5. V.
THE LAST GREETING.
The two noblemen—they were such, were they not,
reader?—advanced, and exchanged a warm grasp of
the hand.
“I am honored by your prompt compliance with the
request conveyed to you, my lord,” said Mr. Hampden.
“I esteem it an honor in my turn to meet Mr.
Hampden,” said Lord Falkland, with his gracious
courtesy. “I have come with only a single gentleman,
—an acquaintance of yours, I think, sir.”
“I know Mr. Cecil very well, and would fain call
him my friend,” said Mr. Hampden.
And he held out his hand to me, a friendly smile
upon his noble face. That smile was extraordinarily
similar to Lord Falkland's. What was it that made
these two men resemble each other like brothers? I
think 'twas the great soul in the bosom of Hampden,
as in the bosom of Falkland.
They rode aside, walking their horses slowly over
the deserted road, and, reaching a great tree, dismounted
and engaged in earnest converse. The distance
was not so great that I could not discern every
detail of their appearance. They faced each other,
holding their bridles, and Mr. Hampden leaning one
hand on the pommel of his saddle. With his disengaged
hand, Lord Falkland made grave gestures.
The conversation seemed earnest, but slow and almost
solemn. I did not remove my eyes from them. The
personage attending Mr. Hampden was a taciturn
civilian of middle age, whose name I had not heard
distinctly when Mr. Hampden presented him to me.
Thus we remained silent, gazing at our principals.
In about two hours the interview terminated, and
the two gentlemen came back on foot, and leading the
horses, who hung their heads as though saddened like
their masters.
“Well, well, Mr. Hampden,” Lord Falkland said,
as he drew near, “God knoweth if good will come of
this free converse we have held; but may he give us
peace. I am a bad ambassador, I fear, sir. I would
fain, were I asked to draw up articles, take a sheet of
paper and write solely the word `Peace' upon it. That
would sum up all, in my eyes. `Do not let us wrangle
about terms,' I would say. Hearts opposed to each
other are bitter, and see things in other lights. But
all may see how blessed peace—only peace!—would
prove to England. These terrible opposing flags,—
only to furl them, and extend the hands of brethren
towards each other! The roar of cannon drowns all.
Silence that fearful sound, and let us meet with mutual
forbearance. For myself, sir, I would give not only
my right hand, but my very heart's blood, to see
the sun of peace—blessed peace—rise over England
again!”
As these noble and earnest words were uttered by
Lord Falkland, I saw the face of Mr. Hampden flush,
and he bowed low with profound respect.
“I recognize in these words the great soul of your
lordship,” he murmured. “Would to God we had
more such men as yourself in England to-day!”
He was silent for an instant. Then he added,—
“What your lordship has done me the honor to
communicate, respecting his majesty's views and wishes,
will be repeated to the parliament as you desire, my
lord. Would to Heaven I could convey to the gentlemen
of that body the manner in which your lordship
has spoken! I think hatred and rivalry would shrink
away before the very tones! Now I will return.”
He paused again, and added, quickly,—
“Do you know, my lord, I have a presentiment?”
“A presentiment, Mr. Hampden?”
“That my days are numbered,—that I shall soon
leave this arena of contention. Have you never had
similar presentiments, my lord?”
“Last night,” was Lord Falkland's calm response,
and his eyes were fixed gravely upon the face of his
companion. “I know not if 'twere a dream or a waking
vision,” he said, “but I saw myself lying dead
upon the battle-field last night.”
“Strange!” Hampden murmured: “my presentiment
came last night too. And I too saw myself fall.
Is not that singular, my lord?”
Lord Falkland shook his head with a sad smile.
“Naught is singular or strange to me in this world,”
he replied. “I believe in presentiments. I believe I
shall die soon; and I am not sorry, Mr. Hampden.”
He leaned towards the other, and added, in a low,
almost inaudible tone, the words, “We shall meet, I
trust.”
With a close pressure of the hand, the two men
mounted their horses, saluted each other, and rode
off in opposite directions.
It was their last greeting on earth; but I think they
have clasped hands yonder in heaven, the realm of
peace.
