"We have one more body to see," continued Edward, leading the way into the cottage, and uncovering the corpse of Clara"s father.
Mr. Heatherstone looked at the face and appeared much moved. "Cover it up," said he, turning away; and then sitting down on a chair close to the table-
"And how was this found?" he said.
"I neither saw this person killed, nor the robber you first saw, but I heard the report of the firearms at almost the same moment, and I presume that they fell by each other"s hands."
The intendant called his clerk, who had accompanied him, and desired him to get ready his writing materials, and then said-
"Edward Armitage, we will now take down your deposition as to what has occurred."
Edward then commenced by stating, "that he was out in the forest and had lost his way, and was seeking a path home."
"You were out in the forest during the night?
"Yes, sir, I was."
"With your gun?"
"I always carry my gun," replied Edward.
"In pursuit of game?"
"No, sir; I was not. I have never been out in pursuit of game during night-time in my life."
"What were you then about? you did not go out for nothing?"
"I went out to commune with my own thoughts; I was restless, and I wandered about without knowing where I went, and that is the reason why I lost my way."
"And pray what may have excited you?"
"I will tell you: I was over with Oswald Partridge the day before; you had just arrived from London, and he gave me the news that King Charles had been proclaimed in Scotland, and that news unsettled me."
"Well, proceed."
Edward met with no more interruption in his narrative. He stated briefly all that had taken place, from the time he fell in with the robbers till the winding up of the catastrophe.
The clerk took down all that Edward had stated, and then read it over to him to ascertain if he had written it down correctly, and then inquired of Edward "if he could read and write?"
"I should hope so," replied Edward, taking the pen and signing his name.
The clerk stared, and then said-"People in your condition do not often know how to read and write, Mr. Forester, and therefore you need not be offended at the question."
"Very true," replied Edward. "May I ask if my presence is considered any longer to be necessary?"
"You stated that there was a boy in the house, young man," said the intendant: "what has become of him?"
"He is removed to my cottage."
"Why did you do so?"
"Because when his father died I promised to him that I would take care of his child; and I intend to keep my word."
"You had spoken with him, then, before he died?" said the intendant.
"Not so; it was all carried on by signs on his part, but it was as intelligible as if he spoke, and what I replied he well understood; and I really think I removed a great anxiety off his mind by giving him the promise."
The intendant paused, and then said-"I perceive that some articles have been removed-the bedding, for instance-have you taken any thing away?"
"I have removed bedding, for I had no bed to offer to the lad, and he told me that the cottage and furniture belonged to his father; of course by his father"s death it became his, and I felt that I was warranted in so doing."
"May I ask, did you remove any papers?"
"I can not tell; the lad packed up his own things; there were some boxes removed, which were locked up, and the contents are to me wholly unknown. I could not leave the boy here in this scene of death, and I could not well leave the property belonging to him to be at the mercy of any other plunderers of the forest. I did as I considered right for the benefit of the boy, and in accordance with the solemn promise which I made to his father."
"Still the property should not have been removed. The party who now lies dead there is a well-known Malignant."
"How do you know that, sir?" interrupted Edward; "did you recognize him when you saw the body?"
"I did not say that I did," replied the intendant.
"You either must have so done, sir." replied Edward, "or you must have been aware that he was residing in this cottage: you have to choose between."
"You are bold, young man," replied the intendant, "and I will reply to your observation. I did recognize the party when I saw his face, and I knew him to be one who was condemned to death, and who escaped from prison a few days before the one appointed for his execution. I heard search had been made for him, but in vain, and it was supposed that he had escaped beyond the seas. Now his papers may be the means of giving the Parliament information against others as well as himself."
"And enable them to commit a few more murders," added Edward.
"Silence, young man; the authorities must not be spoken of in so irreverent a manner. Are you aware that your language is treasonable?"
"According to act of Parliament, as now present const.i.tuted, it may be," replied Edward, "but as a loyal subject of King Charles the Second, I deny it."
"I have no concern with your loyalty, young man, but I will not admit any language to be uttered in my presence against the ruling powers.
The inquest is over. Let every one leave the house except Edward Armitage, to whom I would speak alone."
"Excuse me one moment, sir," said Edward, "and I will return."
Edward went out with the rest, and, calling Humphrey aside, said to him, "Contrive to slip away unperceived; here are the keys; haste to the cottage as fast as you can; look for all tho papers you can find in the packages taken there; bury them and the iron chest in the garden, or anywhere where they can not be discovered."
Humphrey nodded and turned away, and Edward re-entered the cottage.
He found the intendant was standing over the corpse; he had removed the coverlid, and was looking mournfully down on the face disfigured with blood. Perceiving the entrance of Edward, he again took his seat at the table, and after a pause said,
"Edward Armitage, that you have been brought up very superior to your station in life is certain; and that you are loyal, bold, and resolute is equally so; you have put me under an obligation which I never can repay, even if you allowed me to exert myself in your behalf. I take this opportunity of acknowledging it; and now allow me to say, that, for these times, you are much too frank and impetuous. This is no time for people to give vent to their feelings and opinions. Even I am as much surrounded with spies as others, and am obliged to behave myself accordingly. Your avowed attachment to the king"s cause has prevented me from showing that more than cordiality that I really feel for you, and to which you are in every way ent.i.tled."
"I can not conceal my opinions, sir; I was brought up in the house of a loyal Cavalier, and never will be otherwise."
"Granted-why should you be? but do you not yourself see that you do the cause more harm than good by thus avowing your opinions when such avowal is useless? If every other man in the county, who is of your opinion, was to express himself, now that your cause is hopeless, as you have done, the prisons would be crowded, the executions would be dayly, and the cause would be, in proportion, weakened by the loss of the most daring. "Bide your time" is a good motto, and I recommend it to you. You must feel that, however we may be at variance in our opinions, Edward Armitage, my hand and my authority never can be used against one to whom I am so indebted; and, feeling this, you compel me, in the presence of others, to use a harshness and coldness toward you, contrary, wholly contrary, to what, you may believe me when I say it, I really feel for one who so n.o.bly rescued my only child."
"I thank you, sir, for your advice, which I feel to be good, and for your good opinion, which I value."