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About Omaha daily bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 187?-1922 | View Entire Issue (June 28, 1903)
Over the Border A Talc of tlic Days of Charles I, by Robert T. liarr r (Copyright, 1903. by Robert Uarr.) CllAl'TKK XIL Komnhrd, HE next morning Armstrong, rid ing; blithely along with his back to the Manor, suddenly heard tho cadence of a galloping horse be hind him. lie stopped, and pres ently spied a handsome fellow, little mora than a lad, who wished him a courteous ffoodraornlng hs he passed. Armstrong Rtopied hltn by asking as to the beat road to the southward, and they fell Into conversation. It transpired that the young stranger also was bound to Ox ford, and soon Armstrong, who was won by the youth's engaging manner, proposed to him that they travel together as far on the wny toward Manchester as their roads might serve. "Hut," Huld the youth, "you must have patience with mo while I stop In the park of I,ord Rudby to have conversation with Ms lordship's daughter." "You lly high, young sir," said Arm strong, smiling. "Why should I not? Although she Is the sweetest angel that ever visited this glad earth, she makes no descent when she Joins her hand to mine. I am Thomas Wentworth, eldost sua to the late earl of Strafford." They had been traveling knee to knee In the narrow way, but now Armstrong pulled up and looked at his companion In amazement. "Do you mean the minister to the kin Of Rnglnnd?" "Yes. There was no other." "Then you are perhaps ubout to visit Charles at Oxford?" "Ah, I have ulready told you more than was wise on so short an acquaintance," said Wentworth, trying another tack. "You yourself gave me a lesson In reticence s moment since, and you have not been so garrulous concerning yourself as L I do ot even know your name, although I sus pect your native land lies north of us." "Sir, I am William Armstrong, and Scot land Is my country. As two swords are better than one, I shall be most glad to travel In your company. I may say, how ever, that I hold a pass from Cromwell himself, so, if you are a king's man, you may not wish to be my companion." "Who Journeys In hades must have the devil's leave," answered Wentworth, Jaunt ily. "I am myself abroad through Crom well's permission, and I'll venture my pass Is broader as well as longer than yours. Tin sometimes well to Jiave a friend In the enemy's camp, and my friend pretends be can get anything from Old Null. Head It, If you think I'm boasting." Wentworth handed the document to the Scot, who read and returned It. "Mine is but a limited permit compared With this." They had reached the park by this and the youth dismounted and disappeared In the shrubbery. Armstrong sat silent, occa sionally leaning over to stroke the neck of the steed he held In tether. Ho loved all animals, especially horses, and they recip rocated his affection. Suddenly the silence was shattered by a cry hoarse with rage. "I have been watching your approach, perjured scoundrel! You shall not escape Die this time." "Sir, Bir, I beseech you," came the en treating' tones of Wentworth, "I cannot bear arms against you. Listen but a mo ment, sir." "Draw, you dog, or die the death of one." "Sir, I Implore you, I cannot draw with you opposed. Sir let me say a word oh." There was one clash of steel, then the brief cry of pain and now silence again, all so quickly accomplished, that first word and last were uttered In that the time Arm Strong leaped from saddle to earth. lie searched hurriedly for the leafy tunnel through which Wentworth had passed, but before he found It the Ltd staggered Into sight again, his left hand grasping his breast, his right dragging the sword, his face pale us chalk. "He has killed me," he gasped. "Nonsense. You would not now be on your feet If tho wound were mortal. Who Is your assailant?" "It is her father. Do not leave me; I faint. If If I I cannot direct you, take me down the lane, the high road. My home the house to the right." The victim collapsed In a heap on the ward, reddening the grass with his blood. Armstrong undid the doublet and flung it open, disclosing an ebbing gash. "Well pierced." he muttered. "An Inch to the right would have done the Job. The poor chap parried, but not enough; the on slaught was too fierce and sudden. The old man's intention was good, but the deflexion marred the thrust." He staunched the wound with the torn shirt and tied a sash tightly round the body. Taking a leathern flask from his hip, he forced some fluid between the gray lips, and Wentworth, with a long sigh, opened his eyes. "It's nothing to boast of." said Arm strong carelessly "I've ridden twenty miles worse mangled. Can you sit your horso If I put you on him?" "Oh, God! oh, God I" moaned the youth. near to weeping. "Fool that I was to risk all for the charree of a word." "Tut. there's no risk. You'll be right as Kdlnboro In three weeks." "Three weeks! Oh, my Ood! Would he had killed me outright." "Comrade," said the Scot generously, "If 'tis your Journey that troubles you, I'll do what I can to help you." The stricken youth, even In his pain, felt a keener pang at the generous words of the man whom he was to deceive and betray. Wentworth, and humor him, whatever it may be. Do not refuse him anything, b( sure." Frances opened the door gently and met her brother's hungry eyes. She sat down beside him, taking his fevered hand be tween her cool palms. "Oh, I'm a doomed man, a doomed man," he groaned. "Nonsense, Tom; the doctor quite agree with the stranger that your wound Is not dangerous." thousands of Innocent lives. It means the pi.KSlhle triumph of tho kins who murdered our father und broke his pledged word to him and to you. Hy no possibility can this Scot ever see his land ugain If he holds that fatal instrument, for the whole army Is watching him. Hut once bereft of It he Is free to go as he pleases. If I were his dearest friend I could do him no greater service than purloin the document of doom he will carry when he turns his face north again." hat doyoU tvfsh tne to d?, asked the aid in a lob) ybice. her pvps staring into space . But he braced his weakening purpose by remembering Cromwell's words. The powerful Scot raised him as If he were a child and set him gently on his horse. He leuped into his own saddle so promptly that his steadying hand was on his comrade's shoulder before the latter bad time to sway. Arrived at the house, he took the lad In his arms again and carried him to his own chamber. Then he heard the sound of sing ing outside. "It Is my sister. Frances," whispered the wounded man. "Tell her gently." Armstrong strode forward to the stair head. The girl looked up and gave a startled ex clamation at tho sight ot the blood on Arm strong's doublet. Armstrong for his part, stood staring at her. All the fine words with which he had prepared, himself were clean flown out of his head, leaving It empty as a swallow's nest In winter. For he knew that he loved her In that moment, and he had never loved woman before. At last ho stammered: "He Is wounded, but not seriously." The girl sprang up the stairs without another word and disappeared in her brother's room. Armstrong hurried down the stairs and sent a servant post-haste for the surgeon. That worthy man failed not In appear ing as soon as a stout horse could' bear him. And his decision brought Frances a comfort which she had not been able to extract from Armstrong's practical but unscientific assurances. "There It no cause for alarm," said he, "if but the youth's mind can be kept quiet. But there Is something that troubles him straugvly and is like to throw him Into a fovcr that may kUL Go you, Miatreas "I was not thinking of the wound; that does not matter." "What does, then, dear?" "Sister, this morning at daylight I was to have been taken out and shot." The girl's hands tightened on his. "Cromwell himself reprieved me last night, but on conditions. The sentence still hangs over me and now I m helpless to avert It. and all through my own folly. Oh, I have been a heedless fool! With every incentive not to take risk, I have walked blindly" "Yes, dear, yes, but tell me how I can aid you. The stranger says he will do any thing you want done in Oxford, going thora specially on your errand, and he looks like a man to be trusted." The lad drew away his hand, turned his face to the wall and groaned again. "Cannot you trust him?" "Trust hltn!" he cried impatiently. "Frances, Frances, it Is against hlra I am going to Oxford. The man Is a spy, carry ing a message to the king. He Is Interfer ing in a quarrel that should be no concern of his ,and his life is already forfeit, as Indeed is the case with my own. But the price of my life is the thwarting of him. The king will give him a commission to be taken to the Scottish nobles. It Is that document I was to rend from him, by force If necessary, ty cunning Jf possible. I was to give him every aid to reach Oxford, but on the way back I was to gain passesslon of this commission and ride to Cromwell with It; then life and promotion were mine, and now I lie here helpless as a trussed fowl." "A loathsome treacherous task for a man to put upon the shoulders of a boy." "But. look you. Frances, 'tis but meeting tttaehery with treachery. Armstrong has no right in this contest, and his success means a new blaze of war with the loo of VBVBsMBssai "What do you wish me to do?" asked the girl in a low voice, her eyes staring Into space, her hand trembling with apprehen sion at what she knew intuitively was to be required of her. "Francis, dear, you once took a Journey alone to London to see our father. Again you went the same road, to aid him if you could, and failed, to our lasting grief, through the supineness of a thrice perjured monarch. Will you refuse to set out on a shorter expedition, not for my sake only, although the saving of my worthless life will be one effect of your success, but to overturn what is perhaps the final plot of our father's slayer, who has already de luged the land with blood. Will you not help to bring more speedily that peace the kingdom yearns for, and the only peace now possible?" "I ll do It," she said, quietly, rising, stooping over and kissing him. He clung to her hand with the tenacity of the weak and helpless. "Frances," he said hurriedly, "remember you are protected by Crom well's own pass, so have no fear. In case of need, tho army, or any part of it, must stand ready to aid you If you call upon It. Old John will ride behind and look after you. Although the pass mentions two only, it U so sweeping that they will doubtless take It to Include a servant. Any subordi nate will hesitate before he delays one carrying so broad a permit from Cromwell himself." "Yes, yes. I shall meet with no difficulty, you may be sure. You have already talked too much, snd the doctor will censure me. Goodbye. Tom. Get speedily well, and that will be my reward, for I swear to you. by our father's memory, that my hand shall give Into Cromwell's the king's parchment."