The Broken Font: A Story of the Civil War, Vol. 2 (of 2)Sherer, Moyle
History
The Broken Font: A Story of the Civil War, Vol. 2 (of 2)
Sherer, Moyle
Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
His end was only marked by one painful circumstance,--a last
weakness and prejudice, that clung to him even when the approach of
death was manifest, and eternity in view. He declared that he died in
true and perfect charity with all men, and with Francis and his father
more especially; but he made a request to Katharine, that she would
solemnly promise, under no change of circumstances whatever, to give
her hand in marriage to her cousin Francis. He confessed to her that,
two years before, he had intercepted a letter from him to her address;
in which, though he did not suppose them to be responded to by her,
his sentiments of love were set forth in plain and melancholy words.
Katharine gave the promise required with a low firm voice, and
received upon a pale and trembling cheek the cold kiss that thanked
her.
The Heywoods had remained in Oxford through both the sieges, and in
that city Sir Oliver died. Arthur Heywood, feeling himself by the loss
of his limb disabled for all future service in the field, had again
entered at his college, and prepared himself by diligent and cheerful
study for embracing the profession of the law, whenever the
distracted kingdom should be once more in a state of repose. George
Juxon had been for the most part in the field, having accompanied the
army of the King as the volunteer chaplain of a regiment of horse; but
in the winter of 1645 he made Jane Lambert his own by those sweet and
sacred ties which the church sanctifies and records. Katharine stood
by her at the altar with that pure and perfect joy which hath its only
outward expression in grave and loving looks. For her comfort, Jane
was still spared to her as a companion,--a consolation greatly needed,
and most thankfully enjoyed; for her domestic trials were of that
petty and painful nature, that do especially wear and weary the most
generous spirits.
The name of Francis did never reach her ear save through some public
channel, and that being commonly a newspaper, printed for the
Royalists, she did only gather that he had been present on some fields
where there had been obstinate fighting and great loss of lives. The
thought of his being slain was one painfully familiar to her in the
still night when she lay awake and prayed for him. Then again came
other news in the morning, and his name mentioned as one still riding
at the head of squadrons, and present, it would seem, and among the
foremost wherever swords were drawn, and service to be done.
Afterwards, for months she might not hear his name:--if he was dead,
she did not know it; if he was living, she did not know it; and all
these silent anxieties most deeply wrought upon her suffering spirit.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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