“Yes, here,” said Walter, showing him where, a little further off on the same slope, a little clear spring rose in a natural basin of red earth, fringed along the top with fresh green mosses.
“Delicious!” said the tired soldier, kneeling over the spring, scooping it up in his hand to drink, opening his collar, and bathing hands and face in the clear cool fountain, till his long black hair hung straight, saturated with wet.
“Now, Bayard, it is your turn,” and he patted the good steed as it sucked up the refreshing water, and Walter proceeded to release it from saddle and bridle. Edmund, meanwhile, stretched himself out on the mossy bank, asked a few questions about his mother, Rose, and the other children, but was too tired to say much, and presently fell sound asleep, while Walter sat by watching him, grieving for the battle lost, but proud and important in being the guardian of his brother’s safety, and delighting himself with the thought of bringing him home at night.
More was happening at home than Walter guessed. The time of his absence seemed very long, more especially when the twilight began to close in, and Lady Woodley began to fear that he might, with his rashness, have involved himself in some quarrel with the troopers in the village. Lady Woodley and her children had closed around the wood fire which had been lighted on the hearth at the approach of evening, and Rose was trying by the bad light to continue her darning of stockings, when a loud hasty knocking was heard at the door, and all, in a general vague impression of dread, started and drew together.
“Oh my lady!” cried Deborah, “don’t bid me go to the door, I could not if you offered me fifty gold caroluses! I had rather stand up to be a mark—”
“Then I will,” said Rose, advancing.
“No, no, Mistress Rose,” said Deborah, running forward. “Don’t I know what is fit for the like of you? You go opening the door to rogues and vagabonds, indeed!” and with these words she undrew the bolts and opened the door.
“Is this the way you keep us waiting?” said an impatient voice; and a tall youth, handsomely accoutred, advanced authoritatively into the room. “Prepare to—” but as he saw himself alone with women and children, and his eyes fell on the pale face, mourning dress, and graceful air of the lady of the house, he changed his tone, removed his hat, and said, “Your pardon, madam, I came to ask a night’s lodging for my father, who has been thrown from his horse, and badly bruised.”
“I cannot refuse you, sir,” said Lady Woodley, who instantly perceived that this was an officer of the Parliamentary force, and was only thankful to see that he was a gentleman, and enforced with courtesy a request which was in effect a command.
The youth turned and went out, while Lady Woodley hastily directed her daughters and servant. “Deborah, set the blue chamber in order; Rose, take the key of the oak press, Eleanor will help you to take out the holland sheets. Lucy, run down to old Margery, and bid her kill a couple of fowls for supper.”