VOLUME II.
The idea of one day withdrawing from the world to prepare for immortality is a very pernicious one; and, like all other worldly hopes and plans, may never he realized. Use the present hour if you would make your calling and election sure. If God has placed you among the pomps and vanities of the world, fear not; do your duty amongst them, nor suppose that you may defer seeking your Creator until you obtain a retired situation.
Fenelon.
The re-union of the family at Oxford furnished ample topics for pious and affectionate gratitude. Barton's praise was re-echoed by every individual except Mrs. Mellicent, who yet went so far as to say, it was a pity he was a roundhead. A friend of Dr. Beaumont's accommodated his family with apartments in one of the colleges; his academical sinecures, and the relics of his private fortune, afforded him a decent support; he was surrounded by people of his own principles; and as all the strength of the King's cause was concentrated about the seat of the court, every apprehension of personal insecurity was at an end. He was now, therefore, in a state of comparative comfort; man is seldom placed in a better; and in times like those I describe, a good subject could not be happy.
Eustace felt much chagrin that all his expectations were not realized. He was indeed at liberty, and with his uncle, but still forbidden "to flesh his maiden sword." His father had again eluded his search, and was still withheld from procuring an explanatory interview with the sovereign whom he faithfully served, which, he determined, should precede his son's taking the field. His troop had been recalled from the royal escort, and ordered to rejoin the Marquis of Newcastle, who, after having long successfully opposed Sir Thomas Fairfax, was in imminent danger of having his laurels blasted by the threatened invasion of the Scots Covenanters, now gathering to assist their English friends, and compel an universal adoption of Presbyterian government, and abjuration of constitutional monarchy. It was impossible, therefore, for Eustace to obtain the permission for which his soul panted; and academic repose ill suited the self-devoted soldier. His retirement was spent in a somewhat similar way to that of Toby Shandy. He read descriptions of battles and sieges; he planned ravelins and counterscarps; and he braced his frame, and exercised his muscles, by every athletic exertion which could inure him to toil, or facilitate his success in arms.
Constantia felt quite happy. She was surrounded by all whom her heart best loved; she had leisure and opportunity to improve her taste in the fine arts; and she was allowed that limited and distant view of the world which informs the mind and polishes the manners without endangering principle. Her exquisite beauty could not fail to attract attention; but the scanty income of her father, and the prudence of Mrs. Mellicent, alike forbade that it should be ostentatiously exposed to the public eye. A few select friends were admitted as intimates, and only these knew that Dr. Beaumont had a superlatively lovely and enchanting daughter. She seldom appeared in public except at church, where her face was so shaded by her hood, that its attractions were rather guessed at than discovered. Thus this fair rose-bud expanded in the soil best suited to perfect its attractions, the sheltered vale of domestic privacy, where, unconscious of its super-eminence, and screened from every blast, it preserved the undying fragrance of modest worth, and the soft elegance of unassuming beauty.
Isabel was almost as happy as usual; her adoration of her father would not permit her to be quite so while he was in danger. Beside, she could not help thinking how shocking it would be, were the chance of war to oppose him to the noble young officer who had so admirably planned and faithfully executed their deliverance. If he should fall by the hand of her father!—the bare possibility of such a cruel return for his goodness often brought tears into her eyes; and she lamented that the incautious impetuosity of Eustace prevented Barton from entrusting them with his name. She fancied the preservation of their deliverer was her only motive for wishing to trace his identity, till she recollected how little could be gained towards that end by knowing who he was. In these perilous times messengers oftener miscarried than arrived in safety; and the sanctity of private correspondence was violated by either party as often as opportunity served. All, but the exemplary Lord Falkland, thought the least doubt of the fidelity of an adherent a sufficient vindication of breaking open his letters; and therefore, since, if she knew the stranger's name, she could not repeat it without endangering his safety, it was better she should remain in ignorance, and trust the event to Providence. She sometimes thought Williams knew him, because he once accounted for Barton's secrecy by observing that his pupil might be sprung from parents whom he was ashamed to own. Isabel answered that the faults of the basest could not contaminate so perfect a character. "Would you say so," returned Williams, "if he were the son of Lord Bellingham?" "I know nothing of Lord Bellingham," said she, "except that when my dear father was discomposed, he often called him by very harsh epithets; but as at these moments he knew neither me nor Eustace, nor even my mother, till her sobbings attracted his notice, and told him she was his faithful wife, I think I should not conclude Lord Bellingham to be a very wicked man on such testimony."
Williams asked her if she ever heard him mentioned while she was with the rebel detachment.
"Our good Barton," returned she, "sometimes spoke of him as one who was reputed too be a godly man, and who filled his house with devout ministers, yet was of a very pleasant companionable humour, steady in the good cause, but willing to come to terms with the King, whom he wished not to be pushed to extremities. Barton seemed to think Lady Bellingham was too much wedded to a vain world."