The Path of the King [68]
into the semicircle of wavering lamp light he observed a tall young lady in a riding coat white with snowflakes. She had dismounted from her horse, and the beast's smoking nostrils were thawing the ice on her sleeve. She wore a mask, but she did not deceive her father.
"Cecily," he cried, astounded out of his calm. "What madcap trick is this?"
The girl for answer flung her bridle to a servant and climbed into the coach beside him. Once more the wheels moved.
"Oh, father, dearest father, pray forgive me. I have been so anxious. When you fell I begged Tony to give up the plan, but he assured me you had taken no hurt. Tell me you are none the worse."
Mr. Lovel began to laugh, and there was relief in his laugh, for he had been more disquieted than he would have confessed.
"I am very greatly the worse.!" He nodded to his bonds. "I do not like your endearments, Cis."
"Promise me not to try to escape, and I will cut them." The girl was very grave as she drew from a reticule beneath her cloak a pair of housewife's scissors.
Mr. Lovel laughed louder. "I promise to bide where I am in this foul weather."
Neatly and swiftly she cut the cords and he stretched arms and legs in growing comfort.
"Also I have not supped."
"My poor father. But in two hours' time you will have supper. We sleep at--but that I must not say."
"Where does this journey end? Am I to have no news at all, my dear?"
"You promised, remember, so I will tell you. Tony and I are taking you to Chastlecote."
Mr. Lovel whistled. "A long road and an ill. The wind blows bitter on Cotswold in December. I would be happier in my own house."
"But not safe." The girl's voice was very earnest. "Believe me, dearest father, we have thought only of you. Tony says that London streets will soon be running blood. He has it from secret and sure sources. There is a King's faction in the Army and already it is in league with the Scots and our own party to compass the fall of Cromwell. He says it will be rough work and the innocent will die with the guilty. . . . When he told me that, I feared for your life--and Tony, too, for he loves you. So we carry you to Chastlecote till January is past, for by then Tony says there will be peace in England."
"I thank you, Cis,--and Tony also, who loves me. But if your news be right, I have a duty to do. I am of Cromwell's party, as you and Tony are of the King's. You would not have me run from danger."
She primmed her pretty mouth. "You do not run, you are carried off. Remember your promise."
"But a promise given under duress is not valid in law."
"You are a gentleman, sir, before you are a lawyer. Besides, there are six of Tony's men with us--and all armed.
Mr. Lovel subsided with a chuckle. This daughter of his should have been a man. Would that Heaven had seen fit to grant him such a son!
Two hours to supper," was what he said. "By the slow pace of our cattle I judge we are on Denham hill. Permit me to doze, my dear. 'Tis the best antidote to hunger. Whew, but it is cold! If you catch a quinsy, blame that foolish Tony of yours."
But, though he closed his eyes, he did not sleep. All his life he had been something of a fatalist, and this temper had endeared him to Cromwell, who held that no man travelled so far as he who did not know the road he was going. But while in Oliver's case the belief came from an ever-present sense of a directing God, in him it was more of a pagan philosophy. Mr. Lovel was devout after his fashion, but he had a critical mind and stood a little apart from enthusiasm. He saw man's life as a thing foreordained, yet to be conducted under a pretence of freedom, and while a defender of liberty his admiration inclined more naturally to the rigour of law. He would oppose all mundane tyrannies, but bow to the celestial bondage.
Now it seemed that fate had taken charge of him through the medium of two green lovers. He was to be spared the toil of decision and dwell in an enforced seclusion. He was not averse to it. He was not Cromwell with Cromwell's heavy burden; he
"Cecily," he cried, astounded out of his calm. "What madcap trick is this?"
The girl for answer flung her bridle to a servant and climbed into the coach beside him. Once more the wheels moved.
"Oh, father, dearest father, pray forgive me. I have been so anxious. When you fell I begged Tony to give up the plan, but he assured me you had taken no hurt. Tell me you are none the worse."
Mr. Lovel began to laugh, and there was relief in his laugh, for he had been more disquieted than he would have confessed.
"I am very greatly the worse.!" He nodded to his bonds. "I do not like your endearments, Cis."
"Promise me not to try to escape, and I will cut them." The girl was very grave as she drew from a reticule beneath her cloak a pair of housewife's scissors.
Mr. Lovel laughed louder. "I promise to bide where I am in this foul weather."
Neatly and swiftly she cut the cords and he stretched arms and legs in growing comfort.
"Also I have not supped."
"My poor father. But in two hours' time you will have supper. We sleep at--but that I must not say."
"Where does this journey end? Am I to have no news at all, my dear?"
"You promised, remember, so I will tell you. Tony and I are taking you to Chastlecote."
Mr. Lovel whistled. "A long road and an ill. The wind blows bitter on Cotswold in December. I would be happier in my own house."
"But not safe." The girl's voice was very earnest. "Believe me, dearest father, we have thought only of you. Tony says that London streets will soon be running blood. He has it from secret and sure sources. There is a King's faction in the Army and already it is in league with the Scots and our own party to compass the fall of Cromwell. He says it will be rough work and the innocent will die with the guilty. . . . When he told me that, I feared for your life--and Tony, too, for he loves you. So we carry you to Chastlecote till January is past, for by then Tony says there will be peace in England."
"I thank you, Cis,--and Tony also, who loves me. But if your news be right, I have a duty to do. I am of Cromwell's party, as you and Tony are of the King's. You would not have me run from danger."
She primmed her pretty mouth. "You do not run, you are carried off. Remember your promise."
"But a promise given under duress is not valid in law."
"You are a gentleman, sir, before you are a lawyer. Besides, there are six of Tony's men with us--and all armed.
Mr. Lovel subsided with a chuckle. This daughter of his should have been a man. Would that Heaven had seen fit to grant him such a son!
Two hours to supper," was what he said. "By the slow pace of our cattle I judge we are on Denham hill. Permit me to doze, my dear. 'Tis the best antidote to hunger. Whew, but it is cold! If you catch a quinsy, blame that foolish Tony of yours."
But, though he closed his eyes, he did not sleep. All his life he had been something of a fatalist, and this temper had endeared him to Cromwell, who held that no man travelled so far as he who did not know the road he was going. But while in Oliver's case the belief came from an ever-present sense of a directing God, in him it was more of a pagan philosophy. Mr. Lovel was devout after his fashion, but he had a critical mind and stood a little apart from enthusiasm. He saw man's life as a thing foreordained, yet to be conducted under a pretence of freedom, and while a defender of liberty his admiration inclined more naturally to the rigour of law. He would oppose all mundane tyrannies, but bow to the celestial bondage.
Now it seemed that fate had taken charge of him through the medium of two green lovers. He was to be spared the toil of decision and dwell in an enforced seclusion. He was not averse to it. He was not Cromwell with Cromwell's heavy burden; he