The ford, though somewhat deep, was smooth and easy, but still it exposed the troop of Cavaliers to a terrible fire of musketry from the bridge; and Annie Walton, left alone with her women on the hill, saw with a sinking heart flash after flash run along the road, whilst the thick white smoke was wafted by the wind over her brother's party, rendering the figures indistinct, and concealing their movements in some degree from her eyes. A moment after, however, she saw two or three horsemen break out of the clouds and gallop on for several hundred yards into the meadows, then followed a greater number, and she could hear shouts and calls, in the midst of which she thought she distinguished her brother's voice; and then she saw the troopers halt and form again in line, while Barecolt, with his little party, bore steadily on at a quick pace somewhat to the right; and a much larger body of cavalry, which seemed to have taken a circuit from the village behind some hedgerows that skirted the edge of the plain appeared advancing rapidly on the left of the musketeers, and occupying the whole space between the wood and the high-road.
There was now a momentary pause, the firing ceased, the troop of Lord Walton and Major Randal remained still, the smoke cleared in some degree away, and Annie asked herself, "What next?"
The moment, however, that Barecolt came on a line with the rest, the shrill blast of a trumpet was heard from the two larger bodies of horse; all were again in movement; and, galloping forward towards the point occupied by the musketeers, the three parties of royalists charged headlong down upon them, while once more the bright flash of the fire-arms ran along the line of the road, and the cloud of smoke again rolled over the combatants.
It was no longer to be repulsed that the Cavaliers now charged. For full ten minutes, the eyes of the watchers on the hill could perceive nothing but one struggling and confused mass in the midst of the dim white cloud, with the frequent flashes of the guns, and every now and then a party of two or three becoming more apparent, and then plunging again into the midst of the mêlée. At the same time the frequent reports of the musketry and the long-continued blasts of the trumpet, mingled with shouts and cries, were borne by the wind to the ear, showing that the fight was continued with desperate determination on each side; and Annie Walton could restrain her anxiety no longer, but moved slowly forward towards the scene of combat.
Before she had advanced many yards, a horse without a rider rushed across the road and galloped over the meadows towards her--paused, turned round, and with elevated head and expanded nostrils gazed towards the place from which he came--then with a wild neigh broke away again, and rushed across the plain. In another instant, three or four men on foot, with muskets in their hands, were seen running at full speed, and Miss Walton checked her horse, fearing that they might come near her; but they made direct for one of the ditches we have mentioned, and jumping in, seemed to couch down for concealment.
"They have won the day," cried Annie Walton, and turning to her women, who had followed somewhat slowly, she repeated, "The Cavaliers have won the day. God grant it may be without great loss!" and at the thought of what might be her brother's fate in that fierce fight, her heart sank with that dread which we all feel when the veil which always hangs more or less over the future, is brought nearer to our eyes, so as to render our contemplation even of the present dim and indistinct.
A larger party of foot, consisting of perhaps twenty or thirty men, was then seen hurrying along the road; but close upon them came a body of cavalry, and in a moment they were dispersed and flying over the plain. Almost at the same time, the heavy mass of horse and infantry which had so long remained mingled together near the bridge, seemed to explode like a shell, parties of foot and horsemen scattering here and there in every direction; and the terrible scene of a rout and pursuit now took place--the musketeers in general casting down their arms and dying, while the Cavaliers followed them here and there over the plain, and put them to the sword on the least show of resistance.
In the midst of all this disarray and confusion, a group of some twenty or thirty horsemen were seen gathered round a small flag upon the highest part of the road near the bridge; and after a brief pause, during which they remained perfectly still and motionless, the loud and peculiar trumpet-call--known in those days as the recal to the standard--came shrill but musical upon the air; and the next instant four or five horsemen separated themselves from the party, and rode up at an easy canter towards the wooded knoll.
Annie Walton gazed eagerly, and recognising her brother's form, after one moment of brief anxiety rode on to meet him with her heart at ease. Lord Walton pushed forward his horse before the rest, and wheeling it by her side, pressed her hand in his, murmuring, "My dearest Annie! my sweet sister! you have been sadly terrified, I fear, but yet you have shown yourself a soldier's child."
"Oh, Charles, Charles! you are wounded!" cried Annie, looking in his face, which was bleeding, and at a gory scarf which was round his left arm.
"Nothing, nothing!" replied her brother. "Men will have scratches when they fight with wild beasts, Annie; and these Roundheads have shown themselves as fierce and intractable as wolves or lions. They fought gallantly, however, it must be owned, and have made us pay dearly for our success."
"I fear so, indeed, Charles," cried Miss Walton. "I am sure it must be so. But poor Arrah Neil--is she safe?"
"Oh yes, thank God!" replied Lord Walton. "I sent just now to the coach in which I had placed her, to make sure she was uninjured. I must not blame her rashness, my Annie, nor yours either, for it has been the means of saving us; but it was a terrible risk, my dear girl, and your escape is a miracle."
"And good Major Randal?" asked Annie, willing to change the subject.
"He is safe too," replied Lord Walton, "and without a scratch, though never man exposed himself more. But here comes another friend whom you will be glad to see, and to whom we owe all our success."
"Oh, Sir Francis Clare!" exclaimed Miss Walton, a glow of pleasure rising in her cheek; "I am most happy to see you."
"Nay, not Sir Francis Clare either," cried her brother, "but my oldest and truest friend, the Earl of Beverley."
"Nay," said Annie, with a smile, "it was not fair of you, my lord, to give me a false name the other day. I half intend to punish you by treating you as a stranger still. Had you told me it was Lord Beverley, I should not have said that I never heard my brother mention you, for I can assure you, in former days, his letters were full of no one else. However, there is my hand--I forgive you, trusting with all a woman's foolish confidence that you had some good reason for cheating me."
"I will never cheat you more, dear lady," replied Lord Beverley, taking her hand and raising it to his lips; "but in such times as these it is sometimes needful to seem not what we are, and these noms-de-guerre when once assumed should be kept up to every one. I had to ride near two hundred miles across a disturbed country where the name of Francis Clare might pass unquestioned, when that of Beverley might have soon found me a lodging in the Tower. Walton said it was a rash act of mine to risk such an expedition at all; but I have just heard from him that I am not the only rash person where there is a good cause and a great object to be gained."
"Nay, will you scold me too?" rejoined Miss Walton, laughing; "if so, I will hold no further conversation with you. Yet, my good lord, to say truth, I take less blame to myself for what I did than for not doing it at once. To see the poor girl, Arrah Neil, willing to risk her life to serve my brother, shamed me, to think that she should encounter danger alone."
"But you might have sent one of the men, dear Annie," said Lord Walton: "it was a soldier's, not a lady's task to carry such intelligence."
"But they would not go," replied Annie Walton; and as they rode back towards the high-road, she explained to her brother and his friend the circumstances under which she had acted.
For a minute or two the conversation was as gay and cheerful as a great success just obtained, a great deliverance just achieved, could render it. Lord Beverley explained to his fair companion, that having learned that morning on entering the neighbouring village with a body of two hundred horse, which he had raised for the service of the king, that