"And now, Patience, I must request you to answer me one question candidly. I do not blame you for your conduct, which was correct under the circ.u.mstances. I also had a secret which I perhaps ought to have confided; but I did consider that the confidence and paternal kindness with which I treated Edward would have been sufficient to point out to you that I could not have been very averse to a union; indeed, the freedom of communication which I allowed between you, must have told you so: but your sense of duty and propriety has made you act as you ought to have done, I grant, although contrary to my real wishes."

"Your wishes, my father?" said Patience.

"Yes-my wishes; there is nothing that I so ardently desired as a union between you and Edward; but I wished you to love him for his own merits."

"I have done so, father," replied Patience, sobbing again, "although I did not tell him so."

The intendant remained silent for some time, and then said,

"There is no cause for further concealment, Patience; I have only to regret that I was not more explicit sooner. I have long suspected, and have since been satisfied, that Edward Armitage is Edward Beverley, who with his brothers and sisters were supposed to have been burned to death at Arnwood."

Patience removed her handkerchief from her face, and looked at her father with astonishment.

"I tell you that I had a strong suspicion of it, my dear child, first, from the n.o.ble appearance, which no forest garb could disguise; but what gave me further conviction was, that when at Lymington I happened to fall in with one Benjamin, who had been a servant at Arnwood, and interrogated him closely. He really believed that the children were burned; it is true that I asked him particularly relative to the appearance of the children-how many were boys, and how many were girls, their ages, &c.-but the strongest proof was, that the names of the four children corresponded with the names of the Children of the Forest, as well as their ages, and I went to the church register and extracted them. Now this was almost amounting to proof; for it was not likely that four children in the forest cottage should have the same ages and names as those of Arnwood. After I had ascertained this point, I engaged Edward, as you know, wishing to secure him, for I was once acquainted with his father, and at all events well acquainted with the colonel's merits. You remained in the house together, and it was with pleasure that I watched the intimacy between you; and then I exerted myself to get Arnwood restored to him. I could not ask it for him, but I prevented it being given to any other by laying claim to it myself. Had Edward remained with us, all might have succeeded as I wished; but he would join in the unfortunate insurrection. I knew it was useless to prevent him, so I let him go. I found that he took the name of Beverley during the time he was with the king's army, and when I was last in town I was told so by the commissioners, who wondered where he had come from; but the effect was that it was now useless for me to request the estate for him, as I had wished to do-his having served in the royal army rendered it impossible. I therefore claimed it for myself, and succeeded. I had made up my mind that he was attached to you, and you were equally so to him; and as soon as I had the grant sent down, which was on the evening he addressed you, I made known to him that the property was given to me; and I added, on some dry questions being put to me by him, relative to the possibility of there being still existing an heir to the estate, that there was no chance of that, and that you would be the mistress of Arnwood. I threw it out as a hint to him, fancying that, as far as you were concerned, all would go well, and that I would explain to him my knowledge of who he was, after he had made known his regard for you."

"Yes, I see it all now," replied Patience; "in one hour he is rejected by me, and in the next he is told that I have obtained possession of his property. No wonder that he is indignant, and looks upon us with scorn. And now he has left us; we have driven him into danger, and may never see him again. Oh, father! I am very, very miserable!"

"We must hope for the best, Patience. It is true that he has gone to the wars, but it does not therefore follow that he is to be killed. You are both very young-much too young to marry-and all may be explained. I must see Humphrey and be candid with him.".

"But Alice and Edith-where are they gone, father?"

"That I can inform you. I have a letter from Langton on the subject, for I begged him to find out. He says that there are two young ladies of the name of Beverley, who have been placed under the charge of his friends, the Ladies Conynghame, who is aunt to Major Chaloner, who has been for some time concealed in the forest. But I have letters to write, my dear Patience. To-morrow, if I live and do well, I will ride over to the cottage to see Humphrey Beverley."

The intendant kissed his daughter, and she left the room.

Poor Patience! she was glad to be left to herself, and think over this strange communication. For many days she had felt how fond she had been of Edward, much more so than she had believed herself to be. "And now," she thought, "if he really loves me, and hears my father's explanation, he will come back again." By degrees she recovered her serenity, and employed herself in her quiet domestic duties.

Mr. Heatherstone rode over to the cottage the next day, where he found Humphrey busily employed as usual, and, what was very unusual, extremely grave. It was not a pleasant task for Mr. Heatherstone to have to explain his conduct to so very young a man as Humphrey, but he felt that he could not be comfortable until the evil impression against him was removed, and he knew that Humphrey had a great deal of sterling good sense. His reception was cool; but when the explanation was made, Humphrey was more than satisfied, as it showed that the intendant had been their best friend, and that it was from a delicacy on the part of Patience, rather than from any other cause, that the misunderstanding had occurred. Humphrey inquired if he had permission to communicate the substance of their conversation to his brother, and Mr. Heatherstone stated that such was his wish and intention when he confided it to Humphrey. It is hardly necessary to say that Humphrey took the earliest opportunity of writing to Edward at the direction which Chaloner had left with him.

CHAPTER XXVII.

But we must follow Edward for a time. On his arrival at Paris, he was kindly received by King Charles, who promised to a.s.sist his views in joining the army.

"You have to choose between two generals, both great in the art of war-Conde and Turenne. I have no doubt that they will be opposed to each other soon-that will be the better for you, as you will learn tactics from such great players."

"Which would your majesty recommend me to follow?" inquired Edward.

"Conde is my favorite, and he will soon be opposed to this truculent and dishonest court, who have kept me here as an instrument to accomplish their own wishes, but who have never intended to keep their promises, and place me on the English throne. I will give you letters to Conde; and, recollect that whatever general you take service under, you will follow him without pretending to calculate how far his movements may be right or wrong-that is not your affair. Conde is just now released from Vincennes, but depend upon it he will be in arms very soon."

As soon as he was furnished with the necessary credentials from the king, Edward presented himself at the levee of the Prince of Conde.

"You are here highly spoken of," said the prince, "for so young a man. So you were at the affair of Worcester? We will retain you, for your services will be wanted by-and-by. Can you procure any of your countrymen?"

"I know but of two that I can recommend from personal knowledge; but these two officers I can venture to pledge myself for."

"Any more?"

"That I can not at present reply to your highness; but I should think it very possible."

"Bring me the officers to-morrow at this hour, Monsieur Beverley-au revoir."

The Prince of Conde then pa.s.sed on to speak to other officers and gentlemen who were waiting to pay their respects. Edward went to Chaloner and Grenville, who were delighted with the intelligence which he brought them. The next day they were at the prince's levee, and introduced by Edward.

"I am fortunate, gentlemen," said the prince, "in securing the services of such fine young men. You will oblige me by enlisting as many of your countrymen as you may consider likely to do good service, and then follow me to Guienne, to which province I am now about to depart. Be pleased to put yourself into communication with the parties named in this paper, and after my absence you will receive from them every a.s.sistance and necessary supplies which may be required."

A month after this interview, Conde, who had been joined by a great number of n.o.bles, and had been re-enforced by troops from Spain, set up the standard of revolt. Edward and his friends joined them, with about three hundred English and Scotchmen, which they had enlisted, and very soon afterward Conde obtained the victory at Blenan, and in April, 1652, advanced to Paris. Turenne, who had taken the command of the French army, followed him, and a severe action was fought in the streets of the suburb of St. Antoine, in which neither party had the advantage. But eventually Conde was beaten back by the superior force of Turenne; and, not receiving the a.s.sistance he expected from the Spaniards, he fell back to the frontiers of Champagne.

Previous to his departure from Paris, Edward had received Humphrey's letter, explaining away the intendant's conduct; and the contents removed a heavy load from Edward's mind; but he now thought of nothing but war, and although he cherished the idea of Patience Heatherstone, he was resolved to follow the fortunes of the prince as long as he could. He wrote a letter to the intendant, thanking him for his kind feelings and intentions toward him, and he trusted that he might one day have the pleasure of seeing him again. He did not however think it advisable to mention the name of his daughter, except in inquiring after her health, and sending his respects. "It may be years before I see her again," thought Edward, "and who knows what may happen?"

The Prince of Conde now had the command of the Spanish forces in the Netherlands; and Edward, with his friends, followed his fortunes, and gained his good-will: they were rapidly promoted.

Time flew on, and in the year 1654 the court of France concluded an alliance with Cromwell, and expelled King Charles from the French frontiers. The war was still carried on in the Netherlands. Turenne bore down Conde, who had gained every campaign; and the court of Spain, wearied with reverses, made overtures of peace, which was gladly accepted by the French.

During these wars, Cromwell had been named Protector, and had shortly afterward died.

Edward, who but rarely heard from Humphrey, was now anxious to quit the army and go to the king, who was in Spain; but to leave his colors, while things were adverse, was impossible.

After the peace and the pardon of Conde by the French king, the armies were disbanded, and the three adventurers were free. They took their leave of the prince, who thanked them for their long and meritorious services; and they then hastened to King Charles, who had left Spain and come to the Low Countries. At the time of their joining the king, Richard, the son of Cromwell, who had been nominated Protector, had resigned, and every thing was ready for the Restoration.

On the 15th of May, 1660, the news arrived that Charles had been proclaimed king on the 8th, and a large body of gentlemen went to invite him over. The king sailed from Scheveling, was met at Dover by General Monk, and conducted to London, which he entered amid the acclamations of the people, on the 29th of the same month.

We may leave the reader to suppose that Edward, Chaloner, and Grenville were among the most favored of those in his train. As the procession moved slowly along the Strand, through a countless mult.i.tude, the windows of all the houses were filled with well-dressed ladies, who waved their white kerchiefs to the king and his attendant suit. Chaloner, Edward, and Grenville, who rode side by side as gentlemen in waiting, were certainly the most distinguished among the king's retinue.

"Look, Edward," said Chaloner, "at those lovely girls at yon window. Do you recognize them?"

"Indeed I do not. Are they any of our Paris beauties?"

"Why, thou insensible and unnatural animal! they are thy sisters, Alice and Edith; and do you not recognize behind them my good aunts Conynghame?"

"It is so, I believe," replied Edward. "Yes, now that Edith smiles, I'm sure it is them."

"Yes," replied Grenville, "there can be no doubt of that; but will they, think you, recognize us?"

"We shall see," replied Edward, as they now approached within a few yards of the window; for while they had been speaking the procession had stopped.

"Is it possible," thought Edward, "that these can be the two girls in russet gowns, that I left at the cottage? And yet it must be. Well, Chaloner, to all appearance, your good aunts have done justice to their charge."

"Nature has done more, Edward. I never thought that they would have grown into such lovely girls as they have, although I always thought that they were handsome."

As they pa.s.sed, Edward caught the eye of Edith, and smiled.

"Alice, that's Edward!" said Edith, so loud, as to be heard by the king, and all near him.

Alice and Edith rose and waved their handkerchiefs, but they were soon obliged to cease, and put them to their eyes.