The New River: a romance of the time of Hugh Myddelton

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NEW AND CHEAP EDITIONS OF POPULAR NOVELS. VIVA. By MrB. Fobbesteb. 6s. THE PRETTIEST 'WOMAN IN WARSAW. By Mabel Collins. 6s. LIL LORIMER. By Theo. Gift. 6s, GREAT PORTER SQUARE. By B. L. Fakjeon. 6s. THE HOUSE OF WHITE SHADOWS. By B. L. Fabjeon. 6s. PROPER PRIDE. By B. M. Ceokee. 6s. A MAIDEN ALL FORLORN. By the Author of " Phyllis." 3s. 6d. GRIF. By B. L. Fabjeon. 3s. 6d. FOLLY MORRISatfe^FBANK Babbett. 3s. 6d. THE DUKE'S/sWEETIIEART. By Bichaed Dowling. 2t. 2 DE85 HONEST DAVTE. By Frank Babbett. 2s. WABD & DOWNEY, PUBLISHERS, LONDON. A ROMANCE OF THE TIME OF HUGH MYDDELTON. BY EDWARD PITZGIBBON, author of " the hovellers op deal," etc. fottUon : WARD AND DOWNEY, 12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.C. [AU Rights Reierved.] LONDON : BWIFT AND CO., PRINTERS, NEWTON STREET, HIGH HOLBORN, W.C. CONTENTS. — 0 —

Chapter I. The Fight On Amwell Hell

Brightly shone the sun on the 30th day of April, 1607, over the fields surrounding the pleasant httle village of Amwell, near Ware, in Hertfordshire, and many a young heart rejoiced in the sunshine, and saw hi it the promise of a bright morrow. The day following would be May Day, and in the time of my story May Day was a far more important institution than it is at present. The young people of the village had turned out in a body, and were scouring the meadows and bushes for floral treasures for the coming festival. Here was a group of maidens, their hands filled with flowers, discussing the charms and attractions of the queen-elect. There was a knot of lads rifling a bush of its wealth of snow-white blossoms, while in the distance might be seen couples who seemed to prefer their own society to the merriment of the others, and to be more intent on conversation than the labour they were supposed to have in hand.

There were not many who were solitary, and yet, if you had let your eyes wander away to the right, down there beside the stream, you would have seen one maiden walking by heru self. She was clad in a kirtle of Lincoln green, with a bodice laced down the front, of a dark grey material, which fitted closely to her graceful figure, while her wealth of light flaxen hair was almost hidden beneath a black velvet coif, made in the fashion of the day. Though her garments were plainly and simply made, yet they were of superior material, and stamped the wearer as being of a higher rank than the other village maidens. As she walked along by the side of the stream, she toyed with a flower, while her eyes were bent upon the ground in deep thought. Such was Ellice Kennedy, the only child of old Matthew Kennedy, the wealthy farmer of Amwell.

She was then about fifteen years of age, and her budding charms gave pro mise of a riper beauty. Nor was it alone hi her form and face that her attractions lay ; she was kind and good as she was beautiful, and many a poor cot in Amwell and the neighbouring village of Chadwell had been made brighter and happier by her visits and bounty. EUice was her father's right hand, and helped him in the accounts that he was com pelled to keep. Her education had been carefully attended to, and she had more knowledge than most maidens in her own class of life. Her thoughts, as she strolled by the stream, were of the morrow's pageant. Ellice Kennedy was to be the queen. She could not help feeling glad that she should have been chosen for the high honour, yet there was no pride mixed with this feeling of happiness, but rather a doubt whether she would be able to bear herself properly, and with the necessary dignity.

Her thoughts were brought to a sudden check by a voice at her elbow. I give you good morrow, sah maiden." She turned at the words, to find a youth standing by her side, who must have jumped across the small stream without her having perceived him. He was clad in the doublet and hose common to the times, but his bonnet was cocked with an air that spoke more of the town than the country. And such indeed was the case. Bichard Carter, son of Humfrey Carter, of Enfield, was one of the famed apprentices of London, serving his time with Master Marmaduke Rawden, clothworker, in Cheapside. At the present time he was on a visit to his uncle, Oliver Carter, who had a farm at Amwell. It was the same in those days as it is now. Young people from London were apt to look down upon their country relations, and Dick Carter was no exception to the rule.

Many and wonderful were the descriptions of his doings in London with which he entertained the more simple spirits of Amwell ; and though only twenty-one miles, as the crow flies, divided the two places, there were not many of the villagers who had been there ; so if he did happen to draw the long-bow now and then, he stood in little fear of contradiction. If Dick took the trouble to cut a dash in the eyes of the boys and young men, he was twice as assiduous to stand well in the good graces of the maidens, and, as a general rule, he gained his object. They were interested and amused at his descriptions of the Lord Mayor's Shows, and the dresses of the ladies, and of the feastings and festivities when the Court was at the Tower of London. Further than this, they were taken by his manner. He had a certain impudence which was not possessed by tlieir companions of the village, and while they were half-afraid of him, they were, at the same time, attracted by him, But it was to Elhce Kennedy that he chiefly paid his court. b When she was present, he had eyes for none save her ; when she was away, he amused himself and his own vanity with the others.

Dick Carter was not an attractive-looking youth, in spite of all the care he bestowed upon his person. He had small, beady eyes, set very close together, high cheek-bones, and thick, sensuous lip, while his mouth gave him an expression of cruelty. Added to these defects, there was an air of conceit and self-satisfaction about Richard Carter. Ellice was startled at the sudden greeting, and for a moment stopped, and then, with a bow, would have passed on in silence. But this was not at all what Dick intended. He was unaccustomed to being slighted, and addressed her again : "And why is it, Mistress Ellice, that I find you alone? May I flatter myself that you expected me ?" " Nay, sir," replied Ellice, as a flush of crimson mounted to her brows ; " no such thought entered my head. Had it done so, rest assured you would have found me with the others, to whom I will now return."

"Nay, nay, not so fast, I prithee. Why would you avoid me?" " Sir, it is not modest for a young girl to walk alone with a man that is but an acquaintance, nor would my father like it. I pray you, suffer me to pass ;" for Dick had taken up his position directly in front of her. " And do you never do anything of whicii your father disapproves ?" continued he, taking no heed of her request. " Sir, that is a question which concerns you not." " As you will, mistress ; but I cannot let you go so soon. Let us walk to yon hillock, where we can sit while I tell you of the last tournament held in Moorfields." "Nay, sir, I will not go. I pray you once more, let me pass. I would none of your company, and 'tis cowardly to force it upon me thus." " Heyday, heyday, but you speak strongly, maiden, and thy coyness is well feigned ; but we London apprentices are quick at reading damsels' ways and know how oft with them ' Nay ' means ' Yea,' and ' Away with ye ' ' Come on.' " " Sir, I would no more of this.

Let me pass, else I will call for help." Dick now began to perceive Ellice was in earnest, and that his advances were refused. Coming close to her, he caught her round the waist and attempted to kiss her, at the same time saying : " Well, then, mistress, I will take toll for permitting thee to go." Elhce for the moment was able to frustrate his attempts and cried for help, and quickly that help arrived. Dick felt himself seized, lifted bodily from the ground, and the next moment he was floundering on his back in the stream. He quickly scrambled out and up the bank, to see Ellice sobbing on the shoulder of a youth of about eighteen years of age, who was supporting her with his arm round her waist. " Was that you, WTill Lewyn, who played me this knavish trick ?" " Yes, Dick Carter, I trow it was ; and, should you wish it, I will repeat it, for right well dost thou deserve it."

" It was a brave feat to catch an adversary from behhid and unawares." " Not so brave, methhiks, as to molest and insult a defenceless maid." " Thou saucy springal, I'U learn thee to meddle with a London apprentice." " As you wiU," rephed young Lewyn, seatmg EUice on the grass. " Now I am at your service. But, cousin Dick, I would have you know I have no wish to quarrel with thee further. Yet, if thou force me, I shall again throw thee into the stream." "Brave words," replied Dick, with a sneer; "but do it. Thou wilt not catch me unprepared this time." The words were hardly out of his mouth ere he again found himself on his back in the water, for WiU Lewyn, seehig his chance lay in immediate action, had rushed at him, caught him by the belt and coUar, and ere Dick had time to catch hold of him, had lifted him and thrown him mto the stream.

Agam Dick scrambled out, and tearing the weeds from before his eyes, rushed at WUl hke a tiger, without saying a word. For several minutes the boys wrestled and fought together in a tight embrace, dealing blows as they saw opportunity. Dick was a head the taUer, but WiU appeared to possess remark able strength and agihty. At length they separated, as if by mutual consent, and stood panting some yards apart. " Oh, WiU, -and you, Richard Carter, cease this fight. Re member ye are cousins. Shake hands and forgive." And as she spoke, EUice rose and came towards them. At her words, WiU Lewyn held out his hand towards Dick and would have spoken, when the other sprang at him as fiercely as before, and the next instant they were again strug gling together. This bout was not so long as the former one, for WiU, seizing an opportunity, dealt Dick a blow on the chest that knocked him backwards on to the grass.

As he raised himself, his hand grasped a stake that was lying on the ground where he feU, and, sprhiging up quickly, he dealt WUl a blow on the side of the head with it, that stunned him, and then, throwing it aside, exclaimed, " There, young coxcomb, that will teach thee manners," and ran across the meadows in the direction of the village. When Ellice saw Will faU, she rushed to him, and, kneeling beside him, raised his head, whUe she endeavoured to staunch the blood that was flowing with her handkerchief. She was just about to caU for help, when she was aware of a gentleman standing beside her. He was tall, and seemed about fifty years of age ; his hah was grey, and he wore a pohited beard and moustache in the prevailing fashion. His face had a kindly expression, and he was clad in fashionably cut garments of black velvet, puffed and slashed With white satin, while from his shoulders hung a short velvet cape, trimmed with sUver braid.

His bonnet was adorned with a white ostrich feather fastened by a jewel, and at his side hung a rapier and dagger. " As foul a blow as I ever saw dealt," he exclaimed, bending over Will ; " but, God be praised, there is less harm done than was intended ! You may be proud of your champion, maiden, for he hath earned your gratitude gallantly. Run and dip thy kerchief hi the stream while I hold his head. He will soon come to." Ellice did as she was bid, and before she had got back Will had opened his eyes, and was staring about in a dazed fashion. " Art better ?" inquired the gentlemen, as he wiped his brow with the wet kerchief. "Yes, sir. But what happened? Why am I lying here? Where's Dick ?" THE NEW RTVER. " He dealt thee a craven blow with a staff, that well-nigh cracked thy brainpan, and he is now fled."

" Oh, Will," exclaimed Elhce, " I fear thou art sorely hurt, and for me!" " It is nothing, Ellice ; I am better already, though some what dizzy. StiU, with thy help, I can walk home." " Nay, my boy, lean on me. I am gohig towards the village, and am glad to help thee ; for I saw the fight from the commencement, and admired thy behaviour. Thou didst deserve a less teacherous foe. But teU me thy name." William Lewyn, an please you, sh. Lewyn — Lewyn ! I know not that name round here." He lives with his uncle, Oliver Carter, sh," said Ellice. " Carter," said the gentleman, unfolding a roll of parchment which he had carried under his arm, and which the young people could see was a map of the village and surrounding country. " He owns land here, methinks ?" Yes, sh, we are on it now." And what might your name be, damsel ?"

Elhce Kennedy, an please you, sir !" Oh ! Daughter of Matthew Kennedy, yeoman ?" The same, sh. Do you know my father ?" But by name, EUice. Yet I trust we shaU be better acquainted shortly." WhUe they had been talking, they had neared the viUage, and were now opposite OUver Carter's farm. " This is my uncle's home, sh," said Will. " I pray you come in and rest. My uncle would take it Ul did you not let him thank you for your kindness to me." " Tut, boy, 'tis nothing. But I would have a word or two with thy uncle. I will come." "Ellice," said Will, "wilt thou show this gentleman in, while I seek Uncle Oliver in the barn ?" " Nay, Will, I shall go ; thou art not well enough." And then, turning to their companion, she said : " What name shall I tell him, sir?" "Master Hugh Myddelton, of Basinghall-street, London."

Chapter II. Master Myddelton's Interview With Oliver Carter

Will Lewyn conducted Master Myddelton into the house, and, while they waited the arrival of Oliver Carter, the stranger plied him with a multitude of questions respecting the village of Amwell and the spring which was the source of the stream beside which they had met. At length Oliver Carter entered the room, followed by Elhce. " God save you, sh," said he, bowing to Master Myddelton. " And you," replied the other, holding out his hand, which the farmer shook, although with an ah of deference. " I pray you pardon my intrusion ; but your nephew would not allow me to pass without resting a while." " And he did right, sh. Will is a good lad, and knows my wishes. But, boy " — turning to WiU — " what ails thy head ? 'tis bleeding." " 'Tis nothmg, uncle ; a scratch I got." " Nay, Master Carter," interposed Myddelton, " 'tis the result of an encounter in defence of yon little maid, and would never have been received had the laws of chivalry been observed ;" and the city gentleman then gave an account of the affair from the beginning, paying well-merited praise to the part played by Will. myddelton's interview with carter. 11 Ohver Carter listened in sUence tiU he had concluded, and, patting Will on the shoulder, said : " WeU done, lad.

You did right to take the part of the weak against the strong ; but I should have been better pleased had thine adversary not been thine own cousin. But, there, go with Elhce, and get old Margery to give thee some of her salve, and to-morrow thou wUt be as weU as ever." The boy and ghl having left the room, Ohver continued : " My heart misgives me for my nephew Dick. He is a cross-grained, ill-favoured loon, and, I fear me, wUl ne'er do himself nor his kinsfolk credit. And now, sir, in what way can I be of service to you ? Yet first let me beg you wiU take up your quarters here as long as you remain in these parts." Master Myddelton made some demur, but eventually gave way, and a man was sent to the King's Head Inn, in the village, to bring his horse and saddle-bags. Matters having been arranged, the conversation was renewed by Master Myddelton, who, before stating the object of his visit, said : " Master Carter, in what I am aboiitto tell thee, I must trust to thine honour to reveal no word of it to Uving soul."

" Sir, I wiU swear — " " No need of that, friend. Thy word is sufficient for me, for thy face tells me thou wilt not belie thy word." And then he proceeded to unfold the project he had in his head — namely, to carry the waters of the springs that rose at AmweU and ChadweU to a large pond or lake in the north part of London, and from thence to distribute them, by means of pipes, through the various streets to the different houses. At first, Ohver Carter was inclined to treat the idea as folly. How could the water be carried twenty-one miles over valley and hill ? To let it run through pipes beneath the streets was a wUd enough undertaking, but to carry it to London was an impossibility. " Nay, Master Carter, I cannot declare that it shall be done, for my surveys are not, as yet, completed ; but should they turn out as I expect they will, so much faith have I in the venture, that I presently propose to offer to the Lord Mayor, aldermen, and commons of our city of London, as sembled in Common Council, to proceed, perfect, and carry through the undertaking at my own cost and charges, pro vided they shall make over to me the various powers and liberties granted to them under two several Acts of Parlia ment made in the third and fourth years of the reign of our Sovereign, King James I. (whom God preserve), to bring a fresh stream of running water to the north parts of the city of London, from the springs of ChadweU and Amwell, and other springs in the County of Hertford."

" Well, sir, you must know your own business best ; but, I am fahi to confess, to me it seemeth an ill-advised under taking, and little likely to succeed, or to brmg anything but ruin on the originators." " So, so, Master Carter. I wonder not at thme opinion ; but remember thou hast not studied the matter as I have, and as I must do e'er I bhid myself to undertake it." " 'Tis true ; but if thou wUt be guided by me, thou wilt have nothing to do with it. Thou hast the river Thames, they tell me, in London, and what more canst thou wish for ? It is flying in the face of Heaven to turn rivers and streams where it was never intended they should go. Thou art a goldsmith by trade. Stick to thy business, and meddle not with the works of God, lest he punish thy presumption." MYDDELTON' S INTERVIEW WITH CARTER. 13 " But, good Master Carter," continued Myddelton, smiling at the narrow-mindedness of the old man, " the work I pro pose to undertake, ay, and to carry through, wUl benefit thousands and thousands of God's creatures ; and were I not well assured it would have His blessing, I would not dare to undertake it.

But our talking on the matter wUl neither make nor mar it. My purpose is fixed, and perseverance in a good cause can do much. AU I ask thee is that thou wilt keep my secret for the present, and when I shall seek it thou wilt give me such information as lies in thy knowledge ; and, lastly, that when I have brought the waters of your spring to London, you will come and see them rush into their new basin." " I promise, but methinks there is small chance of my being called upon to fulfil that pledge. And now, sir, will you not like to rest awhile and cleanse yourself from dust before supper is served ? for in the country we keep early hours, and to-morrow the lads and wenches wUl want to be up before the sun to deck the maypole." Master Myddelton thanked his host, and followed him to an upper room, where he found his saddle-bags had been un packed and his things laid ready for use, and from the wmdow of which he could see the little stream, on whicii so much depended in his eyes, wandering through the fields at the foot of the hill.

As he rested and thought over the events of the day, another idea came into his head, and he determined to speak to Oliver Carter on the matter that evening. His reverie was broken by Will Lewyn, who came to summon him to supper. On descending, he found the whole household, master and ser vants, assembled round the table hi the dhiing-hall, waiting his arrival, and taking his place at the right hand of his host, who asked a blessing, the meal commenced. Oliver Carter had been many years a widower, and an old servant, named Margery, acted as his housekeeper. There was one place vacant at the table — that which had recently been filled by Dick Carter. Oliver noticed the gap, and made inquiry of the servants ; but they could tell him little more than that they had some of them seen Master Richard return to the house during the afternoon, and shortly afterwards leave it again, clad in a different suit of clothes, and with a bundle under his arm.

WiU Lewyn seemed completely restored, and was seated hi his usual place, on the left of his uncle. Soon after the supper was removed, Oliver sent Will off to bed, and the two men were left alone. Master Myddelton lost no time hi broaching his subject, and inquired of Oliver what were his plans with regard to the future of Will Lewyn, and whether he intended bringing him up as a farmer. " That was my intention, sir. But I fear it will not be carried out, for Will shows no liking for the calling. His mind is far more set on learning and figures than on the breedhig of cattle and the growing of crops." " Well, Master Carter," said Myddelton, when the old man had finished, "it is small good binding a boy to a calhng he has no taste for." " That is true ; but what am I to do ?" " Let him come to me.

I have taken a fancy to the lad, and if you and he are both agreeable, I -will have him bound to me as apprentice in the goldsmith trade. And rest assured, Master Oliver, that when his term is out, does he but behave himself properly, as I have every hope that he will, I shaU not MYDDELTON 'S INVERVIEW WITH CARTER. 15 lose sight of him ; and, without conceit or pride, I would have you know, friend, that Hugh Myddelton's name hath already some weight, and, please God, it shall shortly be trebly as well known as it is at present." " Kind sir, you are too good to us. Your generosity and kindness of heart make you forget that we are almost strangers to you, and have no claim on either your purse or time." "Enough, Master Ohver. You have heard my proposal. Do not give me your answer to-night, but think the matter over, and then to-morrow, should you see fit, we will mention it to the lad."

" As you will, sir ; but under any circumstances, methinks it were only right to inform you of the lad's history before you make the offer. It may alter your decision." " Nay, Master Carter, I judge the lad for himself, and not his forefathers, be they good or bad. Still, I would fain know more of him, and will, therefore, gladly hear you." " Know, then, sir," continued Ohver, " that my father had three children, my elder brother Humfrey, myself, and my sister Joan. She was some years younger than I, and was my father's pet. We all spoiled her, and she grew up a wayward maiden. My mother died when Joan was but two years old, and she therefore lost the benefit of a mother's guidance and advice. WThen Humfrey was twenty-four years of age he married, and my father bought him the Lowmoor Farm, at Enfield, as his portion, stating that he should, on his death, leave this farm on which we now are, to me and to my children, and in case I died without issue, it was to go to my sister Joan and her children ; and, lastly, should she leave none, my brother Humfrey and his children would inherit it.

At the time my father spoke of this arrangement, he doubtless intended saving a marriage portion for my sister. My sister was in her nineteenth year, when a company of players came to the village, on their way to London, and played to us in the hm yard. Among their number was a wrell favoured young man, of the name of Walter Lewyn, and, as it so feU out, he was taken ill here, and my father had him removed to this house, where my sister nursed him. But ill did he repay the shelter and care bestowed upon him, for he stole my sister Joan. As you may conclude, sir, my father was sorely angered, and forbade the names of either of them to be mentioned in his hearhig. And yet, methinks, in his heart he suffered but few bitter thoughts towards her to find a place. For, when he shortly afterwards died, I found he had not stricken her name from his testament, and, therefore, as you will have perceived, should I die without issue, her heirs are next entitled to this farm.

" But did she leave any heirs ? And this, sir, is a question I cannot answer. " From the day she left my father's house with Walter Lewyn, I never saw my poor sister again. Where she went to I never knew. She was dead to us. She made no effort to see us, or to pray for pardon. Whether Lewyn prevented her, or whether her pride forbade her, I know not. " Fourteen years ago come next Michaelmas, an old dame knocked at my door and asked to see me. She had with her a child of about two years of age, and, on my seeing her, handed me a scrap of paper, which I will show you ;" and Oliver left the room for a few minutes, returning with a piece of paper, which he handed to Myddelton, saying, "Read it for yourseH, sir." MYDDELTON'S INTERVIEW WITH CARTER. 17 Myddelton read as follows : — " To my Father, or Brother Oliver,— For ye love of God, pardon.

My desire is so great to see you and seek it myself, but I fear me Heaven will not permit it. I am dying. To your great love I commit ye child. Visit not his mother's and father's sin on him. Seeke not to know more. Had God granted me strength, [ would have " — The writing, which was cramped and shaky, ended abruptly, as if weakness had overtaken the writer. Myddelton handed the paper back to Carter, saying : " And found you not out aught else ?" " But little, sh. The child was he you now know as WUliam Lewyn. But whether he has a right to bear that name God knows. I questioned the dame who brought him, and all I could learn was that the woman and the child had come to her house at Edgware ; that the woman was fast sink ing, and that she died soon after writing the letter, having given her directions to brhig it with the child, who was named William, to Amwell ; that she left with the dame sufficient money to pay for her burying, but she gave no intimation of her name or station, beyond what is contained in that letter.

Nor even did she say whence she had come. I questioned the dame closely, and her description of the woman tallied with that of my sister Joan ; but, to my sorrow, she said that there was no wedding-ring on her finger ; and yet, forsooth, Joan might have sold it, being in want. Nay, I know not what to think. The child remembered nothing, and could afford me no help. I strove to trace my sister back from the time she reached Edgware ; but, alas ! all was in vain, and I was no wiser at the finish than at the commencement. And whether the chUd was born in lawful wedlock I cannot say. Since that time he has been with me, and, my wife being dead, and I having no children, it is my purpose that he should take this c farm after me. I have mformed my brother Humfrey fuUy of the matter, and he is of the same mind as myself, saying, Dick being his only chUd will have sufficient without looking to me for more, and therefore my brother wUl not lay claim to the land, should he survive me.