The loyalists : $b an historical novel, Vol. 1-3West, Jane
History
The loyalists : $b an historical novel, Vol. 1-3
West, Jane
Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
"You will both thank me for projecting this separation," replied the
Major. "Seeing the world with your own eyes will improve you, brush off
that home-bred air which makes you bashful, and enlarge your ideas and
powers of conversation. I promise ourselves a spirited, agreeable
campaign. Hopton's office in the council will confine him about the
person of the Prince, who must be kept at some distance from the scene
of action; and Goring is no rigid disciplinarian. The enemy is not in
force in the west; Cromwell and Fairfax are both to play at
King-hunting; so we shall have time to divert ourselves and do our duty
too."
From Bristol, Eustace wrote to his uncle and Constantia, excusing his
absence by the uncontrollable avidity he felt to engage in the cause of
his injured Prince, to whose commands he promised a strict obedience,
and vowed to be sedulously attentive to all his new duties. To
Constantia he added that he hoped to return worthier of her, and to feel
in future the glorious consciousness of having contributed to restore
his virtuous persecuted Sovereign, and give peace to his afflicted
country. There was so much loyalty, honour, love, and gratitude in these
letters, that they must have softened the Doctor's displeasure at his
elopement, had they come to hand; but they were confided to the care of
Monthault, and, either through forgetfulness or treachery, were never
forwarded. It was therefore only from the vague testimony of an
accidental passenger that the family knew Eustace had taken the road to
Bristol; and, from his being in company with Major Monthault, they
guessed his destination.
Constantia had now the twofold anguish of fearing for the safety and
apologizing for the faults of her beloved. The latter task was by far
the most painful. She could only urge that he had a bad adviser, and
that it was his first offence. Every day she flattered herself that she
should receive a letter, deprecating her father's anger, and assuaging
her own fears. The summer passed away, and they heard nothing from
Eustace. Had he forgot her, as well as the ties of duty and gratitude?
It was impossible! letters might be lost, but her plighted Eustace must
be good and faithful.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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