, for I must e'en obey God ratherthan man."
After this he was threatened with many cruel threats, but beingobstinate he was committed to gaol as though he were an ordinary felon.No sooner was the man dragged away by the constables than I left thecourt house, partly because I did not see how I could make anydiscoveries as to the whereabouts of Constance while there, andsecondly, because I thought I saw some of the magistrates castingsuspicious eyes upon me.
During the rest of the day I cast my mind about as to what I should do.I discovered that the constables were on the look-out for Constance, andthat the whole countryside was being watched, so that if she in any wayshewed herself, she should be arrested and thrown into prison. But inthis matter many opinions were afloat. Some had it that she had neverreturned to Bedford at all, but had escaped to Holland directly afterher father's death, whither her sister Dorcas had gone. Others, again,held with Peter Blewitt the constable, that it was she who helped manyof the Dissenters in their trouble, and, indeed, kept them fromstarving. This, however, seemed impossible, for how could she, w
ho mustkeep in constant hiding, be able to help others?
As far as I could judge, no man seemed to recognize me. My longimprisonment had much changed my appearance, while my beard acted almostlike a mask. In order to test this, I even went so far as to have a chatwith the landlord of _The Bull_, and so little was he aware as to who Iwas that I laughed at the fears I had about the magistrates eyeing mewith suspicion.
I dared not go to Goodlands, however. I knew that the place was beingwatched, and thus, if Constance were there--as, remembering what she hadtold me long months before, I believed she was--I should only increaseher danger. And yet I longed to see her more than words could say, formy long imprisonment had not lessened my love. It had increased it. Sothat the thought that she was only a few miles from me tempted me todiscard all prudence, and boldly seek her out. But this I did not do,for true love doth not seek its own pleasure, but the welfare of the onewho is beloved. I therefore possessed my soul in patience until night,when I made my way to the cottage where the expelled minister told me hehad taken up his abode. I remembered the words that had passed betweenthe husband and the wife when I had seen them on the highway nearBedford, and I believed that it was Constance whom the woman had saidhad promised to come to them that night.
It must have been nine by the clock as I reached the stile which the manhad pointed out to me, but although it was dark, I had but littledifficulty in following the path. In truth it seemed like a much troddenroad, and one on which many people had lately passed. I had not gone farbefore I saw a tiny twinkling light, after which I heard the sound ofvoices singing.
A few minutes later I was so close that I could hear what they weresinging. I did not think that the voices were very musical;nevertheless, there was a plaintiveness of tone mingled with triumphthat I could not help being moved.
"_The Lord is my light and my salvation: whom shall I fear?_
"_The Lord is the strength of my life: of whom shall I be afraid?_
"_When evildoers come upon me to eat up my flesh, even mine adversariesand my foes, they stumbled and fell._
"_Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear._
"_One thing have I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after._
"_That I may dwell in the House of the Lord all the days of my life._"
After this I heard the voice of John Day, the man who had been theminister of the parish church of St. Martin's.
"My friends," he said, "I feel constrained to speak a few words ofcomfort and hope to you, for truly the Lord hath done great things forus, whereof we are glad; but before I try to expound God's holy word,let us ask Him for wisdom and light, so that I may speak his words withwisdom, rightly dividing the word of truth."
"It will be well that one of us do go out and watch," said a voice, "forthe magistrates be very bitter against us. John Ireton and many othershave been sent to gaol to-day, and I do hear that orders have been givento watch some of us, and especial mention hath been made of you, MasterDay."
"I do not fear," said the old clergyman; "the Lord hath called me topreach the Gospel, and I may not hold my peace. Still, seeing we live inevil times, it may be as you say, therefore do one of you watch while weseek to eat of the Bread of Life."
I had come up to the cottage unheeded by the worshippers. As far as Icould gather there were not a dozen in all, who were evidently labouringmen and their wives. Standing where I was, however, I could see thecottage plainly, and I noticed that one of their number went out, andstood at a place where he could take note of any that might come.
After Master John Day had prayed, he began to speak to the people. Firstof all he expounded the Scriptures to them, and then he sought toenforce his teaching concerning God's providence by example. "You know,my friends," he said, "how I have been put to great straits for bread.You have helped me all you could; but you have had barely enough foryour own necessities. I have tried to obtain service at the hands ofthose who employ labour, but few would hire me. In truth, I should havestarved, but for one dear friend who shall be nameless. Then the timecame when even she was powerless, and yesterday I and my little oneswould have starved had not the Lord sent a stranger along the road, whohath given us enough for our necessities for several days. Shall wedoubt the Lord, dear friends? It is true we have been driven from ourhome, and we have even been forbidden to take religious exercisestogether, yet hath the Lord watched over us, ay, and He will watch overus, even to the last."
He had scarcely said these words than the man who had been appointed asa watcher rushed in.
"The constables!" he cried; "they will be here in a minute more."
"Shall we stay and meet them boldly?" said Master John Day.
"What good will it do?" one cried. "I know that the Quakers take no noteof them, but we be wiser than they. We must e'en disband."
"Nay, but I will gladly suffer for Christ's sake," said John Day."Still, I must remember my wife, and my dear little ones."
Upon this the light was extinguished, and a few seconds later I heardhurrying footsteps.
I waited hidden behind a thick bush, and presently I heard stealthyfootsteps approaching.
"All is dark," said a voice.
"Ay, but they have been here."
"Yes, but they are gone. Let us go in and see if Master Day is there."
"That will be no use. If we go in it will make them more watchfulagainst another time."
"Perhaps that is so. We have missed them this time, but we will pounceupon them unawares another time. You know that Parson Gilloch told us weshould have a crown apiece and a gallon of strong ale if we caughtMaster Day in the act of preaching."
"Ay, that is so. Well, we had better go for the night."
I heard them creep away as silently as they had come, and in a few moreminutes all was still. The worshippers had evidently gone to theirhomes, and not a sound could I hear disturbing the stillness of thenight.
Still I waited. I felt that here was my opportunity of finding out thetruth concerning the whereabouts of Constance, and I determined toremain where I was until the minister's fears were stilled, after whichI would try and have speech with him.
After a time a light twinkled in the cottage again, and I heard the lowmurmur of voices. The night had become perfectly still, and not a breathof wind moved the bare tree branches. I thought I smelt the breath ofspring in the air, the thought of which gave me joy, I knew not why.
"She cannot be coming here to-night," I thought. "It is now wellnighmidnight, and this place must be at least three miles from Goodlands,even although there be a short cut across the fields." This thought mademy heart cold, and yet I stayed there in hope, my eyes hungering for asight of her face. How long I stayed I know not, but presently I thoughtthe voices grew louder, whereupon I crept silently forward, until Icould hear more plainly.
"It is because of the goodness of God that you have come to me, mychild," the old clergyman said, "and we thank you beyond all telling.Yet do I wish you had not come. The way is long to your hiding place,and the night is dark. Besides, God hath ministered to our necessities.He hath sent a friend to help us."
"Who hath he sent?"
My heart almost stood still! It was the voice of Constance which Iheard, and in an instant it seemed to me as though my full strength hadcome back again. My weakness I felt not, and my weariness had passedaway, even as snow ceases to be when the hot sun shines.
"It was yester eve," said the old clergyman. "I was in despair because Ihad no food for my wife and children, and because I was afraid harm hadhappened to them. While I was waiting for them, a youth came alongriding a raven black horse. We fell to speaking together, and the Lordtouched his heart."
"Did he tell you his name?"
"Ay, my child, and although you have told me nought, I cannot helpbelieving that his coming will be good news to you. His name is RolandRashcliffe."
"Tell me more! Tell me more!"
After that I could not stay outside a moment longer, for she spoke
witheagerness and joy. I called to mind the look she had given me when westood together in the presence of the king, and I felt that she had notforgotten me.
Without ado I opened the door, and stood before them. At first I thoughtshe looked afraid, and this made me say what I should not have dared tosay otherwise.
"Constance," I said, "I could not come before, but I have loved you allthe time, even as I told you I should."
Her eyes were lifted to mine as if in great wonder, then I saw the tearswell up in them; but they were not tears of sorrow.
"You are not angry with me, are you?" I said.
And then she burst out sobbing upon my shoulder, while I, unheedingMaster Day and his wife, strained her to my heart.
We did not stay long at the cottage. I gave Master Day enough money tomeet his needs for some time to come, and then Constance and I walked toGoodlands together along the silent, lonely road whither she had come.
I will not write of all the things we spoke about during that longjourney. Enough to say that she had escaped from the king's palace as myfather had told me, and had made her way to Goodlands, which she enteredby a secret known only to herself, and to the faithful farmer whooccupied the kitchen part of the house and looked after the Goodlandsestate. Here she was able to remain unmolested. The entrance to thehouse, she told me, was by a secret underground passage, the opening ofwhich could only be discovered with great difficulty. Here, moreover,were rooms in which her forefathers had been hidden in the days of QueenMary, the secret of which had defied all searchers. It was here she hadhidden Father Solomon, whose real name was John Walters, and her sisterDorcas, and it was from here she had sent her sister to Holland to meether husband.
She told me, moreover, that this old man, who claimed to be the fatherof Lucy Walters, had been driven wellnigh mad because of his daughter'sshame, and that he had left his wife because she encouraged her child inher evil ways. He had, moreover, become friendly with Sir CharlesDenman, who had given him the right to live in the lonely house. Foryears he had been a student of the occult sciences, in order, he said,to find out the hiding place of the marriage contract between hisdaughter and the king, and it was here that her sister came, after she,in a fit of religious frenzy, had sought to take the life of GeneralMonk.
Constance told me, moreover, that she had been taught to fear this oldman; yet did she visit him for her sister's sake, on the night when wefirst met. Whether the marriage contract was genuine, or whether it hadbeen forged by the old man or no, she could not tell, neither did sheknow where he was now. Directly after her sister had escaped to Holland,he also had disappeared; but before he went he declared that he wouldyet see his daughter owned as the king's wife, while her son should beking of England.
But it was not these things which troubled me as I walked by Constance'sside that dark night in March. I was thinking rather of my great lovefor her, and how I could take her from the hands of her enemies. For shewas now all alone in the world. Her father was dead, hanged by the king,while her sister had rejoined her husband, a man whom Constance regardedwith fear and anger.
Although she had stayed long at Goodlands, she felt that her stay theremust soon come to an end. She could not live much longer under suchcircumstances, especially as she felt sure that she was suspected ofbeing hidden in the house.
Of the love we confessed one to another I will not write, for that isnot the affair of those who may read this; but that she did love me Idid not doubt. How could I doubt it when for me she had defied the king?How could I doubt after the way she had sobbed out her love for me inMaster John Day's cottage?
Thus it was that the long walk was to me a joy beyond words. At last mylove was by my side, and so I did not dread the dark clouds that hung inour sky, I did not fear the enemies which beset her on every hand.
"There is nought for us to fear," I said to her, for at that momenteverything seemed possible to me.
"Oh, I have prayed for this so long, so earnestly," she said. "Thatnight when we stood before the king, I wanted to tell you what was in myheart, but--but--" and then she told me again what my heart washungering to hear.
"We cannot stay in England," I said, "but we can go across the seas, andmake a home in New England, even as your Puritan forefathers did. Willyou, Constance?"
"Whither thou goest, I will go," she said; "where thou lodgest, I willlodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God."
Then I thanked God with a full heart for all His great goodness to me,and there and then we arranged that I should come for her the followingnight, and that we should ride together to my father's house beforesetting out to find a new home.
"Good-night, my beloved," I said as we parted; "we will trust, and notbe afraid."
"Come as early as you dare," she said shyly, "for in truth I feel I canno longer live without you."
And this I promised with a right good will and with a light heart, for Idid not then know what would soon be revealed to me.
CHAPTER XXX
HOW I LEFT MY OLD HOME.
Excited as I was, I found my way back to the inn and slept like a child.No ill dreams disturbed my rest, nor did a shadow of fear enter myheart. When I awoke next day the clouds had rolled away, the sun shonein a clear sky, and there was indeed a smell of spring in the air. Iwould have given much to have paid a visit to the gaol to see JohnBunyan, but this I dared not do, for I knew that suspicion would fastenupon me if I made the attempt. So, although I remembered his formerspeech with much kindness, my love's safety forbade my going to him, andhear him tell me the wondrous story of how he had, as he said, "foundthe King in His beauty." In truth, throughout the whole day I keptindoors, not shewing myself to any man, and simply telling mine hostthat I must leave him that night at eight o'clock, in order to dobusiness elsewhere. I had no need to seek a steed for Constance, for theold farmer who lived at Goodlands was able to obtain one, so I e'en satin the inn dreaming of the glad time to come when my Jove and I wouldride side by side towards my father's house.
When night came on, however, that happened which caused me to go intothe town, and it was well I did so, else had all things happeneddifferent to me. Not that I meant to leave the place until I mountedBlack Ben to ride to Goodlands, but as I looked out of the window, I sawPeter Blewitt hurrying by with an eager look in his eyes as though hewere bent on a matter of importance.
"Ah, whither go you, Peter?" I heard mine host say.
"That is my business, Jonathan Coad," was the reply.
"Thy business," laughed the other.
"Ay, mine, and such as I will not tell the landlord of the _GeneralFairfax_."
"Ah, ah!" laughed the landlord, "as though thou ever had business in thylife. Thou could'st never catch a thief even if he took thine ownhorse."
"Ah, could I not?" said Peter.
"Why, no," said the landlord. "If thou could'st have caught aught, thouwouldst have caught Mistress Constance Leslie. That would have meant ahundred pounds, and yet thou did'st e'en let her slip through thyfingers."
"Wait a bit!" said Peter.
"Ay, wait till doomsday, and thou will never catch her."
"Wait till to-morrow noon," said Peter, and he hurried away.
Now it was this which caused me to go out into the town, and to followPeter as closely as I could without him seeing me.
The night had now come on, perchance it was turned six o'clock, but itwas not so dark but I saw Master Sturgeon coming towards the constable.
"Ah, Peter, whither goest thou?"
"To the chief constable, Master Sturgeon."
"Ah, why?"
I did not catch his answer to this; nevertheless, I knew it to be ofimport by the look on the gaoler's face.
"Good, Peter," I heard him say presently, "then I shall have her underlock and key again this very night, and I'll warrant young MasterRashcliffe shall not get her out a second time."
"Ay, we know where she is hidden, and we must go to her without aminute's delay. I must make haste,
for if news were to reach her atGoodlands, then should I lose my hundred pounds."
With this Peter hurried on, while I fled back to the inn with the speedof the wind. In less time than it takes me to tell, I had paid my count,and had saddled Black Ben, and without saying a word to mine host, Irode to Goodlands as fast as my horse could carry me.
When I reached there all was dark. Not one sound could I hear, no onecould I see. I hammered again and again at the door, but no mananswered, until, as I remembered how rapidly the time was flying, I waswellnigh in a frenzy.
"Come, farmer, come!" I cried; "it's a matter of life and death!" Butstill I got no answer, save that I thought I heard a low, mocking laugh.
I knew not what to do, for it was full two hours before I had arrangedto meet Constance. Neither did I mean to go into the house at all. Shehad told me that her horse should be waiting at the door saddled, andthat we could ride away together. But no horse was there, neither wasthere, as I have said, any sign of life; and when I remembered that theconstables might be there at any moment, I was in danger of losing mysenses.
Thus I did what under any other circumstances might have placed my lifein great danger, for I called to her aloud by name, and if watchers hadbeen near they would have known that she was there.
"Constance, my love!" I cried, "it is Roland!" and then, quick as aflash of light, I felt that she was coming towards me.
"Roland, is it you?"
"Ay, it is. Quick! Quick!"
"Why, what is the matter?"
"The constables have discovered your hiding-place--they are even on theway now. Where is your horse?"
"In the stable. It will take me ten minutes to saddle him." It was thefarmer who spoke.
"Then saddle him," I cried. "As for you, Constance, will you makeyourself ready for the journey?"
"Ay, I have been ready for a full hour," she said, and I noticed thatshe wore close-fitting garments, but in the dimness of the light I couldnot see her as plainly as I desired.
At that moment I heard the sound of horses' hoofs. Evidently they hadwasted not a moment in coming hither.
"It is they!" I cried. "Hark! they be coming towards us!"
My love spoke not a word; but she came close to me as if to gainstrength from my strength.
"We dare not wait for your horse to be brought," I said.
"Tell me what to do, and I will do it," she whispered. "Do not be afraidfor me, Roland."
With one leap I was on Black Ben's back, and a second later she satbefore me.
"Who goes there?"
I did not speak, but touched Black Ben's side with my spur. The bravehorse leaped forward, and then stopped as if held by a strong hand.
"'Tis she, 'tis she! Help! help!"
"Forward, Ben!" I said, and the horse gave a great leap, leaving himselfat liberty. But this was only for a moment. Another man had leapedforward, and brought the horse to his haunches.
"We've got them!" he cried. "Help! help!"
My sword hand was by this time free, and I brought my weapon down uponthe man's head. The blade turned in my hand, or I must have cleaved hisskull with the blow. But I think he must have worn a steel cap, foralthough he fell, I knew I had not killed him.
"Let me guide your horse, then will your right arm be free, I know theroad," cried Constance; and she took the reins, heedless of the cries weheard, and a few seconds later we were in a lonely lane.
"Towards London!" I said, as she hesitated which way to turn, and then abullet passed so close to me that it e'en shaved my ear, and to this daymy right ear is not perfect as my left ear is.
It was no longer a fight. It had now become a race. We had much againstus, seeing we both sat on one horse; but we had much for us also, seeingthat Black Ben had the strength of two horses, and bore us as though wewere feathers. Nevertheless, I knew we could not ride to my father'shouse in this fashion, and even then I remember wondering how I was toget a steed for my love.
I quickly discovered that there were two horses following us, butwhether they gained on us I could not tell; sometimes I thought theydid, and again I fancied otherwise; but, in any case, we had happenedupon a dangerous time, for more than once I heard a pistol shot, evenalthough neither of us was harmed.
"They are gaining on us," I said presently.
"But only one, Roland."
"That is true," I said with a laugh, for now that I had my love by myside I cared not one whit for danger; neither did I feel my weakness, asI had feared I should. In truth, my strength had come back to mewondrously.
Black Ben dashed on at a fine speed as soon as we gained the highway,but I knew that if our pursuers were well mounted we must in time beovertaken, for I was never a light man, and must have weighed nine scorepounds even then; while Constance, as I have before stated, was noslender slip of a maid, but well grown and finely proportioned. Howevergood a horse may be, he cannot carry two as easily as one, and thus, asone of our pursuers gained upon us, I had to think of what we were todo.
"I have a plan," I said presently.
"What, Roland?"
"We will presently let the man close behind us come up to us. I willunhorse him, and then you shall take his place. There is only one thingagainst that."
"What is that?" she asked eagerly.
"Only that a man's saddle will be on the nag's back, and it will lookstrange for a maid to be riding on a man's saddle."
I felt her laughing as I spoke, at the which I wondered.
"Why do you laugh?" I asked.
"Because I am afraid I should look more strange on a woman's saddle thana man's," she replied.
At this I laughed too, for now I realized that she was dressed in theattire of a gallant, the which I had not noticed at first, seeing thatshe wore a long cloak.
She did not seem to have a vestige of fear, and I knew by the tone ofher voice that her heart was light, even in spite of all she had passedthrough.
Presently we came to a lonely spot, and then I allowed the man who hadbeen shouting at us to stop to overtake us.
It was but the work of a moment. The man was no swordsman, neither washe prepared for my attack. In truth, I believe he expected to find onlyConstance, so heedlessly did he ride up. As it was, he fell to theground stunned and helpless.
In less time than it takes me to tell, Constance had leaped on to theman's horse, and we were soon galloping side by side towards London.
"They cannot catch us now," she laughed.
"Why do you think so?"
"Because I have the better horse. The man who rode this left the otherfar behind."
After this we spoke not for some time, but rode steadily on.
"You are not afraid, Constance?"
"Not with you," she replied, and my heart burned with joy at the soundof her voice.
Now and then as we passed into an open space I saw that the feather ofher hat waved in the wind, and that the cloak slipped from hershoulders, revealing the gay attire she wore.
"I'faith, you make a pretty man," I said.
"Do I ride like one, Roland?"
"Ay, and you ride like one, too. In truth, so well do you ride that Iwould e'en like a kiss to assure myself that thou art not some gaygallant who hath come riding with me."
Again we dashed on, until when morning came we had wellnigh reachedBarnet, and here I deemed it well to turn aside and make my way throughthe village of Enfield instead of keeping nearer London. Here we stoppedand breakfasted while the horses were fed and groomed. No one castsuspicious eyes upon us, for in truth Constance might have passed as myyounger brother, so bravely did she carry herself. Not even the maid ofwhom Will Shakespeare wrote in the play _As You Like It_, looked half assweet and charming as she.
"I would call you Rosalind, only Will's heroine was not half so fair asthee, neither was she half so brave," I laughed as we breakfastedtogether in the inn.
I saw her lip quiver at this, and the tears well up into her eyes; andthen I felt that, although she was as brave as
any man--nay, braver thanany man I ever knew--she was still a woman. I saw that, while she wasfearless and bold in the face of danger, she became trembling andfearful now that the danger was over. Perchance, too, she rememberedher father's fate, and thought of her own lonely condition. But that wasonly for a minute, for her eyes had neither tears nor sorrow in them asthey looked up into mine and told me of her love.
By noon we had reached my father's house. I did not come in at the lodgegate, but entered by an unfrequented way. It was by a wicket gate whichled through a shrubbery and up to a postern door, a door which wasseldom opened in the old days when I lived at home.
My heart seemed ready to burst as I came in sight of the house, for itwas now nearly two years since I had seen it; and after all, there is nospot on earth which affects a man as much as the place where he was bornand reared.
"I trust my father is at home," I said to Constance.
"Ay, he is, and here to greet thee, Roland!"
I turned and saw my father standing by my side.
"I have been expecting thee, Roland."
I looked at him in astonishment.
"Ay, I knew what thou would'st do. Art thou not my own son? That is whyI have been waiting and watching these last twenty-four hours. But comein," and he opened the postern door. "Fasten the horses here," he said."I will give orders concerning them."
He led the way into the room, where I had had the interview withKatharine Harcomb two years before, while I watched his face closely,wondering what he would think of Constance.
"Remove your hats and cloaks, will you?" he said.
This we did, and I saw him looking at my love all the time.
Presently, after gazing at her steadily for some moments, his lipsmoved.
"I do not wonder," he said. "He could not help it. How could he help it?Had I been the lad, I should have done just the same."
Neither of us spoke, for I do not think either of us knew what was inhis mind.
"Dost thou love this boy--my boy Roland?" he asked of Constancepresently.
Her face became rosy red, and her eyes gleamed brightly.
"Ay, I do," she said.
"Then wilt thou kiss me, my child?"
Had it been any other man on earth I should have been jealous, but myheart rejoiced as I saw him kiss my love, for I knew what he thought ofher.
After that he asked us many questions, and when we had answered them hesaid sadly, "I have made all provisions."
"What provisions?" I asked.
"Even for thy wedding, and for thy departure," he said sadly. "To-morrowmorn thou shalt go to the old church and be wedded, and then thou muste'en ride to Gravesend and take passage in the vessel there. Perchance,when another king cometh, thou canst return again, but not until then."
Neither of us asked him what he meant, for we knew. It grieved us thatwe should have to leave my old home, but it had to be, and yet were ourhearts filled with a joy that passeth understanding.
The next night, as we sailed down the river past the Kentish coast, westood side by side and hand in hand. We were man and wife.
"Are you sad, Constance?"
"Nay, Roland. The morning will come. Nay, morning is in my heart now,but morning will also come for our country. For myself I desirenought--nought, I have everything."
In truth so had I, and yet I longed to bring my wife back to the home ofmy boyhood.
Of how we fared in the new land I will say nothing here. Neither will Itell by what means we at length returned to England again, or describethe joy of our children as they played amongst the gardens of my oldhome, while my father, a white-haired man, watched them tenderly. Thatis a part of another story which, please God, I may tell some day.
THE END
Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London.
* * * * *
_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._
ALL MEN ARE LIARS FIELDS OF FAIR RENOWN ISHMAEL PENGELLY THE STORY OF ANDREW FAIRFAX JABEZ EASTERBROOK THE MONK OF MAR-SARA ZILLAH. A ROMANCE WEAPONS OF MYSTERY MISTRESS NANCY MOLESWORTH THE BIRTHRIGHT: A ROMANCE AND SHALL TRELAWNEY DIE? THE SCARLET WOMAN THE MADNESS OF DAVID DARING LEST WE FORGET O'ER MOOR AND FEN GREATER LOVE ESAU FOLLOW THE GLEAM A FLAME OF FIRE.
* * * * *
SOME PRESS OPINIONS
of
Joseph Hocking's Novels
(UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME).
THE COMING OF THE KING.
Illustrated by GRENVILLE MANTON.
The first stages of Nonconformity supply the theme of Mr. HOCKING'Slatest book, "The Coming of the King" is an impressive story whichpossesses a real value as a faithful study of one of the most importantepochs in religious history.
ESAU.
Illustrated by BERTHA NEWCOMBE.
"Remarkable for the dramatic power with which the scenes are drawn andthe intense human interest which Mr. Hocking has woven about hischaracters. 'Esau' is sure to be one of the novels of the season."--TheOutlook.
"A brilliant, exciting narrative by a writer who has never penned a dullpage."--The British Weekly.
"The story is excellent, with no lack of dramatic situations; and thecharacters, whether of Cornish folk or Spaniards, are drawn withconsiderable skill."--The Birmingham Post.
GREATER LOVE.
Illustrated by GORDON BROWNE.
"An excellent story, in which the reader will soon find himselfenthralled, the author skilfully compelling his close attention. Thismust take rank as one of the best and most interesting of the author'sbooks."--The Birmingham Post.
"Though of a totally different character from 'Lest We Forget,' Mr.Hocking's latest story is entitled to take rank along with that fineromance. The story arrests the attention from the first chapters, andsoon becomes highly dramatic."--The Newcastle Chronicle.
LEST WE FORGET.
Illustrated by J. BARNARD DAVIS.
"His story is quite as good as any we have read of the Stanley Weyman'sschool, and presents an excellent picture of the exciting times ofGardiner and Bonner."--Public Opinion.
"A striking, highly dramatic story. Mr. Hocking has written a very finehistorical novel, full of the fire and dash of youth and love."--SundaySpecial.
THE PURPLE ROBE.
Illustrated by J. BARNARD DAVIS.
"Mr. Hocking's most interesting romance. It is exceedingly clever, andexcites the reader's interest and brings out the powerful nature of theclever young minister. This most engrossing book challenges comparisonwith the brilliance of Lothair. Mr. Hocking has one main fact alwaysbefore him in writing his books--to interest his readers; and hecertainly succeeds admirably in doing so."--The Queen.
THE SCARLET WOMAN.
With Eight Full-page Illustrations by SYDNEY COWELL.
"We know of no novel by Mr Hocking that we have liked so much, and wehave liked many. Powerful and human from beginning to end, and throbbingwith the moral healthiness of a work by a writer who, while he interestsmore than many who merely interest, has the higher purpose ofinculcating truths that lead to healthiness of life and humanendeavour."--Weekly Dispatch.
"The story goes with a swing. The struggle between nature and religioustraining is skilfully described, and the plot is carried from one vividincident to another."--Christian World.
"This is Mr. Hocking's strongest and best book. We advise every one toread it. The plot is simple, compact and strenuous; the writingpowerful. It brings out sharply the real character of the typicalJesuit, his training, motives, limitations, aims."--Methodist Recorder.
ALL MEN ARE LIARS.
With Frontispiece and Vignette by GORDON BROWNE.
It is no exaggeration to say that the publication of this unique bookcreated a sensation. It was so strenuously in earnest, so pitiless inits exposure of the effects of pessimism, and so realistic in itspicture of the dark side of London life, that thousands who had not readany previous work of M
r. HOCKING'S read it and discussed it in thepress, in the class-room and in private. The striking title, the sombrestrength of the writing, but above all the correctness and purity of thepurpose, combined to render "All Men are Liars" one of the mostremarkable works of the day.
"This is a notable book. Thoughtful people will be fascinated by itsactuality, its fearlessness, and the insight it gives into the influenceof modern thought and literature upon the minds and morals of our mostpromising manhood."--Christian World.
"A striking book.... It is strong and earnest and vigorous; it showsknowledge of the lower class, and impatience and contempt of shams ofall sorts."--Standard.
"We are in the midst of real life, with a record at all times eloquentand not infrequently brilliant."--Literary World.
ISHMAEL PENGELLY: an Outcast.
With Frontispiece and Vignette by W. S. STACEY.
From the point of view of lurid power and breathless interest one of thevery strongest of all Mr. HOCKING'S books. The wild Cornish background,the strength of the character-drawing, the atmosphere of tragedy,combine to make it a work of singular originality.
"As a story this book is a splendid piece of writing, every detail isinteresting, and the situations it creates are novel andstriking."--Record.
"A remarkable novel.... The plot of the story is ingenious, the mannerof its telling essentially dramatic, the character-drawing excellent andconsistent."--Christian World.
"The characters are admirably drawn. An extremely vigorous, healthfuland interesting tale."--Academy.
"The book is to be recommended for the dramatic effectiveness of some ofthe scenes. The wild, half-mad woman is always picturesque wherever sheappears, and the rare self-repression of her son is admirablydone."--Athenaeum.
THE STORY OF ANDREW FAIRFAX.
With Frontispiece and Vignette by GEORGE HUTCHINSON.
"Andrew Fairfax" is undoubtedly the story by which Mr. HOCKING came intohis own. It placed him at once in the front rank of popular novelists,and by many competent critics it is considered to be by far his bestbook. It has been compared favourably with the best novels of Mr THOMASHARDY, but the class of realism to which many readers take objection,and that is connected with the name of Mr. Hardy, is never to be foundin Mr Hocking's works. A purer, more wholesome, and more manly book than"Andrew Fairfax" it would be hard to write.
"Rustic scenes and characters are drawn with free, broad touches,without Mr. Buchanan's artificiality, and, if we may venture to say it,with more realism than Mr. Hardy's country pictures."--ManchesterExaminer.
"Beautifully told. There are few books better adapted to widen the mindand discipline the judgment than this noble story."--Liverpool Mercury.
"Few stories by later-day novelists have interested us so keenly. Abrilliant story, rich in sparkling incident and clever charactersketches."--Christian Age.
THE BIRTHRIGHT.
With Three Full-page Illustrations by HAROLD PIFFARD.
"This volume proves beyond all doubt that Mr. Hocking has mastered theart of the historical romancist. 'The Birthright' is, in its way, quiteas well constructed, as well written, and as full of incident as anystory that has come from the pen of Mr. Conan Doyle or Mr StanleyWeyman."--Spectator.
"For an historical romance to hold a weary reviewer, to hold him at thistime of day, and to interest him to the end, is in itself a completetestimony to the power and excellence of that story. We confess that weread Mr Hocking's book at a sitting; not because we had any leisure forthe task, but simply because the book compelled us.... We hold ourbreath as each chapter draws to an end, yet cannot stop there, for therace is unflagging. We congratulate Mr Hocking upon the book, for it isa very great advance upon anything he has done."--Daily Chronicle.
MISTRESS NANCY MOLESWORTH.
With Six Full-page Illustrations by F. H. TOWNSEND.
"'Mistress Nancy Molesworth' is as charming a story of the kind as couldbe wished, and it excels in literary workmanship as well as inimaginative vigour and daring invention.... It would hardly be possibleto tell a story of its kind better, or to leave the reader betterpleased at the end."--Scotsman.
FIELDS OF FAIR RENOWN.
With Frontispiece and Vignette by J. BARNARD DAVIS.
This striking story has all the fine qualities which have made MrHOCKING'S novels so popular with his huge circle of readers. In none ofhis books has he drawn finer pictures of Cornish life, or told a sweeterlove-tale. But this particular story has a peculiar interest of its own,telling, as it does, of the literary beginnings of an author whoafterwards became one of the most popular novelists of the day. Everyone interested in literature--every one who wishes to know something ofthe wire-pulling which is too often at work m the literary world--shouldread this remarkable story.
"Mr. Joseph Hocking's 'Fields of Fair Renown' is a novel with a purpose,and the theme is worked out with a good deal of force and effectivepower ... it is both interesting and powerful."--Scotsman.
"Mr Hocking has produced a work which his readers of all classes willappreciate.... There are exhibited some of the most beautiful aspects ofdisposition."--Dundee Advertiser.
AND SHALL TRELAWNEY DIE?
With Three Full-page Illustrations by LANCELOT SPEED.
"We can strongly recommend both stories as healthy and hearty tales,sensational but not incredible."--British Weekly.
"An engaging and fascinating romance. The reader puts the story downwith a sigh, and wishes there were more of these breezy Cornish uplands,for Mr. Joseph Hocking's easy style of narrative does not soontire."--Weekly Sun.
JABEZ EASTERBROOK.
With Frontispiece and Vignette by W. S. STACEY.
"Jabez Easterbrook" is one of the very few "religious novels" which arealso strikingly interesting as stories, quite apart from their religiouspurpose. The life of the Wesleyan Minister has seldom been sopainstakingly or so sympathetically pictured.
"Real strength is shown in the sketches, of which that of Brother Bowmanis most prominent. In its way it is delightful."--Rock.
"A book that can be read with interest and with profit. A clever tale,cleverly told."--Record.
THE WEAPONS OF MYSTERY.
With Frontispiece
"Weapons of Mystery" is a singularly powerful story of occult influencesand of their execution for evil purposes. Like all Mr HOCKING'S novels,"Weapons of Mystery" has an underlying religious and moral purpose, butmerely as a story, and quite apart from the purpose which was in themind of the author, the tale has a curious fascination for the reader.The cleverly conceived plot, and the strange experience of the hero andheroine make "Weapons of Mystery" a story which it is not easy to putdown when once commenced.
ZILLAH: A Romance.
With Frontispiece.
"Zillah" is also a novel with a purpose--in fact--with two purposes. Itsfirst purpose is to tell a thoroughly interesting story in a thoroughlyinteresting way, and in that it certainly succeeds. Its second purposeis to deal fairly but fearlessly with certain theories about the AfterLife and the Spirit World which are just now very much agitating theminds of religious thinkers. Every one interested in Clairvoyance,Hypnotism and Spiritualism, should read this strikingly just butfearlessly outspoken novel.
"The drawing of some of the characters indicates the possession by MrHocking of a considerable gift of humour. The contents of his bookindicate that he takes a genuine interest in the deeper problems of theday."--Spectator.
THE MONK OF MAR-SABA.
With Frontispiece and Vignette by WALTER S. STACEY.
A very beautiful and human story, the scene of which is laid in the HolyLand, which Mr. HOCKING visited personally before writing the tale.
"Great power and thrilling interest.... The scenery of the Holy Land hasrarely been so vividly described as in this charming book of MrHocking's."--Star.
"The author has turned his visit to Palestine to good account.... Hisdescriptions of the wild scenery of different parts of the Holy Land areboth vigorous and g
raphic, and the stories themselves areinteresting."--Manchester Guardian.
"Powerfully written."--Daily Telegraph.
"Mr. Hocking has undoubtedly the power of telling a stirring incidentwell, and he gives one the impression of being pervaded by moralearnestness."--Spectator.
LONDON: WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED.
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