Ovingdean Grange by W. Harrison Ainsworth

“Learn, then, that my order would not have been executed,” Stelfax replied, with a derisive laugh. “‘Twas but a device to lure thee from thy secure retreat, and it has succeeded. Ho! ho!”

“Alas! unhappy boy, why did you come forth?” groaned the old Cavalier. “Your retreat, you see, was not suspected.”

“No, in good sooth it was not,” Stelfax said. “Having myself searched the burrow and found it empty, I did not suppose it would be again occupied; nor can I conceive how the young man and his companions found access to it, unless they came down the chimney. Ah, I have hit upon the way taken, I find!” he exclaimed, perceiving a smile cross Ninian’s countenance. “Possibly, if you had remained quiet, you might have got off,” he added to Clavering; “but it is too late to think of that now.”

“It is not too late to sell our lives dearly,” the young Cavalier cried, brandishing his sword with the only arm capable of wielding the weapon. “You, John, will stand by me—and you also, Ninian?”

“To the last!” they both responded.

“Oh! that I had my trusty sword in my grasp!” added John Habergeon.” I would quickly cut a way through them.”

“Give fire if they stir!” Stelfax shouted to the troopers.

And the carabines of the Ironsides were levelled at the young Cavalier and his companions.

“I am the cause of your destruction. It is meet I should die with you,” cried Dulcia, still clinging to Clavering.

“Hold!” thundered Stelfax to his followers. “That damsel must not be injured. Upon them, and disarm the young man!”

“It is needless,” cried Clavering, throwing down his sword. “I yield myself a prisoner.”

“‘Sdeath! captain, wherefore did you yield?” John Habergeon grumbled. “Why not let us fight it out? We can but die once.”

“And never better than now,” added Ninian.

“It is useless to struggle against destiny,” Clavering cried.

“Ay, it is quite evident that Providence—or, as you profanely say, Destiny—is against you and your party,” Stelfax observed. “The Lord has declared himself on the side of those who observe his commandments. Remove these men!” he added to Delves.

At the word, the troopers surrounded the prisoners, none of whom offered any resistance, though both John Habergeon and Ninian eyed their captors fiercely. Dulcia, however, still clung despairingly to Clavering, while Delves sought, though with much forbearance, to remove her.

“Farewell, Dulcia!” Clavering cried, straining her to his heart. “This is my last embrace. We shall meet no more on earth.”

“Must we part thus!” she exclaimed, distractedly. “May I not go with you?”

“Your presence would only distract his thoughts from preparation for the death he will speedily have to encounter, damsel,” the captain of the Ironsides remarked. “His life is justly forfeited for treason and rebellion against the Commonwealth, and it were idle to hold out any hope of mercy. Assuredly, none will be shown him. Better for himself he had died, as I deemed he had, at Worcester.”

“Better, indeed!” echoed Clavering, mournfully.

“There must be an end of this leave-taking, damsel,” Stelfax cried, with fierce impatience. “Bid him farewell, and for ever!”

Dulcia made an effort to speak, but the words expired upon her lips, and she fell, insensible, into Clavering’s arms.

“Give her to me, and move on,” cried Stelfax, advancing to take the fainting maiden from him.

“Off!—touch her not!” cried Clavering. “Here, sir, take her,” he added to Mr. Beard, who came up at the moment.

Sad was it to see the inanimate girl consigned to her father—sad to behold Mr. Beard’s agonized countenance—sadder yet to mark Clavering’s look of utter despair as he so relinquished her.

Colonel Maunsel appeared as if thunderstricken—almost unconscious of what was passing around him. He had sunk, in a heavy, despairing, listless state, into a chair; and it was only when the prisoners were being led forth by the guard that he roused himself,

“Farewell, my dear father,” said Clavering, pausing, and regarding him piteously.

“What say’st thou, my son?” the old Cavalier rejoined, passing his hands over his eyes to clear his vision. “Where goest thou?”

“To my last fight,” Clavering replied, “where I trust I shall comport myself as courageously and as well as our martyred king did upon the scaffold.”

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