Farmer Lavender was almost as excited as his landlord, and declared that he would light a bonfire in the farm-yard, if he could be sure the stacks wouldn't get alight.

"Nay, Joe, I wouldn't," said his prudent mother. "Thou can be as glad as thou wilt, and the Parliament 'll say nought to thee; but bonfires is bonfires, lad."

Will Jackson did not come back to Bentley, and Mrs Jane remarked in a satisfied tone that she supposed Colonel Wyndham had found a place to suit him.

Millicent contemptuously observed to Jenny that she wondered how Colonel Wyndham, who was a gentleman born, could take any trouble about that creature Jackson.

"Well, and I do too, a bit," said Jenny, "for I'm sure the Colonel did not seem over pleased when Will would have taken him by the hand as we was a-coming up to the house."

"No, you don't say!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Millicent. "Did he really, now?--to the Colonel? Well, I'm sure, the world's getting turned upside down."

Millicent was considerably more of that opinion when a few months were over. Early one spring morning, before anyone was up, some slight but singular noises roused Mrs Jane from sleep, and calling Jenny, she desired her to look out of the window and see what was the matter.

Jenny's shriek, when she did so, brought her young mistress to the cas.e.m.e.nt in a moment. Bentley Hall was surrounded by armed men-- Parliamentary soldiers, standing still and stern--awaiting in complete silence the orders of their commander.

Mrs Jane went very white, but her self-command did not desert her.

"Never mind screaming, Jenny," she said coolly. "That will do no good.

They'll not take you, child; and these Roundheads, whatever else they are, are decent men that harm not women and children. I must say so much for them. Come quick, and dress me, and I will go down to them."

"Oh dear!" cried Jenny. "Madam, they'll kill you!"

"Not they!" said the young lady. "I'm not afraid,--not of a man, at any rate. I don't say I should have no fear of a ghost. Jenny, hast thou lost thy head? Here be two shoes--not a pair--thou hast given me; and what art thou holding out the pomade for? I don't wash in pomade."

Jenny, who was far more flurried and frightened than her mistress, confusedly apologised as she exchanged the pomade for the soap.

"But--Oh dear! madam, will they take you?" she asked.

"Maybe not, child," said Mrs Jane, quite coolly. "Very like not. I guess 'tis rather my brother they want. We shall see all the sooner, Jenny, if thou makest no more blunders."

Jenny, however, contrived to make several more, for she was almost too excited and terrified to know what she was doing. She put on Mrs Jane's skirt wrong side out, offered her the left sleeve of her kirtle for the right arm, and generally behaved like a girl who was frightened out of her wits.

Mrs Jane, dressed at last, softly opened her door, and desired Jenny to follow.

"I will wake none else till I know what the matter is," she said.

"Come after me, and I will speak with the Captain of these men from the little window in the hall."

Jenny obeyed, feeling as if she were more dead than alive.

Mrs Jane quietly unfastened the little window, and said to a soldier who had taken up his position close beside it--"I would speak with your Captain."

The Captain appeared in a moment.

"For what reason are you here?" asked the young lady.

"Madam, I hold a warrant to take the bodies of Thomas Lane, and John Lane his son, and I trust that none in this house shall impede me in the execution of my duty."

"My brother!--and my father!" exclaimed Mrs Jane, under her breath.

"Sir, we shall not do that. But will you suffer me to say to you that my father is an old and infirm man, in weakly health, and I beg of you that you will be as merciful to his condition as your duty will allow."

The Roundhead captain bowed.

"Be a.s.sured, madam," he said respectfully, "that Mr Lane shall fare better for the beseechment of so good a daughter, and that I will do mine utmost to have him gently handled."

"I thank you, sir," replied Mrs Jane, as she closed the window.

Then, Jenny still following, a little less frightened, since the enemy seemed after all to be a man, and not a very bad man either.

Mrs Jane went upstairs and tapped at her brother's door.

"Who's there?" demanded the Colonel's voice very sleepily.

"The reward of your deeds," answered his sister, drily. "Make haste and busk thee, Jack; thou art wanted to go to prison."

"Very good!" responded the Colonel, to Jenny's astonishment. "Do you bear me company?"

"Nay; would I did, rather than our father."

"Our father! Is _he_--?"

"Ay. G.o.d have mercy on us!" said Mrs Jane gravely.

"Amen!" came through the closed door.

"Jenny, go back to my chamber," said her mistress. "I will come to thee anon. The hardest of my work lieth afore me yet."

For two hours all was haste and tumult in Bentley Hall. Then, when the soldiers had departed, carrying their prisoners with them, a hush almost like that of death fell upon the house.

Mrs Lane had wept till she had no more tears to shed; her daughter did not weep, but she looked very white and sad.

"Now you mark my words!" said Millicent to Jenny; "'tis that Jackson has done it. He's played the traitor. Didn't I always say he was a Roundhead! Depend upon it, he's betrayed something the Colonel's done in His Majesty's service, and that's why that wicked Parliament's down on him. Robin, he says the same. He never did like that scheming black creature, and no more did I."

"Well, I don't know! He seemed a decent sort o' man, far as I could see, only that he wasn't well-favoured," said Jenny doubtfully.

"He was a snake in the gra.s.s!" said Millicent solemnly; "and you'll find that out, Jenny Lavender."

To the surprise of the whole family, and themselves most of all, the prisoners were released after only four months' detention. That was considered an exceedingly short business in 1652. Neither father nor son seemed any worse for their trial; the Roundheads, they said, had not treated them ill, and had even allowed sundry extra comforts to old Mr Lane.

So matters dropped back into their old train at Bentley Hall for about a month longer. Then, one August morning, Colonel Lane, who had ridden to Kidderminster, entered the parlour with an open letter in his hand. His face was grave almost to sternness, and when his sister saw it, an expression of alarm came into her eyes.

"A letter, Jane, from Penelope Wyndham," he said, giving her the letter.

"Mrs Millicent and Mrs Jenny, I pray you give us leave."

That was a civil way of saying, "Please to leave the room," and of course it was at once obeyed. Evidently something of consequence was to be discussed.

"I do hope Mrs Jane will not go away again," said Millicent.