The Children of the New Forest by Frederick Marryat (well read books .TXT) 📕

“I have heard so, sir.”

“Yes, and in truth; for never did any people strive more zealously to prevent the murder of the king—for murder it was—than my relative Ashley Cooper and myself—so much so, indeed, as to have incurred not only the suspicion but the ill-will of Cromwell, who, I fear, is now making rapid advances toward that absolute authority for which the king has suffered, and which he would now vest in his own person. I considered that our cause was just; and, had the power been left in the hands of those who would have exercised it with discretion and moderation, the king would even now have been on the throne, and the liberties of his subjects sacred; but it is easier to put a vast and powerful engine into motion than to stop it, and such has been the case in this unfortunate civil war. Thousands who took an active part against the king will, when the opportunity is ripe, retrace their steps; but I expect that we have much to suffer before that time will come. And now, Edward Armitage, I have said more to you than I have to any person breathing, except my own kinsman.”

“I thank you for your confidence, sir, which not only will not be betrayed, but will act as a warning to guide my future conduct.”

“I meant it should. Be no longer rash and careless in avowing your opinions. You can do no good to the cause, and may do yourself much harm. And now I must ask you another question, which I could not before the other people. You have surprised me by stating that Major Ratcliffe had a son here; there must be some mistake, or the boy must be an impostor. He had a daughter, an only daughter, as I have; but he never had a son.”

“It is a mistake that I fell into, sir, by finding a boy here, as I stated to you at the inquest; and I considered it to be a boy, until I brought her home, and she then discovered to my sisters that she was a girl dressed in boys’ clothes. I did not give that as explanation at the inquest, as it was not necessary.”

“I am right, then. I must relieve you of that charge, Edward Armitage; she shall be to me as a daughter, and I trust that you will agree with me, without any disparagement to your feelings, that my house will be a more fit residence for her than your cottage.”

“I will not prevent her going, if she wishes it, after your explanation and confidence, Mr. Heatherstone.”

“One thing more. As I said to you before, Edward Armitage, I believe many of these verderers, all of which have been selected from the army, are spies upon me: I must therefore be careful. You said that you were not aware that there were any papers?”

“I saw none, sir; but I suspect, from the many locked-up trunks and small boxes, that there may be; but when I went out with the others from the inquest, I dispatched my brother Humphrey to the cottage, advising him to open all the locks and to remove any papers which he might find.”

The intendant smiled.

“Well, if such is the case, we have only to go to your cottage and make an examination. We shall find nothing, and I shall have performed my duty. I was not aware that your brother was here. I presume it was the young man who walked with Oswald Partridge.”

“It was, sir.”

“By his appearance, I presume that he, also, was brought up at Arnwood?”

“He was, sir, as well as I,” replied Edward.

“Well, then, I have but one word more to say—recollect, if I appear harsh and severe in the presence of others, it is only assumed toward you, and not real. You understand that?”

“I do, sir, and beg you will exercise your discretion.”

The intendant then went out and said to the party, “It appears from what I can extract from this lad Armitage, that there are boxes which he removed to his cottage; we will go there to see what they may contain. It is now noon. Have you any refreshment to offer us in your cottage, young man, when we arrive?”

“I keep no hostelry, sir,” replied Edward, somewhat gloomily; “my own labor and my brother’s is sufficient for the support of my own family, but no more.”

“Let us move on; and two of you keep your eye upon that young man,” said the intendant aside.

They then proceeded through the wood; the intendant mounted his horse, and they set off for the cottage, where they arrived at about two o’clock in the afternoon.

CHAPTER XVII.

Humphrey came out as soon as he perceived the intendant and his party approaching, and whispered to Edward that all was safe. The intendant dismounted, and ordering every body but his clerk to wait outside, was ushered into the cottage by Edward. Alice, Edith, and Pablo were in the room; the two girls were not a little flushed and frightened by the unusual appearance of so large a party of strangers.

“These are my sisters, sir,” said Edward. “Where is Clara, Alice?”

“She is alarmed, and has gone into our bedroom.”

“I hope you are not alarmed at my presence,” said the intendant, looking earnestly at the two girls. “It is my duty which obliges me to pay this visit; but you have nothing to fear. Now, Edward Armitage, you must produce all the boxes and packages which you took from the cottage.”

“I will, sir,” replied Edward, “and here are the keys. Humphrey, do you and Pablo bring them out.”

The boxes were brought out, opened, and examined by the intendant and his clerk, but of course no papers were found in them.

“I must now send in two of my people to search the house,” said the intendant. “Had you not better go to the little girl, that she may not be frightened?”

“I will go to her,” said Alice.

Two of the people, assisted by the clerk, then searched the house; they found nothing worthy of notice, except the weapons and armor which Edward had removed, and which he stated to the intendant that he took away as valuable property belonging to the little girl.

“It is sufficient,” said the intendant to his clerk; “undoubtedly there are no papers; but I must, before I go, interrogate this child who has been removed thus; but she will be frightened, and I shall obtain no answer from her, if we are so many, so let every body leave the cottage while I speak to her.”

The clerk and the others left the cottage, and the intendant desired Edward to bring Clara from the bedroom. She came out, accompanied by and clinging indeed to Alice, for she was much alarmed.

“Come here, Clara,” said the intendant, gently; “you do not know perhaps that I am your sincere friend; and now that your father is dead, I want you to come and live with my daughter, who will be delighted to have you as a companion. Will you go with me, and I will take care of you and be a father to you?”

“I do not like to leave Alice and Edith; they treat me so kindly, and call me sister,” replied Clara, sobbing.

“I am sure they do, and that you must be fond of them already, but still it is your duty to come with me; and if your father could speak to you now, he would tell you so. I will not force you away; but remember, you are born a lady, and must be brought up and educated as a lady, which can not be the case in this cottage, although they are very kind to you, and very nice young people. You do not recollect me, Clara; but you have often sat on my knee when you were a little girl and when your father lived in Dorsetshire. You recollect the great walnut-tree by the sitting-room window, which looked out in the garden; don’t you?”

“Yes,” replied Clara, with surprise.

“Yes, so do I too, and how you used to sit on my knee; and do you remember Jason, the big mastiff, and how you used to ride upon his back?”

“Yes,” replied Clara, “I do; but he died a long while ago.”

“He did, when you were not more than six years old. And now tell me, where did the old gardener bury him?”

“Under the mulberry-tree,” replied Clara.

“Yes, so he did, and I was there when poor Jason was buried. You don’t recollect me. But I will take off my hat, for I did not wear the same dress that I do now. Now look, Clara, and see if you remember me.”

Clara, who was no longer alarmed, looked on the intendant’s face, and then said, “You called my father Philip, and he used to call you Charles.”

“You are right, my sweet one,” replied the intendant, pressing Clara to his bosom; “I did so, and we were great friends. Now, will you come with me? and I have a little girl, older than you by three or four years, who will be your companion, and love you dearly.”

“May I come and see Alice and Edith sometimes?”

“Yes, you shall, and she will come with you and make their acquaintance, if their brother will permit it. I will not take you away now, dearest; you shall remain here for a few days, and then we will come over and fetch you. I will send Oswald Partridge over to let you know the day, Edward Armitage, when we will come for her. Good-by, dear Clara; and good-by, my little girls. Humphrey Armitage, good-by. Who is this lad you have here?”

“He is a gipsy whom Humphrey trapped in his pitfall, sir, and we have soon tamed him,” replied Edward.

“Well, then, Edward Armitage, good-by,” said the intendant, extending his hand to him, “we must meet soon again.”

The intendant then went out of the cottage, and joined his people outside. Edward went out after him; and as the intendant mounted his horse, he said very coldly to Edward, “I shall keep a sharp look-out on your proceedings, sir, depend upon it; I tell you so decidedly, so fare you well.”

With these words the intendant put the spurs to his horse, and rode away.

“What made him speak so sharply to you, Edward?” said Humphrey.

“Because he means kindly, but does not want other people to know it,” replied Edward. “Come in, Humphrey; I have much to tell you and much to surprise you with.”

“I have been surprised already,” replied Humphrey. “How did this Roundhead know Clara’s father so well?”

“I will explain all before we go to bed,” replied Edward; “let us go in now.”

The two brothers had a long conversation that evening, in which Edward made Humphrey acquainted with all that had passed between him and the intendant.

“It’s my opinion, Edward,” said Humphrey, “that he thinks matters have been carried too far, and that he is sorry that he belongs to the Parliamentary party. He finds out, now that it is too late, that he has allied himself with those who have very different feelings and motives than his own, and has assisted to put power into the hands of those who have not the scruples which he has.”

“Yes, and in ridding themselves of one tyranny, as they considered it,