The uppermost thought in both their minds was, how Henrietta’s heart would smite her when she heard the news. She would say to herself that she had made Harry a widower, and had caused a young bride to be brought home to Hampden, to fill her mother’s long sacred place.
CHAPTER XIII. MAN-HUNTING IN MERRY ENGLAND.
“You are very good to me, Philip,” was Henrietta’s word when the coach which brought her from Biggin drew up in the Strand.
“I promised my father and Aunt Carewe to bring you to them in cheerfulness and serenity, as far as depended on me,” said Philip. “You are not afraid to meet them now?”
“Not much,” she replied; but she was trembling. “But how is it that my father forgives me, if Harry cannot?”
“You will soon see whether Harry cannot,” Philip replied with a smile. “We all feel that the times are sorely perplexing to those to whom they are not wholly clear: and we who are clear must be gentle with those who are perplexed. Now, Henrietta,” he said, as the coach advanced to the door and stopped, “be open and sincere with us. This is all we ask.”
Henrietta said she never meant to be otherwise: she would now promise anything that was asked.
“What is all this?” Philip exclaimed, as he stood on the step of the coach. “The house seems to me to be guarded. These must be some of the trained-bands.”
The house was guarded, front and back: and Henrietta had to pass through rows of armed men into the hall. At the foot of the stairs there were guards; and on the landing above, where Aunt Carewe folded her in her arms. Henrietta’s confinement was so near that it was necessary to spare her from agitation, if possible. But how was it possible in these days of trouble?
These guards were friendly, she was assured. It was well that Henrietta had not arrived the day before when there really was alarm in the house. The King’s officers had come to seal up Mr. Hampden’s study, and all his papers, and his clothes, and everything that could contain evidences of treason. He and five others had been fixed on as the King’s chief enemies; and they had been impeached in the House of Lords: but this was held to be a mere form, as the accusers had broken through all rules in the conduct of the business, and the Parliament was fully resolved to protect its own leaders. The guards now present had been sent to protect the Parliament officers in the act of breaking the seals. An hour ago, the seals were removed, and care would be taken that Mr. Hampden should be safe in his own house.
Safe or not, Mr. Hampden did not come home that night. It was an anxious evening for his family. Philip came in once; and other friends succeeded each other with news. The King’s Sergeant-at-arms had been at the House almost all day. He had come by royal command to accuse five members of the Commons of high treason, and to demand their persons. There had been no debate; and no answer was given to the Sergeant-at-arms to report. The time was come when the King must be kept to strict order in his dealings with his subjects, or there would, in a week, be no Parliament at all. The House had promised to send a reply to Whitehall as soon as the conference between the two Houses on the breach of privilege of the preceding day should be over.
It was late at night before the King got his answer. His palace of Whitehall was only one of many houses to which news was brought from one half-hour to another. The diurnal writers were up all night, and the printing presses in the City were issuing sheets of news as fast as they could be worked off; so that the story of the collision between the King and the Parliament had spread far into the country by the morning. All the friends of the families of the accused members were full of excitement, and far better pleased to administer news than to sit by their own firesides, that bitter January night.
First in importance was the assurance that the accused members would not be delivered up on the King’s mere demand; but they must meet any charge that was legally advanced. One friend came in to say that he had just seen how that matter was settled. Mr. Pym and his four fellow-sufferers under the King’s displeasure had been addressed by the Speaker. The House was very full. It had been much agitated; but the extremity to which the King had gone had created a great solemnity. Every member looked grave: few conversed with each other; and those who did, spoke in a low tone. In so quiet a House, the Speaker’s voice, though neither loud nor steady, was heard by every one. When the five names were spoken, and the respective members rose and faced the chair, the command was laid upon them to attend the House from day to day till the injunction should be withdrawn: which command they received with an obeisance.
Why did not Mr. Hampden come home? his family asked with great anxiety, as the clocks struck nine.
The House was awaiting the return of the four representatives who were carrying its reply to Whitehall.
Then some one came in who had seen the deputation alight at Whitehall, and enter. Two of them, Lord Falkland and Culpeper, were friends of the King, and Privy Councillors; and the other two, Sir Philip Stapleton and Sir John Hotham, could hardly be offensive to His Majesty. What was the message they carried? It was an assurance that the House would give its earliest and gravest attention to His Majesty’s message, and that the five members would be ready to meet any legal charge against them. Then, while news was arriving that the streets were full of City soldiery, sent by the City authorities in response to the demand of the Commons of protection, Philip and another went out again, to see the deputation leave Whitehall, and to ask Sir Philip Stapleton where Mr. Hampden could be found.
For two hours the family waited anxiously for