The Pigeon Pie

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  CHAPTER IX.

  CAUTIOUSLY stealing down stairs, Rose first, to spy where the rebelsmight be, the brother and sister reached the kitchen, where Rose providedEdmund with a grey cloak, once belonging to a former serving-man, andafter a short search in an old press, brought out various equipments,saddle, belt, and skirt, with which her mother had once been wont to ridepillion-fashion. These they carried to the outhouse where Edmund’s horsehad been hidden; and when all was set in order by the light of thelantern, Rose thought that her brother looked more like a groom and lesslike a cavalier than she had once dared to hope. They mounted, and onthey rode, across the downs, through narrow lanes, past farm houses,dreading that each yelping dog might rouse his master to report which waythey were gone. It was not till day had dawned, and the eastern sky wasred with the approaching sun, that they came down the narrow lane thatled to the little town of Bosham, a low flat place, sloping verygradually to the water. Here Rose left her brother, advising him to keepclose under the hedge, while she softly opened a little gate, and entereda garden, long and narrow, with carefully cultivated flowers andvegetables. At the end was a low cottage; and going up to the door, Roseknocked gently. The door was presently cautiously opened by a girl a fewyears older, very plainly dressed, as if busy in household work. Shestarted with surprise, then held out her hand, which Rose pressedaffectionately, as she said, “Dear Anne, will you tell your father that Ishould be very glad to speak to him?”

  “I will call him,” said Anne; “he is just rising. What is— But I willnot delay.”

  “Oh no, do not, thank you, I cannot tell you now.” Rose was left by AnneBathurst standing in a small cleanly-sanded kitchen, with a few woodenchairs neatly ranged, some trenchers and pewter dishes against the wall,and nothing like decoration except a beau-pot, as Anne would have calledit, filled with flowers. Here the good doctor and his daughter lived,and tried to eke out a scanty maintenance by teaching a little school.

  After what was really a very short interval, but which seemed to Rose avery long one, Dr. Bathurst, a thin, spare, middle-aged man, with a smallblack velvet cap over his grey hair, came down the creaking rough woodenstairs. “My dear child,” he asked, “in what can I help you? Your motheris well, I trust.”

  “Oh yes, sir!” said Rose; and with reliance and hope, as if she had beenspeaking to a father, she explained their distress and perplexity, thenstood in silence while the good doctor, a slow thinker, considered.

  “First, to hide him,” he said; “he may not be here, for this—the oldparson’s house—will be the very first spot they will search. But we willtry. You rode, you say, Mistress Rose; where is your horse?”

  “Ah! there is one difficulty,” said Rose, “Edmund is holding him now; butwhere shall we leave him?”

  “Let us come first to see the young gentleman,” said Dr. Bathurst; andthey walked together to the lane where Edmund was waiting, the doctorexplaining by the way that he placed his chief dependence on HarryFletcher, a fisherman, thoroughly brave, trustworthy, and loyal, who hadat one time been a sailor, and had seen, and been spoken to by KingCharles himself. He lived in a little lonely hut about half a miledistant; he was unmarried, and would have been quite alone, but that hehad taken a young nephew, whose father had been killed on the Royalistside, to live with him, and to be brought up to his fishing business.

  Edmund and Rose both agreed that there could be no better hope of escapethan in trusting to this good man; and as no time was to be lost, theyparted for the present, Rose returning to the cottage to spend the daywith Anne Bathurst, and the clergyman walking with the young cavalier tothe place where the fisherman lived. They led the horse with them forsome distance, then tied him to a gate, a little out of sight, and wenton to the hut, which stood, built of the shingle of the beach, justbeyond the highest reach of the tide, with the boat beside it, and thenets spread out to dry.

  Before there was time to knock, the door was opened by Harry Fletcherhimself, his open sunburnt face showing honesty and good faith in everyfeature. He put his hand respectfully to his woollen cap, and said, witha sort of smile, as he looked at Edmund, “I see what work you have forme, your reverence.”

  “You are right, Harry,” said Dr. Bathurst; “this is one of the gentlementhat fought for his Majesty at Worcester, and if we cannot get him safeout of the country, with heaven’s blessing, he is as good as a dead man.”

  “Come in, sir,” said Fletcher, “you had best not be seen. There’s no onehere but little Dick, and I’ll answer for him.”

  They came in, and Dr. Bathurst explained Edmund’s circumstances. Thehonest fellow looked a little perplexed, but after a moment said, “Well,I’ll do what in me lies, sir; but ’tis a long way across.”

  “I should tell you, my good man,” said Edmund, “that I have nothing torepay you with for all the trouble and danger to which you may beexposing yourself on my behalf. Nothing but my horse, which would onlybe bringing suspicion on you.”

  “As to that, your honour,” replied Harry, “I’d never think of waiting forpay in a matter of life and death. I am glad if I can help off agentleman that has been on the King’s side.”

  So the plan was arranged. Edmund was to be disguised in the fisherman’sclothes, spend the day at his hut, and at night, if the weather served,Fletcher would row him out to sea, assisted by the little boy, in hopesof falling in with a French vessel; or, if not, they must pull across toHavre or Dieppe. The doctor promised to bring Rose at ten o’clock tomeet him on the beach and bid him farewell. As to the horse, Fletchersent the little boy to turn it out on the neighbouring down, and hide thesaddle.

  All this arranged, Dr. Bathurst returned to his school; and Rose, dressedin Anne’s plainest clothes, rested on her bed as long as her anxietywould allow her, then came down and helped in her household work. It waswell that Rose was thus employed, for in the afternoon they had a greatfright. Two soldiers came knocking violently at the door, exhibiting anorder to search for the escaped prisoner. Rose recognised two of theparty who had been at Forest Lea; but happily they had not seen enough ofher to know her in the coarse blue stuff petticoat that she now wore.One of them asked who she was, and Anne readily replied, “Oh, a friendwho is helping me;” after which they paid her no further attention.

  Her anxiety for Edmund was of course at its height during this search,and it was not till the evening that she could gain any intelligence.Edmund’s danger had indeed been great. Harry Fletcher saw the rebelscoming in time to prepare. He advised his guest not to remain in thehouse, as if he wished to avoid observation, but to come out, as ifafraid of nothing. His cavalier dress had been carefully destroyed orconcealed; he wore the fisherman’s rough clothes, and had even sacrificedhis long dark hair, covering his head with one of Harry’s red woollencaps. He was altogether so different in appearance from what he had beenyesterday, that he ventured forward, and leant whistling against the sideof the boat, while Harry parleyed with the soldiers. Perhaps theysuspected Harry a little, for they insisted on searching his hut, and asthey were coming out, one of them began to tell him of the penalties thatfishermen would incur by favouring the escape of the Royalists. Harrydid not lose countenance, but went on hammering at his boat as if hecared not at all, till observing that one of the soldiers was lookinghard at Edmund, he called out, “I say, Ned, what’s the use of loiteringthere, listening to what’s no concern of yours? Fetch the oar out of yonshed. I never lit on such a lazy comrade in my life.”

  This seemed to turn away all suspicion, the soldiers left them, and nofurther mischance occurred. At night, just as the young moon wassetting, the boat was brought out, and Harry, with little Dick and acomrade whom he engaged could be trusted, prepared their oars. At thesame time, Dr. Bathurst and Rose came silently to meet them along theshingly beach. Rose hardly knew her brother in his fisherman’s garb.The time was short, and their hearts were too full for many words, asthat little party stood together in the light of the crescent moon, thes
ea sounding with a low constant ripple, spread out in the grey hazy bluedistance, and here and there the crests of the nearer waves swelling upand catching the moonlight.

  Edmund and his sister held their hands tightly clasped, loving eachother, if possible, better than ever. He now and then repeated someloving greeting which she was to bear home; and she tried to restrain hertears, at the separation she was forced to rejoice in, a parting whichgave no augury of meeting again, the renewal of an exile from which therewas no present hope of return. Harry looked at Dr. Bathurst to intimateit was time to be gone. The clergyman came close to the brother andsister, and instead of speaking his own words, used these:—

  “Turn our captivity, O LORD, as the rivers in the south.”

  “They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.”

  “He that now goeth on his way weeping, and beareth forth good seed, shalldoubtless come again with joy, and bring his sheaves with him.”

  “Amen,” answered Edmund and Rose; and they loosened their hold of eachother with hearts less sore. Then Edmund bared his head, and knelt down,and the good clergyman called down a blessing from heaven on him; Harry,the faithful man who was going to risk himself for him, did the same, andreceived the same blessing. There were no more words, the boat pushedoff, and the splash of the oars resounded regularly.

  Rose’s tears came thick, fast, blinding, and she sat down on a block ofwood and wept long and bitterly; then she rose up, and in answer to Dr.Bathurst’s cheering words, she said, “Yes, I do thank GOD with all myheart!”

  That night Rose slept at Dr. Bathurst’s, and early in the morning wasrejoiced by the tidings which Harry Fletcher sent little Dick to carry tothe cottage. The voyage had been prosperous, they had fallen in with aFrench vessel, and Mr. Edmund Woodley had been safely received on board.

  She was very anxious to return home; and as it was Saturday, andtherefore a holiday at the school, Dr. Bathurst undertook to go with herand spend the Sunday at Forest Lea. One of the farmers of Bosham helpedthem some little way with his harvest cart, but the rest of the journeyhad to be performed on foot. It was not till noon that they came outupon the high road between Chichester and Forest Lea; and they had notbeen upon it more than ten minutes, before the sound of horses’ tread washeard, as if coming from Chichester. Looking round, they saw a gentlemanriding fast, followed by a soldier also on horseback. There wassomething in his air that Rose recognised, and as he came nearer sheperceived it was Sylvester Enderby. He was much amazed, when, at thesame moment, he perceived it was Mistress Rose Woodley, and stopping hishorse, and taking off his hat, with great respect both towards her andthe clergyman, he hoped all the family were well in health.

  “Yes, yes, I believe so, thank you,” replied Rose, looking anxiously athim.

  “I am on my way to Forest Lea,” he said. “I bring the order my fatherhoped to obtain from General Cromwell.”

  “The Protection! Oh, thanks! ten thousand thanks!” cried Rose. “Oh! itmay save—But hasten on, pray hasten on, sir. The soldiers are already athome; I feared she might be already a prisoner at Chichester. Pray go onand restrain them by your authority. Don’t ask me to explain—you willunderstand all when you are there.”

  She prevailed on him to go on, while she, with Dr. Bathurst, more slowlyproceeded up the chalky road which led to the summit of the green hill ordown, covered with short grass, which commanded a view of all the countryround, and whence they would turn off upon the down leading to ForestLea. Just as they came to the top, Rose cast an anxious glance in thedirection of her home, and gave a little cry. Sylvester Enderby and hisattendant could be seen speeding down the green slope of the hill; but atsome distance further on, was a little troop of horsemen, coming from thedirection of Forest Lea, the sun now and then flashing on a steel cap oron the point of a pike. Fast rode on Sylvester, nearer and nearer camethe troop; Rose almost fancied she could discern on one of the horsessomething muffled in black that could be no other than her mother. Howshe longed for wings to fly to meet her and cheer her heart with theassurance of Edmund’s safety! How she longed to be on Sylvester’s horse,as she saw the distance between him and the party fast diminishing! Atlength he was close to it, he had mingled with it; and at the same timeDr. Bathurst and Rose had to mount a slightly rising ground, which for atime entirely obscured their view. When at length they had reached thesummit of this eminence, the party were standing still, as if in parley;there was presently a movement, a parting, Rose clasped her hands inearnestness. The main body continued their course to Chichester, a fewremained stationary. How many? One, two, three—yes, four, or was itfive? and among them the black figure she had watched so anxiously! “Sheis safe, she is safe!” cried Rose. “Oh, GOD has been so very good to us,I wish I could thank Him enough!”

  Leaving the smoother slope to avoid encountering the baffled rebels, Dr.Bathurst and Rose descended the steep, the good man exerting himself thather eagerness might not be disappointed. Down they went, sliding on theslippery green banks, helping themselves with the doctor’s trusty staff,taking a short run at the lowest and steepest part of each, creeping downthe rude steps, or rather foot-holes, cut out by the shepherd-boys in themore perpendicular descents, and fairly sliding or running down theshorter ones. They saw their friends waiting for them; and a lesserfigure than the rest hastened towards them, scaling the steep slopes witha good will, precipitancy, and wild hurrahs of exultation, that would notlet them doubt it was Walter, before they could see his form distinctly,or hear his words. Rose ran headlong down the last green slope, and wassaved from falling by fairly rushing into his arms.

  “Is he safe? I need not ask!” exclaimed Walter.

  “Safe! in a French vessel. And mother?”

  “Safe! well! happy! You saw, you heard! Hurrah! The crop-ears are sentto the right about; the captain has done mother and me the favour toforgive us, as a Christian, all that has passed, he says. We are allgoing home again as fast as we can, young Enderby and all, to chase outthe two rogues that are quartered on us to afflict poor Deb and thelittle ones.”

  By this time Dr. Bathurst had descended, more cautiously, and Walter wentto greet him, and repeat his news. Together they proceeded to meet therest; and who can tell the tearful happiness when Rose and her motherwere once more pressed in each other’s arms!

  “My noble girl! under Providence you have saved him!” whispered LadyWoodley.

  The next evening, in secrecy, with the shutters shut, and the lightscreened, the true pastor of Forest Lea gathered the faithful ones of hisflock for a service in the old hall. There knelt many a humble, loyal,trustful peasant; there was the widowed Dame Ewins, trying to becomforted, as they told her she ought; there was the lady herself, atonce sorrowful and yet earnestly thankful; there was Sylvester Enderby,hearing and following the prayers he had been used to in his earlychildhood, with a growing feeling that here lay the right and the truth;there was Deborah, weeping, grieving over her own fault, and almostheart-broken at the failure of him on whom she had set her warmaffections, yet perhaps in a way made wiser, and taught to trust nolonger to a broken reed, but to look for better things; there were Walterand Lucy, both humbled and subdued, repenting in earnest of themisbehaviour each of them had been guilty of. Walter did not show hiscontrition much in manner, but it was real, and he proved it by many astruggle with his self-willed overbearing temper. It was a realresolution that he took now, and in a spirit of humility, which made himglad to pray that what was past might be forgiven, and that he might behelped for the future. That was the first time Walter had ever kept uphis attention through the whole service, but it all came home to him now.

  Each of that little congregation had their own sorrow of heart, their ownprayer and thanksgiving, to pour out in secret; but all could join in onethank-offering for the safety of the heir of that house; all joined inone prayer for the rescue of their hunted King, and for the restorationof their oppressed and afflicted Church.

 
* * * * *

  Nine years had passed away, and Forest Lea still stood among the stumpsof its cut-down trees; but one fair long day in early June there was muchthat was changed in its aspect. The park was carefully mown and swept;the shrubs were trained back; the broken windows were repaired; andwithin the hall the appearance of everything was still more strikinglycheerful, as the setting sun looked smilingly in at the western window.Green boughs filled the hearth, and were suspended round the walls; freshbranches of young oak leaves, tasselled with the pale green catkins; thehelmets and gauntlets hanging on the wall were each adorned with a spray,and polished to the brightest; the chairs and benches were ranged roundthe long table, covered with a spotless cloth, and bearing in the middlea large bowl filled with oak boughs, roses, lilac, honey-suckle, and allthe pride of the garden.

  At the head of the table sat, less pale, and her face beaming with deep,quiet, heartfelt joy, Lady Woodley herself; and near her were Dr.Bathurst and his happy daughter, who in a few days more were to resumetheir abode in his own parsonage. Opposite to her was a dark soldierlysun-burnt man, on whose countenance toil, weather, and privation had settheir traces, but whose every tone and smile told of the ecstasy of beingonce more at home.

  Merry faces were at each side of the table; Walter, grown up into a tallnoble-looking youth of two-and-twenty, particularly courteous andgracious in demeanour, and most affectionate to his mother; Charles, agentle sedate boy of fifteen, so much given to books and gravity, thathis sisters called him their little scholar; Rose, with the same sweetthoughtful face, active step, and helpful hand, that she had alwayspossessed, but very pale, and more pensive and grave than became a timeof rejoicing, as if the cares and toils of her youth had taken away herlight heart, and had given her a soft subdued melancholy that was alwaysthe same. She was cheerful when others were cast down and overwhelmed;but when they were gay, she, though not sorrowful, seemed almost grave,in spite of her sweet smiles and ready sympathy. Yet Rose was veryhappy, no less happy than Eleanor, with her fair, lovely, laughing face,or—

  “But where is Lucy?” Edmund asked, as he saw her chair vacant.

  “Lucy?” said Rose; “she will come in a moment. She is going to bring inthe dish you especially ordered, and which Deborah wonders at.”

  “Good, faithful Deborah!” said Edmund. “Did she never find a secondlove?”

  “Oh no, never,” said Eleanor. “She says she has seen enough of men inher time.”

  “She is grown sharper than ever,” said Walter, “now she is MistressHousekeeper Deborah; I shall pity the poor maidens under her.”

  “She will always be kind in the main,” rejoined Rose.

  “And did you ever hear what became of that precious sweetheart of hers?”asked Edmund.

  “Hanged for sheep stealing,” replied Walter, “according to the report ofSylvester Enderby. But hush, for enter—”

  There entered Lucy, smiling and blushing, her dark hair decorated withthe spray of oak, and her hands supporting a great pewter dish, in whichstood a noble pie, of pale-brown, well-baked crust, garnished with many apair of little claws, showing what were the contents. She set it down inthe middle of the table, just opposite to Walter. The grace was said,the supper began, and great was the merriment when Walter, raising awhole pigeon on his fork, begged to know if Rose had appetite enough forit, and if she still possessed the spirit of a wolf. “And,” said he, asthey finished, “now Rose will never gainsay me more when I sing—

  “For forty years our Royal throne Has been his father’s and his own, Nor is there anyone but he With right can there a sharer be. For who better may The right sceptre sway, Than he whose right it is to reign? Then look for no peace, For the war will never cease Till the King enjoys his own again.

  “Then far upon the distant hill My hope has cast her anchor still, Until I saw the peaceful dove Bring home the branch I dearly love. And there did I wait Till the waters abate That did surround my swimming brain; For rejoice could never I Till I heard the joyful cry That the King enjoys his own again!”