The Young Apprentice; or, The Watch-Words of Old London — page 38: what you’re looking at

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

THE WATCHWORDS OF OLD LONDON. Harold bowed, and flushed with honest pride, bat made no further answer, ‘‘Yes,” continued Cromwell, “yes; we have beard very good accounts of you, and Iam sorry that I could not have retained you with me.’’ ‘¢T am bound, general,” said Harold, respect- fully, ‘therefore I have no choice,” “Truly no. But yet,” continued Cromwell, “in the many shiftinys and changings of our life there are many positions of honor, apart from actual warfare, which such as you can fill, Sach a post I will now assign you. You brought me important dispatches, I will send important dispatches back by you—on one con- dition, that you go alone |” Harold started. Did Cromwell suspect him to be a apy? His suspicions vanished, however, in a moment, The honest, noble face of Cromwell was enough to dissipate any unworthy thoughts, “I will go alone, general,” he said. ‘“‘ Good, then, my young hero,” replied Crom- well, “good. Within one hour return to me, and I shall be ready for you.” As he bowed and quitted the tent a hand was placed on his shoulder. Starting round he saw Ben Firebrace, whose atrong arm had more than once shielded him in the fight. “ Ah! Ben,” he cried, “‘ what want you?” “ Walk quietly with me a few steps,” said the trooper, “aud I will tell you.” When they bad reached a point wh'ch formed a division between the tents of the Republican army and Cromwell's tent, Ben stopped. ‘* Master Fordyce,” he said, “you bave an honourable commission from oar general, will you receive one also for me?” ‘‘ It depends on what it is, Ben,” said Harold. ‘‘It is the carrying of a dispatch, which, to my mind, is asimportant as that of Crom well’s,” returned Firebrace. ‘A letter to my sweet- heart, sweet Lizzie, at Martin’s Ferry Honse. You know the place; you passed it on the way to Master Laurence's.” ‘ T know it well,” said Harold. And will you go?” “ Yes; that I wil,” said Harold. “Is your letter ready ?” ‘¢ Yes, here it is.” ‘‘ Good,” said Harold, as he placed the letter in bis bosom, “I will deliver this letter as faithfully as if it were Cromwell’s dispatch, and defend it with my life.” Ben Firebrace laughed. “ Ah! well !’’ he said, ‘‘there is no fear that you will be attacked.” } He little knew what events were happening in the usually quite Ferry House. At the end of the appciated time Harold once | more presented himself before the general. Cromwell's dispatch was ready. “Guard that as you would do your life, | Harold Fordyce,” said Cromwell. ‘“ Seek no adventures; ride straight on, and let no one, unless you are compelled, speak to yon at all.” *‘ T will do as you bid me,” said Harold. “J will go alone, and speak to no one. Is the horse ready for me?” “Yes. Athersby,” said Cromwell, turning to a solemn-looking trooper near him, “ take this youth with you. Heis a good rider, and has need of a good and fresh steed, See that they have provided him with one.” The solemn trooper bowed grimly, and beckoned Harold to follow him from the tent, He led the way towards that portion of te camp where the horses were kept, and aftcr a few moments led out a tall, lightly-made, hand- some-looking mare, who, though evidently docile, had within her abundance of spirit. ‘“ Here is your horse, master,” said the trooper, as he led her out; “she is all you could wish, and will answer to any call you make on her, But tell me, are you well armed ?” Harold had, while be was speaking, vaulted on the black mare’s back. “ Armed |” said he. “I have my sword, and my pair of pistols, that is all,” “Pistols you call them,’’ said the trooper. “Bah ! they are no use in the face of an enemy. Here, take these, they are genuine fighters, no toys for ladies’ drawing-rooms.” With these words be placed in Harold’s bands a pair of heavy horse pistols. , ‘ Farewell, my youngster,” he added, ‘Good night.” “Good night, sir,” said Harold, and pulting spurs to bis horse he parsed along the high road out of the vicinity of the camp. He rode swiftly along dusty roads, and clattered through the roughbly-stoned streets of villages, resting at dark-looking inns with bad accommodation and worse beer ; sometimes passing on one side to avoid suspicions cbharac- rs, who followed him on the road, equalising their pace to his, and striving not uofrequently to draw him into desultory ‘conversation. As evening drew on, however, he became aware of a far more unpleasant apparition. It danced before him, it rode beside him, it flitted round him like a Will-o’-the-Wiap. No matter which way he went, or how awiftly, the vision was still there. Was it Quelf? More than once he stopped to listen, and looked around him. But he discovered nothing. All was atill save the sighing of the prcat trees round him, and the swirling of the fallen leaves, and the purling of the waters of the neighbouring brooks, A kind of awe fell over his heart. Without any instinct of fear, there is a feeling which can engulph as it were all other senti- ments, which can make you wait eagerly for a sound, and start at the falling of a leaf. Times, too, there are, when the sound of human voices raised in anger would be a wel- come interruption, zo great is the stilineas, Such a time was this—such a feeling was within bis beart. Again and again, no matter how quickly he went, the distorted shadow was near him, hovering over him like an evil spirit, Harold had not within him much of the dread superstition of bis age. “It must be Quelf himself,” he said, and rode on more quickly, looking, or rather trying to look, neither to the right nor the left. Whether the apparition was an appirition in human form he could not tell, but at any rate it did not actively molest him on his journey to- wards Martin's Ferry House. The old inn’s twinkling lights at length came GOVE OO © CO