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Crown and Sceptre: A West Country Story, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 51. Greetings After Long Years |
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_ CHAPTER FIFTY ONE. GREETINGS AFTER LONG YEARS During the month which followed Sir Godfrey's escape, the forces of the Parliamentarians achieved success after success, Colonel Forrester and his son being despatched with a little column to the east two days later. The dilemma to Fred before starting seemed terrible, but just as he felt that there was nothing left for him to do but confess all he had done to his father, he encountered Samson. "Why, Master Fred!" he exclaimed, "you look as if you'd got the worries on you." "Worry? Why, man, we have to march almost directly, and those poor people in the cave are--" "What poor people? in what cave? Only wish I was one of 'em. Having it luscious, that's what they're a-having, Master Fred, sir. Chicken and eggs, and butter and new bread, and milk and honey, and nothing to do. Blankets to wrap 'em in, and cider and wine, and ladies to go and talk to 'em." "Samson, are you sure of this?" cried Fred, joyfully. "Wish I was as sure as all this human being cock-fighting was nearly over, Master Fred." "Then you've been over?" "'Course I have, sir. I aren't like the colonel, about here all these weeks, and never going home nor letting you go. I got leave this time, for I met the general, and told him how near I was to my garden, and how anxious I was about the weeds, and he laughed and give me a pass directly." "And my mother?" "Your mother, Master Fred? Why, I couldn't get to know about them in the cave for her asking me questions about the colonel and her boy! She would call you a boy, sir, though you think you're a man, and no more muscle in your arms than a carrot." "But the people in the cave, Samson?" "Don't I tell you they're all right, sir--right as right can be; and first chance there's going to be a boat round from Barnstaple to take Sir Godfrey and Miss Lil and my lady away across the sea to France, and Pshaw! I never heard the like of it; they're going to take that great rough ugly brother of mine with them. They're all right." Many weeks of busy soldiering followed, by which time the king's power was crushed, and the Parliamentary forces had swept away all opposition. Regiments were gradually disbanded, and the Forresters at last returned to the Manor, from which Colonel Forrester's stern sense of duty had kept him away, as much as the calls of his military life. "There, Samson," he said, smiling, as they rode home, "you may sheathe your sword, and sharpen your rusty scythe; while you, Fred--what are we to do with you? Send you back to school?" "No, father, I must be what I am--a soldier still," said Fred, proudly; "but I hope in peace more than in war." "Yes; we have had enough of war for years to come." The colonel drew rein that sunny afternoon as they were passing the ruined Hall, and Fred heard him sigh, but he forgot that directly after in his eagerness to get home; and soon after father and son were locked in turn in sobbing Mistress Forrester's arras. There was abundance to tell that night as they sat in the old, old room, where mother and son exchanged glances, each silently questioning the other with the eye as to whether the time had not come for telling all; but still they hesitated, till all at once Colonel Forrester exclaimed sadly-- "This is nearly perfect happiness--home and peace once more; but it is not complete. You say Lady Markham and her daughter left a month ago for France?" "Yes, dearest," replied Mistress Forrester. "Ah!" sighed the colonel, "I'd give all I have to know that mine enemy was saved from the horrors of that terrible evening." "Will you give your forgiveness, father?" said Fred, rising. "Forgiveness?" "Yes: to one who was somewhat of a traitor to his cause." "My boy! what do you mean?" cried the colonel; and Fred told all he knew, Mistress Forrester supplementing his narrative with a vivid description of how the fugitive Royalists had been helped into the cavern, and had then escaped by sea. The colonel rose, and stood staring straight before him, and then he slowly went to the door, signed to them not to follow, and they heard him go upstairs, where, in dread at last, Mistress Forrester followed, to find him on his knees. When, half an hour after, he returned to the dining-room, his face seemed charged, and there was a bright look in his eyes as if a weight had been lifted from his mind, while twice over his son heard him whisper softly--"Thank God! Thank God!" It was after years had passed, and various political changes had taken place, that one bright May day, bright as such days are sometimes seen in the west, a heavy carriage drawn by four horses, and attended by two gentlemen and a sturdy servitor on horseback, passed slowly up and down the hills along the road leading to the Hall. One gentleman was stern and grey-looking, the other tall and grave beyond his years, while, seated in the carriage were a careworn-looking lady and a beautiful, graceful-looking girl. As they neared the old entrance to the park, the gentleman ordered the coachman to stop, and himself opened the carriage door, after dismounting, and handed the ladies out on to the soft turf. "It is more humble for pilgrims to travel a-foot," he said, with a sad smile. "Do you think you feel strong enough to bear the visit?" The lady could not answer for a few moments. Then, mastering her emotion, she said, "Yes;" and, taking the speaker's arm, they were moving off, followed by the younger pair, the whole party looking like courtly foreigners, when, after tethering the horses to so many trees, and leaving them in charge of the coachman, the stout serving-man strode up to the elderly gentleman. "Would your honour let me have a look at my old garden once again?" "Yes, Nat, yes. Take a farewell look. It is a fancy to see the old place in ruins, and have an hour's dream over the past. Then we will say good-bye for good." The man touched his hat, and turned off through the plantation, while the party moved on slowly along the familiar old drive, the ladies, with their eyes veiled with tears, hardly daring to look up till they had nearly reached the great entrance to the fine old place, when they started at a cry from the younger man. "Father!" he cried. "What does this mean? This is your work--a surprise?" "Scar, my boy, no; I am astounded." For there before them, almost precisely as it was of old, stood the Hall, rebuilt, refurnished, bright and welcoming, the lawn, terrace, and parterre gay with flowers, all as if the past had been a dream, while at that moment Colonel and Mrs Forrester appeared with Fred, hat in hand, in the porch. Sir Godfrey Markham drew himself up, and his eyes flashed as he turned upon the colonel. "I see," he cried. "Usurper! Well, I might have known!" "That this was the act of an old friend to offer as a welcome when you should return," said Colonel Forrester, holding out his hand. Sir Godfrey looked at the extended hand, then in Colonel Forrester's eyes, and again round him in utter astonishment. "I--I--came," he faltered, "to--to see the ruins of my dear old home. How could I know that the man whom I once called friend--" "Till all those dreadful changes came, and set us wide apart. Yes, I heard you were coming down." "Godfrey! husband!" whispered Lady Markham; "can you not see?" "I am confused. I do not understand," he faltered, as he caught his wife's hand in his. "Lil, can't you shake hands with your old friend?" said Fred, as the tall graceful girl looked at him half pleased, half shrinkingly. "And your father has done all this, Fred?" said Scarlett, in an eager whisper. "Yes; I found him busy one day when I came home for a visit, and it has been his task ever since." "But--for Heaven's sake, man, be frank with me--he meant it for your home?" "Scarlett Markham, because my father differed from you in politics, and sided against the king, don't brand him as a cowardly miser. No; he said that some day Sir Godfrey would return, and that he would show him that he had not forgotten they once were friends." "Father, do you hear this?" cried Scarlett. "Colonel Forrester, is the old time coming back?" "Please God, my boy, now that the sword is to be beaten into a ploughshare. Godfrey Markham, I did this in all sincerity. Will you accept it from your enemy?" "No," cried Sir Godfrey; "but I will from my true old friend." And as, trembling with emotion, he grasped the colonel's hands, he turned to see Lady Markham in Mistress Forrester's arms. Meanwhile, a curious scene had been taking place at the back of the Hall, where Nat had directed his steps to lament over the weeds and ruin of the neglected place. He had walked on along familiar paths through the plantation to the back of the kitchen garden, passed through an old oaken gate in the high stone wall, and there stopped aghast. "Here, who's been meddling now?" he cried. "Who's been doing this?" For, in place of the ruin he had expected, he found everything in the trimmest order--young crops sprung, trees pruned, walks clean, everything as it should be; and, worse than all, a broad-shouldered man, looking like himself, busy at work with a hoe destroying the weeds which had sprung up since the last shower. Nat did not hesitate, but walked down the path, and at right angles on to the bed, where he hit the intruder on the chest with his doubled fist. "So it's you, is it, Samson?" "Yes, it's me, Nat," was the reply; and the blow was returned. "How are you, Samson?" said Nat; and he hit his brother again on the other side. "Tidy, Nat. How are you?" replied Samson, returning the blow. "You've got a bit stouter." "So have you." "Long time since we met." "Ay, 'tis." "Like this here garden?" "Middling." Each of these little questions and answers was accompanied by a blow dealt right out from the shoulder, sharp and short, till the men's chests must have been a mass of bruises. Then they drew back, and stared at each other. "Who told you to come and work in my garden?" said Nat at last. "Nobody; I did it out of my own head." "And pray why?" "Because I thought, if ever you came back, it would make you mad." "So it has. How would you like me to come and rout about in your garden?" "Dunno. Come and try." "Well, I would ha' put in that row o' beans straight if I did." "Straight enough, Natty; it's your eyes are crooked. Come back to stop?" "No; going back to furren abroad." "Then what's the good of my master building up the house again?" "What? Did he?" "Ay; came and see me doing up your garden as it had never been done up before, and went away and ordered in the workpeople." "Hum!" said Nat. "Ha!" said Samson. "Well, aren't you going to shake hands?" "Ay, might as well. How are you, Nat?" "Quite well, thank you, Samson. How are you?" "Feel as if I should be all the better for a mug o' cider. What says you?" "Same as you." "Then come on." And Nat came on. For peace was made, and though rumours of the next war at the Restoration came down to the west, those who had been enemies stirred not from the ingle-side again till Fred Forrester was called away; but Scarlett had become a student and a scholar, and the young friends met no more in strife. When they did encounter, and ran over the troubles of the past, it was with a calm feeling of satisfaction in the present, and the old war time as years slipped by seemed to them both as a dream. "Yes," cried Sir Godfrey, eagerly, as he laid his hand on Colonel Forrester's shoulder; "some day, with all my heart." "I am very glad," said the stern colonel, smiling at a group by the house where the ladies were seated, and Fred and Lil, so intent on each other's converse, that they did not perceive that they were watched. But other eyes had noted everything during the past year, and it was evident that the time would come when Fred Forrester and Scarlett Markham would be something more than friends. [THE END] _ |
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