Hayslope Grange | Page 5

the bitterest pang she
had ever felt, and be followed probably by weeks and months of
anxious suspense and dread, she would not hold him back--nay, she
would urge him to go at the call of duty, though all the sunshine of her
life would depart when he went; for months might pass before she
heard of him again, and he might be wounded, dying, or dead, and the
tidings never reach Hayslope Grange.
News travelled slowly in those days, and in the unsettled state of affairs
could not always be relied upon; but tidings reached Hayslope just now
that the Parliament had seized the Archbishop of Canterbury, and his
trial was now going on, the charges against him being that he had tried
to subvert civil and religious liberty in England, had been the author of
illegal and tyrannical proceedings in the court of Star Chamber, and
had suppressed godly ministers and godly preaching.
But to the family at Hayslope Grange these charges were as nothing
compared to the guilt the Parliament had incurred in seizing an
anointed prelate.
Master Drury lifted up his hands in silent horror when he heard it, and
Mistress Mabel burst into tears. The sight of their stern aunt crying
seemed to make more impression upon Bessie and Bertram than the
fate of the archbishop.
"Was he very wicked?" asked Bessie.
This was enough to drive back Mistress Mabel's tears. "Wicked!" she
repeated, in anger. "Never let me hear you ask such a question about
one of the Lord's anointed, Bessie, unless you would share in the sin of
those who have laid violent hands upon him."
"It is sacrilege," uttered Master Drury, slowly and solemnly.
Mistress Mabel, who did not often talk, found her tongue now, and
used it too, denouncing in the strongest terms the doings of the
Parliament. "What is to be the end of this evil generation, that worketh

such wickedness?" she said at last; and then, as if answering the query,
went on, "The land shall be desolate, and all the people perish." Bessie
and Bertram looked frightened. "What does that mean?" whispered the
little girl; "won't the people in the village have anything to eat, because
they are cruel to the archbishop?"
It was almost the first time any one at the Grange had thought of their
poor neighbours, and the burden they were silently bearing under these
great changes. Taxes were high, food was scarce, and many of the men
had joined the King's army; but none of the Drurys had thought of these
things except Harry, and it was the little scraps of news he heard in the
village that first led him to doubt whether the royal cause were the just
one.
He and Gilbert Clayton were absent when the news concerning the
archbishop first reached Hayslope; but when they returned in the
evening Harry knew that something had happened, by the look of
anxious trouble on his father's face, and the querulous restlessness of
his aunt.
"What is the matter, Mary?" he asked, in an anxious whisper.
But Mary only held up her finger warningly. "The servants are coming
in," she murmured; and at the same moment Mistress Mabel placed the
Bible in front of the high-backed chair at the head of the table, and
Master Drury slowly took his seat.
Prayers for the King, Gilbert and Harry could both join in; for they
hoped God would change his heart, and teach him that it was most
unkingly to break his promises again and again, as he had done. But
to-night it seemed that Master Drury could think of nothing but of the
evil-doing of the Parliament in bringing the archbishop to trial; and he
prayed that all their plans might be frustrated, the King brought back to
his throne, and the archbishop restored to his charge; while those who
had troubled them might be visited with dire calamities and afflictions.
His prayer was not concluded when Harry started from his knees and
said, in a hoarse voice, "Stop, my father, I pray you; you know not for

what you are asking."
All turned to look at him in silent, speechless wonder--all but Gilbert
Clayton, who rose from his knees and laid his hand upon Harry's
shoulder. "Come away," he whispered.
But Harry would not stir. "My father must not pray thus," he said, loud
enough for any one to hear.
Master Drury and the rest slowly rose from their knees.
"Harry, my boy, you are ill," said the gentleman, in a tone of
compassion.
"Prithee, now tell me where you have been racing all the day, to get
your head so disordered," said Mistress Mabel; and she despatched
Mary to her store closet for some herb tea for Harry to take at once.
"I don't