Great Britain -- History -- Commonwealth and Protectorate, 1649-1660 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
“Because I was uncertain of his motions,” said the doctor, “and rather
thought he was bound for the sea-side, and that it would be best to
tell you of his fate when he was safe on board, and in full sail for
France. We had appointed to let you know all when I came hither
to-night to join you. But there is a red-coat in the house whom we care
not to trust farther than we could not help. We dared not, therefore,
venture in by the hall; and so, prowling round the building, Albert
informed us, that an old prank of his, when a boy, consisted of
entering by this window. A lad who was with us would needs make the
experiment, as there seemed to be no light in the chamber, and the
moonlight without made us liable to be detected. His foot slipped, and
our friend Bevis came upon us.”
“In good truth, you acted simply,” said Sir Henry, “to attack a
garrison without a summons. But all this is nothing to my son,
Albert—where is he?—Let me see him.”
“But, Sir Henry, wait,” said the doctor, “till your restored strength”—
“A plague of my restored strength, man!” answered the knight, as his
old spirit began to awaken within him.—“Dost not remember, that I lay
on Edgehill-field all night, bleeding like a bullock from five several
wounds, and wore my armour within six weeks? and you talk to me of the
few drops of blood that follow such a scratch as a cat’s claw might
have made!”
“Nay, if you feel so courageous,” said the doctor, “I will fetch your
son—he is not far distant.”
So saying, he left the apartment, making a sign to Alice to remain, in
case any symptoms of her father’s weakness should return.
It was fortunate, perhaps, that Sir Henry never seemed to recollect the
precise nature of the alarm, which had at once, and effectually as the
shock of the thunderbolt, for the moment suspended his faculties.
Something he said more than once of being certain he had done mischief
with that _stramaçon_, as he called it; but his mind did not recur to
that danger, as having been incurred by his son. Alice, glad to see
that her father appeared to have forgotten a circumstance so fearful,
(as men often forget the blow, or other sudden cause, which has thrown
them into a swoon,) readily excused herself from throwing much light on
the matter, by pleading the general confusion. And in a few minutes,
Albert cut off all farther enquiry, by entering the room, followed by
the doctor, and throwing himself alternately into the arms of his
father and of his sister.
CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH.
The boy is—hark ye, sirrah—what’s your name?—
Oh, Jacob—ay, I recollect—the same.
CRABBE.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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