Page:Once a Week Volume 8.djvu/251

. 21, 1863. of the same duty, which is the more likely to be right?”

“Have I not warrant for loyalty to our King and Queen?” Henrietta asked. “Can I help it if, when we read in God’s Word of submission to those who are in authority, of obedience to be rendered as we would render it to God, my heart glows with the longing to comfort and serve the sovereigns who are insulted by rude men, and presumptuous boys, and pert women? I must tell you, aunt, my whole soul is full of reverence when I think of the king’s countenance, so divinely melancholy, and—”

“And of the Queen’s?” asked Lady Carewe, smiling.

“The Queen’s sorrow does not show as melancholy,” said Henrietta. “She is too great to weep. She has a noble spirit, possessed of a natural right to inflict rebuke. Lady Carlisle says that when she recounts to her ladies any new outrage on the king’s authority, any check to his purposes by wilful men, she has the air of one inspired. It is impossible to meet her eye at such a moment, it flashes so gloriously. Her consort is twice a king when she is by his side. Can I help honouring such a queen, and insisting on her being honoured, when her meanest subjects are encouraged by those who should be patterns of loyalty, to watch her conduct and revile her name?—Consider, aunt, I bear her name! Should that not bind me to her?”

“Not more than we are all bound by God having placed her on the throne. To say that she is Queen is to express our duty to her. Of that duty there is no question, my dear. The question is, how most faithfully to fulfil that duty, together with the duty of the King’s subjects to one another, and to generations to come. But this is not the question for you and me at this moment. The burden lies, not on us, but on men who have understanding, and knowledge, and conscience equal to such a charge. You and I have a more humble task.”

“I know all you would say about that, aunt, but if Harry and I cannot agree—”

“Well, my child, what then?”

“O! I do not know what I would say! I cannot settle my mind about what we ought to do. I only know I am very miserable.”

And Henrietta laid her head on her aunt’s shoulder, and wept bitter tears.

“Harry is miserable too,” said Lady Carewe. “It was my wish to ascertain what you thought, and not to give you advice in a case in which you must judge for yourselves. But the one thing that I can do is to set before you both the choice you have to make.”

“O, do so!” cried Henrietta.

“There is no doubt of your love for each other?”

A convulsive pressure of the hand gave Lady Carewe an instant confirmation on this point.

“You are both certain at this moment that you can never be happy apart?”

Another confirmation.

“Whether or not it might prove to be so, such is the present conviction of both of you. The question then is, whether differences of judgment, and strong prejudice or conviction on any matter of controversy, should make you part, at the entire sacrifice of the happiness of both. If you think that duty commands this sacrifice, I have no more to say;—no one ought to have a word to say.”

There was a pause; but Henrietta did not speak, or lift her head.

“In such a case you must immediately part, and meet no more for some years at least.”

“I could go to Uncle Oliver’s,” Henrietta murmured; but her aunt felt that her heart was throbbing as if it would burst.

“Or Harry must depart.” Struggling with the trembling of her own voice, Lady Carewe related how Harry recoiled from the idea of remaining in England, except in Henrietta’s company; and how he would hasten to the American settlements, if he must indeed lose all he cared for in life.

Henrietta saw now how serious a question it was whether her particular notion of loyalty ought to impose all this misery. She did not say so; but she told as much by her question.

“But how can we live together if we wrangle as we did yesterday?”

“That is indeed the question, my child. I would ask whether you could not agree either to humble your young minds to learn from wiser folk about these great affairs of the Church and the State, or to refrain from disputing upon them. I should say that you must either agree to this or part: and I am quite sure that the one thing which you must eschew, as you would eschew sin and sorrow, is such dispute as each of you at this moment rues.”

Henrietta sighed. She was not yet ready to promise anything.

“Youthful enthusiasm will account for almost any marvel,” Lady Carewe proceeded; “or else it would be incomprehensible to me that the daughter of John Hampden should, with such significance as she can, cast reproach on her father’s loyalty to the King, while the King himself declares, in the most public manner, his trust in that loyalty.”

Henrietta sprang to her feet, exclaiming—

“The King says so!”

“He more than says it,” replied Lady Carewe, suppressing a remark on the actual value of the King’s word. “As there must be some notice taken in the courts of refusals to pay this ship-money, it is rumoured that your father will be the first put upon his trial. Men say that he is chosen because the King declares that, such is Mr. Hampden’s honour, and virtue, and devotedness to the crown of England that, if he shall be found to be in error, all others will repent of their recusancy.”

This account, which Lady Carewe had from a sure source, was to Henrietta’s mind like a breeze which sweeps the heaven clear of clouds. She saw at once that where the King suspended his judgment, she well might. In a few moments, she was laughing at her own conceit, and ready to cry again with remorse for the wilfulness which had made three persons at least so miserable. It was settled that Harry and she should abstain from dispute till it appeared whether they could agree. Lady Carewe wished she had not requested Harry to leave them uninterrupted during