the land of ire, and anger, and quarreling. I forbid the word in this house. If the Irish are assassins for God's sake, may God forgive them!"
"There is nothing impossible to God, madame," said Neville. "But men find some limitations; and when effects are so much talked of and condemned, it is the part of Eternal Justice – though only from a mortal's mouth – to balance the deeds with the deeds that called them forth. And none can deny that Phelim O'Neal's atrocities called into righteous existence Oliver Cromwell's retributions." And at these words Matilda threw herself on the sofa in a passion of tears.
Neville fell on his knees at her side. "Say you pardon me," he urged; "I have wounded myself worse than you. Your tears drop like fire on my heart; I promise you they do."
With a slight frown on her face Jane stood looking at the two. She despised that abnegation of self-control which turned conversation and argument into disputing, and anger, and tears; and after a moment's thought, she went to her friend's side and asked Neville to rise. "There is no need to humble oneself for the truth," she said softly; "and Matilda knows that. She is now fretted with anxiety, and must not be judged by her words." Then she took Neville's place and soothed and reasoned with the weeping girl, as best she knew how; and Mrs. Swaffham brought the Bible for the evening prayer, and the words of the comforting Psalm stayed all other words; and when they ceased there was peace.
But Jane was grieved in her very heart. The evening promising so much had been spoiled; for love in such an unhappy atmosphere could find no opportunities. Yet in the short tremulous "good-night" which followed, Jane both remembered and foresaw; remembered the sweet glances and the refluent waves of sweet smiles which through all shadowings had drawn Love deep into her heart; and foresaw, beyond all obstacles and peradventures, what possible joy might be waiting in the future. And swift as thought the delicate love lines of her mouth grew bright with expectation, and the clasp of Neville's hand thrilled to her warm heart, and her soul blessed Love and Hope, and sheltered itself in the sunshine of their imperishable land.
Neville had asked to be called early, and before daybreak he came into the parlour ready for his journey. Some broiled beef, a manchet of white bread, and a black jack of spiced ale, stirred with a rosemary branch, was waiting for him; and Mrs. Swaffham and Jane sat at his side while he eat and drank. He spoke regretfully of his temper on the previous night, and left a message of apology for Lady Matilda de Wick, adding to it his sorrow, "not to be so favoured as to make his excuses in person."
"Matilda will sleep for three hours yet," said Mrs. Swaffham, "and I will be glad if she has that much comfort, for she frets her heart away when she is awake."
Then they stood up, for Neville's horse came clattering to the door. He clasped Jane's hand as it hung by her side, and they walked thus to the threshold. Snow was falling; the steps were white with it, and the east wind blew it gently in their faces. Mrs. Swaffham laughed and drew her shawl over her head, and Neville laughed also, and with a cheerful word, leaped to his saddle, his dark figure growing more and more phantom-like through the dim dawn and the white veil of the snow. At the gate he wheeled his horse, and, saluting them, vanished into the gray obscurity, which made all things as if they were not.
"The storm will grow worse, I fear," said Jane as they turned into the house.
"More like than not," answered Mrs. Swaffham; "but he is a dauntless youth, and nothing but good will come to him. Where goes he to-day?"
"As far as he can go. He is in haste to reach Edinburgh, for there is fresh news of rebels from Ireland landing on the Scotch coast. He showed me this report in a copy of the news-letter called The Scottish Dove."
"A badly named news-letter, Jane; the Scotch are never for peace."
"It is intended for a peace paper, mother."
"They are confused in their minds concerning peace. What did it say?"
"That ten ships were leaving Bristol to bring men from Ireland to help Charles Stuart against Cromwell. The Doveasserts, 'the Scotch are ready for speedy action, if God permit, and if advance money be forthcoming;'" and Jane laughed scornfully at the saving clause.
"He did not say much of the Cromwells. I'll warrant, they will forget you in their rising state."
"Far away from it. Mary and Frances sent me many good words, and they are very persuasive with me to come to London and share their state."
"You cannot go just yet, Jane. Your father is opposed to it, until General Cromwell returns there. Then, if it so please God, we shall all go – at least for a season."
"But when will Cromwell return there?"
"God has set a time for all events, Jane. We must wait for it. What think you of Matilda?"
"That she is in trouble greater than we know. She shuts in her words, but I think that something is about to happen."
"Anything may happen with Cromwell in Scotland, and the Parliament carrying things with such a high hand. But see, Jane, we must be after our own concerns. Servants, men and women, are getting beyond all belief; they do such barefaced things as never was. The week's butter is gone already, and when I spoke to Debby, she wiped her saucy mouth and, like the fox in the fable, 'thanked God she wasn't a thief.'"
Then the mother and daughter separated, and Jane went to her friend's room. She was languidly brushing out her long black hair, and Jane tried to kiss a smile into her melancholy face. And as she lifted her head, she had a momentary glance at a beautiful miniature lying upon the dressing-table. The face was that of a youth with flowing locks and a falling collar of lace; but Jane was too honourable to let her eyes rest consciously upon what was evidently hid from her. For in that same moment, Matilda moved her ribbons and kerchief in a hurried way, contriving in so doing, to cover the picture. Then she assumed her usual manner and asked,
"Is Lord Neville still angry at me? I suppose if I had remained with him, he would have eaten me by this time."
"He was very sorry for his show of temper, and would fain have made some apologies to you."
"Then he has gone? Well, it is not worth my while saying I am sorry for it."
"He set off early this morning."
"And so gave me the slip."
"Oh, no! He had important news for General Cromwell, and would push on at his utmost."
"Yet staying awhile at every decent Puritan dwelling, and making love to their sweet daughters."
"Do not be ill-natured, Matilda. He had letters from my father and brothers, and also from Mary and Frances Cromwell to deliver, or he had not stopped at Swaffham."
"Oh, Jane, Jane! I pray your pardon! It must be easy now to forgive me, I keep you so well in practice. In truth, I am a wretched girl, this morning. I have been dreaming of calamities, and my speech is too small for my heart. And this young lord with his adoration of Cromwell and his familiar talk of 'the ladies Mary and Frances' angered me, for I thought of the days when the Lord General was plain 'Mr. Cromwell,' and we were, both of us, in love with young Harry Cromwell."
"Was I in love with Harry Cromwell? If so, I have forgotten it."
"You were in love with Harry Cromwell – or you thought so – and so was I. Do you remember his teaching us how to skate? What spirits we all had then! How handsome he was! How strong! How good-natured! I hear now that he is all for Dorothy Osborne, and has had some Irish hounds sent her, and seal rings, and I know not what other tokens. And Mistress Dorothy is a royalist – that is one good thing about her. Very soon this lucky Cromwell family will coax you to London to see all their glory, and I shall be left in de Wick with no better company than a clock; for my father speaks to me about once an hour, and the Chaplain not at all, unless to reprove me."
"But you shall come to London also."
"Do you think so ill of me as to believe I would leave my father in the loneliness of de Wick? And you know if he went to London he would be watched day and night, and though he were white as innocence about the King, some one would make him as black as Satan."
"Look now, Matilda, I will myself see Cromwell as soon as he is in London. I will say to him, 'My dear Lord and General, I have a favour