The Children of the New Forest by Frederick Marryat (ereader with android txt) 📕

we are visited again I shall sham intoxication—that will not be very suspicious."

"No, not on either side," replied Edward. "Come, Alice, we will eat what dinner you may have ready for us."

For three or four days the Parliamentary forces continued to scour the forest, and another visit or two was paid to the cottage, but without suspicion being created, in consequence of the presence of Edward and his explanations. The parties were invariably sent in another direction. Edward wrote to the intendant, informing him what had occurred, and requesting permission to remain a few days longer at the cottage; and Pablo, who took the letter, returned with one from the intendant, acquainting him that the king had not yet been taken; and requesting the utmost vigilance on his part to insure his capture, with directions to search various places, in company with the troopers who had been stationed at the cottage; or, if he did not like to leave the cottage, to shew the letter to any officer commanding parties in search, that they might act upon the suggestions contained in it. This letter Edward had an opportunity of showing to one or two officers, commanding parties, who approached the cottage, and to whom Edward went out to communicate with, thereby preventing their stopping there.

At last, in about a fortnight, there was not a party in the forest; all of them having gone down to the seaside, to look out for the fugitives, several of whom were taken.

Humphrey took the cart to Lymington, to procure clothes for Chaloner and Grenville, and it was decided that they should assume those of verderers of the forest, which would enable them to carry a gun. As soon as Humphrey had obtained what was requisite, Chaloner and Grenville were conducted to Clara's cottage, and took possession, of course never showing themselves outside the wood which surrounded it. Humphrey lent them Holdfast as a watch, and they took leave of Alice and Edith with much regret. Humphrey and Edward accompanied them to their new abode. It was arranged that the horses should remain under the care of Humphrey, as they had no stable at Clara's cottage.

On parting, Chaloner gave Edward the letter for his aunts; and then Edward once more bent his steps toward the intendant's house, and found himself in the company of Patience and Clara.

Edward narrated to the intendant all that had occurred, and the intendant approved of what he had done, strongly advising that Chaloner and Grenville should not attempt to go to the Continent till all pursuit was over.

"Here's a letter I have received from the government, Edward, highly commending my vigilance and activity in pursuit of the fugitives. It appears that the officers you fell in with have written up to state what admirable dispositions we had made. It is a pity, is it not, Edward, that we are compelled to be thus deceitful in this world? Nothing but the times, and the wish to do good, could warrant it. We meet the wicked, and fight them with their own weapons; but although it is treating them as they deserve, our conscience must tell us that it is not right."

"Surely, sir, to save the lives of people who have committed no other fault except loyalty to their king, will warrant our so doing—at least, I hope so."

"According to the Scriptures, I fear it will not, but it is a difficult, question for us to decide. Let us be guided by our own consciences; if they do not reproach us, we can not be far from right."

Edward then produced the letter he had received from Chaloner, requesting that the intendant would have the kindness to forward it.

"I see," replied the intendant; "I can forward these through Langton. I presume it is to obtain credit for money. It shall go on Thursday."

The conference was then broken up, and Edward went to see Oswald.

CHAPTER XXV.

For several days Edward remained at home, anxiously awaiting every news which arrived; expecting every time that the capture of the king would be announced, and, with great joy, finding that hitherto all efforts had been unsuccessful. But there was a question which now arose in Edward's mind, and which was the cause of deep reflection. Since the proposal of sending his sisters away had been started, he felt the great inconvenience of his still representing himself to the intendant as the grandson of Armitage. His sisters, if sent to the ladies at Portlake, must be sent without the knowledge of the intendant; and if so, the discovery of their absence would soon take place, as Patience Heatherstone would be constantly going over to the cottage; and he now asked himself the question, whether, after all the kindness and confidence which the intendant had shown him, he was right in any longer concealing from him his birth and parentage. He felt that he was doing the intendant an injustice, in not showing to him that confidence which ho deserved.

That he was justified in so doing at first, he felt; but since the joining the king's army, and the events which had followed, he considered that he was treating the intendant ill, and he now resolved to take the first opportunity of making the confession. But to do it formally, and without some opportunity which might offer, he felt awkward. At last he thought that he would at once make the confession to Patience, under the promise of secrecy. That he might do at once; and, after he had done so, the intendant could not tax him with want of confidence altogether. He had now analyzed his feelings toward Patience; and he felt how dear she had become to him. During the time he was with the army, she had seldom been out of his thoughts; and although he was often in the society of well bred women, he saw not one that, in his opinion, could compare with Patience Heatherstone; but still, what chance had he of supporting a wife? at present, at the age of nineteen, it was preposterous. Thoughts like these ran in his mind, chasing each other, and followed by others as vague and unsatisfactory; and, in the end, Edward came to the conclusion, that he was without a penny, and that being known as the heir of Beverley would be to his disadvantage; that he was in love with Patience Heatherstone, and had no chance at present of obtaining her; and that he done well up to the present time in concealing who he was from the intendant, who could safely attest that he knew not that he was protecting the son of so noted a Cavalier; and that he would confess to Patience who he was, and give as a reason for not telling her father, that he did not wish to commit him by letting him know who it was that was under his protection. How far the reader may be satisfied with the arguments which Edward was satisfied with, we can not pretend to say; but Edward was young, and hardly knew how to extricate himself from the cloak which necessity had first compelled him to put on. Edward was already satisfied that he was not quite looked upon with indifference by Patience Heatherstone; and he was not yet certain whether it was not a grateful feeling that she had toward him more than any other; that she believed him to be beneath her in birth, he felt convinced, and therefore she could have no idea that he was Edward Beverley. It was not till several days after he had made up his mind that he had an opportunity of being with her alone, as Clara Ratcliffe was their constant companion. However, one evening Clara went out, and staid out so long, carelessly wrapped up, that she caught cold; and the following evening she remained at home, leaving Edward and Patience to take their usual walk unaccompanied by her. They had walked for some minutes in silence, when Patience observed,

"You are very grave, Edward, and have been very grave ever since your return; have you any thing to vex you beyond the failure of the attempt."

"Yes, I have, Patience. I have much on my conscience, and do not know how to act. I want an adviser and a friend, and know not where to find one."

"Surely, Edward, my father is your sincere friend, and not a bad adviser."

"I grant it; but the question is between your father and me, and I can not advise with him for that reason."

"Then advise with me, Edward, if it is not a secret of such moment that it is not to be trusted to a woman; at all events it will be the advice of a sincere friend; you will give me credit for that."

"Yes, and for much more; for I think I shall have good advice, and will therefore accept your offer. I feel, Patience, that although I was justified, on my first acquaintance with your father, in not making known to him a secret of some importance, yet now that he has put such implicit confidence, in me, I am doing him and myself an injustice in not making the communication—that is, as far as confidence in him is concerned. I consider that he has a right to know all, and yet I feel that it would be prudent on my part that he should not know all, as the knowledge might implicate him with those with whom he is at present allied. A secret sometimes is dangerous; and if your father could not say that on his honor he knew not of the secret, it might harm him if the secret became afterward known. Do you understand me?"

"I can not say that I exactly do; you have a secret that you wish to make known to my father, and you think the knowledge of it may harm him. I can not imagine what kind of secret that may be."

"Well, I can give you a case in point. Suppose now that I knew that King Charles was hidden in your stable-loft: such might be the case, and your father be ignorant of it, and his assertion of his ignorance would be believed; but if I were to tell your father that the king was there, and it was afterward discovered, do you not see that, by confiding such a secret to him, I should do harm, and perhaps bring him into trouble?"

"I perceive now, Edward; do you mean to say that you know where the king is concealed? for, if you do, I must beg of you not let my father know any thing about it. As you say, it would put him in a difficult position, and must eventually harm him much. There is a great difference between wishing well to a cause and supporting it in person. My father wishes the king well, I believe, but, at the same time, he will not take an active part, as you have already seen; at the same time, I am convinced that he would never betray the king if he knew where he was. I say, therefore, if that is your secret, keep it from him, for his sake and for mine, Edward, if you regard me."

"You know not how much I regard you, Patience. I saw many highborn women when I was away, but none could I see equal to Patience Heatherstone, in my opinion; and Patience was ever in my thoughts during my long absence."

"I thank you for your kind feelings toward me," replied Patience; "but,
Master Armitage, we were talking about your secret."

"Master Armitage!" rejoined Edward; "how well you know how to remind me, by that expression, of my obscure birth and parentage, whenever I am apt to forget the distance which I ought to observe!"

"You are wrong!" replied Patience; "but you flattered me so grossly, that I called you Master Armitage to show that I disliked flattery, that was all. I dislike flattery from those who are above me in rank, as well as those who are below me; and I should have done the same to any other person, whatever his condition might be. But forget what I said, I did not mean to vex you, only to punish you for thinking me so silly as to believe such nonsense."

"Your humility may construe that into flattery which was said by me in perfect sincerity and truth-that I can not help," replied Edward. "I might have added much more, and yet have been sincere; if you had not reminded me of my not being of gentle birth, I might have had the presumption to have told you much more; but I