The Children of the New Forest, Frederick Marryat [best non fiction books of all time .TXT] 📗

Taking his saddlebags on his arm, he walked softly down stairs, that he might not disturb any of the family; but when he was passing the sitting-room, he perceived that there was a light in it, and, on looking in, that Patience was up and dressed. Edward looked surprised, and was about to speak, when Patience said—

“I rose early, Edward, because, when I took leave of you last night, I forgot a little parcel that I wanted to give you before you went. It will not take much room, and may beguile a weary hour. It is a little book of meditations. Will you accept it, and promise me to read it when you have time?”

“I certainly will, my dear Patience—if I may venture on the expression—read it, and think of you.”

“Nay, you must read it, and think of what it contains,” replied Patience.

“I will, then. I shall not need the book to remind me of Patience Heatherstone, I assure you.”

“And now, Edward, I do not pretend to surmise the reason of your departure, nor would it be becoming in me to attempt to discover what my father thinks proper to be silent upon; but I must beg you to promise one thing.”

“Name it, dear Patience,” replied Edward; “my heart is so full at the thought of leaving you, that I feel I can refuse you nothing.”

“It is this: I have a presentiment, I know not why, that you are about to encounter danger. If so, be prudent—be prudent for the sake of your dear sisters—be prudent for the sake of all your friends, who would regret you—promise me that.”

“I do promise you, most faithfully, Patience, that I will ever have my sisters and you in my thoughts, and will not be rash under any circumstances.”

“Thank you, Edward; may God bless you and preserve you!”

Edward first kissed Patience’s hand, that was held in his own; but, perceiving the tears starting in her eyes, he kissed them off, without any remonstrance on her part, and then left the room. In a few moments more he was mounted on a fine, powerful black horse, and, followed by Sampson, on his road to London.

We will pass over the journey, which was accomplished without any event worthy of remark. Edward had, from the commencement, called Sampson to his side, that he might answer the questions he had to make upon all that he saw, and which, the reader must be aware, was quite new to one whose peregrinations had been confined to the New Forest and the town adjacent. Sampson was a very powerful man, of a cool and silent character, by no means deficient in intelligence, and trustworthy withal. He had long been a follower of the intendant, and had served in the army. He was very devout, and generally, when not addressed, was singing hymns in a low voice.

On the evening of the second day, they were close to the metropolis, and Sampson pointed out to Edward St. Paul’s Cathedral and Westminster Abbey, and other objects worthy of note.

“And where are we to lodge, Sampson?” inquired Edward.

“The best hotel that I know of for man and beast is the ‘Swan with Three Necks,’ in Holborn. It is not over-frequented by roisterers, and you will there be quiet, and, if your affairs demand it, unobserved.”

“That will suit me, Sampson: I wish to observe and not be observed, during my stay in London.”

Before dark they had arrived at the hotel, and the horses were in the stable. Edward had procured an apartment to his satisfaction, and, feeling fatigued with his two days’ traveling, had gone to bed.

The following morning he examined the letters which had been given to him by the intendant, and inquired of Sampson if he could direct him on his way. Sampson knew London well; and Edward set out to Spring Gardens, to deliver a letter, which the intendant informed him was confidential, to a person of the name of Langton. Edward knocked and was ushered in, Sampson taking a seat in the hall, while Edward was shown into a handsomely-furnished library, where he found himself in the presence of a tall, spare man, dressed after the fashion of the Roundheads of the time. He presented the letter. Mr. Langton bowed, and requested Edward to sit down; and, after Edward had taken a chair, he then seated himself and opened the letter.

“You are right welcome, Master Armitage,” said Mr. Langton; “I find that, young as you appear to be, you are in the whole confidence of our mutual friend, Master Heatherstone. He hints at your being probably obliged to take a journey to the north, and that you will be glad to take charge of any letters which I may have to send in that direction. I will have them ready for you; and, in case of need, they will be such as will give a coloring to your proceeding, provided you may not choose to reveal your true object. How wears our good friend Heatherstone and his daughter?”

“Quite well, sir.”

“And he told me in one of his former letters that he had the daughter of our poor friend Ratcliffe with him. Is it not so?”

“It is, Master Langton; and a gentle, pretty child as you would wish to see.”

“When did you arrive in London?”

“Yesterday evening, sir.”

“And do you purpose any stay?”

“That I can not answer, sir; I must be guided by your advice. I have naught to do here, unless it be to deliver some three or four letters, given me by Mr. Heatherstone.”

“It is my opinion, Master Armitage, that the less you are seen in this city the better; there are hundreds employed to find out new-comers, and to discover, from their people, or by other means, for what purpose they may have come; for you must be aware, Master Armitage, that the times are dangerous, and people’s minds are various. In attempting to free ourselves from what we considered despotism, we have created for ourselves a worse despotism, and one that is less endurable. It is to be hoped that what has passed will make not only kings but subjects wiser than they have been. Now, what do you propose—to leave this instantly?”

“Certainly, if you think it advisable.”

“My advice, then, is to leave London immediately. I will give you letters to some friends of mine in Lancashire and Yorkshire; in either county you can remain unnoticed, and make what preparations you think necessary. But do nothing in haste—consult well, and be guided by them, who will, if it is considered advisable and prudent, join with you in your project. I need say no more. Call upon me tomorrow morning, an hour before noon, and I will have letters ready for you.”

Edward rose to depart, and thanked Mr. Langton for his kindness.

“Farewell, Master Armitage,” said Langton; “tomorrow, at the eleventh hour!”

Edward then quitted the house, and delivered the other letters of credence; the only one of importance at the moment was the one of credit; the others were to various members of the Parliament, desiring them to know Master Armitage as a confidential friend of the intendant, and, in case of need, to exert their good offices in his behalf. The letter of credit was upon a Hamburgh merchant, who asked Edward if he required money. Edward replied that he did not at present, but that he had business to do for his employer in the north, and might require some when there, if it was possible to obtain it so far from London.

“When do you set out, and to what town do you go?”

“That I can not well tell until tomorrow.”

“Call before you leave this, and I will find some means of providing for you as you wish.”

Edward then returned to the hotel. Before he went to bed, he told Sampson that he found that he had to leave London on Mr. Heatherstone’s affairs, and might be absent some time; he concluded by observing that he did not consider it necessary to take him with him, as he could dispense with his services, and Mr. Heatherstone would be glad to have him back.

“As you wish, sir,” replied Sampson. “When am I to go back?”

“You may leave tomorrow as soon as you please. I have no letter to send. You may tell them that I am well, and will write as soon as I have any thing positive to communicate.”

Edward then made Sampson a present, and wished him a pleasant journey.

At the hour appointed on the following day, Edward repaired to Mr. Langton, who received him very cordially.

“I am all ready for you, Master Armitage; there is a letter to two Catholic ladies in Lancashire, who will take great care of you; and here is one to a friend of mine in Yorkshire. The ladies live about four miles from the town of Bolton, and my Yorkshire friend in the city of York. You may trust to any of them. And now, farewell; and, if possible, leave London before nightfall—the sooner the better. Where is your servant?”

“He has returned to Master Heatherstone this morning.”

“You have done right. Lose no time to leave London; and don’t be in a hurry in your future plans. You understand me. If any one accosts you on the road, put no trust in any professions. You, of course, are going down to your relations in the north. Have you pistols?”

“Yes, sir; I have a pair which did belong to the unfortunate Mr. Ratcliffe.”

“Then they are good ones, I’ll answer for it; no man was more particular about his weapons, or knew how to use them better. Farewell, Master Armitage, and may success attend you!”

Mr. Langton held out his hand to Edward, who respectfully took his leave.

 

CHAPTER XXII.

 

Edward was certain that Mr. Langton would not have advised him to leave London if he had not considered that it was dangerous to remain. He therefore first called upon the Hamburgh merchant, who, upon his explanation, gave him a letter of credit to a friend who resided in the city of York; and then returned to the hotel, packed up his saddlebags, paid his reckoning, and, mounting his horse, set off on the northern road. As it was late in the afternoon before he was clear of the metropolis, he did not proceed farther than Barnet, where he pulled up at the inn. As soon as he had seen his horse attended to, Edward, with his saddlebags on his arm, went into the room in the inn where all the travelers congregated. Having procured a bed, and given his saddlebags into the charge of the hostess, he sat down by the fire, which, although it was warm weather, was nevertheless kept alight.

Edward had made no alteration in the dress which he had worn since he had been received in the house of Mr. Heatherstone. It was plain, although of good materials. He wore a high-crowned hat, and, altogether, would, from his attire, have been taken for one of the Roundhead party. His sword and shoulder-belt were indeed of more gay appearance than those usually worn by the Roundheads; but this was the only difference.

When Edward first entered the room, there were three persons in it, whose appearance was not very prepossessing. They were dressed in what had once been gay attire, but which now exhibited tarnished lace, stains of wine, arid dust from traveling. They eyed him as he entered with his saddlebags, and one of them said—

“That’s a fine horse you were riding, sir. Has he much speed?”

“He has,” replied Edward, as he turned away and went into the bar to speak with the hostess, and give his property into her care.

“Going