The Lion's Whelp

At nine o'clock her mother brought her a possett and toast, and she took them gratefully. "Is father home?" she asked.

"Yes, Jane. He came in an hour ago with Doctor Verity."

"Have they any word of – "

"I fear not. They would have told me at once. I haven't seen much of them. There were lots of things undone, and badly done, to look after. The wenches and the men have been on the streets all day, and the kitchen is upside down. You never saw the like. I am tired of this Cromwell business, I am that. Phoebe was abusing him roundly as she jugged the hare for supper, and I felt kindly to her for it. 'You are a pack of time-serving turncoats,' she was saying as I went into the kitchen; 'you would drink as much ale to-morrow to King Charles as you have drunk to-day to old Noll Cromwell.' And as she was stirring the pot, she did not know I was there, until I answered, 'You speak God's truth, Phoebe!' Then she turned and said, 'I do, ma'am. And for that matter, they would drink to the devil, an he asked them with old October!' Then I stopped her saucy tongue. But I don't wonder at her temper – not a clean saucepan in the closets, and men and maids off their heads with ale and Cromwell together."

"If Doctor Verity gives you any opportunity will you speak about Cluny, mother?"

"You know I will. He and others will, maybe, have time for a word of kindness now. I'm sure the last few weeks have been past bearing – a nice mess the saints made of everything – London out of its seven senses, and the whole country screaming behind it; and the men who had a little sense, not knowing which road to turn. Now Cromwell has got his way, there will be only Cromwell to please, and surely a whole city full can manage that."

"I don't suppose he has ever thought of Cluny being so long over time."

"Not he! He has had things far closer to him to look after."

"But now?"

"Now he will inquire after the lad. Doctor Verity must speak to him. Dear Jane, do you suppose I don't see how you are suffering? I do, my girl, and I suffer with you. But even your father thinks we are worrying ourselves for nothing. He says Cluny will walk in some day and tell his own story – nothing worse than a fit of ague or fever, or even a wound from some street pad; perhaps a heavy snowstorm, or the swampy Netherlands under water. Men can't fight the elements, or even outwit them, dear. Mother is with you, Jane, don't you doubt that," and she stepped forward and clasped the girl to her breast, and kissed the tears off her cheeks. "Now drink your possett and go to sleep; something may happen while you are dreaming of it; the net of the sleeping fisherman takes just as well – better maybe – than if he kept awake to watch it."

So Jane laid herself down and slept, and if her angel came with a comforting thought or a happy vision, she found herself in a spotless room, white as a bride chamber, holding the scent of rosemary and roses from the pots on the window-sills, and prophesying strength and comfort in the Bible lying open at the forty-second and forty-third Psalms – "Why art thou cast down, O my soul? And why art thou disquieted in me? Hope thou in God; for I shall yet praise Him for the help of His countenance."

Jane's supposition that Doctor Verity would be with her father and that their talk would be only of Cromwell, was correct. Mrs. Swaffham found the two men smoking at the fireside, and their conversation was of the Man and the Hour. She sat down weary and sleepy, so much so, that she did not take the trouble to contradict Doctor Verity, though he was making, in her opinion, a very foolish statement.

"If you only assert a thing strong enough and long enough, Israel, you will convince the multitude. To-day, as I was passing Northumberland House, a party of musketeers stopped there, and cried, 'God save the Lord Protector!' and the crowd asserted in the most positive manner that the big lion on the house wagged its tail at the shout. Every one believed it, and looked at the beast admiringly; and I found it hard to keep my senses in the face of such strong assertion. Vain babble, but it took and pleased."

"I am sorry for Oliver Cromwell. Such a load as he has shouldered! Can he bear it?" said Israel.

"Through God's help, yes; and ten times over, yes! He is a great man," answered the Doctor.

"I think more of measures than of men," continued Israel.

"Very good. But something depends on the men, just as in a fire something depends on the grate," said the Doctor.

"Who would have thought the man we knew at Huntingdon and St. Ives had this man in him? And what a strange place for God to bring England's Deliverer out of. No captain from the battle-field, no doctor out of the colleges, but a gentleman farmer out of the corn market and the sheep meadows of Sedgy Ouse. 'Tis wonderful enough, Doctor."

"Great men, Israel, have always come from the most unlikely places. The desert and the wilderness, the sheepfolds and threshing floors bred the judges and prophets of Israel. From the despised village of Nazareth came the Christ. From the hot, barren deserts of Arabia, came Mahomet. From the arid plains of Picardy, came Calvin. From the misty, bare mountains of Scotland, came John Knox, and from the fogs and swamps of the Fen country, comes Oliver Cromwell. So it is, and should be. God chooses for great men, not only the time, but the place of their birth. The strength of Cromwell's character is in its mysticism, and this quality has been fed from its youth up by the monotony of his rural life, by the sombre skies above him, by his very house, which was like a deserted cloister buried in big trees. All those years Cromwell was being forged and welded by spiritual influences into the man of Naseby and Dunbar and Worcester – into the man who stepped grandly to the throne we saw him mount to-day."

"One thing is sure: he will set free all godly men in prison for conscience' sake – unless it be papists and prelatists. Yet 'tis hard to imprison men because they can't agree about caps and surplices."

"Such talk does not go to the root of the matter, Israel. Oliver, and men like him, look on papists and prelatists as Amorites and Amalekites to be rooted out, and as disloyal citizens to be coerced into obedience."

"I know papists that believe the Mass to be a holy obligation. They are sincere, Doctor; I know it."

"What of that, Israel? A good Puritan cares no more for their sincere opinions than the Jewish prophets cared about the scruples of a conscientious believer in Baal. Why should he?"

"Well, then, as to Episcopacy – a great number of Englishmen love it; and you can't preach nor teach Episcopacy out of them."

"Don't I know it? Popery without the Pope, that is what Englishmen want. They love ceremonies dearly; they love Episcopacy as they love Monarchy. Queen Elizabeth made an ordinance that at the name of Christ every woman should curtsy and every man bare his head. It went straight to the heart of England. Men and women loved Elizabeth for it, and bent their knees all the more willingly to herself. As for Cromwell, his zeal for the Protestant religion will be the key to every act of his reign. Take my word for it."

"Reign?"

"Yes, reign. He is King, call him what you like."

"As ruler – King or Protector – over papists, will it be right to hate them as bitterly as he does?"

"Right? Yes, a thousand times right. You must remember what his education and experience have been. From some who lived in Mary's reign he must have heard how Ridley and Latimer and Cranmer were burned in the streets of Oxford for their Protestantism. The whole awful history of Mary's reign was part of his education. He may have heard from eye-witnesses of the scene in the great square of Brussels when Horn and Egmont, champions of the Protestant faith, were beheaded by Alva's bloody Council. The Armada sent to conquer England and force on us by fire and sword the Catholic religion, was wrecked on our shores by God Almighty, only eleven years before Cromwell was born. The Popish Gunpowder Plot to blow up the King and the Parliament was discovered when he was six years old. Both of these last events were the staple of fireside conversations, and would be told him in wonderfully effective words by his grand-hearted mother, and you may be sure they were burned into the heart of the boy Oliver. He was old enough to understand the cruel murder of Henry by the Jesuits in Paris; he grew into his manhood during the thirty years' war of Catholic Europe against the Protestants. When he first entered Parliament, he was one of the Committee that investigated the brutal treatment of Prynne, Doctor Bastwick and the Rev. Mr. Burton. I think, indeed, that he witnessed these noble confessors pilloried and burned with hot irons and deprived of their ears, because they would none of Laud's surplices and mummeries. And both you and I witnessed his agonies of grief and anger at the frightful massacre by Phelim O'Neil of one hundred thousand Protestants in Ireland. How can Cromwell help hating popery and prelacy? How can any of us help it? Let us judge, not according to outward appearance, but with righteous judgment. Oliver will do his work, and he will do it well, and then go to Him who sent him. Verily, I believe he will hear the 'Well done' of his Master."

"And then?"

"The Commonwealth will be over. The soul of it will have departed – can it live afterwards?"

"Think you that our labour and lives have been wasted? No, no! We will be free of kings forever; we have written that compact with our blood."

"Not wasted, Israel, not wasted. The Puritan government may perish, the Puritan spirit will never die. Before these wars, England was like an animal that knew not its own strength; she is now better acquainted with herself. The people will never give up their Parliament and the rights the Commonwealth has given them, and if kings come back, they can be governed, as Davie Lindsey said, by 'garring them ken, they have a lith in their necks – '"

"If I survive the Puritan government," said Israel, "I will join the pilgrims who have gone over the great seas."

"I will go with you, Israel, but we will not call ourselves 'pilgrims.' No, indeed! No men are less like pilgrims than they who go, not to wander about, but to build homes and cities and found republics in the land they have been led to. They are citizens, not pilgrims."

At these words Mrs. Swaffham, who had listened between sleeping and waking, roused herself thoroughly. "Israel," she said, "I will not go across seas. It is not likely. Swaffham is our very own, and we will stay in Swaffham. And I do not think it is fair, or even loyal, in you and Doctor Verity, on the very day you have made a Protector for the Commonwealth to be prophesying its end. It is not right."

"It is very wrong, Martha, and you do well to reprove us," said Doctor Verity.

"And talking of going across seas," she continued, "reminds me of Cluny; neither of you seem to care about him, yet our Jane is fretting herself sick, and you might both of you see it."

"Tell Jane to be patient," said Doctor Verity. "If Cluny is not back by the New Year, I will go myself and bring him back. There is no need to fret; tell her that."

"Yet we must speak to Cromwell about the young man," said Jane's father; "there has likely been some letter or message from him, which in the hurry and trouble of the last month has been forgotten. You will see the Protector to-morrow, speak to him."

"If it is possible, Israel. But remember all is to arrange and rearrange, order and reorder, men to put out of office, and men to put into office. The work before the Protector is stupendous."

This opinion proved to be correct. Day after day passed, and no word concerning Cluny was possible; but about the New Year a moment was found in which to name the young man and wonder at his delay. Cromwell appeared to be startled. "Surely there must have been some word from him," he said. "I think there has. A letter must have come; it has been laid aside; if so, there could have been nothing of importance in it – no trouble, or I would have been told. Mr. Milton is fond of Lord Neville; so am I, indeed I am, and I will have inquiry made without delay."

"Without delay" in government inquiries may mean much time. The accumulated papers and letters of a month or more had to be examined, and when this was accomplished, nothing had been found that threw any light on Neville's detention. Yet no anxiety was expressed. Every one had such confidence in the young man; he was accustomed to the exigencies of travel, ready in resort, and brave and wise in emergencies. Cromwell made light of any supposition affecting his safety, and there was nothing then for Jane to do, but bear, and try to believe with those supposed to know better than herself, that the difficulties of winter travel in strange countries would easily account for her lover's non-appearance.

Thus, sad with the slow sense of time, and with grief void and dark, Jane passed the weary days. The world went on, her heart stood still. Yet it was in these sorrowful days, haunted by uncertain presentiments, that she first felt the Infinite around her. It was then that she began to look for comfort from within the veil, and to listen for some answering voice from the other life, because in this life there was none. Outside of these consolations she had only a bewildering fear, and she would have wept and worried her beauty away, had there not dwelt in her pure soul the perennial youth of silent worship. But this constantly renovating power was that fine flame of spiritual light in which physical beauty refines itself to the burning point. The greatest change was in her manner; a slight cold austerity had taken the place of her natural cheerfulness – this partly because she thought there was a want of sympathy in all around her, and partly because only by this guarded composure could she maintain that tearless reticence she felt necessary to her self-respect. Nevertheless, through her faith, her innocence, her high thought and her laborious peace, she set her feet upon a rock.

One crisp, sunny morning in January she suddenly resolved to make some inquiries herself. It was not an easy thing to do; all her education and all conventional feeling were against a girl taking such a step. But the misery of a grief not sure is very great, and Jane believed that her direct inquiries might be of some avail. She went first to Jevery House. Sir Thomas had a financial interest in Lord Neville's return, and it was likely he had made investigations, if no one else had. She expected to find him in his garden, and she was not disappointed; wrapped in furs, he was walking up and down the flagged pathway leading from the gates to the main door of the mansion. He was finding a great deal of pleasure in the green box borders and the fresh brown earth which, he said to Jane, was "nourishing and cherishing his lilies and daffodils. You must come again in three weeks, Jane," he added; "and perhaps you will see them putting out their little green fingers." Jane answered, "Yes, sir;" but immediately plunged into the subject so near her.

"Have you heard anything about Lord Neville, Sir Thomas?" she asked. "I must tell you that he is my lover; we were betrothed with my parents' consent, and I am very, very unhappy at his long delay."

"So am I," answered Sir Thomas. "I sent a trusty man to The Hague, and it seems Lord Neville collected the money due me there, six weeks ago. A singular circumstance in this connection is that he refused a note on the Leather Merchants' Guild of this city, and insisted on being paid in gold, and was so paid. Now, Jane, a thousand sovereigns are not easily carried, – and – and – "

"Well, sir? Please go on."

"A ship left that night for the Americas – for the Virginia Colony."

"But Lord Neville did not go to America. Oh, no, sir! That is an impossible thought."

"Well, then, there is this alternative: the merchant who paid him the money died a few days afterwards of smallpox. Was there infection in the money? Did Lord Neville take the smallpox and die?"

"But if he had been sick he would have known the danger, and written some letter and provided for the safety of the property in his charge. He knew many people in The Hague. This supposition is very unlikely."

"Why did he insist on the gold? This is the thing that troubles me."

"Who says he insisted on gold?"

"The widow of the man who paid it."

"She may have been mistaken. She may herself be dishonest. The money may never have been paid at all. I do not believe it has been paid. Did your trusty man see Lord Neville's quittance?"

"I have not thought of that, Jane. I was troubled at the story, and accepted it as it was given. It was too painful and suspicious to examine."

"For that reason it must be sifted to the very bottom. That Dutch widow has the money, doubtless. Did your messenger ask her to describe Lord Neville? Did he ask her any particulars of the interview? It is easy to say the thousand pounds were paid. I do not believe her."

"Well, my little mistress, your faith infects me. I will send again to The Hague."

"Yes, sir, and let your messenger ask to see Lord Neville's quittance. Cluny did not receive from any one a thousand pounds without an acknowledgment of the payment. Let the woman show it."

"You are right. I will make further inquiries at once."

"To-day, sir? Please, to-day, sir."

"I will send a man to The Hague to-day."

"Thank you, Sir Thomas. Can I now see Lady Jevery and Lady Matilda?"

"My dear, they are both at de Wick. A week ago my niece received a letter from the man who bought the estate. He urged them to come and see him. He said he had not long to live, and that before he went away he had some most important intelligence, vitally affecting the de Wicks, to communicate. My niece thought it prudent, even necessary, to make the visit; and Lady Jevery went with her. In a couple of weeks I shall go for them."

"But before you go – "

"I have said 'to-day,' Mistress Jane. I will keep my promise. Why do you not see the Protector? He was fond of the young man; he believed in him."

She only answered, "Yes, sir," and then adding, "Good-morning, sir," she turned to go. Her face was so white and so full of hopeless disappointment, he could not endure to keep its memory a moment. Hastening after her, he said, "My dear little mistress, I am certain of one thing – if there is any wrong about this matter it is not Lord Neville's fault, it is his misfortune."

She received this acknowledgment with a grateful smile, yet her whole appearance was so wretched Sir Thomas could not rid himself of her unhappy atmosphere. His walk was spoiled; he went into his private room and smoked a pipe of Virginia, but all his thoughts set themselves to one text: "There are many sorrowful things in life, but the hardest of all is loving."