15. XV.
HOME AGAIN.
I rode on towards Cecil Court, lost in gloomy
thought. The interview with the dwarf, who had
thus informed me of the death of Janet Brandon and
the man Hulet, had deepened the sombre mood which
oppressed me.
But something still more tragic awaited me. I
should probably arrive at Cecil Court to find it in
possession of the foe of my family,—my father homeless,
the name of Cecil replaced by that of Ireton!
The memory of my poor brother Harry came to add
poignancy to these gloomy reflections. Had he been
spared, we might have borne up: leaning on his strong
arm, my dear father might have gone forth again into
the world. I was left; but I was nothing. Oh, if my
brave strong Harry had not fallen!
Haunted by these sombre thoughts, I continued my
way, and drew near Keynton. Near the village I met
an acquaintance, a poor man of the place.
“Go not thither, Master Cecil,” he said: “there be
soldiers of the godly faction there.”
“They would arrest me, then, friend?”
“Yes, master. See, the man yonder is moving this
way.”
It was necessary to avoid arrest above all things;
and I turned into a side-road.
“A last word, friend,” I said. “My father?”
“The squire be well, master; but look you!”
The trooper was riding towards me; and, setting
spur to my horse, I followed a bridle-path which led
straight through the woods towards Cecil Court.
In half an hour I emerged from the wood, and the
old home of my family was before me. Oh, how
my heart yearned towards it! How my pulse leaped
at sight of the dearly-loved roof! I put spur to my
horse, went at full speed across the fields, drew near,
passed through the great gate, then, galloping up the
familiar old avenue, I threw myself from the saddle,
and approached the broad door.
As I did so, a brilliant gleam from between two
clouds fell upon the old portico. My heel clashed on
the flags; I heard a cry; the door opened, and I found
myself caught in the arms of my father,—and of Harry!
