"I shall walk boldly when I get out of the garden," he thought, "and if I am taken before Cromwell, I will say why I desire liberty; I only wish to see her once more, and then farewell to all! the red cross against my name, in Oliver's dark book, may be dyed still redder--in my heart's blood!"

Although his arm was stiff from the bleeding he had undergone but an hour before, he watched till the soldier's back was turned, and dropped from the window. He had scarcely time to conceal himself beneath a row of evergreens when the sentinel turned on his path. Robin crept on, from tuft to tuft--now under the shadow of a tree--now under that of a turret, until he found himself close to a high wall which flanked the side next the river; and then he became sorely perplexed as to the method of his further escape. To the right was a gate which, from its position, he judged led into one of the outer courts, and, notwithstanding his first resolve of braving his way, habit and consideration induced him to prefer the track least frequented or attended with risk. At the extremity of the wall, where it turned at a right angle to afford an opening for a gateway, grew an immense yew-tree, solitary and alone, like some dark and malignant giant, stretching out its arms to battle with centuries and storms; softened by no shadow, cheered by no sunbeam, enlivened by no shower, no herb or flower flourished beneath its ban, but there it towered, like the spirit of evil in a smiling world. The wall, too, was overgrown with ivy--the broad ivy, whose spreading leaves hide every little stem that clasps the bosom of the hard stone, and, with most cunning wisdom, extracts sustenance from all it touches. Robin's keen eye scanned well every nook and corner, and he then mounted the tree, conceiving he might, with little difficulty, descend on the other side, as he perceived that the branches bent over the wall. He had hardly reached midway, when a voice, whose tones he well remembered, fell upon his ear, and for a moment called back his thoughts from their sad and distant wanderings. He paused: the sound was not from the garden, nor the roof.

After much scrutiny, he discovered a small aperture of about a foot square, that was originally a window, but latterly had been choked by the matted ivy which overspread its bars. The voice was as of one who has tasted the weariness of life, and would fain put away the cup that was all bitterness. It sung, but the song was more a murmur than a lay, sorrowful as the winter's wind that roams through the long and cl.u.s.tering gra.s.s in some old churchyard, telling,--

"Of blighted hopes and prospects shaded, Of buried hopes remember'd well, Of ardor quench'd, and honour faded."

With a trembling hand the Ranger sought to disentangle the ivy; but this he found it almost impossible to effect in consequence of the pain arising from his left arm whenever he slung himself by it. At length he in some degree succeeded, but could see nothing, except that light came up from a chamber, which, he then believed, must be lighted from beneath, though the window did not look into the garden. The voice still continued; it was one of the songs of Provence that was sung--the wail of a young girl over the body of her dead lover, the burthen of which was that of the Psalmist of old:--

"I shall go to thee, But thou canst never come to me."

There was no poetry in the song, but the sentiment touched the heart of the afflicted Robin. His breast heaved and heaved, like the swell of the troubled sea, and then tears burst in torrents from his eyes, and relieved his burning and dizzy brain.

"I never thought to have wept again," he said, "and I bless G.o.d for the ease it gives me; yet why should I bless that which has cursed me?" And again his heart returned to its bitterness; the hand that so often had attuned it to gentleness, was cold--cold in death. Alas! resignation is the most difficult lesson in the Christian code; few there are who learn it to perfection--it requires a long and a melancholy apprenticeship!

Again he endeavoured to withdraw the ivy, and once ventured to speak; but he dreaded to raise his voice. "At all events," thought Robin, "I will send him a token;" and, extending his hand, he dropped the paper containing the lock of hair which had been given him by the blithe landlady of the Oliver's Head. The ringlet was received, for on the instant the singing ceased, and presently Walter De Guerre called aloud, "In the name of G.o.d, who sends me this?"

Bitterly did Robin regret that he was totally unprovided with pencil, tablets, or aught that could convey intelligence to Walter. At another time his active genius would have found some means of communication, but his faculties were only half alive, and he could but regret and listen.

It would appear, however, that, as Walter spoke, he was interrupted by some one entering his chamber, for his voice suddenly ceased, and though Robin heard it again, it was in converse with another. He listened attentively for some time, but could catch nothing of the subject upon which they spoke.

As suddenly as the interview had commenced, so suddenly did it terminate; for, though Robin threw pieces of stick and fragments of mortar into the aperture, to intimate that he continued there, no answering signal was returned. The evening was drawing on, and persons pa.s.sed and repa.s.sed beneath the tree--some of them with hurried, some with slower steps: at last the self-same page with whom he had jested rushed forward in company with the sentinel, and Robin heard him say,--

"I tell you, his Highness will wait no forms; he commanded you instantly to come to him. It is impossible that a cat could fall from that window without your seeing it, unless you were asleep on your post."

"I had no caution about the window, master; and, at all events, nothing, I am sure, could pa.s.s from it, except a spirit," replied the soldier.

Immediately after the guard pa.s.sed for the purpose of replacing the sentinel; and about half an hour afterwards, there was a bustle in the courts, the tramping of brave steeds, and the rolling of carriage-wheels; then the braying trumpet sounded "to horse!" and soon the noise of much and stately pageantry was lost in the distance. Robin Hays cared not to move until the palace was more at rest; but his meditations were continually disturbed by the pa.s.sers-by. Had he been disposed to listen or pay any attention to those who came and went, he could have heard and seen things, from which much that was bitter and much that was sweet might have been gathered. He might have observed that a plain coat or a simple hood changes not the nature of those who wear it; yet, on the other hand, he would have noted that the plain coat and simple hood preserve from outward vice, however the inward thoughts may triumph. But the watchful lynx-eyed ranger was changed, sorely, sadly changed; in four brief hours he had lived more than treble the number of years. He patiently lingered, till the shades of evening closed, to effect an escape, that had now become more easy, inasmuch as the inmates of the palace had nearly all retired to their apartments.

Through the agency of the yew-tree, he arrived at the highest portion of the wall, and looking over, perceived that a roof descended from the large coping-stones on which he stood, in a slanting manner, and that the building communicated by an arched covering to the palace: the Thames was not distant from the base of the building more than sixty yards, so that once down, his escape was certain. Watching the movements of a sentry, posted at some little distance from the gate, he slid along the roof, stretching himself at full length, and without any further mishap crawled to the river's brink, plunged in, and arrived at the Surrey-side of the silver Thames in perfect safety. He resolved to cross the country to Bromley with as little delay as possible, inasmuch as he had friends there who would hasten his journey;--and as concealment was no longer needed, he thought that a good steed would be most valuable; he therefore availed himself of one who was enjoying its evening meal quietly among the Surrey hills; for the credit of his honesty, however, it is fair to record, he noted the place, so that one of his agents could restore the animal in the course of the following night. By this manoeuvre, and urging its utmost speed, together with the a.s.sistance he received at Bromley, Robin arrived at King's-ferry before the morning was far advanced. He did not now, as on former occasions, cross the Swale to Elmley or Harty, with a view to avoid observation, but threw himself into the boat of Jabez Tippet, the ferryman, to whom, as it may be supposed, he was well known.

Jabez carried about him all the external distinctions of Puritanism--a cropped head--a downcast eye--a measured step, and a stock of sighs and religious exclamations. There was one maxim that found a ready response within his bosom. "He was all things to all men;" could aid a smuggler, drink with a Cavalier, pray with a Roundhead. He was, moreover, a tall, powerful man--one who, if he found it fitting, could enforce a holy argument with a carnal weapon; cutting a man's throat, while he exclaimed, "It is the Lord's will! it is the Lord's will!" There was nothing peculiar in his dress, except a huge pair of loose boots, of the thickest untanned leather, that reached considerably above his knees, and from frequent immersion in the tide had a.s.sumed a deep brown hue.

His hat was conical, and only distinguished by a small dirk glittering in the band, which he carried there as a place of safety from contact with the sea-water.

"My gay Ranger travelling in open day, when there is such wild news abroad!" he said.

Robin made no reply; and Jabez, who was pulling at the huge cable, which then, as well as now, towed the boats across, stopped and looked at him.

"My bonny Robin, what ails ye, man? Hast been cheated by the excise, or plundered by the Roundheads, or does the strange trouble they say has come upon Hugh Dalton affect ye so much?"

Robin turned his head away; his grief was too deep to covet witnesses.

"There's a guard of Ironsides at Cecil Place by this time," continued the man, who began to think that Robin was relapsing into one of his taciturn fits, "and Noll himself on the road, which I heard, not an hour past, from two soldiers, who have been sent on with his own physician to Sir Robert, who's gone mad as a March hare; and they do say that his Highness has a plan of his own to destroy all free trade on the island for ever: but I'm thinking Hugh has scented it, and is far enough off by this time."

Robin looked inquiringly into the man's face, but did not speak.

"Some time or other, master," continued the ferryman, whose boat now touched the strand, "you'll maybe condescend to unriddle me how Dalton could have a daughter brought up by----"

Robin Hays did not wait for the conclusion of the sentence, but sprang right on the land, with the air of a man bereft of reason, confirming Jabez in the idea that he was again labouring under his old infirmity.

The Ranger took not the direct road to Minster, which he ought to have pa.s.sed on his way to the Gull's Nest, where he resolved to ascertain if Barbara's body was at Cecil Place; but after crossing the downs, that were brightening in the summer's sun and alive with mult.i.tudes of sheep, wound round the base of the hill on which the mansion stood, and as its mixture of ancient and modern architecture became developed, he paused to look upon a spot so endeared by many affectionate recollections. The trees that encircled the fairy ring were conspicuous for their height and beauty of colour; there, too, was the cas.e.m.e.nt window which he had so often watched, knowing that Barbara must pa.s.s it in her morning and evening attendance on her lady; there, peeping from beneath a turret, the lattice admitting light to Barbara's own little chamber; there, the window of Constantia's sitting-room; there---- But he could gaze no longer, his heart sickened within him, and covering his face with his hands, he rushed into a narrow glen that skirted the hillside, and was completely overshadowed by trees, whose unpruned branches were matted and twined together in most fantastic and impervious underwood. He pursued this track, with which he was well acquainted, as leading directly to the back entrance, where he more than once resolved to inquire where Barbara's remains were placed; but he had scarcely proceeded a dozen yards towards the house, when his attention was excited by a sudden and loud rustling amongst the bushes, and on looking towards the spot, he saw first one and then another raven mount in the air, uttering, at short intervals, the peculiar dull and complaining cry of rapacious birds when frightened from their prey. The creatures evidently meditated another descent, for, instead of betaking themselves to the neighbouring trees, they circled round and round in the air, now higher, now lower, mingling their monotonous notes with an occasional scream--thus inharmoniously disturbing the sweet solitude by their unholy orgies. In the mean time, the rustling beneath was renewed, and then as suddenly ceased; but the birds, instead of descending, whirled still higher, as if the object they had sought was for a time hidden from their sight. The Ranger proceeded more cautiously than before, and peering into the bushes, descried one whom he immediately recognised as Jack Roupall, unfastening something of considerable bulk that was contained in a handkerchief, and had apparently lain there for some days, as the gra.s.s from which it had been taken was completely levelled by its pressure. Roupall's ears were nearly as quick as those of Robin, and an exclamation of recognition escaped his lips as he turned round to where the Ranger stood.

"Ah! our little Ranger," said the man, extending his rough hand, "it charms me to see you! I feared you were nabbed somehow, for I knew you'd be cursedly down in the feathers from what the whole island is talking of.--Hast seen the Skipper?"

"Where is he?"

"That's exactly what I want to know; but no one has seen him, that I hear of, since he seized the poor girl, dead as she was, and carried her through the midst of the soldiers, who had too much fear or too much nature in 'em to touch him--I don't know which it was. I'm thinking he's off to the Fire-fly, for he said he'd bury her in the sea;--or hid, maybe, in some o' the holes at the Gull's Nest--holes only known to a few of the sly sort, not to us strappers."

"Good G.o.d!" exclaimed Robin.

"Ah! you may well say, good G.o.d," said Roupall, putting on a look of great sagacity, "for I'm come to the determination that there's much need of a good G.o.d in the world to circ.u.mvent man's wickedness. Why, look ye here now, if here isn't the head of that infernal Italian, Jeromio! and what I'm puzzled at is, that, first, it's wrapped in a napkin which I swear is one of them Holland ones I had o' the Skipper, and which he swore I could have made more of, had I took them on to London, instead of tiffing them at Maidstone; and this, outside it, is Sir Willmott Burrell's--here's the crest broidered in goold:--it's the finest cambric too," he added, relieving the muslin of its disgusting burden, and folding it with care, "and 'tis a pity it should be wasted on filthy flesh; so I'll take care of it--ah! ah! And the napkin's a good one: it's sinful to spoil any thing G.o.d sends--ah! ah! The fellow used to wear ear-rings too," he continued, stooping over the festering head, while the ravens, whose appet.i.tes had increased when they saw the covering entirely removed, flapped the topmost branches of the trees with their wings in their circling, and screamed more vigorously than before.

"How came it--how happened it?" inquired Robin, perfectly aroused to the horror of the scene, to which Roupall appeared quite indifferent.

"I know no more than you," replied the good-humoured ruffian, holding up a jewelled ear-ring between his fingers--"I know no more than you;--Gad, that's fit for any lady's ear in Kent!--Only I heard it was believed among the sharks, that my friend Sir Willmott excited a mutiny aboard the Fire-fly, which this fellow, now without a head, headed--and so, ye understand, lost his head, as the Skipper's punishment for mutiny. How it came here--where it may stay--I know not. There, Robin, there are a pair of rings fit for a queen: maybe, you'll buy them; they're honestly worth two dollars. Well, you would have bought 'em if she'd ha' lived."

"Me!--her!" exclaimed Robin, closing his teeth, and glaring on Jack Roupall with fiendish fierceness.

"Keep off!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Roupall, securing the ear-rings, and placing himself in a posture of defence--"Keep off! I know ye of old, Robin Hays, with your griping fingers and strong palms! Never quarrel with a man because he doesn't understand ye'r delicacies, which are things each makes in his own mind, so that no one else can taste 'em. I meant no harm; only, mark ye, ye sha'n't throttle me for nothing the next go; so keep off; and I'm off, for sides o' flesh and sides o' iron are astir up there; so this is no place for me. I shall be off, and join King Charlie: he's much in want of strong hands, I hear, and who knows but the time is coming when 'the king shall enjoy his own again?'"

"Do but bury _that_!" said Robin: "I would stay and do it, but that I must to the Nest at once."

"No, no," replied Roupall, striding away in an opposite direction; "let it stay where it is, to poison ravens and the carrion-birds. It is fitting food for them. They had n.o.bler banquets at Naseby and at Marston."

CHAPTER V.

Down, stormy Pa.s.sions, down; no more Let your rude waves invade the sh.o.r.e Where blushing Reason sits, and hides Her from the fury of your tides.

Fall, easy Patience, fall like rest, Where soft spells charm a troubled breast.

HENRY KING.

We believe that even those who are anxious to learn if the Protector travelled in safety to his place of destination, and what he did when he arrived there, will scarcely murmur at the delay which a brief visit to Constantia Cecil will necessarily occasion.

We must not leave her alone in her sorrow, which, of a truth, was hard to bear. A temporary respite had been afforded her by the terrible events of the evening; it was, however, a respite that was likely, in her case, only to bring about a more fatal termination. What was to prevent Sir Willmott Burrell from branding her father--from publishing his crime, now that he was to receive no benefit by the terrible secret of which he had become possessed? Although she might be preserved from the dreadful and dreaded doom of marrying a man she could neither regard nor respect, it was equally certain that an eternal barrier existed between her and the only one she loved--a barrier which not even the power of Cromwell could break down or remove. It has been said, and said truly, that there are few things reason can discover with so much certainty and ease as its own deficiency. Constantia was a reasoning being, and she appeared ever placid in situations where her fine mind was overwhelmed by a painful train of circ.u.mstances over which she had no control: the sins for which she suffered were not of her own committing.

She had often gloried in days past at the prospect of fame--the honest, upright fame which appeared the guiding principle that influenced her father's actions, when the seeking after glory seemed to her as a ferment thrown into his blood to work it up to action; and though she sometimes apprehended that he used his will with his right hand and his reason with his left, she never imagined the possibility that his pomp was furnished by injustice and his wealth dyed in blood. It was, in truth, a fearful knowledge she had acquired--a knowledge she could not communicate, and upon which she could never take advice. Her misery was to be endured not only with patience, but in secret and without complaint. That destiny was indeed severe which compelled her to antic.i.p.ate a meeting with Walter as the greatest evil which could befall her; yet ardently did her soul yearn to know his fate. She sat by her father on the first night of his affliction, and on the long, long day that followed, guarding him through his dreadful malady with the watchfulness of a most devoted child, and the skilfulnes of a most wise physician. Almost every word he uttered was as a dagger to her heart; yet she saw and knew the necessity that must soon exist for others to hear him speak, and shuddered at the thought.

"G.o.d! G.o.d! have mercy on me!" she murmured, clasping her hands, as she looked upon his features, which, when it was nearly morning, had been tranquillised into forgetfulness--"G.o.d have mercy upon me--and upon him, poor sleeper!"

"Who sleeps?" he exclaimed, starting from his couch--"_He_ will not let me sleep!--There! Constance, Constance, the ship is under weigh--she spreads her white sails to the breeze, the ocean breeze--the breeze that will not cool my brow!--And there--they drag him from the hold!--Look how he struggles on the vessel's deck!--Spare him!--But no, do not spare him: if he returns, where am I? Hush! did you hear that?--Hush! hush!

hush!" He stretched his hand, and bent his head in an att.i.tude of deep attention; then seizing her arm, repeated "hush!" until at last she again inquired what disturbed him. "'Tis your mother, child; heard you not that she said I murdered you? Speak, Constantia,--you are not dead?

I did not murder you--speak! I fired no pistol, and you did not fall!"

The sleep she had so unintentionally broken had been but of short continuance during those weary hours; and the day was far advanced before she had leisure to bestow a moment's thought upon the probable turn that might be given to her future prospects by the sudden summons of Sir Willmott Burrell to Hampton Court. But, upon whichever side she turned, her destiny was dark, lowering, and fearful as the thunder-storm. How her heart fainted when the form of her favourite Barbara was present to her imagination, as she last held it bleeding on her bosom! How mysterious was that death! how terrible! She would have given worlds to look upon her but once more, for she could ill reconcile the idea of that gentle girl's having a stormy sea-bed at her father's hands--that rude, unhallowed man, the origin and nature of whose influence over her own parent she now understood but too well.

Lady Frances Cromwell would have soothed her affliction had she known how to do so, but comfort cannot be given to a sorrow whose source is unknown. She entered her friend's watching-room, but could not prevail upon her to take either repose or food; and hoping to catch the earliest view of the physician, whose arrival she knew must be soon, she called one of her women to attend her, and wandered up the hill to Minster, where the beautiful ruins of s.e.xburga's nunnery commanded so extensive a view of the entire island, and a considerable portion of the adjoining country. The day had risen to one of unclouded beauty; the marshy coast of Ess.e.x was cleared of its hovering fogs; and its green meadows stretched away in the distance, until they were lost in the clear blue sky. The southern part of the island, flat and uninteresting as it is, looked gay and cheerful in the sun-light; for every little lake mirrored the smiling heavens, and danced in diamond measures to the music of bee and bird.

The cliffs at East-Church towered away for nearly six miles, broken here and there by the falling of some venerable crag, hurled, as it were, into the ocean by the giant hand of changing nature; while, as a sentinel, the house at Gull's Nest Crag maintained its pre-eminence in front of the Northern Ocean. The two little islands of Elmley and Harty slept to the south-east, quietly and silently, like huge rush-nests floating on the waters. Beyond East-Church the lofty front of the house of Shurland reared its stone walls and stern embattlements, and looked proudly over its green hills and fertile valleys--while, if the eye wandered again to the south, it could discern the Barrows, where many hundred Danes, in the turbulent times long past, found quiet and a grave.