son, who was there within a yard or two of him.

“And take care, good Lord, of my son Jack, who hath gone to the wars, and bring him back to me, who have naught but him left to love⁠—”

“Father, father!” cried Jack, bursting in. “Here I am, father, back again, safe and sound.”

And so I left them looking into each other’s eyes, and went out and rode away in the darkness towards home.

XXIII

Of the Coming Near of War

Even as I had expected, Philip Lisle consented willingly to give up his Rose to my keeping. From our first time of meeting there had been a kind of fellow-feeling ’twixt him and me, and we had grown to love each other in more than ordinary friendliness, so that he felt that I was to be trusted with his daughter’s happiness. But neither he nor my mother would hear aught of marriage yet awhile. Better to wait, said they, even were it ten years, until the land was settled, than to marry in the midst of so much anxiety and trouble. For at any time, said Philip, the tide of war might surge round us with flame and bloodshed, and things might occur which would be harder to cope with married than single. Better to wait until the land was at rest and we could marry with peace all around us.

So now there was a double inducement to me to long for the ending of the war, and I looked forward to the coming of peace with a hot impatience. But peace was not to come upon us for many a long day yet. With the advent of spring in that year, , the rival armies began manoeuvring once more, and both sides became active in soliciting help and assistance. The King had taken up his headquarters at Oxford in readiness for the campaign, and had there gathered his army around him. Thither, ere spring was over, repaired Philip Lisle and Jack, having remained but a short time with us, and from them, at irregular intervals, came news of the war. At first their news was not over good. The King lost Reading. But then came tidings of success. The royal army overcame its opponents at Roundway Down and laid siege to Bristol. By the end of June that great city was in the King’s hands, and the counties of Devon, Somerset, Hampshire, and Wiltshire came under his power. The Parliamentarians began to lose heart. Hampden, one of their principal leaders, had been slain in a skirmish. The royal troops laid siege to Gloucester and seemed likely to take it. Everything looked rosy for the King’s cause, and loyal people began to pluck up a good spirit. There was some serious talk amongst the Parliamentarians of a treaty, which no doubt would have been carried out but for the pressure put upon the Commons by the London crowds, who swarmed round the House and refused to have any treaty. Then, however, came reverses to the King’s cause. The Earl of Essex raised the siege of Gloucester. Turning away from that city, he found the Royalist army barring his path at Newbury. A battle followed which neither side could claim. Essex continued his march. If it had not been for the fine powers of the Parliamentary infantry he would have suffered defeat, but the foot had been finely drilled and officered and withstood the fiery impulse of the Royalist charge with rocklike firmness. In this battle Falkland fell, weary, men said, of the war and its horrors. So matters stood after the battle of Newbury, each side being pretty much as it was before the campaign began.

But meanwhile there were other matters at work, as we heard through various channels. On the first day of July in that year the Synod known as the Westminster Assembly began to sit. It had two objects⁠—to make England Presbyterian, and to bring the Scots to the help of the Parliamentary army. Perhaps the latter was the real object, as Parson Drumbleforth said, and the former the means whereby it was to be achieved. For with the Scots it was a case of no Presbyterianism, no Scottish army. Then came the making of that famous matter the Solemn League and Covenant, which was signed by members of Parliament who thereby bound themselves to bring the religion of England, Scotland, and Ireland into conformity. This Solemn League and Covenant became everywhere the test of faithfulness to the Parliamentary cause. Its effect began to be seen at once. The fierce, persecuting spirit of the Presbyterian broke out on every side. Anything that savoured of Episcopacy was ruthlessly destroyed or mutilated. The Cross at Cheapside was broken to pieces, and a similar fate soon overtook Charing Cross. The images, crucifixes, and altars of the ancient parish churches were destroyed; the painted windows were broken, and the spirit of wanton mischief seemed to be let loose throughout the land. The Earl of Manchester went to Cambridge and drove out from the University all who refused to fall in with the Covenant. There had been much talk about the persecution of the King, but under the new regime men were not even permitted to think for themselves. Anything more intolerant of other men’s opinions than the Presbyterianism of that day there could not be.

Now, however, rose up a new party, which combated the cruel intolerance of the Presbyterians, and finally vanquished it. The Independents, as they were called, were for liberty of conscience. They wanted it for themselves, and what they desired for themselves they were just enough to wish others to enjoy. They pleaded for full liberty for all men, Turks, Papists, Socinians, as for themselves. The Puritans, iron-bound and rigid in their love of mere outward uniformity, regarded this new doctrine with horror. They wished to keep the three kingdoms under their own rule, and to stamp out every other form of worship than

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