The night fell upon an undecided battle, and the next morning the Roundheads, as at Edgehill, drew off from the field, leaving to the Royalists the honor of a nominal success, a success, however, which was in both cases tantamount to a repulse.

Three leading men upon the king’s side fell—­Lords Falkland, Carnarvon, and Sunderland.  The former, one of the finest characters of the times, may be said to have thrown away his life.  He was utterly weary of the terrible dissensions and war in which England was plunged.  He saw the bitterness increasing on both sides daily—­the hopes of peace growing less and less; and as he had left the Parliamentary party, because he saw that their ambition was boundless, and that they purposed to set up a despotic tyranny, so he must have bitterly grieved at seeing upon the side of the king a duplicity beyond all bounds, and want of faith which seemed to forbid all hope of a satisfactory issue.  Thus, then, when the day of Newbury came, Falkland, whose duties in nowise led him into the fight, charged recklessly and found the death which there can be little doubt he sought.

Although the Cavaliers claimed Newbury as a great victory, instead of advancing upon London they fell back as usual to Oxford.

During the skirmishes Harry had an opportunity of doing a service to an old friend.  The Parliament horse, although valiant and better trained than that of the Royalists, were yet unable to withstand the impetuosity with which the latter always attacked, the men seeming, indeed, to be seized with a veritable panic at the sight of the gay plumes of Rupert’s gentlemen.  In a fierce skirmish between Harry’s troop and a party of Parliament horse of about equal strength, the latter were defeated, and Harry, returning with the main body, found a Puritan officer dismounted, with his back against a tree, defending himself from the attacks of three of his men.  Harry rode hastily up and demanded his surrender.  The officer looked up, and to his surprise Harry saw his friend Herbert.

“I am your prisoner, Harry,” Herbert said, as he lowered the point of his sword.

“Not at all!” Harry exclaimed.  “It would indeed be a strange thing, Herbert, were I to make you a prisoner.  I thought you settled at Abingdon?”

Ordering one of his troopers to catch a riderless horse which was galloping near, he spoke for a moment or two with his friend, and then, as the horse was brought up, he told him to mount and ride.

“But you may get into trouble for releasing me,” Herbert said.

“I care not if I do,” Harry replied.  “But you need not be uneasy about me, for Prince Rupert will stand my friend, and hold me clear of any complaint that may be made.  I will ride forward with you a little, till you can join your friends.”

As Harry rode on by the side of Herbert a Royalist officer, one Sir Ralph Willoughby, dashed up.

“What means this?” he exclaimed.  “Do I see an officer of his majesty riding with one of the Roundheads?  This is treason and treachery!”