It was a bright sunny morning, when walking forth, as if for some mere morning's excursion, the Earl of Beverley, with Lady Margaret Langley leaning on his arm, and Lord Walton with his sister, took their way to the old church in Shrewsbury. Arrah Neil, with old Major Randal, and one or two of the servants, had gone a different way; for Annie Walton, though the customs of those days were different, did not wish in the midst of civil war, confusion, and bloodshed, to chequer sadder scenes with the spectacle of a gay wedding. One by one they entered the church. There was no gazing crowd to witness. All was quiet, and even solemn; but the bright smile of the morning cheered the fair bride's heart, and lent to imagination an augury of happy hours. The ceremony was soon over; and Lord Walton gave his sister to his friend, undoubtedly with joy and satisfaction; yet he could not refrain one bitter sigh, or forbear from turning his eyes sadly and reproachfully to Arrah Neil; but that glance was met by so tender, so imploring a look from that fair and speaking face, that he easily read in it, that to hold her resolution cost her as much as it cost him.

Four or five days passed after sweet Annie Walton had become the wife of Lord Beverley, and still no news had been received from Bishop's Merton. The king had returned some time before to Shrewsbury; many bodies of men had flocked to his standard; reports favourable to his cause had been rife; risings in his favour on the road to London had been rumoured; and news had been received, that under the very walls of Worcester Prince Rupert's fiery horse had defeated a superior party of the enemy. Every one began to speak of a speedy advance towards the capital, and all seemed glad of the prospect except Charles Walton. At length the order for preparation was given, and all was bustle and activity. Lord Walton proposed to his aunt to remain with her he loved at Shrewsbury, but Lady Margaret answered--

"No, Charles; I will follow you as near as I can; and if I know Arrah aright, she would not stay behind. As soon as you know the direction of your march we will set out, and perhaps may be your harbingers to prepare your quarters for you. I fear not, my dear boy. These Roundheads are not anthropophagi, and will not eat up women and children."

The royal army marched on the following morning, the 12th October; but for ten days Arrah Neil only saw her lover once, at Bridgenorth, and Annie Walton only once saw her husband; for, though the king's leave was given that he should remain for a fortnight more with his bride at Longnar, even love could not keep him from his duty, and love and duty both taught her to follow where he went.

No news was heard of an enemy; the march of the king's force was unopposed, and the only inconvenience that was experienced was the frequent want of good provisions: for the false reports industriously spread by the agents of the parliament induced the people of the country to believe that the Cavaliers plundered wherever they went. Day by day, however, Arrah Neil or her fair cousin received letters or messengers from the army, and this was consolation under any privation; till at length, towards the end of October, the small party of ladies, with the servants that attended them, reached the village of South Newington, a few miles from Banbury, and obtained lodging at a large old farmhouse in the neighbourhood, close on the banks of the little Sarbrook. They were indeed glad to find shelter, for the weather was cold and stormy; and the good farmer received them willingly enough, and prayed the king might prosper; for the vicinity of a parliamentary garrison in Banbury had taught the peasantry, though somewhat late in the day, that gross tyranny can be exercised in the name of liberty, and bitter injustice practised by those who have ever equity on their lips. It was about three in the afternoon when they reached the farm-house, and while hasty preparations were being made for their accommodation, which the extent of the building rendered not very difficult, Arrah Neil stood at the window gazing out upon the fields, the sky, and the stream. Heavy leaden clouds hung overhead, and shut out the blue of heaven and the beams of the sun; a dull grey shower was pouring down upon the earth, dimming the bright colouring of the autumnal foliage; the stream ran turbid, with a sad and solemn murmur, and the hoarse wind howled as it passed the casement. Her thoughts were as gloomy as the scene, and something like the dark shadow which used formerly to come over her seemed to rest upon her spirit. The old stag-hound stalked up and put his muzzle in her hand, but she noticed him not; the servants came and went, but she saw them not; Lady Margaret spoke, but her ears did not catch the sounds. At length Lady Beverley pronounced her name, and Arrah Neil started, for the tones were like those of Lord Walton; and she was turning round to reply when her eye caught sight of two Cavaliers riding into the court. A look of joy instantly spread over her face, and she exclaimed--

"Oh Annie! dear Annie! there is Captain Barecolt, and Charles will be happy now!"

As soon as he could spring from his horse and find his way up the stairs, Captain Barecolt was in the room. He was very pale and very thin, and Annie Walton thought for a moment that he must be the bearer of evil tidings, but his well-satisfied smile soon set her fears at rest.

"What news? what news, sir?" exclaimed Lady Margaret, who had shared the apprehensions of her niece.

"None but what is good, madam," replied the captain. "Lord Walton has honoured me by making me his messenger from Edgecot, where he is now with his majesty. No enemy is near; Banbury is about to be besieged, and consequently cavalry is out of fashion; so we shall have three or four days' repose, for they will doubtless hold out that time for their honour; and, to say truth, I myself shall not be sorry for a little rest, having been let blood pretty sharply since I stood last in this fair presence. I can bear bleeding, methinks, as well as most men, being somewhat accustomed to the process; but this Master Dry, of Longsoaken, was an unskilful leech, and took so much that there was very little left, and I was obliged to lie in bed at Chippenham for ten days."

"But you are wet, Captain Barecolt, and fatigued," said Lady Beverley: "will you take some refreshment?"

"Not before I have done my errand, bright lady," replied the officer; "which is simply to tell you that my Lord Walton and your noble lord will be here with all speed, and to give this packet to another fair lady, in whose cause I have laboured and suffered successfully;" and approaching Arrah Neil, who had been listening with eager attention to every word that fell from his lips, he kissed her hand and gave her her lover's letter.

She took and read it eagerly, while her heart beat fast and her brain almost turned giddy with joy.

My own Beloved (it ran),--Barecolt joined me last night, delayed by accidents which he will tell you. He brings with him all the papers which were plundered from the cottage of poor old Neil; and they, beyond all question, together with the others we possess, establish your birth and your rights. I enclose them for your comfort. Show them to Lady Margaret; and, dearest Arrah, remember the promise that you made to me. We halt here for three days. I will be with you in an hour, not to part with you again till you are the bride of him who loves you more than life.

Charles Walton.

Arrah paused for a moment or two and leaned upon the table. Her hand that held the letter shook, and her cheek glowed; but there was light in her beautiful eyes and a smile upon her sweet lip. Then calmly gliding forward to Lady Margaret, she gave her the papers which her lover's letter had contained, saying, "Now indeed I am beyond all doubt your child."

Then turning to her cousin she placed Charles Walton's letter in her hand, gazing on her face while she read it, with a look calm, but full of many thoughts and feelings. Lady Beverley, when she had done, cast her arm round her, whispering, "My dear Arrah, now I think he has a right to expect----"

"Everything that love and gratitude can prompt," replied her fair companion. "I would not thwart him even in a thought, Annie. To you, sir," she continued, speaking aloud, and addressing Captain Barecolt, "I owe an infinite debt, which I must trust to those who can acquit it better to acknowledge fully and discharge. But indeed, Annie, he needs tendance and refreshment. See, Lady Margaret is moved; will you order him what is needful?"

"By your permission, fair ladies, I will even take care of myself," answered the redoubtable captain: "it is a trade I am accustomed to, I can assure you; and wherever bread and bacon, ale and wine, are to be found, I am quite equal to find them out."

"Pray do, sir; pray do," said Lady Beverley, and Captain Barecolt left them to themselves.

The moments that intervened before the arrival of those who were expected were full of agitation. The papers which Barecolt had recovered from the house of Dry, of Longsoaken, were carefully examined, and the full proofs of Arrah's birth were found beyond all doubt. Amongst the rest were several letters of Lady Margaret and her daughter, and a letter from the husband of the latter to his unhappy wife on the day preceding his execution. Besides these were several documents, showing that the small sum which had been annually paid to Sergeant Nell proceeded from a cousin of the poor girl's father, who had embraced the ecclesiastical profession, and was the abbot of a monastery on the Continent. He, O'Donnell, and old Neil himself; were the only persons entrusted with the secret of Arrah's birth; but it appeared from one of the letters of a late date that the AbbÉ Tyrone was still living; so that, if any further testimony had been required, he could have furnished it. Beneath these papers was a parchment, freshly written, signed and sealed by the king, and countersigned by the proper officers, reversing the attainder of poor Arrah's father, and declaring the confiscated estates restored. A momentary gleam of light beamed forth upon her dark fate--how soon to be eclipsed again!

Some half-hour was thus consumed, but then the thoughts of all turned happily to the expected arrival of those they loved. Ere an hour after Captain Barecolt's arrival had passed, Arrah Neil placed herself once more at the window to watch for their coming. She had not gazed long through the decreasing light when her ear caught the sound of horses' feet, and in a moment after Charles Walton and the earl, followed by a few servants, rode up at a quick pace. They were accompanied, however, by another gentleman in a black cassock, and a cloak to keep him from the rain, and the poor girl's heart fluttered wildly at the sight. But, still giving way to the impulse, she only paused to exclaim--"Here they are, dear Annie!" and running down to the door, was soon in Charles Walton's arms.

"Dear one! dear one!" said the young nobleman as he pressed her to his heart, reading her deep love in her eyes; "I have come to put you to a trial, my Arrah, and see whether you will keep your promise frankly."

"To the letter, and with pleasure, Charles," replied Arrah Neil, in a low murmur that reached no ear but his.

"To-night?" asked Lord Walton. "The king's chaplain must return. All forms are already cleared away."

"This very hour, if you desire it," answered she whom he loved; "your lightest wish is my law, henceforth till death."

Charles Walton could not reply, but taking her hand he led her to the chaplain, and then conducted him under her guidance to the room above.

We need not pause upon explanations. All was soon arranged and determined. After a brief and sober meal, and with none but one or two of the servants and Captain Barecolt present, the party formed a circle round and the chaplain opened the book. In the silence that succeeded, the howling of the wind and the pattering of the rain were heard, and Arrah Neil turned an anxious glance towards the casement; for, though her bosom was full of deep and strong emotions, there was something in the sound that seemed to connect itself with them. Charles Walton saw but her, thought of her alone; and after a brief pause the chaplain went on. Word by word he read the whole service through; the vow was plighted, the ring was on the finger; and, with joy he had feared that he might never know, Charles Walton held Arrah Neil to his bosom as his wife.

* * * * *

Silence had spread over the world for some hours. It was between two and three in the morning, and as dark as the grave, when first a horse's foot was heard coming at full speed, and then came loud knocking at the door. All those who slept roused themselves, and in a few minutes there were steps upon the stairs. The voice of Captain Barecolt was then heard speaking to the Earl of Beverley.

"The king has sent, my lord," he said, "to order us to draw to a rendezvous on the top of Edgehill, near Kineton. Lord Essex is in force in the valley below, and it is resolved to give him battle. We will cut him to mince-meat."

"Tell Lord Walton," said the voice of the earl--"knock at the opposite door;" but ere Captain Barecolt could follow these directions the young lord came out partly dressed.

"See that the horses be fed instantly, Barecolt," said Charles Walton, "and have them saddled. I will join you in a few minutes," and he retired. His bride rose and cast her arms around him in silence.

"Nay, Arrah, dear Arrah! I must go where my king commands," he said, struggling against the feelings of his own heart.

"I know it, Charles," she answered, in a far calmer tone than he had expected; "I would not keep you for aught on earth. But let me go with you, my dear husband. I shall have no fear; I will stay upon some hill as I did once before, and witness my hero fighting for his king."

"Impossible, impossible, dear girl?" he replied; "this is a very different affair. To-night I trust, in God's mercy, to return and tell you that we have won the victory and regained our monarch's throne. It must be so indeed, my beloved; you know not what you ask."

Arrah paused in sad and silent thought for a moment, and then said, "Well, let me be with you to the last before you go;" and dressing herself hastily she followed him down. Lady Beverley was soon by her side; few words were spoken; all was quick preparation; and ere four o'clock, with pale, anxious faces, those two fair girls took one more embrace, and saw their husbands ride away into the darkness. It had ceased raining, but it was bitter cold, and the wind blew sharply in; yet they gazed forth as long as even fancy could show the receding forms, and then, linked arm in arm, they retired to Lady Beverley's room to pray, each asking her own heart the question she did not dare to utter aloud, "Who will return? who rest upon the field?" There was a faint streak of grey in the sky when they parted, and Annie counselled her fair cousin to lie down and try to sleep.