Part 11

"Grant it may not be for our hurt as well as his own. I had no notion that these wasps would have been so soon again at the honeycomb. Could we and our bands have made entry, we would have shown them some of the old match-work, and given them a psalm to sing that they would not readily have forgotten. As it is, we are just wanderers and vagabonds, without e'er a house or a homestead to hide us in, should our friends be driven from Knowsley, and our way be blocked up to the coast. What is worse, too, our supplies are nigh exhausted, and our exchequer as empty as the king's. I would we had not tarried here so long, waiting for advices, as thou didst say, Master Egerton; but which advices, I do verily think, were from a lady's lip; and the next tall fellow, with a long face and a fusee, may tuck us under his sleeve, and carry us to his quarters, like a brace of springed woodcocks."

"Fear not, Chisenhall. We will make directly for the coast, and to-morrow, if we have luck, be under weigh for Ireland. If, as I do trust, we get our levies thence, down with the Rump and the Roundheads, say I, and so"----

"We are not bound for Knowsley, then?"

"No, believe me, I have a better nose than to thrust it into the trap, after the foretokenings we have had. The knave who elbowed me i' the graveyard, as well as the maiden yonder, warned us of some danger at Knowsley, where, I do verily suspect, the rogues are in ambush, waiting for us; but we will give them the slip, and away for bonny Waterford."

The morning was yet raw and misty. A dense fog was coming on, which every minute became more heavy and impervious to the sight. Objects might be heard, long ere they were seen. The rime hung like a frost-work from branch and spray, showing many a fantastic festoon, wreathed by powers and contrivances more wonderful than those by which our vain and presumptuous race are endowed. The little birds looked out from their covers, and chirped merrily on, to while away the hours till bedtime. The rooks cawed from their citadel--to venture abroad was out of the question, lest the rogues should be surprised in some act of depredation, and suffer damage thereby. So chill and searching was the atmosphere that the travellers wrapped their cloaks closely about their haunches, to defend themselves from its attacks. They were scarcely a mile or two on their road when, passing slowly between the high coppice on either hand, Egerton stayed his horse, listening; whilst thus engaged, another blood-drop fell on his hand.

"There be foes behind us," said he, softly. His practised and ever-watchful ear had detected the coming footsteps before his friend.

"'Tis a fortunate screen this same quiet mist, and so let us away to cover." Without more ado he leaped through a gap in the fence, followed by his companion; and they lay concealed effectually from the view of any one who might be passing on the road. They were not so far from the main path but that the footsteps of their pursuers could be heard, and voices too, in loud and earnest discourse. The latter kept their horses at a very deliberate pace, as if passing forward at some uncertainty.

"I say again, heed it as we may, this mist will be the salvation of our runaways. After having dogged them to such good purpose from Lathom, it will be a sorry deed should they escape under this unlucky envelope."

"Tush, faint heart--thinkest thou these enemies of the faith shall triumph, and our own devices come to nought? Nay, verily, for the wicked are as stubble, and the ungodly as they whom the fire devoureth."

"But I would rather have a brisk wind than all thy vapours, thy quiddities, and quotations. Yet am I glad they have not ta'en the turn to Knowsley."

"Which way soever they turn, either to the right hand or to the left, we have them in the net, and snares and pitfalls shall devour them."

The remainder of this comfortable assurance was inaudible, and the cavaliers congratulated themselves on their providential escape.

"How stand ye for Knowsley now, Sir Captain?" said Chisenhall.

"Why, of a surety, friend, there be many reasons why we may pray for a safe passport from this unhappy land; but it seemeth as though our purposes were to be for ever crossed. Towards Knowsley, now, it doth appear that we must proceed, our haven and hiding-place; these rogues having got wind that we did not intend to pass by thither, we must countermine the enemy, or rather double upon their route."

"But how shall we be enabled to proceed?"

"Forward to the right," said Egerton, "and we shall be sure to hit our mark, if I mistake not the bearing. 'Tis, I believe, scarcely two miles hence; and under this friendly cover we cannot be observed, though we should mistake our way."

Changing their course, they now attempted, at all hazards, a running chase along and across hedges and enclosures, in the supposed direction of their retreat. After a somewhat perilous journey for at least an hour in this thick mist, without discovering any object by which they could ascertain their relative situation, Chisenhall at length espied something like a dark square tower before them.

"Plague, pestilence, and all the saints! why if yonder be not that same old ugly grim tower dodging us!" He rubbed his eyes, hardly satisfied that his morning indulgences were ended.

"We are fairly on our way for the grave again, sure enough," said Egerton; "or it may be as thou sayest, the graveyard itself is following us." He tried to rally into a smile, but was unable to disport himself in this wise, and it became needful that some way should be hit upon for their extrication, and that speedily. Occupied in earnest discourse, they were not aware of the presence of a third person until a thin squeaking voice accosted them from behind.

"Back again so soon?--wi' the de'il at your crupper too!"

"Foul fa' thee, thou screech-owl," said Egerton, starting back at that ill-omened sound; "we shall ne'er be rid o' this pestilence!" He attempted to spring aside from the object of his abhorrence; but in a moment his horse was holden by the bridle with almost more than human strength; and the malicious creature set up an exulting and triumphant laugh that was anything but agreeable in their present evil condition.

"Let go--or, by thy master's hoofs, I will send thee to him in the twinkling of a trigger!" said Egerton, drawing forth his pistol.

"Hoo, hoo!" shouted his tormentor, mocking and making faces, with an expression of fiendish delight--"thee 'ill be first though, nunky."

Egerton pointed the weapon; but his horse, goaded in all probability by the strange being beside him, made a sudden spring, and, as ill-luck would have it, stumbled and fell, both horse and rider sprawling in the dust. The cause of this foul accident scampered off with great activity: Chisenhall dismounted, extricating his friend from the trappings. He was bleeding profusely from the nostrils, and appeared insensible. Judging it the wisest plan, though at the risk of their captivity, to procure help, he galloped away to the tavern for assistance.

Much to the surprise of the family was Chisenhall's reappearance, but no time was lost in useless explanations; the host and his daughter immediately proceeded to the spot, with means and appliances for Egerton's removal and recovery; but to their astonishment and dismay the body was removed. His horse was grazing quietly on the herbage, yet there was no trace of Egerton's disappearance. Chisenhall was almost beside himself with distress and consternation; but Marian, though much concerned, seemed to possess some clue to this enigma.

"Steenie, thou sayest, was the cause of this untoward disaster?"

"Ay; that cursed fiend. I wish all his"----

"Nay, nay, friend, thou speakest like to the foolish ones, vain and impious men, whose mouths are full of cursing and bitterness. We had best return; I will think on this matter, and ere the morrow we may have tidings of thy friend; but"----Here she looked significantly aside as she spoke, but not in her father's hearing. "Keep snug here in thy quarters, friend; for since ye left there came divers of the people to inquire, and as He would have it, from me only. Ye be sons of Belial, they said, and cavaliers withal. But ye have eaten and drunken in our dwelling, and though red with the blood of the saints, I cannot deliver you into the hand of your pursuers."

Chisenhall reluctantly complied, having no other resource, and judging it best not to stir abroad, as it might be compromising the safety of both parties, without leading to any beneficial result.

The horses were unharnessed and turned out to graze, whilst Chisenhall was disposed of in an upper chamber above one of the outhouses. His anxiety for his friend allowed him but little rest, and often he was on the point of issuing forth in quest of intelligence; but happily prudence prevented him from sacrificing his own and another's life to a vain and fruitless impatience.

During Chisenhall's concealment Marian was by no means in the same state of idleness and inactivity. She threw on her hood and kerchief; and a clean white apron, girt about her waist, fully displayed the symmetry of her form. Her cloak was adjusted but with little regard to outward show; and an hour was scarcely past ere she sallied forth, as she was often wont, to the dwelling of Gilgal Snape, a person of great note as a preacher and leader of the faithful in these parts. He was, in truth, a worthy and zealous man, sincerely devoted to the cause he espoused, and the service of his Maker--one widely distinguished from the hypocrites and fanatics of that turbulent era, which, like our own, produced, though in a more exaggerated form, from the stimulus then abroad, the same rank and noxious weeds of hypocrisy and superstition; for man, like a mathematical problem, circumstances and conditions being the same, brings out, invariably, the same results. No form of worship, however ludicrous or revolting, but hath its advocates and supporters; and there is nothing which the proud mind and unsubdued heart of man will not put forth, when that heart is made the hot-bed of unholy and unsanctified feelings--all monstrous and polluted things ripening, even beneath the warm and blessed sun that revives and beautifies all else by its splendour.

Gilgal had, however, his figments and his fancies, inseparable perchance from the times and dispositions by which they were engendered. When men, awaking as from a dream, shaking off the deep slumber of bigotry, but not intolerance, through the medium of their yet unpractised sense saw "men as trees walking," regarding trivial and unimportant objects as paramount and essential, while others, whose nature was vital and supreme, were hardly discerned, or at best but slightly noticed or understood;--when minds long tinctured by superstition brought the whole of their previous habits and instincts to bear upon the newly-awakened energies that were heaving and convulsing the moral fabric of society, and the ground of preconceived notions and opinions on which they stood, they could hardly be persuaded that the kingdom of heaven "cometh not by observation;" that special miracles, and visible manifestations of divine favour, were not again to be vouchsafed to the "elect;" and that their faith and prayers were not sufficient to remove mountains, and to conquer and subdue every obstacle. There was more pride in these expectations than they were willing to allow, or even to suspect; and in many it was the very pride and "naughtiness of their hearts;" whilst in others it was but the operation of remaining ignorance, unsubdued lusts, and unsanctified affections.

Gilgal was famous in his day for dealing with "spiritual wickedness in high places." The "prince of the power of the air" was subject unto him. In other words, it was said of him that he had cast out devils and healed the possessed. When others failed, Gilgal had wrestled and prevailed. One of the first-fruits of this outpouring of his soul was "Steenie Ellison," who, from his childhood, was subject to periodical and violent affections of the body--contortions that gave him, in the eyes of many, an appearance of one possessed. Stephen had a considerable share of cunning, a sort of knavish sagacity and ready impertinence, peculiar to most of his kind. He was an orphan, early left to the care of chance or charity, and being a follower of bell-ringers, grave-diggers, and the like, assumed a sort of semi-official attitude at all funerals, weddings, and merry-makings in the neighbourhood. He was generally suspected of holding intercourse with the powers of evil, and when suffering from disease, the unclean spirit whom he had offended was supposed to be afflicting him, having entered into his body to buffet and torment him for his contumacy and disobedience. So partial was he to the art and occupation of grave-making, that he was observed at times to hew out a habitation for the dead ere a tenant was provided. It was always remarked, nevertheless, that the narrow house failed not ere long to receive an inhabitant; and this apprehension considerably heightened the terror with which he was regarded, and rendered him celebrated throughout the country by the name of "the live man's sexton."

But the worthy minister being much moved with compassion towards this child of Satan, his bowels yearned for him, that he might cast out the unclean spirit, and deliver him from his spiritual bondage. He accordingly girded himself to the work, and a great name did he get throughout the land by this mighty achievement, for the possessed became docile as a little child before him, and was subsequently a sort of erratic follower of the party unto which Gilgal was allied; but he would at times forsake the assemblies of the faithful, when, it is said, the dark spirit of divination again came over him, and he would wander among the tombs, showing symptoms of a disordered intellect, though not of the same violent character as before.

Towards the dwelling of Gilgal Snape did Marian direct her steps; it was but a short mile from her own. Often had she been a visitant to the house, where she imbibed the doctrines and instructions of this sincere and zealous confessor of the faith. She frequently mingled in the devotions that were there offered up; but her piety was of a more moderate and amiable cast--less violent and ascetic, not unmixed with love and pity for her enemies and the persecutors of the truth.

Her object in this visit was not so much to partake of the crumbs from the good man's spiritual banquet, as to gain some intelligence through him respecting Egerton's disappearance. She recognised the individuals who were in pursuit of him to be scouts from the republican leaders, with whom the divine was in constant communication. Of the real rank of Egerton she was still ignorant; but she more than suspected his disguise, and scarcely hesitated to conclude, from the anxiety shown for his apprehension, that he was of no little importance in the estimation of his opponents.

Musing and much troubled, by reason of many conflicting emotions, she took no note of the lapse of time until her arrival at the habitation of this devout minister of the word. It was built in a sequestered glen, by a narrow brook near to a couple of black, shapeless, scraggy firs, whose long lean arms were extended over the roof. A low porch guarded the door, in which dairy utensils and implements of husbandry were usually placed. The short casement windows were rendered still more gloomy, and in places screened from light, by the creeping woodbine throwing its luxuriant and unrestricted foliage about their deep recesses. A little wicket admitted the visitor into the court, on each side of which was a homely garden, where nothing ornamental was suffered to intrude or encroach upon the space devoted to objects of usefulness rather than indulgence.

Marian lifted up the latch, entering upon the precincts of this hallowed abode. She passed on, through the large cold cheerless apartment generally called the house; turning thence towards a little chamber, used as an oratory, she heard a loud voice within. She tapped first upon the door, which she slowly opened, and beheld the good man with the sacred volume spread out before him. He raised his eyes for a moment as she entered, but refrained not from his exercise, nor altered in the least the strenuous tone of his orisons.

"And Ehud put forth his left hand, and took the dagger from his right thigh, and smote Eglon, the King of Moab, so that he died. Thus perish the ungodly and the oppressor, even as Abimelech, the son of Jerubbaal, on whom the Almighty rendered the curse of Jotham his brother, and all his wickedness that he had committed, and all the evil of the men of Shechem did God return upon their own heads." Here he raised his eyes, closing the book with a devout aspiration of compliance to the will of Heaven. "I have sought counsel," he continued, "and been much comforted thereby. The wicked shall be utterly cut off, and the ungodly man shall fall by the sword. We may not spare, nor have pity, as Saul spared Agag, whom Samuel hewed in pieces; for the land is cursed for their sakes!"

"Hath Steenie yet returned from vain idols, and the abominations he hath committed?" inquired the maiden.

"He doth yet hunger after the flesh-pots of Egypt; but my bowels yearn towards him, even as my first-born. I do sorrow lest he be finally entangled in the snares of the evil one."

"Knowest thou where he abideth, or if he doth attend the outpouring of the word hereabout?"

"Verily, nay," said the divine; "but I have heard from Sarah and Reuben Heathcote that he hath been seen in the house of ungodly self-seekers, and notorious Papists and malignants, even with our enemies at Garswood. He hath likewise been found resorting unto that high place of papistry, Windleshaw, of late; despising--yea, reviling--the warnings and godly exhortations of the Reverend Master Haydock, who did purpose within himself to win, peradventure it might be to afflict with stripes, this lost one from the fold, that he might bring him back. But he hath sorely buffeted and evil-entreated this diligent shepherd with many grievous indignities; such as tying him unto a gate, and vexing him with sundry of Satan's devices. Yet we would fain hope that he is a chosen vessel, though now defiled by the adversary. He will return, peradventure, as heretofore, when the day of his visitation is past." The good man did, indeed, yearn over this erring sinner, and lifting up his voice he wept aloud.

"There came two men to our habitation, where they abode certain days," said Marian.

"And they departed this morning," said the minister, sharply; "knowest thou that these be enemies of our faith, and contemners of the word?"

"I knew them not," she replied, "save that I suspected them as such, ere they departed."

"Thou wouldest not have them taken with thee in the house, and in that thou judgedst wisely; for I care not that a maiden's thoughts were so soon disposed for deeds like these, which be fitter for iron hearts and brazen hands. Though Jael, the wife of Heber the Kenite, slew Sisera in her tent, and Rahab the harlot received the spies in peace; yet thou didst, I doubt not, point out the way by which they went to the spies sent by the council of the holy state, to follow after these sons of Belial, and deliver them into their hands."

"I know not the path they took," said Marian, evasively.

"Heed not, for the men shall be delivered unto us; even now are they pursued, and, I doubt not, overtaken. Which way soever they turn, their steps are holden, and a snare is laid for their feet; for they shall surely die!" The preacher lifted up his eyes in righteous indignation. They have made themselves drunk with the blood of the saints."

"Will not their lives be given them for a prey?" inquired Marian, apparently in great alarm.

"I have sought counsel, I tell thee; and the Philistine and the Canaanite shall be destroyed utterly from the land."

"I fear me they be other than I had imagined," returned the maiden weeping; "yet still, and I trust I shall be forgiven, I could not betray them who have abided with us, and eaten of our bread."

"Thou knowest them not, wench," said Gilgal; "and 'tis perhaps well thou shouldest not." Here he looked fiercely from under his brows, as though he would have pierced the very inmost recesses of her soul. "Beware," continued he, "for thou art comely, and these men do use devilish and subtle devices to allure and to betray."

Marian was silent. A swollen tear, the overflowing of an overwhelmed and oppressed heart, slowly wandered down her cheek. It was the very crisis of the conflict; and the old man forbore to break the bruised reed. She seemed uneasy and anxious to depart; but he hindered her for a space.

"Wilt thou not, as thou art wont, approach with me to the footstool of Him who doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men?"

Marian felt the rebuke, though it was so finely tempered, and administered so tenderly. She was one of his earlier converts, and his love for her was that of a spiritual parent. Bending the knee, she covered her burning cheeks, and poured out her heart with him in fervour and sincerity. Whether both of them had precisely the same object in view as the end of their supplications, or whether the maiden's fears and inclinations might not lead her to offer up a sincere petition for the safety of others besides those of the household, we will not take upon ourselves to determine; but on leaving the dwelling of Gilgal Snape a suppressed sigh and an involuntary whisper escaped her--"He may yet be spared." She raised her eyes in thankfulness, and a gleam of hope, but not of happiness, irradiated her heart; for she now felt that a great gulf separated them for ever.