CHAPTER XXIX: THE ASSIZE COURT
"O terror! what hath she perceived? O joy,What doth she look on? whom hath she perceived?"
WORDSWORTH.
Time wore away, and the Lent Assizes at Winchester had come. SirPhilip had procured the best legal assistance for his nephew, but incriminal cases, though the prisoner was allowed the advice ofcounsel, the onus of defence rested upon himself. To poor Anne'sdismay, a subpoena was sent to her, as well as to her uncle, toattend as a witness at the trial. Sir Philip was too anxious toendure to remain at a distance from Winchester, and they travelledin his coach, Sir Edmund Nutley escorting them on horseback, whileLucy was left with her mother, both still in blissful ignorance.They took rooms at the George Inn. That night was a strange andgrievous one to Anne, trying hard to sleep so as to be physicallycapable of composure and presence of mind, yet continually wakenedby ghastly dreams, and then recollecting that the sense of somethingterrible was by no means all a dream.
Very white, very silent, but very composed, she came to the sitting-room, and was constrained by her uncle and Sir Philip to eat, muchas it went against her. On this morning Sir Philip had dropped hissternness towards her, and finding a moment when his son-in-law wasabsent, he said, "Child, I know that this is wellnigh, nay, quite ashard for you as for me. I can only say, Let no earthly regards holdyou back from whatever is your duty to God and man. Speak the truthwhatever betide, and leave the rest to the God of truth. God blessyou, however it may be;" and he kissed her brow.
The intelligence that the trial was coming on was brought bySedley's counsel, Mr. Simon Harcourt. They set forth for the CountyHall up the sharply-rising street, thronged with people, who growledand murmured at the murderer savagely, Sir Philip, under the care ofhis son-in-law, and Anne with her uncle. Mr. Harcourt was veryhopeful; he said the case for the prosecution had not a leg to standon, and that the prisoner himself was so intelligent, and had soreadily understood the line of defence to take, that he ought tohave been a lawyer. There would be no fear except that it might bemade a party case, and no stone was likely to be left unturnedagainst a gentleman of good loyal family. Moreover Mr. WilliamCowper, whom Robert Oakshott, or rather his wife, had engaged atgreat expense for the prosecution, was one of the most rising ofbarristers, noted for his persuasive eloquence, and unfortunatelyMr. Harcourt had not the right of reply.
The melancholy party were conducted into court, Sir Philip and SirEdmund to the seats disposed of by the sheriff, beside the judge,strangely enough only divided by him from Major Oakshott. The judgewas Mr. Baron Hatsel, a somewhat weak-looking man, in spite of hisred robes and flowing wig, as he sat under his canopy beneath KingArthur's Round Table. Sedley, perhaps a little thinner since hisimprisonment, but with the purple red on his face, and his prominenteyes so hard and bold that it was galling to know that this wasreally the confidence of innocence.
Mr. Cowper was with great ability putting the case. Here were twofamilies in immediate neighbourhood, divided from the first bypolitical opinions of the strongest complexion; and he put theOakshott views upon liberty, civil and religious, in the mostpopular light. The unfortunate deceased he described as having beena highly promising member of the suite of the distinguished Envoy,Sir Peregrine Oakshott, whose name he bore. On the death of theeldest brother he had been recalled, and his accomplishments andforeign air had, it appeared, excited the spleen of the younggentlemen of the county belonging to the Tory party, then in theascendant, above all of the prisoner. There was then little or noetiquette as to irrelevant matter, so that Mr. Cowper could dwell atlength on Sedley's antecedents, as abusing the bounty of his uncle,a known bully expelled for misconduct from Winchester College, thenacting as a suitable instrument in those violences in Scotland whichhad driven the nation finally to extremity, noted for hisdebaucheries when in garrison, and finally broken forinsubordination in Ireland.
After this unflattering portrait, which Sedley's looks certainly didnot belie, the counsel went back to 1688, proceeded to mentionseveral disputes which had taken place when Peregrine had metLieutenant Archfield at Portsmouth; but, he added with a smile, thatno dart of malice was ever thoroughly winged till Cupid had addedhis feather; and he went on to describe in strong colours the insultto a young gentlewoman, and the interference of the other young manin her behalf, so that swords were drawn before the appearance ofthe reverend gentleman her uncle. Still, he said, there was furthervenom to be added to the bolt, and he showed that the two had partedafter the rejoicings on Portsdown Hill with a challenge all bututtered between them, the Whig upholding religious liberty, the Toryhotly defending such honour as the King possessed, and both partingin anger.
Young Mr. Oakshott was never again seen alive, though his familylong hoped against hope. There was no need to dwell on the strangeappearances that had incited them to the search. Certain it was,that after seven years' silence, the grave had yielded up itssecrets. Then came the description of the discovery of the bones,and of the garments and sword, followed by the mention of theevidence as to the blood on the grass, and the prisoner having beenseen in the neighbourhood of the castle at that strange hour. Hewas observed to have an amount of money unusual with him soon after,and, what was still more suspicious, after having gambled this away,he had sold to a goldsmith at Southampton a ruby ring, which bothMr. and Mrs. Oakshott could swear to have belonged to the deceased.In fact, when Mr. Cowper marshalled the facts, and even describedthe passionate encounter taking place hastily and without witnesses,and the subsequent concealment of guilt in the vault, the pursetaken, and whatever could again be identified hidden, whileprovidentially the blocking up of the vault preserved the evidenceof the crime so long undetected and unavenged, it was hardlypossible to believe the prisoner innocent.
When the examination of the witnesses began, however, Sedley showedhimself equal to his own defence. He made no sign when RobertOakshott identified the clothes, sword, and other things, and theircondition was described; but he demanded of him sharply how he knewthe human remains to be those of his brother.
"Of course they were," said Robert.
"Were there any remains of clothes with them?"
"No."
"Can you swear to them? Did you ever before see your brother'sbones?"
At which, and at the witness's hesitating, "No, but--" the courtbegan to laugh.
"What was the height of the deceased?"
"He reached about up to my ear," said the witness with somehesitation.
"What was the length of the skeleton?"
"Quite small. It looked like a child's."
"My lord," said Sedley, "I have a witness here, a surgeon, whom Irequest may be called to certify the proportion of a skeleton to thesize of a living man."
Though this was done, the whole matter of size was so vague thatthere was nothing proved, either as to the inches of Peregrine orthose of the skeleton, but still Sedley made his point that theidentity of the body was unproved at least in some minds. Still,there remained the other articles, about which there was no doubt.
Mr. Cowper proceeded with his examination as to the disputes atPortsmouth, but again the prisoner scored a point by proving thatPeregrine had staked the ring against him at a cock-fight atSouthampton, and had lost it.
Dr. Woodford was called, and his evidence could not choose but to bemost damaging as to the conflict on the road at Portsmouth; but ashe had not seen the beginning, 'Mistress Anne Jacobina Woodford' wascalled for.
There she stood, tall and stately, almost majestic in the stiffnessof intense self-restraint, in her simple gray dress, her black silkhood somewhat back, her brown curls round her face, a red spot ineach cheek, her earnest brown eyes fixed on the clerk as he gabbledout the words so awful to her, "The truth, the whole truth, andnothing but the truth;" and her soul re-echoed the words, "So helpyou God."
Mr. Cowper was courteous; he was a gentleman, and he saw she was nolight-minded girl. He asked her the few questions needful as to theattack
made on her, and the defence; but something moved him to goon and ask whether she had been on Portsdown Hill, and to obtainfrom her the account of the high words between the young men. Sheanswered each question in a clear low voice, which still was audibleto all. Was it over, or would Sedley begin to torture her, when somuch was in his favour? No! Mr. Cowper--oh! why would he? wasasking in an affirmative tone, as if to clench the former evidence,"And did you ever see the deceased again?"
"Yes." The answer was at first almost choked, then cleared intosharpness, and every eye turned in surprise on the face that hadbecome as white as her collar.
"Indeed! And when?"
"The next morning," in a voice as if pronouncing her own doom, andwith hands clinging tight to the front of the witness-box as thoughin anguish.
"Where?" said the counsel, like inexorable fate.
"I will save the gentlewoman from replying to that question, sir;"and a gentleman with long brown hair, in a rich white and golduniform, rose from among the spectators. "Perhaps I may be allowedto answer for her, when I say that it was at Portchester Castle, atfive in the morning, that she saw Peregrine Oakshott slain by myhand, and thrown into the vault."
There was a moment of breathless amazement in the court, and thejudge was the first to speak. "Very extraordinary, sir! What isyour name?"
"Charles Archfield," said the clear resolute voice.
Then came a general movement and sensation, and Anne, still holdingfast to the support, saw the newcomer start forward with a cry, "Myfather!" and with two or three bounds reach the side of Sir Philip,who had sunk back in his seat for a moment, but recovered himself ashe felt his son's arm round him.
There was a general buzz, and a cry of order, and in the silencethus produced the judge addressed the witness:--
"Is what this gentleman says the truth?"
And on Anne's reply, "Yes, my Lord," spoken with the clear ring ofanguish, the judge added--
"Was the prisoner present?"
"No, my Lord; he had nothing to do with it."
"Then, brother Cowper, do you wish to proceed with the case?"
Mr. Cowper replied in the negative, and the judge then made a briefsumming-up, and the jury, without retiring, returned a verdict of'Not guilty.'
In the meantime Anne had been led like one blinded from the witness-box, and almost dropped into her uncle's arms. "Cheer up, cheer up,my child," he said. "You have done your part bravely, and after soupright a confession no one can deal hardly with the young man. Godwill surely protect him."
The acquittal had been followed by a few words from Baron Hatsel,congratulating the late prisoner on his deliverance through thisgentleman's generous confession. Then there was a moment'shesitation, ended by the sheriff asking Charles, who stood up by hisold father, one arm supporting the trembling form, and the otherhand clasped in the two aged ones, "Then, sir, do you surrender totake your trial?"
"Certainly, sir," said Charles. "I ought to have done so long ago,but in the first shock--"
Mr. Harcourt here cautioned him not to say anything that could beused against him, adding in a low tone, much to Sir Philip's relief,"It may be brought in manslaughter, sir."
"He should be committed," another authority said. "Is there aHampshire magistrate here to sign a warrant?"
Of these there were plenty; and as the clerk asked for hisdescription, all eyes turned on the tall and robust form in theprime of manhood, with the noble resolute expression on his finefeatures and steadfast eyes, except when, as he looked at hisfather, they were full of infinite pity. The brown hair hung overthe rich gold-laced white coat, faced with black, and with a broadgold-coloured sash fringed with black over his shoulder, and therewas a look of distinction about him that made his answer onlynatural. "Charles Archfield, of Archfield House, Fareham,Lieutenant-Colonel of his Imperial Majesty's Light Dragoons, Knightof the Holy Roman Empire. Must I give up my sword like a prisonerof war?" he asked, with a smile.
Sir Philip rose to his feet with an earnest trembling entreaty thatbail might be taken for him, and many voices of gentlemen and men ofsubstance made offers of it. There was a little consultation, andit was ruled that bail might be accepted under the circumstances,and Charles bowed his thanks to the distant and gave his hand to thenearer, while Mr. Eyre of Botley Grange, and Mr. Brocas of RocheCourt, were accepted as sureties. The gentle old face of Mr.Cromwell of Hursley, was raised to poor old Sir Philip's with thewords, spoken with a remnant of the authority of the Protector:"Your son has spoken like a brave man, sir; God bless you, and bringyou well through it."
Charles was then asked whether he wished for time to collectwitnesses. "No, my lord," he said. "I thank you heartily, but Ihave no one to call, and the sooner this is over the better forall."
After a little consultation it was found that the Grand Jury had notbeen dismissed, and could find a true bill against him; and it wasdecided that the trial should take place after the rest of thecriminal cases were disposed of.
This settled, the sorrowful party with the strangely welcomed sonwere free to return to their quarters at the George. Mr. Cromwellpressed forward to beg that they would make use of his coach. Itwas a kind thought, for Sir Philip hung feebly on his son's arm, andto pass through the curious throng would have been distressing.After helping him in, Charles turned and demanded--
"Where is she, the young gentlewoman, Miss Woodford?"
She was just within, her uncle waiting to take her out till thecrowd's attention should be called off. Charles lifted her in, andSir Edmund and Dr. Woodford followed him, for there was plenty ofroom in the capacious vehicle.
Nobody spoke in the very short interval the four horses took ingetting themselves out of the space in front of the County Hall anddown the hill to the George. Only Charles had leant forward, takenAnne's hand, drawn it to his lips, and then kept fast hold of it.
They were all in the room at the inn at last, they hardly knew how;indeed, as Charles was about to shut the door there was a smack onhis back, and there stood Sedley holding out his hand.
"So, Charley, old fellow, you were the sad dog after all. You gotme out of it, and I owe you my thanks, but you need not have putyour neck into the noose. I should have come off with flyingcolours, and made them all make fools of themselves, if you had onlywaited."
"Do you think I could sit still and see _her_ put to the torture?"said Charles.
"Torture? You are thinking of your barbarous countries. No fear ofthe boot here, nor even in Scotland nowadays."
"That's all the torture you understand," muttered Sir Edmund Nutley.
"Not but what I am much beholden to you all the same," went onSedley. "And look here, sir," turning to his uncle, "if you wish toget him let off cheap you had better send up another specialretainer to Harcourt, without loss of time, as he may be off."
Sir Edmund Nutley concurred in the advice, and they hurried offtogether in search of the family attorney, through whom the greatman had to be approached.
The four left together could breathe more freely. Indeed Dr.Woodford would have taken his niece away, but that Charles alreadyhad her in his arms in a most fervent embrace, as he said, "Mybrave, my true maid!"
She could not speak, but she lifted up her eyes, with infiniterelief in all her sorrow, as for a moment she rested against him;but they had to move apart, for a servant came up with some wine,and Charles, putting her into a chair, began to wait on her and onhis father.
"I have not quite forgotten my manners," he said lightly, as if torelieve the tension of feeling, "though in Germany the ladies servethe gentlemen."
It was very hard not to burst into tears at these words, but Anneknew that would be the way to distress her companions and to have toleave the room and lose these precious moments. Sir Philip, afterswallowing the wine, succeeded in saying, "Have you been at home?"
Charles explained that he had landed at Gravesend, and had riddenthence, sleeping at Basingstoke, and taking the road throughWinchester
in case his parents should be wintering there, and onarriving a couple of hours previously and inquiring for them, he hadheard the tidings that Sir Philip Archfield was indeed there, forhis nephew was being tried for his life for the wilful murder ofMajor Oakshott's son seven years ago.
"And you had none of my warnings? I wrote to all the ports," saidhis father, "to warn you to wait till all this was over."
No; he had crossed from Sluys, and had met no letter. "I suppose,"he said, "that I must not ride home to-morrow. It might make mysureties uneasy; but I would fain see them all."
"It would kill your mother to be here," said Sir Philip. "She knowsnothing of what Anne told me on Sedley's arrest. She is grown veryfeeble;" and he groaned. "But we might send for your sister, if shecan leave her, and the boy."
"I should like my boy to be fetched," said Charles. "I should wishhim to remember his father--not as a felon convicted!" Then puttinga knee to the ground before Sir Philip, he said, "Sir, I ask yourblessing and forgiveness. I never before thoroughly understood myerrors towards you, especially in hiding this miserable matter, andleaving all this to come on you, while my poor Anne there was leftto bear all the load. It was a cowardly and selfish act, and I askyour pardon."
The old man sobbed with his hand on his son's head. "My dear boy!my poor boy! you were distraught."
"I was then. I did it, as I thought, for my poor Alice's sake atfirst, and as it proved, it was all in vain; but at the year's end,when I was older, it was folly and wrong. I ought to have laid allbefore you, and allowed you to judge, and I sincerely repent the nothaving so done. And Anne, my sweetest Anne, has borne the burthenall this time," he added, going back to her. "Let no one say awoman cannot keep secrets, though I ought never to have laid this onher."
"Ah! it might have gone better for you then," sighed Sir Philip."No one would have visited a young lad's mischance hardly on a loyalhouse in those days. What is to be done, my son?"
"That we will discuss when the lawyer fellow comes. Is it old Lee?Meantime let us enjoy our meeting. So that is Lucy's husband.Sober and staid, eh? And my mother is feeble, you say. Has shebeen ill?"
Charles was comporting himself with the cheerfulness that had becomehabitual to him as a soldier, always in possible danger, but it wasvery hard to the others to chime in with his tone, and when amessage was brought to ask whether his Honour would be served inprivate, the cheery greeting and shake of the hand broke down thecomposure of the old servant who brought it, and he cried, "Oh, sir,to see you thus, and such a fine young gentleman!"
Charles, the only person who could speak, gave the orders, but theydid not eat alone, for Sir Edmund Nutley and Sedley arrived with thelegal advisers, and it was needful, perhaps even better, to havetheir company. The chief of the conversation was upon Hungarian andTransylvanian politics and the Turkish war. Mr. Harcourt seeminggreatly to appreciate the information that Colonel Archfield wasable to give him, and the anecdotes of the war, and descriptions ofscenes therein actually brightened Sir Philip into interest, andinto forgetting for a moment his son's situation in pride in hisconduct, and at the distinction he had gained. "We must save him,"said Mr. Harcourt to Sir Edmund. "He is far too fine a fellow to belost for a youthful mischance."
The meal was a short one, and a consultation was to follow, whileSedley departed. Anne was about to withdraw, when Mr. Lee theattorney said, "We shall need Mistress Woodford's evidence, sir, forthe defence."
"I do not see what defence there can be," returned Charles. "I canonly plead guilty, and throw myself on the King's mercy, if hechooses to extend it to one of a Tory family."
"Not so fast, sir," said Mr. Harcourt; "as far as I have gatheredthe facts, there is every reason to hope you may obtain a verdict ofmanslaughter, and a nominal penalty, although that rests with thejudge."
On this the discussion began in earnest. Charles, who had neverheard the circumstances which led to the trial, was greatlyastonished to hear what remains had been discovered. He said thathe could only declare himself to have thrown in the body, fulldressed, just as it was, and how it could have been stripped andburied he could not imagine. "What made folks think of looking intothe vault?" he asked.
"It was Mrs. Oakshott," said Lee, "the young man's wife, she who wasto have married the deceased. She took up some strange notion aboutstories of phantoms current among the vulgar, and insisted on havingthe vault searched, though it had been walled up for many yearspast."
Charles and Anne looked at each other, and the former said, "Again?"
"Oh yes!" said Anne; "indeed there have been enough to make meremember what you bade me do, in case they recurred, only it wasimpossible."
"Phantoms!" said Mr. Harcourt; "what does this mean?"
"Mere vulgar superstitions, sir," said the attorney.
"But very visible," said Charles; "I have seen one myself, of whichI am quite sure, besides many that may be laid to the account of thefever of my wound."
"I must beg to hear," said the barrister. "Do I understand thatthese were apparitions of the deceased?"
"Yes," said Charles. "Miss Woodford saw the first, I think."
"May I beg you to describe it?" said Mr. Harcourt, taking a freshpiece of paper to make notes on.
Anne narrated the two appearances in London, and Charles added thestory of the figure seen in the street at Douai, seen by bothtogether, asking what more she knew of.
"Once at night last summer, at the very anniversary, I saw his facein the trees in the garden," said Anne; "it was gone in a moment.That has been all I have seen; but little Philip came to me full ofstories of people having seen Penny Grim, as he calls it, and verystrangely, once it rose before him at the great pond, and his frightsaved him from sliding to the dangerous part. What led Mrs.Oakshott to the examination was that it was seen once on the beach,once by the sentry at the vault itself, once by the sexton at HavantChurchyard, and once by my mother's grave."
"Seven?" said the counsel, reviewing the notes he jotted down."Colonel Archfield, I should recommend you pleading not guilty, andbasing your defence, like your cousin, on the strong probabilitythat this same youth is a living man."
"Indeed!" said Charles, starting, "I could have hoped it from theserecent apparitions, but what I myself saw forbids the idea. If anysight were ever that of a spirit, it was what we saw at Douai;besides, how should he come thither, a born and bred Whig andPuritan?"
"There is no need to mention that; you can call witnesses to hishaving been seen within these few months. It would rest with theprosecution to disprove his existence in the body, especially as thebones in the vault cannot be identified."
"Sir," said Charles, "the defence that would have served my innocentcousin cannot serve me, who know what I did to Oakshott. I am _now_aware that it is quite possible that the sword might not have killedhim, but when I threw him into that vault I sealed his fate."
"How deep is the vault?"
Mr. Lee and Dr. Woodford both averred that it was not above twentyor twenty-four feet deep, greatly to Charles's surprise, for as alad he had thought it almost unfathomable; but then he owned hisideas of Winchester High Street had been likewise far moremagnificent than he found it. The fall need not necessarily havebeen fatal, especially to one insensible and opposing no resistance,but even supposing that death had not resulted, in those Draconiandays, the intent to murder was equally subject with its fullaccomplishment to capital punishment. Still, as Colonel Archfieldcould plead with all his heart that he had left home with no evilintentions towards young Oakshott, the lawyers agreed that to provethat the death of the victim was uncertain would reduce the matterto a mere youthful brawl, which could not be heavily visited. Mr.Harcourt further asked whether it were possible to prove that theprisoner had been otherwise employed than in meddling with the body;but unfortunately it had been six hours before he came home.
"I was distracted," said Charles; "I rode I knew not whither, till Icame to my senses on finding that my horse was rea
dy to drop, when Iled him into a shed at a wayside public-house, bade them feed him,took a drink, then I wandered out into the copse near, and lay onthe ground there till I thought him rested, for how long I know not.I think it must have been near Bishops Waltham, but I cannotrecollect."
Mr. Lee decided on setting forth at peep of dawn the next morning toendeavour to collect witnesses of Peregrine's appearances. SirEdmund Nutley intended to accompany him as far as Fareham to fetchlittle Philip and Lady Nutley, if the latter could leave her motherafter the tidings had been broken to them, and also to try to tracewhether Charles's arrival at any public-house were remembered.
To her dismay, Anne received another summons from the other party toact as witness.
"I hoped to have spared you this, my sweet," said Charles, "butnever mind; you cannot say anything worse of me than I shall own ofmyself."
The two were left to each other for a little while in the baywindow. "Oh, sir! can you endure me thus after all?" murmured Anne,as she felt his arm round her.
"Can you endure me after all I left you to bear?" he returned.
"It was not like what I brought on you," she said.
But they could not talk much of the future; and Charles told how hehad rested through all his campaigns in the knowledge that his Annewas watching and praying for him, and how his long illness hadbrought before him deeper thoughts than he had ever had before, andmade him especially dwell on the wrong done to his parents by hislong absence, and the lightness with which he had treated homeduties and responsibilities, till he had resolved that if his lifewere then spared, he would neglect them no longer.
"And now," he said, and paused, "all I shall have done is to breaktheir hearts. What is that saying, 'Be sure your sin will find youout.'"
"Oh, sir! they are sure not to deal hardly with you."
"Perhaps the Emperor's Ambassador may claim me. If so, would you gointo banishment with the felon, Anne, love? It would not be quiteso mad as when I asked you before."
"I would go to the ends of the world with you; and we would takelittle Phil. Do you know, he is growing a salad, and learningLatin, all for papa?"
And so she told him of little Phil till his father was seen lookingwistfully at him.
With Sir Philip, Charles was all cheerfulness and hope, taking suchinterest in all there was to hear about the family, estate, andneighbourhood that the old gentleman was beguiled into feeling as ifthere were only a short ceremony to be gone through before he hadhis son at home, saving him ease and trouble.
But after Sir Philip had been persuaded to retire, worn out with theday's agitations, and Anne likewise had gone to her chamber to weepand pray, Charles made his arrangements with Mr. Lee for the futurefor all connected with him in case of the worst; and after thelawyer's departure poured out his heart to Dr. Woodford in deepcontrition, as he said he had longed to do when lying in expectationof death at the Iron Gates. "However it may end," he said, "and Iexpect, as I deserve, the utmost, I am thankful for thisopportunity, though unhappily it gives more pain to those about methan if I had died out there. Tell them, when they need comfort,how much better it is for me."
"My dear boy, I cannot believe you will have to suffer."
"There is much against me, sir. My foolish flight, the state ofparties, and the recent conspiracy, which has made loyal familiessuspected and odious. I saw something of that as I came down. Thecrowd fancied my uniform French, and hooted and hissed me.Unluckily I have no other clothes to wear. Nor can I from my heartutterly disclaim all malice or ill will when I remember the thrillof pleasure in driving my sword home. I have had to put an end to aJanissary or two more than once in the way of duty, but their blackeyes never haunted me like those parti-coloured ones. Still Itrust, as you tell me I may, that God forgives me, for our BlessedLord's sake; but I should like, if I could, to take the HolySacrament with my love while I am still thus far a free man. I havenot done so since the Easter before these troubles."
"You shall, my dear boy, you shall."
There were churches at which the custom freshly begun at theRestoration was not dropped. The next was St. Matthias's Day, andAnne and her uncle had already purposed to go to the quiet littlechurch of St. Lawrence, at no great distance, in the very earlymorning. They were joined on their way down the stair into thecourtyard of the inn by a gentleman in a slouched hat and large darkcloak, who drew Anne's arm within his own.
Truly there was peace on that morning, and strength to the brave manbeyond the physical courage that had often before made him bright inthe face of danger, and Anne, though weeping, had a sense of respiteand repose, if not of hope.
Late in the afternoon, little Philip was lifted down from ridingbefore old Ralph into the arms of the splendid officer, whoseappearance transcended all his visions. He fumbled in his smallpocket, and held out a handful of something green and limp.
"Here's my salad, papa. I brought it all the way for you to eat."
And Colonel Archfield ate every scrap of it for supper, though itwas much fitter for a rabbit, and all the evening he held on hisknee the tired child, and responded to his prattle about Nana anddogs and rabbits; nay, ministered to his delight and admiration ofthe sheriff's coach, javelin men, and even the judge, with a strangemixture of wonder, delight, and with melancholy only in eyes andundertones.
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