CHAPTER XXI

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A LONG-DREADED SUMMONS.

"Who, grown familiar with the sky, will grope Henceforward among groundlings?" --ROBERT BROWNING.

It was on a bright evening in the end of May that the clatter of the Black Horseman's horse-hoofs, now every day looked for by Primrose and her guardian with mingled feelings of interest and apprehension, was once more heard along the narrow road by the riverside, and the old man, clasping his foster-child to his heart in a long embrace, put her from him again with stern resolution, and went forth to greet his guest, and receive the long-dreaded summons from her mysterious unknown mother. He took the letter indoors, while the Black Horseman, with thoughtful consideration for his feelings, refused his invitation to enter the house, and promised to return in an hour's time, to receive his answer. Primrose crept to his feet, and with her head on his knee they read the letter together in silence. It ran as follows:--"To Jack the boatman, a most loving, though erring kinswoman sends greeting, offering to him her most hearty thanks for his loving and tender care bestowed upon her child for the past nineteen years, and promising him faithfully that she will never make attempt by word or deed to sever the deep bond of affection between them, but will ever promote their continued intercourse so far as in her lies, now that the hour has at length come when she must claim her child for her own, and remove her from the happy home of her childhood. Her mother bids her make ready to accompany the Black Horseman to town in one week's time from this present date, where she shall be received into the most fond and tender care a mother can offer. And should all go well, she shall accompany her mother later in the year for a short season to the farm Glyn Helen, below the Craig Aran mountain, whither her faithful guardian shall likewise be invited to repair, and where much that cannot well be put into writing shall be made clear to him. An unworthy mother can add no more to what she fears can be but a sorry and unwelcome summons, save an assurance of the great love and impatience with which she awaits her beloved daughter, and of the undying gratitude she bears to her honoured guardian."

"It is well," said Jack in a broken voice. "It is but the fulfilment of long expectation, and it is better so. I am an old man whatever, and shall but become daily less fit for the guardianship of so much beauty. So fair a flower could ne'er be left to bloom alone, and then wither and die upon these lonely river-banks. It is but right that it should e'en be transplanted without delay to some fair garden, where other peerless blossoms shall be fain to hang their heads before its radiant beauty, and where the highest culture this world can give shall bring it yet to greater and more complete perfectness! Yet I can but fear me lest the world may sully my blossom's sweet purity, and by adding more earthly bloom, dim Heaven's own pure loveliness!" "Hush, dear dad, I pray you!" cried Primrose, hiding her blushing, tearful face in her hands. "You would fain turn my poor head, ere I leave you, with your loving speeches! Yet I will ever pray that I may ne'er be less worthy of them than you now account me. And doubt not that, after my own dear mother, and perchance the father of whom she tells me nought, you will ever have the first place in my thoughts." "That were a rash promise, sweet one!" said Jack, a humorous smile lighting up his rugged face. "Where will you then put your husband whatever?" "Ah, I had forgotten him!" said Primrose innocently; then, colouring crimson at so bold a speech, she hid her face, and trembled at the thoughts which followed her careless words. "He dwells then already in your thoughts--is it so?" said Jack, with a half-sigh. "Ah, well! 'Tis ever so with young men and maidens, and I will not grudge thee to one who is worthy. Indeed, I could easier give thee up to a tender husband's care than to this unknown mother! Yet I know not verily who shall be accounted worthy to wear my sweet flower next his heart, since even the gay Sir Tristram, who had lands and gold and a handsome countenance to boot, must needs be sent away weeping!" "I have looked upon the sun," said Primrose quietly, "and beside his light all other stars look pale. Perchance, dear dad, I may never wed. Do you not remember how on my hand the gipsy saw no marriage?" And she laughed lightly. "Beshrew the old witch and her vile sayings!" exclaimed Jack indignantly. "My bridge bears a living testimony to her falseness, for it stands as stoutly as of yore, in spite of her warnings, and your marriage, my sweet one, hangs upon no wicked words of hers." "Nay, I did but jest," answered Primrose; "yet ever and anon I call her words to mind, and her wild song about the Primrose and the Lily rings in my ears. If I must some day sleep in the river, I would fain know who is the Lily who shall sleep there with me, and why so mournful a fate must needs be promised us!" "She can know nought of the 'lily-knight,'" she added to herself, musingly; "and even if she should know of there being one so called, why should she bear us both such ill-will as to foretell for us both a watery grave? Ah, what folly thus to dwell upon her dark sayings!" And laughing at her own childishness, Primrose banished the old gipsy from her thoughts, and she and the boatman went forth together, to tell to the vicar of Cwmfelin the wonderful news of her mother's summons.

A week later the painful and long-dreaded parting was over; Primrose had looked for the last time upon the home of her childhood as a home, and had left the sunny Gwynnon Valley in the Black Horseman's charge, to go out into the unknown world before her.

We will not dwell upon the old boatman's sorrow and loneliness of heart, which were fully shared by good Master Rhys, who had also looked upon Primrose as a dear daughter; but, leaving for a time the fair vale of Gwynnon, we will follow Primrose to town, where, after a journey made as easy and pleasant in those days of toilsome travelling as the good physician knew how to make it, she arrived safely in his charge, and was taken to the large and handsome residence close to Hampton Court, in which she was to find her mysterious parent.

Inscrutable as ever, he had vouchsafed no information whatever to his young companion, on the journey, as to the future conditions of her life, beguiling her thoughts instead with much talk about the various towns and villages through which they passed, and with much learned discourse upon those struggles between the king and Parliament, which had already reached far-distant Wales in fragmentary and disquieting rumours, and were agitating England every day more violently, and more sorely perplexing men's hearts. So that Primrose felt her heart stirred within her, as she entered the great city of London once more, and felt herself to be in the midst of the struggling passions of men whose hearts were daily beating higher with conflicting emotions and desires, and where the general stream of public opinion tended--who knew whither? "Sir Galahad said he would die for the king," she said to herself, when her mind seemed sore perplexed with all the Black Horseman told her, first on one side and then on another, and she was fain to rest her woman's heart upon the judgment of one she would trust against the world; "and if he thinks him a man worth risking life for, then so do I, and I will e'en die for him likewise, if needs must. My heart is for the king, I know right well, and my reason shall not condemn my heart while the words of Holy Writ bid us 'render obedience unto the king as supreme.' That Book surely never bids us take up arms against our sovereign, be his faults what they may, and since he is still a good and holy man in private life, I will love him as before and think no ill." To which loyal resolve the Black Horseman bade her ever be true, for he was likewise himself a true-hearted cavalier, and though not blind to the faults of Charles as king, loved him too truly as man to feel any sympathy with his bitter foes, who, alas, were daily increasing in number and in power.

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