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 stolen view was aweful and impressive. The inside of the cemetery
was lighted by a lamp that shewed it was furnished with those articles
of comfort which rendered it an habitable abode. On a neat pallet lay an
aged gentleman, corresponding, in his appearance and infirmities, with
one of the fugitives from Pontefract described by Morgan. Isabel had
already spread a table, on which were placed the refreshments she had
just brought, and a prayer-book. She was at that moment employed in
chafing his benumbed limbs, and at the same time looking up at her
patient with the tenderest affection, smiling through the tears of
anxiety and compassion; while, as he bent over her, shrinking with acute
pain from her light and tender touch, a glow of sublime affection
illuminated his pale and furrowed features.
It was at this moment that the wind, rushing down the aisles of the
church, forced the door out of Sedley's hand, and revealed him to the
father and daughter as a witness of their affecting interview. The
reader must have anticipated that no motive less potent than filial
piety could have stimulated the heroism of Isabel. Surprise extorted
from her a loud shriek; and the disabled Evellin snatched a carbine,
which stood charged within his reach, and pointed it at the invader of
their retreat. Isabel hung upon his arm. "'Tis my preserver! 'Tis my
father!" exclaimed she, addressing them alternately. "Oh! Sedley, how
durst you disobey me!"
"Young man," said the stern veteran, in a voice which denoted that an
unconquered soul still tenanted his decaying body, "instantly tell your
motive for this intrusion. My daughter addresses you as a friend, but
your name announces a double traitor."
"Then it belies my heart," answered Sedley, "for I come devoted to your
service, impatient to assist in the preservation of persecuted worth.
The generous bravery of the renowned Colonel Evellin must endear him to
every soldier, even if he were not the father of that matchless
excellence who kneels beside you, and stays your arm from taking the
life of one whose purpose is to preserve yours."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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