A little later the whole country was in a state of excitement. Charles was recalled to England, the Royalists were jubilant, while the Puritans looked forward with dread to the dark days which they felt sure were near at hand.
"We will go to meet the king," cried my father.
"What!" I cried in astonishment, for my father had declared that he would never again have aught to do with a Stuart.
"Ay, we will go and meet him, Roland. You and I will ride together. There are still two good horses left in the stables, and we will dress ourselves in a way befitting gentlemen, and we will go to Dover, and shout 'God save the King!' with the rest of the crowd."
"But why?" I asked, for I felt no love for the man whom the people were already calling "His Gracious Majesty King Charles II, the Lord's Anointed One."
"Ay, and that you shall know before the sun goes down," he replied.
I looked at him in astonishment, for he had cast off the old look of hopelessness and indifference so common to him, and seemed to believe that brighter days were coming.
"Do you believe in the new king?" I asked.
"I believe a Stuart!" he replied, with scorn. "Nay, not so my son."
"Men speak of him as a man with an open and generous nature," I suggested.