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

answer till you have well reflected. I know that you will not accept any thing under the present government; but a private situation you can raise no objection to; the more so as, so far from leaving your family, you will be more in a position to protect them. I am in want of a secretary, and I wish you to accept that office, to live entirely in my house, and to receive a handsome salary for your services, which will not, I trust, be too heavy. You will be near to your family here in the cottage, and be able to protect them and assist them; and what is more, you will mix with the world and know what is going on, as I am in the confidence of the government. Of course, I put implicit confidence in you, or I would not offer the situation. But you will not be always down here: I have my correspondents and friends, to whom I shall have to send you occasionally on most trusty missions. You, I am sure, will suit me in every respect, and I hope you will undertake the post which I now offer to you. Give me no answer just now; consult with your brother, and give the offer due consideration, and when you have made up your mind you can let me know.”

Edward bowed, and the intendant went into the cottage.

Edward then assisted Humphrey and Pablo to get the iron chest on the cart, and covered it with the other packages and boxes, till the cart was well loaded. Leaving Pablo in charge till Oswald came from the stables, Edward and Humphrey then went into the cottage, where they found a very social party; Patience Heatherstone having succeeded in making great friends with the other three girls, and the intendant, to Edward’s surprise, laughing and joking with them. Alice and Edith had brought out some milk, biscuits, and all the fruit that was ripe, with some bread, a cold piece of salt beef, and a ham; and they were eating as well as talking.

“I have been praising your sisters’ housekeeping, Armitage,” said the intendant. “Your farm appears to be very productive.”

“Alice expected Miss Heatherstone, sir,” replied Edward, “and made an unusual provision. You must not think that we live on such fare every day.”

“No,” replied the intendant, dryly; “on other days I dare say you have other fare. I would almost make a bet that there is a pasty in the cupboard which you dare not show to the intendant of the New Forest.”

“You are mistaken, sir, for once,” replied Humphrey. “Alice knows well how to make one, but she has not one just now.”

“Well, I must believe you, Master Humphrey,” replied the intendant. “And now, my dear child, we must think of going, for it is a long ride, and the little girl is not used to a horse.”

“Mistress Alice, many thanks for your hospitality; and now, farewell. Edith, good-by, dear. Now, Clara, are you quite ready?”

They all went out of the cottage. The intendant put Clara on the pony, after she had kissed Alice and Edith. Edward assisted Patience; and when she was mounted, she said—

“I hope you will accept my father’s offer—you will oblige me so much if you do.”

“I will give it every consideration it deserves,” replied Edward. “Indeed, it will depend more upon my brother than myself whether I accept it or not.”

“Your brother is a very sensible young man, sir; therefore, I have hopes,” replied Patience.

“A quality which it appears you do not give me credit for, Miss Heatherstone.”

“Not when pride or vindictive feelings obtain the mastery,” replied she.

“Perhaps you will find that I am not quite so proud, or bear such ill-will, as I did when I first saw your father, Miss Heatherstone; and some allowance should be made, even if I did show such feelings, when you consider that I was brought up at Arnwood.”

“True—most true, Master Armitage. I had no right to speak so boldly, especially to you, who risked your own life to save the daughter of one of those Roundheads who treated the family of your protector so cruelly. You must forgive me; and now, farewell!”

Edward bowed, and then turned to the intendant, who had apparently been waiting while the conversation was going on. The intendant bade him a cordial farewell; Edward shook Clara by the hand, and the cavalcade set off. They all remained outside of the cottage till the party were at some distance, and then Edward walked apart with Humphrey, to communicate to him the offer made by the intendant, and ask his opinion.

“My opinion is made up, Edward, which is that you should accept it immediately. You are under no obligation to the government, and you have already conferred such an obligation upon the intendant that you have a right to expect a return. Why stay here, when you can safely mix with the world and know how things are going on? I do not require your assistance, now that I have Pablo, who is more useful every day. Do not lose such an opportunity of making a friend for yourself and all of us—a protector, I may say—and who is, by what he has confided to you, any thing but approving of the conduct of the present government. He has paid you a deserved compliment by saying that he can and will trust you. You must not refuse the offer, Edward—it would really be folly if you did.”

“I believe you are right, Humphrey; but I have been so accustomed to range the forest—I am so fond of the chase—I am so impatient of control or confinement, that I hardly know how to decide. A secretary’s life is any thing but pleasing to me, sitting at a table writing and reading all day long. The pen is a poor exchange for the long-barreled gun.”

“It does more execution, nevertheless,” replied Humphrey, “if what I have read is true. But you are not to suppose that your life will be such a sedentary one. Did he not say that he would have to trust you with missions of importance? Will you not, by going to London and other places, and mixing with people of importance, be preparing yourself for your proper station in life, which I trust that one day you will resume? And does it follow, that because you are appointed a secretary, you are not to go out in the forest and shoot a deer with Oswald, if you feel inclined—with this difference, that you may do it then without fear of being insulted or persecuted by such a wretch as that Corbould? Do not hesitate any longer, my dear brother; recollect that our sisters ought not to live this forest life as they advance in years—they were not born for it, although they have so well conformed to it. It depends upon you to release them eventually from their false position; and you can never have such an opening as is now offered you, by one whose gratitude alone will make him anxious to serve you.”

“You are right, Humphrey, and I will accept the offer; I can but return to you if things do not go on well.”

“I thank you sincerely for your decision, Edward,” replied Humphrey. “What a sweet girl that Patience Heatherstone is! I think I never saw such an enchanting smile!”

Edward thought of the smile she gave him when they parted but an hour ago, and agreed with Humphrey, but he replied—

“Why, brother, you are really in love with the intendant’s daughter.”

“Not so, my dear brother; but I am in love with her goodness and sweetness of disposition, and so are Alice and Edith, I can tell you. She has promised to come over and see them, and bring them flowers for their garden, and I hardly know what; and I am very glad of it, as my sisters have been buried here so long, that they can not but gain by her company now and then. No! I will leave Mistress Heatherstone for you; I am in love with little Clara.”

“Not a bad choice, Humphrey: we both aspire high, for two young foresters, do we not? However, they say ‘Every dog has his day,’ and Cromwell and his Parliament may have theirs. King Charles may be on his throne again now, long before you catch a forest pony, Humphrey.”

“I hope he will, Edward; but recollect how you laughed at the idea of my catching a cow—you may be surprised a second time. ‘Where there is a will there is a way,’ the saying is. But I must go and help Alice with the heifer: she is not very quiet yet, and I see her going out with her pail.”

The brothers then parted, and Edward then walked about, turning over in his mind the events of the day, and very often finding his thoughts broken in upon by sudden visions of Patience Heatherstone—and certainly the remembrance of her was to him the most satisfactory and pleasing portion of the prospect in his offered situation.

“I shall live with her, and be continually in her company,” thought he. “Well, I would take a less pleasing office if only for that. She requested me to accept it to oblige her, and I will do so. How hasty we are in our conclusions! When I first saw her father, what an aversion I felt for him! Now, the more I know him the more I like him, nay, more—respect him. He said that the king wished to be absolute, and wrest the liberties from his subjects, and that they were justified in opposing him; I never heard that when at Arnwood.”

“If so, was it lawful so to do?”

“I think it was, but not to murder him; that I can never admit, nor does the intendant; on the contrary, he holds his murderers in as great detestation as I do. Why, then, we do not think far apart from one another. At the commencement, the two parties were those who supported him, not admitting that he was right, but too loyal to refuse to fight for their king; and those who opposed, hoping to force him to do right; the king for his supposed prerogatives, the people for their liberties. The king was obstinate, the people resolute, until virulent warfare inflamed both parties, and neither would listen to reason; and the people gained the upper hand—they wreaked their vengeance, instead of looking to the dictates of humanity and justice. How easy it had been to have deposed him, and have sent him beyond the seas! instead of which they detained him a prisoner and then murdered him. The punishment was greater than the offense, and dictated by malice and revenge; it was a diabolical act, and will soil the page of our nation’s history.” So thought Edward, as he paced before the cottage, until he was summoned in by Pablo to their evening meal.

 

CHAPTER XVIII.

 

“Edward,” said Edith, “scold Pablo; he has been ill-treating my poor cat; he is a cruel boy.”

Pablo laughed.

“See, Edward, he’s laughing; put him in the pitfall again, and let him stay there till he says he’s sorry.”

“I very sorry now, Missy Edith—but cat bite me,” said Pablo.

“Well, if pussy did, it didn’t hurt you much; and what did I tell you this morning out of the Bible?—that you must forgive them who behave ill to you.”

“Yes, Missy Edith, you tell me all that, and so I do; I forgive pussy ‘cause she bite me, but I kick her for it.”

“That’s not forgiveness, is it, Edward? You should have forgiven it at once, and not kicked it at all.”

“Miss Edith, when pussy bite me, pussy hurt me,