least on my part."
"And on mine also," replied Edward.
Chaloner then talked about the chances of the war. He stated that King
Charles's army was in a good state of discipline, and well found in
everything; that there were hundreds in England who would join it, as
soon as it had advanced far enough into England; and that everything
wore a promising appearance.
"My father fell at the battle of Naseby, at the head of his retainers,"
said Chaloner, after a pause; "and they have contrived to fine the
property, so that it has dwindled from thousands down to hundreds.
Indeed, were it not for my good old aunts, who will leave me their
estates, and who now supply me liberally, I should be but a poor
gentleman."
"Your father fell at Naseby?" said Edward. "Were you there?"
"I was," replied Chaloner.
"My father also fell at Naseby," said Edward.
"Your father did?" replied Chaloner, "I do not recollect the name--
Armitage--he was not in command there, was he?" continued Chaloner.
"Yes, he was," replied Edward.
"There was none of that name among the officers that I can recollect,
young sir," replied Chaloner, with an air of distrust. "Surely you have
been misinformed."
"I have spoken the truth," replied Edward; "and have now said so much
that I must, to remove your suspicion, say more than perhaps I should
have done. My name is not Armitage, although I have been so called for
some time. You have set me the example of confidence, and I will follow
it. My father was Colonel Beverley, of Prince Rupert's troop."
Chaloner started with astonishment.
"I'm sure that what you say is true," at last said he; "for I was
thinking who it was that you reminded me of. You are the very picture
of your father. Although a boy at the time, I knew him well, Master
Beverley; a more gallant Cavalier never drew sword. Come, we must be
sworn friends in life and death, Beverley," continued Chaloner,
extending his hand, which was eagerly grasped by Edward, who then
confided to Chaloner the history of his life. When he had concluded,
Chaloner said--"We all heard of the firing of Arnwood, and it is at this
moment believed that all the children perished. It is one of the tales
of woe that our nurses repeat to the children, and many a child has wept
at your supposed deaths. But tell me, now, had you not fallen in with
me, was it your intention to have joined the army under your assumed
name of Armitage?"
"I hardly know wh
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