elder sister—a studious and retiring person—
who was gone with her mother, Lady Apsley,
into Wiltshire—and Lucy was going to be
married, she thought. The little girl ever
talked of Lucy—and the gentlemen talked of
Lucy—and one day a song was sung which
Lucy had written—and John and the vivacious
child walked, another day, to Lady Apsley's
house, and there, in a closet, were Lucy's
Latin books. Mr. Hutchinson grew in love
with Lucy's image; and when the talk was
more rife that she was about to be married—
and some said that she was indeed married—
he became unhappy—and "began to believe
there was some magic in the place, which
enchanted men out of their right senses; but
the sick heart could not be chid nor advised
into health." At length Lucy and her mother
came home; and Lucy was not married.
Then John and Lucy wandered by the
pleasant banks of the Thames, in that springtime
of 1638, and a "mutual friendship" grew
up between them. Lucy now talked to him
of her early life; how she had been born in
the Tower of London, of which her late father,
Sin John Apsley, was the Governor; how her
mother was the benefactress of the prisoners,
and delighted to mitigate the hard fortune of
the noble and the learned, and especially Sir
Walter Raleigh, by every needful help to his
studies and amusements; how she herself
grew serious amongst these scenes, and
delighted in nothing but reading, and would
never practise her lute or harpsichords, and
absolutely hated her needle. John was
of a like serious temper. Their fate was
determined.

The spring is far advanced into summer.
On a certain day, the friends on both sides
meet to conclude the terms of the marriage.
Lucy is not to be seen. She has taken the
small-pox. She is very near death. At length
John is permitted to speak to his betrothed.
Tremblingly and mournfully she comes into
his presence. She is "the most deformed
person that could be seen." Who could tell
the result in words so touching as Lucy's
own? "He was nothing troubled at it, but
married her as soon as she was able to quit
the chamber, when the priest and all that
saw her were affrighted to look on her. But
God recompensed his justice and constancy
by restoring her; though she was longer than
ordinary before she recovered to be as well as
before."

They were married on. the 3d of July, 1638.

In the autumn of 1641, John and Lucy
Hutchinson are living in their own house of
Owthorpe, in Nottinghamshire. They have
two sons. They are "peaceful and happy."
John has dedicated two years since his
marriage to the study of "school divinity." He
has convinced himself of "the great point of
predestination." This faith has not, as his
wife records, produced a "carelessness of life
in him," but "a more strict and holy walking."
He applies himself, in his house at Owthorpe,
"to understand the things then in dispute"
between the King and Parliament. He is
satisfied of the righteousness of the Parliament's
cause; but he then "contents himself
with praying for peace." In another year the
King has set up his standard at Nottingham;
the battle of Edgehill has been fought; all
hope of peace is at an end. John Hutchinson
is forced out of his quiet habitation by the
suspicions of his royalist neighbours. He is
marked as a Roundhead. Lucy does not like
the name. "It was very ill applied to Mr.
Hutchinson, who, having naturally a very fine,
thickset head of hair, kept it clean and handsome,
so that it was a great ornament to him;
although the godly of those days, when he
embraced their party, would not allow him to
be religious because his hair is not in their
cut." The divinity student now becomes a
lieutenant- colonel. He raises a company of
"very honest godly men." The Earl of
Chesterfield is plundering the houses of the
Puritans in the vale of Belvoir, near Owthorpe;
and the young colonel has apprehensions for
the safety of his family. In the depth of
winter, a troop of horse arrive one night at
the lonely house where Lucy and her children
abide. They are hastily summoned to prepare
for an instant journey. They are to ride to
Nottingham before sunrise, for the soldiers
are not strong enough to march in the day.
Lucy is henceforth to be the companion of her
husband in his perilous office—his friend, his
comforter—a ministering angel amongst the
fierce and dangerous spirits, whom he sways
by a remarkable union of courage and
gentleness.

Let us look at the shadow of Lucy Hutchinson.
She tranquilly sits in one of the upper
chambers of the old and ruinous castle of
which her husband is appointed governor. It
is a summer evening of 1643. In that tower,
built upon the top of the rock, tradition says
that Queen Isabel received her paramour
Mortimer: and at the base of the rock are still
shown Mortimer's Well, and Mortimer's Hole,
as Lucy Hutchinson saw them two centuries
ago. She looks out of the narrow windows
by which her chamber is lighted. There is
the Trent, peacefully flowing on one side,
amidst flat meadows. On the other is the
town of Nottingham. The governor has made
the ruinous castle a strong fortress, with
which he can defy the Cavaliers should they
occupy the town beneath. Opposite the
towers is the old church of St. Nicholas, whose
steeple commands the platform of the castle.
The Governor has sent away his horse, and
many of his foot, to guard the roads by which
the enemy could approach Nottingham. There
is no appearance of danger. The reveille is
beat. Those who have been watching all
night lounge into the town. It is in the
possession of the Cavaliers. The scene is
changed. The din of ordnance rouses Lucy
from her calm gaze upon the windings of the