"I heard at de Wick that Charles Stuart is slain."
"Dr. Verity believes not such a report. He says, however, that the war is over. The Royalists have now neither army nor leader. Now, Jane, make some haste. Put carefully away what is to be left, and pack a small box with such clothing as you must take with you. Joslyn, the carrier, will bring the rest. To-morrow being Sabbath, we can do nothing towards our journey but on Monday all must be finished."
It troubled Jane that there was so little sense of triumph. "The greatest victory that had ever been in England" appeared quite a secondary thing to Mrs. Swaffham in comparison with the hurried journey to London, and all it implied. An unspeakable fear had been lifted from every heart, and yet, instead of the great rejoicing which would have been fit and natural, there was a little ennui and forgetfulness—a feeling which if it had found words might have said, "There, now, the trouble is over. We have felt all we can feel. We would rather sit down and cry a little than shout to the church bells clanging all over England. We have given of ourselves freely while need was, now the need is over, let us alone."
Such an appearance of ingratitude troubled Jane in her very soul. Cromwell so eagerly looked for, so mighty to help, had not been even named. "What ingrates mortals are!" she thought bitterly, "what ingrates both to God and man. Yet had my father been here, he would have called the house together and thanked God for His help by the hand of Oliver Cromwell."
To such thoughts she worked rapidly. Her little box was soon packed, her room put in order, and she was beginning to wonder if Dr. Verity's sleep was delaying supper, when there was a sharp, impatient knock at the door. Before she could in any way answer it, Matilda de Wick entered and threw herself on her knees at Jane's side.
"You said you would help me," she cried; "you said you would, with heart and hands! Now, Jane, keep your word! It is life or death! Have pity on me! Have pity on me!"
"What is it, Matilda? What is it you wish?"
"It is Stephen; it is his friend Hugh Belward. They are searching de Wick for them now. I have brought them to you. Father told me to come here. I could go nowhere else, I had no time. Jane, for God's sake save them; not for my sake, not for pity's sake, but for God's sake save them! They are now outside this door—they may be seen by some servant—let them enter—may I open the door? Jane, speak. There is not a moment to lose. The men seeking them may be on their way here—Jane, Jane! Why don't you let them in? You said you would help me! Oh, for God's dear sake!"
"How can I do what you ask me, Matilda? Think of what you ask——"
"I know; I ask life for two poor souls ready to perish. One of them loves you—Jane, speak—why are you waiting?"