“When his eldest son fell in the royal cause, and his friends gathered
round him in officious condolence, the old loyalist replied, with a
spirit worthy of the proudest days of classic heroism, “It is not for my
dead son that I should weep, but for my living one.” His tears, however,
were flowing at that time for another cause. “His only daughter, during his absence, in spite of the vigilance of Mrs
Ann, had been seduced by some Puritan servants in a neighbouring family,
to hear an Independent preacher of the name of Sandal, who was then a
serjeant in Colonel Pride’s regiment, and who was preaching in a barn in
the neighbourhood, in the intervals of his military exercises. This man
was a natural orator, and a vehement enthusiast; and, with the license
of the day, that compromised between a pun and a text, and delighted in
the union of both, this serjeant-preacher had baptized himself by the name
of--“Thou-art-not-worthy-to-unloose-the-latchets-of-his-shoes,--_Sandal_.”

“This was the text on which he preached, and his eloquence had such
effect on the daughter of Sir Roger Mortimer, that, forgetting the
dignity of her birth, and the loyalty of her family, she united her
destiny with this low-born man; and, believing herself to be suddenly
inspired from this felicitous conjunction, she actually out-preached two
female Quakers in a fortnight after their marriage, and wrote a letter
(very ill-spelled) to her father, in which she announced her intention
to “suffer affliction with the people of God,” and denounced his eternal
damnation, if he declined embracing the creed of her husband;--which
creed was changed the following week, on his hearing a sermon from the
celebrated Hugh Peters, and a month after, on hearing an itinerant
preacher of the Ranters or Antinomians, who was surrounded by a troop of
licentious, half-naked, drunken disciples, whose vociferations of--“We
are the naked truth,” completely silenced a fifth-monarchy man, who was
preaching from a tub on the other side of the road. To this preacher
Sandal was introduced, and being a man of violent passions, and
unsettled principles, he instantly embraced the opinions of the last
speaker, (dragging his wife along with him into every gulph of polemical
or political difficulty he plunged in), till he happened to hear another
preacher of the Cameronians, whose constant topic, whether of triumph or
of consolation, was the unavailing efforts made in the preceding reign,
to force the Episcopalian system down the throats of the Scots; and, in
default of a text, always repeated the words of Archy, jester to Charles
the First, who, on the first intimation of the reluctance of the Scots
to admit Episcopal jurisdiction, exclaimed to Archbishop Laud, “My Lord,
who is the fool now?”--for which he had his coat stripped over his head,
and was forbid the court. So Sandal vacillated between creed and creed,
between preacher and preacher, till he died, leaving his widow with one
son. Sir Roger announced to his widowed daughter, his determined purpose
never to see her more, but he promised his protection to her son, if
entrusted to his care. The widow was too poor to decline compliance with
the offer of her deserted father. “So in Mortimer Castle were, in their infancy, assembled the three
grandchildren, born under such various auspices and destinies. Margaret
Mortimer the heiress, a beautiful, intelligent, spirited girl, heiress
of all the pride, aristocratical principle, and possible wealth of the
family; Elinor Mortimer, the daughter of the Apostate, received rather
than admitted into the house, and educated in all the strictness of her
Independent family; and John Sandal, the son of the rejected daughter,
whom Sir Roger admitted into the Castle only on the condition of his
being engaged in the service of the royal family, banished and
persecuted as they were; and he renewed his correspondence with some
emigrant loyalists in Holland, for the establishment of his protegé,
whom he described, in language borrowed from the Puritan preachers, as
“a brand snatched from the burning.”

“While matters were thus at the Castle, intelligence arrived of Monk’s
unexpected exertions in favour of the banished family. The result was as
rapid as it was auspicious. The Restoration took place within a few days
after, and the Mortimer family were then esteemed of so much
consequence, that an express, girthed from his waist to his shoulders,
was dispatched from London to announce the intelligence. He arrived when
Sir Roger, whose chaplain he had been compelled by the ruling party to
dismiss as a malignant, was reading prayers himself to his family. The
return and restoration of Charles the Second was announced. The old
loyalist rose from his knees, waved his cap, (which he had reverently
taken from his white head), and, suddenly changing his tone of
supplication for one of triumph, exclaimed, “Lord, now lettest thou thy
servant depart in peace, according to thy word, for mine eyes have seen
thy salvation!” As he spoke, the old man sunk on the cushion which Mrs
Ann had placed beneath his knees. His grandchildren rose from their
knees to assist him,--it was too late,--his spirit had parted in that
last exclamation. CHAPTER XXX. ------She sat, and thought
    Of what a sailor suffers. COWPER. “The intelligence that was the cause of old Sir Roger’s death, who might
be said to be conducted from this world to the next by a blessed
_euthanasia_, (a kind of passing with a light and lofty step from a
narrow entry to a spacious and glorious apartment, without ever feeling
he trod the dark and rugged threshold that lies between), was the signal
and pledge to this ancient family of the restitution of their faded
honours, and fast-declining possessions. Grants, reversals of fines,
restoration of land and chattels, and offers of pensions, and
provisions, and remunerations, and all that royal gratitude, in the
effervescence of its enthusiasm, could bestow, came showering on the
Mortimer family, as fast and faster than fines, confiscations, and
sequestrations, had poured on them in the reign of the usurper. In fact,
the language of King Charles to the Mortimers was like that of the
Eastern monarchs to their favourites,--“Ask what thou wilt, and it shall
be granted to thee, even to the half of my kingdom.” The Mortimers asked
only for their own,--and being thus more reasonable, both in their
expectations and demands, than most other applicants at that period,
they succeeded in obtaining what they required. “Thus Mrs Margaret Mortimer (so unmarried females were named at the date
of the narrative) was again acknowledged as the wealthy and noble
heiress of the Castle.