The Young Apprentice; or, The Watch-Words of Old London — page 185: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE YOUNG APPRENTICE. road to glory ! blame you for doing that which, if fortune bad decided for me, I should have done for you.” “Then, you forgive me?” said Harold. It would be unjust in me to | ‘TI do,” said the young soldier; “and I only | ask one condition.” “ Name the condition, and I will accede to it | at once,” said Harold. | ‘¢ There is Gne person,” murmured the young captain, in a faint voice, “whom I should like to have informed of my death, and of the manner in which I died, She lives in London; and, in these days of turmoil and excitement, one knows not how to send a message. . I desire that she shall not hear’ my end spoken of by the voice of rumour, but that she shall know that I died in the heat of battle, with my face to the enemy, and that my last thought was of her.” “You give me a difficult task,” said Harold. | “ Why difficult ?” “It is a strange thing for the one who caused your death to carry the news to the one who loves you,” said the Young Apprentice, ‘True, true,’ said the captain; “but put no further obstacles in the way. She need know nothing. You will arrive at her house before any other news can reach her. Feel in the breast of my tunic, and you will find there a packet upon which is her name and address,” Harold did as he was requested, and in a few moments had taken the small packet from above the heart that now scarcely beat with life. | In afew moments morc he bad received the last pressure of the young captain's hand, and the brave spirit had tled for ever. oO It was just as he was fecling his, heart, to be gure of the -fuct that he was dead, that the armaurer came up. a “ What have we here?” he cried. - “Youns Hamilton has fallen; sjain, alas, by my hand,” aasid Harold, mouraofully. . “That is the fortune of war,” said the giant ; “you must not grieve at it. The victory has been a great one, and to secure it many brave hearts have fallen on both sides.” ‘Truc! What is the next move?” “Of the army, the next more is pursuit,’’ returned Leslie. ‘“ As regards myself, my next move is towards London. I cannot bear the idea of leaving thoze I love so long at the mercy of the villains who seem resolved to destroy us.” “JT will return with you at one, then,” said Harold. ‘*We muat, I suppose, make our adieux first te Lord Montague.” “ Yes, truly; mere politeness obliges that, Let usa go at once; thank him for his conde- scension if he offers us further honors, and then tell him that urgent business calls us to the metropolis.” They rode off at once to the place where Lord Montagne was standiog, giving directions to some officers. | Lo He saw them approaching, and advanced to meet them. “Ha! my brave friends,” cried Lord Monta- gue; “I am glad you have shown yourselves, I have to thank you for your conduct this day. Nothing could exceed your courage ;. nothing could exceed the daring intrepidity of your Youn g Apprentice. To him, an to you, anda others such as you, is due the glorious i of this battle.’’ mn : ~ — NOTICE.—ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL PICUURE. PRINTED IN SRVEN COLOUR WILL BR GIVEN AWAY WITH NO. 2 it “I am glad your lordship is gratified, and trust that General Cromwell will be appfised of the part which Harold Fordyce has taken. Meau- while we must hurry towards hom .‘ Businérs of importance calls us to London at once.” “T am very sorry to Jose you,” said Lord Montague, “ very sorry ; but you have done your duty, and I have no right to detain you. I will at once forward to Cromwell an account of this day's proceedings.” The Young Apprentice and his maater departed for London in high spirits. Little did they expect to find their homes desolated—one of their dearest friends gone ! _ Little did they imagine that the ruthless spirit of revenge had been let loose to carry woe and desolation to their hearts. . Near home they parted. ‘‘T must reach the house of this lady—this Lady Grace Cowley—before she receives other news,” said Harold, . And go he sped ‘away. : Had he known what. fresh evils would result from his enterprise, he might have hesitated ere he engaged in it. Being guiltless of murder, however, knowing well that what he had.done. had been done in fair fiyht, he never, for one moment, dreamed of danger, He would do for another what in a similar case he would wish another to do for him. The house to which he had been directed was situated some distance out of London—some two miles from the abode of the armourer, and it may be supposed, therefore, that he was not long in reaching it. : ' Thé shades of night were just beginning to fall as he approached. : : Along a dark and gloomy avenue he cantered his horse, and arrived, after a few moments, at the open space before the building. It was a tall, massively-built structure, and very few of its small and gloomy casements were litup. . | A chill entered the heart of the Young Ap- prentice as he gazed at it. Somethiag seemed to warn him to turn back. A phantom form, which now took the likeness of the armourer, and then again that of Ettic Leslie, seemed to hover near him, and breathe in his ears words of eager warning. — But he had promired, his word had been given, and he resolved—come what might— to do what he considered to be his duty. In afew moments the door opened to him, therefore, and a solemn-looking domestic addressed him. A very: few words sufficed to tell his errand. “Come this way,’ said the strange-looking old man, and conducted bim at oncé into a room where a lady, young and beautiful, though pale as death, sat upon a couch. “ This young gentlemen brings news from the battle-field,” said the man, and, as he spoke, a look of intense meaning passed between him and the lady, This look was the forerunner of terrible events, from which the silent warnings might have saved him. He was in the snare now, however, and was compelled to abide by it. Others will follow in.a few weeky A Read TOMTGIOO Ol