Ovingdean Grange by W. Harrison Ainsworth

“Assuredly not,” Stelfax replied. “Remove what you please, colonel. But what you do must be done in my presence, or in the presence of Sergeant Delves.”

“I find I am indeed a prisoner,” sighed the colonel, “since my every movement must needs be watched.”

“Recollect that you yourself render this rigour necessary,” Stelfax rejoined; “and thank me that I deal not more harshly with you. For you, fair damsel,” he added to Dulcia, “you are at liberty to retire to your own apartment, if you are so minded. But forget not that you are a prisoner to the house; and if summoned to my presence, fail not in prompt attendance. Master Beard, you can go with your daughter—on the same conditions.”

Not venturing to remain after this dismissal, Dulcia and her father reluctantly, and full of misgiving, withdrew.

Colonel Maunsel hoped that he might have been left alone within the chamber for a few minutes, and so snatch an opportunity of communicating with those within the hiding-place; but this being denied him, he would fain have tarried within the room. But here again his wishes were defeated, for Stelfax soon afterwards signified to him, in a tone that left no alternative but compliance, that he might retire. The only favour he could obtain was permission to send Martin Geere for such articles as he might require for the night. This accorded, he withdrew.

It was not without considerable trepidation that old Martin executed his master’s orders; and, on returning to the library, whither the colonel had repaired, the old serving-man reported that Stelfax had caused a great wood fire to be lighted, before which he was comfortably seated—a piece of intelligence which did not tend to mitigate the old Cavalier’s anxiety, since it decreased the chances of his son’s escape.

Deeply did Colonel Maunsel now regret that he was deprived of the assistance of John Habergeon, whose shrewdness might have helped him at this fearful emergency. But John was a prisoner as well as Clavering; and as to poor old Martin Geere, he was so bewildered as to be utterly incapable of lending efficient assistance. Resignation, therefore, was all that was left to the old Cavalier. He tried to calm himself, but in vain. Suspense and anxiety quite overmastered him, and reduced him at last to a state of almost stupor.

If the colonel was plunged into the depths of gloom and despondency, Dulcia and her father were scarcely less miserable. In vain the good clergyman sought to console his daughter. His arguments fell upon deaf ears. The poor damsel’s faculties were be-numbed by terror, and for some time she scarcely gave a token of consciousness—all the efforts of her father and Patty Whinchat failing to rouse her.

And now to glance at the Ironsides. As may be supposed, the troopers were by no means displeased by the information that they were to pass the night at the Grange. Like true soldiers, they knew right well when they were in good quarters, and were in no hurry to depart. The supplies of the larder and the buttery, notwithstanding the large demands made upon them, were by no means exhausted; and if this stock of provisions should fail, there were sides of bacon, hams, and cheeses in reserve within the store-room—while poultry and pigeons in any quantity could be had from the farmyard. Ale and wine were unstinted. Yet with all this indulgence there was no relaxation of discipline. The sentinels were changed every hour, and constant and strict watch was kept at all the points of the house.

It being the object of the household to keep their unwelcome guests in good burnout, everything was done to promote this object. Accordingly, Giles Moppett, Elias Crundy, with the cook and the scullion-wenches, were unremitting in their efforts to please the redcoats, whom Moppett privately declared to be as ravenous as wolves, and as thirsty as camels. On their part, the Ironsides did not give way to any great licence, and took care not to drink to excess, but they smoked incessantly, and made the whole house reek like a tavern with the fumes of tobacco. They went about where they listed, without displaying much respect for the persons they encountered. Thus, three or four of them, smoking of course, entered the library where the unhappy colonel was seated, and, regardless of his looks of anger and disgust, continued to puff away at their pipes as they leisurely examined the portraits on the walls, or other objects that attracted their attention, passing unseemly comments upon them. One of them—it was Helpless Henly—taking up the Eikon Basiliké, tore the book asunder in a rage, and flung the fragments into the fire. Besadaiah Eavestaft and Tola Fell intruded themselves in the same way upon Mr. Beard, and one of them being a Fifth Monarchy Man, and the other a Muggletonian, they sat down, and sought to enter into a controversy with him. Doubtless, Dulcia, who withdrew with Patty, on the appearance of the two troopers, into an inner apartment, would have been subjected to like annoyance, but that Captain Stelfax had given express orders that her privacy should be respected.