“And have you the heart to act thus against those who have never offended you, inhuman man? Have some pity for them.”
“You have no pity for me, damsel. You care not how much I suffer. Now hear my fixed determination. Either consent to become my wife, or I will use the means of vengeance placed in my hands.”
“Give me till to-morrow for consideration,” Dulcia replied.
“I will grant the time you require, on your solemn promise that you will neither give warning to Clavering, nor mention aught that has passed between us to your father, or to any other person.”
“I give the promise you exact,” she rejoined.
“Enough. To-morrow I shall expect your answer—here, at the same hour. Till then, farewell!”
Released from his gripe, the terrified damsel instantly made her escape.
“I am bound by no promise, villain,” muttered John Habergeon, who was ensconced behind the angle of the church tower, and had heard all that had passed, “and I will take means to defeat thy black design.”
III
SOME OF THE VEXATIONS EXPERIENCED BY A ROYALIST GENTLEMAN AT THE TIME OF THE COMMONWEALTH
A TROUBLESOME day was in store for Colonel Maunsel. He was in the library, seated in an easy-chair, meditating upon the “Eikon Basilike,” when Martin Geere entered, and, with a perturbed countenance, informed him that a state-messenger was without, and desired instant speech with him. The visit boded the colonel no good, but he ordered the man to be admitted. The messenger, however, did not wait for permission to present himself, but followed close upon Martin. He was a tall, stern-looking man, having the appearance of a soldier, and carried a long sword by his side and a pair of large pistols in his belt. He made no salutation to the colonel, neither did he attempt to remove his broad-leaved hat from off his close-cropped head.
“What wouldst thou with me, thou unmannerly fellow?” the old Cavalier demanded, eyeing him with great displeasure.
“Thou hadst best show some respect to my order, though thou showest none to me,” the man coldly rejoined, taking a parchment from his girdle. “Be it known to thee, Wolston Maunsel, somewhile colonel in the service of the Man Charles Stuart, that by virtue of this order from the Council of State, thou art confined and restricted, on pain of imprisonment, within a limit of five miles of thine own dwelling.”
“How?” the colonel exclaimed. “Confined within a range of five miles!”
“The limit is large enough for a dangerous and plotting malignant like thee,” the messenger rejoined. “See thou exceed it not. But I have yet more to declare unto thee. Forasmuch as thy son, Clavering Maunsel—”
“Ha! what of him?” the colonel cried, unable to conceal his agitation.
“—being charged with high treason against the Commonwealth, and a warrant having been issued for his apprehension, in order that he may be brought before a court-martial, in virtue of a commission from his Excellency General Cromwell, this is to give thee notice, that if thou shalt harbour thy said son Clavering, or lend him aid so that he escape, and the ends of justice be thereby defeated, thou thyself, and any of thy house who may act under thee, will incur the penalties of high treason. Thou art warned, and a like warning will be delivered to thy whole house.”
So saying, the man strode towards the colonel, laid down the parchment on the table before him, and, turning on his heel, departed.
Colonel Maunsel remained for some time, half stupefied, with his gaze fixed upon the warrant. At length he took it up, and after glancing at it, dashed it down with a burst of passion. His wrath, however, gave way to feelings of alarm, when he learnt from old Martin Geere that, prior to his departure, the state-messenger had collected the household together, and informed them that if they aided in concealing their young master, now or hereafter, they would be severely punished.
“But your honour need have no fear,” the faithful old fellow said. “They all believe the captain is gone; but if they knew he was hidden in the house, they would endure torture rather than betray him.”