“‘Twere a pity to lose a chance like this. If I happen to hit yon psalm-singing rook, ’twill be a good riddance, and little harm done, fegs!”
Unconscious of his danger, the Independent divine seemed anxiously bent upon preventing a collision between the opposing parties. Addressing himself to the Puritanical cottagers, over whom, as their minister, he naturally exercised great control, and specially to Morefruit Stone, as an elder, he enjoined them not to strike a blow unless they themselves were stricken; and his pacific efforts were seconded by Thomas Sunne, who seemed to labour under great alarm. Having succeeded in keeping the members of his flock quiet, Micklegift next addressed himself to Nehemiah, who boldly confronted the colonel and his clamorous attendants. The state-messenger had not budged an inch, but having drawn a second pistol from his belt, held it in readiness.
“Put up thy weapon, Nehemiah,” Micklegift said to him, “and cut not off any of these malignants in their sin. Leave them time for repentance and amendment. Perchance, they may yet be gathered into the fold.”
“How sayst thou?” Nehemiah exclaimed. “Wouldst have me allow the proclamation of the Parliament, whose officer I am, to be cast down and trampled under foot? Wouldst have me tamely stand by, and hear his Excellency the Lord-General Cromwell insulted by yon contumacious malignant? As spake Joshua the son of Nun—’O Lord, what shall I say, when Israel turneth their backs before their enemies?’—what shall I say unto the captain of our second Joshua when his mandates have been set at nought. Interpose not between me and these men of Ai.”
“I say unto thee again, put up thy weapon, Nehemiah,” the Independent minister rejoined; “for if thou take the life of this man, or the life of any of his followers, thou shalt not be justified. Make not of this peaceful dene a second Valley of Achor.”
Then seeing Colonel Maunsel draw his sword, as if about to lead his men to the attack, he stepped fearlessly towards him, and taking hold of his bridle, besought him to desist.
“Who art thou who wouldst stay me?” Colonel Maunsel cried, feigning not to recognize him.
“Thy friend, if thou wilt let me be so,” Micklegift rejoined, in a pacific tone, “who would fain save thee from the peril into which thou art about to rush. Have respect, I pray thee, for lawful and constituted authority. Join thy entreaties to mine, damsel,” he added to Dulcia, seeing that the colonel paid little heed to him, “and prevail upon this hot-headed gentleman not to bring certain destruction upon himself and others.”
There was a certain significance in Micklegift’s tone that, even in that moment, did not escape Dulcia, and she at once comprehended the jeopardy in which the infuriated old Cavalier’s rashness might place Clavering and her father. She therefore implored the colonel not to engage in actual strife with the Parliamentary officer and his supporters.
“I shall not come to blows with them till you are out of harm’s way, rest assured, girl,” the old Cavalier rejoined.
“Disperse your followers, Colonel Maunsel,” Micklegift continued, in a low tone, “and I will answer for it that the matter shall be amicably adjusted. Believe me, I counsel for the best.”
“Indeed he does,” Dulcia cried. “In this instance, at all events,” she added.
“What! dost thou, too, side with Puritans and rebels, girl?” the colonel cried. “Well, I own I have been over hasty,” he continued, returning his sword to the scabbard; “yet the knave gave me great provocation.” Then turning to his followers, he said, “I thank you, good fellows, for this display of your attachment, but I will not put it to further proof. Return to your occupations, all of you—except Eustace Saxby.”
Upon this, the throng around him moved off, though reluctantly, and with very dissatisfied looks; many of them turning round as they went to shake their fists at the Roundheads, or make other gestures of defiance. Observing Ninian linger behind, the colonel motioned him to depart.
“Must I go too, your honour?” the young falconer asked.
“Of a certainty,” the old Cavalier answered. “Yon pestilent varlet will be sure to take exception to thee.”