When Charles the First was King by J.S. Fletcher

I drew near to my house with many anxious feelings, not knowing what news might be in store for me. We had been so jealously watched during our confinement in the Castle that it had been almost an impossibility to gain any knowledge of what was going on in the outside world. Once during the first few months after my arrest I had received tidings from Dale's Field to the effect that all was well there, and that Ben was seeing to my affairs. But after that I had no more news, for Colonel Cotterel imposed many strict rules upon his captives, and would permit no letters to pass either in or out, fearing lest somewhat of a treasonable and dangerous nature should be communicated. Whether they were all well and alive at Dale's Field, or some ailing and, perchance, dead, I did not know, which uncertainty often caused me many sad and weary thoughts.

It was towards the close of a summer evening when I drew near my house. Nothing seemed changed, so far as I could see from a hurried glance round the familiar objects. I thought as I stood at the orchard gate that I had never seen aught so beautiful as this homestead of mine, which my eyes then beheld for the first time for two long years. For the soft light of evening fell upon the house and the red-roofed buildings beyond, and the apple-trees in the orchard were in full bloom, and the great bushy lilacs were loaded with delicate clusters of blossom, and the honeysuckle that grew over the porch was covered with yellow flower. Everything was very still about the house, and I passed through the orchard unobserved, and speedily gained the window of my mother's parlour. There I stole cautiously across the flowerbeds and peeped into the room, hoping to see some face that would light up with welcome at the sight of me. But the room was empty, and I stood at the window examining it, and marvelling to find that it had changed in nothing since I had last seen it. For there was my mother's chair and table by the broad window-seat, and upon the table lay one of her religious books, and by its side some knitting work that she had evidently laid down on being called away to some household matter. Everything in that room, indeed, was just as it always had been, and it only needed her presence to make the picture spring into real life.