The Royalists at that time were accustomed to meet at the house of Mr. Beaumont, the Vicar of South Kirkby, some four miles from the Castle, and to them Morrice communicated his designs as occasion arose. While he worked towards the end in view inside the Castle, they secretly made arrangements for bringing their men together at a convenient time. During these operations Cotterel had no notion that Morrice was actively working to betray him, and he continued to hold out to him many professions of friendship, to which Morrice suitably responded. Finally, after an abortive attempt, a successful recapture of the Castle was effected on the 6th of June, , and Colonel Cotterel, and such of his men as were not killed or wounded, were strictly confined to the quarters where they had lately detained their Royalist prisoners.
The Castle was now once more in the hands of the King’s friends, and those of us who had been imprisoned therein were free, and had the choice of remaining to garrison it against the Parliamentarians. Several of my companions elected to follow this course, and went actively to work to provision the Castle, where there was now gathered a force of about six hundred men, who, on Morrice’s recommendation, chose Sir John Digby to be their Governor. But for my part, I was filled with anxiety about my friends, of whom I had heard but little for over two years, and I accordingly left the Castle and betook myself straightway to Dale’s Field.
XLI
Of My Journey to London
I drew near to my house with many anxious feelings, not knowing what news might be in store for me. We had been so jealously watched during our confinement in the Castle that it had been almost an impossibility to gain any knowledge of what was going on in the outside world. Once during the first few months after my arrest I had received tidings from Dale’s Field to the effect that all was well there, and that Ben was seeing to my affairs. But after that I had no more news, for Colonel Cotterel imposed many strict rules upon his captives, and would permit no letters to pass either in or out, fearing lest somewhat of a treasonable and dangerous nature should be communicated. Whether they were all well and alive at Dale’s Field, or some ailing and, perchance, dead, I did not know, which uncertainty often caused me many sad and weary thoughts.
It was towards the close of a summer evening when I drew near my house. Nothing seemed changed, so far as I could see from a hurried glance round the familiar objects. I thought as I stood at the orchard gate that I had never seen aught so beautiful as this homestead of mine, which my eyes then beheld for the first time for two long years. For the soft light of evening fell upon the house and the red-roofed buildings beyond, and the apple-trees in the orchard were in full bloom, and the great bushy lilacs were loaded with delicate clusters of blossom, and the honeysuckle that grew over the porch was covered with yellow flower. Everything was very still about the house, and I passed through the orchard unobserved, and speedily gained the window of my mother’s parlour. There I stole cautiously across the flowerbeds and peeped into the room, hoping to see some face that would light up with welcome at the sight of me. But the room was empty, and I stood at the window examining it, and marvelling to find that it had changed in nothing since I had last seen it. For there was my mother’s chair and table by the broad window-seat, and upon the table lay one of her religious books, and by its side some knitting work that she had evidently laid down on being called away to some household matter. Everything in that room, indeed, was just as it always had been, and it only needed her presence to make the picture spring into real life.
I left the window and went round the corner of the house, intending to enter by the kitchen door. But I had no sooner got round the great bushes of holly, with which our walls are surrounded on that side, than I saw a little group immediately before me, at sight of whom I stood still. There were Ben and Lucy and Rose, and they were listening to Jacob Trusty, who was leaning over the low wall of the fold and talking to them very earnestly. My footsteps had made no sound on the soft grass path, and they were unconscious of my presence. I stood for a moment watching them. Jacob was the only one whose face was towards me, and I noticed that he looked old, and aged, and careworn. Suddenly he lifted his head and saw me. The girls turned and gave a little cry of wonder and surprise, looking at first as if they did not know me—which would have been no wonder, for I had grown a great beard during my
