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
The only difficulty attendant on this undertaking seemed to consist in
wresting her from the protection of her friends; for though courts of
law no longer afforded relief to injured loyalists, a police was still
preserved, and the precincts of a college could not be violated with
impunity, or indeed with a prospect of success. He resorted, therefore,
to stratagem, invented a tale of distress, and disguised a female
accomplice to pass as the widow of a soldier who had fallen at Naseby. A
story of sick children perishing for want was likely to operate on the
feelings of humane young women. Constantia and Isabel were soon drawn
beyond the walls of Oxford, and conducted along the banks of the
Charwell, in search of this scene of misery. When they were at such a
distance from the city as to preclude the chance of assistance, several
men, masked and disguised, rushed out of an inclosure, seized their
fainting prey, and bore her from her shrieking companion to a carriage
which waited to receive her. The horses set off at full speed, and
Isabel, in an agony of despair, ran after it till it was out of sight,
invoking the interposition of Heaven, and casting many a vain look
around to see if any human succour was at hand. Tired and exhausted, she
at last recollected, that to return to the city and relate the event,
describing to the municipal officers the road the fugitives had taken,
would afford the most probable means of rescue; and, though it would be
unspeakable agony to meet her bereaved uncle and aunt, she yet
considered that her being with them would afford them some consolation,
beside the advantage of her testimony for the recovery of her dear
companion.
When Constantia revived from the state of insensibility into which the
suddenness of the assault had hurried her weak spirits, she found
herself in a chaise with Monthault, who watched the return of her senses
to pour out some passionate encomiums on her beauty, and protestations
of his insurmountable, though hopeless love. "I will speak this once,"
said she, "and then for ever be silent. Hear, abandoned man and
perfidious friend! I would sooner die than yield to your wishes; and I
know my father would weep less over my corpse, than if he saw me
contaminated by your embraces. Restore me to him; nay, only give me
liberty to fly back to his dear arms, and I will never disclose that you
were the ravisher; but if you persist in your cruelty, it will be of no
other avail than to plunge your soul in additional guilt."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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