"This is a most disgraceful retreat, I must say, Dick," observed Charles.
"I should like to have knocked the dust out of Roger Bushell's jerkin," rejoined Dick. "But I am certain he has got some rebels with him, or he would not have dared to act thus."
[CHAPTER VIII.]
HOW THE KING WAS RECEIVED BY MR. FRANCIS WOOLFE AT MADELEY COURT.
It was past midnight when Charles approached Madeley, an ancient moated mansion, built of stone, and very pleasantly situated on the borders of the Severn. It belonged to Mr. Francis Woolfe, an old Cavalier, and father of the gallant Captain Woolfe, who figured at an earlier period of this history. As the hour was late, Mr. Woolfe and his family, with the whole of his household, had long since retired to rest, but they were disturbed by a loud knocking at the door, which continued with very little intermission until the old gentleman got up, and, accompanied by his butler, went to see what was the matter. On opening the door he found Richard Penderel, who was well known to him, and without giving the forester time to explain his errand, eagerly inquired whether he brought any tidings of Captain Woolfe.
"I know my son was present at the battle of Worcester," cried the old Cavalier; "and I fear he may be wounded, as I have not heard of him since."
"I am sorry I cannot relieve your honour's anxiety respecting your son," replied Dick. "But well knowing how staunch a Royalist you are, I am come to beg you to hide a fugitive Cavalier, who fought, like Captain Woolfe, at Worcester."
"Don't ask me to do it, Dick!—don't ask me!—I dare not harbour a Royalist!" cried Mr. Woolfe. "Willingly—right willingly would I do so, but there is too much hazard in it. I am already suspected by the rebels—there is a company of militia at Madeley, guarding the bridge and the river—and were they to search my house and find a fugitive Royalist concealed within it I should be most heavily fined—perhaps imprisoned—perhaps put to death! No, Dick, I will not run this risk for any one, except the king himself."
"Then what will your honour say when I tell you that he whom I ask you to shelter from his enemies is the king? The loyal Mr. Francis Woolfe, I am well assured, will never refuse his sovereign an asylum."