The Broken Font: A Story of the Civil War, Vol. 2 (of 2), Page 2

  CHAP. II.

  Thus would I teach the world a better way, For the recovery of a wounded honour, Than with a savage fury, not true courage, Still to run headlong on. MASSINGER.

  There is no earthly consolation under sorrow of a more noble kind thanthat of witnessing and of promoting the happiness of those whom weknow to deserve our affection. Katharine had not experienced for along time a feeling of joy so true as that, with which, in thesolitude of her chamber, she reflected upon what had just passedbetween herself and Juxon. She saw him go out, with hasty steps,towards the avenue where Jane was walking alone, and she rightlyinterpreted that check and change of his resolutions which made himturn suddenly away. But she determined that the work which she hadbegun should not be left long incomplete, and that Jane Lambert shouldat once know of the revelation which she had made to Juxon thatmorning. She regretted having uttered a syllable during theirinterview which could operate to discourage Juxon from an immediateavowal of the impression which Jane's conduct had made upon his heart.Most true it was that, in the present posture of public affairs, itcould not be advisable for any one, and more especially for aclergyman, to enter into the state of matrimony, and it was amelancholy thing to form engagements which might never be fulfilled.Here, however, she could not but admit there was room for an exceptionto the common rules of prudence. Juxon and Jane Lambert were notordinary characters. She knew that Juxon had of late taken a mostserious view of the duties which were imposed on him as the rector ofa parish, and that he had decided to guide and guard his flock withvigilance and courage as long as the spirit of persecution wouldsuffer him to do so. While, therefore, many of the clergy were forarming themselves, and for accompanying the King's forces in thefield, he resisted that natural inclination, and that easy escape intothe security of a camp, by preparing to abide the visitations of thestorm at his appointed post. The path of duty, however dangerous andexposed, is always that of peace; nevertheless, the age, the activehabits, and the resolute spirit of Juxon made a vast and necessarydifference between his course and that of the mild old parson ofCheddar. As Katharine revolved all these matters in her mind, shebecame reconciled to the thought of seeing her beloved Jane united atonce to the man so well worthy of possessing her. The sole difficultywould be the reluctance of Juxon to expose a woman to those chances ofdistress and privation which alone he could cheerfully endure.

  Katharine had long foreseen that the moment would arrive when SirOliver and herself must quit Milverton; and until the late disclosureof Jane, she had fully reckoned upon that dear girl as the companionof their wanderings and the friend of her bosom; but now it seemed aduty to resign that comfort. However, there was one procedure by whichit might be retained. If, when it became necessary for the royalistgentry to quit their homes, George Juxon would accompany the family towhatever city they might select as a temporary and secure residence,his marriage with Jane might soon take place, and there would be nointerruption of her own sweet intercourse with her friend. Somethoughts like these had passed through the mind of Juxon as he pacedup and down the terrace, full of that hope which is dashed with fear.While he was thus taking counsel of his own heart, Sir Charles Lambertarrived at Milverton, and, in company with Sir Oliver and Arthur,descended the steps and joined him. Sir Charles had for some time pastappeared to so great advantage by the manner in which he had comeforward in the royal cause, that he was considered, even by Juxon, athoroughly changed man. There was a carefulness in his language, whichgreatly contrasted with his former coarseness. His manners were notonly grave and composed, but there was an urbanity in his address,which made a frank-hearted person like Juxon ashamed of not being ableto like him. He thought him of a better capacity than he had oncegiven him credit for, and was not willing to believe that, under allthis outward improvement of his words and ways, his heart could remainunaffected. Moreover, there seemed no adequate reason for his assuminga false exterior, nor for any design which he might not openly avow.He attributed this amendment of character to secret compunction forhis violence and brutality towards Cuthbert Noble; to that elevationof sentiment which a new position and great duties might and ought toproduce; and to those considerations of death as an event possible andnear, which the hazards of the approaching contest might naturallysuggest to the least serious of men. "What think you, Master Juxon,"said Sir Oliver, "our cousin Charles hath just had a letter fromYorkshire from Sir Thomas Leigh, who saith that we may soon expect hismost gracious Majesty in these parts, and that he hopes to possesshimself of Coventry and raise Warwickshire, and make a good stand inthis county, if Essex should march hither: in that case, you see, weshall not need to quit Milverton; and the battle may be fought so nearhome, that even Kate will see how fit it is that I should be in thefield. Gout or no gout, I can get as far as Stoneleigh Abbey, and meethis Majesty."

  "I am afraid the King reckons without his host," answered Juxon: "Idoubt if the gates of Coventry will open more readily for him thanthose of Hull:--the citizens there are all for the parliament."

  "The citizens of Coventry be hanged," said Sir Charles: "they haveonly their own train bands to man the walls,--a set of knock-knee'drascals:--why, a squib in their breeches would clear theirmarket-place."

  "Yes," said Arthur; "and they would run like rats to their holes atthe very clatter of a horse-hoof."

  "Perhaps they might, Arthur," said Juxon smiling; "but the matter willbe to get this horse into the streets, and this squib into themarket-place."

  Sir Charles, who well knew that Juxon was no coward, bit his lips,and said, "Really I cannot think what is come to you, parson: you arealways now a prophet of evil:--why the cause of the King would soon bedown, if all had such faint hearts about it as you have."

  "Faint hearts, sir, are fond of feeding on false hopes; stout heartslook at naked dangers without blenching. The notion that a rebellionof citizens can be put down by a few horses is foolish. It prevents,first, earnest preparations to subdue it; and, at last, when these areattempted, they prove too late, and altogether ineffectual."

  "Well, Juxon, Sir Oliver here and I have done our parts, and shall dothem to the last: your words don't touch me; but I must say, you loveto damp us; I hope, however, that the boy cares as little for you as Ido."

  "You need not to be rude as well as angry, Sir Charles."

  "Rude! methinks you forget yourself!--a truce to all compliments. Didyou not call me faint-hearted?"

  "Your memory is short indeed, Sir Charles, not to remember who firstused the word."

  "Come, come," interrupted the old knight, "I wo'n't have any fallingout between friends. Are we not all king's men, loyal and true? It maybe, Sir Charles, that Juxon sees further into matters than we do; buthis heart is with us."

  "That may seem clear to you, Sir Oliver:--time will show us all men intheir true colours: I have been right once before, and I may be rightagain."

  "What do you mean?" asked Juxon, reddening with anger: "do you doubtmy loyalty, sir?"

  The evil temper of Sir Charles was so strong within him, that,desirous only of vexing Juxon to the uttermost, he replied with asneer, "You have taken care to secure yourself a friend in the enemy'scamp; so that your parsonage at Old Beech will be quite safe, comewhat may; and you mean to stick by it, as I am told."

  "It is an insinuation as false as it is base to suspect and utter it:try me not farther, or you will make me forget my sacred calling."

  "You are not likely to do that by what I hear of your doings at OldBeech. You preach like a Puritan already: it were a pity to lose a fatrectory if the Parliament get uppermost."

  The mean and cruel turn, which Sir Charles thus gave to his maliciouscharge, so startled and affected Juxon, who had always been bothhonest and earnest in his pulpit, that he paused in his reply,--andwas sending up a swift ejaculation to Heaven for the grace ofpatience, when Sir Oliver angrily interposed.

  "Zounds and thunder, Sir Charles, you might have remembered, among thedoings of F
riend Juxon, that he has furnished right stout troopersfrom his own purse, and that every man in his parish, capable ofbearing arms, who can be spared from home, has been sent off alreadyto carry a pike for King Charles. I think the devil is in thee, orthat yellow Margery hath crossed thy path this morning."

  The mention of yellow Margery was never pleasant to Sir Charles, and ascowl came over his brow at the sound of her name; but he answered ina dogged and sullen manner,--"Ay, that is all very well: it is good tohave two strings to one's bow. I suppose, Master Juxon will not denythat that canting fanatic, Cuthbert Noble, is his friend. My steward,who came last night from Hertfordshire, saw the vile hypocrite, withtuck and partizan, on guard in the market-place at St. Albans. Yourgrave tutor is a lieutenant of pikemen. I hope I shall ride over therascal some fine day."

  "A fanatic he may be--a hypocrite he cannot be; and you say truly thatI am his friend; but I will not trust myself with another word--I mustreturn home. Sir Charles, from henceforth I shall look on you as astranger; and did it become my cloth I would chastise you."

  "Insolent priest! thy cloth is thy protection," said Sir Charles,advancing with a lifted hunting whip, as if to strike Juxon.

  "You need not come between us, Sir Oliver," said Juxon, with a look ofquiet scorn: "in spite of the anger in his heart, he knows when to beprudent."

  "Odd's life!" said the old knight, "I will have no more ill blood atMilverton:--look you, go your ways, both of you, and sleep over it,and come here again to-morrow, and let us make all up. You are bothright, and both wrong--faults on both sides; that is always the storyof a quarrel."

  With these words he took Juxon by the hand and shook it kindly,adding, "There go, man, get your horse; you'll be yourself againbefore you reach home. Here, Arthur, boy, go with him, and callRichard to saddle his hobby.--I'll make Sir Charles listen to reason."

  This easy and indolent mode of confounding right and wrong, andescaping out of the proper and severe course of honourable judgment,was by no means agreeable to the upright and manly Juxon. He coldlygave his hand, and wishing Sir Oliver a good morning, ascended thesteps with Arthur, casting a look of silent and expressive indignationat Sir Charles, who regarded him in return with violent eyes andcheeks livid with rage.

  As Juxon and Arthur passed round to the side of the mansion facing thecourt-yard, they saw Katharine Heywood and Jane Lambert standingtogether under the shade of a tree, in earnest conversation. At thesound of the approaching footsteps they turned their heads; and it wasevident to George Juxon that the subject of their discourse wasconnected with what had already passed at the interview betweenKatharine and himself that very morning.

  "Oh! what a thing is man! how far from power, From settled peace and rest! He is some twenty sev'ral men, at least, Each sev'ral hour."

  The sweet and sudden calm which fell upon the roused and troubledpassions of Juxon at the very sight of Jane Lambert brought thatstanza of Herbert's to his memory, and he gave utterance to it as hejoined and stood with them for a few moments, while Arthur wentforward to order out his horse.

  If Katharine had not already told her friend that Juxon was now trulyinformed of all those circumstances which, at the time, must ofnecessity have perplexed him about her conduct and her probableengagement, the expression of his fine eyes would have revealed to herthat grateful fact. There is a silent eloquence in the look of onewho truly and fondly loves which needs no interpreter. The avowal ofhis attachment, which he had upon principle resolved to suppress, hiseyes, prompted by the pulses of his heart, spoke as plainly to Jane asthough she had heard it from his lips in all the language of ardourand admiration.

  Katharine questioned him reproachingly on the cause of his suddenreturn to Old Beech, but he excused himself without betraying the truereason. They gave credit to his simple assurance that it was notpossible for him to prolong his visit at present; and with a tenderpressure of the hand he took his leave of Jane, promising Katharinethat he would soon ride over to Milverton again.

  It was not till his horse had turned the distant corner of the road,and was lost to view, that Arthur came in from the outer gate; and thedistress and dejection of the youth were so plainly to be read in hiscountenance, that Katharine took him aside to ask what was the matter.He related to her the quarrel between Juxon and Sir Charles Lambertjust as it had occurred. She heard it with more pain than surprise,for she was well aware of the unaltered nature of Sir Charles; and sheknew that he cherished mean and vindictive feelings towards Juxon forhis conduct at the time of his own ferocious assault on CuthbertNoble, and for all his subsequent kindness and friendship to thatinjured student. On one account she very deeply regretted thisoccurrence. It could not fail to put a very serious obstacle in theway of that union between Jane Lambert and Juxon which she had justindulged herself with the hope she might soon have the happiness ofseeing perfected at the altar.

  The reflections of Juxon himself, as he rode homewards, were of acomplexion as varied as the face of an April sky. His thoughts wereovershadowed by many a cloud of fear, and care, and coming sorrow,while ever and anon they became glad and bright as if coloured withblue sky and sunbeams, and the rainbow of hope. Notwithstanding hisuncomfortable quarrel with Sir Charles, it was a day to be marked inhis calendar with a white stone. The day was so hot, that he walkedhis horse leisurely all the way; and when he had gone about half thedistance between Milverton and Old Beech, he pulled up near a watertrough, under the shadow of a majestic old oak, and dismounted. Therewas a bank of earth round the trunk of the tree, on which he seatedhimself: his beast stood indolently still, after having dipped itsnose in the trough; and both rider and horse luxuriated in the coolshade. The murmur of the spring that fed the trough was the only soundto be heard; and the loneliness of the spot, for it was in the middleof a common, suggested pleasing thoughts of gratitude for the humancharity which had thus provided for the comfort and refreshment of manand his dumb companions in labour. By a natural train of associationsthe mind of Juxon was led to reflect on charity in its more high andheavenly signification, and on those works which it should produce. Heconsidered what the earth would be if subjected to the law of love,and what it really was. He bethought him of the mission and office ofthe Prince of Peace: he remembered that he was a minister of that newand glorious covenant announced by the voice of angels in a heavenlymelody,--"Peace on earth, good will towards men." He mused upon thetitles by which ministers are designated,--watchmen, shepherds,--andhe was more than ever confirmed in his resolution to remain with hisflock at Old Beech during the coming troubles. "'The hirelingfleeth,'" said he to himself, "'because he is an hireling.' Why was Iso moved at the taunt of malignity and ignorance? How strong a thingmust be the fear of man, when I can allow myself to fear the opinionof one whom I despise, and whom, in truth, I ought to pity; when I candare to wish for an opportunity of showing on the battle-field that myheart is English, loyal, and true. I am priest of the temple; I willdefend my church porch to the last, and keep out the wolf as long as Ican." As Juxon was thus occupied in sober meditation, he heard thetramp of a horse galloping across the common, in the direction ofMilverton. On looking up, he instantly knew the horse and the figureof Sir Charles Lambert. He felt certain that nothing but a fit ofboiling and ungovernable anger would have led to this swift pursuit ofhim, and was at no loss to conjecture the nature of the trial forwhich he must prepare. Juxon never rode from home in those unquietdays without pistols; but come what might from the violence of thisinfuriated man, he resolved that nothing should induce him to use themin his defence. Although as a clergyman he could not wear a sword, yethe often carried with him a cane of Italian invention, which containeda sword-blade, and by means of a secret spring threw out a small guardat the handle, which supplied a hilt, and thus, if at any timeassaulted with the sword, he was furnished with some, though animperfect, weapon of resistance. He was fortunately thus provided onthe present occasion.

  Sir Charles no sooner reached the spot than he threw himselfimpetuo
usly from his horse, and said with a loud oath, "This shallsettle our difference for ever." At the same time he drew his rapier,and advanced upon his antagonist.

  Juxon, without a word, took a defensive posture, and opposing hiscane-sword to that of Sir Charles, parried his fierce passes with sucha quick eye and so strong a hand, that, in a rencontre which could nothave lasted two minutes, he twisted the sword of his opponent from hisangry grasp, and made it fly several yards off. He as immediatelysecured it. "By hell, you shall not escape me!" said Sir Charles,frantic with vexation; and plucking a pistol from his belt, hedischarged it at Juxon as he returned from picking up the sword. Theball struck the buckle of Juxon's hat-band, and glanced off. He felt aslight shock, but, as it came aslant upon it, the concussion was notso violent as to stun him.

  Sir Charles dropped the pistol, seized upon a second, which was in hisbelt, but, ere he could deliver his fire, Juxon had beaten aside hisarm, and the bullet spent its force harmlessly on the yielding air.

  "Madman!" said Juxon with an earnest and solemn tone, "let us from ourhearts thank God. He has preserved you from the sin of murder, and mefrom being hurried into the holy presence of the Prince of Peace froma scene of guilty contention, in the cause of which I am far frominnocent. There is your sword:--there is my hand:--by these lips nohuman being shall ever be informed of what has just occurred. Yourpresent situation and your present duties call upon you to use yoursword in the field of honour and in the service of your king: do so ina good spirit, and forget this hour as fully as I forgive it."

  The burning coal fell, guided by Heaven, upon the humbled head of theproud one. Scalding tears stood in his eyes; the blood rushed hotly tohis cheeks. His embarrassment was so great, that for a while he couldutter nothing. "Let me hope," said Juxon, "that I have lost an enemy,and gained a friend."

  "You have done more, much more," answered Sir Charles: "you are thefirst person on earth who ever touched my heart with a feelingaltogether new:--I shall bless this day for ever. You shall neverrepent your noble consideration for my character. This sword shallnever again be dishonoured." Here Sir Charles fell upon his knees. "Iask pardon of God and of you, Juxon, for my murderous purpose. I feelthat the hand of Providence has been in this strange work--I am notyet an utter reprobate."

  "God forbid!" said Juxon, as he raised him up: "we will talk togetherof better hopes. Suppose we return together to Milverton, and showourselves as reconciled heartily--it will, I think, spare that kindfamily many hours of uneasiness."

  Sir Charles acceded with eagerness to the proposal, and mounting theirhorses they rode back quietly together.