His Wife by Force: in Cromwell's days [A story.] By Nell Ycul

Chapter I

' ' Had we not better far be lifeless dust And buried out of sight, than crawl along As reptile slaves — a miserable life, trod down By placemen fools, and then unpitied die, Unhonoured to the last ? " Much the same as the thirtieth of January may awake the sleepers of " Merry England " in our time, did the same day of the month dawn upon this sea-girt land rather more than two hundred years ago. A pale primrose radiance tinged the steely blue of the cloudless sky ; the glimmering stars began to pale, as the monarch of day rose, slowly and silently from out of the long Winter night, higher and upward until the snow-capped B hills and white-robed valleys glittered with Nature's. countless diamonds. But during the Winter days, only for a few brief hours, is " Excelsior " engraven on the fleecy banners of the celestial king ; he seems to grow weary of the flowerless shores of the North, and makes all speed to pass along to fairer scenes.

As it is now, so it was then — the day was born, lived its short hours, then glided away, and was buried in the great grave of the irrevocable past. But though the thirtieth of January, 1649, passed into oblivion, as has done many others before and since, where is the heart that does not thrill with varied emotions, when it remembers with what that cycle of time was freighted ? How it sank into eternity laden with an event which calls a blush to the cheek, that men calling them selves by the name of Christ, should have imagined " a need be" for so dark and cruel a deed ! But how otherwise, it may be asked, could the oppression and intolerance, then rampant in the land, be stayed — while it was stirred into fiercer raging by those at its head — without sanctioning that act of severity which recorded on the page of history the wail of the orphan, bereft of a kind and loving father ?

It is not for us, after all this lapse of time, to decide so difficult a question ; only let us take warning and remember from the past, that oppression brings on the oppressor a sure and relentless punishment, which is usually inflicted by the oppressed. Looking back through history we see that God invariably permits it to be so. Let us imagine the short January day nearly over, on which the ill-advised, mistaken Charles Stuart expiated his mistakes in so terrible a manner ; darkness like a pall brooding over the sorrowing country ; and we ourselves one of the living, bustling throng who took part in the events of that period. The evening then with us is to be passed quietly; miles away from the place of the mournful tragedy which had been enacted during its early hours, and had rendered still more unhappy many a home already rent by party strife and discord.

Far from the banquetting house at Whitehall — far from the mighty city on the Thames — in a sequestered and beautiful spot in the West of England, where the lovely Avon watered the valley, and not far from Bristol, stood a rambling, roomy house ; its walls moss-grown ; its mullioned windows richly ornamented by carving, and its oaken doors studded with huge nails, and strengthened by iron stanchions. A blazing log fire burned cheerily on the white hearthstone of the entrance-hall of Avonside, b — throwing a ruddy glow over the polished floor and panelled walls. A substantial dish of meat, with bread, and other more delicate viands, graced the spotless dining-board, evidently in readiness for an expected guest. On the deerskin in front of the fire lay a broad-chested hound, and beside him sat a girl, with soft, brown eyes, and rich golden hair> that fell in ripples to her waist.

Her distaff lay idly by ; one glance at her face showed that she was too full of anxious thought, too full of some expectancy, to do ought but wait as patiently as might be. Ever and anon, as she stroked the silky ears of her favourite, she placed herself in a listening attitude ; but no sound as yet had broken the complete stillness without. Presently, however, the dog moved uneasily, and then rose with a smothered growl. His mistress sprang to her feet. " Hist ! Dels, hist ! " she cried ; and both stood intently listening. A moment longer aud foot steps were distinctly audible. Then the girl dashed away the tears that for very relief were gathering in her eyes, saying : " He must not see these, Delfie ; 'twere but a sorrowful welcome after his long journey." Then Muriel Goldfinch, for such was the name of the young mistress of Avonside, heard the clanking of the huge latch of the outer door, as though the visitor at its portal would enter without ceremony.

She sprang to wards it, for it was barred, and pulling aside the silken folds of a large banner which served as a screen, drew back the heavy bolt. Again the latch was lifted by the unseen hand ; then a tall, slight, but manly form, enveloped in a fur cloak, and wearing a plumed hat, entered. The young cavalier lifted the fair girl who stood before him, to a level with his face, and im printed on her lips and cheeks fervent kisses. " God have thee in His keeping, sweetheart," he said, as he put her from him, and looked admiringly into her blushing face. " I devoutly thank Him, that He has had thee in His good care, these last troublous weeks. Ah ! Erton, I have suffered agonies of suspense. I feared for thy safety ; and it is already two hours past the time thy servant saidst thou wouldst arrive." ■' Poor little one, and thou hast watched alone!"

" Aye, dear ; my father spends most of his time in solitude. I fear me he is growing more heart sick : daily more weary in body and mind. But come to the fire, 'tis cold," and she led him down the long apartment, to a chair which had been placed in readiness some time ago. He threw himself down as though utterly spent. Muriel bent over him, and with her own hands unfastened the gold clasp of his ermine toga. " Why art thou so late ? " she asked, as she left a kiss upon his brow. " I almost feared thou wouldst not come this even, after all." " Nay, sweetheart, trust me to keep my appoint ments with thee; that is while it is possible; God only knows how long it will be so : I am later than I in tended ; but just as I was starting this afternoon, who should ride into Ashton Court yard but my father."

" Sir Henry Hubert home again ! Why, Erton, dear, methought you looked so sad, that I durst not ask e'en if it were well with him." " Yes, dear, he is at home once more, and he bade me give you his greeting." Though he tried to speak naturally and cheerily, Muriel's quick ear did not fail to detect that the voice of her betrothed had a ring of sadness in it, and that, in spite of his pleasure at being once more with her, he had a pre-occupied air, as though matters of sad import pressed heavily upon him. Poor girl, she did not guess that he brought sorrowful news of a personal character to both her and her father. Yet so it was, and as yet he felt quite unequal to the task of breaking it. It was this, rather than more public matters, which was troubling him, for the time present at least. " Tell me how it happens that he is at liberty once more.

Can it be that the King has escaped ? Does fortune again favour our cause ? " " Alack ! my Muriel, our own bonnie King lies e'en now a mangled corpse, while his vile murder ers are howling their canting hymns ; impiously ascribing to God's glory their unholy joy." " Poor King Charles ! " Muriel murmured. " So they have really murdered our merry-hearted, gentle King. Alas ! for his sweet children ; the fair Elizabeth, and little Prince Henry. Surely Cromwell, iron-hearted and cruel though he be, will not harm them ! " " No, I fear no personal hurt to the younger members of the Royal House. 'Tis said that Cromwell is a tender father himself, and loves all children in spite of his sternness. But it is undoubtedly well for the Prince of Wales and his brother that they are in Holland, beyond his reach.

He would not spare them ; or, rather, the extreme of his faction would not : for privately I do not believe Cromwell would have gone to such lengths, had he not been driven to it by the know ledge that suspicion attached itself to his actions. I feel sure, he himself would willingly have come to terms with the King. But I am one of a very few who attribute any desire for leniency or mercy on Oliver's part." " But thy father, Erton ; how does it befall that he is at Ashton Court, instead of prisoner with the other forty-one members of the House, Colonel Pride seized just before Charles's trial ? Belike the cravens have set them at liberty now that they know the master they would have served is beyond any earthly service." "Beshrew me, no: they have received no acquittal ; only three of them are at liberty.

My father and two others, prisoners in the same room, had the good luck to effect their escape." " How did they manage it ? Surely they will not be pursued ? " " Methinks they will, and in hot haste, too ; but my father, if all goes well, will be on his way to Holland before the morrow dawns. A vessel with a loyal captain lies now in the harbour await ing his embarkation. He stays only for certain papers, before he boards her. Very thankful I shall be, thou mayst be sure, Muriel, when he gets safely away, not for his sake only, but because the business he goes to transact is for the well-being of the country, and the Heir of the English Throne. In short it is " — and here the young man's voice sank almost to a whisper — " to negotiate with the Scotch nobles for the safe and proper reception of Charles II. to his own realm."

" But, Erton, to Scotland our late King owes his undoing. Did she not treacherously deliver him into the hands of his enemies, when he fled to her for safety ? " " Beshrew me ! it is true that the stain of such a deed must alway lie on loyal Scotland ; but, then, she speedily scught to redeem her mad act. The Duke of Hamilton, with his brave Scots, fought desperately to undo the evil she had wrought. Now, to make further reparation to the House of Stuart, she is foremost in desiring to place upon the throne of his fathers its exiled heir ; and desires without loss of time to have conveyed to Charles assurances of her readiness to take up arms on his behalf." " And is Sir Henry Hubert to be the envoy to our Prince ? " " He will be one, Muriel. God speed him." '• Aye, with all my heart. But, Erton, thou hast not yet told me how thy father escaped."

" 1 will tell thee what I know ; for we had not much time to talk of all that had befallen since we parted. Ever since their detention they had been watching for opportunities of escape. Not one, however, had presented itself until the night of Charles' condemnation, when all London was agog, some execrating, some applauding, the sentence Bradshaw had dared to pass upon his King. It came about through the partial inebria tie.n of their gaoler, who had heretofore proved himself a vigilant keeper. About dusk he came into their apartment — an empty house thou already knowest had been used for their prison — to bring lights ; and from various blunders, together with his unsteady gait, it was very apparent that he had been making free with the ale pot. Upon seeing his condition, my father quickly determined to make his imbecility the means of their escape.

To this end he engaged him in an animated discussion on that night's all-absorbing topic. Purposely agreeing with him, and flattering him upon one or two weak points, they soon managed to get the old man into a most jovial, careless condition of mind, and quite forgetful of the dignity of his position as keeper to three of Cromwell's enemies. Indeed, so skilfully did they pretend to be ail-but converted to the cause of the Parliamentarians, that the stupid old goat actually promised to go that very night and tell Cromwell himself what three powerful allies he had been the means of winning over to his cause. After much apparent rejoicing on the part of my father and his friends, at the hope they had of finding favour with him they craftily termed ' The great Protector of England's rights,' they •demurred a little at the propriety of intruding their cause upon the 'iron-sided ' champion at so late an hour.

So, after a little altercation, the portly, wheezing old Roundhead, agreed to wait until morning, ere he ventured to become their advocate with the indomitable Oliver. Bidding them not doubt his success on the following day, he was preparing to depart when my father hastily drew from his pocket a gold piece, and, poising it on his fore finger under the very eyes of the covetous old man, said : ' Could you get us a pot of good old brown ale, to drink to the health of our new master ? Here is more than enough to buy the best brewed ; the change you are welcome to keep; perhaps it will be acceptable to-night to treat some of your old cronies ; I judge it's a time of jollification amongst you ! ' The hypocritical old Puritan quickly grasped the money, and, with a friendly nod, prepared to make his retreat, all the while fumbling in his huge pocket for the key of the door that he had unwittingly left in the lock and was now safely deposited at the bottom of Sir George Walpole's pocket, for at a sign from my father he had quietly slipped it out of the key hole, while he and their drunken warder were conversing.

Of course, they all pretended to aid the hapless gaoler in his search for his lost key. The old man was in a strange dilemma, not daring to leave his prisoners at liberty to vacate their lodgings ; at the same time thirsting to dip his lips in the frothing tankard. Fearing lest he should seek assistance, though, had they7 known, there was no need for this alarm, everyone usually within call being away to take part in the excitement which prevailed all over the city. To prevent him doing that which might frustrate their plans, my father stealthily placed upon the floor, near the spot where the old warder had been standing, a key resembling the smuggled one, which he happened to have in his pocket ; the loss of which was of no consequence, as it belonged only to the door of the apartments he occupied previous to his capture on entering the House of Parliament.

Having no fear that the half-intoxicated man would detect any difference in the keys, and seeing him stand irresolute, looking first at one then at another of his prisoners, as though to ascertain whether they had been play ing him some trick, which, stupid as he was, he was sensible enough to know might prove anything but pleasant, my father proposed another search for the key. This time the supposed identical key was quickly found, and the relieved gaoler, with an air of gracious patronage, bade the knightly gen tlemen not to be impatient for his return, as perhaps he might call upon a lawyer friend, to hear more about Cooke's clever speech, and how he looked when he dared to say of the King ; ' I impeach him as a tyrant, traitor, murderer, and the veriest foe within these wide domains.' ' Pray don't hurry thyself, friend,' said Sir George, clasping tightly the precious instrument that was to effect their liberty ; ' we would rather wait for our ale, to ensure a lengthy and accurate account of this day's proceedings.' With a wave of the hand the old Roundhead closed the door, and applied the false key to the lock.

From the impatient jerk he gave it, it evidently did not act quite to his satisfaction ; but, doubtless, attributing its stiffness to a weakness in his own finger joints, which a mug of hot spiced ale would do much to strengthen, after another furious jerk and twist, the key slid from the hole, and the clumsy, uncertain steps of the un suspecting keeper were heard reverberating along the empty passages and down several flights of steps. Only so long as they imagined he had got safely away to some place of roystering, did my father and his friends remain voluntary prisoners. Having knelt to thank God for so far aiding them, also to beseech Him to grant them full deliver ance, they prepared to leave their dismal prison chamber. Everything seemed propitious for their flight. The night was fine — the moon at its full, rising brightly.

Hastily they arranged their plans ; though they feared not immediate pursuit, guessing well that their clownish warder, suspecting nothing, would certainly not return till he had spent the last halfpenny of the guinea in his possession. Finally, they disguised themselves in the garb of Roundheads ; then obtaining horses at different inns, were soon many miles from the riotous city." "And Sir Henry arrived home safely this after noon ? " asked Muriel. " Yes, he would have done so sooner had he not stayed at one or two places on his way, in order to ascertain the disposition of the people towards the Crown." " And with what result ?" " Ah ! sweetheart, to see and hear more of dis cord and discontent. He came home more fully impressed than ever that there are wrongs to right on either side — saddened indeed at the thought of all that is involved by such a state of confusion as now exists in this unhappy country.

Child, it is enough, methinks, to make a man almost hate his life to live in such times as these. To know that before peace can be restored he must shed the blood of fellow-countrymen ; that the swords of brothers and fathers must drip with each other's gore. How many happy homes have already been broken 'up by disagreement and hatred, arising from political differences. Sons, and daughters even, have left their parents' roof ; have ignored the faith they have been nurtured in, and for what end, but to add misery to misery, heart ache to heart-ache ? Alas ! how many more brave hearts have yet to bid a last farewell to all they love ; to go forth with sword in hand that they may, peradventure, restore peace. Would to God, Muriel, that you and I did not live in these turbulous days ; or, at least, I would that I could shield thee from pain anent this unhappy strife."

" Erton, what hast thou yet to tell me ?—some thing I trow that cannot be hidden." " Thou art right, sweetheart ; but it concerns thy father as well as thyself. Where is he ? " " Shut in the library. I have seen him but once since morn ; he has not broken his fast since yester e'en. When I urged him to eat, he said he could not, while murder was being done in high places. Erton, dear, he is ill, both in body and mind. I am often in terrible anxiety about him. Since Arthur joined the rebels he has been as one stricken. He was so passionately fond of my brother ; all his hopes were centred in him ; and no marvel, for he was so good, so true. He had been dedicated from his birth to the Church, as thou knowest ; and now he is aiding those who would abolish episcopacy from the land. Oh ! Erton, why could he not continue leal to the faith in which he was nurtured ?

" Dear, your brother was as thou sayst, both good and true ; do not seek to know why he acted as he did ; only be quite sure that his motive was right, though, mayhap, a mistaken one — and remember God judges for the good we would do, rather than for the evil of our misconceptions." " Poor father! I wish he could feel less keenly Arthur's divergence from the old formula. On'y yester e'en he said he would rather have laid him to rest, by his mother, than know that he is fighting against the Church and the King." " Muriel, God help thee ! Thy brave brother is for ever at peace — he makes one of the host above ; thou, nor thy father, need mourn for him any longer ; he is no more an erring mortal, but a redeemed and perfected saint." "Erton! Erton! what art thou saying? It cannot be that Arthur is dead ?

Surely there must be some mistake ? " " I trow not, Muriel, 'tis beyond doubt that thy brother has passed away. My father brought to day a packet which had been entrusted to my Lord Coningham to see delivered to the Dean, your father. It was sent to him by Fairfax, who wrote on the outer covering that it contained a farewell epistle from one of his young officers, Arthur Golfinch by name." " My father ! how will he bear this blow ? Erton, it must be broken to him gently. But tell me how and when he died. Strange, it may seem that I never thought of this, though the most likely thing to happen, surrounded as he was by danger. Father has watched for his return day by day. I have noted his restlessness, and knew why, at the c sound of every approaching footstep, he would wait expectantly. It was in the vain hope of clasping in his arms his repentant boy.

Ah ! Arthur, Arthur ! never more, never more wilt thou return to those who so sorely miss thee." " Hush ! Muriel I hear the Dean coming ; let us be calm, that we may break the news to him quietly, otherwise in his feeble state the shock may prove too much."

Chapter II

" Reason totters on her throne ; Last scene of all. That ends this strange, eventful history, Is second childishness — and mere oblivion." Shakespeare . A side door opened, and a slightly-built man, with silken beard, and stately mien, entered the apartment. As he came forward into the light, one could see that no common or meagre intellect had developed that finely moulded head ; that no small, uncharitable soul looked out from those deep, far seeing eyes. This was Roger Golfinch, the Very Reverend the Dean of Bristol. Both Erton and his daughter rose as he approached ; and neither failed to notice the wan and haggard look on his face, or the trembling of his limbs, as he took the chair that was placed for him. For a few moments, after the first greeting, no one spoke ; the hearts of all three were too overcharged with grief, and a dread sense of further trouble, to per mit of unnecessary words.

At last the Dean spoke, at first with an effort : " This has been a sorrowful day to me, as doubtless it has to all loyal subjects of our martyred King ; it has also been to me a day of heart searching as to whether any action of mine in the high office I hold in the Church has led to this criminal consummation. Personally, I trust that I may hold myself guiltless of participation in acts of intolerance and uncharitableness towards those who differ in religious matters. But I am grieved to the heart and utterly ashamed of what many of my colleagues in office have allowed in the name of our Holy Church. Though it is not for man to judge, I cannot but feel that God is permitting the present ecclesiastical humiliation as a punishment for deeds committed by some high in authority. Archbishop Laud has passed away, but, alas ! the result of the evil he wrought has not.

England is expiating it now in blood ; her King has paid a death penalty, and many more of her sons are doomed to lay down their lives, ere righteousness and Christian toleration are established. To-day I have been reading of the awful sentence passed upon Doctor Alexander Leighton, and I do not wonder that it rankles in the hearts of our opponents, inciting them to anger c— against the prelacy, which has become, in their estimation, nothing less than an anti-Christ. It makes me shudder to think that a man, holding so high and holy an office as Laud, could, while that vile sentence was being pronounced, thank God for it." " What was the sentence, and what was the crime, sir ? I do not remember either." " No, thou wouldst be too young to take heed of what was passing then ; but methinks thou wilt not easily forget when once thou art told of one of the most atrocious deeds ever done in the name of religion.

Know, then, that he, Leighton, published a pamphlet disclaiming against prelacy. He spoke of the bishops as men of blood — of a certainty he had just cause for this accusation not many weeks hence — he complained of the Church's per secution of those who differed from her, and of several other matters ; and concluded by saying, ' What a pity it is that so ingenious and tractable a King should be so monstrously abused by the bishops, to the undoing of himself and his subjects.' Though there was much truth in what he said, I will not deny that his language might have been more politic ; that he might have expressed himself with less rudeness and indecency, still the sentence passed upon him was out of all proportion to his offence, and cannot in any way be justified or condoned. It was that he should be com mitted to the prison of the Fleet for life, and pay a fine of ten thousand pounds ; that the High Commission should degrade him from his Mini stry ; that then he should be brought to the pillory at Westminster, while the Court was sitting, and be whipped ; after whipping, be set upon the pillory a convenient time, and have one of his ears cut off, one side of his nose slit, and be branded in the face with a double S.S., for a sower of sedition : that then he should be carried back to prison, and after a few days be pilloried a second time in Cheapside, and be there like wise whipped, have the other side of his nose slit, and his other ear cut off, and after all be shut up in prison for the remainder of his life."

"It seems incredible that such an act should have been sanctioned by our Church." •'Not by the Church, lad, but by those wearing her vestments, as wolves in sheep's clothing. Remember, the Church is a part of Christ, who during all His sojourn on earth never once sanctioned an act of intolerance. The body can not be untrue to its head ; therefore, we must not say these things are allowed by the Church, or we bring dishonour on the name of Christ. Al! who have been baptised in His name are members of His body, no matter what are their minor differences. The more I think of the unhappy contentions of the present day respecting religion, the more I feel the necessity of the charity which thinketh no ill, that beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Embued with this spirit we should be willing for each to practice unrestrainedly that which he feels most conducive to his soul's true weal.

We should cease to wish to dictate as to right and wrong in minor details ; and, as a consequence, we should not have brought to the front the things that worry and perplex us now to our sore undoing ; our homes and lives would no longer be rent apart and broken." " But, sir, there are other matters beside religious ones, arousing the spirit of contention amongst us. I am a true Royalist — a sincere lover of my King ; and, if need be, I will lay down my life for the Royal cause ; still I cannot be blind to the just causes of complaint our opponents have against us. Our late unfortunate King, like all of his imperious house, had much of the autocrat bred within him : and his advisers, doubtless, for purposes of their own, took pains to cultivate his overbearing and exalted ideas of the rights of Kings.