Woodstock; or, the Cavalier Read online

  CHAPTER THE FIRST.

  Some were for gospel ministers, And some for red-coat seculars, As men most fit t' hold forth the word, And wield the one and th' other sword. Butler's _Hudibras_.

  There is a handsome parish church in the town of Woodstock,--I am toldso, at least, for I never saw it, having scarce time, when at the place,to view the magnificence of Blenheim, its painted halls, and tapestriedbowers, and then return in due season to dine in hall with my learnedfriend, the provost of ----; being one of those occasions on which a manwrongs himself extremely, if he lets his curiosity interfere with hispunctuality. I had the church accurately described to me, with a view tothis work; but, as I have some reason to doubt whether my informant hadever seen the inside of it himself, I shall be content to say that it isnow a handsome edifice, most part of which was rebuilt forty or fiftyyears since, although it still contains some arches of the old chantry,founded, it is said, by King John. It is to this more ancient part ofthe building that my story refers. On a morning in the end of September,or beginning of October, in the year 1652, being a day appointed for asolemn thanksgiving for the decisive victory at Worcester, a respectableaudience was assembled in the old chantry, or chapel of King John. Thecondition of the church and character of the audience both bore witnessto the rage of civil war, and the peculiar spirit of the times. Thesacred edifice showed many marks of dilapidation. The windows, oncefilled with stained glass, had been dashed to pieces with pikes andmuskets, as matters of and pertaining to idolatry. The carving on thereading-desk was damaged, and two fair screens of beautiful sculpturedoak had been destroyed, for the same pithy and conclusive reason. Thehigh altar had been removed, and the gilded railing, which was oncearound it, was broken down and carried off. The effigies of severaltombs were mutilated, and now lay scattered about the church,

  Torn from their destined niche--unworthy meed Of knightly counsel or heroic deed!

  The autumn wind piped through empty aisles, in which the remains ofstakes and trevisses of rough-hewn timber, as well as a quantity ofscattered hay and trampled straw, seemed to intimate that the hallowedprecincts had been, upon some late emergency, made the quarters of atroop of horse.

  The audience, like the building, was abated in splendour. None of theancient and habitual worshippers during peaceful times, were now to beseen in their carved galleries, with hands shadowing their brows, whilecomposing their minds to pray where their fathers had prayed, and afterthe same mode of worship. The eye of the yeoman and peasant sought invain the tall form of old Sir Henry Lee, of Ditchley, as, wrapped in hislace cloak, and with beard and whiskers duly composed, he moved slowlythrough the aisles, followed by the faithful mastiff, or bloodhound,which in old time had saved his master by his fidelity, and whichregularly followed him to church. Bevis, indeed, fell under the proverbwhich avers, "He is a good dog which goes to church;" for, bating anoccasional temptation to warble along with the accord, he behavedhimself as decorously as any of the congregation, and returned as muchedified, perhaps, as most of them. The damsels of Woodstock looked asvainly for the laced cloaks, jingling spurs, slashed boots, and tallplumes, of the young cavaliers of this and other high-born houses,moving through the streets and the church-yard with the careless ease,which indicates perhaps rather an overweening degree of self-confidence,yet shows graceful when mingled with good-humour and courtesy. The goodold dames, too, in their white hoods and black velvet gowns--theirdaughters, "the cynosure of neighbouring eyes,"--where were they allnow, who, when they entered the church, used to divide men's thoughtsbetween them and Heaven? "But, ah! Alice Lee--so sweet, so gentle, socondescending in thy loveliness--[thus proceeds a contemporary annalist,whose manuscript we have deciphered]--why is my story to turn upon thyfallen fortunes? and why not rather to the period when, in the verydismounting from your palfrey, you attracted as many eyes as if an angelhad descended,--as many blessings as if the benignant being had comefraught with good tidings? No creature wert thou of an idle romancer'simagination--no being fantastically bedizened with inconsistentperfections;--thy merits made me love thee well--and for thy faults--sowell did they show amid thy good qualities, that I think they made melove thee better."

  With the house of Lee had disappeared from the chantry of King Johnothers of gentle blood and honoured lineage--Freemantles, Winklecombes,Drycotts, &c.; for the air that blew over the towers of Oxford wasunfavourable to the growth of Puritanism, which was more general in theneighbouring counties. There were among the congregation, however, oneor two that, by their habits and demeanour, seemed country gentlemen ofconsideration, and there were also present some of the notables of thetown of Woodstock, cutlers or glovers chiefly, whose skill in steel orleather had raised them to a comfortable livelihood. These dignitarieswore long black cloaks, plaited close at the neck, and, like peacefulcitizens, carried their Bibles and memorandum-books at their girdles,instead of knife or sword. [This custom among the Puritans is mentionedoften in old plays, and among others in the Widow of Watling Street.]This respectable, but least numerous part of the audience, were suchdecent persons as had adopted the Presbyterian form of faith, renouncingthe liturgy and hierarchy of the Church of England, and living under thetuition of the Rev. Nehemiah Holdenough, much famed for the length andstrength of his powers of predication. With these grave seniors satetheir goodly dames in ruff and gorget, like the portraits which incatalogues of paintings are designed "wife of a burgomaster;" and theirpretty daughters, whose study, like that of Chaucer's physician, was notalways in the Bible, but who were, on the contrary, when a glance couldescape the vigilance of their honoured mothers, inattentive themselves,and the cause of inattention in others.

  But, besides these dignified persons, there were in the church anumerous collection of the lower orders, some brought thither bycuriosity, but many of them unwashed artificers, bewildered in thetheological discussions of the time, and of as many various sects asthere are colours in the rainbow. The presumption of these learnedThebans being in exact proportion to their ignorance, the last was totaland the first boundless. Their behaviour in the church was any thing butreverential or edifying. Most of them affected a cynical contempt forall that was only held sacred by human sanction--the church was to thesemen but a steeple-house, the clergyman, an ordinary person; herordinances, dry bran and sapless pottage unfitted for the spiritualizedpalates of the saints, and the prayer, an address to Heaven, to whicheach acceded or not as in his too critical judgment he conceived fit.

  The elder amongst them sate or lay on the benches, with their highsteeple-crowned hats pulled over their severe and knitted brows, waitingfor the Presbyterian parson, as mastiffs sit in dumb expectation of thebull that is to be brought to the stake. The younger mixed, some ofthem, a bolder license of manners with their heresies; they gazed roundon the women, yawned, coughed, and whispered, eat apples, and crackednuts, as if in the gallery of a theatre ere the piece commences.

  Besides all these, the congregation contained a few soldiers, some incorslets and steel caps, some in buff, and others in red coats. Thesemen of war had their bandeliers, with ammunition, slung around them, andrested on their pikes and muskets. They, too, had their peculiardoctrines on the most difficult points of religion, and united theextravagances of enthusiasm with the most determined courage andresolution in the field. The burghers of Woodstock looked on thesemilitary saints with no small degree of awe; for though not oftensullied with deeds of plunder or cruelty, they had the power of bothabsolutely in their hands, and the peaceful citizen had no alternative,save submission to whatever the ill-regulated and enthusiasticimaginations of their martial guides might suggest.

  After some time spent in waiting for him, Mr. Holdenough began to walkup the aisles of the chapel, not with the slow and dignified carriagewith which the old Rector was of yore wont to maintain the dignity ofthe surplice, but with a hasty step, like one who arrives too late at anappointment, and bustles forward to make the best use of his time. Hewas a tall thin man,
with an adust complexion, and the vivacity of hiseye indicated some irascibility of temperament. His dress was brown, notblack, and over his other vestments he wore, in honour of Calvin, aGeneva cloak of a blue colour, which fell backwards from his shouldersas he posted on to the pulpit. His grizzled hair was cut as short asshears could perform the feat, and covered with a black silk scull-cap,which stuck so close to his head, that the two ears expanded from underit as if they had been intended as handles by which to lift the wholeperson. Moreover, the worthy divine wore spectacles, and a long grizzledpeaked beard, and he carried in his hand a small pocket-bible withsilver clasps. Upon arriving at the pulpit, he paused a moment to takebreath, then began to ascend the steps by two at a time.

  But his course was arrested by a strong hand, which seized his cloak. Itwas that of one who had detached himself from the group of soldiery. Hewas a stout man of middle stature, with a quick eye, and a countenance,which, though plain, had yet an expression that fixed the attention. Hisdress, though not strictly military, partook of that character. He worelarge hose made of calves-leather, and a tuck, as it was then called, orrapier, of tremendous length, balanced on the other side by a dagger.The belt was morocco, garnished with pistols.

  The minister, thus intercepted in his duty, faced round upon the partywho had seized him, and demanded, in no gentle tone, the meaning of theinterruption.

  "Friend," quoth the intruder, "is it thy purpose to hold forth to thesegood people?"

  "Ay, marry is it," said the clergyman, "and such is my bounden duty. Woeto me if I preach not the gospel--Prithee, friend, let me not in mylabour"--

  "Nay," said the man of warlike mien, "I am myself minded to hold forth;therefore, do thou desist, or if thou wilt do by my advice, remain andfructify with those poor goslings, to whom I am presently about to shakeforth the crumbs of comfortable doctrine."

  "Give place, thou man of Satan," said the priest, waxing wroth, "respectmine order--my cloth."

  "I see no more to respect in the cut of thy cloak, or in the cloth ofwhich it is fashioned," said the other, "than thou didst in the Bishop'srochets--they were black and white, thou art blue and brown. Sleepingdogs every one of you, lying down, loving to slumber--shepherds thatstarve the flock but will not watch it, each looking to his owngain--hum."

  Scenes of this indecent kind were so common at the time, that no onethought of interfering; the congregation looked on in silence, thebetter class scandalized, and the lower orders, some laughing, andothers backing the soldier or minister as their fancy dictated. Meantimethe struggle waxed fiercer; Mr. Holdenough clamoured for assistance.

  "Master Mayor of Woodstock," he exclaimed, "wilt thou be among thosewicked magistrates, who bear the sword in vain?--Citizens, will you nothelp your pastor?--Worthy Alderman, will you see me strangled on thepulpit stairs by this man of buff and Belial?--But lo, I will overcomehim, and cast his cords from me."

  As Holdenough spoke, he struggled to ascend the pulpit stairs, holdinghard on the banisters. His tormentor held fast by the skirts of thecloak, which went nigh to the choking of the wearer, until, as he spokethe words last mentioned, in a half-strangled voice, Mr. Holdenoughdexterously slipped the string which tied it round his neck, so that thegarment suddenly gave way; the soldier fell backwards down the steps,and the liberated divine skipped into the pulpit, and began to giveforth a psalm of triumph over his prostrate adversary. But a greathubbub in the church marred his exultation, and although he and hisfaithful clerk continued to sing the hymn of victory, their notes wereonly heard by fits, like the whistle of a curlew during a gale of wind.

  The cause of the tumult was as follows:--The Mayor was a zealousPresbyterian, and witnessed the intrusion of the soldier with greatindignation from the very beginning, though he hesitated to interferewith an armed man while on his legs and capable of resistance. But nosooner did he behold the champion of independency sprawling on his back,with the divine's Geneva cloak fluttering in his hands, than themagistrate rushed forward, exclaiming that such insolence was not to beendured, and ordered his constables to seize the prostrate champion,proclaiming, in the magnanimity of wrath, "I will commit every red-coatof them all--I will commit him were he Noll Cromwell himself!"

  The worthy Mayor's indignation had overmastered his reason when he madethis mistimed vaunt; for three soldiers, who had hitherto stoodmotionless like statues, made each a stride in advance, which placedthem betwixt the municipal officers and the soldier, who was in the actof rising; then making at once the movement of resting arms according tothe manual as then practised, their musket-buts rang on the churchpavement, within an inch of the gouty toes of Master Mayor. Theenergetic magistrate, whose efforts in favour of order were thuschecked, cast one glance on his supporters, but that was enough to showhim that force was not on his side. All had shrunk back on hearing thatominous clatter of stone and iron. He was obliged to descend toexpostulation.

  "What do you mean, my masters?" said he; "is it like a decent andGod-fearing soldiery, who have wrought such things for the land as havenever before been heard of, to brawl and riot in the church, or to aid,abet, and comfort a profane fellow, who hath, upon a solemn thanksgivingexcluded the minister from his own pulpit?"

  "We have nought to do with thy church, as thou call'st it," said he who,by a small feather in front of his morion, appeared to be the corporalof the party;--"we see not why men of gifts should not be heard withinthese citadels of superstition, as well as the voice of the men of crapeof old, and the men of cloak now. Wherefore, we will pluck yon JackPresbyter out of his wooden sentinel-box, and our own watchman shallrelieve the guard, and mount thereon, and cry aloud and spare not."

  "Nay, gentlemen," said the Mayor, "if such be your purpose, we have notthe means to withstand you, being, as you see, peaceful and quietmen--But let me first speak with this worthy minister, NehemiahHoldenough, to persuade him to yield up his place for the time withoutfarther scandal."

  The peace-making Mayor then interrupted the quavering Holdenough and theclerk, and prayed both to retire, else there would, he said, becertainly strife.

  "Strife!" replied the Presbyterian divine, with scorn; "no fear ofstrife among men that dare not testify against this open profanation ofthe Church, and daring display of heresy. Would your neighbours ofBanbury have brooked such an insult?"

  "Come, come, Master Holdenough," said the Mayor, "put us not to mutinyand cry Clubs. I tell you once more, we are not men of war or blood."

  "Not more than may be drawn by the point of a needle," said thepreacher, scornfully.--"Ye tailors of Woodstock!--for what is a gloverbut a tailor working on kidskin?--I forsake you, in scorn of your fainthearts and feeble hands, and will seek me elsewhere a flock which willnot fly from their shepherd at the braying of the first wild ass whichcometh from out the great desert."

  So saying, the aggrieved divine departed from his pulpit, and shakingthe dust from his shoes, left the church as hastily as he had enteredit, though with a different reason for his speed. The citizens saw hisretreat with sorrow, and not without a compunctious feeling, as ifconscious that they were not playing the most courageous part in theworld. The Mayor himself and several others left the church, to followand appease him.

  The Independent orator, late prostrate, was now triumphant, andinducting himself into the pulpit without farther ceremony, he pulled aBible from his pocket, and selected his text from the forty-fifthpsalm,--"Gird thy sword upon thy thigh, O most mighty, with thy gloryand thy majesty: and in thy majesty ride prosperously."--Upon thistheme, he commenced one of those wild declamations common at the period,in which men were accustomed to wrest and pervert the language ofScripture, by adapting to it modern events.

  (See "Vindication of the Book of Common Prayer, against the contumeliousSlanders of the Fanatic Party terming it Porridge."

  The author of this singular and rare tract indulges in the allegoricalstyle, till he fairly hunts down the allegory.

  "But as for what you call porridge, who hatched the name I know
not,neither is it worth the enquiring after, for I hold porridge good food.It is better to a sick man than meat, for a sick man will sooner eatpottage than meat. Pottage will digest with him when meat will not:pottage will nourish the blood, fill the veins, run into every part of aman, make him warmer; so will these prayers do, set our soul and body ina heat, warm our devotion, work fervency in us, lift up our soul to God.For there be herbs of God's own planting in our pottage as ye callit--the Ten Commandments, dainty herbs to season any pottage in theworld; there is the Lord's Prayer, and that is a most sweet pot-herb,cannot be denied; then there is also David's herbs, his prayers andpsalms, helps to make our pottage relish well; the psalm of the blessedVirgin, a good pot-herb. Though they be, as some term them,_cock-crowed_ pottage, yet they are as sweet, as good, as dainty, and asfresh, as they were at first. The sun hath not made them sour with itsheat, neither hath the cold water taken away their vigour and strength.Compare them with the Scriptures, and see if they be not as wellseasoned and crumbed. If you find any thing in them that is either toosalt, too fresh, or too bitter, that herb shall be taken out and betterput in, if it can be got, or none. And as in kitchen pottage there aremany good herbs, so there is likewise in this church pottage, as ye callit. For first, there is in kitchen pottage good water to make them so;on the contrary, in the other pottage there is the water of life. 2.There is salt, to season them; so in the other is a prayer of grace toseason their hearts. 3. There is oatmeal to nourish the body, in theother is the bread of life. 4. There is thyme in them to relish them,and it is very wholesome--in the other is the wholesome exhortation notto harden our heart while it is called to-day. This relisheth well. 5.There is a small onion to give a taste--in the other is a good herb,called Lord have mercy on us. These, and many other holy herbs arecontained in it, all boiling in the heart of man, will make as goodpottage as the world can afford, especially if you use these herbs fordigestion. The herb repentance, the herb grace, the herb faith, the herblove, the herb hope, the herb good works, the herb feeling, the herbzeal, the herb fervency, the herb ardency, the herb constancy, with manymore of this nature, most excellent for digestion." _Ohe! jam satis._ Inthis manner the learned divine hunts his metaphor at a very cold scent,through a pamphlet of six mortal quarto pages.)

  The language which, in its literal sense, was applied to King David, andtypically referred to the coming of the Messiah, was, in the opinion ofthe military orator, most properly to be interpreted of Oliver Cromwell,the victorious general of the infant Commonwealth, which was neverdestined to come of age. "Gird on thy sword!" exclaimed the preacheremphatically; "and was not that a pretty bit of steel as ever dangledfrom a corslet, or rung against a steel saddle? Ay, ye prick up yourears now, ye cutlers of Woodstock, as if ye should know something of agood fox broad sword--Did you forge it, I trow?--was the steel quenchedwith water from Rosamond's well, or the blade blessed by the oldcuckoldy priest of Godstow? You would have us think, I warrant me, thatyou wrought it and welded it, grinded and polished it, and all the whileit never came on a Woodstock stithy! You were all too busy makingwhittles for the lazy crape-men of Oxford, bouncing priests, whose eyeswere so closed up with fat, that they could not see Destruction till shehad them by the throat. But I can tell you where the sword was forged,and tempered, and welded, and grinded, and polished. When you were, as Isaid before, making whittles for false priests, and daggers fordissolute G--d d--n-me cavaliers, to cut the people of England's throatswith--it was forged at Long Marston Moor, where blows went faster thanever rung hammer on anvil--and it was tempered at Naseby, in the bestblood of the cavaliers--and it was welded in Ireland against the wallsof Drogheda--and it was grinded on Scottish lives at Dunbar--and now oflate it was polished in Worcester, till it shines as bright as the sunin the middle heaven, and there is no light in England that shall comenigh unto it."

  Here the military part of the congregation raised a hum of approbation,which, being a sound like the "hear, hear," of the British House ofCommons, was calculated to heighten the enthusiasm of the orator, byintimating the sympathy of the audience. "And then," resumed thepreacher, rising in energy as he found that his audience partook inthese feelings, "what saith the text?--Ride on prosperously--do notstop--do not call a halt--do not quit the saddle--pursue the scatteredfliers--sound the trumpet--not a levant or a flourish, but a point ofwar--sound, boot and saddle--to horse and away--a charge!--follow afterthe young Man!--what part have we in him?--Slay, take, destroy, dividethe spoil! Blessed art thou, Oliver, on account of thine honour--thycause is clear, thy call is undoubted--never has defeat come near thyleading-staff, nor disaster attended thy banner. Ride on, flower ofEngland's soldiers! ride on, chosen leader of God's champions! gird upthe loins of thy resolution, and be steadfast to the mark of thy highcalling."

  Another deep and stern hum, echoed by the ancient embow'd arches of theold chantry, gave him an opportunity of an instant's repose; when thepeople of Woodstock heard him, and not without anxiety, turn the streamof his oratory into another channel.

  "But wherefore, ye people of Woodstock, do I say these things to you,who claim no portion in our David, no interest in England's son ofJesse?--You, who were fighting as well as your might could (and it wasnot very formidable) for the late Man, under that old blood-thirstypapist Sir Jacob Aston--are you not now plotting, or ready to plot, forthe restoring, as ye call it, of the young Man, the unclean son of theslaughtered tyrant--the fugitive after whom the true hearts of Englandare now following, that they may take and slay him?--'Why should yourrider turn his bridle our way?' say you in your hearts; 'we will none ofhim; if we may help ourselves, we will rather turn us to wallow in themire of monarchy, with the sow that was washed but newly.' Come, men ofWoodstock, I will ask, and do you answer me. Hunger ye still after theflesh-pots of the monks of Godstow? and ye will say, Nay;--butwherefore, except that the pots are cracked and broken, and the fire isextinguished wherewith thy oven used to boil? And again, I ask, drink yestill of the well of fornications of the fair Rosamond?--ye will say,Nay;--but wherefore?"--

  Here the orator, ere he could answer the question in his own way, wassurprised by the following reply, very pithily pronounced by one of thecongregation:--"Because you, and the like of you, have left us no brandyto mix with it."

  All eyes turned to the audacious speaker, who stood beside one of thethick sturdy Saxon pillars, which he himself somewhat resembled, beingshort of stature, but very strongly made, a squat broad Little John sortof figure, leaning on a quarterstaff, and wearing a jerkin, which,though now sorely stained and discoloured, had once been of the Lincolngreen, and showed remnants of having been laced. There was an air ofcareless, good humoured audacity about the fellow; and, though undermilitary restraint, there were some of the citizens who could not helpcrying out,--"Well said, Joceline Joliffe!"

  "Jolly Joceline, call ye him?" proceeded the preacher, without showingeither confusion or displeasure at the interruption,--"I will make himJoceline of the jail, if he interrupts me again. One of yourpark-keepers, I warrant, that can never forget they have borne C. R.upon their badges and bugle-horns, even as a dog bears his owner's nameon his collar--a pretty emblem for Christian men! But the brute beasthath the better of him,--the brute weareth his own coat, and the caitiffthrall wears his master's. I have seen such a wag make a rope's end wagere now.--Where was I?--Oh, rebuking you for your backslidings, men ofWoodstock.--Yes, then ye will say ye have renounced Popery, and ye haverenounced Prelacy, and then ye wipe your mouth like Pharisees, as yeare; and who but you for purity of religion! But I tell you, ye are butlike Jehu the son of Nimshi, who broke down the house of Baal, yetdeparted not from the sins of Jeroboam. Even so ye eat not fish onFriday with the blinded Papists, nor minced-pies on the 25th day ofDecember, like the slothful Prelatists; but ye will gorge on sack-posseteach night in the year with your blind Presbyterian guide, and ye willspeak evil of dignities, and revile the Commonwealth; and ye willglorify yourselves in your park of Woodstock, and say, 'Was it notwalled in first of a
ny other in England, and that by Henry, son ofWilliam called the Conqueror?' And ye have a princely Lodge therein, andcall the same a Royal Lodge; and ye have an oak which ye call the King'sOak; and ye steal and eat the venison of the park, and ye say, 'This isthe king's venison, we will wash it down with a cup to the king'shealth--better we eat it than those round-headed commonwealth knaves.'But listen unto me and take warning. For these things come we tocontroversy with you. And our name shall be a cannon-shot, before whichyour Lodge, in the pleasantness whereof ye take pastime, shall be blowninto ruins; and we will be as a wedge to split asunder the King's Oakinto billets to heat a brown baker's oven; and we will dispark yourpark, and slay your deer, and eat them ourselves, neither shall you haveany portion thereof, whether in neck or haunch. Ye shall not haft aten-penny knife with the horns thereof, neither shall ye cut a pairof breeches out of the hide, for all ye be cutlers and glovers; andye shall have no comfort or support neither from the sequesteredtraitor Henry Lee, who called himself Ranger of Woodstock, nor fromany on his behalf; for they are coming hither who shall be calledMahershalal-hash-baz, because he maketh haste to the spoil."

  Here ended the wild effusion, the latter part of which fell heavy on thesouls of the poor citizens of Woodstock, as tending to confirm a reportof an unpleasing nature which had been lately circulated. Thecommunication with London was indeed slow, and the news which ittransmitted were uncertain; no less uncertain were the times themselves,and the rumours which were circulated, exaggerated by the hopes andfears of so many various factions. But the general stream of report, sofar as Woodstock was concerned, had of late run uniformly in onedirection. Day after day they had been informed, that the fatal fiat ofParliament had gone out, for selling the park of Woodstock, destroyingits lodge, disparking its forest, and erasing, as far as they could beerased, all traces of its ancient fame. Many of the citizens were likelyto be sufferers on this occasion, as several of them enjoyed, either bysufferance or right, various convenient privileges of pasturage, cuttingfirewood, and the like, in the royal chase; and all the inhabitants ofthe little borough were hurt to think, that the scenery of the place wasto be destroyed, its edifices ruined, and its honours rent away. This isa patriotic sensation often found in such places, which ancientdistinctions and long-cherished recollections of former days, render sodifferent from towns of recent date. The natives of Woodstock felt it inthe fullest force. They had trembled at the anticipated calamity; butnow, when it was announced by the appearance of those dark, stern, andat the same time omnipotent soldiers--now that they heard it proclaimedby the mouth of one of their military preachers--they considered theirfate as inevitable. The causes of disagreement among themselves were forthe time forgotten, as the congregation, dismissed without psalmody orbenediction, went slowly and mournfully homeward, each to his own placeof abode.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE SECOND.

  Come forth, old man--Thy daughter's side Is now the fitting place for thee: When time hath quell'd the oak's bold pride, The youthful tendril yet may hide The ruins of the parent tree.

  When the sermon was ended, the military orator wiped his brow; for,notwithstanding the coolness of the weather, he was heated with thevehemence of his speech and action. He then descended from the pulpit,and spoke a word or two to the corporal who commanded the party ofsoldiers, who, replying by a sober nod of intelligence, drew his mentogether, and marched them in order to their quarters in the town.

  The preacher himself, as if nothing extraordinary had happened, left thechurch and sauntered through the streets of Woodstock, with the air of astranger who was viewing the town, without seeming to observe that hewas himself in his turn anxiously surveyed by the citizens, whosefurtive yet frequent glances seemed to regard him as something alikesuspected and dreadful, yet on no account to be provoked. He heeded themnot, but stalked on in the manner affected by the distinguished fanaticsof the day; a stiff solemn pace, a severe and at the same time acontemplative look, like that of a man discomposed at the interruptionswhich earthly objects forced upon him, obliging him by their intrusionto withdraw his thoughts for an instant from celestial things. Innocentpleasures of what kind soever they held in suspicion and contempt, andinnocent mirth they abominated. It was, however, a cast of mind thatformed men for great and manly actions, as it adopted principle, andthat of an unselfish character, for the ruling motive, instead of thegratification of passion. Some of these men were indeed hypocrites,using the cloak of religion only as a covering for their ambition; butmany really possessed the devotional character, and the severerepublican virtue, which others only affected. By far the greater numberhovered between these extremes, felt to a certain extent the power ofreligion, and complied with the times in affecting a great deal.

  The individual, whose pretensions to sanctity, written as they were uponhis brow and gait, have given rise to the above digression, reached atlength the extremity of the principal street, which terminates upon thepark of Woodstock. A battlemented portal of Gothic appearance defendedthe entrance to the avenue. It was of mixed architecture, but on thewhole, though composed of the styles of the different ages when it hadreceived additions, had a striking and imposing effect. An immense gate,composed of rails of hammered iron, with many a flourish and scroll,displaying as its uppermost ornament the ill-fated cipher of C. R., wasnow decayed, being partly wasted with rust, partly by violence.

  The stranger paused, as if uncertain whether he should demand or assayentrance. He looked through the grating down an avenue skirted bymajestic oaks, which led onward with a gentle curve, as if into thedepths of some ample and ancient forest. The wicket of the large irongate being left unwittingly open, the soldier was tempted to enter, yetwith some hesitation, as he that intrudes upon ground which heconjectures may be prohibited--indeed his manner showed more reverencefor the scene than could have been expected from his condition andcharacter. He slackened his stately and consequential pace, and atlength stood still, and looked around him.

  Not far from the gate, he saw rising from the trees one or two ancientand venerable turrets, bearing each its own vane of rare deviceglittering in the autumn sun. These indicated the ancient hunting seat,or Lodge, as it was called, which had, since the time of Henry II., beenoccasionally the residence of the English monarchs, when it pleased themto visit the woods of Oxford, which then so abounded with game, that,according to old Fuller, huntsmen and falconers were nowhere betterpleased. The situation which the Lodge occupied was a piece of flatground, now planted with sycamores, not far from the entrance to thatmagnificent spot where the spectator first stops to gaze upon Blenheim,to think of Marlborough's victories, and to applaud or criticise thecumbrous magnificence of Vanburgh's style.

  There, too, paused our military preacher, but with other thoughts, andfor other purpose, than to admire the scene around him. It was not longafterwards when he beheld two persons, a male and a female, approachingslowly, and so deeply engaged in their own conversation that they didnot raise their eyes to observe that there stood a stranger in the pathbefore them. The soldier took advantage of their state of abstraction,and, desirous at once to watch their motions and avoid theirobservation, he glided beneath one of the huge trees which skirted thepath, and whose boughs, sweeping the ground on every side, ensured himagainst discovery, unless in case of an actual search.

  In the meantime, the gentleman and lady continued to advance, directingtheir course to a rustic seat, which still enjoyed the sunbeams, and wasplaced adjacent to the tree where the stranger was concealed.

  The man was elderly, yet seemed bent more by sorrow and infirmity thanby the weight of years. He wore a mourning cloak, over a dress of thesame melancholy colour, cut in that picturesque form which Vandyck hasrendered immortal. But although the dress was handsome, it was put onwith a carelessness which showed the mind of the wearer ill at ease. Hisaged, yet still handsome countenance, had the same air of consequencewhich distinguished his dress and his gait. A striki
ng part of hisappearance was a long white beard, which descended far over the breastof his slashed doublet, and looked singular from its contrast in colourwith his habit.

  The young lady, by whom this venerable gentleman seemed to be in somedegree supported as they walked arm in arm, was a slight and sylphlikeform, with a person so delicately made, and so beautiful in countenance,that it seemed the earth on which she walked was too grossly massive asupport for a creature so aerial. But mortal beauty must share humansorrows. The eyes of the beautiful being showed tokens of tears; hercolour was heightened as she listened to her aged companion; and it wasplain, from his melancholy yet displeased look, that the conversationwas as distressing to himself as to her. When they sate down on thebench we have mentioned, the gentleman's discourse could be distinctlyoverheard by the eavesdropping soldier, but the answers of the younglady reached his ear rather less distinctly.

  "It is not to be endured!" said the old man, passionately; "it wouldstir up a paralytic wretch to start up a soldier. My people have beenthinned, I grant you, or have fallen off from me in these times--I owethem no grudge for it, poor knaves; what should they do waiting on mewhen the pantry has no bread and the buttery no ale? But we have stillabout us some rugged foresters of the old Woodstock breed--old as myselfmost of them--what of that? old wood seldom warps in the wetting;--Iwill hold out the old house, and it will not be the first time that Ihave held it against ten times the strength that we hear of now."

  "Alas! my dear father!"--said the young lady, in a tone which seemed tointimate his proposal of defence to be altogether desperate.

  "And why, alas?" said the gentleman, angrily; "is it because I shut mydoor against a score or two of these blood-thirsty hypocrites?"

  "But their masters can as easily send a regiment or an army, if theywill," replied the lady; "and what good would your present defence do,excepting to exasperate them to your utter destruction?"

  "Be it so, Alice," replied her father; "I have lived my time, and beyondit. I have outlived the kindest and most princelike of masters. What doI do on the earth since the dismal thirtieth of January? The parricideof that day was a signal to all true servants of Charles Stewart toavenge his death, or die as soon after as they could find a worthyopportunity."

  "Do not speak thus, sir," said Alice Lee; "it does not become yourgravity and your worth to throw away that life which may yet be ofservice to your king and country,--it will not and cannot always bethus. England will not long endure the rulers which these bad times haveassigned her. In the meanwhile--[here a few words escaped the listener'sears]--and beware of that impatience, which makes bad worse."

  "Worse?" exclaimed the impatient old man, "_What_ can be worse? Is itnot at the worst already? Will not these people expel us from the onlyshelter we have left--dilapidate what remains of royal property under mycharge--make the palace of princes into a den of thieves, and then wipetheir mouths and thank God, as if they had done an alms-deed?"

  "Still," said his daughter, "there is hope behind, and I trust the Kingis ere this out of their reach--We have reason to think well of mybrother Albert's safety."

  "Ay, Albert! there again," said the old man, in a tone of reproach; "hadit not been for thy entreaties I had gone to Worcester myself; but Imust needs lie here like a worthless hound when the hunt is up, when whoknows what service I might have shown? An old man's head is sometimesuseful when his arm is but little worth. But you and Albert were sodesirous that he should go alone--and now, who can say what has becomeof him?"

  "Nay, nay, father," said Alice, "we have good hope that Albert escapedfrom that fatal day; young Abney saw him a mile from the field."

  "Young Abney lied, I believe," said the father, in the same humour ofcontradiction--"Young Abney's tongue seems quicker than his hands, butfar slower than his horse's heels when he leaves the roundheads behindhim. I would rather Albert's dead body were laid between Charles andCromwell, than hear he fled as early as young Abney."

  "My dearest father," said the young lady, weeping as she spoke, "whatcan I say to comfort you?"

  "Comfort me, say'st thou, girl? I am sick of comfort--an honourabledeath, with the ruins of Woodstock for my monument, were the onlycomfort to old Henry Lee. Yes, by the memory of my fathers! I will makegood the Lodge against these rebellious robbers."

  "Yet be ruled, dearest father," said the maiden, "and submit to thatwhich we cannot gainsay. My uncle Everard"--

  Here the old man caught at her unfinished words. "Thy uncle Everard,wench!--Well, get on.--What of thy precious and loving uncle Everard?"

  "Nothing, sir," she said, "if the subject displeases you."

  "Displeases me?" he replied, "why should it displease me? or if it did,why shouldst thou, or any one, affect to care about it? What is it thathath happened of late years--what is it can be thought to happen thatastrologer can guess at, which can give pleasure to us?"

  "Fate," she replied, "may have in store the joyful restoration of ourbanished Prince."

  "Too late for my time, Alice," said the knight; "if there be such awhite page in the heavenly book, it will not be turned until long aftermy day.--But I see thou wouldst escape me.--In a word, what of thy uncleEverard?"

  "Nay, sir," said Alice, "God knows I would rather be silent for ever,than speak what might, as you would take it, add to your presentdistemperature."

  "Distemperature!" said her father; "Oh, thou art a sweet lippedphysician, and wouldst, I warrant me, drop nought but sweet balm, andhoney, and oil, on my distemperature--if that is the phrase for an oldman's ailment, when he is wellnigh heart-broken.--Once more, what of thyuncle Everard?"

  His last words were uttered in a high and peevish tone of voice; andAlice Lee answered her father in a trembling and submissive tone.

  "I only meant to say, sir, that I am well assured that my uncle Everard,when we quit this place"--

  "That is to say, when we are kicked out of it by crop-eared cantingvillains like himself.--But on with thy bountiful uncle--what will hedo?--will he give us the remains of his worshipful and economicalhousekeeping, the fragments of a thrice-sacked capon twice a-week, and aplentiful fast on the other five days?--Will he give us beds beside hishalf-starved nags, and put them under a short allowance of straw, thathis sister's husband--that I should have called my deceased angel bysuch a name!--and his sister's daughter, may not sleep on the stones? Orwill he send us a noble each, with a warning to make it last, for he hadnever known the ready-penny so hard to come by? Or what else will youruncle Everard do for us? Get us a furlough to beg? Why, I can do thatwithout him."

  "You misconstrue him much," answered Alice, with more spirit than shehad hitherto displayed; "and would you but question your own heart, youwould acknowledge--I speak with reverence--that your tongue utters whatyour better judgment would disown. My uncle Everard is neither a misernor a hypocrite--neither so fond of the goods of this world that hewould not supply our distresses amply, nor so wedded to fanaticalopinions as to exclude charity for other sects beside his own."

  "Ay, ay, the Church of England is a _sect_ with him, I doubt not, andperhaps with thee too, Alice," said the knight. "What is a Muggletonian,or a Ranter, or a Brownist, but a sectary? and thy phrase places themall, with Jack Presbyter himself, on the same footing with our learnedprelates and religious clergy! Such is the cant of the day thou livestin, and why shouldst thou not talk like one of the wise virgins andpsalm-singing sisters, since, though thou hast a profane old cavalierfor a father, thou art own niece to pious uncle Everard?"

  "If you speak thus, my dear father," said Alice, "what can I answer you?Hear me but one patient word, and I shall have discharged my uncleEverard's commission."

  "Oh, it is a commission, then? Surely, I suspected so much from thebeginning--nay, have some sharp guess touching the ambassador also.--Come, madam, the mediator, do your errand, and you shall have no reasonto complain of my patience."

  "Then, sir," replied his daughter, "my uncle Everard desires you wouldbe courteous to the commissio
ners, who come here to sequestrate theparks and the property; or, at least, heedfully to abstain from givingthem obstacle or opposition: it can, he says, do no good, even on yourown principles, and it will give a pretext for proceeding against you asone in the worst degree of malignity, which he thinks may otherwise beprevented. Nay, he has good hope, that if you follow his counsel, thecommittee may, through the interest he possesses, be inclined to removethe sequestration of your estate on a moderate line. Thus says my uncle;and having communicated his advice, I have no occasion to urge yourpatience with farther argument."

  "It is well thou dost not, Alice," answered Sir Henry Lee, in a tone ofsuppressed anger; "for, by the blessed Rood, thou hast well nigh led meinto the heresy of thinking thee no daughter of mine.--Ah! my belovedcompanion, who art now far from the sorrows and cares of this wearyworld, couldst thou have thought that the daughter thou didst clasp tothy bosom, would, like the wicked wife of Job, become a temptress to herfather in the hour of affliction, and recommend to him to make hisconscience truckle to his interest, and to beg back at the bloody handsof his master's and perhaps his son's murderers, a wretched remnant ofthe royal property he has been robbed of!--Why, wench, if I must beg,think'st thou I will sue to those who have made me a mendicant? No. Iwill never show my grey beard, worn in sorrow for my sovereign's death,to move the compassion of some proud sequestrator, who perhaps was oneof the parricides. No. If Henry Lee must sue for food, it shall be ofsome sound loyalist like himself, who, having but half a loaf remaining,will not nevertheless refuse to share it with him. For his daughter, shemay wander her own way, which leads her to a refuge with her wealthyroundhead kinsfolk; but let her no more call him father, whose honestindigence she has refused to share!"

  "You do me injustice, sir," answered the young lady, with a voiceanimated yet faltering, "cruel injustice. God knows, your way is my way,though it lead to ruin and beggary; and while you tread it, my arm shallsupport you while you will accept an aid so feeble."

  "Thou word'st me, girl," answered the old cavalier, "thou word'st me, asWill Shakspeare says--thou speakest of lending me thy arm; but thysecret thought is thyself to hang upon Markham Everard's."

  "My father, my father," answered Alice, in a tone of deep grief, "whatcan thus have altered your clear judgment and kindly heart!--Accursed bethese civil commotions; not only do they destroy men's bodies, but theypervert their souls; and the brave, the noble, the generous, becomesuspicious, harsh, and mean! Why upbraid me with Markham Everard? Have Iseen or spoke to him since you forbid him my company, with terms lesskind--I will speak it truly--than was due even to the relationshipbetwixt you? Why think I would sacrifice to that young man my duty toyou? Know, that were I capable of such criminal weakness, MarkhamEverard were the first to despise me for it."

  She put her handkerchief to her eyes, but she could not hide her sobs,nor conceal the distress they intimated. The old man was moved.

  "I cannot tell," he said, "what to think of it. Thou seem'st sincere,and wert ever a good and kindly daughter--how thou hast let that rebelyouth creep into thy heart I wot not; perhaps it is a punishment on me,who thought the loyalty of my house was like undefiled ermine. Yet hereis a damned spot, and on the fairest gem of all--my own dear Alice. Butdo not weep--we have enough to vex us. Where is it that Shakspeare hathit:--

  'Gentle daughter, Give even way unto my rough affairs: Put you not on the temper of the times, Nor be, like them, to Percy troublesome.'"

  "I am glad," answered the young lady, "to hear you quote your favouriteagain, sir. Our little jars are ever wellnigh ended when Shakspearecomes in play."

  "His book was the closet-companion of my blessed master," said Sir HenryLee; "after the Bible, (with reverence for naming them together,) hefelt more comfort in it than in any other; and as I have shared hisdisease, why, it is natural I should take his medicine. Albeit, Ipretend not to my master's art in explaining the dark passages; for I ambut a rude man, and rustically brought up to arms and hunting."

  "You have seen Shakspeare yourself, sir?" said the young lady.

  "Silly wench," replied the knight, "he died when I was a merechild--thou hast heard me say so twenty times; but thou wouldst lead theold man away from the tender subject. Well, though I am not blind, I canshut my eyes and follow. Ben Jonson I knew, and could tell thee many atale of our meetings at the Mermaid, where, if there was much wine,there was much wit also. We did not sit blowing tobacco in each other'sfaces, and turning up the whites of our eyes as we turned up the bottomof the wine-pot. Old Ben adopted me as one of his sons in the muses. Ihave shown you, have I not, the verses, 'To my much beloved son, theworshipful Sir Henry Lee of Ditchley, Knight and Baronet?'"

  "I do not remember them at present, sir," replied Alice.

  "I fear ye lie, wench," said her father; "but no matter--thou canst notget any more fooling out of me just now. The Evil Spirit hath left Saulfor the present. We are now to think what is to be done about leavingWoodstock--or defending it?"

  "My dearest father," said Alice, "can you still nourish a moment's hopeof making good the place?"

  "I know not, wench," replied Sir Henry; "I would fain have a partingblow with them, 'tis certain--and who knows where a blessing may alight?But then, my poor knaves that must take part with me in so hopeless aquarrel--that thought hampers me I confess."

  "Oh, let it do so, sir," replied Alice; "there are soldiers in the town,and there are three regiments at Oxford!"

  "Ah, poor Oxford!" exclaimed Sir Henry, whose vacillating state of mindwas turned by a word to any new subject that was suggested,--"Seat oflearning and loyalty! these rude soldiers are unfit inmates for thylearned halls and poetical bowers; but thy pure and brilliant lamp shalldefy the foul breath of a thousand churls, were they to blow at it likeBoreas. The burning bush shall not be consumed, even by the heat of thispersecution."

  "True, sir," said Alice, "and it may not be useless to recollect, thatany stirring of the royalists at this unpropitious moment will make themdeal yet more harshly with the University, which they consider as beingat the bottom of every thing which moves for the King in these parts."

  "It is true, wench," replied the knight; "and small cause would make thevillains sequestrate the poor remains which the civil wars have left tothe colleges. That, and the risk of my poor fellows--Well! thou hastdisarmed me, girl. I will be as patient and calm as a martyr."

  "Pray God you keep your word, sir!" replied his daughter; "but you areever so much moved at the sight of any of these men, that"--

  "Would you make a child of me, Alice?" said Sir Henry. "Why, know younot that I can look upon a viper, or a toad, or a bunch of engenderingadders, without any worse feeling than a little disgust? and though aroundhead, and especially a red-coat, are in my opinion more poisonousthan vipers, more loathsome than toads, more hateful than knottedadders, yet can I overcome my nature so far, that should one of themappear at this moment, thyself should see how civilly I would entreathim."

  As he spoke, the military preacher abandoned his leafy screen, andstalking forward, stood unexpectedly before the old cavalier, who staredat him, as if he had thought his expressions had actually raised adevil.

  "Who art thou?" at length said Sir Henry, in a raised and angry voice,while his daughter clung to his arm in terror, little confident that herfather's pacific resolutions would abide the shock of this unwelcomeapparition.

  "I am, one," replied the soldier, "who neither fear nor shame to callmyself a poor day-labourer in the great work of England--umph!--Ay, asimple and sincere upholder of the good old cause."

  "And what the devil do you seek here?" said the old knight, fiercely.

  "The welcome due to the steward of the Lords Commissioners," answeredthe soldier.

  "Welcome art thou as salt would be to sore eyes," said the cavalier;"but who be your Commissioners, man?"

  The soldier with little courtesy held out a scroll, which Sir Henry tookfrom him betwixt his finger and thumb, as if it were a letter from apest-hous
e; and held it at as much distance from his eyes, as hispurpose of reading it would permit. He then read aloud, and as he namedthe parties one by one, he added a short commentary on each name,addressed, indeed, to Alice, but in such a tone that showed he cared notfor its being heard by the soldier.

  "_Desborough_--the ploughman Desborough--as grovelling a clown as is inEngland--a fellow that would be best at home like an ancient Scythian,under the tilt of a waggon--d--n him. _Harrison_--a bloody-minded,ranting enthusiast, who read the Bible to such purpose, that he neverlacked a text to justify a murder--d--n him too. _Bletson_--a true-blueCommonwealth's man, one of Harrison's Rota Club, with his noddle full ofnew fangled notions about government, the clearest object of which is toestablish the tail upon the head; a fellow who leaves you the statutesand law of old England, to prate of Rome and Greece--sees the Areopagusin Westminster-Hall, and takes old Noll for a Roman consul--Adad, he islike to prove a dictator amongst them instead. Never mind--d--n Bletsontoo."

  "Friend," said the soldier, "I would willingly be civil, but it consistsnot with my duty to hear these godly men, in whose service I am, spokenof after this irreverent and unbecoming fashion. And albeit I know thatyou malignants think you have a right to make free with that damnation,which you seem to use as your own portion, yet it is superfluous toinvoke it against others, who have better hopes in their thoughts, andbetter words in their mouths."

  "Thou art but a canting varlet," replied the knight; "and yet thou artright in some sense--for it is superfluous to curse men who already aredamned as black as the smoke of hell itself."

  "I prithee forbear," continued the soldier, "for manners' sake, if notfor conscience--grisly oaths suit ill with grey beards."

  "Nay, that is truth, if the devil spoke it," said the knight; "and Ithank Heaven I can follow good counsel, though old Nick gives it. Andso, friend, touching these same Commissioners, bear them this message;that Sir Henry Lee is keeper of Woodstock Park, with right of waif andstray, vert and venison, as complete as any of them have to theirestate--that is, if they possess any estate but what they have gained byplundering honest men. Nevertheless, he will give place to those whohave made their might their right, and will not expose the lives of goodand true men, where the odds are so much against them. And he proteststhat he makes this surrender, neither as acknowledging of these sotermed Commissioners, nor as for his own individual part fearing theirforce, but purely to avoid the loss of English blood, of which so muchhath been spilt in these late times."

  "It is well spoken," said the steward of the Commissioners; "andtherefore, I pray you, let us walk together into the house, that thoumay'st deliver up unto me the vessels, and gold and silver ornaments,belonging unto the Egyptian Pharaoh, who committed them to thy keeping."

  "What vessels?" exclaimed the fiery old knight; "and belonging to whom?Unbaptized dog, speak civil of the Martyr in my presence, or I will do adeed misbecoming of me on that caitiff corpse of thine!"--And shakinghis daughter from his right arm, the old man laid his hand on hisrapier.

  His antagonist, on the contrary, kept his temper completely, and wavinghis hand to add impression to his speech, he said, with a calmness whichaggravated Sir Henry's wrath, "Nay, good friend, I prithee be still, andbrawl not--it becomes not grey hairs and feeble arms to rail and rantlike drunkards. Put me not to use the carnal weapon in mine own defence,but listen to the voice of reason. See'st thou not that the Lord hathdecided this great controversy in favour of us and ours, against theeand thine? Wherefore, render up thy stewardship peacefully, and deliverup to me the chattels of the Man, Charles Stewart."

  "Patience is a good nag, but she will bolt," said the knight, unablelonger to rein in his wrath. He plucked his sheathed rapier from hisside, struck the soldier a severe blow with it, and instantly drawingit, and throwing the scabbard over the trees, placed himself in aposture of defence, with his sword's point within half a yard of thesteward's body. The latter stepped back with activity, threw his longcloak from his shoulders, and drawing his long tuck, stood upon hisguard. The swords clashed smartly together, while Alice, in her terror,screamed wildly for assistance. But the combat was of short duration.The old cavalier had attacked a man as cunning of fence as he himself,or a little more so, and possessing all the strength and activity ofwhich time had deprived Sir Henry, and the calmness which the other hadlost in his passion. They had scarce exchanged three passes ere thesword of the knight flew up in the air, as if it had gone in search ofthe scabbard; and burning with shame and anger, Sir Henry stooddisarmed, at the mercy of his antagonist. The republican showed nopurpose of abusing his victory; nor did he, either during the combat, orafter the victory was won, in any respect alter the sour and gravecomposure which reigned upon his countenance--a combat of life and deathseemed to him a thing as familiar, and as little to be feared, as anordinary bout with foils.

  "Thou art delivered into my hands," he said, "and by the law of arms Imight smite thee under the fifth rib, even as Asahel was struck dead byAbner, the son of Ner, as he followed the chase on the hill of Ammah,that lieth before Giah, in the way of the wilderness of Gibeon; but farbe it from me to spill thy remaining drops of blood. True it is, thouart the captive of my sword and of my spear; nevertheless, seeing thatthere may be a turning from thy evil ways, and a returning to thosewhich are good, if the Lord enlarge thy date for repentance andamendment, wherefore should it be shortened by a poor sinful mortal, whois, speaking truly, but thy fellow-worm."

  Sir Henry Lee remained still confused, and unable to answer, when therearrived a fourth person, whom the cries of Alice had summoned to thespot. This was Joceline Joliffe, one of the under-keepers of the walk,who, seeing how matters stood, brandished his quarterstaff, a weaponfrom which he never parted, and having made it describe the figure ofeight in a flourish through the air, would have brought it down with avengeance upon the head of the steward, had not Sir Henry interposed.

  "We must trail bats now, Joceline--our time of shouldering them is past.It skills not striving against the stream--the devil rules the roast,and makes our slaves our tutors."

  At this moment another auxiliary rushed out of the thicket to theknight's assistance. It was a large wolf-dog, in strength a mastiff, inform and almost in fleetness a greyhound. Bevis was the noblest of thekind which ever pulled down a stag, tawny coloured like a lion, with ablack muzzle and black feet, just edged with a line of white round thetoes. He was as tractable as he was strong and bold. Just as he wasabout to rush upon the soldier, the words, "Peace, Bevis!" from SirHenry, converted the lion into a lamb, and instead of pulling thesoldier down, he walked round and round, and snuffed, as if using allhis sagacity to discover who the stranger could be, towards whom, thoughof so questionable an appearance, he was enjoined forbearance.Apparently he was satisfied, for he laid aside his doubtful andthreatening demonstrations, lowered his ears, smoothed down hisbristles, and wagged his tail.

  Sir Henry, who had great respect for the sagacity of his favourite, saidin a low voice to Alice, "Bevis is of thy opinion and counselssubmission. There is the finger of Heaven in this to punish the pride,ever the fault of our house.--Friend," he continued, addressing thesoldier, "thou hast given the finishing touch to a lesson, which tenyears of constant misfortune have been unable fully to teach me. Thouhast distinctly shown me the folly of thinking that a good cause canstrengthen a weak arm. God forgive me for the thought, but I couldalmost turn infidel, and believe that Heaven's blessing goes ever withthe longest sword; but it will not be always thus. God knows histime.--Reach me my Toledo, Joceline, yonder it lies; and the scabbard,see where it hangs on the tree.--Do not pull at my cloak, Alice, andlook so miserably frightened; I shall be in no hurry to betake me tobright steel again, I promise thee.--For thee, good fellow, I thankthee, and will make way for thy masters without farther dispute orceremony. Joceline Joliffe is nearer thy degree than I am, and will makesurrender to thee of the Lodge and household stuff. Withhold nothing,Joliffe--let them have all. For me, I will never cross the thre
sholdagain--but where to rest for a night? I would trouble no one inWoodstock--hum--ay--it shall be so. Alice and I, Joceline, will go downto thy hut by Rosamond's well; we will borrow the shelter of thy rooffor one night at least; thou wilt give us welcome, wilt thou not?--Hownow--a clouded brow?"

  Joceline certainly looked embarrassed, directed a first glance to Alice,then looked to Heaven, then to earth, and last to the four quarters ofthe horizon, and then murmured out, "Certainly--without question--mighthe but run down to put the house in order."

  "Order enough--order enough for those that may soon be glad of cleanstraw in a barn," said the knight; "but if thou hast an ill-will toharbour any obnoxious or malignant persons, as the phrase goes, nevershame to speak it out, man. 'Tis true, I took thee up when thou wert buta ragged Robin," (as the keeper's followers in the New Forest are calledin popular language,) "made a keeper of thee, and so forth. What ofthat? Sailors think no longer of the wind than when it forwards them onthe voyage--thy betters turn with the tide, why should not such a poorknave as thou?"

  "God pardon your honour for your harsh judgment," said Joliffe. "The hutis yours, such as it is, and should be were it a King's palace, as Iwish it were even for your honour's sake, and Mistress Alice's--only Icould wish your honour would condescend to let me step down before, incase any neighbour be there--or--or--just to put matters something intoorder for Mistress Alice and your honour--just to make things somethingseemly and shapely."

  "Not a whit necessary," said the knight, while Alice had much trouble inconcealing her agitation. "If thy matters are unseemly, they are fitterfor a defeated knight--if they are unshapely, why, the liker to the restof a world, which is all unshaped. Go thou with that man.--What is thyname, friend?"

  "Joseph Tomkins is my name in the flesh," said the steward. "Men call meHonest Joe, and Trusty Tomkins."

  "If thou hast deserved such names, considering what trade thou hastdriven, thou art a jewel indeed," said the knight; "yet if thou hastnot, never blush for the matter, Joseph, for if thou art not in truthhonest, thou hast all the better chance to keep the fame of it--thetitle and the thing itself have long walked separate ways. Farewell tothee,--and farewell to fair Woodstock!"

  So saying, the old knight turned round, and pulling his daughter's armthrough his own, they walked onward into the forest, in the same mannerin which they were introduced to the reader.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE THIRD.

  Now, ye wild blades, that make loose inns your stage, To vapour forth the acts of this sad age, Stout Edgehill fight, the Newberries and the West, And northern clashes, where you still fought best; Your strange escapes, your dangers void of fear, When bullets flew between the head and ear, Whether you fought by Damme or the Spirit, Of you I speak.

  LEGEND OF CAPTAIN JONES.

  Joseph Tomkins and Joliffe the keeper remained for some time in silence,as they stood together looking along the path in which the figures ofthe Knight of Ditchley and pretty Mistress Alice had disappeared behindthe trees. They then gazed on each other in doubt, as men who scarceknew whether they stood on hostile or on friendly terms together, andwere at a loss how to open a conversation. They heard the knight'swhistle summon Bevis; but though the good hound turned his head andpricked his ears at the sound, yet he did not obey the call, butcontinued to snuff around Joseph Tomkins's cloak.

  "Thou art a rare one, I fear me," said the keeper, looking to his newacquaintance. "I have heard of men who have charms to steal both dogsand deer."

  "Trouble not thyself about my qualities, friend," said Joseph Tomkins,"but bethink thee of doing thy master's bidding."

  Joceline did not immediately answer, but at length, as if in sign oftruce, stuck the end of his quarterstaff upright in the ground, andleant upon it as he said gruffly,--"So, my tough old knight and you wereat drawn bilbo, by way of afternoon service, sir preacher--Well for youI came not up till the blades were done jingling, or I had rungeven-song upon your pate."

  The Independent smiled grimly as he replied, "Nay, friend, it is wellfor thyself, for never should sexton have been better paid for the knellhe tolled. Nevertheless, why should there be war betwixt us, or my handbe against thine? Thou art but a poor knave, doing thy master's order,nor have I any desire that my own blood or thine should be shed touchingthis matter.--Thou art, I understand, to give me peaceful possession ofthe Palace of Woodstock, so called--though there is now no palace inEngland, no, nor shall be in the days that come after, until we shallenter the palace of the New Jerusalem, and the reign of the Saints shallcommence on earth."

  "Pretty well begun already, friend Tomkins," said the keeper; "you arelittle short of being kings already upon the matter as it now stands;and for your Jerusalem I wot not, but Woodstock is a pretty nest-egg tobegin with.--Well, will you shog--will you on--will you take sasine andlivery?--You heard my orders."

  "Umph--I know not," said Tomkins. "I must beware of ambuscades, and I amalone here. Moreover, it is the High Thanksgiving appointed byParliament, and owned to by the army--also the old man and the youngwoman may want to recover some of their clothes and personal property,and I would not that they were baulked on my account. Wherefore, if thouwilt deliver me possession to-morrow morning, it shall be done inpersonal presence of my own followers, and of the Presbyterian man theMayor, so that the transfer may be made before witnesses; whereas, werethere none with us but thou to deliver, and I to take possession, themen of Belial might say, Go to, Trusty Tomkins hath been an Edomite--Honest Joe hath been as an Ishmaelite, rising up early and dividing thespoil with them that served the Man--yea, they that wore beards andgreen Jerkins, as in remembrance of the Man and of his government."

  Joceline fixed his keen dark eyes upon the soldier as he spoke, as if indesign to discover whether there was fair play in his mind or not. Hethen applied his five fingers to scratch a large shock head of hair, asif that operation was necessary to enable him to come to a conclusion."This is all fair sounding, brother," said he; "but I tell you plainlythere are some silver mugs, and platters, and flagons, and so forth, inyonder house, which have survived the general sweep that sent all ourplate to the smelting-pot, to put our knight's troop on horseback. Now,if thou takest not these off my hand, I may come to trouble, since itmay be thought I have minished their numbers.--Whereas, I being ashonest a fellow"--

  "As ever stole venison," said Tomkins--"nay, I do owe thee aninterruption."

  "Go to, then," replied the keeper; "if a stag may have come to mischancein my walk, it was no way in the course of dishonesty, but merely tokeep my old dame's pan from rusting; but for silver porringers,tankards, and such like, I would as soon have drunk the melted silver,as stolen the vessel made out of it. So that I would not wish blame orsuspicion fell on me in this matter. And, therefore, if you will havethe things rendered even now,--why so--and if not, hold me blameless."

  "Ay, truly," said Tomkins; "and who is to hold me blameless, if theyshould see cause to think any thing minished? Not the right worshipfulCommissioners, to whom the property of the estate is as their own;therefore, as thou say'st, we must walk warily in the matter. To lock upthe house and leave it, were but the work of simple ones. What say'stthou to spend the night there, and then nothing can be touched withoutthe knowledge of us both?"

  "Why, concerning that," answered the keeper, "I should be at my hut tomake matters somewhat conformable for the old knight and Mistress Alice,for my old dame Joan is something dunny, and will scarce know how tomanage--and yet,--to speak the truth, by the mass I would rather not seeSir Henry to-night, since what has happened to-day hath roused hisspleen, and it is a peradventure he may have met something at the hutwhich will scarce tend to cool it."

  "It is a pity," said Tomkins, "that being a gentleman of such grave andgoodly presence, he should be such a malignant cavalier, and that heshould, like the rest of that generation of vipers, have clothed himselfwith curses as with a garment."

  "Which is as much as to say,
the tough old knight hath a habit ofswearing," said the keeper, grinning at a pun, which has been repeatedsince his time; "but who can help it? it comes of use and wont. Were younow, in your bodily self, to light suddenly on a Maypole, with all theblithe morris-dancers prancing around it to the merry pipe and tabor,with bells jingling, ribands fluttering, lads frisking and laughing,lasses leaping till you might see where the scarlet garter fastened thelight blue hose, I think some feeling, resembling either naturalsociality, or old use and wont, would get the better, friend, even ofthy gravity, and thou wouldst fling thy cuckoldy steeple-hat one way,and that blood-thirsty long sword another, and trip, like the noodles ofHogs-Norton, when the pigs play on the organ."

  The Independent turned fiercely round on the keeper, and replied, "Hownow, Mr. Green Jerkin? what language is this to one whose hand is at theplough? I advise thee to put curb on thy tongue, lest thy ribs pay theforfeit."

  "Nay, do not take the high tone with me, brother" answered Joceline;"remember thou hast not the old knight of sixty-five to deal with, but afellow as bitter and prompt as thyself--it may be a little more so--younger, at all events--and prithee, why shouldst thou take such umbrageat a Maypole? I would thou hadst known one Phil Hazeldine of theseparts--He was the best morris-dancer betwixt Oxford and Burford."

  "The more shame to him," answered the Independent; "and I trust he hasseen the error of his ways, and made himself (as, if a man of action, heeasily might) fit for better company than wood-hunters, deer-stealers,Maid Marions, swash-bucklers, deboshed revellers, bloody brawlers,maskers, and mummers, lewd men and light women, fools and fiddlers, andcarnal self-pleasers of every description."

  "Well," replied the keeper, "you are out of breath in time; for here westand before the famous Maypole of Woodstock."

  They paused in an open space of meadow-land, beautifully skirted bylarge oaks and sycamores, one of which, as king of the forest, stood alittle detached from the rest, as if scorning the vicinity of any rival.It was scathed and gnarled in the branches, but the immense trunk stillshowed to what gigantic size the monarch of the forest can attain in thegroves of merry England.

  "That is called the King's Oak," said Joceline; "the oldest men ofWoodstock know not how old it is; they say Henry used to sit under itwith fair Rosamond, and see the lasses dance, and the lads of thevillage run races, and wrestle for belts or bonnets."

  "I nothing doubt it, friend," said Tomkins; "a tyrant and a harlot werefitting patron and patroness for such vanities."

  "Thou mayst say thy say, friend," replied the keeper, "so thou lettestme say mine. There stands the Maypole, as thou seest, half a flight-shotfrom the King's Oak, in the midst of the meadow. The King gave tenshillings from the customs of Woodstock to make a new one yearly,besides a tree fitted for the purpose out of the forest. Now it iswarped, and withered, and twisted, like a wasted brier-rod. The green,too, used to be close-shaved, and rolled till it was smooth as a velvetmantle--now it is rough and overgrown."

  "Well, well, friend Joceline," said the Independent, "but where was theedification of all this?--what use of doctrine could be derived from apipe and tabor? or was there ever aught like wisdom in a bagpipe?"

  "You may ask better scholars that," said Joceline; "but methinks mencannot be always grave, and with the hat over their brow. A young maidenwill laugh as a tender flower will blow--ay, and a lad will like her thebetter for it; just as the same blithe Spring that makes the young birdswhistle, bids the blithe fawns skip. There have come worse days sincethe jolly old times have gone by:--I tell thee, that in the holydayswhich you, Mr. Longsword, have put down, I have seen this greenswardalive with merry maidens and manly fellows. The good old rector himselfthought it was no sin to come for a while and look on, and his goodlycassock and scarf kept us all in good order, and taught us to limit ourmirth within the bounds of discretion. We might, it may be, crack abroad jest, or pledge a friendly cup a turn too often, but it was inmirth and good neighbour-hood--Ay, and if there was a bout atsingle-stick, or a bellyful of boxing, it was all for love and kindness;and better a few dry blows in drink, than the bloody doings we have hadin sober earnest, since the presbyter's cap got above the bishop'smitre, and we exchanged our goodly rectors and learned doctors, whosesermons were all bolstered up with as much Greek and Latin as might haveconfounded the devil himself, for weavers and cobblers, and such otherpulpit volunteers, as--as we heard this morning--It will out."

  "Well, friend," said the Independent, with patience scarcely to havebeen expected, "I quarrel not with thee for nauseating my doctrine. Ifthine ear is so much tickled with tabor tunes and morris tripping, trulyit is not likely thou shouldst find pleasant savour in more wholesomeand sober food. But let us to the Lodge, that we may go about ourbusiness there before the sun sets."

  "Troth, and that may be advisable for more reasons than one," said thekeeper; "for there have been tales about the Lodge which have made menafeard to harbour there after nightfall."

  "Were not yon old knight, and yonder damsel his daughter, wont to dwellthere?" said the Independent. "My information said so."

  "Ay, truly did they," said Joceline; "and while they kept a jollyhouse-hold, all went well enough; for nothing banishes fear like goodale. But after the best of our men went to the wars, and were slain atNaseby fight, they who were left found the Lodge more lonesome, and theold knight has been much deserted of his servants:--marry, it might be,that he has lacked silver of late to pay groom and lackey."

  "A potential reason for the diminution of a household," said thesoldier.

  "Right, sir, even so," replied the keeper. "They spoke of steps in thegreat gallery, heard by dead of the night, and voices that whispered atnoon, in the matted chambers; and the servants pretended that thesethings scared them away; but, in my poor judgment, when Martinmas andWhitsuntide came round without a penny-fee, the old blue-bottles ofserving-men began to think of creeping elsewhere before the frostchilled them.--No devil so frightful as that which dances in the pocketwhere there is no cross to keep him out."

  "You were reduced, then, to a petty household?" said the Independent.

  "Ay, marry, were we," said Joceline; "but we kept some half-scoretogether, what with blue-bottles in the Lodge, what with greencaterpillars of the chase, like him who is yours to command; we stucktogether till we found a call to take a morning's ride somewhere orother."

  "To the town of Worcester," said the soldier, "where you were crushedlike vermin and palmer worms, as you are."

  "You may say your pleasure," replied the keeper; "I'll never contradicta man who has got my head under his belt. Our backs are at the wall, oryou would not be here."

  "Nay, friend," said the Independent, "thou riskest nothing by thyfreedom and trust in me. I can be _bon camarado_ to a good soldier,although I have striven with him even to the going down of the sun.--Buthere we are in front of the Lodge."

  They stood accordingly in front of the old Gothic building, irregularlyconstructed, and at different times, as the humour of the Englishmonarchs led them to taste the pleasures of Woodstock Chase, and to makesuch improvements for their own accommodation as the increasing luxuryof each age required. The oldest part of the structure had been named bytradition Fair Rosamond's Tower; it was a small turret of great height,with narrow windows, and walls of massive thickness. The Tower had noopening to the ground, or means of descending, a great part of the lowerportion being solid mason-work. It was traditionally said to have beenaccessible only by a sort of small drawbridge, which might be dropped atpleasure from a little portal near the summit of the turret, to thebattlements of another tower of the same construction, but twenty feetlower, and containing only a winding staircase, called in WoodstockLove's Ladder; because it is said, that by ascending this staircase tothe top of the tower, and then making use of the drawbridge, Henryobtained access to the chamber of his paramour.

  This tradition had been keenly impugned by Dr. Rochecliffe, the formerrector of Woodstock, who insisted, that what was called Rosamond'sTowe
r, was merely an interior keep, or citadel, to which the lord orwarden of the castle might retreat, when other points of safety failedhim; and either protract his defence, or, at the worst, stipulate forreasonable terms of surrender. The people of Woodstock, jealous of theirancient traditions, did not relish this new mode of explaining themaway; and it is even said, that the Mayor, whom we have alreadyintroduced, became Presbyterian, in revenge of the doubts cast by therector upon this important subject, rather choosing to give up theLiturgy than his fixed belief in Rosamond's Tower, and Love's Ladder.

  The rest of the Lodge was of considerable extent, and of different ages;comprehending a nest of little courts, surrounded by buildings whichcorresponded with each other, sometimes within-doors, sometimes bycrossing the courts, and frequently in both ways. The different heightsof the buildings announced that they could only be connected by theusual variety of staircases, which exercised the limbs of our ancestorsin the sixteenth and earlier centuries, and seem sometimes to have beencontrived for no other purpose.

  The varied and multiplied fronts of this irregular building were, as Dr.Rochecliffe was wont to say, an absolute banquet to the architecturalantiquary, as they certainly contained specimens of every style whichexisted, from the pure Norman of Henry of Anjou, down to the composite,half Gothic half classical architecture of Elizabeth and her successor.Accordingly, the rector was himself as much enamoured of Woodstock asever was Henry of Fair Rosamond; and as his intimacy with Sir Henry Leepermitted him entrance at all times to the Royal Lodge, he used to spendwhole days in wandering about the antique apartments, examining,measuring, studying, and finding out excellent reasons for architecturalpeculiarities, which probably only owed their existence to the freakishfancy of a Gothic artist. But the old antiquary had been expelled fromhis living by the intolerance and troubles of the times, and hissuccessor, Nehemiah Holdenough, would have considered an elaborateinvestigation of the profane sculpture and architecture of blinded andblood-thirsty Papists, together with the history of the dissolute amoursof old Norman monarchs, as little better than a bowing down before thecalves of Bethel, and a drinking of the cup of abominations.--We returnto the course of our story.

  "There is," said the Independent Tomkins, after he had carefully perusedthe front of the building, "many a rare monument of olden wickednessabout this miscalled Royal Lodge; verily, I shall rejoice much to seethe same destroyed, yea, burned to ashes, and the ashes thrown into thebrook Kedron, or any other brook, that the land may be cleansed from thememory thereof, neither remember the iniquity with which their fathershave sinned."

  The keeper heard him with secret indignation, and began to consider withhimself, whether, as they stood but one to one, and without chance ofspeedy interference, he was not called upon, by his official duty, tocastigate the rebel who used language so defamatory. But he fortunatelyrecollected, that the strife must be a doubtful one--that the advantageof arms was against him--and that, in especial, even if he shouldsucceed in the combat, it would be at the risk of severe retaliation. Itmust be owned, too, that there was something about the Independent sodark and mysterious, so grim and grave, that the more open spirit of thekeeper felt oppressed, and, if not overawed, at least kept in doubtconcerning him; and he thought it wisest, as well as safest, for hismaster and himself, to avoid all subjects of dispute, and know betterwith whom he was dealing, before he made either friend or enemy of him.

  The great gate of the Lodge was strongly bolted, but the wicket openedon Joceline's raising the latch. There was a short passage of ten feet,which had been formerly closed by a portcullis at the inner end, whilethree loopholes opened on either side, through which any daring intrudermight be annoyed, who, having surprised the first gate, must be thusexposed to a severe fire before he could force the second. But themachinery of the portcullis was damaged, and it now remained a fixture,brandishing its jaw, well furnished with iron fangs, but incapable ofdropping it across the path of invasion.

  The way, therefore, lay open to the great hall or outer vestibule of theLodge. One end of this long and dusky apartment was entirely occupied bya gallery, which had in ancient times served to accommodate themusicians and minstrels. There was a clumsy staircase at either side ofit, composed of entire logs of a foot square; and in each angle of theascent was placed, by way of sentinel, the figure of a Normanfoot-soldier, having an open casque on his head, which displayedfeatures as stern as the painter's genius could devise. Their arms werebuff-jackets, or shirts of mail, round bucklers, with spikes in thecentre, and buskins which adorned and defended the feet and ankles, butleft the knees bare. These wooden warders held great swords, or maces,in their hands, like military guards on duty. Many an empty hook andbrace, along the walls of the gloomy apartment, marked the spots fromwhich arms, long preserved as trophies, had been, in the pressure of thewars, once more taken down, to do service in the field, like veteranswhom extremity of danger recalls to battle. On other rusty fasteningswere still displayed the hunting trophies of the monarchs to whom theLodge belonged, and of the silvan knights to whose care it had been fromtime to time confided.

  At the nether end of the hall, a huge, heavy, stone-wroughtchimney-piece projected itself ten feet from the wall, adorned with manya cipher, and many a scutcheon of the Royal House of England. In itspresent state, it yawned like the arched mouth of a funeral vault, orperhaps might be compared to the crater of an extinguished volcano. Butthe sable complexion of the massive stone-work, and all around it,showed that the time had been when it sent its huge fires blazing up thehuge chimney, besides puffing many a volume of smoke over the heads ofthe jovial guests, whose royalty or nobility did not render themsensitive enough to quarrel with such slight inconvenience. On theseoccasions, it was the tradition of the house, that two cart-loads ofwood was the regular allowance for the fire between noon and curfew, andthe andirons, or dogs, as they were termed, constructed for retainingthe blazing firewood on the hearth, were wrought in the shape of lionsof such gigantic size as might well warrant the legend. There were longseats of stone within the chimney, where, in despite of the tremendousheat, monarchs were sometimes said to have taken their station, andamused themselves with broiling the _umbles_, or _dowsels_, of the deer,upon the glowing embers, with their own royal hands, when happy thecourtier who was invited to taste the royal cookery. Tradition was herealso ready with her record, to show what merry gibes, such as might beexchanged between prince and peer, had flown about at the jolly banquetwhich followed the Michaelmas hunt. She could tell, too, exactly, whereKing Stephen sat when he darned his own princely hose, and knew most ofthe odd tricks he had put upon little Winkin, the tailor of Woodstock.

  Most of this rude revelry belonged to the Plantagenet times. When thehouse of Tudor ascended to the throne, they were more chary of theirroyal presence, and feasted in halls and chambers far within, abandoningthe outmost hall to the yeomen of the guard, who mounted their watchthere, and passed away the night with wassail and mirth, exchangedsometimes for frightful tales of apparitions and sorceries, which madesome of those grow pale, in whose ears the trumpet of a French foemanwould have sounded as jollily as a summons to the woodland chase.

  Joceline pointed out the peculiarities of the place to his gloomycompanion more briefly than we have detailed them to the reader. TheIndependent seemed to listen with some interest at first, but, flingingit suddenly aside, he said in a solemn tone, "Perish, Babylon, as thymaster Nebuchadnezzar hath perished! He is a wanderer, and thou shalt bea waste place--yea, and a wilderness--yea, a desert of salt, in whichthere shall be thirst and famine."

  "There is like to be enough of both to-night," said Joceline, "unlessthe good knight's larder be somewhat fuller than it is wont."

  "We must care for the creature-comforts," said the Independent, "but indue season, when our duties are done. Whither lead these entrances?"

  "That to the right," replied the keeper, "leads to what are called, thestate-apartments, not used since the year sixteen hundred andthirty-nine, when his blessed
Majesty"--

  "How, sir!" interrupted the Independent, in a voice of thunder, "dostthou speak of Charles Stewart as blessing, or blessed?--beware theproclamation to that effect."

  "I meant no harm," answered the keeper, suppressing his disposition tomake a harsher reply. "My business is with bolts and bucks, not withtitles and state affairs. But yet, whatever may have happed since, thatpoor King was followed with blessings enough from Woodstock, for he lefta glove full of broad pieces for the poor of the place"--

  "Peace, friend," said the Independent; "I will think thee else one ofthose besotted and blinded Papists, who hold, that bestowing of alms isan atonement and washing away of the wrongs and oppressions which havebeen wrought by the almsgiver. Thou sayest, then, these were theapartments of Charles Stewart?"

  "And of his father, James, before him, and Elizabeth, before _him_, andbluff King Henry, who builded that wing, before them all."

  "And there, I suppose, the knight and his daughter dwelt?"

  "No," replied Joceline; "Sir Henry Lee had too much reverence for--forthings which are now thought worth no reverence at all--Besides, thestate-rooms are unaired, and in indifferent order, since of late years.The Knight Ranger's apartment lies by that passage to the left."

  "And whither goes yonder stair, which seems both to lead upwards anddownwards?"

  "Upwards," replied the keeper, "it leads to many apartments, used forvarious purposes, of sleeping, and other accommodation. Downwards, tothe kitchen, offices, and vaults of the castle, which, at this time ofthe evening, you cannot see without lights."

  "We will to the apartments of your knight, then," said the Independent."Is there fitting accommodation there?"

  "Such as has served a person of condition, whose lodging is now worseappointed," answered the honest keeper, his bile rising so fast that headded, in a muttering and inaudible tone, "so it may well serve acrop-eared knave like thee."

  He acted as the usher, however, and led on towards the ranger'sapartments.

  This suite opened by a short passage from the hall, secured at time ofneed by two oaken doors, which could be fastened by large bars of thesame, that were drawn out of the wall, and entered into square holes,contrived for their reception on the other side of the portal. At theend of this passage, a small ante-room received them, into which openedthe sitting apartment of the good knight--which, in the style of thetime, might have been termed a fair summer parlour--lighted by two orielwindows, so placed as to command each of them a separate avenue, leadingdistant and deep into the forest. The principal ornament of theapartment, besides two or three family portraits of less interest, was atall full-length picture, that hung above the chimney-piece, which, likethat in the hall, was of heavy stone-work, ornamented with carvedscutcheons, emblazoned with various devices. The portrait was that of aman about fifty years of age, in complete plate armour, and painted inthe harsh and dry manner of Holbein--probably, indeed, the work of thatartist, as the dates corresponded. The formal and marked angles, pointsand projections of the armour, were a good subject for the harsh pencilof that early school. The face of the knight was, from the fading of thecolours, pale and dim, like that of some being from the other world, yetthe lines expressed forcibly pride and exultation.

  He pointed with his leading-staff, or truncheon, to the background,where, in such perspective as the artist possessed, were depicted theremains of a burning church, or monastery, and four or five soldiers, inred cassocks, bearing away in triumph what seemed a brazen font orlaver. Above their heads might be traced in scroll, "_Lee Victor sicvoluit_." Right opposite to the picture, hung, in a niche in the wall, acomplete set of tilting armour, the black and gold colours, andornaments of which exactly corresponded with those exhibited in theportrait.

  The picture was one of those which, from something marked in thefeatures and expression, attract the observation even of those who areignorant of art. The Independent looked at it until a smile passedtransiently over his clouded brow. Whether he smiled to see the grim oldcavalier employed in desecrating a religious house--(an occupation muchconforming to the practice of his own sect)--whether he smiled incontempt of the old painter's harsh and dry mode of working--or whetherthe sight of this remarkable portrait revived some other ideas, theunder-keeper could not decide.

  The smile passed away in an instant, as the soldier looked to the orielwindows. The recesses within them were raised a step or two from thewall. In one was placed a walnut-tree reading-desk, and a huge stuffedarm-chair, covered with Spanish leather. A little cabinet stood beside,with some of its shuttles and drawers open, displaying hawks-bells,dog-whistles, instruments for trimming falcons' feathers, bridle-bits ofvarious constructions, and other trifles connected with silvan sport.

  The other little recess was differently furnished. There lay somearticles of needle-work on a small table, besides a lute, with a bookhaving some airs written down in it, and a frame for working embroidery.Some tapestry was displayed around the recess, with more attention toornament than was visible in the rest of the apartment; the arrangementof a few bow-pots, with such flowers as the fading season afforded,showed also the superintendence of female taste.

  Tomkins cast an eye of careless regard upon these subjects of femaleoccupation, then stepped into the farther window, and began to turn theleaves of a folio, which lay open on the reading-desk, apparently withsome interest. Joceline, who had determined to watch his motions withoutinterfering with them, was standing at some distance in dejectedsilence, when a door behind the tapestry suddenly opened, and a prettyvillage maid tripped out with a napkin in her hand, as if she had beenabout some household duty.

  "How now, Sir Impudence?" she said to Joceline in a smart tone; "what doyou here prowling about the apartments when the master is not at home?"

  But instead of the answer which perhaps she expected, Joceline Joliffecast a mournful glance towards the soldier in the oriel window, as if tomake what he said fully intelligible, and replied with a dejectedappearance and voice, "Alack, my pretty Phoebe, there come those herethat have more right or might than any of us, and will use littleceremony in coming when they will, and staying while they please."

  He darted another glance at Tomkins, who still seemed busy with the bookbefore him, then sidled close to the astonished girl, who had continuedlooking alternately at the keeper and at the stranger, as if she hadbeen unable to understand the words of the first, or to comprehend themeaning of the second being present.

  "Go," whispered Joliffe, approaching his mouth so near her cheek, thathis breath waved the curls of her hair; "go, my dearest Phoebe, trip itas fast as a fawn down to my lodge--I will soon be there, and"--

  "Your lodge, indeed" said Phoebe; "you are very bold, for a poorkill-buck that never frightened any thing before save a dun deer--_Your_lodge, indeed!--I am like to go there, I think." "Hush, hush! Phoebe--here is no time for jesting. Down to my hut, I say, like a deer, for theknight and Mrs. Alice are both there, and I fear will not return hitheragain.--All's naught, girl--and our evil days are come at last with avengeance--we are fairly at bay and fairly hunted down."

  "Can this be, Joceline?" said the poor girl, turning to the keeper withan expression of fright in her countenance, which she had hithertoaverted in rural coquetry.

  "As sure, my dearest Phoebe, as"--

  The rest of the asseveration was lost in Phoebe's ear, so closely didthe keeper's lips approach it; and if they approached so very near as totouch her cheek, grief, like impatience, hath its privileges, and poorPhoebe had enough of serious alarm to prevent her from demurring uponsuch a trifle.

  But no trifle was the approach of Joceline's lips to Phoebe's prettythough sunburnt cheek, in the estimation of the Independent, who, alittle before the object of Joceline's vigilance, had been more latelyin his turn the observer of the keeper's demeanour, so soon as theinterview betwixt Phoebe and him had become so interesting. And when heremarked the closeness of Joceline's argument, he raised his voice to apitch of harshness that would have
rivalled that of an ungreased andrusty saw, and which at once made Joceline and Phoebe spring six feetapart, each in contrary directions, and if Cupid was of the party, musthave sent him out at the window like it wild duck flying from aculverin. Instantly throwing himself into the attitude of a preacher anda reprover of vice, "How now!" he exclaimed, "shameless and impudent asyou are!--What--chambering and wantoning in our very presence!--How--would you play your pranks before the steward of the Commissioners ofthe High Court of Parliament, as ye would in a booth at the fulsomefair, or amidst the trappings and tracings of a profane dancing-school,where the scoundrel minstrels make their ungodly weapons to squeak,'Kiss and be kind, the fiddler's blind?'--But here," he said, dealing aperilous thump upon the volume--"Here is the King and high priest ofthose vices and follies!--Here is he, whom men of folly profanely callnature's miracle!--Here is he, whom princes chose for theircabinet-keeper, and whom maids of honour take for their bed-fellow!--Here is the prime teacher of fine words, foppery and folly--Here!"--(dealing another thump upon the volume--and oh! revered of theRoxburghe, it was the first folio--beloved of the Bannatyne, it wasHemmings and Condel--it was the _editio princeps_)--"On thee," hecontinued--"on thee, William Shakspeare, I charge whate'er of suchlawless idleness and immodest folly hath defiled the land since thyday!"

  "By the mass, a heavy accusation," said Joceline, the bold recklessnessof whose temper could not be long overawed; "Odds pitlikins, is ourmaster's old favourite, Will of Stratford, to answer for every buss thathas been snatched since James's time?--a perilous reckoning truly--but Iwonder who is sponsible for what lads and lasses did before his day?""Scoff not," said the soldier, "lest I, being called thereto by thevoice within me, do deal with thee as a scorner. Verily, I say, thatsince the devil fell from Heaven, he never lacked agents on earth; yetnowhere hath he met with a wizard having such infinite power over men'ssouls as this pestilent fellow Shakspeare. Seeks a wife a foul examplefor adultery, here she shall find it--Would a man know how to train hisfellow to be a murderer, here shall he find tutoring--Would a lady marrya heathen negro, she shall have chronicled example for it--Would any onescorn at his Maker, he shall be furnished with a jest in this book--Would he defy his brother in the flesh, he shall be accommodated with achallenge--Would you be drunk, Shakspeare will cheer you with a cup--Would you plunge in sensual pleasures, he will soothe you to indulgence,as with the lascivious sounds of a lute. This, I say, this book is thewell-head and source of all those evils which have overrun the land likea torrent, making men scoffers, doubters, deniers, murderers, makebates,and lovers of the wine-pot, haunting unclean places, and sitting long atthe evening-wine. Away with him, away with him, men of England! toTophet with his wicked book, and to the Vale of Hinnom with his accursedbones! Verily but that our march was hasty when we passed Stratford, inthe year 1643, with Sir William Waller; but that our march was hasty"--

  "Because Prince Rupert was after you with his cavaliers," muttered theincorrigible Joceline.

  "I say," continued the zealous trooper, raising his voice and extendinghis arm--"but that our march was by command hasty, and that we turnednot aside in our riding, closing our ranks each one upon the other asbecomes men of war, I had torn on that day the bones of that preceptorof vice and debauchery from the grave, and given them to the nextdunghill. I would have made his memory a scoff and a hissing!"

  "That is the bitterest thing he has said yet," observed the keeper."Poor Will would have liked the hissing worse than all the rest." "Willthe gentleman say any more?" enquired Phoebe in a whisper. "Lack-a-day,he talks brave words, if one knew but what they meant. But it is a mercyour good knight did not see him ruffle the book at that rate--Mercy onus, there would certainly have been bloodshed.--But oh, the father--seehow he is twisting his face about!--Is he ill of the colic, think'stthou, Joceline? Or, may I offer him a glass of strong waters?"

  "Hark thee hither, wench!" said the keeper, "he is but loading hisblunderbuss for another volley; and while he turns up his eyes, andtwists about his face, and clenches his fist, and shuffles and trampleswith his feet in that fashion, he is bound to take no notice of anything. I would be sworn to cut his purse, if he had one, from his side,without his feeling it."

  "La! Joceline," said Phoebe, "and if he abides here in this turn oftimes, I dare say the gentleman will be easily served."

  "Care not thou about that," said Joliffe; "but tell me softly andhastily, what is in the pantry?"

  "Small housekeeping enough," said Phoebe; "a cold capon and somecomfits, and the great standing venison pasty, with plenty of spice--amanchet or two besides, and that is all."

  "Well, it will serve for a pinch--wrap thy cloak round thy comelybody--get a basket and a brace of trenchers and towels, they areheinously impoverished down yonder--carry down the capon and themanchets--the pasty must abide with this same soldier and me, and thepie-crust will serve us for bread."

  "Rarely," said Phoebe; "I made the paste myself--it is as thick as thewalls of Fair Rosamond's Tower."

  "Which two pairs of jaws would be long in gnawing through, work hard asthey might," said the keeper. "But what liquor is there?"

  "Only a bottle of Alicant, and one of sack, with the stone jug of strongwaters," answered Phoebe.

  "Put the wine-flasks into thy basket," said Joceline, "the knight mustnot lack his evening draught--and down with thee to the hut like alapwing. There is enough for supper, and to-morrow is a new day.--Ha! byheaven I thought yonder man's eye watched us--No--he only rolled itround him in a brown study--Deep enough doubtless, as they all are.--Butd--n him, he must be bottomless if I cannot sound him before the night'sout.--Hie thee away, Phoebe."

  But Phoebe was a rural coquette, and, aware that Joceline's situationgave him no advantage of avenging the challenge in a fitting way, shewhispered in his ear, "Do you think our knight's friend, Shakspeare,really found out all these naughty devices the gentleman spoke of?"

  Off she darted while she spoke, while Joliffe menaced future vengeancewith his finger, as he muttered, "Go thy way, Phoebe Mayflower, thelightest-footed and lightest-hearted wench that ever tripped the sod inWoodstock-park!--After her, Bevis, and bring her safe to our master atthe hut."

  The large greyhound arose like a human servitor who had received anorder, and followed Phoebe through the hall, first licking her hand tomake her sensible of his presence, and then putting himself to a slowtrot, so as best to accommodate himself to the light pace of her whom heconvoyed, whom Joceline had not extolled for her activity without duereason. While Phoebe and her guardian thread the forest glades, wereturn to the Lodge.

  The Independent now seemed to start as if from a reverie. "Is the youngwoman gone?" said he.

  "Ay, marry is she," said the keeper; "and if your worship hath farthercommands, you must rest contented with male attendance."

  "Commands--umph--I think the damsel might have tarried for anotherexhortation," said the soldier--"truly, I profess my mind was muchinclined toward her for her edification."

  "Oh, sir," replied Joliffe, "she will be at church next Sunday, and ifyour military reverence is pleased again to hold forth amongst us, shewill have use of the doctrine with the rest. But young maidens of theseparts hear no private homilies.--And what is now your pleasure? Will youlook at the other rooms, and at the few plate articles which have beenleft?"

  "Umph--no," said the Independent--"it wears late, and gets dark--thouhast the means of giving us beds, friend?"

  "Better you never slept in," replied the keeper.

  "And wood for a fire, and a light, and some small pittance ofcreature-comforts for refreshment of the outward man?" continued thesoldier.

  "Without doubt," replied the keeper, displaying a prudent anxiety togratify this important personage.

  In a few minutes a great standing candlestick was placed on an oakentable. The mighty venison pasty, adorned with parsley, was placed on theboard on a clean napkin; the stone-bottle of strong waters, with ablackjack full of ale, formed comfortable appendages; a
nd to this mealsate down in social manner the soldier, occupying a great elbow-chair,and the keeper, at his invitation, using the more lowly accommodation ofa stool, at the opposite side of the table. Thus agreeably employed, ourhistory leaves them for the present.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE FOURTH.

  Yon path of greensward Winds round by sparry grot and gay pavilion; There is no flint to gall thy tender foot, There's ready shelter from each breeze, or shower.-- But duty guides not that way--see her stand, With wand entwined with amaranth, near yon cliffs. Oft where she leads thy blood must mark thy footsteps, Oft where she leads thy head must bear the storm. And thy shrunk form endure heat, cold, and hunger; But she will guide thee up to noble heights, Which he who gains seems native of the sky, While earthly things lie stretch'd beneath his feet, Diminish'd, shrunk, and valueless-- ANONYMOUS.

  The reader cannot have forgotten that after his scuffle with thecommonwealth soldier, Sir Henry Lee, with his daughter Alice, haddeparted to take refuge in the hut of the stout keeper Joceline Joliffe.They walked slow, as before, for the old knight was at once oppressed byperceiving these last vestiges of royalty fall into the hands ofrepublicans, and by the recollection of his recent defeat. At times hepaused, and, with his arms folded on his bosom, recalled all thecircumstances attending his expulsion from a house so long his home. Itseemed to him that, like the champions of romance of whom he hadsometimes read, he himself was retiring from the post which it was hisduty to guard, defeated by a Paynim knight, for whom the adventure hadbeen reserved by fate. Alice had her own painful subjects ofrecollection, nor had the tenor of her last conversation with her fatherbeen so pleasant as to make her anxious to renew it until his tempershould be more composed; for with an excellent disposition, and muchlove to his daughter, age and misfortunes, which of late came thickerand thicker, had given to the good knight's passions a waywardirritability unknown to his better days. His daughter, and one or twoattached servants, who still followed his decayed fortunes, soothed hisfrailty as much as possible, and pitied him even while they sufferedunder its effects.

  It was a long time ere he spoke, and then he referred to an incidentalready noticed. "It is strange," he said, "that Bevis should havefollowed Joceline and that fellow rather than me."

  "Assure yourself, sir," replied Alice, "that his sagacity saw in thisman a stranger, whom he thought himself obliged to watch circumspectly,and therefore he remained with Joceline."

  "Not so, Alice," answered Sir Henry; "he leaves me because my fortuneshave fled from me. There is a feeling in nature, affecting even theinstinct, as it is called, of dumb animals, which teaches them to flyfrom misfortune. The very deer there will butt a sick or wounded buckfrom the herd; hurt a dog, and the whole kennel will fall on him andworry him; fishes devour their own kind when they are wounded with aspear; cut a crow's wing, or break its leg, the others will buffet it todeath."

  "That may be true of the more irrational kinds of animals among eachother," said Alice, "for their whole life is well nigh a warfare; butthe dog leaves his own race to attach himself to ours; forsakes, for hismaster, the company, food, and pleasure of his own kind; and surely thefidelity of such a devoted and voluntary servant as Bevis hath been inparticular, ought not to be lightly suspected."

  "I am not angry with the dog, Alice; I am only sorry," replied herfather. "I have read, in faithful chronicles, that when Richard II. andHenry of Bolingbroke were at Berkeley Castle, a dog of the same kinddeserted the King, whom he had always attended upon, and attachedhimself to Henry, whom he then saw for the first time. Richard foretold,from the desertion of his favourite, his approaching deposition. The dogwas afterwards kept at Woodstock, and Bevis is said to be of his breed,which was heedfully kept up. What I might foretell of mischief from hisdesertion, I cannot guess, but my mind assures me it bodes no good."

  There was a distant rustling among the withered leaves, a bouncing orgalloping sound on the path, and the favourite dog instantly joined hismaster.

  "Come into court, old knave," said Alice, cheerfully, "and defend thycharacter, which is wellnigh endangered by this absence." But the dogonly paid her courtesy by gamboling around them, and instantly plungedback again, as fast as he could scamper.

  "How now, knave?" said the knight; "thou art too well trained, surely,to take up the chase without orders." A minute more showed them PhoebeMayflower approaching, her light pace so little impeded by the burdenwhich she bore, that she joined her master and young mistress just asthey arrived at the keeper's hut, which was the boundary of theirjourney. Bevis, who had shot a-head to pay his compliments to Sir Henryhis master, had returned again to his immediate duty, the escortingPhoebe and her cargo of provisions. The whole party stood presentlyassembled before the door of the keeper's hut.

  In better times, a substantial stone habitation, fit for theyeoman-keeper of a royal walk, had adorned this place. A fair springgushed out near the spot, and once traversed yards and courts, attachedto well-built and convenient kennels and mews. But in some of theskirmishes which were common during the civil wars, this little silvandwelling had been attacked and defended, stormed and burnt. Aneighbouring squire, of the Parliament side of the question, tookadvantage of Sir Henry Lee's absence, who was then in Charles's camp,and of the decay of the royal cause, and had, without scruple, carriedoff the hewn stones, and such building materials as the fire leftunconsumed, and repaired his own manor-house with them. Theyeoman-keeper, therefore, our friend Joceline, had constructed, for hisown accommodation, and that of the old woman he called his dame, awattled hut, such as his own labour, with that of a neighbour or two,had erected in the course of a few days. The walls were plastered withclay, white-washed, and covered with vines and other creeping plants;the roof was neatly thatched, and the whole, though merely a hut, had,by the neat-handed Joliffe, been so arranged as not to disgrace thecondition of the dweller.

  The knight advanced to the entrance; but the ingenuity of the architect,for want of a better lock to the door, which itself was but of wattlescuriously twisted, had contrived a mode of securing the latch on theinside with a pin, which prevented it from rising; and in this manner itwas at present fastened. Conceiving that this was some precaution ofJoliffe's old housekeeper, of whose deafness they were all aware, SirHenry raised his voice to demand admittance, but in vain. Irritated atthis delay, he pressed the door at once with foot and hand, in a waywhich the frail barrier was unable to resist; it gave way accordingly,and the knight thus forcibly entered the kitchen, or outward apartment,of his servant. In the midst of the floor, and with a posture whichindicated embarrassment, stood a youthful stranger, in a riding-suit.

  "This may be my last act of authority here," said the knight, seizingthe stranger by the collar, "but I am still Ranger of Woodstock for thisnight at least--Who, or what art thou?"

  The stranger dropped the riding-mantle in which his face was muffled,and at the same time fell on one knee.

  "Your poor kinsman, Markham Everard," he said, "who came hither for yoursake, although he fears you will scarce make him welcome for his own."

  Sir Henry started back, but recovered himself in an instant, as one whorecollected that he had a part of dignity to perform. He stood erect,therefore, and replied, with considerable assumption of statelyceremony:

  "Fair kinsman, it pleases me that you are come to Woodstock upon thevery first night that, for many years which have passed, is likely topromise you a worthy or a welcome reception."

  "Now God grant it be so, that I rightly hear and duly understand you,"said the young man; while Alice, though she was silent, kept her looksfixed on her father's face, as if desirous to know whether his meaningwas kind towards his nephew, which her knowledge of his characterinclined her greatly to doubt.

  The knight meanwhile darted a sardonic look, first on his nephew, thenon his daughter, and proceeded--"I need not, I presume, inform Mr.Markham Everard, that it cannot be our purpose
to entertain him, or evento offer him a seat in this poor hut."

  "I will attend you most willingly to the Lodge," said the younggentleman. "I had, indeed, judged you were already there for theevening, and feared to intrude upon you. But if you would permit me, mydearest uncle, to escort my kinswoman and you back to the Lodge, believeme, amongst all which you have so often done of good and kind, you neverconferred benefit that will be so dearly prized."

  "You mistake me greatly, Mr. Markham Everard," replied the knight. "Itis not our purpose to return to the Lodge to-night, nor, by Our Lady,to-morrow neither. I meant but to intimate to you in all courtesy, thatat Woodstock Lodge you will find those for whom you are fitting society,and who, doubtless, will afford you a willing welcome; which I, sir, inthis my present retreat, do not presume to offer to a person of yourconsequence."

  "For Heaven's sake," said the young man, turning to Alice, "tell me howI am to understand language so misterious."

  Alice, to prevent his increasing the restrained anger of her father,compelled herself to answer, though it was with difficulty, "We areexpelled from the Lodge by soldiers."

  "Expelled--by soldiers!" exclaimed Everard, in surprise--"there is nolegal warrant for this."

  "None at all," answered the knight, in the same tone of cutting ironywhich he had all along used, "and yet as lawful a warrant, as for aughtthat has been wrought in England this twelvemonth and more. You are, Ithink, or were, an Inns-of-Court-man--marry, sir, your enjoyment of yourprofession is like that lease which a prodigal wishes to have of awealthy widow. You have already survived the law which you studied, andits expiry doubtless has not been without a legacy--some decentpickings, some merciful increases, as the phrase goes. You have deservedit two ways--you wore buff and bandalier, as well as wielded pen andink--I have not heard if you held forth too."

  "Think of me and speak of me as harshly as you will, sir," said Everard,submissively. "I have but in this evil time, guided myself by myconscience, and my father's commands."

  "O, and you talk of conscience," said the old knight, "I must have mineeye upon you, as Hamlet says. Never yet did Puritan cheat so grossly aswhen he was appealing to his conscience; and as for thy _father_"--

  He was about to proceed in a tone of the same invective, when the youngman interrupted him, by saying, in a firm tone, "Sir Henry Lee, you haveever been thought noble--Say of me what you will, but speak not of myfather what the ear of a son should not endure, and which yet his armcannot resent. To do me such wrong is to insult an unarmed man, or tobeat a captive."

  Sir Henry paused, as if struck by the remark. "Thou hast spoken truth inthat, Mark, wert thou the blackest Puritan whom hell ever vomited, todistract an unhappy country."

  "Be that as you will to think it," replied Everard; "but let me notleave you to the shelter of this wretched hovel. The night is drawing tostorm--let me but conduct you to the Lodge, and expel those intruders,who can, as yet at least, have no warrant for what they do. I will notlinger a moment behind them, save just to deliver my father'smessage.--Grant me but this much, for the love you once bore me!"

  "Yes, Mark," answered his uncle, firmly, but sorrowfully, "thou speakesttruth--I did love thee once. The bright-haired boy whom I taught toride, to shoot, to hunt--whose hours of happiness were spent with me,wherever those of graver labours were employed--I did love that boy--ay,and I am weak enough to love even the memory of what he was.--But he isgone, Mark--he is gone; and in his room I only behold an avowed anddetermined rebel to his religion and to his king--a rebel moredetestable on account of his success, the more infamous through theplundered wealth with which he hopes to gild his villany.--But I ampoor, thou think'st, and should hold my peace, lest men say, 'Speak,sirrah, when you should.'--Know, however, that, indigent and plunderedas I am, I feel myself dishonoured in holding even but this much talkwith the tool of usurping rebels.--Go to the Lodge, if thou wilt--yonderlies the way--but think not that, to regain my dwelling there, or allthe wealth I ever possessed in my wealthiest days, I would accompanythee three steps on the greensward. If I must be thy companion, it shallbe only when thy red-coats have tied my hands behind me, and bound mylegs beneath my horse's belly. Thou mayst be my fellow traveller then, Igrant thee, if thou wilt, but not sooner."

  Alice, who suffered cruelly during this dialogue, and was well awarethat farther argument would only kindle the knight's resentment stillmore highly, ventured at last, in her anxiety, to make a sign to hercousin to break off the interview, and to retire, since her fathercommanded his absence in a manner so peremptory. Unhappily, she wasobserved by Sir Henry, who, concluding that what he saw was evidence ofa private understanding betwixt the cousins, his wrath acquired newfuel, and it required the utmost exertion of self-command, andrecollection of all that was due to his own dignity, to enable him toveil his real fury under the same ironical manner which he had adoptedat the beginning of this angry interview.

  "If thou art afraid," he said, "to trace our forest glades by night,respected stranger, to whom I am perhaps bound to do honour as mysuccessor in the charge of these walks, here seems to be a modestdamsel, who will be most willing to wait on thee, and be thybow-bearer.--Only, for her mother's sake, let there pass some slightform of marriage between you--Ye need no license or priest in thesehappy days, but may be buckled like beggars in a ditch, with a hedge fora church-roof, and a tinker for a priest. I crave pardon of you formaking such an officious and simple request--perhaps you are aranter--or one of the family of Love, or hold marriage rites asunnecessary, as Knipperdoling, or Jack of Leyden?"

  "For mercy's sake, forbear such dreadful jesting, my father! and do you,Markham, begone, in God's name, and leave us to our fate--your presencemakes my father rave."

  "Jesting!" said Sir Henry, "I was never more serious--Raving!--I wasnever more composed--I could never brook that falsehood should approachme--I would no more bear by my side a dishonoured daughter than adishonoured sword; and this unhappy day hath shown that both can fail."

  "Sir Henry," said young Everard, "load not your soul with a heavy crime,which be assured you do, in treating your daughter thus unjustly. It islong now since you denied her to me, when we were poor and you werepowerful. I acquiesced in your prohibition of all suit and intercourse.God knoweth what I suffered--but I acquiesced. Neither is it to renew mysuit that I now come hither, and have, I do acknowledge, sought speechof her--not for her own sake only, but for yours also. Destructionhovers over you, ready to close her pinions to stoop, and her talons toclutch--Yes, sir, look contemptuous as you will, such is the case; andit is to protect both you and her that I am here."

  "You refuse then my free gift," said Sir Henry Lee; "or perhaps youthink it loaded with too hard conditions?"

  "Shame, shame on you, Sir Henry;" said Everard, waxing warm in his turn;"have your political prejudices so utterly warped every feeling of afather, that you can speak with bitter mockery and scorn of whatconcerns your own daughter's honour?--Hold up your head, fair Alice, andtell your father he has forgotten nature in his fantastic spirit ofloyalty.--Know, Sir Henry, that though I would prefer your daughter'shand to every blessing which Heaven could bestow on me, I would notaccept it--my conscience would not permit me to do so, when I knew itmust withdraw her from her duty to you."

  "Your conscience is over-scrupulous, young man;--carry it to somedissenting rabbi, and he who takes all that comes to net, will teachthee it is sinning against our mercies to refuse any good thing that isfreely offered to us."

  "When it is freely offered, and kindly offered--not when the offer ismade in irony and insult--Fare thee well, Alice--if aught could make medesire to profit by thy father's wild wish to cast thee from him in amoment of unworthy suspicion, it would be that while indulging in suchsentiments, Sir Henry Lee is tyrannically oppressing the creature, whoof all others is most dependent on his kindness--who of all others willmost feel his severity, and whom, of all others, he is most bound tocherish and support."

  "Do not fear for me, Mr. Everard," excla
imed Alice, aroused from hertimidity by a dread of the consequences not unlikely to ensue, wherecivil war sets relations, as well as fellow-citizens, in opposition toeach other.--"Oh, begone, I conjure you, begone! Nothing stands betwixtme and my father's kindness, but these unhappy family divisions--butyour ill-timed presence here--for Heaven's sake, leave us!"

  "So, mistress!" answered the hot old cavalier, "you play lady paramountalready; and who but you!--you would dictate to our train, I warrant,like Goneril and Regan! But I tell thee, no man shall leave myhouse--and, humble as it is, _this_ is now my house--while he has aughtto say to me that is to be spoken, as this young man now speaks, with abent brow and a lofty tone.--Speak out, sir, and say your worst!"

  "Fear not my temper, Mrs. Alice," said Everard, with equal firmness andplacidity of manner; "and you, Sir Henry, do not think that if I speakfirmly, I mean therefore to speak in anger, or officiously. You havetaxed me with much, and, were I guided by the wild spirit of romanticchivalry, much which, even from so near a relative, I ought not, asbeing by birth, and in the world's estimation, a gentleman, to pass overwithout reply. Is it your pleasure to give me patient hearing?"

  "If you stand on your defence," answered the stout old knight, "Godforbid that you should not challenge a patient hearing--ay, though yourpleading were two parts disloyalty and one blasphemy--Only, be brief--this has already lasted but too long."

  "I will, Sir Henry," replied the young man; "yet it is hard to crowdinto a few sentences, the defence of a life which, though short, hasbeen a busy one--too busy, your indignant gesture would assert. But Ideny it; I have drawn my sword neither hastily, nor without dueconsideration, for a people whose rights have been trampled on, andwhose consciences have been oppressed--Frown not, sir--such is not yourview of the contest, but such is mine. For my religious principles, atwhich you have scoffed, believe me, that though they depend not on setforms, they are no less sincere than your own, and thus farpurer--excuse the word--that they are unmingled with the blood-thirstydictates of a barbarous age, which you and others have called the codeof chivalrous honour. Not my own natural disposition, but the betterdoctrine which my creed has taught, enables me to bear your harshrevilings without answering in a similar tone of wrath and reproach. Youmay carry insult to extremity against me at your pleasure--not onaccount of our relationship alone, but because I am bound in charity toendure it. This, Sir Henry, is much from one of our house. But, withforbearance far more than this requires, I can refuse at your hands thegift, which, most of all things under heaven, I should desire to obtain,because duty calls upon her to sustain and comfort you, and because itwere sin to permit you, in your blindness, to spurn your comforter fromyour side.--Farewell, sir--not in anger, but in pity--We may meet in abetter time, when your heart and your principles shall master theunhappy prejudices by which they are now overclouded.--Farewell--farewell, Alice!"

  The last words were repeated twice, and in a tone of feeling andpassionate grief, which differed utterly from the steady and almostsevere tone in which he had addressed Sir Henry Lee. He turned and leftthe hut so soon as he had uttered these last words; and, as if ashamedof the tenderness which had mingled with his accents, the youngcommonwealth's-man turned and walked sternly and resolvedly forth intothe moonlight, which now was spreading its broad light and autumnalshadows over the woodland.

  So soon as he departed, Alice, who had been during the whole scene inthe utmost terror that her father might have been hurried, by hisnatural heat of temper, from violence of language into violence ofaction, sunk down upon a settle twisted out of willow boughs, like mostof Joceline's few moveables, and endeavoured to conceal the tears whichaccompanied the thanks she rendered in broken accents to Heaven, that,notwithstanding the near alliance and relationship of the parties, somefatal deed had not closed an interview so perilous and so angry. PhoebeMayflower blubbered heartily for company, though she understood butlittle of what had passed; just, indeed, enough to enable her afterwardsto report to some half-dozen particular friends, that her old master,Sir Henry, had been perilous angry, and almost fought with young MasterEverard, because he had wellnigh carried away her young mistress.--"Andwhat could he have done better?" said Phoebe, "seeing the old man hadnothing left either for Mrs. Alice or himself; and as for Mr. MarkEverard and our young lady, oh! they had spoken such loving things toeach other as are not to be found in the history of Argalus andParthenia, who, as the story-book tells, were the truest pair of loversin all Arcadia, and Oxfordshire to boot."

  Old Goody Jellycot had popped her scarlet hood into the kitchen morethan once while the scene was proceeding; but, as the worthy dame wasparcel blind and more than parcel deaf, knowledge was excluded by twoprincipal entrances; and though she comprehended, by a sort of generalinstinct, that the gentlefolk were at high words, yet why they choseJoceline's hut for the scene of their dispute was as great a mystery asthe subject of the quarrel.

  But what was the state of the old cavalier's mood, thus contradicted, ashis most darling principles had been, by the last words of his departingnephew? The truth is, that he was less thoroughly moved than hisdaughter expected; and in all probability his nephew's bold defence ofhis religious and political opinions rather pacified than aggravated hisdispleasure. Although sufficiently impatient of contradiction, stillevasion and subterfuge were more alien to the blunt old Ranger's naturethan manly vindication and direct opposition; and he was wont to say,that he ever loved the buck best who stood boldest at bay. He graced hisnephew's departure, however, with a quotation from Shakspeare, whom, asmany others do, he was wont to quote from a sort of habit and respect,as a favourite of his unfortunate master, without having either muchreal taste for his works, or great skill in applying the passages whichhe retained on his memory.

  "Mark," he said, "mark this, Alice--the devil can quote Scripture forhis purpose. Why, this young fanatic cousin of thine, with no more beardthan I have seen on a clown playing Maid Marion on May-day, when thevillage barber had shaved him in too great a hurry, shall match anybearded Presbyterian or Independent of them all, in laying down hisdoctrines and his uses, and bethumping us with his texts and hishomilies. I would worthy and learned Doctor Rochecliffe had been here,with his battery ready-mounted from the Vulgate, and the Septuagint, andwhat not--he would have battered the presbyterian spirit out of him witha wanion. However, I am glad the young man is no sneaker; for, were aman of the devil's opinion in religion, and of Old Noll's in politics,he were better open on it full cry, than deceive you by hunting counter,or running a false scent. Come--wipe thine eyes--the fray is over, andnot like to be stirred again soon, I trust."

  Encouraged by these words, Alice rose, and, bewildered as she was,endeavoured to superintend the arrangements for their meal and theirrepose in their new habitation. But her tears fell so fast, they marredher counterfeited diligence; and it was well for her that Phoebe, thoughtoo ignorant and too simple to comprehend the extent of her distress,could afford her material assistance, in lack of mere sympathy.

  With great readiness and address, the damsel set about every thing thatwas requisite for preparing the supper and the beds; now screaming intoDame Jellycot's ear, now whispering into her mistress's, and artfullymanaging, as if she was merely the agent, under Alice's orders. When thecold viands were set forth, Sir Henry Lee kindly pressed his daughter totake refreshment, as if to make up, indirectly, for his previousharshness towards her; while he himself, like an experienced campaigner,showed, that neither the mortifications nor brawls of the day, nor thethoughts of what was to come to-morrow, could diminish his appetite forsupper, which was his favourite meal. He ate up two-thirds of the capon,and, devoting the first bumper to the happy restoration of Charles,second of the name, he finished a quart of wine; for he belonged to aschool accustomed to feed the flame of their loyalty with copiousbrimmers. He even sang a verse of "The King shall enjoy his own again,"in which Phoebe, half-sobbing, and Dame Jellycot, screaming against timeand tune, were contented to lend their aid, to cover Mistress Al
ice'ssilence.

  At length the jovial knight betook himself to his rest on the keeper'sstraw pallet, in a recess adjoining to the kitchen, and, unaffected byhis change of dwelling, slept fast and deep. Alice had less quiet restin old Goody Jellycot's wicker couch, in the inner apartment; while thedame and Phoebe slept on a mattress, stuffed with dry leaves, in thesame chamber, soundly as those whose daily toil gains their daily bread,and, whom morning calls up only to renew the toils of yesterday.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE FIFTH.

  My tongue pads slowly under this new language, And starts and stumbles at these uncouth phrases. They may be great in worth and weight, but hang Upon the native glibness of my language Like Saul's plate-armour on the shepherd boy, Encumbering and not arming him. J. B.

  As Markham Everard pursued his way towards the Lodge, through one of thelong sweeping glades which traversed the forest, varying in breadth,till the trees were now so close that the boughs made darkness over hishead, then receding farther to let in glimpses of the moon, and anonopening yet wider into little meadows, or savannahs, on which themoonbeams lay in silvery silence; as he thus proceeded on his lonelycourse, the various effects produced by that delicious light on theoaks, whose dark leaves, gnarled branches, and massive trunks it gilded,more or less partially, might have drawn the attention of a poet or apainter.

  But if Everard thought of anything saving the painful scene in which hehad just played his part, and of which the result seemed the destructionof all his hopes, it was of the necessary guard to be observed in hisnight-walk. The times were dangerous and unsettled; the roads full ofdisbanded soldiers, and especially of royalists, who made theirpolitical opinions a pretext for disturbing the country with maraudingparties and robberies. Deer-stealers also, who are ever a desperatebanditti, had of late infested Woodstock Chase. In short, the dangers ofthe place and period were such, that Markham Everard wore his loadedpistols at his belt, and carried his drawn sword under his arm, that hemight be prepared for whatever peril should cross his path.

  He heard the bells of Woodstock Church ring curfew, just as he wascrossing one of the little meadows we have described, and they ceased ashe entered an overshadowed and twilight part of the path beyond. It wasthere that he heard some one whistling; and, as the sound becameclearer, it was plain the person was advancing towards him. This couldhardly be a friend; for the party to which he belonged rejected,generally speaking, all music, unless psalmody. "If a man is merry, lethim sing psalms," was a text which they were pleased to interpret asliterally and to as little purpose as they did some others; yet it wastoo continued a sound to be a signal amongst night-walkers, and toolight and cheerful to argue any purpose of concealment on the part ofthe traveller, who presently exchanged his whistling for singing, andtrolled forth the following stanza to a jolly tune, with which the oldcavaliers were wont to wake the night owl:

  Hey for cavaliers! Ho for cavaliers! Pray for cavaliers! Rub a dub--rub a dub! Have at old Beelzebub-- Oliver smokes for fear.

  "I should know that voice," said Everard, uncocking the pistol which hehad drawn from his belt, but continuing to hold it in his hand. Thencame another fragment:

  Hash them--slash them-- All to pieces dash them.

  "So ho!" cried Markham, "who goes there, and for whom?"

  "For Church and King," answered a voice, which presently added, "No,d--n me--I mean _against_ Church and King, and for the people that areuppermost--I forget which they are."

  "Roger Wildrake, as I guess?" said Everard.

  "The same--Gentleman; of Squattlesea-mere, in the moist county ofLincoln."

  "Wildrake!" said Markham--"Wildgoose you should be called. You have beenmoistening your own throat to some purpose, and using it to gabble tunesvery suitable to the times, to be sure!"

  "Faith, the tune's a pretty tune enough, Mark, only out of fashion alittle--the more's the pity."

  "What could I expect," said Everard, "but to meet some ranting, drunkencavalier, as desperate and dangerous as night and sack usually makethem? What if I had rewarded your melody by a ball in the gullet?"

  "Why, there would have been a piper paid--that's all," said Wildrake."But wherefore come you this way now? I was about to seek you at thehut."

  "I have been obliged to leave it--I will tell you the cause hereafter,"replied Markham.

  "What! the old play-hunting cavalier was cross, or Chloe was unkind?"

  "Jest not, Wildrake--it is all over with me," said Everard.

  "The devil it is," exclaimed Wildrake, "and you take it thus quietly!--Zounds! let us back together--I'll plead your cause for you--I know howto tickle up an old knight and a pretty maiden--Let me alone for puttingyou _rectus in curia_, you canting rogue.--D--n me, Sir Henry Lee, saysI, your nephew is a piece of a Puritan--it won't deny--but I'll upholdhim a gentleman and a pretty fellow, for all that.--Madam, says I, youmay think your cousin looks like a psalm-singing weaver, in that barefelt, and with that rascally brown cloak; that band, which looks like ababy's clout, and those loose boots, which have a whole calf-skin ineach of them,--but let him wear on the one side of his head a castor,with a plume befitting his quality; give him a good Toledo by his side,with a broidered belt and an inlaid hilt, instead of the ton of ironcontained in that basket-hilted black Andrew Ferrara; put a few smartwords in his mouth--and, blood and wounds! madam, says I--"

  "Prithee, truce with this nonsense, Wildrake," said Everard, "and tellme if you are sober enough to hear a few words of sober reason?"

  "Pshaw! man, I did but crack a brace of quarts with yonder puritanic,roundheaded soldiers, up yonder at the town; and rat me but I passedmyself for the best man of the party; twanged my nose, and turned up myeyes, as I took my can--Pah! the very wine tasted of hypocrisy. I thinkthe rogue corporal smoked something at last--as for the common fellows,never stir, but _they_ asked me to say grace over another quart."

  "This is just what I wished to speak with you about, Wildrake," saidMarkham--"You hold me, I am sure, for your friend?"

  "True as steel.--Chums at College and at Lincoln's Inn--we have beenNisus and Euryalus, Theseus and Pirithous, Orestes and Pylades; and, tosum up the whole with a puritanic touch, David and Jonathan, all in onebreath. Not even politics, the wedge that rends families and friendshipsasunder, as iron rives oak, have been able to split us."

  "True," answered Markham: "and when you followed the King to Nottingham,and I enrolled under Essex, we swore, at our parting, that whicheverside was victorious, he of us who adhered to it, should protect his lessfortunate comrade."

  "Surely, man, surely; and have you not protected me accordingly? Did younot save me from hanging? and am I not indebted to you for the bread Ieat?"

  "I have but done that which, had the times been otherwise, you, my dearWildrake, would, I am sure, have done for me. But, as I said, that isjust what I wished to speak to you about. Why render the task ofprotecting you more difficult than it must necessarily be at any rate?Why thrust thyself into the company of soldiers, or such like, wherethou art sure to be warmed into betraying thyself? Why come hollowingand whooping out cavalier ditties, like a drunken trooper of PrinceRupert, or one of Wilmot's swaggering body-guards?"

  "Because I may have been both one and t'other in my day, for aught thatyou know," replied Wildrake. "But, oddsfish! is it necessary I shouldalways be reminding you, that our obligation of mutual protection, ourleague of offensive and defensive, as I may call it, was to be carriedinto effect without reference to the politics or religion of the partyprotected, or the least obligation on him to conform to those of hisfriend?"

  "True," said Everard; "but with this most necessary qualification, thatthe party should submit to such outward conformity to the times asshould make it more easy and safe for his friend to be of service tohim. Now, you are perpetually breaking forth, to the hazard of your ownsafety and my credit."

  "I tell you, Mark, and I would tell
your namesake the apostle, that youare hard on me. You have practised sobriety and hypocrisy from yourhanging sleeves till your Geneva cassock--from the cradle to thisday,--and it is a thing of nature to you; and you are surprised that arough, rattling, honest fellow, accustomed to speak truth all his life,and especially when he found it at the bottom of a flask, cannot be soperfect a prig as thyself--Zooks! there is no equality betwixt us--Atrained diver might as well, because he can retain his breath for tenminutes without inconvenience, upbraid a poor devil for being like toburst in twenty seconds, at the bottom of ten fathoms water--And, afterall, considering the guise is so new to me, I think I bear myselfindifferently well--try me!"

  "Are there any more news from Worcester fight?" asked Everard, in a toneso serious that it imposed on his companion, who replied in his genuinecharacter--

  "Worse!--d--n me, worse an hundred times than reported--totally broken.Noll hath certainly sold himself to the devil, and his lease will havean end one day--that is all our present comfort."

  "What! and would this be your answer to the first red-coat who asked thequestion?" said Everard. "Methinks you would find a speedy passport tothe next corps de garde."

  "Nay, nay," answered Wildrake, "I thought you asked me in your ownperson.--Lack-a-day! a great mercy--a glorifying mercy--a crowningmercy--a vouchsafing--an uplifting--I profess the malignants arescattered from Dan to Beersheba--smitten, hip and thigh, even until thegoing down of the sun!"

  "Hear you aught of Colonel Thornhaugh's wounds?"

  "He is dead," answered Wildrake, "that's one comfort--the roundheadedrascal!--Nay, hold! it was but a trip of the tongue--I meant, the sweetgodly youth."

  "And hear you aught of the young man, King of Scotland, as they callhim?" said Everard.

  "Nothing but that he is hunted like a partridge on the mountains. MayGod deliver him, and confound his enemies!--Zoons, Mark Everard, I canfool it no longer. Do you not remember, that at the Lincoln's-Inngambols--though you did not mingle much in them, I think--I used alwaysto play as well as any of them when it came to the action, but theycould never get me to rehearse conformably. It's the same at this day. Ihear your voice, and I answer to it in the true tone of my heart; butwhen I am in the company of your snuffling friends, you have seen me actmy part indifferent well."

  "But indifferent, indeed," replied Everard; "however, there is littlecall on you to do aught, save to be modest and silent. Speak little, andlay aside, if you can, your big oaths and swaggering looks--set your hateven on your brows."

  "Ay, that is the curse! I have been always noted for the jaunty mannerin which I wear my castor--Hard when a man's merits become his enemies!"

  "You must remember you are my clerk."

  "Secretary," answered Wildrake: "let it be secretary, if you love me."

  "It must be clerk, and nothing else--plain clerk--and remember to becivil and obedient," replied Everard.

  "But you should not lay on your commands with so much ostentatioussuperiority, Master Markham Everard. Remember, I am your senior of threeyears' standing. Confound me, if I know how to take it!"

  "Was ever such a fantastic wrong-head!--For my sake, if not for thineown, bend thy freakish folly to listen to reason. Think that I haveincurred both risk and shame on thy account."

  "Nay, thou art a right good fellow, Mark," replied the cavalier; "andfor thy sake I will do much--but remember to cough, and cry hem! whenthou seest me like to break bounds. And now, tell me whither we arebound for the night."

  "To Woodstock Lodge, to look after my uncle's property," answeredMarkham Everard: "I am informed that soldiers have taken possession--Yethow could that be if thou foundest the party drinking in Woodstock?"

  "There was a kind of commissary or steward, or some such rogue, had gonedown to the Lodge," replied Wildrake; "I had a peep at him."

  "Indeed!" replied Everard.

  "Ay, verily," said Wildrake, "to speak your own language. Why, as Ipassed through the park in quest of you, scarce half an hour since, Isaw a light in the Lodge--Step this way, you will see it yourself."

  "In the north-west angle?" returned Everard. "It is from a window inwhat they call Victor Lee's apartment."

  "Well," resumed Wildrake, "I had been long one of Lundsford's lads, andwell used to patrolling duty--So, rat me, says I, if I leave a light inmy rear, without knowing what it means. Besides, Mark, thou hadst saidso much to me of thy pretty cousin, I thought I might as well have apeep, if I could."

  "Thoughtless, incorrigible man! to what dangers do you expose yourselfand your friends, in mere wantonness!--But go on."

  "By this fair moonshine, I believe thou art jealous, Mark Everard!"replied his gay companion; "there is no occasion; for, in any case, I,who was to see the lady, was steeled by honour against the charms of myfriend's Chloe--Then the lady was not to see me, so could make nocomparisons to thy disadvantage, thou knowest--Lastly, as it fell out,neither of us saw the other at all."

  "Of that I am well aware. Mrs. Alice left the Lodge long before sunset,and never returned. What didst thou see to introduce with such preface?"

  "Nay, no great matter," replied Wildrake; "only getting upon a sort ofbuttress, (for I can climb like any cat that ever mewed in any gutter,)and holding on by the vines and creepers which grew around, I obtained astation where I could see into the inside of that same parlour thouspokest of just now."

  "And what saw'st thou there?" once more demanded Everard.

  "Nay, no great matter, as I said before," replied the cavalier; "for inthese times it is no new thing to see churls carousing in royal or noblechambers. I saw two rascallions engaged in emptying a solemn stoup ofstrong waters, and dispatching a huge venison pasty, which greasy mess,for their convenience, they had placed on a lady's work-table--One ofthem was trying an air on a lute."

  "The profane villains!" exclaimed Everard, "it was Alice's."

  "Well said, comrade--I am glad your phlegm can be moved. I did but throwin these incidents of the lute and the table, to try if it was possibleto get a spark of human spirit out of you, besanctified as you are."

  "What like were the men?" said young Everard.

  "The one a slouch-hatted, long-cloaked, sour-faced fanatic, like therest of you, whom I took to be the steward or commissary I heard spokenof in the town; the other was a short sturdy fellow, with a wood-knifeat his girdle, and a long quarterstaff lying beside him--a black-hairedknave, with white teeth and a merry countenance--one of theunder-rangers or bow-bearers of these walks, I fancy."

  "They must have been Desborough's favourite, trusty Tomkins," saidEverard, "and Joceline Joliffe, the keeper. Tomkins is Desborough'sright hand--an Independent, and hath pourings forth, as he calls them.Some think that his gifts have the better of his grace. I have heard ofhis abusing opportunities."

  "They were improving them when I saw them," replied Wildrake, "and madethe bottle smoke for it--when, as the devil would have it, a stone,which had been dislodged from the crumbling buttress, gave way under myweight. A clumsy fellow like thee would have been so long thinking whatwas to be done, that he must needs have followed it before he could makeup his mind; but I, Mark, I hopped like a squirrel to an ivy twig, andstood fast--was wellnigh shot, though, for the noise alarmed them both.They looked to the oriel, and saw me on the outside; the fanatic fellowtook out a pistol--as they have always such texts in readiness hangingbeside the little clasped Bible, thou know'st--the keeper seized hishunting-pole--I treated them both to a roar and a grin--thou must know Ican grimace like a baboon--I learned the trick from a French player, whocould twist his jaws into a pair of nut-crackers--and therewithal Idropped myself sweetly on the grass, and ran off so trippingly, keepingthe dark side of the wall as long as I could, that I am wellnighpersuaded they thought I was their kinsman, the devil, come among themuncalled. They were abominably startled."

  "Thou art most fearfully rash, Wildrake," said his companion; "we arenow bound for the house--what if they should remember thee?"

  "Why, it is no trea
son, is it? No one has paid for peeping since Tom ofCoventry's days; and if he came in for a reckoning, belike it was for abetter treat than mine. But trust me, they will no more know me, than aman who had only seen your friend Noll at a conventicle of saints, wouldknow the same Oliver on horseback, and charging with his lobster-tailedsquadron; or the same Noll cracking a jest and a bottle with wickedWaller the poet."

  "Hush! not a word of Oliver, as thou dost value thyself and me. It isill jesting with the rock you may split on.--But here is the gate--wewill disturb these honest gentlemen's recreations."

  As he spoke, he applied the large and ponderous knocker to thehall-door. "Rat-tat-tat-too!" said Wildrake; "there is a fine alarm toyou cuckolds and round-heads." He then half-mimicked, half-sung themarch so called:--

  "Cuckolds, come dig, cuckolds, come dig; Round about cuckolds, come dance to my jig!"

  "By Heaven! this passes Midsummer frenzy," said Everard, turning angrilyto him.

  "Not a bit, not a bit," replied Wildrake; "it is but a slightexpectoration, just like what one makes before beginning a long speech.I will be grave for an hour together, now I have got that point of warout of my head."

  As he spoke, steps were heard in the hall, and the wicket of the greatdoor was partly opened, but secured with a chain in case of accidents.The visage of Tomkins, and that of Joceline beneath it, appeared at thechink, illuminated by the lamp which the latter held in his hand, andTomkins demanded the meaning of this alarm.

  "I demand instant admittance!" said Everard. "Joliffe, you know mewell?"

  "I do, sir," replied Joceline, "and could admit you with all my heart;but, alas! sir, you see I am not key-keeper--Here is the gentleman whosewarrant I must walk by--The Lord help me, seeing times are such as theybe!"

  "And when that gentleman, who I think may be Master Desborough'svalet"--

  "His honour's unworthy secretary, an it please you," interposed Tomkins;while Wildrake whispered in Everard's ear; "I will be no longersecretary. Mark, thou wert quite right--the clerk must be the moregentlemanly calling."

  "And if you are Master Desborough's secretary, I presume you know me andmy condition well enough," said Everard, addressing the Independent,"not to hesitate to admit me and my attendant to a night's quarters inthe Lodge?"

  "Surely not, surely not," said the Independent--"that is, if yourworship thinks you would be better accommodated here than up at thehouse of entertainment in the town, which men unprofitably call SaintGeorge's Inn. There is but confined accommodation here, your honour--andwe have been frayed out of our lives already by the visitation ofSatan--albeit his fiery dart is now quenched."

  "This may be all well in its place, Sir Secretary," said Everard; "andyou may find a corner for it when you are next tempted to play thepreacher. But I will take it for no apology for keeping me here in thecold harvest wind; and if not presently received, and suitably too, Iwill report you to your master for insolence in your office."

  The secretary of Desborough did not dare offer farther opposition; forit is well known that Desborough himself only held his consequence as akinsman of Cromwell; and the Lord-General, who was well nigh paramountalready, was known to be strongly favourable both to the elder andyounger Everard. It is true, they were Presbyterians and he anIndependent; and that though sharing those feelings of correct moralityand more devoted religious feeling, by which, with few exceptions, theParliamentarian party were distinguished, the Everards were not disposedto carry these attributes to the extreme of enthusiasm, practised by somany others at the time. Yet it was well known that whatever might beCromwell's own religious creed, he was not uniformly bounded by it inthe choice of his favourites, but extended his countenance to those whocould serve him, even, although, according to the phrase of the time,they came out of the darkness of Egypt. The character of the elderEverard stood very high for wisdom and sagacity; besides, being of agood family and competent fortune, his adherence would lend a dignity toany side he might espouse. Then his son had been a distinguished andsuccessful soldier, remarkable for the discipline he maintained amonghis men, the bravery which he showed in the time of action, and thehumanity with which he was always ready to qualify the consequences ofvictory. Such men were not to be neglected, when many signs combined toshow that the parties in the state, who had successfully accomplishedthe deposition and death of the King, were speedily to quarrel amongthemselves about the division of the spoils. The two Everards weretherefore much courted by Cromwell, and their influence with him wassupposed to be so great, that trusty Master Secretary Tomkins cared notto expose himself to risk, by contending with Colonel Everard for such atrifle as a night's lodging.

  Joceline was active on his side--more lights were obtained--more woodthrown on the fire--and the two newly-arrived strangers were introducedinto Victor Lee's parlour, as it was called, from the picture over thechimney-piece, which we have already described. It was several minutesere Colonel Everard could recover his general stoicism of deportment, sostrongly was he impressed by finding himself in the apartment, underwhose roof he had passed so many of the happiest hours of his life.There was the cabinet, which he had seen opened with such feelings ofdelight when Sir Henry Lee deigned to give him instructions in fishing,and to exhibit hooks and lines, together with all the materials formaking the artificial fly, then little known. There hung the ancientfamily picture, which, from some odd mysterious expressions of his unclerelating to it, had become to his boyhood, nay, his early youth, asubject of curiosity and of fear. He remembered how, when left alone inthe apartment, the searching eye of the old warrior seemed always bentupon his, in whatever part of the room he placed himself, and how hischildish imagination was perturbed at a phenomenon, for which he couldnot account.

  With these came a thousand dearer and warmer recollections of his earlyattachment to his pretty cousin Alice, when he assisted her at herlessons, brought water for her flowers, or accompanied her while shesung; and he remembered that while her father looked at them with agood-humoured and careless smile, he had once heard him mutter, "And ifit should turn out so--why, it might be best for both," and the theoriesof happiness he had reared on these words. All these visions had beendispelled by the trumpet of war, which called Sir Henry Lee and himselfto opposite sides; and the transactions of this very day had shown, thateven Everard's success as a soldier and a statesman seemed absolutely toprohibit the chance of their being revived.

  He was waked out of this unpleasing reverie by the approach of Joceline,who, being possibly a seasoned toper, had made the additionalarrangements with more expedition and accuracy, than could have beenexpected from a person engaged as he had been since night-fall.

  He now wished to know the Colonel's directions for the night.

  "Would he eat anything?"

  "No."

  "Did his honour choose to accept Sir Henry Lee's bed, which was readyprepared?"

  "Yes."

  "That of Mistress Alice Lee should be prepared for the Secretary."

  "On pain of thine ears--No," replied Everard.

  "Where then was the worthy Secretary to be quartered?"

  "In the dog-kennel, if you list," replied Colonel Everard; "but," addedhe, stepping to the sleeping apartment of Alice, which opened from theparlour, locking it, and taking out the key, "no one shall profane thischamber."

  "Had his honour any other commands for the night?"

  "None, save to clear the apartment of yonder man. My clerk will remainwith me--I have orders which must be written out.--Yet stay--Thou gavestmy letter this morning to Mistress Alice?"

  "I did."

  "Tell me, good Joceline, what she said when she received it?"

  "She seemed much concerned, sir; and indeed I think that she wept alittle--but indeed she seemed very much distressed."

  "And what message did she send to me?"

  "None, may it please your honour--She began to say, 'Tell my cousinEverard that I will communicate my uncle's kind purpose to my father, ifI can get fitting opportunity
--but that I greatly fear'--and therechecked herself, as it were, and said, 'I will write to my cousin; andas it may be late ere I have an opportunity of speaking with my father,do thou come for my answer after service.'--So I went to church myself,to while away the time; but when I returned to the Chase, I found thisman had summoned my master to surrender, and, right or wrong, I must puthim in possession of the Lodge. I would fain have given your honour ahint that the old knight and my young mistress were like to take you onthe form, but I could not mend the matter."

  "Thou hast done well, good fellow, and I will remember thee.--And now,my masters," he said, advancing to the brace of clerks or secretaries,who had in the meanwhile sate quietly down beside the stone bottle, andmade up acquaintance over a glass of its contents--"Let me remind you,that the night wears late."

  "There is something cries tinkle, tinkle, in the bottle yet," saidWildrake, in reply.

  "Hem! hem! hem!" coughed the Colonel of the Parliament service; and ifhis lips did not curse his companion's imprudence, I will not answer forwhat arose in his heart,--"Well!" he said, observing that Wildrake hadfilled his own glass and Tomkins's, "take that parting glass andbegone."

  "Would you not be pleased to hear first," said Wildrake, "how thishonest gentleman saw the devil to-night look through a pane of yonderwindow, and how he thinks he had a mighty strong resemblance to yourworship's humble slave and varlet scribbler? Would you but hear this,sir, and just sip a glass of this very recommendable strong waters?"

  "I will drink none, sir," said Colonel Everard sternly; "and I have totell _you_, that you have drunken a glass too much already.--Mr.Tomkins, sir, I wish you good night."

  "A word in season at parting," said Tomkins, standing up behind the longleathern back of a chair, hemming and snuffling as if preparing for anexhortation.

  "Excuse me, sir," replied Markham Everard sternly; "you are not nowsufficiently yourself to guide the devotion of others."

  "Woe be to them that reject!" said the Secretary of the Commissioners,stalking out of the room--the rest was lost in shutting the door, orsuppressed for fear of offence.

  "And now, fool Wildrake, begone to thy bed--yonder it lies," pointing tothe knight's apartment.

  "What, thou hast secured the lady's for thyself? I saw thee put the keyin thy pocket."

  "I would not--indeed I could not sleep in that apartment--I can sleepnowhere--but I will watch in this arm-chair.--I have made him place woodfor repairing the fire.--Good now, go to bed thyself, and sleep off thyliquor."

  "Liquor!--I laugh thee to scorn, Mark--thou art a milksop, and the sonof a milksop, and know'st not what a good fellow can do in the way ofcrushing an honest cup."

  "The whole vices of his faction are in this poor fellow individually,"said the Colonel to himself, eyeing his protege askance, as the otherretreated into the bedroom, with no very steady pace--"He is reckless,intemperate, dissolute;--and if I cannot get him safely shipped forFrance, he will certainly be both his own ruin and mine.--Yet, withal,he is kind, brave, and generous, and would have kept the faith with mewhich he now expects from me; and in what consists the merit of ourtruth, if we observe not our plighted word when we have promised, to ourhurt? I will take the liberty, however, to secure myself against fartherinterruption on his part."

  So saying, he locked the door of communication betwixt thesleeping-room, to which the cavalier had retreated, and the parlour;--and then, after pacing the floor thoughtfully, returned to his seat,trimmed the lamp, and drew out a number of letters.--"I will read theseover once more," he said, "that, if possible, the thought of publicaffairs may expel this keen sense of personal sorrow. GraciousProvidence, where is this to end! We have sacrificed the peace of ourfamilies, the warmest wishes of our young hearts, to right the countryin which we were born, and to free her from oppression; yet it appears,that every step we have made towards liberty, has but brought us in viewof new and more terrific perils, as he who travels in a mountainousregion, is by every step which elevates him higher, placed in asituation of more imminent hazard."

  He read long and attentively, various tedious and embarrassed letters,in which the writers, placing before him the glory of God, and thefreedom and liberties of England, as their supreme ends, could not, byall the ambagitory expressions they made use of, prevent the shrewd eyeof Markham Everard from seeing, that self-interest and views ofambition, were the principal moving springs at the bottom of theirplots.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE SIXTH.

  Sleep steals on us even like his brother Death-- We know not when it comes--we know it must come-- We may affect to scorn and to contemn it, For 'tis the highest pride of human misery To say it knows not of an opiate; Yet the reft parent, the despairing lover, Even the poor wretch who waits for execution, Feels this oblivion, against which he thought His woes had arm'd his senses, steal upon him, And through the fenceless citadel--the body-- Surprise that haughty garrison--the mind. HERBERT.

  Colonel Everard experienced the truth contained in the verses of thequaint old bard whom we have quoted above. Amid private grief, andanxiety for a country long a prey to civil war, and not likely to fallsoon under any fixed or well-established form of government, Everard andhis father had, like many others, turned their eyes to General Cromwell,as the person whose valour had made him the darling of the army, whosestrong sagacity had hitherto predominated over the high talents by whichhe had been assailed in Parliament, as well as over his enemies in thefield, and who was alone in the situation to _settle the nation_, as thephrase then went; or, in other words, to dictate the mode of government.The father and son were both reputed to stand high in the General'sfavour. But Markham Everard was conscious of some particulars, whichinduced him to doubt whether Cromwell actually, and at heart, boreeither to his father or to himself that good-will which was generallybelieved. He knew him for a profound politician, who could veil for anylength of time his real sentiments of men and things, until they couldbe displayed without prejudice to his interest. And he moreover knewthat the General was not likely to forget the opposition which thePresbyterian party had offered to what Oliver called the GreatMatter--the trial, namely, and execution of the King. In thisopposition, his father and he had anxiously concurred, nor had thearguments, nor even the half-expressed threats of Cromwell, induced themto flinch from that course, far less to permit their names to beintroduced into the commission nominated to sit in judgment on thatmemorable occasion.

  This hesitation had occasioned some temporary coldness between theGeneral and the Everards, father and son. But as the latter remained inthe army, and bore arms under Cromwell both in Scotland, and finally atWorcester, his services very frequently called forth the approbation ofhis commander. After the fight of Worcester, in particular, he was amongthe number of those officers on whom Oliver, rather considering theactual and practical extent of his own power, than the name under whichhe exercised it, was with difficulty withheld from imposing the dignityof Knights-Bannerets at his own will and pleasure. It therefore seemed,that all recollection of former disagreement was obliterated, and thatthe Everards had regained their former stronghold in the General'saffections. There were, indeed, several who doubted this, and whoendeavoured to bring over this distinguished young officer to some otherof the parties which divided the infant Commonwealth. But to theseproposals he turned a deaf ear. Enough of blood, he said, had beenspilled--it was time that the nation should have repose under afirmly-established government, of strength sufficient to protectproperty, and of lenity enough to encourage the return of tranquillity.This, he thought, could only be accomplished by means of Cromwell, andthe greater part of England was of the same opinion. It is true, that,in thus submitting to the domination of a successful soldier, those whodid so, forgot the principles upon which they had drawn the swordagainst the late King. But in revolutions, stern and high principles areoften obliged to give way to the current of existing circumstances; an
din many a case, where wars have been waged for points of metaphysicalright, they have been at last gladly terminated, upon the mere hope ofobtaining general tranquillity, as, after many a long siege, a garrisonis often glad to submit on mere security for life and limb.

  Colonel Everard, therefore, felt that the support which he affordedCromwell, was only under the idea, that, amid a choice of evils, theleast was likely to ensue from a man of the General's wisdom and valourbeing placed at the head of the state; and he was sensible, that Oliverhimself was likely to consider his attachment as lukewarm and imperfect,and measure his gratitude for it upon the same limited scale.

  In the meanwhile, however, circumstances compelled him to make trial ofthe General's friendship. The sequestration of Woodstock, and thewarrant to the Commissioners to dispose of it as national property, hadbeen long granted, but the interest of the elder Everard had for weeksand months deferred its execution. The hour was now approaching when theblow could be no longer parried, especially as Sir Henry Lee, on hisside, resisted every proposal of submitting himself to the existinggovernment, and was therefore, now that his hour of grace was passed,enrolled in the list of stubborn and irreclaimable malignants, with whomthe Council of State was determined no longer to keep terms. The onlymode of protecting the old knight and his daughter, was to interest, ifpossible, the General himself in the matter; and revolving all thecircumstances connected with their intercourse, Colonel Everard feltthat a request, which would so immediately interfere with the interestsof Desborough, the brother-in-law of Cromwell, and one of the presentCommissioners, was putting to a very severe trial the friendship of thelatter. Yet no alternative remained.

  With this view, and agreeably to a request from Cromwell, who at partinghad been very urgent to have his written opinion upon public affairs,Colonel Everard passed the earlier part of the night in arranging hisideas upon the state of the Commonwealth, in a plan which he thoughtlikely to be acceptable to Cromwell, as it exhorted him, under the aidof Providence, to become the saviour of the state, by convoking a freeParliament, and by their aid placing himself at the head of some form ofliberal and established government, which might supersede the state ofanarchy, in which the nation was otherwise likely to be merged. Taking ageneral view of the totally broken condition of the Royalists, and ofthe various factions which now convulsed the state, he showed how thismight be done without bloodshed or violence. From this topic hedescended to the propriety of keeping up the becoming state of theExecutive Government, in whose hands soever it should be lodged, andthus showed Cromwell, as the future Stadtholder, or Consul, orLieutenant-General of Great Britain and Ireland, a prospect of demesneand residence becoming his dignity. Then he naturally passed to thedisparking and destroying of the royal residences of England, made awoful picture of the demolition which impended over Woodstock, andinterceded for the preservation of that beautiful seat, as a matter ofpersonal favour, in which he found himself deeply interested.

  Colonel Everard, when he had finished his letter, did not find himselfgreatly risen in his own opinion. In the course of his politicalconduct, he had till this hour avoided mixing up personal motives withhis public grounds of action, and yet he now felt himself making such acomposition. But he comforted himself, or at least silenced thisunpleasing recollection, with the consideration, that the weal ofBritain, studied under the aspect of the times, absolutely required thatCromwell should be at the head of the government; and that the interestof Sir Henry Lee, or rather his safety and his existence, no lessemphatically demanded the preservation of Woodstock, and his residencethere. Was it a fault of his, that the same road should lead to boththese ends, or that his private interest, and that of the country,should happen to mix in the same letter? He hardened himself, therefore,to the act, made up and addressed his packet to the Lord-General, andthen sealed it with his seal of arms. This done, he lay back in thechair; and, in spite of his expectations to the contrary, fell asleep inthe course of his reflections, anxious and harassing as they were, anddid not awaken until the cold grey light of dawn was peeping through theeastern oriel.

  He started at first, rousing himself with the sensation of one whoawakes in a place unknown to him; but the localities instantly forcedthemselves on his recollection. The lamp burning dimly in the socket,the wood fire almost extinguished in its own white embers, the gloomypicture over the chimney-piece, the sealed packet on the table--allreminded him of the events of yesterday, and his deliberations of thesucceeding night. "There is no help for it," he said; "it must beCromwell or anarchy. And probably the sense that his title, as head ofthe Executive Government, is derived merely from popular consent, maycheck the too natural proneness of power to render itself arbitrary. Ifhe govern by Parliaments, and with regard to the privileges of thesubject, wherefore not Oliver as well as Charles? But I must takemeasures for having this conveyed safely to the hands of this futuresovereign prince. It will be well to take the first word of influencewith him, since there must be many who will not hesitate to recommendcounsels more violent and precipitate."

  He determined to intrust the important packet to the charge of Wildrake,whose rashness was never so distinguished, as when by any chance he wasleft idle and unemployed; besides, even if his faith had not beenotherwise unimpeachable, the obligations which he owed to his friendEverard must have rendered it such.

  These conclusions passed through Colonel Everard's mind, as, collectingthe remains of wood in the chimney, he gathered them into a heartyblaze, to remove the uncomfortable feeling of dullness which pervadedhis limbs; and by the time he was a little more warm, again sunk into aslumber, which was only dispelled by the beams of morning peeping intohis apartment.

  He arose, roused himself, walked up and down the room, and looked fromthe large oriel window on the nearest objects, which were the untrimmedhedges and neglected walks of a certain wilderness, as it is called inancient treatises on gardening, which, kept of yore well ordered, and inall the pride of the topiary art, presented a succession of yew-treescut into fantastic forms, of close alleys, and of open walks, fillingabout two or three acres of ground on that side of the Lodge, andforming a boundary between its immediate precincts and the open Park.Its enclosure was now broken down in many places, and the hinds withtheir fawns fed free and unstartled up to the very windows of the silvanpalace.

  This had been a favourite scene of Markham's sports when a boy. He couldstill distinguish, though now grown out of shape, the verdantbattlements of a Gothic castle, all created by the gardener's shears, atwhich he was accustomed to shoot his arrows; or, stalking before it likethe Knight-errants of whom he read, was wont to blow his horn, and biddefiance to the supposed giant or Paynim knight, by whom it wasgarrisoned. He remembered how he used to train his cousin, thoughseveral years younger than himself, to bear a part in those revels ofhis boyish fancy, and to play the character of an elfin page, or afairy, or an enchanted princess. He remembered, too, many particulars oftheir later acquaintance, from which he had been almost necessarily ledto the conclusion, that from an early period their parents hadentertained some idea, that there might be a well-fitted match betwixthis fair cousin and himself. A thousand visions, formed in so bright aprospect, had vanished along with it, but now returned like shadows, toremind him of all he had lost--and for what?--"For the sake of England,"his proud consciousness replied,--"Of England, in danger of becoming theprey at once of bigotry and tyranny." And he strengthened himself withthe recollection, "If I have sacrificed my private happiness, it is thatmy country may enjoy liberty of conscience, and personal freedom; which,under a weak prince and usurping statesman, she was but too likely tohave lost."

  But the busy fiend in his breast would not be repulsed by the boldanswer. "Has thy resistance," it demanded, "availed thy country, MarkhamEverard? Lies not England, after so much bloodshed, and so much misery,as low beneath the sword of a fortunate soldier, as formerly under thesceptre of an encroaching prince? Are Parliament, or what remains ofthem, fitted to contend with a leader, master
of his soldiers' hearts,as bold and subtle as he is impenetrable in his designs! This General,who holds the army, and by that the fate of the nation in his hand, willhe lay down his power because philosophy would pronounce it his duty tobecome a subject?"

  He dared not answer that his knowledge of Cromwell authorised him toexpect any such act of self-denial. Yet still he considered that intimes of such infinite difficulty, that must be the best government,however little desirable in itself, which should most speedily restorepeace to the land, and stop the wounds which the contending parties weredaily inflicting on each other. He imagined that Cromwell was the onlyauthority under which a steady government could be formed, and thereforehad attached himself to his fortune, though not without considerable andrecurring doubts, how far serving the views of this impenetrable andmysterious General was consistent with the principles under which he hadassumed arms.

  While these things passed in his mind, Everard looked upon the packetwhich lay on the table addressed to the Lord-General, and which he hadmade up before sleep. He hesitated several times, when he remembered itspurport, and in what degree he must stand committed with that personage,and bound to support his plans of aggrandizement, when once thatcommunication was in Oliver Cromwell's possession.

  "Yet it must be so," he said at last, with a deep sigh. "Among thecontending parties, he is the strongest--the wisest and most moderate--and ambitious though he be, perhaps not the most dangerous. Some onemust be trusted with power to preserve and enforce general order, andwho can possess or wield such power like him that is head of thevictorious armies of England? Come what will in future, peace and therestoration of law ought to be our first and most pressing object. Thisremnant of a parliament cannot keep their ground against the army, bymere appeal to the sanction of opinion. If they design to reduce thesoldiery, it must be by actual warfare, and the land has been too longsteeped in blood. But Cromwell may, and I trust will, make a moderateaccommodation with them, on grounds by which peace may be preserved; andit is to this which we must look and trust for a settlement of thekingdom, alas! and for the chance of protecting my obstinate kinsmanfrom the consequences of his honest though absurd pertinacity."

  Silencing some internal feelings of doubt and reluctance by suchreasoning as this, Markham Everard continued in his resolution to unitehimself with Cromwell in the struggle which was evidently approachingbetwixt the civil and military authorities; not as the course which, ifat perfect liberty, he would have preferred adopting, but as the bestchoice between two dangerous extremities to which the times had reducedhim. He could not help trembling, however, when he recollected that hisfather, though hitherto the admirer of Cromwell, as the implement bywhom so many marvels had been wrought in England, might not be disposedto unite with his interest against that of the Long Parliament, of whichhe had been, till partly laid aside by continued indisposition, anactive and leading member. This doubt also he was obliged to swallow orstrangle, as he might; but consoled himself with the ready argument,that it was impossible his father could see matters in another lightthan that in which they occurred to himself.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE SEVENTH.

  Determined at length to dispatch his packet to the General withoutdelay, Colonel Everard approached the door of the apartment, in which,as was evident from the heavy breathing within, the prisoner Wildrakeenjoyed a deep slumber, under the influence of liquor at once and offatigue. In turning the key, the bolt, which was rather rusty, made aresistance so noisy, as partly to attract the sleeper's attention,though not to awake him. Everard stood by his bedside, as he heard himmutter, "Is it morning already, jailor?--Why, you dog, an you had but acast of humanity in you, you would qualify your vile news with a cup ofsack;--hanging is sorry work, my masters--and sorrow's dry."

  "Up, Wildrake--up, thou ill-omened dreamer," said his friend, shakinghim by the collar.

  "Hands off!" answered the sleeper.--"I can climb a ladder without help,I trow."--He then sate up in the bed, and opening his eyes, staredaround him, and exclaimed, "Zounds! Mark, is it only thou? I thought itwas all over with me--fetters were struck from my legs--rope drawn roundmy gullet--irons knocked off my hands--hempen cravat tucked on,--allready for a dance in the open element upon slight footing."

  "Truce with thy folly, Wildrake; sure the devil of drink, to whom thouhast, I think, sold thyself"--

  "For a hogshead of sack," interrupted Wildrake; "the bargain was made ina cellar in the Vintry."

  "I am as mad as thou art, to trust any thing to thee," said Markham; "Iscarce believe thou hast thy senses yet."

  "What should ail me?" said Wildrake--"I trust I have not tasted liquorin my sleep, saving that I dreamed of drinking small-beer with Old Noll,of his own brewing. But do not look so glum, man--I am the same RogerWildrake that I ever was; as wild as a mallard, but as true as agame-cock. I am thine own chum, man--bound to thee by thy kind deeds--_devinctus beneficio_--there is Latin for it; and where is the thingthou wilt charge me with, that I wilt not, or dare not execute, were itto pick the devil's teeth with my rapier, after he had breakfasted uponround-heads?"

  "You will drive me mad," said Everard.--"When I am about to intrust allI have most valuable on earth to your management, your conduct andlanguage are those of a mere Bedlamite. Last night I made allowance forthy drunken fury; but who can endure thy morning madness?--it is unsafefor thyself and me, Wildrake--it is unkind--I might say ungrateful."

  "Nay, do not say _that_, my friend," said the cavalier, with some showof feeling; "and do not judge of me with a severity that cannot apply tosuch as I am. We who have lost our all in these sad jars, who arecompelled to shift for our living, not from day to day, but from meal tomeal--we whose only hiding place is the jail, whose prospect of finalrepose is the gallows,--what canst thou expect from us, but to bear sucha lot with a light heart, since we should break down under it with aheavy one?"

  This was spoken in a tone of feeling which found a responding string inEverard's bosom. He took his friend's hand, and pressed it kindly.

  "Nay, if I seemed harsh to thee, Wildrake, I profess it was for thineown sake more than mine. I know thou hast at the bottom of thy levity,as deep a principle of honour and feeling as ever governed a humanheart. But thou art thoughtless--thou art rash--and I protest to thee,that wert thou to betray thyself in this matter, in which I trust thee,the evil consequences to myself would not afflict me more than thethought of putting thee into such danger."

  "Nay, if you take it on that tone, Mark," said the cavalier, making aneffort to laugh, evidently that he might conceal a tendency to adifferent emotion, "thou wilt make children of us both--babes andsucklings, by the hilt of this bilbo.--Come, trust me; I can be cautiouswhen time requires it--no man ever saw me drink when an alert wasexpected--and not one poor pint of wine will I taste until I havemanaged this matter for thee. Well, I am thy secretary--clerk--I hadforgot--and carry thy dispatches to Cromwell, taking good heed not to besurprised or choused out of my lump of loyalty, (striking his finger onthe packet,) and I am to deliver it to the most loyal hands to which itis most humbly addressed--Adzooks, Mark, think of it a moment longer--Surely thou wilt not carry thy perverseness so far as to strike in withthis bloody-minded rebel?--Bid me give him three inches of mydudgeon-dagger, and I will do it much more willingly than present himwith thy packet."

  "Go to," replied Everard, "this is beyond our bargain. If you will helpme it is well; if not, let me lose no time in debating with thee, sinceI think every moment an age till the packet is in the General'spossession. It is the only way left me to obtain some protection, and aplace of refuge for my uncle and his daughter."

  "That being the case," said the cavalier, "I will not spare the spur. Mynag up yonder at the town will be ready for the road in a trice, andthou mayst reckon on my being with Old Noll--thy General, I mean--in asshort time as man and horse may consume betwixt Woodstock and Windsor,where I think I shall for the present find thy friend keeping possessionwher
e he has slain."

  "Hush, not a word of that. Since we parted last night, I have shapedthee a path which will suit thee better than to assume the decency oflanguage and of outward manner, of which thou hast so little. I haveacquainted the General that thou hast been by bad example and badeducation"--

  "Which is to be interpreted by contraries, I hope," said Wildrake; "forsure I have been as well born and bred up as any lad of Leicestershiremight desire."

  "Now, I prithee, hush--thou hast, I say, by bad example become at onetime a malignant, and mixed in the party of the late King. But seeingwhat things were wrought in the nation by the General, thou hast come toa clearness touching his calling to be a great implement in thesettlement of these distracted kingdoms. This account of thee will notonly lead him to pass over some of thy eccentricities, should they breakout in spite of thee, but will also give thee an interest with him asbeing more especially attached to his own person."

  "Doubtless," said Wildrake, "as every fisher loves best the trouts thatare of his own tickling."

  "It is likely, I think, he will send thee hither with letters to me,"said the Colonel, "enabling me to put a stop to the proceedings of thesesequestrators, and to give poor old Sir Henry Lee permission to lingerout his days among the oaks he loves to look upon. I have made this myrequest to General Cromwell, and I think my father's friendship and myown may stretch so far on his regard without risk of cracking,especially standing matters as they now do--thou dost understand?"

  "Entirely well," said the cavalier; "stretch, quotha!--I would ratherstretch a rope than hold commerce with the old King-killing ruffian. ButI have said I will be guided by thee, Markham, and rat me but I will."

  "Be cautious, then," said Everard, "mark well what he does andsays--more especially what he does; for Oliver is one of those whosemind is better known by his actions than by his words; and stay--Iwarrant thee thou wert setting off without a cross in thy purse?"

  "Too true, Mark," said Wildrake; "the last noble melted last night amongyonder blackguard troopers of yours."

  "Well, Roger," replied the Colonel, "that is easily mended." So saying,he slipped his purse into his friend's hand. "But art thou not aninconsiderate weather-brained fellow, to set forth as thou wert about todo, without any thing to bear thy charges; what couldst thou have done?"

  "Faith, I never thought of that; I must have cried _Stand_, I suppose,to the first pursy townsman or greasy grazier that I met o' theheath--it is many a good fellow's shift in these bad times."

  "Go to," said Everard; "be cautious--use none of your looseacquaintance--rule your tongue--beware of the wine-pot--for there islittle danger if thou couldst only but keep thyself sober--Be moderatein speech, and forbear oaths or vaunting."

  "In short, metamorphose myself into such a prig as thou art, Mark,--Well," said Wildrake, "so far as outside will go, I think I can make a_Hope-on-High-Bomby_ [Footnote: A puritanic character in one of Beaumontand Fletcher's plays.] as well as thou canst. Ah! those were merry dayswhen we saw Mills present Bomby at the Fortune playhouse, Mark, ere Ihad lost my laced cloak and the jewel in my ear, or thou hadst gottenthe wrinkle on thy brow, and the puritanic twist of thy mustache!"

  "They were like most worldly pleasures, Wildrake," replied Everard,"sweet in the mouth and bitter in digestion.--But away with thee; andwhen thou bring'st back my answer, thou wilt find me either here or atSaint George's Inn, at the little borough.--Good luck to thee--Be butcautious how thou bearest thyself."

  The Colonel remained in deep meditation.--"I think," he said, "I havenot pledged myself too far to the General. A breach between him and theParliament seems inevitable, and would throw England back into civilwar, of which all men are wearied. He may dislike my messenger--yet thatI do not greatly fear. He knows I would choose such as I can myselfdepend on, and hath dealt enough with the stricter sort to be aware thatthere are among them, as well as elsewhere, men who can hide two facesunder one hood."

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE EIGHTH.

  For there in lofty air was seen to stand The stern Protector of the conquer'd land; Draw in that look with which he wept and swore, Turn'd out the members and made fast the door, Ridding the house of every knave and drone, Forced--though it grieved his soul--to rule alone.

  THE FRANK COURTSHIP.--CRABBE.

  Leaving Colonel Everard to his meditations, we follow the jollycavalier, his companion, who, before mounting at the George, did notfail to treat himself to his morning-draught of eggs and muscadine, toenable him to face the harvest wind.

  Although he had suffered himself to be sunk in the extravagant licensewhich was practised by the cavaliers, as if to oppose their conduct inevery point to the preciseness of their enemies, yet Wildrake, well-bornand well-educated, and endowed with good natural parts, and a heartwhich even debauchery, and the wild life of a roaring cavalier, had notbeen able entirely to corrupt, moved on his present embassy with astrange mixture of feelings, such as perhaps he had never in his lifebefore experienced.

  His feelings as a loyalist led him to detest Cromwell, whom in othercircumstances he would scarce have wished to see, except in a field ofbattle, where he could have had the pleasure to exchange pistol-shotswith him. But with this hatred there was mixed a certain degree of fear.Always victorious wherever he fought, the remarkable person whomWildrake was now approaching had acquired that influence over the mindsof his enemies, which constant success is so apt to inspire--theydreaded while they hated him--and joined to these feelings, was arestless meddling curiosity, which made a particular feature inWildrake's character, who, having long had little business of his own,and caring nothing about that which he had, was easily attracted by thedesire of seeing whatever was curious or interesting around him.

  "I should like to see the old rascal after all," he said, "were it butto say that I _had_ seen him."

  He reached Windsor in the afternoon, and felt on his arrival thestrongest inclination to take up his residence at some of his oldhaunts, when he had occasionally frequented that fair town in gayerdays. But resisting all temptations of this kind, he went courageouslyto the principal inn, from which its ancient emblem, the Garter, hadlong disappeared. The master, too, whom Wildrake, experienced in hisknowledge of landlords and hostelries, had remembered a dashing MineHost of Queen Bess's school, had now sobered down to the temper of thetimes, shook his head when he spoke of the Parliament, wielded hisspigot with the gravity of a priest conducting a sacrifice, wishedEngland a happy issue out of all her difficulties, and greatly laudedhis Excellency the Lord-General. Wildrake also remarked, that his winewas better than it was wont to be, the Puritans having an excellent giftat detecting every fallacy in that matter; and that his measures wereless and his charges larger--circumstances which he was induced toattend to, by mine host talking a good deal about his conscience.

  He was told by this important personage, that the Lord-General receivedfrankly all sorts of persons; and that he might obtain access to himnext morning, at eight o'clock, for the trouble of presenting himself atthe Castle-gate, and announcing himself as the bearer of despatches tohis Excellency.

  To the Castle the disguised cavalier repaired at the hour appointed.Admittance was freely permitted to him by the red-coated soldier, who,with austere looks, and his musket on his shoulder, mounted guard at theexternal gate of that noble building. Wildrake passed through theunderward or court, gazing as he passed upon the beautiful Chapel, whichhad but lately received, in darkness and silence, the unhonoured remainsof the slaughtered King of England. Rough as Wildrake was, therecollection of this circumstance affected him so strongly, that he hadnearly turned back in a sort of horror, rather than face the dark anddaring man, to whom, amongst all the actors in that melancholy affair,its tragic conclusion was chiefly to be imputed. But he felt thenecessity of subduing all sentiments of this nature, and compelledhimself to proceed in a negotiation intrusted to his conduct by one towhom he was so much obliged as Colonel Everard. At
the ascent, whichpassed by the Round Tower, he looked to the ensign-staff, from which thebanner of England was wont to float. It was gone, with all its richemblazonry, its gorgeous quarterings, and splendid embroidery; and inits room waved that of the Commonwealth, the cross of Saint George, inits colours of blue and red, not yet intersected by the diagonal crossof Scotland, which was soon after assumed, as if in evidence ofEngland's conquest over her ancient enemy. This change of ensignsincreased the train of his gloomy reflections, in which, althoughcontrary to his wont, he became so deeply wrapped, that the first thingwhich recalled him to himself, was the challenge from the sentinel,accompanied with a stroke of the butt of his musket on the pavement,with an emphasis which made Wildrake start.

  "Whither away, and who are you?"

  "The bearer of a packet," answered Wildrake, "to the worshipful theLord-General."

  "Stand till I call the officer of the guard."

  The corporal made his appearance, distinguished above those of hiscommand by a double quantity of band round his neck, a double height ofsteeple-crowned hat, a larger allowance of cloak, and a trebleproportion of sour gravity of aspect. It might be read on hiscountenance, that he was one of those resolute enthusiasts to whomOliver owed his conquests, whose religious zeal made them even more thana match for the high-spirited and high-born cavaliers, who exhaustedtheir valour in vain defence of their sovereign's person and crown. Helooked with grave solemnity at Wildrake, as if he was making in his ownmind an inventory of his features and dress; and having fully perusedthem, he required "to know his business."

  "My business," said Wildrake, as firmly as he could--for the closeinvestigation of this man had given him some unpleasant nervoussensations--"my business is with your General."

  "With his Excellency the Lord-General, thou wouldst say?" replied thecorporal. "Thy speech, my friend, savours too little of the reverencedue to his Excellency."

  "D--n his Excellency!" was at the lips of the cavalier; but prudencekept guard, and permitted not the offensive words to escape the barrier.He only bowed, and was silent.

  "Follow me," said the starched figure whom he addressed; and Wildrakefollowed him accordingly into the guard-house, which exhibited aninterior characteristic of the times, and very different from what suchmilitary stations present at the present day.

  By the fire sat two or three musketeers, listening to one who wasexpounding some religious mystery to them. He began half beneath hisbreath, but in tones of great volubility, which tones, as he approachedthe conclusion, became sharp and eager, as challenging either instantanswer or silent acquiescence. The audience seemed to listen to thespeaker with immovable features, only answering him with clouds oftobacco-smoke, which they rolled from under their thick mustaches. On abench lay a soldier on his face: whether asleep, or in a fit ofcontemplation, it was impossible to decide. In the midst of the floorstood an officer, as he seemed by his embroidered shoulder-belt andscarf round his waist, otherwise very plainly attired, who was engagedin drilling a stout bumpkin, lately enlisted, to the manual, as it wasthen used. The motions and words of command were twenty at the veryleast; and until they were regularly brought to an end, the corporal didnot permit Wildrake either to sit down or move forward beyond thethreshold of the guard-house. So he had to listen in successionto--Poise your musket--Rest your musket--Cock your musket--Handle yourprimers--and many other forgotten words of discipline, until at lengththe words, "Order your musket," ended the drill for the time. "Thy name,friend?" said the officer to the recruit, when the lesson was over.

  "Ephraim," answered the fellow, with an affected twang through the nose.

  "And what besides Ephraim?"

  "Ephraim Cobb, from the goodly city of Glocester, where I have dwelt forseven years, serving apprentice to a praiseworthy cordwainer."

  "It is a goodly craft," answered the officer; "but casting in thy lotwith ours, doubt not that thou shalt be set beyond thine awl, and thylast to boot."

  A grim smile of the speaker accompanied this poor attempt at a pun; andthen turning round to the corporal, who stood two paces off, with theface of one who seemed desirous of speaking, said, "How now, corporal,what tidings?"

  "Here is one with a packet, an please your Excellency," said thecorporal--"Surely my spirit doth not rejoice in him, seeing I esteem himas a wolf in sheep's clothing."

  By these words, Wildrake learned that he was in the actual presence ofthe remarkable person to whom he was commissioned; and he paused toconsider in what manner he ought to address him.

  The figure of Oliver Cromwell was, as is generally known, in no wayprepossessing. He was of middle stature, strong and coarsely made, withharsh and severe features, indicative, however, of much natural sagacityand depth of thought. His eyes were grey and piercing; his nose toolarge in proportion to his other features, and of a reddish hue.

  His manner of speaking, when he had the purpose to make himselfdistinctly understood, was energetic and forcible, though neithergraceful nor eloquent. No man could on such occasion put his meaninginto fewer and more decisive words. But when, as it often happened, hehad a mind to play the orator, for the benefit of people's ears, withoutenlightening their understanding, Cromwell was wont to invest hismeaning, or that which seemed to be his meaning, in such a mist ofwords, surrounding it with so many exclusions and exceptions, andfortifying it with such a labyrinth of parentheses, that though one ofthe most shrewd men in England, he was, perhaps, the most unintelligiblespeaker that ever perplexed an audience. It has been long since said bythe historian, that a collection of the Protector's speeches would make,with a few exceptions, the most nonsensical book in the world; but heought to have added, that nothing could be more nervous, concise, andintelligible, than what he really intended should be understood.

  It was also remarked of Cromwell, that though born of a good family,both by father and mother, and although he had the usual opportunitiesof education and breeding connected with such an advantage, the fanaticdemocratic ruler could never acquire, or else disdained to practise, thecourtesies usually exercised among the higher classes in theirintercourse with each other. His demeanour was so blunt as sometimesmight be termed clownish, yet there was in his language and manner aforce and energy corresponding to his character, which impressed awe, ifit did not impose respect; and there were even times when that dark andsubtle spirit expanded itself, so as almost to conciliate affection. Theturn for humour, which displayed itself by fits, was broad, and of alow, and sometimes practical character. Something there was in hisdisposition congenial to that of his countrymen; a contempt of folly, ahatred of affectation, and a dislike of ceremony, which, joined to thestrong intrinsic qualities of sense and courage, made him in manyrespects not an unfit representative of the democracy of England.

  His religion must always be a subject of much doubt, and probably ofdoubt which he himself could hardly have cleared up. Unquestionablythere was a time in his life when he was sincerely enthusiastic, andwhen his natural temper, slightly subject to hypochondria, was stronglyagitated by the same fanaticism which influenced so many persons of thetime. On the other hand, there were periods during his political career,when we certainly do him no injustice in charging him with ahypocritical affectation. We shall probably judge him, and others of thesame age, most truly, if we suppose that their religious professionswere partly influential in their own breasts, partly assumed incompliance with their own interest. And so ingenious is the human heartin deceiving itself as well as others, that it is probable neitherCromwell himself, nor those making similar pretensions to distinguishedpiety, could exactly have fixed the point at which their enthusiasmterminated and their hypocrisy commenced; or rather, it was a point notfixed in itself, but fluctuating with the state of health, of good orbad fortune, of high or low spirits, affecting the individual at theperiod.

  Such was the celebrated person, who, turning round on Wildrake, andscanning his countenance closely, seemed so little satisfied with whathe beheld, that he instinctively hitched forward
his belt, so as tobring the handle of his tuck-sword within his reach. But yet, foldinghis arms in his cloak, as if upon second thoughts laying asidesuspicion, or thinking precaution beneath him, he asked the cavalierwhat he was, and whence he came?

  "A poor gentleman, sir,--that is, my lord,"--answered Wildrake; "lastfrom Woodstock."

  "And what may your tidings be, sir _gentleman_?" said Cromwell, with anemphasis. "Truly I have seen those most willing to take upon them thattitle, bear themselves somewhat short of wise men, and good men, andtrue men, with all their gentility; yet gentleman was a good title inold England, when men remembered what it was construed to mean."

  "You say truly, sir," replied Wildrake, suppressing, with difficulty,some of his usual wild expletives; "formerly gentlemen were found ingentlemen's places, but now the world is so changed that you shall findthe broidered belt has changed place with the under spur-leather."

  "Say'st thou me?" said the General; "I profess thou art a boldcompanion, that can bandy words so wantonly;--thou ring'st somewhat tooloud to be good metal, methinks. And, once again, what are thy tidingswith me?"

  "This packet," said Wildrake, "commended to your hands by ColonelMarkham Everard."

  "Alas, I must have mistaken thee," answered Cromwell, mollified at themention of a man's name whom he had great desire to make his own;"forgive us, good friend, for such, we doubt not, thou art. Sit theedown, and commune with thyself as thou may'st, until we have examinedthe contents of thy packet. Let him be looked to, and have what helacks." So saying the General left the guard-house, where Wildrake tookhis seat in the corner, and awaited with patience the issue of hismission.

  The soldiers now thought themselves obliged to treat him with moreconsideration, and offered him a pipe of Trinidado, and a black jackfilled with October. But the look of Cromwell, and the dangeroussituation in which he might be placed by the least chance of detection,induced Wildrake to decline these hospitable offers, and stretching backin his chair, and affecting slumber, he escaped notice or conversation,until a sort of aide-de-camp, or military officer in attendance, came tosummon him to Cromwell's presence.

  By this person he was guided to a postern-gate, through which he enteredthe body of the Castle, and penetrating through many private passagesand staircases, he at length was introduced into a small cabinet, orparlour, in which was much rich furniture, some bearing the royal cipherdisplayed, but all confused and disarranged, together with severalpaintings in massive frames, having their faces turned towards the wall,as if they had been taken down for the purpose of being removed.

  In this scene of disorder, the victorious General of the Commonwealthwas seated in a large easy-chair, covered with damask, and deeplyembroidered, the splendour of which made a strong contrast with theplain, and even homely character of his apparel; although in look andaction he seemed like one who felt that the seat which might have informer days held a prince, was not too much distinguished for his ownfortunes and ambition. Wildrake stood before him, nor did he ask him tosit down.

  "Pearson," said Cromwell, addressing himself to the officer inattendance, "wait in the gallery, but be within call." Pearson bowed,and was retiring. "Who are in the gallery beside?"

  "Worthy Mr. Gordon, the chaplain, was holding forth but now to ColonelOverton, and four captains of your Excellency's regiment."

  "We would have it so," said the General; "we would not there were anycorner in our dwelling where the hungry soul might not meet with manna.Was the good man carried onward in his discourse?"

  "Mightily borne through," said Pearson; "and he was touching therightful claims which the army, and especially your Excellency, hathacquired by becoming the instruments in the great work;--not instrumentsto be broken asunder and cast away when the day of their service isover, but to be preserved, and held precious, and prized for theirhonourable and faithful labours, for which they have fought and marched,and fasted, and prayed, and suffered cold and sorrow; while others, whowould now gladly see them disbanded, and broken, and cashiered, eat ofthe fat, and drink of the strong."

  "Ah, good man!" said Cromwell, "and did he touch upon this so feelingly!I could say something--but not now. Begone, Pearson, to the gallery. Letnot our friends lay aside their swords, but watch as well as pray."

  Pearson retired; and the General, holding the letter of Everard in hishand, looked again for a long while fixedly at Wildrake, as ifconsidering in what strain he should address him.

  When he did speak, it was, at first, in one of those ambiguousdiscourses which we have already described, and by which it was verydifficult for any one to understand his meaning, if, indeed, he knewhimself. We shall be as concise in our statement, as our desire to givethe very words of a man so extraordinary will permit.

  "This letter," he said, "you have brought us from your master, orpatron, Markham Everard; truly an excellent and honourable gentleman asever bore a sword upon his thigh, and one who hath ever distinguishedhimself in the great work of delivering these three poor unhappynations. Answer me not: I know what thou wouldst say.--And this letterhe hath sent to me by thee, his clerk, or secretary, in whom he hathconfidence, and in whom he prays me to have trust, that there may be acareful messenger between us. And lastly, he hath sent thee to me--Donot answer--I know what thou wouldst say,--to me, who, albeit, I am ofthat small consideration, that it would be too much honour for me evento bear a halberd in this great and victorious army of England, amnevertheless exalted to the rank of holding the guidance and theleading-staff thereof.--Nay, do not answer, my friend--I know what thouwouldst say. Now, when communing thus together, our discourse taketh, inrespect to what I have said, a threefold argument, or division: First,as it concerneth thy master; secondly, as it concerneth us and ouroffice; thirdly and lastly, as it toucheth thyself.--Now, as concerningthis good and worthy gentleman, Colonel Markham Everard, truly he hathplayed the man from the beginning of these unhappy buffetings, notturning to the right or to the left, but holding ever in his eye themark at which he aimed. Ay, truly, a faithful, honourable gentleman, andone who may well call me friend; and truly I am pleased to think that hedoth so. Nevertheless, in this vale of tears, we must be governed lessby our private respects and partialities, than by those higherprinciples and points of duty, whereupon the good Colonel MarkhamEverard hath ever framed his purposes, as, truly, I have endeavoured toform mine, that we may all act as becometh good Englishmen and worthypatriots. Then, as for Woodstock, it is a great thing which the goodColonel asks, that it should be taken from the spoil of the godly andleft in keeping of the men of Moab, and especially of the malignant,Henry Lee, whose hand hath been ever against us when he might find roomto raise it; I say, he hath asked a great thing, both in respect ofhimself and me. For we of this poor but godly army of England, areholden, by those of the Parliament, as men who should render in spoilfor them, but be no sharer of it ourselves; even as the buck, which thehounds pull to earth, furnisheth no part of their own food, but they arelashed off from the carcass with whips, like those which requirepunishment for their forwardness, not reward for their services. Yet Ispeak not this so much in respect of this grant of Woodstock, in regard,that, perhaps, their Lordships of the Council, and also the Committeemenof this Parliament, may graciously think they have given me a portion inthe matter, in relation that my kinsman Desborough hath an interestallowed him therein; which interest, as he hath well deserved it for histrue and faithful service to these unhappy and devoted countries, so itwould ill become me to diminish the same to his prejudice, unless itwere upon great and public respects. Thus thou seest how it stands withme, my honest friend, and in what mind I stand touching thy master'srequest to me; which yet I do not say that I can altogether, orunconditionally, grant or refuse, but only tell my simple thoughts withregard thereto. Thou understandest me, I doubt not?"

  Now, Roger Wildrake, with all the attention he had been able to pay tothe Lord-General's speech, had got so much confused among the variousclauses of the harangue, that his brain was bewildered, like tha
t of acountry clown when he chances to get himself involved among a crowd ofcarriages, and cannot stir a step to get out of the way of one of them,without being in danger of being ridden over by the others.

  The General saw his look of perplexity, and began a new oration, to thesame purpose as before; spoke of his love for his kind friend theColonel--his regard for his pious and godly kinsman, Master Desborough--the great importance of the Palace and Park of Woodstock--thedetermination of the Parliament that it should be confiscated, and theproduce brought into the coffers of the state--his own deep venerationfor the authority of Parliament, and his no less deep sense of theinjustice done to the army--how it was his wish and will that allmatters should be settled in an amicable and friendly manner, withoutself-seeking, debate, or strife, betwixt those who had been the handsacting, and such as had been the heads governing, in that great nationalcause--how he was willing, truly willing, to contribute to this work, bylaying down, not his commission only, but his life also, if it wererequested of him, or could be granted with safety to the poor soldiers,to whom, silly poor men, he was bound to be as a father, seeing thatthey had followed him with the duty and affection of children.

  And here he arrived at another dead pause, leaving Wildrake as uncertainas before, whether it was or was not his purpose to grant ColonelEverard the powers he had asked for the protection of Woodstock againstthe Parliamentary Commissioners. Internally he began to entertain hopesthat the justice of Heaven, or the effects of remorse, had confoundedthe regicide's understanding. But no--he could see nothing but sagacityin that steady stern eye, which, while the tongue poured forth itsperiphrastic language in such profusion, seemed to watch with severeaccuracy the effect which his oratory produced on the listener.

  "Egad," thought the cavalier to himself, becoming a little familiar withthe situation in which he was placed, and rather impatient of aconversation--which led to no visible conclusion or termination, "IfNoll were the devil himself, as he is the devil's darling, I will not bethus nose-led by him. I'll e'en brusque it a little, if he goes on atthis rate, and try if I can bring him to a more intelligible mode ofspeaking."

  Entertaining this bold purpose, but half afraid to execute it, Wildrakelay by for an opportunity of making the attempt, while Cromwell wasapparently unable to express his own meaning. He was already beginning athird panegyric upon Colonel Everard, with sundry varied expressions ofhis own wish to oblige him, when Wildrake took the opportunity to strikein, on the General's making one of his oratorical pauses.

  "So please you" he said bluntly, "your worship has already spoken on twotopics of your discourse, your own worthiness, and that of my master,Colonel Everard. But, to enable me to do mine errand, it would benecessary to bestow a few words on the third head."

  "The third?" said Cromwell.

  "Ay," said Wildrake, "which, in your honour's subdivision of yourdiscourse, touched on my unworthy self. What am I to do--what portion amI to have in this matter?"

  Oliver started at once from the tone of voice he had hitherto used, andwhich somewhat resembled the purring of a domestic cat, into the growlof the tiger when about to spring. "_Thy_ portion, jail-bird!" heexclaimed, "the gallows--thou shalt hang as high as Haman, if thoubetray counsel!--But," he added, softening his voice, "keep it like atrue man, and my favour will be the making of thee. Come hither--thouart bold, I see, though somewhat saucy. Thou hast been a malignant--sowrites my worthy friend Colonel Everard; but thou hast now given up thatfalling cause. I tell thee, friend, not all that the Parliament or thearmy could do would have pulled down the Stewarts out of their highplaces, saving that Heaven had a controversy with them. Well, it is asweet and comely thing to buckle on one's armour in behalf of Heaven'scause; otherwise truly, for mine own part, these men might have remainedupon the throne even unto this day. Neither do I blame any for aidingthem, until these successive great judgments have overwhelmed them andtheir house. I am not a bloody man, having in me the feeling of humanfrailty; but, friend, whosoever putteth his hand to the plough, in thegreat actings which are now on foot in these nations, had best bewarethat he do not look back; for, rely upon my simple word, that if youfail me, I will not spare on you one foot's length of the gallows ofHaman. Let me therefore know, at a word, if the leaven of thy malignancyis altogether drubbed out of thee?" "Your honourable lordship," said thecavalier, shrugging up his shoulders, "has done that for most of us, sofar as cudgelling to some tune can perform it."

  "Say'st thou?" said the General, with a grim smile on his lip, whichseemed to intimate that he was not quite inaccessible to flattery; "yea,truly, thou dost not lie in that--we have been an instrument. Neitherare we, as I have already hinted, so severely bent against those whohave striven against us as malignants, as others may be. Theparliament-men best know their own interest and their own pleasure; but,to my poor thinking, it is full time to close these jars, and to allowmen of all kinds the means of doing service to their country; and wethink it will be thy fault if thou art not employed to good purpose forthe state and thyself, on condition thou puttest away the old manentirely from thee, and givest thy earnest attention to what I have totell thee."

  "Your lordship need not doubt my attention," said the cavalier. And therepublican General, after another pause, as one who gave his confidencenot without hesitation, proceeded to explain his views with adistinctness which he seldom used, yet not without his being a littlebiassed now and then, by his long habits of circumlocution, which indeedhe never laid entirely aside, save in the field of battle.

  "Thou seest," he said, "my friend, how things stand with me. TheParliament, I care not who knows it, love me not--still less do theCouncil of State, by whom they manage the executive government of thekingdom. I cannot tell why they nourish suspicion against me, unless itis because I will not deliver this poor innocent army, which hasfollowed me in so many military actions, to be now pulled asunder,broken piecemeal and reduced, so that they who have protected the stateat the expense of their blood, will not have, perchance, the means offeeding themselves by their labour; which, methinks, were hard measure,since it is taking from Esau his birthright, even without giving him apoor mess of pottage."

  "Esau is likely to help himself, I think," replied Wildrake.

  "Truly, thou say'st wisely," replied the General; "it is ill starving anarmed man, if there is food to be had for taking--nevertheless, far beit from me to encourage rebellion, or want of due subordination to theseour rulers. I would only petition, in a due and becoming, a sweet andharmonious manner, that they would listen to our conditions, andconsider our necessities. But, sir, looking on me, and estimating me solittle as they do, you must think that it would be a provocation in metowards the Council of State, as well as the Parliament, if, simply togratify your worthy master, I were to act contrary to their purposes, ordeny currency to the commission under their authority, which is as yetthe highest in the State--and long may it be so for me!--to carry on thesequestration which they intend. And would it not also be said, that Iwas lending myself to the malignant interest, affording this den of theblood-thirsty and lascivious tyrants of yore, to be in this our day aplace of refuge to that old and inveterate Amalekite, Sir Henry Lee, tokeep possession of the place in which he hath so long glorified himself?Truly it would be a perilous matter."

  "Am I then to report," said Wildrake, "an it please you, that you cannotstead Colonel Everard in this matter?"

  "Unconditionally, ay--but, taken conditionally, the answer may beotherwise,"--answered Cromwell. "I see thou art not able to fathom mypurpose, and therefore I will partly unfold it to thee.--But takenotice, that, should thy tongue betray my counsel, save in so far ascarrying it to thy master, by all the blood which has been shed in thesewild times, thou shalt die a thousand deaths in one!"

  "Do not fear me, sir," said Wildrake, whose natural boldness andcarelessness of character was for the present time borne down andquelled, like that of falcon's in the presence of the eagle.

  "Hear me, then," said Cromwell, "and let
no syllable escape thee.Knowest thou not the young Lee, whom they call Albert, a malignant likehis father, and one who went up with the young Man to that last rufflewhich we had with him at Worcester--May we be grateful for the victory!"

  "I know there is such a young gentleman as Albert Lee," said Wildrake.

  "And knowest thou not--I speak not by way of prying into the goodColonel's secrets, but only as it behoves me to know something of thematter, that I may best judge how I am to serve him--Knowest thou notthat thy master, Markham Everard, is a suitor after the sister of thissame malignant, a daughter of the old Keeper, called Sir Henry Lee?"

  "All this I have heard," said Wildrake, "nor can I deny that I believein it."

  "Well then, go to.--When the young man Charles Stewart fled from thefield of Worcester, and was by sharp chase and pursuit compelled toseparate himself from his followers, I know by sure intelligence thatthis Albert Lee was one of the last who remained with him, if not indeedthe very last."

  "It was devilish like him," said the cavalier, without sufficientlyweighing his expressions, considering in what presence they were to beuttered--"And I'll uphold him with my rapier, to be a true chip of theold block!"

  "Ha, swearest thou?" said the General. "Is this thy reformation?"

  "I never swear, so please you," replied Wildrake, recollecting himself,"except there is some mention of malignants and cavaliers in my hearing;and then the old habit returns, and I swear like one of Goring'stroopers."

  "Out upon thee," said the General; "what can it avail thee to practise aprofanity so horrible to the ears of others, and which brings noemolument to him who uses it?"

  "There are, doubtless, more profitable sins in the world than the barrenand unprofitable vice of swearing," was the answer which rose to thelips of the cavalier; but that was exchanged for a profession of regretfor having given offence. The truth was, the discourse began to take aturn which rendered it more interesting than ever to Wildrake, whotherefore determined not to lose the opportunity for obtainingpossession of the secret that seemed to be suspended on Cromwells lips;and that could only be through means of keeping guard upon his own.

  "What sort of a house is Woodstock?" said the General, abruptly.

  "An old mansion," said Wildrake, in reply; "and, so far as I could judgeby a single night's lodgings, having abundance of backstairs, alsosubterranean passages, and all the communications under ground, whichare common in old raven-nests of the sort."

  "And places for concealing priests, unquestionably," said Cromwell. "Itis seldom that such ancient houses lack secret stalls wherein to mew upthese calves of Bethel."

  "Your Honour's Excellency," said Wildrake, "may swear to that."

  "I swear not at all," replied the General, drily.--"But what think'stthou, good fellow?--I will ask thee a blunt question--Where will thosetwo Worcester fugitives that thou wottest of be more likely to takeshelter--and that they must be sheltered somewhere I well know--than, inthis same old palace, with all the corners and concealment whereof youngAlbert hath been acquainted ever since his earliest infancy?"

  "Truly," said Wildrake, making an effort to answer the question withseeming indifference, while the possibility of such an event, and itsconsequences, flashed fearfully upon his mind,--"Truly, I should be ofyour honour's opinion, but that I think the company, who, by thecommission of Parliament, have occupied Woodstock, are likely to frightthem thence, as a cat scares doves from a pigeon-house. Theneighbourhood, with reverence, of Generals Desborough and Harrison, willsuit ill with fugitives from Worcester field."

  "I thought as much, and so, indeed, would I have it," answered theGeneral. "Long may it be ere our names shall be aught but a terror toour enemies. But in this matter, if thou art an active plotter for thymaster's interest, thou might'st, I should think, work out somethingfavourable to his present object."

  "My brain is too poor to reach the depth of your honourable purpose,"said Wildrake.

  "Listen, then, and let it be to profit," answered Cromwell. "Assuredlythe conquest at Worcester was a great and crowning mercy; yet might weseem to be but small in our thankfulness for the same, did we not dowhat in us lies towards the ultimate improvement and final conclusion ofthe great work which has been thus prosperous in our hands, professing,in pure humility and singleness of heart, that we do not, in any way,deserve our instrumentality to be remembered, nay, would rather pray andentreat, that our name and fortunes were forgotten, than that the greatwork were in itself incomplete. Nevertheless, truly, placed as we noware, it concerns us more nearly than others,--that is, if so poorcreatures should at all speak of themselves as concerned, whether moreor less, with these changes which have been wrought around,--not, I say,by ourselves, or our own power, but by the destiny to which we werecalled, fulfilling the same with all meekness and humility,--I say itconcerns us nearly that all things should be done in conformity with thegreat work which hath been wrought, and is yet working, in these lands.Such is my plain and simple meaning. Nevertheless, it is much to bedesired that this young man, this King of Scots, as he calledhimself--this Charles Stewart--should not escape forth from the nation,where his arrival has wrought so much disturbance and bloodshed."

  "I have no doubt," said the cavalier, looking down, "that yourlordship's wisdom hath directed all things as they may best lead towardssuch a consummation; and I pray your pains may be paid as they deserve."

  "I thank thee, friend," said Cromwell, with much humility; "doubtless weshall meet our reward, being in the hands of a good paymaster, who neverpasseth Saturday night. But understand me, friend--I desire no more thanmy own share in the good work. I would heartily do what poor kindness Ican to your worthy master, and even to you in your degree--for such as Ido not converse with ordinary men, that our presence may be forgottenlike an every-day's occurrence. We speak to men like thee for theirreward or their punishment; and I trust it will be the former which thouin thine office wilt merit at my hand."

  "Your honour," said Wildrake, "speaks like one accustomed to command."

  "True; men's minds are likened to those of my degree by fear andreverence," said the General;--"but enough of that, desiring, as I do,no other dependency on my special person than is alike to us all uponthat which is above us. But I would desire to cast this golden ball intoyour master's lap. He hath served against this Charles Stewart and hisfather. But he is a kinsman near to the old knight Lee, and stands wellaffected towards his daughter. _Thou_ also wilt keep a watch, myfriend--that ruffling look of thine will procure thee the confidence ofevery malignant, and the prey cannot approach this cover, as though toshelter, like a coney in the rocks, but thou wilt be sensible of hispresence."

  "I make a shift to comprehend your Excellency," said the cavalier; "andI thank you heartily for the good opinion you have put upon me, andwhich, I pray I may have some handsome opportunity of deserving, that Imay show my gratitude by the event. But still, with reverence, yourExcellency's scheme seems unlikely, while Woodstock remains inpossession of the sequestrators. Both the old knight and his son, andfar more such a fugitive as your honor hinted at, will take special carenot to approach it till they are removed."

  "It is for that I have been dealing with thee thus long," said theGeneral.--"I told thee that I was something unwilling, upon slightoccasion, to dispossess the sequestrators by my own proper warrant,although having, perhaps, sufficient authority in the state both to doso, and to despise the murmurs of those who blame me. In brief, I wouldbe both to tamper with my privileges, and make experiments between theirstrength, and the powers of the commission granted by others, withoutpressing need, or at least great prospect of advantage. So, if thyColonel will undertake, for his love of the Republic, to find the meansof preventing its worst and nearest danger, which must needs occur fromthe escape of this young Man, and will do his endeavour to stay him, incase his flight should lead him to Woodstock, which I hold very likely,I will give thee an order to these sequestrators, to evacuate the palaceinstantly; and to the next troop of my re
giment, which lies at Oxford,to turn them out by the shoulders, if they make any scruples--Ay, even,for example's sake, if they drag Desborough out foremost, though he bewedded to my sister."

  "So please you, sir," said Wildrake, "and with your most powerfulwarrant, I trust I might expel the commissioners, even without the aidof your most warlike and devout troopers."

  "That is what I am least anxious about," replied the General; "I shouldlike to see the best of them sit after I had nodded to them to begone--always excepting the worshipful House, in whose name our commissionsrun; but who, as some think, will be done with politics ere it be timeto renew them. Therefore, what chiefly concerns me to know, is, whetherthy master will embrace a traffic which hath such a fair promise ofprofit with it. I am well convinced that, with a scout like thee, whohast been in the cavaliers' quarters, and canst, I should guess, resumethy drinking, ruffianly, health-quaffing manners whenever thou hast amind, he must discover where this Stewart hath ensconced himself. Eitherthe young Lee will visit the old one in person, or he will write to him,or hold communication with him by letter. At all events, Markham Everardand thou must have an eye in every hair of your head." While he spoke, aflush passed over his brow, he rose from his chair, and paced theapartment in agitation. "Woe to you, if you suffer the young adventurerto escape me!--you had better be in the deepest dungeon in Europe, thanbreathe the air of England, should you but dream of playing me false. Ihave spoken freely to thee, fellow--more freely than is my wont--thetime required it. But, to share my confidence is like keeping a watchover a powder-magazine, the least and most insignificant spark blowsthee to ashes. Tell your master what I said--but not how I said it--Fie,that I should have been betrayed into this distemperature of passion!--begone, sirrah. Pearson shall bring thee sealed orders--Yet, stay--thouhast something to ask."

  "I would know," said Wildrake, to whom the visible anxiety of theGeneral gave some confidence, "what is the figure of this young gallant,in case I should find him?"

  "A tall, rawboned, swarthy lad, they say he has shot up into. Here ishis picture by a good hand, some time since." He turned round one of theportraits which stood with its face against the wall; but it proved notto be that of Charles the Second, but of his unhappy father.

  The first motion of Cromwell indicated a purpose of hastily replacingthe picture, and it seemed as if an effort were necessary to repress hisdisinclination to look upon it. But he did repress it, and, placing thepicture against the wall, withdrew slowly and sternly, as if, indefiance of his own feelings, he was determined to gain a place fromwhich to see it to advantage. It was well for Wildrake that hisdangerous companion had not turned an eye on him, for _his_ blood alsokindled when he saw the portrait of his master in the hands of the chiefauthor of his death. Being a fierce and desperate man, he commanded hispassion with great difficulty; and if, on its first violence, he hadbeen provided with a suitable weapon, it is possible Cromwell wouldnever have ascended higher in his bold ascent towards supreme power.

  But this natural and sudden flash of indignation, which rushed throughthe veins of an ordinary man like Wildrake, was presently subdued, whenconfronted with the strong yet stifled emotion displayed by so powerfula character as Cromwell. As the cavalier looked on his dark and boldcountenance, agitated by inward and indescribable feelings, he found hisown violence of spirit die away and lose itself in fear and wonder. Sotrue it is, that as greater lights swallow up and extinguish the displayof those which are less, so men of great, capacious, and overrulingminds, bear aside and subdue, in their climax of passion, the morefeeble wills and passions of others; as, when a river joins a brook, thefiercer torrent shoulders aside the smaller stream.

  Wildrake stood a silent, inactive, and almost a terrified spectator,while Cromwell, assuming a firm sternness of eye and manner, as one whocompels himself to look on what some strong internal feeling renderspainful and disgustful to him, proceeded, in brief and interruptedexpressions, but yet with a firm voice, to comment on the portrait ofthe late King. His words seemed less addressed to Wildrake, than to bethe spontaneous unburdening of his own bosom, swelling underrecollection of the past and anticipation of the future.

  "That Flemish painter" he said--"that Antonio Vandyck--what a power hehas! Steel may mutilate, warriors may waste and destroy--still the Kingstands uninjured by time; and our grandchildren, while they read hishistory, may look on his image, and compare the melancholy features withthe woful tale.--It was a stern necessity--it was an awful deed! Thecalm pride of that eye might have ruled worlds of crouching Frenchmen,or supple Italians, or formal Spaniards; but its glances only roused thenative courage of the stern Englishman.--Lay not on poor sinful man,whose breath is in, his nostrils, the blame that he falls, when Heavennever gave him strength of nerves to stand! The weak rider is thrown byhis unruly horse, and trampled to death--the strongest man, the bestcavalier, springs to the empty saddle, and uses bit and spur till thefiery steed knows its master. Who blames him, who, mounted aloft, ridestriumphantly amongst the people, for having succeeded, where theunskilful and feeble fell and died? Verily he hath his reward: Then,what is that piece of painted canvas to me more than others? No; let himshow to others the reproaches of that cold, calm face, that proud yetcomplaining eye: Those who have acted on higher respects have no causeto start at painted shadows. Not wealth nor power brought me from myobscurity. The oppressed consciences, the injured liberties of England,were the banner that I followed."

  He raised his voice so high, as if pleading in his own defence beforesome tribunal, that Pearson, the officer in attendance, looked into theapartment; and observing his master, with his eyes kindling, his armextended, his foot advanced, and his voice raised, like a general in theact of commanding the advance of his army, he instantly withdrew.

  "It was other than selfish regards that drew me forth to action,"continued Cromwell, "and I dare the world--ay, living or dead Ichallenge--to assert that I armed for a private cause, or as a means ofenlarging my fortunes. Neither was there a trooper in the regiment whocame there with less of personal ill will to yonder unhappy"--

  At this moment the door of the apartment opened, and a gentlewomanentered, who, from her resemblance to the General, although her featureswere soft and feminine, might be immediately recognised as his daughter.She walked up to Cromwell, gently but firmly passed her arm through his,and said to him in a persuasive tone, "Father, this is not well--youhave promised me this should not happen."

  The General hung down his head, like one who was either ashamed of thepassion to which he had given way, or of the influence which wasexercised over him. He yielded, however, to the affectionate impulse,and left the apartment, without again turning his head towards theportrait which had so much affected him, or looking towards Wildrake,who remained fixed in astonishment.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE NINTH.

  _Doctor_.--Go to, go to,--You have known what you should not. MACBETH.

  Wildrake was left in the cabinet, as we have said, astonished and alone.It was often noised about, that Cromwell, the deep and sagaciousstatesman, the calm and intrepid commander, he who had overcome suchdifficulties, and ascended to such heights, that he seemed already tobestride the land which he had conquered, had, like many other men ofgreat genius, a constitutional taint of melancholy, which sometimesdisplayed itself both in words and actions, and had been first observedin that sudden and striking change, when, abandoning entirely thedissolute freaks of his youth, he embraced a very strict course ofreligious observances, which, upon some occasions, he seemed to consideras bringing him into more near and close contact with the spiritualworld. This extraordinary man is said sometimes, during that period ofhis life, to have given way to spiritual delusions, or, as he himselfconceived them, prophetic inspirations of approaching grandeur, and ofstrange, deep, and mysterious agencies, in which he was in future to beengaged, in the same manner as his younger years had been marked by fitsof exuberant and excessive frolic and debau
cheries. Something of thiskind seemed to explain the ebullition of passion which he had nowmanifested.

  With wonder at what he had witnessed, Wildrake felt some anxiety on hisown account. Though not the most reflecting of mortals, he had senseenough to know, that it is dangerous to be a witness of the infirmitiesof men high in power; and he was left so long by himself, as induced himto entertain some secret doubts, whether the General might not betempted to take means of confining or removing a witness, who had seenhim lowered, as it seemed, by the suggestions of his own conscience,beneath that lofty flight, which, in general, he affected to sustainabove the rest of the sublunary world.

  In this, however, he wronged Cromwell, who was free either from anextreme degree of jealous suspicion, or from any thing which approachedtowards blood-thirstiness. Pearson appeared, after a lapse of about anhour, and, intimating to Wildrake that he was to follow, conducted himinto a distant apartment, in which he found the General seated on acouch. His daughter was in the apartment, but remained at some distance,apparently busied with some female needle-work, and scarce turned herhead as Pearson and Wildrake entered.

  At a sign from the Lord-General, Wildrake approached him as before."Comrade," he said, "your old friends the cavaliers look on me as theirenemy, and conduct themselves towards me as if they desired to make mesuch. I profess they are labouring to their own prejudice; for I regard,and have ever regarded them, as honest and honourable fools, who weresilly enough to run their necks into nooses and their heads againststonewalls, that a man called Stewart, and no other, should be king overthem. Fools! are there no words made of letters that would sound as wellas Charles Stewart, with that magic title beside them? Why, the wordKing is like a lighted lamp, that throws the same bright gilding uponany combination of the alphabet, and yet you must shed your blood for aname! But thou, for thy part, shalt have no wrong from me. Here is anorder, well warranted, to clear the Lodge at Woodstock, and abandon itto thy master's keeping, or those whom he shall appoint. He will havehis uncle and pretty cousin with him, doubtless. Fare thee well--thinkon what I told thee. They say beauty is a loadstone to yonder long ladthou dost wot of; but I reckon he has other stars at present to directhis course than bright eyes and fair hair. Be it as it may, thou knowstmy purpose--peer out, peer out; keep a constant and careful look-out onevery ragged patch that wanders by hedge-row or lane--these are dayswhen a beggar's cloak may cover a king's ransom. There are some broadPortugal pieces for thee--something strange to thy pouch, I ween.--Oncemore, think on what thou hast heard, and," he added, in a lower and moreimpressive tone of voice, "forget what thou hast seen. My service to thymaster;--and, yet once again, _remember_--and _forget_."--Wildrake madehis obeisance, and, returning to his inn, left Windsor with all possiblespeed.

  It was afternoon in the same day when the cavalier rejoined hisround-head friend, who was anxiously expecting him at the inn inWoodstock appointed for their rendezvous.

  "Where hast thou been?--what hast thou seen?--what strange uncertaintyis in thy looks?--and why dost thou not answer me?"

  "Because," said Wildrake, laying aside his riding cloak and rapier, "youask so many questions at once. A man has but one tongue to answer with,and mine is well-nigh glued to the roof of my mouth."

  "Will drink unloosen it?" said the Colonel; "though I dare say thou hasttried that spell at every ale-house on the road. Call for what thouwouldst have, man, only be quick."

  "Colonel Everard," answered Wildrake, "I have not tasted so much as acup of cold water this day."

  "Then thou art out of humour for that reason," said the Colonel; "salvethy sore with brandy, if thou wilt, but leave being so fantastic andunlike to thyself, as thou showest in this silent mood."

  "Colonel Everard," replied the cavalier, very gravely, "I am an alteredman."

  "I think thou dost alter," said Everard, "every day in the year, andevery hour of the day. Come, good now, tell me, hast thou seen theGeneral, and got his warrant for clearing out the sequestrators fromWoodstock?"

  "I have seen the devil," said Wildrake, "and have, as thou say'st, got awarrant from him."

  "Give it me hastily," said Everard, catching at the packet.

  "Forgive me, Mark," said Wildrake; "if thou knewest the purpose withwhich this deed is granted--if thou knewest--what it is not my purposeto tell thee--what manner of hopes are founded on thy accepting it, Ihave that opinion of thee, Mark Everard, that thou wouldst as soon takea red-hot horse-shoe from the anvil with thy bare hand, as receive intoit this slip of paper."

  "Come, come," said Everard, "this comes of some of your exalted ideas ofloyalty, which, excellent within certain bounds, drive us mad whenencouraged up to some heights. Do not think, since I must needs speakplainly with thee, that I see without sorrow the downfall of our ancientmonarchy, and the substitution of another form of government in itsstead; but ought my regret for the past to prevent my acquiescing andaiding in such measures as are likely to settle the future? The royalcause is ruined, hadst thou and every cavalier in England sworn thecontrary; ruined, not to rise again--for many a day at least. TheParliament, so often draughted and drained of those who were courageousenough to maintain their own freedom of opinion, is now reduced to ahandful of statesmen, who have lost the respect of the people, from thelength of time during which they have held the supreme management ofaffairs. They cannot stand long unless they were to reduce the army; andthe army, late servants, are now masters, and will refuse to be reduced.They know their strength, and that they may be an army subsisting on payand free quarters throughout England as long as they will. I tell thee,Wildrake, unless we look to the only man who can rule and manage them,we may expect military law throughout the land; and I, for mine ownpart, look for any preservation of our privileges that may be vouchsafedto us, only through the wisdom and forbearance of Cromwell. Now you havemy secret. You are aware that I am not doing the best I would, but thebest I can. I wish--not so ardently as thou, perhaps--yet I _do_ wishthat the King could have been restored on good terms of composition,safe for us and for himself. And now, good Wildrake, rebel as thouthinkest me, make me no worse a rebel than an unwilling one. God knows,I never laid aside love and reverence to the King, even in drawing mysword against his ill advisers."

  "Ah, plague on you," said Wildrake, "that is the very cant of it--that'swhat you all say. All of you fought against the King in pure love andloyalty, and not otherwise. However, I see your drift, and I own that Ilike it better than I expected. The army is your bear now, and old Nollis your bearward; and you are like a country constable, who makesinterest with the bearward that he may prevent him from letting bruinloose. Well, there may come a day when the sun will shine on our side ofthe fence, and thereon shall you, and all the good fair-weather folkswho love the stronger party, come and make common cause with us."

  Without much attending to what his friend said, Colonel Everardcarefully studied the warrant of Cromwell. "It is bolder and moreperemptory than I expected," he said. "The General must feel himselfstrong, when he opposes his own authority so directly to that of theCouncil of State and the Parliament."

  "You will not hesitate to act upon it?" said Wildrake.

  "That I certainly will not," answered Everard; "but I must wait till Ihave the assistance of the Mayor, who, I think, will gladly see thesefellows ejected from the Lodge. I must not go altogether upon militaryauthority, if possible." Then, stepping to the door of the apartment, hedespatched a servant of the house in quest of the Chief Magistrate,desiring he should be made acquainted that Colonel Everard desired tosee him with as little loss of time as possible.

  "You are sure he will come, like a dog at a whistle," said Wildrake."The word captain, or colonel, makes the fat citizen trot in these days,when one sword is worth fifty corporation charters. But there aredragoons yonder, as well as the grim-faced knave whom I frightened theother evening when I showed my face in at the window. Think'st thou theknaves will show no rough play?"

  "The General's warrant will weigh more with them
than a dozen acts ofParliament," said Everard.--"But it is time thou eatest, if thou hast intruth ridden from Windsor hither without baiting."

  "I care not about it," said Wildrake: "I tell thee, your General gave mea breakfast, which, I think, will serve me one while, if I am ever ableto digest it. By the mass, it lay so heavy on my conscience, that Icarried it to church to see if I could digest it there with my othersins. But not a whit."

  "To church!--to the door of the church, thou meanest," said Everard. "Iknow thy way--thou art ever wont to pull thy hat off reverently at thethreshold; but for crossing it, that day seldom comes."

  "Well," replied Wildrake, "and if I do pull off my castor and kneel, isit not seemly to show the same respects in a church which we offer in apalace? It is a dainty matter, is it not, to see your Anabaptists, andBrownists, and the rest of you, gather to a sermon with as littleceremony as hogs to a trough! But here comes food, and now for a grace,if I can remember one."

  Everard was too much interested about the fate of his uncle and his faircousin, and the prospect of restoring them to their quiet home, underthe protection of that formidable truncheon which was already regardedas the leading-staff of England, to remark, that certainly a greatalteration had taken place in the manners and outward behaviour at leastof his companion. His demeanour frequently evinced a sort of strugglebetwixt old habits of indulgence, and some newly formed resolutions ofabstinence; and it was almost ludicrous to see how often the hand of theneophyte directed itself naturally to a large black leathern jack, whichcontained two double flagons of strong ale, and how often, diverted fromits purpose by the better reflections of the reformed toper, it seized,instead, upon a large ewer of salubrious and pure water.

  It was not difficult to see that the task of sobriety was not yet becomeeasy, and that, if it had the recommendation of the intellectual portionof the party who had resolved upon it, the outward man yielded areluctant and restive compliance. But honest Wildrake had beendreadfully frightened at the course proposed to him by Cromwell, and,with a feeling not peculiar to the Catholic religion, had formed asolemn resolution within his own mind, that, if he came off safe andwith honour from this dangerous interview, he would show his sense ofHeaven's favour, by renouncing some of the sins which most easily besethim, and especially that of intemperance, to which, like many of hiswild compeers, he was too much addicted.

  This resolution, or vow, was partly prudential as well as religious; forit occurred to him as very possible, that some matters of a difficultand delicate nature might be thrown into his hands at the presentemergency, during the conduct of which it would be fitting for him toact by some better oracle than that of the Bottle, celebrated byRabelais. In full compliance with this prudent determination, he touchedneither the ale nor the brandy which were placed before him, anddeclined peremptorily the sack with which his friend would havegarnished the board. Nevertheless, just as the boy removed the trenchersand napkins, together with the large black-jack which we have alreadymentioned, and was one or two steps on his way to the door, the sinewyarm of the cavalier, which seemed to elongate itself on purpose, (as itextended far beyond the folds of the threadbare jacket,) arrested theprogress of the retiring Ganymede, and seizing on the black-jack,conveyed it to the lips, which were gently breathing forth theaspiration, "D--n--I mean. Heaven forgive me--we are poor creatures ofclay--one modest sip must be permitted to our frailty."

  So murmuring, he glued the huge flagon to his lips, and as the head wasslowly and gradually inclined backwards, in proportion as the right handelevated the bottom of the pitcher, Everard had great doubts whether thedrinker and the cup were likely to part until the whole contents of thelatter had been transferred to the person of the former. Roger Wildrakestinted, however, when, by a moderate computation, he had swallowed atone draught about a quart and a half.

  He then replaced it on the salver, fetched a long breath to refresh hislungs, bade the boy get him gone with the rest of the liquors, in a tonewhich inferred some dread of his constancy, and then, turning to hisfriend Everard, he expatiated in praise of moderation, observing, thatthe mouthful which he had just taken had been of more service to himthan if he had remained quaffing healths at table for four hourstogether.

  His friend made no reply, but could not help being privately of opinionthat Wildrake's temperance had done as much execution on the tankard inhis single draught, as some more moderate topers might have effected ifthey had sat sipping for an evening. But the subject was changed by theentrance of the landlord, who came to announce to his honour ColonelEverard, that the worshipful Mayor of Woodstock, with the Rev. MasterHoldenough, were come to wait upon him.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE TENTH.

  Here we have one head Upon two bodies,--your two-headed bullock Is but an ass to such a prodigy.

  These two have but one meaning, thought, and counsel: And when the single noddle has spoke out, The four legs scrape assent to it. OLD PLAY.

  In the goodly form of the honest Mayor, there was a bustling mixture ofimportance and embarrassment, like the deportment of a man who wasconscious that he had an important part to act, if he could but exactlydiscover what that part was. But both were mingled with much pleasure atseeing Everard, and he frequently repeated his welcomes and all-hailsbefore he could be brought to attend to what that gentleman said inreply.

  "Good, worthy Colonel, you are indeed a desirable sight to Woodstock atall times, being, as I may say, almost our townsman, as you have dweltso much and so long at the palace. Truly, the matter begins almost topass my wit, though I have transacted the affairs of this borough formany a long day; and you are come to my assistance like, like"--

  "_Tanquam Deus ex machina_, as the Ethnic poet hath it," said MasterHoldenough, "although I do not often quote from such books.--Indeed,Master Markham Everard,--or worthy Colonel, as I ought rather tosay--you are simply the most welcome man who has come to Woodstock sincethe days of old King Harry."

  "I had some business with you, my good friend," said the Colonel,addressing the Mayor; "I shall be glad if it should so happen at thesame time, that I may find occasion to pleasure you or your worthypastor."

  "No question you can do so, good sir;" interposed Master Holdenough;"you have the heart, sir, and you have the hand; and we are much in wantof good counsel, and that from a man of action. I am aware, worthyColonel, that you and your worthy father have ever borne yourselves inthese turmoils like men of a truly Christian and moderate spirit,striving to pour oil into the wounds of the land, which some would rubwith vitriol and pepper: and we know you are faithful children of thatchurch which we have reformed from its papistical and prelaticaltenets."

  "My good and reverend friend," said Everard, "I respect the piety andlearning of many of your teachers; but I am also for liberty ofconscience to all men. I neither side with sectaries, nor do I desire tosee them the object of suppression by violence."

  "Sir, sir," said the Presbyterian, hastily, "all this hath a fair sound;but I would you should think what a fine country and church we are liketo have of it, amidst the errors, blasphemies, and schisms, which aredaily introduced into the church and kingdom of England, so that worthyMaster Edwards, in his Gangrena, declareth, that our native country isabout to become the very sink and cess-pool of all schisms, heresies,blasphemies, and confusions, as the army of Hannibal was said to be therefuse of all nations--_Colluvies omnium gentium_.--Believe me, worthyColonel, that they of the Honourable House view all this over lightly,and with the winking connivance of old Eli. These instructors, theschismatics, shoulder the orthodox ministers out of their pulpits,thrust themselves into families, and break up the peace thereof,stealing away men's hearts from the established faith."

  "My good Master Holdenough," replied the Colonel, interrupting thezealous preacher, "there is ground of sorrow for all these unhappydiscords; and I hold with you, that the fiery spirits of the presenttime hav
e raised men's minds at once above sober-minded and sincerereligion, and above decorum and common sense. But there is no help savepatience. Enthusiasm is a stream that may foam off in its own time,whereas it is sure to bear down every barrier which is directly opposedto it.--But what are these schismatical proceedings to our presentpurpose?"

  "Why, partly this, sir," said Holdenough, "although perhaps you may makeless of it than I should have thought before we met.--I was myself--I,Nehemiah Holdenough, (he added consequentially,) was forcibly expelledfrom my own pulpit, even as a man should have been thrust out of his ownhouse, by an alien, and an intruder--a wolf, who was not at the troubleeven to put on sheep's clothing, but came in his native wolfish attireof buff and bandalier, and held forth in my stead to the people, who areto me as a flock to the lawful shepherd. It is too true, sir--MasterMayor saw it, and strove to take such order to prevent it as man might,though," turning to the Mayor, "I think still you might have striven alittle more."

  "Good now, good Master Holdenough, do not let us go back on thatquestion," said the Mayor. "Guy of Warwick, or Bevis of Hampton, mightdo something with this generation; but truly, they are too many and toostrong for the Mayor of Woodstock."

  "I think Master Mayor speaks very good sense," said the Colonel; "if theIndependents are not allowed to preach, I fear me they will notfight;--and then if you were to have another rising of cavaliers?"

  "There are worse folks may rise than cavaliers," said Holdenough.

  "How, sir?" replied Colonel Everard. "Let me remind you, MasterHoldenough, that is no safe language in the present state of thenation."

  "I say," said the Presbyterian, "there are worse folk may rise thancavaliers; and I will prove what I say. The devil is worse than theworst cavalier that ever drank a health, or swore an oath--and the devilhas arisen at Woodstock Lodge!"

  "Ay, truly hath he," said the Mayor, "bodily and visibly, in figure andform--An awful time we live in!"

  "Gentlemen, I really know not how I am to understand you," said Everard.

  "Why, it was even about the devil we came to speak with you," said theMayor; "but the worthy minister is always so hot upon the sectaries"--

  "Which are the devil's brats, and nearly akin to him," said MasterHoldenough. "But true it is, that the growth of these sects has broughtup the Evil One even upon the face of the earth, to look after his owninterest, where he finds it most thriving."

  "Master Holdenough," said the Colonel, "if you speak figuratively, Ihave already told you that I have neither the means nor the skillsufficient to temper these religious heats. But if you design to saythat there has been an actual apparition of the devil, I presume tothink that you, with your doctrine and your learning, would be a fittermatch for him than a soldier like me."

  "True, sir; and I have that confidence in the commission which I hold,that I would take the field against the foul fiend without a moment'sdelay," said Holdenough; "but the place in which he hath of lateappeared, being Woodstock, is filled with those dangerous and impiouspersons, of whom I have been but now complaining; and though, confidentin my own resources, I dare venture in disputation with their GreatMaster himself; yet without your protection, most worthy Colonel, I seenot that I may with prudence trust myself with the tossing and goring oxDesborough, or the bloody and devouring bear Harrison, or the cold andpoisonous snake Bletson--all of whom are now at the Lodge, doing licenseand taking spoil as they think meet; and, as all men say, the devil hathcome to make a fourth with them."

  "In good truth, worthy and noble sir," said the Mayor, "it is even asMaster Holdenough says--our privileges are declared void, our cattleseized in the very pastures. They talk of cutting down and disparkingthe fair Chase, which has been so long the pleasure of so many kings,and making Woodstock of as little note as any paltry village. I assureyou we heard of your arrival with joy, and wondered at your keepingyourself so close in your lodgings. We know no one save your father oryou, that are like to stand the poor burgesses' friend in thisextremity, since almost all the gentry around are malignants, and undersequestration. We trust, therefore, you will make strong intercession inour behalf."

  "Certainly, Master Mayor," said the Colonel, who saw himself withpleasure anticipated; "it was my very purpose to have interfered in thismatter; and I did but keep myself alone until I should be furnished withsome authority from the Lord-General."

  "Powers from the Lord-General!" said the Mayor, thrusting the clergy-manwith his elbow--"Dost thou hear that?--What cock will fight that cock?--We shall carry it now over their necks, and Woodstock shall be braveWoodstock still!"

  "Keep thine elbow from my side, friend," said Holdenough, annoyed by theaction which the Mayor had suited to his words; "and may the Lord sendthat Cromwell prove not as sharp to the people of England as thy bonesagainst my person! Yet I approve that we should use his authority tostop the course of these men's proceedings."

  "Let us set out, then," said Colonel Everard; "and I trust we shall findthe gentlemen reasonable and obedient."

  The functionaries, laic and clerical, assented with much joy; and theColonel required and received Wildrake's assistance in putting on hiscloak and rapier, as if he had been the dependent whose part he acted.The cavalier contrived, however, while doing him these menial offices,to give his friend a shrewd pinch, in order to maintain the footing ofsecret equality betwixt them.

  The Colonel was saluted, as they passed through the streets, by many ofthe anxious inhabitants, who seemed to consider his intervention asaffording the only chance of saving their fine Park, and the rights ofthe corporation, as well as of individuals, from ruin and confiscation.

  As they entered the Park, the Colonel asked his companions, "What isthis you say of apparitions being seen amongst them?"

  "Why, Colonel," said the clergyman, "you know yourself that Woodstockwas always haunted?"

  "I have lived therein many a day," said the Colonel; "and I know I neversaw the least sign of it, although idle people spoke of the house asthey do of all old mansions, and gave the apartments ghosts and spectresto fill up the places of as many of the deceased great, as had everdwelt there."

  "Nay, but, good Colonel," said the clergyman, "I trust you have notreached the prevailing sin of the times, and become indifferent to thetestimony in favour of apparitions, which appears so conclusive to allbut atheists, and advocates for witches?"

  "I would not absolutely disbelieve what is so generally affirmed," saidthe Colonel; "but my reason leads me to doubt most of the stories whichI have heard of this sort, and my own experience never went to confirmany of them."

  "Ay, but trust me," said Holdenough, "there was always a demon of one orthe other species about this Woodstock. Not a man or woman in the townbut has heard stories of apparitions in the forest, or about the oldcastle. Sometimes it is a pack of hounds, that sweep along, and thewhoops and halloos of the huntsmen, and the winding of horns and thegalloping of horse, which is heard as if first more distant, and thenclose around you--and then anon it is a solitary huntsman, who asks ifyou can tell him which way the stag has gone. He is always dressed ingreen; but the fashion of his clothes is some five hundred years old.This is what we call Demon Meridianum--the noon-day spectre."

  "My worthy and reverend sir," said the Colonel, "I have lived atWoodstock many seasons, and have traversed the Chase at all hours. Trustme, what you hear from the villagers is the growth of their idle follyand superstition."

  "Colonel," replied Holdenough, "a negative proves nothing. Whatsignifies, craving your pardon, that you have not seen anything, be itearthly or be it of the other world, to detract from the evidence of ascore of people who have?--And besides, there is the Demon Nocturnum--the being that walketh by night; he has been among these Independentsand schismatics last night. Ay, Colonel, you may stare; but it is evenso--they may try whether he will mend their gifts, as they profanelycall them, of exposition and prayer. No, sir, I trow, to master the foulfiend there goeth some competent knowledge of theology, and anacquaintance of
the humane letters, ay, and a regular clerical educationand clerical calling."

  "I do not in the least doubt," said the Colonel, "the efficacy of yourqualifications to lay the devil; but still I think some odd mistake hasoccasioned this confusion amongst them, if there has any such in realityexisted. Desborough is a blockhead, to be sure; and Harrison is fanaticenough to believe anything. But there is Bletson, on the other hand, whobelieves nothing.--What do you know of this matter, good Master Mayor?"

  "In sooth, and it was Master Bletson who gave the first alarm," repliedthe magistrate; "or, at least, the first distinct one. You see, sir, Iwas in bed with my wife, and no one else; and I was as fast asleep as aman can desire to be at two hours after midnight, when, behold you, theycame knocking at my bedroom door, to tell me there was an alarm inWoodstock, and that the bell of the Lodge was ringing at that dead hourof the night as hard as ever it rung when it called the court todinner."

  "Well, but the cause of this alarm?" said the Colonel.

  "You shall hear, worthy Colonel, you shall hear," answered the Mayor,waving his hand with dignity; for he was one of those persons who willnot be hurried out of their own pace. "So Mrs. Mayor would havepersuaded me, in her love and affection, poor wretch, that to rise atsuch an hour out of my own warm bed, was like to bring on my oldcomplaint the lumbago, and that I should send the people to AldermanDutton.--Alderman Devil, Mrs. Mayor, said I;--I beg your reverence'spardon for using such a phrase--Do you think I am going to lie a-bedwhen the town is on fire, and the cavaliers up, and the devil to pay;--Ibeg pardon again, parson.--But here we are before the gate of thePalace; will it not please you to enter?"

  "I would first hear the end of your story," said the Colonel; "that is,Master Mayor, if it happens to have an end."

  "Every thing hath an end," said the Mayor, "and that which we call apudding hath two.--Your worship will forgive me for being facetious.Where was I?--Oh, I jumped out of bed, and put on my red plush breeches,with the blue nether stocks, for I always make a point of being dressedsuitably to my dignity, night and day, summer or winter, ColonelEverard; and I took the Constable along with me, in case the alarmshould be raised by night-walkers or thieves, and called up worthyMaster Holdenough out of his bed, in case it should turn out to be thedevil. And so I thought I was provided for the worst, and so away wecame; and, by and by, the soldiers who came to the town with MasterTomkins, who had been called to arms, came marching down to Woodstock asfast as their feet would carry them; so I gave our people the sign tolet them pass us, and out-march us, as it were, and this for a twofoldreason."

  "I will be satisfied," interrupted the Colonel, "with one good reason.You desired the red-coats should have the _first_ of the fray?"

  "True, sir, very true;--and also that they should have the _last_ of it,in respect that fighting is their especial business. However, we came onat a slow pace, as men who are determined to do their duty without fearor favour, when suddenly we saw something white haste away up the avenuetowards the town, when six of our constables and assistants fled atonce, as conceiving it to be an apparition called the White Woman ofWoodstock."

  "Look you there, Colonel," said Master Holdenough, "I told you therewere demons of more kinds than one, which haunt the ancient scenes ofroyal debauchery and cruelty."

  "I hope you stood your own ground, Master Mayor?" said the Colonel.

  "I--yes--most assuredly--that is, I did not, strictly speaking, keep myground; but the town-clerk and I retreated--retreated, Colonel, andwithout confusion or dishonour, and took post behind worthy MasterHoldenough, who, with the spirit of a lion, threw himself in the way ofthe supposed spectre, and attacked it with such a siserary of Latin asmight have scared the devil himself, and thereby plainly discovered thatit was no devil at all, nor white woman, neither woman of any colour,but worshipful Master Bletson, a member of the House of Commons, and oneof the commissioners sent hither upon this unhappy sequestration of theWood, Chase, and Lodge of Woodstock."

  "And this was all you saw of the demon?" said the Colonel.

  "Truly, yes," answered the Mayor; "and I had no wish to see more.However, we conveyed Master Bletson, as in duty bound, back to theLodge, and he was ever maundering by the way how that he met a party ofscarlet devils incarnate marching down to the Lodge; but, to my poorthinking, it must have been the Independent dragoons who had just passedus."

  "And more incarnate devils I would never wish to see," said Wildrake,who could remain silent no longer. His voice, so suddenly heard, showedhow much the Mayor's nerves were still alarmed, far he started andjumped aside with an alacrity of which no one would at first sightsuppose a man of his portly dignity to have been capable. Everardimposed silence on his intrusive attendant; and, desirous to hear theconclusion of this strange story, requested the Mayor to tell him howthe matter ended, and whether they stopped the supposed spectre.

  "Truly, worthy sir," said the Mayor, "Master Holdenough was quiteventurous upon confronting, as it were, the devil, and compelling him toappear under the real form of Master Joshua Bletson, member ofParliament for the borough of Littlefaith."

  "In sooth, Master Mayor," said the divine, "I were strangely ignorant ofmy own commission and its immunities, if I were to value opposing myselfto Satan, or any Independent in his likeness, all of whom, in the nameof Him I serve, I do defy, spit at, and trample under my feet; andbecause Master Mayor is something tedious, I will briefly inform yourhonour that we saw little of the Enemy that night, save what MasterBletson said in the first feeling of his terrors, and save what we mightcollect from the disordered appearance of the Honourable ColonelDesborough and Major-General Harrison."

  "And what plight were they in, I pray you?" demanded the Colonel.

  "Why, worthy sir, every one might see with half an eye that they hadbeen engaged in a fight wherein they had not been honoured with perfectvictory; seeing that General Harrison was stalking up and down theparlour, with his drawn sword in his hand, talking to himself, hisdoublet unbuttoned, his points untrussed, his garters loose, and like tothrow him down as he now and then trode on them, and gaping and grinninglike a mad player. And yonder sate Desborough with a dry pottle of sackbefore him, which he had just emptied, and which, though the element inwhich he trusted, had not restored him sense enough to speak, or courageenough to look over his shoulder. He had a Bible in his hand, forsooth,as if it would of itself make battle against the Evil One; but I peeredover his shoulder, and, alas! the good gentleman held the bottom of thepage uppermost. It was as if one of your musketeers, noble and valuedsir, were to present the butt of his piece at the enemy instead of themuzzle--ha, ha, ha! it was a sight to judge of schismatics by; both inpoint of head, and in point of heart, in point of skill, and in point ofcourage. Oh! Colonel, then was the time to see the true character of anauthorised pastor of souls over those unhappy men, who leap into thefold without due and legal authority, and will, forsooth, preach, teach,and exhort, and blasphemously term the doctrine of the Church saltlessporridge and dry chips!"

  "I have no doubt you were ready to meet the danger, reverend sir; but Iwould fain know of what nature it was, and from whence it was to beapprehended?"

  "Was it for me to make such inquiry?" said the clergyman, triumphantly."Is it for a brave soldier to number his enemies, or inquire from whatquarter they are to come? No, sir, I was there with match lighted,bullet in my mouth, and my harquebuss shouldered, to encounter as manydevils as hell could pour in, were they countless as motes in thesunbeam, and although they came from all points of the compass. ThePapists talk of the temptation of St. Anthony--pshaw! let them doubleall the myriads which the brain of a crazy Dutch painter hath invented,and you will find a poor Presbyterian divine--I will answer for one atleast,--who, not in his own strength, but his Master's, will receive theassault in such sort, that far from returning against him as againstyonder poor hound, day after day, and night after night, he will at oncepack them off as with a vengeance to the uttermost parts of Assyria!"

  "Still," sa
id the Colonel, "I pray to know whether you saw anything uponwhich to exercise your pious learning?"

  "Saw?" answered the divine; "no, truly, I saw nothing, nor did I lookfor anything. Thieves will not attack well-armed travellers, nor willdevils or evil spirits come against one who bears in his bosom the wordof truth, in the very language in which it was first dictated. No, sir,they shun a divine who can understand the holy text, as a crow is saidto keep wide of a gun loaded with hailshot."

  They had walked a little way back upon their road, to give time for thisconversation; and the Colonel, perceiving it was about to lead to nosatisfactory explanation of the real cause of alarm on the precedingnight, turned round, and observing it was time they should go to theLodge, began to move in that direction with his three companions.

  It had now become dark, and the towers of Woodstock arose high above theumbrageous shroud which the forest spread around the ancient andvenerable mansion. From one of the highest turrets, which could still bedistinguished as it rose against the clear blue sky, there gleamed alight like that of a candle within the building. The Mayor stopt short,and catching fast hold of the divine, and then of Colonel Everard,exclaimed, in a trembling and hasty, but suppressed tone,

  "Do you see yonder light?"

  "Ay, marry do I," said Colonel Everard; "and what does that matter?--alight in a garret-room of such an old mansion as Woodstock is no subjectof wonder, I trow."

  "But a light from Rosamond's Tower is surely so," said the Mayor.

  "True," said the Colonel, something surprised, when, after a carefulexamination, he satisfied himself that the worthy magistrate'sconjecture was right. "That is indeed Rosamond's Tower; and as thedrawbridge, by which it was accessible has been destroyed for centuries,it is hard to say what chance could have lighted a lamp in such aninaccessible place."

  "That light burns with no earthly fuel," said the Mayor; "neither fromwhale nor olive oil, nor bees-wax, nor mutton-suet either. I dealt inthese commodities, Colonel, before I went into my present line; and Ican assure you I could distinguish the sort of light they give, one fromanother, at a greater distance than yonder turret--Look you, that is noearthly flame.--See you not something blue and reddish upon the edges?--that bodes full well where it comes from.--Colonel, in my opinion we hadbetter go back to sup at the town, and leave the Devil and the red-coatsto settle their matters together for to-night; and then when we comeback the next morning, we will have a pull with the party that chancesto keep a-field."

  "You will do as you please, Master Mayor," said Everard, "but my dutyrequires me that I should see the Commissioners to-night."

  "And mine requires me to see the foul Fiend," said Master Holdenough,"if he dare make himself visible to me. I wonder not that, knowing whois approaching, he betakes himself to the very citadel, the inner andthe last defences of this ancient and haunted mansion. He is dainty, Iwarrant you, and must dwell where is a relish of luxury and murder aboutthe walls of his chamber. In yonder turret sinned Rosamond, and inyonder turret she suffered; and there she sits, or more likely, theEnemy in her shape, as I have heard true men of Woodstock tell. I waiton you, good Colonel--Master Mayor will do as he pleases. The strong manhath fortified himself in his dwelling-house, but lo, there comethanother stronger than he."

  "For me," said the Mayor, "who am as unlearned as I am unwarlike, I willnot engage either--with the Powers of the Earth, or the Prince of thePowers of the Air, and I would we were again at Woodstock;--and hark ye,good fellow," slapping Wildrake on the shoulder, "I will bestow on theea shilling wet and a shilling dry if thou wilt go back with me."

  "Gadzookers, Master Mayor," said, Wildrake, neither flattered by themagistrate's familiarity of address, nor captivated by his munificence--"I wonder who the devil made you and me fellows? and, besides, do youthink I would go back to Woodstock with your worshipful cods-head, when,by good management, I may get a peep of fair Rosamond, and see whethershe was that choice and incomparable piece of ware, which the world hasbeen told of by rhymers and ballad-makers?"

  "Speak less lightly and wantonly, friend," said the divine; "we are toresist the devil that he may flee from us, and not to tamper with him,or enter into his counsels, or traffic with the merchandise of his greatVanity Fair."

  "Mind what the good man says, Wildrake," said the Colonel; "and takeheed another time how thou dost suffer thy wit to outrun discretion."

  "I am beholden to the reverend gentleman for his advice," answeredWildrake, upon whose tongue it was difficult to impose any curbwhatever, even when his own safety rendered it most desirable. "But,gadzookers, let him have had what experience he will in fighting withthe Devil, he never saw one so black as I had a tussle with--not ahundred years ago."

  "How, friend," said the clergyman, who understood every thing literallywhen apparitions were mentioned, "have you had so late a visitation ofSatan? Believe me, then, that I wonder why thou darest to entertain hisname so often and so lightly, as I see thou dost use it in thy ordinarydiscourse. But when and where didst thou see the Evil One?"

  Everard hastily interposed, lest by something yet more strongly alludingto Cromwell, his imprudent squire should, in mere wantonness, betray hisinterview with the General. "The young man raves," he said, "of a dreamwhich he had the other night, when he and I slept together in VictorLee's chamber, belonging to the Ranger's apartments at the Lodge."

  "Thanks for help at a pinch, good patron," said Wildrake, whisperinginto Everard's ear, who in vain endeavoured to shake him off,--"a fibnever failed a fanatic."

  "You, also, spoke something too lightly of these matters, consideringthe work which we have in hand, worthy Colonel," said the Presbyteriandivine. "Believe me, the young man, thy servant, was more likely to seevisions than to dream merely idle dreams in that apartment; for I havealways heard, that, next to Rosamond's Tower, in which, as I said, sheplayed the wanton, and was afterwards poisoned by Queen Eleanor, VictorLee's chamber was the place in the Lodge of Woodstock more peculiarlythe haunt of evil spirits.--I pray you, young man, tell me this dream orvision of yours."

  "With all my heart, sir," said Wildrake--then addressing his patron, whobegan to interfere, he said, "Tush, sir, you have had the discourse foran hour, and why should not I hold forth in my turn? By this darkness,if you keep me silent any longer, I will turn Independent preacher, andstand up in your despite for the freedom of private judgment.--And so,reverend sir, I was dreaming of a carnal divertisement called abull-baiting; and methought they were venturing dogs at head, as merrilyas e'er I saw them at Tutbury bull-running; and methought I heard someone say, there was the Devil come to have a sight of the bull-ring.Well, I thought that, gadswoons, I would have a peep at his InfernalMajesty. So I looked, and there was a butcher in greasy woollen, withhis steel by his side; but he was none of the Devil. And there was adrunken cavalier, with his mouth full of oaths, and his stomach full ofemptiness, and a gold-laced waistcoat in a very dilapidated condition,and a ragged hat,--with a piece of a feather in it; and he was none ofthe Devil neither. And here was a miller, his hands dusty with meal, andevery atom of it stolen; and there was a vintner, his green apronstained with wine, and every drop of it sophisticated; but neither wasthe old gentleman I looked for to be detected among these artisans ofiniquity. At length, sir, I saw a grave person with cropped hair, a pairof longish and projecting ears, a band as broad as a slobbering bibunder his chin, a brown coat surmounted by a Geneva cloak, and I had oldNicholas at once in his genuine paraphernalia, by--."

  "Shame, shame!" said Colonel Everard. "What! behave thus to an oldgentleman and a divine!"

  "Nay, let him proceed," said the minister, with perfect equanimity: "ifthy friend, or secretary, is gibing, I must have less patience thanbecomes my profession, if I could not bear an idle jest, and forgive himwho makes it. Or if, on the other hand, the Enemy has really presentedhimself to the young man in such a guise as he intimates, whereforeshould we be surprised that he, who can take upon him the form of anangel of light, should be able to assum
e that of a frail and peaceablemortal, whose spiritual calling and profession ought, indeed, to inducehim to make his life an example to others; but whose conduct,nevertheless, such is the imperfection of our unassisted nature,sometimes rather presents us with a warning of what we should shun?"

  "Now, by the mass, honest domine--I mean reverend sir--I crave you athousand pardons," said Wildrake, penetrated by the quietness andpatience of the presbyter's rebuke. "By St. George, if quiet patiencewill do it, thou art fit to play a game at foils with the Devil himself,and I would be contented to hold stakes."

  As he concluded an apology, which was certainly not uncalled for, andseemed to be received in perfectly good part, they approached so closeto the exterior door of the Lodge, that they were challenged with theemphatic _Stand_, by a sentinel who mounted guard there. Colonel Everardreplied, _A friend_; and the sentinel repeating his command, "Stand,friend," proceeded to call the corporal of the guard. The corporal cameforth, and at the same time turned out his guard. Colonel Everard gavehis name and designation, as well as those of his companions, on whichthe corporal said, "he doubted not there would be orders for his instantadmission; but, in the first place, Master Tomkins must be consulted,that he might learn their honours' mind."

  "How, sir!" said the Colonel, "do you, knowing who I am, presume to keepme on the outside of your post?"

  "Not if your honour pleases to enter," said the corporal, "andundertakes to be my warranty; but such are the orders of my post."

  "Nay, then, do your duty," said the Colonel; "but are the cavaliers up,or what is the matter, that you keep so close and strict a watch?"

  The fellow gave no distinct answer, but muttered between his mustachessomething about the Enemy, and the roaring Lion who goeth about seekingwhom he may devour. Presently afterwards Tomkins appeared, followed bytwo servants, bearing lights in great standing brass candlesticks. Theymarched before Colonel Everard and his party, keeping as close to eachother as two cloves of the same orange, and starting from time to time;and shuddering as they passed through sundry intricate passages, theyled up a large and ample wooden staircase, the banisters, rail, andlining of which were executed in black oak, and finally into a longsaloon, or parlour, where there was a prodigious fire, and about twelvecandles of the largest size distributed in sconces against the wall.There were seated the Commissioners, who now held in their power theancient mansion and royal domain of Woodstock.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH.

  The bloody bear, an independent beast, Unlick'd to forms, in groans his hate express'd--

  Next him the buffoon ape, as atheists use, Mimick'd all sects, and had his own to choose. HIND AND PANTHER.

  The strong light in the parlour which we have described, served toenable Everard easily to recognise his acquaintances, Desborough,Harrison, and Bletson, who had assembled round an oak table of largedimensions, placed near the blazing chimney, on which were arrangedwine, and ale, and materials for smoking, then the general indulgence ofthe time. There was a species of movable cupboard set betwixt the tableand the door, calculated originally for a display of plate upon grandoccasions, but at present only used as a screen; which purpose it servedso effectually, that, ere he had coasted around it, Everard heard thefollowing fragment of what Desborough was saying, in his strong coarsevoice:--"Sent him to share with us, I'se warrant ye--It was always hisExcellency my brother-in-law's way--if he made a treat for five friends,he would invite more than the table could hold--I have known him askthree men to eat two eggs."

  "Hush, hush," said Bletson; and the servants, making their appearancefrom behind the tall cupboard, announced Colonel Everard. It may not beuninteresting to the reader to have a description, of the party intowhich he now entered.

  Desborough was a stout, bull-necked man, of middle-size, with heavyvulgar features, grizzled bushy eyebrows, and walleyes. The flourish ofhis powerful relative's fortunes had burst forth in the finery of hisdress, which was much more ornamented than was usual among theroundheads. There was embroidery on his cloak, and lace upon his band;his hat displayed a feather with a golden clasp, and all his habilimentswere those of a cavalier, or follower of the court, rather than theplain dress of a parliamentarian officer. But, Heaven knows, there waslittle of courtlike grace or dignity in the person or demeanour of theindividual, who became his fine suit as the hog on the sign-post doeshis gilded armour. It was not that he was positively deformed, ormisshaped, for, taken in detail, the figure was well enough. But hislimbs seemed to act upon different and contradictory principles. Theywere not, as the play says, in a concatenation accordingly;--the righthand moved as if it were upon bad terms with the left, and the legsshowed an inclination to foot it in different and opposite directions.In short, to use an extravagant comparison, the members of ColonelDesborough seemed rather to resemble the disputatious representatives ofa federative congress, than the well-ordered union of the orders of thestate, in a firm and well-compacted monarchy, where each holds his ownplace, and all obey the dictates of a common head.

  General Harrison, the second of the Commissioners, was a tall, thin,middle-aged man, who had risen into his high situation in the army, andhis intimacy with Cromwell, by his dauntless courage in the field, andthe popularity he had acquired by his exalted enthusiasm amongst themilitary saints, sectaries, and Independents, who composed the strengthof the existing army. Harrison was of mean extraction, and bred up tohis father's employment of a butcher. Nevertheless, his appearance,though coarse, was not vulgar, like that of Desborough, who had so muchthe advantage of him in birth and education. He had a masculine heightand strength of figure, was well made and in his manner announced arough military character, which might be feared, but could not easilybecome the object of contempt or ridicule. His aquiline nose and darkblack eyes set off to some advantage a countenance otherwise irregular,and the wild enthusiasm that sometimes sparkled in them as he dilated onhis opinions to others, and often seemed to slumber under his long darkeyelashes as he mused upon them himself, gave something strikingly wild,and even noble to his aspect. He was one of the chief leaders of thosewho were called Fifth-Monarchy men, who, going even beyond the generalfanaticism of the age, presumptuously interpreted the Book of theRevelations after their own fancies, considered that the second Adventof the Messiah, and the Millenium, or reign of the Saints upon earth,was close at hand, and that they themselves, illuminated, as theybelieved, with the power of foreseeing these approaching events, werethe chosen instruments for the establishment of the New Reign, or FifthMonarchy, as it was called, and were fated also to win its honours,whether celestial or terrestrial.

  When this spirit of enthusiasm, which operated like a partial insanity,was not immediately affecting Harrison's mind, he was a shrewd worldlyman, and a good soldier; one who missed no opportunity of mending hisfortune, and who, in expecting the exaltation of the Fifth Monarchy,was, in the meanwhile, a ready instrument for the establishment of theLord-General's supremacy. Whether it was owing to his early occupation,and habits of indifference to pain or bloodshed acquired in theshambles, to natural disposition and want of feeling, or, finally, tothe awakened character of his enthusiasm, which made him look upon thosewho opposed him, as opposing the Divine will, and therefore meriting nofavour or mercy, is not easy to say; but all agreed, that after avictory, or the successful storm of a town, Harrison was one of the mostcruel and pitiless men in Cromwell's army; always urging some misappliedtext to authorize the continued execution of the fugitives, andsometimes even putting to death those who had surrendered themselvesprisoners. It was said, that at times the recollection of some of thosecruelties troubled his conscience, and disturbed the dreams ofbeatification in which his imagination indulged.

  When Everard entered the apartment, this true representative of thefanatic soldiers of the day, who filled those ranks and regiments whichCromwell had politically kept on foot, while he procured the reductionof those in which the Presbyterian interest pred
ominated, was seated alittle apart from the others, his legs crossed, and stretched out atlength towards the fire, his head resting on his elbow, and turnedupwards, as if studying, with the most profound gravity, the half-seencarving of the Gothic roof.

  Bletson remains to be mentioned, who, in person and figure, wasdiametrically different from the other two. There was neither fopperynor slovenliness in his exterior, nor had he any marks of militaryservice or rank about his person. A small walking rapier seemed merelyworn as a badge of his rank as a gentleman, without his hand having theleast purpose of becoming acquainted with the hilt, or his eye with theblade. His countenance was thin and acute, marked with lines whichthought rather than age had traced upon it; and a habitual sneer on hiscountenance, even, when he least wished to express contempt on hisfeatures, seemed to assure the individual addressed, that in Bletson heconversed with a person of intellect far superior to his own. This was atriumph of intellect only, however; for on all occasions of differencerespecting speculative opinions, and indeed on all controversieswhatsoever, Bletson avoided the ultimate _ratio_ of blows and knocks.

  Yet this peaceful gentleman had found himself obliged to servepersonally in the Parliamentary army at the commencement of the CivilWar, till happening unluckily to come in contact with the fiery PrinceRupert, his retreat was judged so precipitate, that it required all theshelter that his friends could afford, to keep him free of animpeachment or a court-martial. But as Bletson spoke well, and withgreat effect in the House of Commons, which was his natural sphere, andwas on that account high in the estimation of his party, his behaviourat Edgehill was passed over, and he continued to take an active share inall the political events of that bustling period, though he faced notagain the actual front of war.

  Bletson's theoretical politics had long inclined him to espouse theopinions of Harrington and others, who adopted the visionary idea ofestablishing a pure democratical republic in so extensive a country asBritain. This was a rash theory, where there is such an infinitedifference betwixt ranks, habits, education, and morals--where there issuch an immense disproportion betwixt the wealth of individuals--andwhere a large portion of the inhabitants consist of the inferior classesof the large towns and manufacturing districts--men unfitted to bearthat share in the direction of a state, which must be exercised by themembers of a republic in the proper sense of the word. Accordingly, assoon as the experiment was made, it became obvious that no such form ofgovernment could be adopted with the smallest chance of stability; andthe question came only to be, whether the remnant, or, as it wasvulgarly called, the Rump of the Long Parliament, now reduced by theseclusion of so many of the members to a few scores of persons, shouldcontinue, in spite of their unpopularity, to rule the affairs ofBritain? Whether they should cast all loose by dissolving themselves,and issuing writs to convoke a new Parliament, the composition of whichno one could answer for, any more than for the measures they might takewhen assembled? Or lastly, whether Cromwell, as actually happened, wasnot to throw the sword into the balance, and boldly possess himself ofthat power which the remnant of the Parliament were unable to hold, andyet afraid to resign?

  Such being the state of parties, the Council of State, in distributingthe good things in their gift, endeavoured to soothe and gratify thearmy, as a beggar flings crusts to a growling mastiff. In this viewDesborough had been created a Commissioner in the Woodstock matter togratify Cromwell, Harrison to soothe the fierce Fifth-Monarchy men, andBletson as a sincere republican, and one of their own leaven.

  But if they supposed Bletson had the least intention of becoming amartyr to his republicanism, or submitting to any serious loss onaccount of it, they much mistook the man. He entertained theirprinciples sincerely and not the less that they were foundimpracticable; for the miscarriage of his experiment no more convertsthe political speculator, than the explosion of a retort undeceives analchymist. But Bletson was quite prepared to submit to Cromwell, or anyone else who might be possessed of the actual authority. He was a readysubject in practice to the powers existing, and made little differencebetwixt various kinds of government, holding in theory all to be nearlyequal in imperfection, so soon as they diverged from the model ofHarrington's Oceana. Cromwell had already been tampering with him, likewax between his finger and thumb, and which he was ready shortly to sealwith, smiling at the same time to himself when he beheld the Council ofState giving rewards to Bletson, as their faithful adherent, while hehimself was secure of his allegiance, how soon soever the expectedchange of government should take place.

  But Bletson was still more attached to his metaphysical than hispolitical creed, and carried his doctrines of the perfectibility ofmankind as far as he did those respecting the conceivable perfection ofa model of government; and as in the one case he declared against allpower which did not emanate from the people themselves, so, in his moralspeculations, he was unwilling to refer any of the phenomena of natureto a final cause. When pushed, indeed, very hard, Bletson was compelledto mutter some inarticulate and unintelligible doctrines concerning an_Animus Mundi_, or Creative Power in the works of Nature, by which sheoriginally called into existence, and still continues to preserve, herworks. To this power, he said, some of the purest metaphysiciansrendered a certain degree of homage; nor was he himself inclinedabsolutely to censure those, who, by the institution of holydays, choraldances, songs, and harmless feasts and libations, might be disposed tocelebrate the great goddess Nature; at least dancing, singing, feasting,and sporting, being conformable things to both young and old, they mightas well sport, dance, and feast, in honour of such appointed holydays,as under any other pretext. But then this moderate show of religion wasto be practised under such exceptions as are admitted by the Highgateoath; and no one was to be compelled to dance, drink, sing, or feast,whose taste did not happen to incline them to such divertisements; norwas any one to be obliged to worship the creative power, whether underthe name of the _Animus Mundi_, or any other whatsoever. Theinterference of the Deity in the affairs of mankind he entirelydisowned, having proved to his own satisfaction that the idea originatedentirely in priestcraft. In short, with the shadowy metaphysicalexception aforesaid, Mr. Joshua Bletson of Darlington, member forLittlefaith, came as near the predicament of an atheist, as it isperhaps possible for a man to do. But we say this with the necessarysalvo; for we have known many like Bletson, whose curtains have beenshrewdly shaken by superstition, though their fears were unsanctioned byany religious faith. The devils, we are assured, believe and tremble;but on earth there are many, who, in worse plight than even the naturalchildren of perdition, tremble without believing, and fear even whilethey blaspheme.

  It follows, of course, that nothing could be treated with more scorn byMr. Bletson, than the debates about Prelacy and Presbytery, aboutPresbytery and Independency, about Quakers and Anabaptists,Muggletonians and Brownists, and all the various sects with which theCivil War had commenced, and by which its dissensions were stillcontinued. "It was," he said, "as if beasts of burden should quarrelamongst themselves about the fashion of their halters and pack-saddles,instead of embracing a favourable opportunity of throwing them aside."Other witty and pithy remarks he used to make when time and placesuited; for instance, at the club called the Rota, frequented by St.John, and established by Harrington, for the free discussion ofpolitical and religious subjects.

  But when Bletson was out of this academy, or stronghold of philosophy,he was very cautious how he carried his contempt of the generalprejudice in favour of religion and Christianity further than an impliedobjection or a sneer. If he had an opportunity of talking in privatewith an ingenuous and intelligent youth, he sometimes attempted to makea proselyte, and showed much address in bribing the vanity ofinexperience, by suggesting that a mind like his ought to spurn theprejudices impressed upon it in childhood; and when assuming the _latusclavus_ of reason, assuring him that such as he, laying aside the_bulla_ of juvenile incapacity, as Bletson called it, should proceed toexamine and decide for himself. It frequently happene
d, that the youthwas induced to adopt the doctrines in whole, or in part, of the sage whohad seen his natural genius, and who had urged him to exert it inexamining, detecting, and declaring for himself, and thus flattery gaveproselytes to infidelity, which could not have been gained by all thepowerful eloquence or artful sophistry of the infidel.

  These attempts to extend the influence of what was called freethinkingand philosophy, were carried on, as we have hinted, with a cautiondictated by the timidity of the philosopher's disposition. He wasconscious his doctrines were suspected, and his proceedings watched, bythe two principal sects of Prelatists and Presbyterians, who, howeverinimical to each other, were still more hostile to one who was anopponent, not only to a church establishment of any kind, but to everydenomination of Christianity. He found it more easy to shroud himselfamong the Independents, whose demands were for a general liberty ofconscience, or an unlimited toleration, and whose faith, differing inall respects and particulars, was by some pushed into such wild errors,as to get totally beyond the bounds of every species of Christianity,and approach very near to infidelity itself, as extremes of each kindare said to approach each other. Bletson mixed a good deal among thosesectaries; and such was his confidence in his own logic and address,that he is supposed to have entertained hopes of bringing to hisopinions in time the enthusiastic Vane, as well as the no lessenthusiastic Harrison, provided he could but get them to resign theirvisions of a Fifth Monarchy, and induce them to be contented with areign of Philosophers in England for the natural period of their lives,instead of the reign of the Saints during the Millenium.

  Such was the singular group into which Everard was now introduced;showing, in their various opinions, upon how many devious coasts humannature may make shipwreck, when she has once let go her hold on theanchor which religion has given her to lean upon; the acute self-conceitand worldly learning of Bletson--the rash and ignorant conclusions ofthe fierce and under-bred Harrison, leading them into the oppositeextremes of enthusiasm and infidelity, while Desborough,constitutionally stupid, thought nothing about religion at all; andwhile the others were active in making sail on different but equallyerroneous courses, he might be said to perish like a vessel, whichsprings a leak and founders in the roadstead. It was wonderful to beholdwhat a strange variety of mistakes and errors, on the part of the Kingand his Ministers, on the part of the Parliament and their leaders, onthe part of the allied kingdoms of Scotland and England towards eachother, had combined to rear up men of such dangerous opinions andinterested characters among the arbiters of the destiny of Britain.

  Those who argue for party's sake, will see all the faults on the oneside, without deigning to look at those on the other; those who studyhistory for instruction, will perceive that nothing but the want ofconcession on either side, and the deadly height to which the animosityof the King's and Parliament's parties had arisen, could have so totallyoverthrown the well-poised balance of the English constitution. But wehasten to quit political reflections, the rather that ours, we believe,will please neither Whig nor Tory.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE TWELFTH.

  Three form a College--an you give us four, Let him bring his share with him. BRAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

  Mr. Bletson arose and paid his respects to Colonel Everard, with theease and courtesy of a gentleman of the time; though on every accountgrieved at his intrusion, as a religious man who held his free-thinkingprinciples in detestation, and would effectually prevent his conversionof Harrison, and even of Desborough, if any thing could be moulded outof such a clod, to the worship of the _Animus Mundi_. Moreover, Bletsonknew Everard to be a man of steady probity, and by no means disposed toclose with a scheme on which he had successfully sounded the other two,and which was calculated to assure the Commissioners of some littleprivate indemnification for the trouble they were to give themselves inthe public business. The philosopher was yet less pleased, when he sawthe magistrate the pastor who had met him in his flight of the precedingevening, when he had been seen, _parma non bene relicta_, with cloak anddoublet left behind him.

  The presence of Colonel Everard was as unpleasing to Desborough as toBletson: but the former having no philosophy in him, nor an idea that itwas possible for any man to resist helping himself out of untold money,was chiefly embarrassed by the thought, that the plunder which theymight be able to achieve out of their trust, might, by this unwelcomeaddition to their number, be divided into four parts instead of three;and this reflection added to the natural awkwardness with which hegrumbled forth a sort of welcome, addressed to Everard.

  As for Harrison, he remained like one on higher thoughts intent; hisposture unmoved, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as before, and in no wayindicating the least consciousness that the company had been more thandoubled around him.

  Meantime, Everard took his place at the table, as a man who assumed hisown right, and pointed to his companions to sit down nearer the foot ofthe board. Wildrake so far misunderstood his signals, as to sit downabove the Mayor; but rallying his recollection at a look from hispatron, he rose and took his place lower, whistling, however, as hewent, a sound at which the company stared, as at a freedom highlyunbecoming. To complete his indecorum, he seized upon a pipe, andfilling it from a large tobacco-box, was soon immersed in a cloud of hisown raising; from which a hand shortly after emerged, seized on theblack-jack of ale, withdrew it within the vapoury sanctuary, and, aftera potential draught, replaced it upon the table, its owner beginning torenew the cloud which his intermitted exercise of the tube had almostallowed to subside.

  Nobody made any observation on his conduct, out of respect, probably, toColonel Everard, who bit his lip, but continued silent; aware thatcensure might extract some escapade more unequivocally characteristic ofa cavalier, from his refractory companion. As silence seemed awkward,and the others made no advances to break it, beyond the ordinarysalutation, Colonel Everard at length said, "I presume, gentlemen, thatyou are somewhat surprised at my arrival here, and thus intruding myselfinto your meeting?"

  "Why the dickens should we be surprised, Colonel?" said Desborough; "weknow his Excellency, my brother-in-law Noll's--I mean my Lord Cromwell'sway, of overquartering his men in the towns he marches through. Thouhast obtained a share in our commission?"

  "And in that," said Bletson, smiling and bowing, "the Lord-General hasgiven us the most acceptable colleague that could have been added to ournumber. No doubt your authority for joining with us must be underwarrant of the Council of State?"

  "Of that, gentlemen," said the Colonel, "I will presently adviseyou."--He took out his warrant accordingly, and was about to communicatethe contents; but observing that there were three or four half-emptyflasks upon the table, that Desborough looked more stupid than usual,and that the philosopher's eyes were reeling in his head,notwithstanding the temperance of Bletson's usual habits, he concludedthat they had been fortifying themselves against the horrors of thehaunted mansion, by laying in a store of what is called Dutch courage,and therefore prudently resolved to postpone his more important businesswith them till the cooler hour of morning. He, therefore, instead ofpresenting the General's warrant superseding their commission, contentedhimself with replying,--"My business has, of course, some reference toyour proceedings here. But here is--excuse my curiosity--a reverendgentleman," pointing to Holdenough, "who has told me that you are sostrangely embarrassed here, as to require both the civil and spiritualauthority to enable you to keep possession of Woodstock."

  "Before we go into that matter," said Bletson, blushing up to the eyesat the recollection of his own fears, so manifestly displayed, yet soinconsistent with his principles, "I should like to know who this otherstranger is, who has come with the worthy magistrate, and the no lessworthy Presbyterian?"

  "Meaning me?" said Wildrake, laying his pipe aside; "Gadzooks, the timehath been that I could have answered the question with a better title;but at present I am only his honour's poor clerk, or secretary,whichever is the curr
ent phrase."

  "'Fore George, my lively blade, thou art a frank fellow of thy tattle,"said Desborough. "There is my secretary Tomkins, whom men sillily enoughcall Fibbet, and the honourable Lieutenant-General Harrison's secretaryBibbet, who are now at supper below stairs, that durst not for theirears speak a phrase above their breath in the presence of their betters,unless to answer a question."

  "Yes, Colonel Everard," said the philosopher, with his quiet smile,glad, apparently, to divert the conversation from the topic of lastnight's alarm, and recollections which humbled his self-love andself-satisfaction,--"yes; and when Master Fibbet and Master Bibbet _do_speak, their affirmations are as much in a common mould of mutualattestation, as their names would accord in the verses of a poet. IfMaster Fibbet happens to tell a fiction, Master Bibbet swears it astruth. If Master Bibbet chances to have gotten drunk in the fear of theLord, Master Fibbet swears he is sober. I have called my own secretaryGibbet, though his name chances to be only Gibeon, a worthy Israelite atyour service, but as pure a youth as ever picked a lamb-bone at Paschal.But I call him Gibbet, merely to make up the holy trefoil with anotherrhyme. This squire of thine, Colonel Everard, looks as if he might beworthy to be coupled with the rest of the fraternity."

  "Not I, truly," said the cavalier; "I'll be coupled with no Jew that wasever whelped, and no Jewess neither."

  "Scorn not for that, young man," said the philosopher; "the Jews are, inpoint of religion, the elder brethren, you know."

  "The Jews older than the Christians?" said Desborough, "'fore George,they will have thee before the General Assembly, Bletson, if thouventurest to say so."

  Wildrake laughed without ceremony at the gross ignorance of Desborough,and was joined by a sniggling response from behind the cupboard, which,when inquired into, proved to be produced by the serving-men. Theseworthies, timorous as their betters, when they were supposed to haveleft the room, had only withdrawn to their present place of concealment.

  "How now, ye rogues," said Bletson, angrily; "do you not know your dutybetter?"

  "We beg your worthy honour's pardon," said one of the men, "but we darednot go down stairs without a light."

  "A light, ye cowardly poltroons?" said the philosopher; "what--to showwhich of you looks palest when a rat squeaks?--but take a candlestickand begone, you cowardly villains! the devils you are so much afraid ofmust be but paltry kites, if they hawk at such bats as you are."

  The servants, without replying, took up one of the candlesticks, andprepared to retreat, Trusty Tomkins at the head of the troop, whensuddenly, as they arrived at the door of the parlour, which had beenleft half open, it was shut violently. The three terrified domesticstumbled back into the middle of the room, as if a shot had beendischarged in their face, and all who were at the table started to theirfeet.

  Colonel Everard was incapable of a moment's fear, even if any thingfrightful had been seen; but he remained stationary, to see what hiscompanions would do, and to get at the bottom, if possible, of the causeof their alarm upon an occasion so trifling. The philosopher seemed tothink that _he_ was the person chiefly concerned to show manhood on theoccasion.

  He walked to the door accordingly, murmuring at the cowardice of theservants; but at such a snail's pace, that it seemed he would mostwillingly have been anticipated by any one whom his reproaches hadroused to exertion. "Cowardly blockheads!" he said at last, seizing holdof the handle of the door, but without turning it effectually round--"dare you not open a door?"--(still fumbling with the lock)--"dare younot go down a stair-case without a light? Here, bring me the candle, youcowardly villains!--By Heaven, something sighs on the outside!"

  As he spoke, he let go the handle of the parlour door, and stepped backa pace or two into the apartment, with cheeks as pale as the band hewore.

  "_Deus adjutor meus_!" said the Presbyterian clergyman, rising from hisseat. "Give place, sir," addressing Bletson; "it would seem I know moreof this matter than thou, and I bless Heaven I am armed for theconflict."

  Bold as a grenadier about to mount a breach, yet with the same belief inthe existence of a great danger to be encountered, as well as the samereliance in the goodness of his cause, the worthy man stepped before thephilosophical Bletson, and taking a light from a sconce in one hand,quietly opened the door with the other, and standing in the threshold,said, "Here is nothing!"

  "And who expected to see any thing," said Bletson, "excepting thoseterrified oafs, who take fright at every puff of wind that whistlesthrough the passages of this old dungeon?"

  "Mark you, Master Tomkins," said one of the waiting-men in a whisper tothe steward,--"See how boldly the minister pressed forward before all ofthem. Ah! Master Tomkins, our parson is the real commissioned officer ofthe church--your lay-preachers are no better than a parcel of club-menand volunteers."

  "Follow me those who list," said Master Holdenough, "or go before methose who choose, I will walk through the habitable places of this housebefore I leave it, and satisfy myself whether Satan hath really mingledhimself among these dreary dens of ancient wickedness, or whether, likethe wicked of whom holy David speaketh, we are afraid, and flee when noone pursueth."

  Harrison, who had heard these words, sprung from his seat, and drawinghis sword, exclaimed, "Were there as many fiends in the house as thereare hairs on my head, upon this cause I will charge them up to theirvery trenches!"

  So saying, he brandished his weapon, and pressed to the head of thecolumn, where he moved side by side with the minister. The Mayor ofWoodstock next joined the body, thinking himself safer perhaps in thecompany of his pastor; and the whole train moved forward in close order,accompanied by the servants bearing lights, to search the Lodge for somecause of that panic with which they seemed to be suddenly seized.

  "Nay, take me with you, my friends," said Colonel Everard, who hadlooked on in surprise, and was now about to follow the party, whenBletson laid hold on his cloak, and begged him to remain.

  "You see, my good Colonel," he said, affecting a courage which hisshaking voice belied, "here are only you and I and honest Desboroughleft behind in garrison, while all the others are absent on a sally. Wemust not hazard the whole troops in one sortie--that wereunmilitary--Ha, ha, ha!"

  "In the name of Heaven, what means all this?" said Everard. "I heard afoolish tale about apparitions as I came this way, and now I find youall half mad with fear, and cannot get a word of sense among so many ofyou. Fie, Colonel Desborough--fie, Master Bletson--try to composeyourselves, and let me know, in Heaven's name, the cause of all thisdisturbance. One would be apt to think your brains were turned."

  "And so mine well may," said Desborough, "ay, and overturned too, sincemy bed last night was turned upside down, and I was placed for tenminutes heels uppermost, and head downmost, like a bullock going to beshod."

  "What means this nonsense, Master Bletson?--Desborough must have had thenightmare."

  "No, faith, Colonel; the goblins, or whatever else they were, had beenfavourable to honest Desborough, for they reposed the whole of hisperson on that part of his body which--Hark, did you not hearsomething?--is the central point of gravity, namely, his head."

  "Did you see any thing to alarm you?" said the Colonel.

  "Nothing," said Bletson; "but we heard hellish noises, as all our peopledid; and I, believing little of ghosts and apparitions, concluded thecavaliers were taking us at advantage; so, remembering Rainsborough'sfate, I e'en jumped the window, and ran to Woodstock, to call thesoldiers to the rescue of Harrison and Desborough."

  "And did you not first go to see what the danger was?"

  "Ah, my good friend, you forget that I laid down my commission at thetime of the self-denying ordinance. It would have been quiteinconsistent with my duty as a Parliament-man to be brawling amidst aset of ruffians, without any military authority. No--when the Parliamentcommanded me to sheath my sword, Colonel, I have too much veneration fortheir authority to be found again with it drawn in my hand."

  "But the Parliament," said Desborough, ha
stily, "did not command you touse your heels when your hands could have saved a man from choking. Oddsdickens! you might have stopped when you saw my bed canted heelsuppermost, and me half stifled in the bed-clothes--you might, I say,have stopped and lent a hand to put it to rights, instead of jumping outof the window, like a new-shorn sheep, so soon as you had run across myroom."

  "Nay, worshipful Master Desborough," said Bletson, winking at Everard,to show that he was playing on his thick-sculled colleague, "how could Itell your particular mode of reposing?--there are many tastes--I haveknown men who slept by choice on a slope or angle of forty-five."

  "Yes, but did ever a man sleep standing on his head, except by miracle?"said Desborough.

  "Now, as to miracles"--said the philosopher, confident in the presenceof Everard, besides that an opportunity of scoffing at religion reallyin some degree diverted his fear--"I leave these out of the question,seeing that the evidence on such subjects seems as little qualified tocarry conviction as a horse-hair to land a leviathan."

  A loud clap of thunder, or a noise as formidable, rang through the Lodgeas the scoffer had ended, which struck him pale and motionless, and madeDesborough throw himself on his knees, and repeat exclamations andprayers in much admired confusion.

  "There must be contrivance here," exclaimed Everard; and snatching oneof the candles from a sconce, he rushed out of the apartment, littleheeding the entreaties of the philosopher, who, in the extremity of hisdistress, conjured him by the _Animus Mundi_ to remain to the assistanceof a distressed philosopher endangered by witches, and a Parliament-manassaulted by ruffians. As for Desborough, he only gaped like a clown ina pantomime; and, doubtful whether to follow or stop, his naturalindolence prevailed, and he sat still.

  When on the landing-place of the stairs, Everard paused a moment toconsider which was the best course to take. He heard the voices of mentalking fast and loud, like people who wish to drown their fears, in thelower story; and aware that nothing could be discovered by those whoseinquiries were conducted in a manner so noisy, he resolved to proceed ina different direction, and examine the second floor, which he had nowgained.

  He had known every corner, both of the inhabited and uninhabited part ofthe mansion, and availed himself of the candle to traverse two or threeintricate passages, which he was afraid he might not remember withsufficient accuracy. This movement conveyed him to a sort of_oeil-de-boeuf_, an octagon vestibule, or small hall, from which variousrooms opened. Amongst these doors, Everard selected that which led to avery long, narrow, and dilapidated gallery, built in the time of HenryVIII., and which, running along the whole south-west side of thebuilding, communicated at different points with the rest of the mansion.This he thought was likely to be the post occupied by those who proposedto act the sprites upon the occasion; especially as its length and shapegave him some idea that it was a spot where the bold thunder might inmany ways be imitated.

  Determined to ascertain the truth if possible, he placed his light on atable in the vestibule, and applied himself to open the door into thegallery. At this point he found himself strongly opposed either by abolt drawn, or, as he rather conceived, by somebody from withinresisting his attempt. He was induced to believe the latter, because theresistance slackened and was renewed, like that of human strength,instead of presenting the permanent opposition of an inanimate obstacle.Though Everard was a strong and active young man, he exhausted hisstrength in the vain attempt to open the door; and having paused to takebreath, was about to renew his efforts with foot and shoulder, and tocall at the same time for assistance, when to his surprise, on againattempting the door more gently, in order to ascertain if possible wherethe strength of the opposing obstacle was situated, he found it gave wayto a very slight impulse, some impediment fell broken to the ground, andthe door flew wide open. The gust of wind, occasioned by the suddenopening of the door, blew out the candle, and Everard was left indarkness, save where the moonshine, which the long side-row of latticedwindows dimmed, could imperfectly force its way into the gallery, whichlay in ghostly length before him.

  The melancholy and doubtful twilight was increased by a quantity ofcreeping plants on the outside, which, since all had been neglected inthese ancient halls, now completely overgrown, had in some instancesgreatly diminished, and in others almost quite choked up, the space ofthe lattices, extending between the heavy stone shaftwork which dividedthe windows, both lengthways and across. On the other side there were nowindows at all, and the gallery had been once hung round with paintings,chiefly portraits, by which that side of the apartment had been adorned.Most of the pictures had been removed, yet the empty frames of some, andthe tattered remnants of others, were still visible along the extent ofthe waste gallery; the look of which was so desolate, and it appeared sowell adapted for mischief, supposing there were enemies near him, thatEverard could not help pausing at the entrance, and recommending himselfto God, ere, drawing his sword, he advanced into the apartment, treadingas lightly as possible, and keeping in the shadow as much as he could.

  Markham Everard was by no means superstitious, but he had the usualcredulity of the times; and though he did not yield easily to tales ofsupernatural visitations, yet he could not help thinking he was in thevery situation, where, if such things were ever permitted, they might beexpected to take place, while his own stealthy and ill-assured pace, hisdrawn weapon, and extended arms, being the very attitude and action ofdoubt and suspicion, tended to increase in his mind the gloomy feelingsof which they are the usual indications, and with which they areconstantly associated. Under such unpleasant impressions, and consciousof the neighbourhood of something unfriendly, Colonel Everard hadalready advanced about half along the gallery, when he heard some onesigh very near him, and a low soft voice pronounce his name.

  "Here I am," he replied, while his heart beat thick and short. "Whocalls on Markham Everard?"

  Another sigh was the only answer.

  "Speak," said the Colonel, "whoever or whatsoever you are, and tell withwhat intent and purpose you are lurking in these apartments?"

  "With a better intent than yours," returned the soft voice.

  "Than mine!" answered Everard in great surprise. "Who are you that darejudge of my intents?"

  "What, or who are you, Markham Everard, who wander by moonlight throughthese deserted halls of royalty, where none should be but those whomourn their downfall, or are sworn to avenge it?"

  "It is--and yet it cannot be," said Everard; "yet it is, and must be.Alice Lee, the devil or you speaks. Answer me, I conjure you!--speakopenly--on what dangerous scheme are you engaged? where is your father?why are you here?--wherefore do you run so deadly a venture?--Speak, Iconjure you, Alice Lee!"

  "She whom you call on is at the distance of miles from this spot. Whatif her Genius speaks when she is absent?--what if the soul of anancestress of hers and yours were now addressing you?--what if"--

  "Nay," answered Everard, "but what if the dearest of human beings hascaught a touch of her father's enthusiasm?--what if she is exposing herperson to danger, her reputation to scandal, by traversing in disguiseand darkness a house filled with armed men? Speak to me, my fair cousin,in your own person. I am furnished with powers to protect my uncle, SirHenry--to protect you too, dearest Alice, even against the consequencesof this visionary and wild attempt. Speak--I see where you are, and,with all my respect, I cannot submit to be thus practised upon. Trustme--trust your cousin Markham with your hand, and believe that he willdie or place you in honourable safety."

  As he spoke, he exercised his eyes as keenly as possible to detect wherethe speaker stood; and it seemed to him, that about three yards from himthere was a shadowy form, of which he could not discern even theoutline, placed as it was within the deep and prolonged shadow thrown bya space of wall intervening betwixt two windows, upon that side of theroom from which the light was admitted. He endeavoured to calculate, aswell as he could, the distance betwixt himself and the object which hewatched, under the impression, that if, by even us
ing a slight degree ofcompulsion, he could detach his beloved Alice from the confederacy intowhich he supposed her father's zeal for the cause of royalty had engagedher, he would be rendering them both the most essential favour. He couldnot indeed but conclude, that however successfully the plot which heconceived to be in agitation had proceeded against the timid Bletson,the stupid Desborough, and the crazy Harrison, there was little doubtthat at length their artifices must necessarily bring shame and dangeron those engaged in it.

  It must also be remembered, that Everard's affection to his cousin,although of the most respectful and devoted character, partook less ofthe distant veneration which a lover of those days entertained for thelady whom he worshipped with humble diffidence, than of the fond andfamiliar feelings which a brother entertains towards a younger sister,whom he thinks himself entitled to guide, advise, and even in somedegree to control. So kindly and intimate had been their intercourse,that he had little more hesitation in endeavouring to arrest herprogress in the dangerous course in which she seemed to be engaged, evenat the risk of giving her momentary offence, than he would have had insnatching her from a torrent or conflagration, at the chance of hurtingher by the violence of his grasp. All this passed through his mind inthe course of a single minute; and he resolved at all events to detainher on the spot, and compel, if possible, an explanation from her.

  With this purpose, Everard again conjured his cousin, in the name ofHeaven, to give up this idle and dangerous mummery; and lending anaccurate ear to her answer, endeavoured from the sound to calculate asnearly as possible the distance between them.

  "I am not she for whom you take me," said the voice; "and dearer regardsthan aught connected with her life or death, bid me warn you to keepaloof, and leave this place."

  "Not till I have convinced you of your childish folly," said theColonel, springing forward, and endeavouring to catch hold of her whospoke to him. But no female form was within his grasp. On the contrary,he was met by a shock which could come from no woman's arm, and whichwas rude enough to stretch him on his back on the floor. At the sametime he felt the point of a sword at his throat, and his hands socompletely mastered, that not the slightest defence remained to him.

  "A cry for assistance," said a voice near him, but not that which he hadhitherto heard, "will be stifled in your blood!--No harm is meantyou--be wise and be silent."

  The fear of death, which Everard had often braved in the field ofbattle, became more intense as he felt himself in the hands of unknownassassins, and totally devoid of all means of defence. The sharp pointof the sword pricked his bare throat, and the foot of him who held itwas upon his breast. He felt as if a single thrust would put an end tolife, and all the feverish joys and sorrows which agitate us sostrangely, and from which we are yet so reluctant to part. Large dropsof perspiration stood upon his forehead--his heart throbbed, as if itwould burst from its confinement in the bosom--he experienced the agonywhich fear imposes on the brave man, acute in proportion to that whichpain inflicts when it subdues the robust and healthy.

  "Cousin Alice,"--he attempted to speak, and the sword's point pressedhis throat yet more closely,--"Cousin, let me not be murdered in amanner so fearful!"

  "I tell you," replied the voice, "that you speak to one who is not here;but your life is not aimed at, provided you swear on your faith as aChristian, and your honour as a gentleman, that you will conceal whathas happened, whether from the people below, or from any other person.On this condition you may rise; and if you seek her, you will find AliceLee at Joceline's cottage, in the forest."

  "Since I may not help myself otherwise," said Everard, "I swear, as Ihave a sense of religion and honour, I will say nothing of thisviolence, nor make any search after those who are concerned in it."

  "For that we care nothing," said the voice. "Thou hast an example howwell thou mayst catch mischief on thy own part; but we are in case todefy thee. Rise, and begone!"

  The foot, the sword's-point, were withdrawn, and Everard was about tostart up hastily, when the voice, in the same softness of tone whichdistinguished it at first, said, "No haste--cold and bare steel is yetaround thee. Now--now--now--(the words dying away as at a distance)--thou art free. Be secret and be safe."

  Markham Everard arose, and, in rising, embarrassed his feet with his ownsword, which he had dropped when springing forward, as he supposed, tolay hold of his fair cousin. He snatched it up in haste, and as his handclasped the hilt, his courage, which had given way under theapprehension of instant death, began to return; he considered, withalmost his usual composure, what was to be done next. Deeply affrontedat the disgrace which he had sustained, he questioned for an instantwhether he ought to keep his extorted promise, or should not rathersummon assistance, and make haste to discover and seize those who hadbeen recently engaged in such violence on his person. But these persons,be they who they would, had had his life in their power--he had pledgedhis word in ransom of it--and what was more, he could not divest himselfof the idea that his beloved Alice was a confidant, at least, if not anactor, in the confederacy which had thus baffled him. This prepossessiondetermined his conduct; for, though angry at supposing she must havebeen accessory to his personal ill-treatment, he could not in any eventthink of an instant search through the mansion, which might havecompromised her safety, or that of his uncle. "But I will to the hut,"he said--"I will instantly to the hut, ascertain her share in this wildand dangerous confederacy, and snatch her from ruin, if it be possible."

  As, under the influence of the resolution which he had formed, Everardgroped his way through the gallery and regained the vestibule, he heardhis name called by the well-known voice of Wildrake. "What--ho!--holloa!--Colonel Everard--Mark Everard--it is dark as the devil'smouth--speak--where are you?--The witches are keeping their hellishsabbath here, as I think.--Where are you?"

  "Here, here!" answered Everard. "Cease your bawling. Turn to the left,and you will meet me."

  Guided by his voice, Wildrake soon appeared, with a light in one hand,and his drawn sword in the other. "Where have you been?" he said--"Whathas detained you?--Here are Bletson and the brute Desborough terrifiedout of their lives, and Harrison raving mad, because the devil will notbe civil enough to rise to fight him in single _duello_."

  "Saw or heard you nothing as you came along?" said Everard.

  "Nothing," said his friend, "excepting that when I first entered thiscursed ruinous labyrinth, the light was struck out of my hand, as if bya switch, which obliged me to return for another."

  "I must come by a horse instantly, Wildrake, and another for thyself, ifit be possible."

  "We can take two of those belonging to the troopers," answered Wildrake."But for what purpose should we run away, like rats, at this time in theevening?--Is the house falling?"

  "I cannot answer you," said the Colonel, pushing forward into a roomwhere there were some remains of furniture.

  Here the cavalier took a more strict view of his person, and exclaimedin wonder, "What the devil have you been fighting with, Markham, thathas bedizened you after this sorry fashion?"

  "Fighting!" exclaimed Everard.

  "Yes," replied his trusty attendant. "I say fighting. Look at yourselfin the mirror."

  He did, and saw he was covered with dust and blood. The latter proceededfrom a scratch which he had received in the throat, as he struggled toextricate himself. With unaffected alarm, Wildrake undid his friend'scollar, and with eager haste proceeded to examine the wound, his handstrembling, and his eyes glistening with apprehension for hisbenefactor's life. When, in spite of Everard's opposition, he hadexamined the hurt, and found it trifling, he resumed the naturalwildness of his character, perhaps the more readily that he had feltshame in departing from it, into one which expressed more of feelingthan he would be thought to possess.

  "If that be the devil's work, Mark," said he, "the foul fiend's clawsare not nigh so formidable as they are represented; but no one shall saythat your blood has been shed unrevenged, while Roger Wildrake was byyour
side. Where left you this same imp? I will back to the field offight, confront him with my rapier, and were his nails tenpenny nails,and his teeth as long as those of a harrow, he shall render me reasonfor the injury he has done you."

  "Madness--madness!" exclaimed Everard; "I had this trifling hurt by afall--a basin and towel will wipe it away. Meanwhile, if you will everdo me kindness, get the troop-horses--command them for the service ofthe public, in the name of his Excellency the General. I will but wash,and join you in an instant before the gate."

  "Well, I will serve you, Everard, as a mute serves the Grand Signior,without knowing why or wherefore. But will you go without seeing thesepeople below?"

  "Without seeing any one," said Everard; "lose no time, for God's sake."

  He found out the non-commissioned officer, and demanded the horses in atone of authority, to which the corporal yielded undisputed obedience,as one well aware of Colonel Everard's military rank and consequence. Soall was in a minute or two ready for the expedition.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH.

  She kneeled, and saintlike Cast her eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly. KING HENRY VIII.

  Colonel Everard's departure at the late hour, for, so it was thenthought, of seven in the evening, excited much speculation. There was agathering of menials and dependents in the outer chamber or hall, for noone doubted that his sudden departure was owing to his having, as theyexpressed it, "seen something," and all desired to know how a man ofsuch acknowledged courage as Everard, looked under the awe of a recentapparition. But he gave them no time to make comments; for, stridingthrough the hall wrapt in his riding suit, he threw himself onhorseback, and rode furiously through the Chase, towards the hut of thekeeper Joliffe.

  It was the disposition of Markham Everard to be hot, keen, earnest,impatient, and decisive to a degree of precipitation. The acquiredhabits which education had taught, and which the strong moral andreligious discipline of his sect had greatly strengthened, were such asto enable him to conceal, as well as to check, this constitutionalviolence, and to place him upon his guard against indulging it. But whenin the high tide of violent excitation, the natural impetuosity of theyoung soldier's temper was sometimes apt to overcome these artificialobstacles, and then, like a torrent foaming over a wear, it became morefurious, as if in revenge for the constrained calm which it had been forsome time obliged to assume. In these instances he was accustomed to seeonly that point to which his thoughts were bent, and to move straighttowards it, whether a moral object, or the storming of a breach, withouteither calculating, or even appearing to see, the difficulties whichwere before him.

  At present, his ruling and impelling motive was to detach his belovedcousin, if possible, from the dangerous and discreditable machinationsin which he suspected her to have engaged, or, on the other hand, todiscover that she really had no concern with these stratagems. He shouldknow how to judge of that in some measure, he thought, by finding herpresent or absent at the hut, towards which he was now galloping. He hadread, indeed, in some ballad or minstrel's tale, of a singular deceptionpractised on a jealous old man, by means of a subterranean communicationbetween his house and that of a neighbour, which the lady in questionmade use of to present herself in the two places alternately, with suchspeed, and so much address, that, after repeated experiments, the dotardwas deceived into the opinion, that his wife, and the lady who was sovery like her, and to whom his neighbour paid so much attention, weretwo different persons. But in the present case there was no room forsuch a deception; the distance was too great, and as he took by much thenearest way from the castle, and rode full speed, it would beimpossible, he knew, for his cousin, who was a timorous horsewoman evenby daylight, to have got home before him.

  Her father might indeed be displeased at his interference; but whattitle had he to be so?--Was not Alice Lee the near relation of hisblood, the dearest object of his heart, and would he now abstain from aneffort to save her from the consequences of a silly and wild conspiracy,because the old knight's spleen might be awakened by Everard's makinghis appearance at their present dwelling contrary to his commands? No.He would endure the old man's harsh language, as he endured the blast ofthe autumn wind, which was howling around him, and swinging the crashingbranches of the trees under which he passed, but could not oppose, oreven retard, his journey.

  If he found not Alice, as he had reason to believe she would be absent,to Sir Henry Lee himself he would explain what he had witnessed. Howevershe might have become accessory to the juggling tricks performed atWoodstock, he could not but think it was without her father's knowledge,so severe a judge was the old knight of female propriety, and so strictan assertor of female decorum. He would take the same opportunity, hethought, of stating to him the well-grounded hopes he entertained, thathis dwelling at the Lodge might be prolonged, and the sequestratorsremoved from the royal mansion and domains, by other means than those ofthe absurd species of intimidation which seemed to be resorted to, toscare them from thence.

  All this seemed to be so much within the line of his duty as a relative,that it was not until he halted at the door of the ranger's hut, andthrew his bridle into Wildrake's hand, that Everard recollected thefiery, high, and unbending character of Sir Henry Lee, and felt, evenwhen his fingers were on the latch, a reluctance to intrude himself uponthe presence of the irritable old knight.

  But there was no time for hesitation. Bevis, who had already bayed morethan once from within the Lodge, was growing impatient, and Everard hadbut just time to bid Wildrake hold the horses until he should sendJoceline to his assistance, when old Joan unpinned the door, to demandwho was without at that time of the night. To have attempted anythinglike an explanation with poor dame Joan, would have been quite hopeless;the Colonel, therefore, put her gently aside, and shaking himself loosefrom the hold she had laid on his cloak, entered the kitchen ofJoceline's dwelling. Bevis, who had advanced to support Joan in heropposition, humbled his lion-port, with that wonderful instinct whichmakes his race remember so long those with whom they have been familiar,and acknowledged his master's relative, by doing homage in his fashion,with his head and tail.

  Colonel Everard, more uncertain in his purpose every moment as thenecessity of its execution drew near, stole over the floor like one whotreads in a sick chamber, and opening the door of the interior apartmentwith a slow and trembling hand, as he would have withdrawn the curtainsof a dying friend, he saw, within, the scene which we are about todescribe.

  Sir Henry Lee sat in a wicker arm-chair by the fire. He was wrapped in acloak, and his limbs extended on a stool, as if he were suffering fromgout or indisposition. His long white beard flowing over thedark-coloured garment, gave him more the appearance of a hermit than ofan aged soldier or man of quality; and that character was increased bythe deep and devout attention with which he listened to a respectableold man, whose dilapidated dress showed still something of the clericalhabit, and who, with a low, but full and deep voice, was reading theEvening Service according to the Church of England. Alice Lee kneeled atthe feet of her father, and made the responses with a voice that mighthave suited the choir of angels; and a modest and serious devotion,which suited the melody of her tone. The face of the officiatingclergyman would have been good-looking, had it not been disfigured witha black patch which covered the left eye and a part of his face, and hadnot the features which were visible been marked with the traces of careand suffering.

  When Colonel Everard entered, the clergyman raised his finger, ascautioning him to forbear disturbing the divine service of the evening,and pointed to a seat; to which, struck deeply with the scene he hadwitnessed, the intruder stole with as light a step as possible, andknelt devoutly down as one of the little congregation.

  Everard had been bred by his father what was called a Puritan; a memberof a sect who, in the primitive sense of the word, were persons that didnot except against the doctrines of the Church of En
gland, or even inall respects against its hierarchy, but chiefly dissented from it on thesubject of certain ceremonies, habits, and forms of ritual, which wereinsisted upon by the celebrated and unfortunate Laud with ill-timedtenacity. But even if, from the habits of his father's house, Everard'sopinions had been diametrically opposed to the doctrines of the EnglishChurch, he must have been reconciled to them by the regularity withwhich the service was performed in his uncle's family at Woodstock, who,during the blossom of his fortunes, generally had a chaplain residing inthe Lodge for that special purpose.

  Yet deep as was the habitual veneration with which he heard theimpressive service of the Church, Everard's eyes could not help strayingtowards Alice, and his thoughts wandering to the purpose of his presencethere. She seemed to have recognised him at once, for there was a deeperglow than usual upon her cheek, her fingers trembled as they turned theleaves of her prayerbook, and her voice, lately as firm as it wasmelodious, faltered when she repeated the responses. It appeared toEverard, as far as he could collect by the stolen glances which hedirected towards her, that the character of her beauty, as well as ofher outward appearance, had changed with her fortunes.

  The beautiful and high-born young lady had now approached as nearly aspossible to the brown stuff dress of an ordinary village maiden; butwhat she had lost in gaiety of appearance, she had gained as it seemedin dignity. Her beautiful light-brown tresses, now folded around herhead, and only curled where nature had so arranged them, gave her an airof simplicity, which did not exist when her head-dress showed the skillof a curious tire-woman. A light joyous air, with something of ahumorous expression, which seemed to be looking for amusement, hadvanished before the touch of affliction, and a calm melancholy suppliedits place, which seemed on the watch to administer comfort to others.Perhaps the former arch, though innocent expression of countenance, wasuppermost in her lover's recollection, when he concluded that Alice hadacted a part in the disturbances which had taken place at the Lodge. Itis certain, that when he now looked upon her, it was with shame forhaving nourished such a suspicion, and the resolution to believe ratherthat the devil had imitated her voice, than that a creature, who seemedso much above the feelings of this world, and so nearly allied to thepurity of the next, should have had the indelicacy to mingle in suchmanoeuvres as he himself and others had been subjected to.

  These thoughts shot through his mind, in spite of the impropriety ofindulging them at such a moment. The service now approached the close,and a good deal to Colonel Everard's surprise, as well as confusion, theofficiating priest, in firm and audible tone, and with every attributeof dignity, prayed to the Almighty to bless and preserve "Our SovereignLord, King Charles, the lawful and undoubted King of these realms." Thepetition (in those days most dangerous) was pronounced with a full,raised, and distinct articulation, as if the priest challenged all whoheard him to dissent, if they dared. If the republican officer did notassent to the petition, he thought at least it was no time to protestagainst it.

  The service was concluded in the usual manner, and the littlecongregation arose. It now included Wildrake, who had entered during thelatter prayer, and was the first of the party to speak, running up tothe priest, and shaking him by the hand most heartily, swearing at thesame time, that he truly rejoiced to see him. The good clergymanreturned the pressure with a smile, observing he should have believedhis asseveration without an oath. In the meanwhile, Colonel Everard,approaching his uncle's seat, made a deep inclination of respect, firstto Sir Henry Lee, and then to Alice, whose colour now spread from hercheek to her brow and bosom.

  "I have to crave your excuse," said the Colonel with hesitation, "forhaving chosen for my visit, which I dare not hope would be veryagreeable at any time, a season most peculiarly unsuitable."

  "So far from it, nephew," answered Sir Henry, with much more mildness ofmanner than Everard had dared to expect, "that your visits at othertimes would be much more welcome, had we the fortune to see you often atour hours of worship."

  "I hope the time will soon come, sir, when Englishmen of all sects anddenominations," replied Everard, "will be free in conscience to worshipin common the great Father, whom they all after their manner call bythat affectionate name."

  "I hope so too, nephew," said the old man in the same unaltered tone;"and we will not at present dispute, whether you would have the Churchof England coalesce with the Conventicle, or the Conventicle conform tothe Church. It was, I ween, not to settle jarring creeds, that you havehonoured our poor dwelling, where, to say the truth, we dared scarcehave expected to see you again, so coarse was our last welcome."

  "I should be happy to believe," said Colonel Everard, hesitating,"that--that--in short my presence was not now so unwelcome here as onthat occasion."

  "Nephew," said Sir Henry, "I will be frank with you. When you were lasthere, I thought you had stolen from me a precious pearl, which at onetime it would have been my pride and happiness to have bestowed on you;but which, being such as you have been of late, I would bury in thedepths of the earth rather than give to your keeping. This somewhatchafed, as honest Will says, 'the rash humour which my mother gave me.'I thought I was robbed, and I thought I saw the robber before me. I ammistaken--I am not robbed; and the attempt without the deed I canpardon."

  "I would not willingly seek offence in your words, sir," said ColonelEverard, "when their general purport sounds kind; but I can protestbefore Heaven, that my views and wishes towards you and your family areas void of selfish hopes and selfish ends, as they are fraught with loveto you and to yours."

  "Let us hear them, man; we are not much accustomed to good wishesnow-a-days; and their very rarity will make them welcome."

  "I would willingly, Sir Henry, since you might not choose me to give youa more affectionate name, convert those wishes into something effectualfor your comfort. Your fate, as the world now stands, is bad, and, Ifear, like to be worse."

  "Worse than I expect it cannot be. Nephew, I do not shrink before mychanges of fortune. I shall wear coarser clothes,--I shall feed on moreordinary food,--men will not doff their cap to me as they were wont,when I was the great and the wealthy. What of that? Old Harry Lee lovedhis honour better than his title, his faith better than his land andlordship. Have I not seen the 30th of January? I am neither Philomathnor astrologer; but old Will teaches me, that when green leaves fallwinter is at hand, and that darkness will come when the sun sets."

  "Bethink you, sir," said Colonel Everard, "if, without any submissionasked, any oath taken, any engagement imposed, express or tacit,excepting that you are not to excite disturbances in the public peace,you can be restored to your residence in the Lodge, and your usualfortunes and perquisities there--I have great reason to hope this may bepermitted, if not expressly, at least on sufferance."

  "Yes, I understand you. I am to be treated like the royal coin, markedwith the ensign of the Rump to make it pass current, although I am tooold to have the royal insignia grinded off from me. Kinsman, I will havenone of this. I have lived at the Lodge too long; and let me tell you, Ihad left it in scorn long since, but for the orders of one whom I mayyet live to do service to. I will take nothing from the usurpers, betheir name Rump or Cromwell--be they one devil or legion--I will nottake from them an old cap to cover my grey hairs--a cast cloak toprotect my frail limbs from the cold. They shall not say they have, bytheir unwilling bounty, made Abraham rich--I will live, as I will die,the Loyal Lee."

  "May I hope you will think of it, sir; and that you will, perhaps,considering what slight submission is asked, give me a better answer?"

  "Sir, if I retract my opinion, which is not my wont, you shall hear ofit.--And now, cousin, have you more to say? We keep that worthyclergyman in the outer room."

  "Something I had to say--something touching my cousin Alice," saidEverard, with embarrassment; "but I fear that the prejudices of both areso strong against me"--

  "Sir, I dare turn my daughter loose to you--I will go join the gooddoctor in dame Joan's apartment. I am not un
willing that you should knowthat the girl hath, in all reasonable sort, the exercise of her freewill."

  He withdrew, and left the cousins together.

  Colonel Everard advanced to Alice, and was about to take her hand. Shedrew back, took the seat which her father had occupied, and pointed outto him one at some distance.

  "Are we then so much estranged, my dearest Alice?" he said.

  "We will speak of that presently," she replied. "In the first place, letme ask the cause of your visit here at so late an hour."

  "You heard," said Everard, "what I stated to your father?"

  "I did; but that seems to have been only part of your errand--somethingthere seemed to be which applied particularly to me."

  "It was a fancy--a strange mistake," answered Everard. "May I ask if youhave been abroad this evening?"

  "Certainly not," she replied. "I have small temptation to wander from mypresent home, poor as it is; and whilst here, I have important duties todischarge. But why does Colonel Everard ask so strange a question?"

  "Tell me in turn, why your cousin Markham has lost the name offriendship and kindred, and even of some nearer feeling, and then I willanswer you, Alice?"

  "It is soon answered," she said. "When you drew your sword against myfather's cause--almost against his person--I studied, more than I shouldhave done, to find excuse for you. I knew, that is, I thought I knewyour high feelings of public duty--I knew the opinions in which you hadbeen bred up; and I said, I will not, even for this, cast him off--heopposes his King because he is loyal to his country. You endeavoured toavert the great and concluding tragedy of the 30th of January; and itconfirmed me in my opinion, that Markham Everard might be misled, butcould not be base or selfish."

  "And what has changed your opinion, Alice? or who dare," said Everard,reddening, "attach such epithets to the name of Markham Everard?"

  "I am no subject," she said, "for exercising your valour, ColonelEverard, nor do I mean to offend. But you will find enough of others whowill avow, that Colonel Everard is truckling to the usurper Cromwell,and that all his fair pretexts of forwarding his country's liberties,are but a screen for driving a bargain with the successful encroacher,and obtaining the best terms he can for himself and his family."

  "For myself--never!"

  "But for your family you have--Yes, I am well assured that you havepointed out to the military tyrant, the way in which he and his satrapsmay master the government. Do you think my father or I would accept anasylum purchased at the price of England's liberty, and your honour?"

  "Gracious Heaven, Alice, what is this? You accuse me of pursuing thevery course which so lately had your approbation!"

  "When you spoke with authority of your father, and recommended oursubmission to the existing government, such as it was, I own Ithought--that my father's grey head might, without dishonour, haveremained under the roof where it had so long been sheltered. But didyour father sanction your becoming the adviser of yonder ambitioussoldier to a new course of innovation, and his abettor in theestablishment of a new species of tyranny?--It is one thing to submit tooppression, another to be the agent of tyrants--And O, Markham--theirbloodhound!"

  "How! bloodhound?--what mean you?--I own it is true I could see withcontent the wounds of this bleeding country stanched, even at theexpense of beholding Cromwell, after his matchless rise, take a yetfarther step to power--but to be his bloodhound! What is your meaning?"

  "It is false, then?--I thought I could swear it had been false."

  "What, in the name of God, is it you ask?"

  "It is false that you are engaged to betray the young King of Scotland?"

  "Betray him! _I_ betray him, or any fugitive? Never! I would he werewell out of England--I would lend him my aid to escape, were he in thehouse at this instant; and think in acting so I did his enemies goodservice, by preventing their soiling themselves with his blood--butbetray him, never!"

  "I knew it--I was sure it was impossible. Oh, be yet more honest;disengage yourself from yonder gloomy and ambitious soldier! Shun himand his schemes, which are formed in injustice, and can only be realizedin yet more blood!"

  "Believe me," replied Everard, "that I choose the line of policy bestbefitting the times."

  "Choose that," she said, "which best befits duty, Markham--which bestbefits truth and honour. Do your duty, and let Providence decide therest.--Farewell! we tempt my father's patience too far--you know histemper--farewell, Markham."

  She extended her hand, which he pressed to his lips, and left theapartment. A silent bow to his uncle, and a sign to Wildrake, whom hefound in the kitchen of the cabin, were the only tokens of recognitionexhibited, and leaving the hut, he was soon mounted, and, with hiscompanion, advanced on his return to the Lodge.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH.

  Deeds are done on earth Which have their punishment ere the earth closes Upon the perpetrators. Be it the working Of the remorse-stirr'd fancy, or the vision, Distinct and real, of unearthly being, All ages witness, that beside the couch Of the fell homicide oft stalks the ghost Of him he slew, and shows the shadowy wound. OLD PLAY.

  Everard had come to Joceline's hut as fast as horse could bear him, andwith the same impetuosity of purpose as of speed. He saw no choice inthe course to be pursued, and felt in his own imagination the strongestright to direct, and even reprove, his cousin, beloved as she was, onaccount of the dangerous machinations with which she appeared to haveconnected herself. He returned slowly, and in a very different mood.

  Not only had Alice, prudent as beautiful, appeared completely free fromthe weakness of conduct which seemed to give him some authority overher, but her views of policy, if less practicable, were so much moredirect and noble than his own, as led him to question whether he had notcompromised himself too rashly with Cromwell, even although the state ofthe country was so greatly divided and torn by faction, that thepromotion of the General to the possession of the executive governmentseemed the only chance of escaping a renewal of the Civil War. The moreexalted and purer sentiments of Alice lowered him in his own eyes; andthough unshaken in his opinion, that it were better the vessel should besteered by a pilot having no good title to the office, than that sheshould run upon the breakers, he felt that he was not espousing the mostdirect, manly, and disinterested side of the question.

  As he rode on, immersed in these unpleasant contemplations, andconsiderably lessened in his own esteem by what had happened, Wildrake,who rode by his side, and was no friend to long silence, began to enterinto conversation. "I have been thinking, Mark," said he, "that if youand I had been called to the bar--as, by the by, has been in danger ofhappening to me in more senses than one--I say, had we becomebarristers, I would have had the better oiled tongue of the two--thefairer art of persuasion."

  "Perhaps so," replied Everard, "though I never heard thee use any, saveto induce an usurer to lend thee money, or a taverner to abate areckoning."

  "And yet this day, or rather night, I could have, as I think, made aconquest which baffled you."

  "Indeed?" said the Colonel, becoming attentive.

  "Why, look you," said Wildrake, "it was a main object with you to induceMistress Alice Lee--By Heaven, she is an exquisite creature--I approveof your taste, Mark--I say, you desire to persuade her, and the stoutold Trojan her father, to consent to return to the Lodge, and live therequietly, and under connivance, like gentlefolk, instead of lodging in ahut hardly fit to harbour a Tom of Bedlam."

  "Thou art right; such, indeed, was a great part of my object in thisvisit," answered Everard.

  "But perhaps you also expected to visit there yourself, and so keepwatch over pretty Mistress Lee--eh?"

  "I never entertained so selfish a thought," said Everard; "and if thisnocturnal disturbance at the mansion were explained and ended, I wouldinstantly take my departure."

  "Your friend Noll would expect something more from you," said Wildrake;"he would expect, in case the knig
ht's reputation for loyalty shoulddraw any of our poor exiles and wanderers about the Lodge, that youshould be on the watch and ready to snap them. In a word, as far as Ican understand his long-winded speeches, he would have Woodstock a trap,your uncle and his pretty daughter the bait of toasted-cheese--cravingyour Chloe's pardon for the comparison--you the spring-fall which shouldbar their escape, his Lordship himself being the great grimalkin to whomthey are to be given over to be devoured."

  "Dared Cromwell mention this to thee in express terms?" said Everard,pulling up his horse, and stopping in the midst of the road.

  "Nay, not in express terms, which I do not believe he ever used in hislife; you might as well expect a drunken man to go straight forward; buthe insinuated as much to me, and indicated that you might deserve wellof him--Gadzo, the damnable proposal sticks in my throat--by betrayingour noble and rightful King, (here he pulled off his hat,) whom Godgrant in health and wealth long to reign, as the worthy clergyman says,though I fear just now his Majesty is both sick and sorry, and never apenny in his pouch to boot."

  "This tallies with what Alice hinted," said Everard; "but how could sheknow it? didst thou give her any hint of such a thing?"

  "I!" replied the cavalier, "I, who never saw Mistress Alice in my lifetill to-night, and then only for an instant--zooks, man, how is thatpossible?"

  "True," replied Everard, and seemed lost in thought. At length hespoke--"I should call Cromwell to account for his bad opinion of me;for, even though not seriously expressed, but, as I am convinced it was,with the sole view of proving you, and perhaps myself, it was,nevertheless, a misconstruction to be resented."

  "I'll carry a cartel for you, with all my heart and soul," saidWildrake; "and turn out with his godliness's second, with as good willas I ever drank a glass of sack."

  "Pshaw," replied Everard, "those in his high place fight no singlecombats. But tell me, Roger Wildrake, didst thou thyself think mecapable of the falsehood and treachery implied in such a message?"

  "I!" exclaimed Wildrake. "Markham Everard, you have been my earlyfriend, my constant benefactor. When Colchester was reduced, you savedme from the gallows, and since that thou hast twenty times saved me fromstarving. But, by Heaven, if I thought you capable of such villany asyour General recommended,--by yonder blue sky, and all the works ofcreation which it bends over, I would stab you with my own hand!"

  "Death," replied Everard, "I should indeed deserve, but not from you,perhaps; but fortunately, I cannot, if I would, be guilty of thetreachery you would punish. Know that I had this day secret notice, andfrom Cromwell himself, that the young Man has escaped by sea fromBristol."

  "Now, God Almighty be blessed, who protected him through so manydangers!" exclaimed Wildrake. "Huzza!--Up hearts, cavaliers!--Hey forcavaliers!--God bless King Charles!--Moon and stars, catch my hat!"--andhe threw it up as high as he could into the air. The celestial bodieswhich he invoked did not receive the present dispatched to them; but, asin the case of Sir Henry Lee's scabbard, an old gnarled oak became asecond time the receptacle of a waif and stray of loyal enthusiasm.Wildrake looked rather foolish at the circumstance, and his friend tookthe opportunity of admonishing him.

  "Art thou not ashamed to bear thee so like a schoolboy?"

  "Why," said Wildrake, "I have but sent a Puritan's hat upon a loyalerrand. I laugh to think how many of the schoolboys thou talk'st of willbe cheated into climbing the pollard next year, expecting to find thenest of some unknown bird in yonder unmeasured margin of felt."

  "Hush now, for God's sake, and let us speak calmly," said Everard."Charles has escaped, and I am glad of it. I would willingly have seenhim on his father's throne by composition, but not by the force of theScottish army, and the incensed and vengeful royalists."

  "Master Markham Everard," began the cavalier, interrupting him--"Nay,hush, dear Wildrake," said Everard; "let us not dispute a point on whichwe cannot agree, and give me leave to go on.--I say, since the young Manhas escaped, Cromwell's offensive and injurious stipulation falls to theground; and I see not why my uncle and his family should not again entertheir own house, under the same terms of connivance as many otherroyalists. What may be incumbent on me is different, nor can I determinemy course until I have an interview with the General, which, as I think,will end in his confessing that he threw in this offensive proposal tosound us both. It is much in his manner; for he is blunt, and never seesor feels the punctilious honour which the gallants of the day stretch tosuch delicacy."

  "I'll acquit him of having any punctilio about him," said Wildrake,"either touching honour or honesty. Now, to come back to where westarted. Supposing you were not to reside in person at the Lodge, and toforbear even visiting there, unless on invitation, when such a thing canbe brought about, I tell you frankly, I think your uncle and hisdaughter might be induced to come back to the Lodge, and reside there asusual. At least the clergyman, that worthy old cock, gave me to hope asmuch."

  "He had been hasty in bestowing his confidence," said Everard.

  "True," replied Wildrake; "he confided in me at once; for he instantlysaw my regard for the Church. I thank Heaven I never passed a clergymanin his canonicals without pulling my hat off--(and thou knowest, themost desperate duel I ever fought was with young Grayless of the InnerTemple, for taking the wall of the Reverend Dr. Bunce)--Ah, I can gain achaplain's ear instantly. Gadzooks, they know whom they have to trust toin such a one as I."

  "Dost thou think, then," said Colonel Everard, "or rather does thisclergyman think, that if they were secure of intrusion from me, thefamily would return to the Lodge, supposing the intruding Commissionersgone, and this nocturnal disturbance explained and ended?"

  "The old Knight," answered Wildrake, "may be wrought upon by the Doctorto return, if he is secure against intrusion. As for disturbances, thestout old boy, so far as I can learn in two minutes' conversation,laughs at all this turmoil as the work of mere imagination, theconsequence of the remorse of their own evil consciences; and says thatgoblin or devil was never heard of at Woodstock, until it became theresidence of such men as they, who have now usurped the possession."

  "There is more than imagination in it," said Everard. "I have personalreason to know there is some conspiracy carrying on, to render the houseuntenable by the Commissioners. I acquit my uncle of accession to such asilly trick; but I must see it ended ere I can agree to his and mycousin's residing where such a confederacy exists; for they are likelyto be considered as the contrivers of such pranks, be the actual agentwho he may."

  "With reference to your better acquaintance with the gentleman, Everard,I should rather suspect the old father of Puritans (I beg your pardonagain) has something to do with the business; and if so, Lucifer willnever look near the true old Knight's beard, nor abide a glance ofyonder maiden's innocent blue eyes. I will uphold them as safe as puregold in a miser's chest."

  "Sawest thou aught thyself, which makes thee think thus?"

  "Not a quill of the devil's pinion saw I," replied Wildrake. "Hesupposes himself too secure of an old cavalier, who must steal, hang, ordrown, in the long run, so he gives himself no trouble to look after theassured booty. But I heard the serving-fellows prate of what they hadseen and heard; and though their tales were confused enough, yet ifthere was any truth among them at all, I should say the devil must havebeen in the dance.--But, holla! here comes some one upon us.--Stand,friend--who art thou?"

  "A poor day-labourer in the great work of England--Joseph Tomkins byname--Secretary to a godly and well-endowed leader in this poorChristian army of England, called General Harrison."

  "What news, Master Tomkins?" said Everard; "and why are you on the roadat this late hour?"

  "I speak to the worthy Colonel Everard, as I judge?" said Tomkins; "andtruly I am glad of meeting your honour. Heaven knows, I need suchassistance as yours.--Oh, worthy Master Everard!--Here has been asounding of trumpets, and a breaking of vials, and a pouring forth,and"--

  "Prithee, tell me in brief, what is the matter--where is thy
master--and, in a word, what has happened?"

  "My master is close by, parading it in the little meadow, beside thehugeous oak, which is called by the name of the late Man; ride but twosteps forward, and you may see him walking swiftly to and fro, advancingall the while the naked weapon."

  Upon proceeding as directed, but with as little noise as possible, theydescried a man, whom of course they concluded must be Harrison, walkingto and fro beneath the King's oak, as a sentinel under arms, but withmore wildness of demeanour. The tramp of the horses did not escape hisear; and they heard him call out, as if at the head of the brigade--"Lower pikes against cavalry!--Here comes Prince Rupert--Stand fast, andyou shall turn them aside, as a bull would toss a cur-dog. Lower yourpikes still, my hearts, the end secured against your foot--down on yourright knee, front rank--spare not for the spoiling of your blueaprons.--Ha--Zerobabel--ay, that is the word!"

  "In the name of Heaven, about whom or what is he talking" said Everard;"wherefore does he go about with his weapon drawn?"

  "Truly, sir, when aught disturbs my master, General Harrison, he issomething rapt in the spirit, and conceives that he is commanding areserve of pikes at the great battle of Armageddon--and for his weapon,alack, worthy sir, wherefore should he keep Sheffield steel in calves'leather, when there are fiends to be combated--incarnate fiends onearth, and raging infernal fiends under the earth?"

  "This is intolerable," said Everard. "Listen to me, Tomkins. Thou artnot now in the pulpit, and I desire none of thy preaching language. Iknow thou canst speak intelligibly when thou art so minded. Remember, Imay serve or harm thee; and as you hope or fear any thing on my part,answer straight-forward--What has happened to drive out thy master tothe wild wood at this time of night?"

  "Forsooth, worthy and honoured sir, I will speak with the precision Imay. True it is, and of verity, that the breath of man, which is in hisnostrils, goeth forth and returneth"--

  "Hark you, sir," said Colonel Everard, "take care where you ramble inyour correspondence with me. You have heard how at the great battle ofDunbar in Scotland, the General himself held a pistol to the head ofLieutenant Hewcreed, threatening to shoot him through the brain if hedid not give up holding forth, and put his squadron in line to thefront. Take care, sir."

  "Verily, the lieutenant then charged with an even and unbroken order,"said Tomkins, "and bore a thousand plaids and bonnets over the beachbefore him into the sea. Neither shall I pretermit or postpone yourhonour's commands, but speedily obey them, and that without delay."

  "Go to, fellow; thou knowest what I would have," said Everard; "speak atonce; I know thou canst if thou wilt. Trusty Tomkins is better knownthan he thinks for."

  "Worthy sir," said Tomkins, in a much less periphrastic style, "I willobey your worship as far as the spirit will permit. Truly, it was not anhour since, when my worshipful master being at table with Master Bibbetand myself, not to mention the worshipful Master Bletson and ColonelDesborough, and behold there was a violent knocking at the gate, as ofone in haste. Now, of a certainty, so much had our household beenharassed with witches and spirits, and other objects of sound and sight,that the sentinels could not be brought to abide upon their postswithout doors, and it was only by a provision of beef and strong liquorsthat we were able to maintain a guard of three men in the hall, whonevertheless ventured not to open the door, lest they should besurprised with some of the goblins wherewith their imaginations wereoverwhelmed. And they heard the knocking, which increased until itseemed that the door was well-nigh about to be beaten down. WorthyMaster Bibbet was a little overcome with liquor, (as is his fashion,good man, about this time of the evening,) not that he is in the leastgiven to ebriety, but simply, that since the Scottish campaign he hathhad a perpetual ague, which obliges him so to nourish his frame againstthe damps of the night; wherefore, as it is well known to your honourthat I discharge the office of a faithful servant, as well toMajor-General Harrison, and the other Commissioners, as to my just andlawful master, Colonel Desborough"--

  "I know all that.--And now that thou art trusted by both, I pray toHeaven thou mayest merit the trust," said Colonel Everard.

  "And devoutly do I pray," said Tomkins, "that your worshipful prayersmay be answered with favour; for certainly to be, and to be called andentitled, Honest Joe, and Trusty Tomkins, is to me more than ever wouldbe an Earl's title, were such things to be granted anew in thisregenerated government."

  "Well, go on--go on--or if thou dalliest much longer, I will make boldto dispute the article of your honesty. I like short tales, sir, anddoubt what is told with a long unnecessary train of words."

  "Well, good sir, be not hasty. As I said before, the doors rattled tillyou would have thought the knocking was reiterated in every room of thePalace. The bell rung out for company, though we could not find that anyone tolled the clapper, and the guards let off their firelocks, merelybecause they knew not what better to do. So, Master Bibbet being, as Isaid, unsusceptible of his duty, I went down with my poor rapier to thedoor, and demanded who was there; and I was answered in a voice, which,I must say, was much like another voice, that it was one wantingMajor-General Harrison. So, as it was then late, I answered mildly, thatGeneral Harrison was betaking himself to his rest, and that any whowished to speak to him must return on the morrow morning, for that afternightfall the door of the Palace, being in the room of a garrison, wouldbe opened to no one. So, the voice replied, and bid me open directly,without which he would blow the folding leaves of the door into themiddle of the hall. And therewithal the noise recommenced, that wethought the house would have fallen; and I was in some measureconstrained to open the door, even like a besieged garrison which canhold out no longer."

  "By my honour, and it was stoutly done of you, I must say," saidWildrake,--who had been listening with much interest. "I am a bolddare-devil enough, yet when I had two inches of oak plank between theactual fiend and me, hang him that would demolish the barrier betweenus, say I--I would as soon, when aboard, bore a hole in the ship, andlet in the waves; for you know we always compare the devil to the deepsea."

  "Prithee, peace, Wildrake," said Everard, "and let him go on with hishistory.--Well, and what saw'st thou when the door was opened?--thegreat Devil with his horns and claws thou wilt say, no doubt."

  "No, sir, I will say nothing but what is true. When I undid the door,one man stood there, and he, to seeming, a man of no extraordinaryappearance. He was wrapped in a taffeta cloak of a scarlet colour, andwith a red lining. He seemed as if he might have been in his time a veryhandsome man, but there was something of paleness and sorrow in hisface--a long love-lock and long hair he wore, even after the abominationof the cavaliers, and the unloveliness, as learned Master Prynne welltermed it, of love-locks--a jewel in his ear--a blue scarf over hisshoulder, like a military commander for the King, and a hat with a whiteplume, bearing a peculiar hatband."

  "Some unhappy officer of cavaliers, of whom so many are in hiding, andseeking shelter through the country," briefly replied Everard.

  "True, worthy sir--right as a judicious exposition. But there wassomething about this man (if he was a man) whom I, for one, could notlook upon without trembling; nor the musketeers,--who were in the hall,without betraying much alarm, and swallowing, as they will themselvesaver, the very bullets--which they had in their mouths for loading theircarabines and muskets. Nay, the wolf and deer-dogs, that are thefiercest of their kind, fled from this visitor, and crept into holes andcorners, moaning and wailing in a low and broken tone. He came into themiddle of the hall, and still he seemed no more than an ordinary man,only somewhat fantastically dressed, in a doublet of black velvet pinkedupon scarlet satin under his cloak, a jewel in his ear, with large rosesin his shoes, and a kerchief in his hand, which he sometimes pressedagainst his left side."

  "Gracious Heavens!" said Wildrake, coming close up to Everard, andwhispering in his ear, with accents which terror rendered tremulous, (amood of mind most unusual to the daring man, who seemed now overcome byit)--"it must have be
en poor Dick Robison the player, in the very dressin which I have seen him play Philaster--ay, and drunk a jolly bottlewith him after it at the Mermaid! I remember how many frolics we hadtogether, and all his little fantastic fashions. He served for his oldmaster, Charles, in Mohun's troop, and was murdered by this butcher'sdog, as I have heard, after surrender, at the battle of Naseby-field."

  "Hush! I have heard of the deed," said Everard; "for God's sake hear theman to an end.--Did this visitor speak to thee, my friend?"

  "Yes, sir, in a pleasing tone of voice, but somewhat fanciful in thearticulation, and like one who is speaking to an audience as from a baror a pulpit, more than in the voice of ordinary men on ordinary matters.He desired to see Major-General Harrison."

  "He did!--and you," said Everard, infected by the spirit of the time,which, as is well known, leaned to credulity upon all matters ofsupernatural agency,--"what did you do?"

  "I went up to the parlour, and related that such a person enquired forhim. He started when I told him, and eagerly desired to know the man'sdress; but no sooner did I mention his dress, and the jewel in his ear,than he said, 'Begone! tell him I will not admit him to speech of me.Say that I defy him, and will make my defiance good at the great battlein the valley of Armageddon, when the voice of the angel shall call allfowls which fly under the face of heaven to feed on the flesh of thecaptain and the soldier, the warhorse and his rider. Say to the EvilOne, I have power to appeal our conflict even till that day, and that inthe front of that fearful day he will again meet with Harrison.' I wentback with this answer to the stranger, and his face was writhed intosuch a deadly frown as a mere human brow hath seldom worn. 'Return tohim,' he said, 'and say it is MY HOUR, and that if he come not instantlydown to speak with me, I will mount the stairs to him. Say that ICOMMAND him to descend, by the token, that, on the field of Naseby, _hedid not the work negligently_.'"

  "I have heard," whispered Wildrake--who felt more and more strongly thecontagion of superstition--"that these words were blasphemously used byHarrison when he shot my poor friend Dick."

  "What happened next?" said Everard. "See that thou speakest the truth."

  "As gospel unexpounded by a steeple-man," said the Independent; "yettruly it is but little I have to say. I saw my master come down, with ablank, yet resolved air; and when he entered the hall and saw thestranger, he made a pause. The other waved on him as if to follow, andwalked out at the portal. My worthy patron seemed as if he were about tofollow, yet again paused, when this visitant, be he man or fiend,re-entered, and said, 'Obey thy doom.

  'By pathless march by greenwood tree, It is thy weird to follow me-- To follow me through the ghastly moonlight-- To follow me through the shadows of night-- To follow me, comrade, still art thou bound; I conjure thee by the unstaunch'd wound-- I conjure thee by the last words I spoke When the body slept and the spirit awoke, In the very last pangs of the deadly stroke.'

  "So saying, he stalked out, and my master followed him into the wood.--Ifollowed also at a distance. But when I came up, my master was alone,and bearing himself as you now behold him."

  "Thou hast had a wonderful memory, friend," said the Colonel, coldly,"to remember these rhymes in a single recitation--there seems somethingof practice in all this."

  "A single recitation, my honoured sir?" exclaimed the Independent--"alack, the rhyme is seldom out of my poor master's mouth, when, assometimes haps, he is less triumphant in his wrestles with Satan. But itwas the first time I ever heard it uttered by another; and, to saytruth, he ever seems to repeat it unwillingly, as a child after hispedagogue, and as it was not indited by his own head, as the Psalmistsaith."

  "It is singular," said Everard;--"I have heard and read that the spiritsof the slaughtered have strange power over the slayer; but I amastonished to have it insisted upon that there may be truth in suchtales. Roger Wildrake--what art thou afraid of, man?--why dost thoushift thy place thus?"

  "Fear? it is not fear--it is hate, deadly hate.--I see the murderer ofpoor Dick before me, and--see, he throws himself into a posture offence--Sa--sa--say'st thou, brood of a butcher's mastiff? thou shalt notwant an antagonist."

  Ere any one could stop him, Wildrake threw aside his cloak, drew hissword, and almost with a single bound cleared the distance betwixt himand Harrison, and crossed swords with the latter, as he stoodbrandishing his weapon, as if in immediate expectation of an assailant.Accordingly, the Republican General was not for an instant taken atunawares, but the moment the swords clashed, he shouted, "Ha! I feelthee now, thou hast come in body at last.--Welcome! welcome!--the swordof the Lord and of Gideon!"

  "Part them, part them!" cried Everard, as he and Tomkins, at firstastonished at the suddenness of the affray, hastened to interfere.Everard, seizing on the cavalier, drew him forcibly backwards, andTomkins contrived, with risk and difficulty, to master Harrison's sword,while the General exclaimed, "Ha! two to one--two to one!--thus fightdemons." Wildrake, on his side, swore a dreadful oath, and added,"Markham, you have cancelled every obligation I owed you--they are allout of sight--gone, d--n me!"

  "You have indeed acquitted these obligations rarely," said Everard, "Whoknows how this affair shall be explained and answered?"

  "I will answer it with my life," said Wildrake.

  "Good now, be silent," said Tomkins, "and let me manage. It shall be soordered that the good General shall never know that he hath encounteredwith a mortal man; only let that man of Moab put his sword into thescabbard's rest, and be still."

  "Wildrake, let me entreat thee to sheathe thy sword," said Everard,"else, on my life, thou must turn it against me."

  "No, 'fore George, not so mad as that neither, but I'll have another daywith him."

  "Thou, another day!" exclaimed Harrison, whose eye had still remainedfixed on the spot where he found such palpable resistance. "Yes, I knowthee well; day by day, week by week, thou makest the same idle request,for thou knowest that my heart quivers at thy voice. But my handtrembles not when opposed to thine--the spirit is willing to the combat,if the flesh be weak when opposed to that which is not of the flesh."

  "Now, peace all, for Heaven's sake,"--said the steward Tomkins; thenadded, addressing his master, "there is no one here, if it please yourExcellency, but Tomkins and the worthy Colonel Everard."

  General Harrison, as sometimes happens in cases of partial insanity,(that is, supposing his to have been a case of mental delusion,) thoughfirmly and entirely persuaded of the truth of his own visions, yet wasnot willing to speak on the subject to those who, he knew, would regardthem as imaginary. Upon this occasion, he assumed the appearance ofperfect ease and composure, after the violent agitation he had justmanifested, in a manner which showed how anxious he was to disguise hisreal feelings from Everard, whom he considered so unlikely toparticipate in them.

  He saluted the Colonel with profound ceremony, and talked of thefineness of the evening, which had summoned him forth of the Lodge, totake a turn in the Park, and enjoy the favourable weather. He then tookEverard by the arm, and walked back with him towards the Lodge, Wildrakeand Tomkins following close behind and leading the horses. Everard,desirous to gain some light on these mysterious incidents, endeavouredto come on the subject more than once, by a mode of interrogation, whichHarrison (for madmen are very often unwilling to enter on the subject oftheir mental delusion) parried with some skill, or addressed himself foraid to his steward Tomkins, who was in the habit of being voucher forhis master upon all occasions, which led to Desborough's ingeniousnickname of Fibbet.

  "And wherefore had you your sword drawn, my worthy General," saidEverard, "when you were only on an evening walk of pleasure?"

  "Truly, excellent Colonel, these are times when men must watch withtheir loins girded, and their lights burning, and their weapons drawn.The day draweth nigh, believe me or not as you will, that men must watchlest they be found naked and unarmed, when the seven trumpets shallsound, Boot and saddle; and the pipes of Jezer shall strike up, Horseand away."

 
"True, good General; but methought I saw you making passes, even now, asif you were fighting," said Everard.

  "I am of a strange fantasy, friend Everard," answered Harrison; "andwhen I walk alone, and happen, as but now, to have my weapon drawn, Isometimes, for exercise' sake, will practise a thrust against such atree as that. It is a silly pride men have in the use of weapons. I havebeen accounted a master of fence, and have fought for prizes when I wasunregenerated, and before I was called to do my part in the great work,entering as a trooper into our victorious General's first regiment ofhorse."

  "But methought," said Everard, "I heard a weapon clash with yours?"

  "How? a weapon clash with my sword?--How could that be, Tomkins?"

  "Truly, sir," said Tomkins, "it must have been a bough of the tree; theyhave them of all kinds here, and your honour may have pushed against oneof them, which the Brazilians call iron-wood, a block of which, beingstruck with a hammer, saith Purchas in his Pilgrimage, ringeth like ananvil."

  "Truly, it may be so," said Harrison; "for those rulers who are gone,assembled in this their abode of pleasure many strange trees and plants,though they gathered not of the fruit of that tree which beareth twelvemanner of fruits, or of those leaves which are for the healing of thenations."

  Everard pursued his investigation; for he was struck with the manner inwhich Harrison evaded his questions, and the dexterity with which hethrew his transcendental and fanatical notions, like a sort of veil,over the darker visions excited by remorse and conscious guilt.

  "But," said he, "if I may trust my eyes and ears, I cannot but stillthink that you had a real antagonist.--Nay, I am sure I saw a fellow, ina dark-coloured jerkin, retreat through the wood."

  "Did you?" said Harrison, with a tone of surprise, while his voicefaltered in spite of him--"Who could he be?--Tomkins, did you see thefellow Colonel Everard talks of with the napkin in his hand--the bloodynapkin which he always pressed to his side?"

  This last expression, in which Harrison gave a mark different from thatwhich Everard had assigned, but corresponding to Tomkins's originaldescription of the supposed spectre, had more effect on Everard inconfirming the steward's story, than anything he had witnessed or heard.The voucher answered the draft upon him as promptly as usual, that hehad seen such a fellow glide past them into the thicket--that he daredto say he was some deer-stealer, for he had heard they were become veryaudacious.

  "Look ye there now, Master Everard," said Harrison, hurrying from thesubject--"Is it not time now that we should lay aside our controversies,and join hand in hand to repairing the breaches of our Zion? Happy andcontented were I, my excellent friend, to be a treader of mortar, or abearer of a hod, upon this occasion, under our great leader, with whomProvidence has gone forth in this great national controversy; and truly,so devoutly do I hold by our excellent and victorious General Oliver,whom Heaven long preserve--that were he to command me, I should notscruple to pluck forth of his high place the man whom they call speaker,even as I lent a poor hand to pluck down the man whom they calledKing.--Wherefore, as I know your judgment holdeth with mine on thismatter, let me urge unto you lovingly, that we may act as brethren, andbuild up the breaches, and re-establish the bulwarks of our EnglishZion, whereby we shall be doubtless chosen as pillars and buttresses,under our excellent Lord-General, for supporting and sustaining thesame, and endowed with proper revenues and incomes, both spiritual andtemporal, to serve as a pedestal, on which we may stand, seeing thatotherwise our foundation will be on the loose sand.--Nevertheless,"continued he, his mind again diverging from his views of temporalambition into his visions of the Fifth Monarchy, "these things are butvanity in respect of the opening of the book which is sealed; for allthings approach speedily towards lightning and thundering, and unloosingof the great dragon from the bottomless pit, wherein he is chained."

  With this mingled strain of earthly politics, and fanatical prediction,Harrison so overpowered Colonel Everard, as to leave him no time to urgehim farther on the particular circumstances of his nocturnal skirmish,concerning which it is plain he had no desire to be interrogated. Theynow reached the Lodge of Woodstock.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH.

  Now the wasted brands do glow, While the screech-owl, sounding loud, Puts the wretch that lies in woe, In remembrance of a shroud. Now it is the time of night That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one lets out its sprite, In the church-way paths to glide. MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.

  Before the gate of the palace the guards were now doubled. Everarddemanded the reason of this from the corporal, whom he found in the hallwith his soldiers, sitting or sleeping around a great fire, maintainedat the expense of the carved chairs and benches with fragments of whichit was furnished.

  "Why, verily," answered the man, "the _corps-de-garde_, as your worshipsays, will be harassed to pieces by such duty; nevertheless, fear hathgone abroad among us, and no man will mount guard alone. We have drawnin, however, one or two of our outposts from Banbury and elsewhere, andwe are to have a relief from Oxford to-morrow."

  Everard continued minute enquiries concerning the sentinels that wereposted within as well as without the Lodge; and found that, as they hadbeen stationed under the eye of Harrison himself, the rules of prudentdiscipline had been exactly observed in the distribution of the posts.There remained nothing therefore for Colonel Everard to do, but,remembering his own adventure of the evening, to recommend that anadditional sentinel should be placed, with a companion, if judgedindispensable, in that vestibule, or ante-room, from which the longgallery where he had met with the rencontre, and other suites ofapartments, diverged. The corporal respectfully promised all obedienceto his orders. The serving-men being called, appeared also in doubleforce. Everard demanded to know whether the Commissioners had gone tobed, or whether he could get speech with them? "They are in theirbedroom, forsooth," replied one of the fellows; "but I think they be notyet undressed."

  "What!" said Everard, "are Colonel Desborough and Master Bletson both inthe same sleeping apartment?"

  "Their honours have so chosen it," said the man; "and their honours'secretaries remain upon guard all night."

  "It is the fashion to double guards all over the house," said Wildrake."Had I a glimpse of a tolerably good-looking house-maid now, I shouldknow how to fall into the fashion."

  "Peace, fool!" said Everard.--"And where are the Mayor and MasterHoldenough?"

  "The Mayor is returned to the borough on horseback, behind the trooper,who goes to Oxford for the reinforcement; and the man of thesteeple-house hath quartered himself in the chamber which ColonelDesborough had last night, being that in which he is most likely to meetthe--your honour understands. The Lord pity us, we are a harassedfamily!"

  "And where be General Harrison's knaves," said Tomkins, "that they donot marshal him to his apartment?"

  "Here--here--here, Master Tomkins," said three fellows, pressingforward, with the same consternation on their faces which seemed topervade the whole inhabitants of Woodstock.

  "Away with you, then," said Tomkins;--"speak not to his worship--you seehe is not in the humour."

  "Indeed," observed Colonel Everard, "he looks singularly wan--hisfeatures seem writhen as by a palsy stroke; and though he was talking sofast while we came along, he hath not opened his mouth since we came tothe light."

  "It is his manner after such visitations," said Tomkins.--"Give hishonour your arms, Zedekiah and Jonathan, to lead him off--I will followinstantly.--You, Nicodemus, tarry to wait upon me--it is not wellwalking alone in this mansion."

  "Master Tomkins," said Everard, "I have heard of you often as a sharp,intelligent man--tell me fairly, are you in earnest afraid of any thingsupernatural haunting this house?"

  "I would be loth to run the chance, sir," said Tomkins very gravely; "bylooking on my worshipful master, you may form a guess how the livinglook after they have spoken with the dead." He bowed low, and took hisleave. Everard proceeded to the
chamber which the two remainingCommissioners had, for comfort's sake, chosen to inhabit in company.They were preparing for bed as he went into their apartment. Bothstarted as the door opened--both rejoiced when they saw it was onlyEverard who entered.

  "Hark ye hither," said Bletson, pulling him aside, "sawest thou ever assequal to Desborough?--the fellow is as big as an ox, and as timorous asa sheep. He has insisted on my sleeping here, to protect him. Shall wehave a merry night on't, ha? We will, if thou wilt take the third bed,which was prepared for Harrison; but he is gone out, like a mooncalf, tolook for the valley of Armageddon in the Park of Woodstock."

  "General Harrison has returned with me but now," said Everard.

  "Nay but, as I shall live, he comes not into our apartment," saidDesborough, overhearing his answer. "No man that has been supping, foraught I know, with the Devil, has a right to sleep among Christianfolk."

  "He does not propose so," said Everard; "he sleeps, as I understand,apart--and alone."

  "Not quite alone, I dare say," said Desborough; "for Harrison hath asort of attraction for goblins--they fly round him like moths about acandle:--But, I prithee, good Everard, do thou stay with us. I know nothow it is, but although thou hast not thy religion always in thy mouth,nor speakest many hard words about it, like Harrison--nor makest longpreachments, like a certain most honourable relation of mine who shallbe nameless, yet somehow I feel myself safer in thy company than withany of them. As for this Bletson, he is such a mere blasphemer, that Ifear the Devil will carry him away ere morning."

  "Did you ever hear such a paltry coward?" said Bletson, apart toEverard. "Do tarry, however, mine honoured Colonel--I know your zeal toassist the distressed, and you see Desborough is in that predicament,that he will require near him more than one example to prevent himthinking of ghosts and fiends."

  "I am sorry I cannot oblige you, gentlemen," said Everard; "but I havesettled my mind to sleep in Victor Lee's apartment, so I wish you goodnight; and, if you would repose without disturbance, I would advise thatyou commend yourselves, during the watches of the night, to Him untowhom night is even as mid-day. I had intended to have spoke with youthis evening on the subject of my being here; but I will defer theconference till to-morrow, when, I think, I will be able to show youexcellent reasons for leaving Woodstock."

  "We have seen plenty such already," said Desborough; "for one, I camehere to serve the estate, with some moderate advantage to myself for mytrouble; but if I am set upon my head again to-night, as I was the nightbefore, I would not stay longer to gain a king's crown; for I am sure myneck would be unfitted to bear the weight of it."

  "Good night," exclaimed Everard; and was about to go, when Bletson againpressed close, and whispered to him, "Hark thee, Colonel--you know myfriendship for thee--I do implore thee to leave the door of thyapartment open, that if thou meetest with any disturbance, I may hearthee call, and be with thee upon the very instant. Do this, dearEverard, my fears for thee will keep me awake else; for I know that,notwithstanding your excellent sense, you entertain some of thosesuperstitious ideas which we suck in with our mother's milk, and whichconstitute the ground of our fears in situations like the present;therefore leave thy door open, if you love me, that you may have readyassistance from me in case of need."

  "My master," said Wildrake, "trusts, first, in his Bible, sir, and thenin his good sword. He has no idea that the Devil can be baffled by thecharm of two men lying in one room, still less that the foul fiend canbe argued out of existence by the Nullifidians of the Rota."

  Everard seized his imprudent friend by the collar, and dragged him offas he was speaking, keeping fast hold of him till they were both in thechamber of Victor Lee, where they had slept on a former occasion. Eventhen he continued to hold Wildrake, until the servant had arranged thelights, and was dismissed from the room; then letting him go, addressedhim with the upbraiding question, "Art thou not a prudent and sagaciousperson, who in times like these seek'st every opportunity to argueyourself into a broil, or embroil yourself in an argument? Out on you!"

  "Ay, out on me indeed," said the cavalier; "out on me for a poortame-spirited creature, that submits to be bandied about in this manner,by a man who is neither better born nor better bred than myself. I tellthee, Mark, you make an unfair use of your advantages over me. Why willyou not let me go from you, and live and die after my own fashion?"

  "Because, before we had been a week separate, I should hear of yourdying after the fashion of a dog. Come, my good friend, what madness wasit in thee to fall foul on Harrison, and then to enter into uselessargument with Bletson?"

  "Why, we are in the Devil's house, I think, and I would willingly givethe landlord his due wherever I travel. To have sent him Harrison, orBletson now, just as a lunch to stop his appetite, till Crom"--

  "Hush! stone walls have ears," said Everard, looking around him. "Herestands thy night-drink. Look to thy arms, for we must be as careful asif the Avenger of Blood were behind us. Yonder is thy bed--and I, asthou seest, have one prepared in the parlour. The door only divides us."

  "Which I will leave open, in case thou shouldst holla for assistance, asyonder Nullifidian hath it--But how hast thou got all this so well putin order, good patron?"

  "I gave the steward Tomkins notice of my purpose to sleep here."

  "A strange fellow that," said Wildrake, "and, as I judge, has takenmeasure of every one's foot--all seems to pass through his hands."

  "He is, I have understood," replied Everard, "one of the men formed bythe times--has a ready gift of preaching and expounding, which keeps himin high terms with the Independents; and recommends himself to the moremoderate people by his intelligence and activity."

  "Has his sincerity ever been doubted?" said Wildrake.

  "Never, that I heard of," said the Colonel; "on the contrary, he hasbeen familiarly called Honest Joe, and Trusty Tomkins. For my part, Ibelieve his sincerity has always kept pace with his interest.--But come,finish thy cup, and to bed.--What, all emptied at one draught!"

  "Adszookers, yes--my vow forbids me to make two on't; but, neverfear--the nightcap will only warm my brain, not clog it. So, man ordevil, give me notice if you are disturbed, and rely on me in atwinkling." So saying, the cavalier retreated into his separateapartment, and Colonel Everard, taking off the most cumbrous part of hisdress, lay down in his hose and doublet, and composed himself to rest.

  He was awakened from sleep by a slow and solemn strain of music, whichdied away as at a distance. He started up, and felt for his arms, whichhe found close beside him. His temporary bed being without curtains, hecould look around him without difficulty; but as there remained in thechimney only a few red embers of the fire which he had arranged beforehe went to sleep, it was impossible he could discern any thing. He felt,therefore, in spite of his natural courage, that undefined and thrillingspecies of tremor which attends a sense that danger is near, and anuncertainty concerning its cause and character. Reluctant as he was toyield belief to supernatural occurrences, we have already said he wasnot absolutely incredulous; as perhaps, even in this more sceptical age,there are many fewer complete and absolute infidels on this particularthan give themselves out for such. Uncertain whether he had not dreamedof these sounds which seemed yet in his ears, he was unwilling to riskthe raillery of his friend by summoning him to his assistance. He satup, therefore, in his bed, not without experiencing that nervousagitation to which brave men as well as cowards are subject; with thisdifference, that the one sinks under it, like the vine under thehailstorm, and the other collects his energies to shake it off, as thecedar of Lebanon is said to elevate its boughs to disperse the snowwhich accumulates upon them.

  The story of Harrison, in his own absolute despite, and notwithstandinga secret suspicion which he had of trick or connivance, returned on hismind at this dead and solitary hour. Harrison, he remembered, haddescribed the vision by a circumstance of its appearance different fromthat which his own remark had been calculated to suggest to the mind ofthe visionary;--that bl
oody napkin, always pressed to the side, was thena circumstance present either to his bodily eye, or to that of hisagitated imagination. Did, then, the murdered revisit the living hauntsof those who had forced them from the stage with all their sinsunaccounted for? And if they did, might not the same permissionauthorise other visitations of a similar nature, to warn--to instruct--to punish? Rash are they, was his conclusion, and credulous, who receiveas truth every tale of the kind; but no less rash may it be, to limitthe power of the Creator over the works which he has made, and tosuppose that, by the permission of the Author of Nature, the laws ofNature may not, in peculiar cases, and for high purposes, be temporarilysuspended.

  While these thoughts passed through Everard's mind, feelings unknown tohim, even when he stood first on the rough and perilous edge of battle,gained ground upon him. He feared he knew not what; and where an openand discernible peril would have drawn out his courage, the absoluteuncertainty of his situation increased his sense of the danger. He feltan almost irresistible desire to spring from his bed and heap fuel onthe dying embers, expecting by the blaze to see some strange sight inhis chamber. He was also strongly tempted to awaken Wildrake; but shame,stronger than fear itself, checked these impulses. What! should it bethought that Markham Everard, held one of the best soldiers who haddrawn a sword in this sad war--Markham Everard, who had obtained suchdistinguished rank in the army of the Parliament, though so young inyears, was afraid of remaining by himself in a twilight-room atmidnight? It never should be said.

  This was, however, no charm for his unpleasant current of thought. Thererushed on his mind the various traditions of Victor Lee's chamber,which, though he had often despised them as vague, unauthenticated, andinconsistent rumours, engendered by ancient superstition, andtransmitted from generation to generation by loquacious credulity, hadsomething in them, which, did not tend to allay the present unpleasantstate of his nerves. Then, when he recollected the events of that veryafternoon, the weapon pressed against his throat, and the strong armwhich threw him backward on the floor--if the remembrance served tocontradict the idea of flitting phantoms, and unreal daggers, itcertainly induced him to believe, that there was in some part of thisextensive mansion a party of cavaliers, or malignants, harboured, whomight arise in the night, overpower the guards, and execute upon themall, but on Harrison in particular, as one of the regicide judges, thatvengeance, which was so eagerly thirsted for by the attached followersof the slaughtered monarch.

  He endeavoured to console himself on this subject by the number andposition of the guards, yet still was dissatisfied with himself for nothaving taken yet more exact precautions, and for keeping an extortedpromise of silence, which might consign so many of his party to thedanger of assassination. These thoughts, connected with his militaryduties, awakened another train of reflections. He bethought himself,that all he could now do, was to visit the sentries, and ascertain thatthey were awake, alert, on the watch, and so situated, that in time ofneed they might be ready to support each other.--"This better befitsme," he thought, "than to be here like a child, frightening myself withthe old woman's legend, which I have laughed at when a boy. Whatalthough old Victor Lee was a sacrilegious man, as common report goes,and brewed ale in the font which he brought from the ancient palace ofHolyrood, while church and building were in flames? And what althoughhis eldest son was when a child scalded to death in the same vessel? Howmany churches have been demolished since his time? How many fontsdesecrated? So many indeed, that were the vengeance of Heaven to visitsuch aggressions in a supernatural manner, no corner in England, no, notthe most petty parish church, but would have its apparition.--Tush,these are idle fancies, unworthy, especially, to be entertained by thoseeducated to believe that sanctity resides in the intention and the act,not in the buildings or fonts, or the form of worship."

  As thus he called together the articles of his Calvinistic creed, thebell of the great clock (a token seldom silent in such narratives)tolled three, and was immediately followed by the hoarse call of thesentinels through vault and gallery, up stairs and beneath, challengingand answering each other with the usual watch-word, All's Well. Theirvoices mingled with the deep boom of the bell, yet ceased before thatwas silent, and when they had died away, the tingling echo of theprolonged knell was scarcely audible. Ere yet that last distant tinglinghad finally subsided into silence, it seemed as if it again wasawakened; and Everard could hardly judge at first whether a new echo hadtaken up the falling cadence, or whether some other and separate soundwas disturbing anew the silence to which the deep knell had, as itsvoice ceased, consigned the ancient mansion and the woods around it.

  But the doubt was soon cleared up. The musical tones which had mingledwith the dying echoes of the knell, seemed at first to prolong, andafterwards to survive them. A wild strain of melody, beginning at adistance, and growing louder as it advanced, seemed to pass from room toroom, from cabinet to gallery, from hall to bower, through the desertedand dishonoured ruins of the ancient residence of so many sovereigns;and, as it approached, no soldier gave alarm, nor did any of thenumerous guests of various degrees, who spent an unpleasant andterrified night in that ancient mansion, seem to dare to announce toeach other the inexplicable cause of apprehension.

  Everard's excited state of mind did not permit him to be so passive. Thesounds approached so nigh, that it seemed they were performing, in thevery next apartment, a solemn service for the dead, when he gave thealarm, by calling loudly to his trusty attendant and friend Wildrake,who slumbered in the next chamber with only a door betwixt them, andeven that ajar. "Wildrake--Wildrake!--Up--Up! Dost thou not hear thealarm?" There was no answer from Wildrake, though the musical sounds,which now rung through the apartment, as if the performers had actuallybeen, within its precincts, would have been sufficient to awaken asleeping person, even without the shout of his comrade and patron.

  "Alarm!--Roger Wildrake--alarm!" again called Everard, getting out ofbed and grasping his weapons--"Get a light, and cry alarm!" There was noanswer. His voice died away as the sound of the music seemed also todie; and the same soft sweet voice, which still to his thinkingresembled that of Alice Lee, was heard in his apartment, and, as hethought, at no distance from him.

  "Your comrade will not answer," said the low soft voice. "Those onlyhear the alarm whose consciences feel the call!"

  "Again this mummery!" said Everard. "I am better armed than I was oflate; and but for the sound of that voice, the speaker had bought histrifling dear."

  It was singular, we may observe in passing, that the instant thedistinct sounds of the human voice were heard by Everard, all idea ofsupernatural interference was at an end, and the charm by which he hadbeen formerly fettered appeared to be broken; so much is the influenceof imaginary or superstitious terror dependent (so far as respectsstrong judgments at least) upon what is vague or ambiguous; and soreadily do distinct tones, and express ideas, bring such judgments backto the current of ordinary life. The voice returned answer, asaddressing his thoughts as well as his words.

  "We laugh at the weapons thou thinkest should terrify us--Over theguardians of Woodstock they have no power. Fire, if thou wilt, and trythe effect of thy weapons. But know, it is not our purpose to harmthee--thou art of a falcon breed, and noble in thy disposition, though,unreclaimed and ill-nurtured, thou hauntest with kites and carrioncrows. Wing thy flight from hence on the morrow, for if thou tarriestwith the bats, owls, vultures and ravens, which have thought to nestlehere, thou wilt inevitably share their fate. Away then, that these hallsmay be swept and garnished for the reception of those who have a betterright to inhabit them."

  Everard answered in a raised voice.--"Once more I warn you, think not todefy me in vain. I am no child to be frightened by goblins' tales; andno coward, armed as I am, to be alarmed at the threats of banditti. If Igive you a moment's indulgence, it is for the sake of dear and misguidedfriends, who may be concerned with this dangerous gambol. Know, I canbring a troop of soldiers round the castle, who will search its mostinwa
rd recesses for the author of this audacious frolic; and if thatsearch should fail, it will cost but a few barrels of gunpowder to makethe mansion a heap of ruins, and bury under them the authors of such anill-judged pastime."

  "You speak proudly, Sir Colonel," said another voice, similar to thatharsher and stronger tone by which he had been addressed in the gallery;"try your courage in this direction."

  "You should not dare me twice," said Colonel Everard, "had I a glimpseof light to take aim by."

  As he spoke, a sudden gleam of light was thrown with a brilliancy whichalmost dazzled the speaker, showing distinctly a form somewhatresembling that of Victor Lee, as represented in his picture, holding inone hand a lady completely veiled, and in the other his leading-staff,or truncheon. Both figures were animated, and, as it appeared, standingwithin six feet of him.

  "Were it not for the woman," said Everard, "I would not be thus mortallydared."

  "Spare not for the female form, but do your worst," replied the samevoice. "I defy you."

  "Repeat your defiance when I have counted thrice," said Everard, "andtake the punishment of your insolence. Once--I have cocked my pistol--Twice--I never missed my aim--By all that is sacred, I fire if you donot withdraw. When I pronounce the next number, I will shoot you deadwhere you stand. I am yet unwilling to shed blood--I give you anotherchance of flight--once--twice--THRICE!"

  Everard aimed at the bosom, and discharged his pistol. The figure wavedits arm in an attitude of scorn; and a loud laugh arose, during whichthe light, as gradually growing weaker, danced and glimmered upon theapparition of the aged knight, and then disappeared. Everard'slife-blood ran cold to his heart--"Had he been of human mould," hethought, "the bullet must have pierced him--but I have neither will norpower to fight with supernatural beings."

  The feeling of oppression was now so strong as to be actually sickening.He groped his way, however, to the fireside, and flung on the emberswhich were yet gleaming, a handful of dry fuel. It presently blazed, andafforded him light to see the room in every direction. He lookedcautiously, almost timidly, around, and half expected some horriblephantom to become visible. But he saw nothing save the old furniture,the reading desk, and other articles, which had been left in the samestate as when Sir Henry Lee departed. He felt an uncontrollable desire,mingled with much repugnance, to look at the portrait of the ancientknight, which the form he had seen so strongly resembled. He hesitatedbetwixt the opposing feelings, but at length snatched, with desperateresolution, the taper which he had extinguished, and relighted it, erethe blaze of the fuel had again died away. He held it up to the ancientportrait of Victor Lee, and gazed on it with eager curiosity, notunmingled with fear. Almost the childish terrors of his earlier daysreturned, and he thought the severe pale eye of the ancient warriorfollowed his, and menaced him with its displeasure. And although hequickly argued himself out of such an absurd belief, yet the mixedfeelings of his mind were expressed in words that seemed half addressedto the ancient portrait.

  "Soul of my mother's ancestor," he said, "be it for weal or for woe, bydesigning men, or by supernatural beings, that these ancient halls aredisturbed, I am resolved to leave them on the morrow."

  "I rejoice to hear it, with all my soul," said a voice behind him.

  He turned, saw a tall figure in white, with a sort of turban upon itshead, and dropping the candle in the exertion, instantly grappled withit.

  "_Thou_ at least art palpable," he said.

  "Palpable?" answered he whom he grasped so strongly--"'Sdeath, methinksyou might know that--without the risk of choking me; and if you loose menot, I'll show you that two can play at the game of wrestling."

  "Roger Wildrake!" said Everard, letting the cavalier loose, and steppingback.

  "Roger Wildrake? ay, truly. Did you take me for Roger Bacon, come tohelp you raise the devil?--for the place smells of sulphur consumedly."

  "It is the pistol I fired--Did you not hear it?"

  "Why, yes, it was the first thing waked me--for that nightcap which Ipulled on, made me sleep like a dormouse--Pshaw, I feel my brains giddywith it yet."

  "And wherefore came you not on the instant?--I never needed help more."

  "I came as fast as I could," answered Wildrake; "but it was some timeere I got my senses collected, for I was dreaming of that cursed fieldat Naseby--and then the door of my room was shut, and hard to open, tillI played the locksmith with my foot."

  "How! it was open when I went to bed," said Everard.

  "It was locked when I came out of bed, though," said Wildrake, "and Imarvel you heard me not when I forced it open."

  "My mind was occupied otherwise," said Everard.

  "Well," said Wildrake, "but what has happened?--Here am I bolt upright,and ready to fight, if this yawning fit will give me leave--MotherRedcap's mightiest is weaker than I drank last night, by a bushel to abarleycorn--I have quaffed the very elixir of malt--Ha--yaw."

  "And some opiate besides, I should think," said Everard.

  "Very like--very like--less than the pistol-shot would not waken me;even me, who with but an ordinary grace-cup, sleep as lightly as amaiden on the first of May, when she watches for the earliest beam to goto gather dew. But what are you about to do next?"

  "Nothing," answered Everard.

  "Nothing?" said Wildrake, in surprise.

  "I speak it," said Colonel Everard, "less for your information, than forthat of others who may hear me, that I will leave the Lodge thismorning, and, if it is possible, remove the Commissioners."

  "Hark," said Wildrake, "do you not hear some noise like the distantsound of the applause of a theatre? The goblins of the place rejoice inyour departure."

  "I shall leave Woodstock," said Everard, "to the occupation of my uncleSir Henry Lee, and his family, if they choose to resume it; not that Iam frightened into this as a concession to the series of artifices whichhave been played off on this occasion, but solely because such was myintention from the beginning. But let me warn," (he added, raising hisvoice,)--"let me warn the parties concerned in this combination, thatthough it may pass off successfully on a fool like Desborough, avisionary like Harrison, a coward like Bletson"--

  Here a voice distinctly spoke, as standing near them--"or a wise,moderate, and resolute person, like Colonel Everard."

  "By Heaven, the voice came from the picture," said Wildrake, drawing hissword; "I will pink his plated armour for him."

  "Offer no violence," said Everard, startled at the interruption, butresuming with firmness what he was saying--"Let those engaged be aware,that however this string of artifices may be immediately successful, itmust, when closely looked into, be attended with the punishment of allconcerned--the total demolition of Woodstock, and the irremediabledownfall of the family of Lee. Let all concerned think of this, anddesist in time."

  He paused, and almost expected a reply, but none such came.

  "It is a very odd thing," said Wildrake; "but--yaw-ha--my brain cannotcompass it just now; it whirls round like a toast in a bowl ofmuscadine; I must sit down--haw-yaw--and discuss it at leisure--Gramercy, good elbow-chair."

  So saying, he threw himself, or rather sank gradually down on a largeeasy-chair which had been often pressed by the weight of stout Sir HenryLee, and in an instant was sound asleep. Everard was far from feelingthe same inclination for slumber, yet his mind was relieved of theapprehension of any farther visitation that night; for he considered histreaty to evacuate Woodstock as made known to, and accepted in allprobability by, those whom the intrusion of the Commissioners hadinduced to take such singular measures for expelling them. His opinion,which had for a time bent towards a belief in something supernatural inthe disturbances, had now returned to the more rational mode ofaccounting for them by dexterous combination, for which such a mansionas Woodstock afforded so many facilities.

  He heaped the hearth with fuel, lighted the candle, and examining poorWildrake's situation, adjusted him as easily in the chair as he could,the cavalier stirring his limbs no more than an in
fant. His situationwent far, in his patron's opinion, to infer trick and confederacy, forghosts have no occasion to drug men's possets. He threw himself on thebed, and while he thought these strange circumstances over, a sweet andlow strain of music stole through the chamber, the words "Goodnight--good night--good night," thrice repeated, each time in a softerand more distant tone, seeming to assure him that the goblins and hewere at truce, if not at peace, and that he had no more disturbance toexpect that night. He had scarcely the courage to call out a "goodnight;" for, after all his conviction of the existence of a trick, itwas so well performed as to bring with it a feeling of fear, just likewhat an audience experience during the performance of a tragic scene,which they know to be unreal, and which yet affects their passions byits near approach to nature. Sleep overtook him at last, and left himnot till broad daylight on the ensuing morning.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH.

  And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger. At whose approach ghosts, wandering here and there, Troop home to churchyard.

  MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.

  With the fresh air and the rising of morning, every feeling of thepreceding night had passed away from Colonel Everard's mind, exceptingwonder how the effects which he had witnessed could be produced. Heexamined the whole room, sounding bolt, floor, and wainscot with hisknuckles and cane, but was unable to discern any secret passages; whilethe door, secured by a strong cross-bolt, and the lock besides, remainedas firm as when he had fastened it on the preceding evening. Theapparition resembling Victor Lee next called his attention. Ridiculousstories had been often circulated, of this figure, or one exactlyresembling it, having been met with by night among the waste apartmentsand corridors of the old palace; and Markham Everard had often heardsuch in his childhood. He was angry to recollect his own deficiency ofcourage, and the thrill which he felt on the preceding night, when byconfederacy, doubtless, such an object was placed before his eyes.

  "Surely," he said, "this fit of childish folly could not make me miss myaim--more likely that the bullet had been withdrawn clandestinely fromthe pistol."

  He examined that which was undischarged--he found the bullet in it. Heinvestigated the apartment opposite to the point at which he had fired,and, at five feet from the floor in a direct line between the bed-sideand the place where the appearance had been seen, a pistol-ball hadrecently buried itself in the wainscot. He had little doubt, therefore,that he had fired in a just direction; and indeed to have arrived at theplace where it was lodged, the bullet must have passed through theappearance at which he aimed, and proceeded point blank to the wallbeyond. This was mysterious, and induced him to doubt whether the art ofwitchcraft or conjuration had not been called in to assist themachinations of those daring conspirators, who, being themselves mortal,might, nevertheless, according to the universal creed of the times, haveinvoked and obtained assistance from the inhabitants of another world.

  His next investigation respected the picture of Victor Lee itself. Heexamined it minutely as he stood on the floor before it, and comparedits pale, shadowy, faintly-traced outlines, its faded colours, the sternrepose of the eye, and death-like pallidness of the countenance, withits different aspect on the preceding night, when illuminated by theartificial light which fell full upon it, while it left every other partof the room in comparative darkness. The features seemed then to have anunnatural glow, while the rising and falling of the flame in the chimneygave the head and limbs something which resembled the appearance ofactual motion. Now, seen by day, it was a mere picture of the hard andancient school of Holbein; last night, it seemed for the momentsomething more. Determined to get to the bottom of this contrivance ifpossible, Everard, by the assistance of a table and chair, examined theportrait still more closely, and endeavoured to ascertain the existenceof any private spring, by which it might be slipt aside,--a contrivancenot unfrequent in ancient buildings, which usually abounded with meansof access and escape, communicated to none but the lords of the castle,or their immediate confidants. But the panel on which Victor Lee waspainted was firmly fixed in the wainscoting of the apartment, of whichit made a part, and the Colonel satisfied himself that it could not havebeen used for the purpose which he had suspected.

  He next aroused his faithful squire, Wildrake, who, notwithstanding hisdeep share of the "blessedness of sleep," had scarce even yet got rid ofthe effects of the grace-cup of the preceding evening. "It was thereward," according to his own view of the matter, "of his temperance;one single draught having made him sleep more late and more sound than amatter of half-a-dozen, or from thence to a dozen pulls, would havedone, when he was guilty of the enormity of rere-suppers, [Footnote:Rere-suppers (_quasi arriere_) belonged to a species of luxuryintroduced in the jolly days of King James's extravagance, and continuedthrough the subsequent reign. The supper took place at an early hour,six or seven o'clock at latest--the rere-supper was a postliminarybanquet, a _hors d'oeuvre_, which made its appearance at ten or eleven,and served as an apology for prolonging the entertainment tillmidnight.] and of drinking deep after them."

  "Had your temperate draught," said Everard, "been but a thought morestrongly seasoned, Wildrake, thou hadst slept so sound that the lasttrump only could have waked thee."

  "And then," answered Wildrake, "I should have waked with a headache,Mark; for I see my modest sip has not exempted me from that epilogue.--But let us go forth, and see how the night, which we have passed sostrangely, has been spent by the rest of them. I suspect they are allright willing to evacuate Woodstock, unless they have either restedbetter than we, or at least been more lucky in lodgings."

  "In that case, I will dispatch thee down to Joceline's hut, to negotiatethe re-entrance of Sir Henry Lee and his family into their oldapartments, where, my interest with the General being joined with theindifferent repute of the place itself, I think they have little chanceof being disturbed either by the present, or by any new Commissioners."

  "But how are they to defend themselves against the fiends, my gallantColonel?" said Wildrake. "Methinks had I an interest in yonder prettygirl, such as thou dost boast, I should be loth to expose her to theterrors of a residence at Woodstock, where these devils--I beg theirpardon, for I suppose they hear every word we say--these merrygoblins--make such gay work from twilight till morning."

  "My dear Wildrake," said the Colonel, "I, as well as you, believe itpossible that our speech may be overheard; but I care not, and willspeak my mind plainly. I trust Sir Henry and Alice are not engaged inthis silly plot; I cannot reconcile it with the pride of the one, themodesty of the other, nor the good sense of both, that any motive couldengage them in so strange a conjunction. But the fiends are all of yourown political persuasion, Wildrake, all true-blue cavaliers; and I amconvinced, that Sir Henry and Alice Lee, though they be unconnected withthem, have not the slightest cause to be apprehensive of their goblinmachinations. Besides, Sir Henry and Joceline must know every cornerabout the place: it will be far more difficult to play off any ghostlymachinery upon him than upon strangers. But let us to our toilet, andwhen water and brush have done their work, we will enquire--what is nextto be done."

  "Nay, that wretched puritan's garb of mine is hardly worth brushing,"said Wildrake; "and but for this hundred-weight of rusty iron, withwhich thou hast bedizened me, I look more like a bankrupt Quaker thananything else. But I'll make _you_ as spruce as ever was a canting rogueof your party."

  So saying, and humming at the same time the cavalier tune,--

  "Though for a time we see Whitehall With cobwebs hung around the wall, Yet Heaven shall make amends for all. When the King shall enjoy his own again."--

  "Thou forgettest who are without," said Colonel Everard.

  "No--I remember who are within," replied his friend. "I only sing to mymerry goblins, who will like me all the better for it. Tush, man, thedevils are my _bonos socios_, and when I see them, I will warrant theyprove such roaring boys as I knew when I served under Lunford a
ndGoring, fellows with long nails that nothing escaped, bottomlessstomachs, that nothing filled,--mad for pillaging, ranting, drinking,and fighting,--sleeping rough on the trenches, and dying stubbornly intheir boots. Ah! those merry days are gone. Well, it is the fashion tomake a grave face on't among cavaliers, and specially the parsons thathave lost their tithe-pigs; but I was fitted for the element of thetime, and never did or can desire merrier days than I had during thatsame barbarous, bloody, and unnatural rebellion."

  "Thou wert ever a wild sea-bird, Roger, even according to your name;liking the gale better than the calm, the boisterous ocean better thanthe smooth lake, and your rough, wild struggle against the wind, thandaily food, ease and quiet."

  "Pshaw! a fig for your smooth lake, and your old woman to feed me withbrewer's grains, and the poor drake obliged to come swattering whenevershe whistles! Everard, I like to feel the wind rustle against mypinions,--now diving, now on the crest of the wave, now in ocean, now insky--that is the wild-drake's joy, my grave one! And in the Civil War soit went with us--down in one county, up in another, beaten to-day,victorious tomorrow--now starving in some barren leaguer--now revellingin a Presbyterian's pantry--his cellars, his plate-chest, his oldjudicial thumb-ring, his pretty serving-wench, all at command!"

  "Hush, friend," said Everard; "remember I hold that persuasion." "Morethe pity, Mark, more the pity," said Wildrake; "but, as you say, it isneedless talking of it. Let us e'en go and see how your Presbyterianpastor, Mr. Holdenough, has fared, and whether he has proved more ableto foil the foul Fiend than have you his disciple and auditor."

  They left the apartment accordingly, and were overwhelmed with thevarious incoherent accounts of sentinels and others, all of whom hadseen or heard something extraordinary in the course of the night. It isneedless to describe particularly the various rumours which eachcontributed to the common stock, with the greater alacrity that in suchcases there seems always to be a sort of disgrace in not having seen orsuffered as much as others.

  The most moderate of the narrators only talked of sounds like the mewingof a cat, or the growling of a dog, especially the squeaking of a pig.They heard also as if it had been nails driven and saws used, and theclashing of fetters, and the rustling of silk gowns, and the notes ofmusic, and in short all sorts of sounds which have nothing to do witheach other. Others swore they had smelt savours of various kinds,chiefly bituminous, indicating a Satanic derivation; others did notindeed swear, but protested, to visions of men in armour, horses withoutheads, asses with horns, and cows with six legs, not to mention blackfigures, whose cloven hoofs gave plain information what realm theybelonged to.

  But these strongly-attested cases of nocturnal disturbances among thesentinels had been so general as to prevent alarm and succour on anyparticular point, so that those who were on duty called in vain on the_corps-de-garde_, who were trembling on their own post; and an alertenemy might have done complete execution on the whole garrison. But amidthis general _alerte_, no violence appeared to be meant, and annoyance,not injury, seemed to have been the goblins' object, excepting in thecase of one poor fellow, a trooper, who had followed Harrison in halfhis battles, and now was sentinel in that very vestibule upon whichEverard had recommended them to mount a guard. He had presented hiscarabine at something which came suddenly upon him, when it was wrestedout of his hands, and he himself knocked down with the butt-end of it.His broken head, and the drenched bedding of Desborough, upon whom a tubof ditch-water had been emptied during his sleep, were the only piecesof real evidence to attest the disturbances of the night.

  The reports from Harrison's apartment were, as delivered by the graveMaster Tomkins, that truly the General had passed the night undisturbed,though there was still upon him a deep sleep, and a folding of the handsto slumber; from which Everard argued that the machinators had esteemedHarrison's part of the reckoning sufficiently paid off on the precedingevening.

  He then proceeded to the apartment doubly garrisoned by the worshipfulDesborough, and the philosophical Bletson. They were both up anddressing themselves; the former open-mouthed in his feeling of fear andsuffering. Indeed, no sooner had Everard entered, than the ducked anddismayed Colonel made a dismal complaint of the way he had spent thenight, and murmured not a little against his worshipful kinsman forimposing a task upon him which inferred so much annoyance.

  "Could not his Excellency, my kinsman Noll," he said, "have given hispoor relative and brother-in-law a sop somewhere else than out of thisWoodstock, which seems to be the devil's own porridge-pot? I cannot supbroth with the devil; I have no long spoon--not I. Could he not havequartered me in some quiet corner, and given this haunted place to someof his preachers and prayers, who know the Bible as well as themuster-roll? whereas I know the four hoofs of a clean-going nag, or thepoints of a team of oxen, better than all the books of Moses. But I willgive it over, at once and for ever; hopes of earthly gain shall nevermake me run the risk of being carried away bodily by the devil, besidesbeing set upon my head one whole night, and soused with ditch-water thenext--No, no; I am too wise for that."

  Master Bletson had a different part to act. He complained of no personalannoyances; on the contrary, he declared he should have slept as well asever he did in his life but for the abominable disturbances around him,of men calling to arms every half hour, when so much as a cat trotted byone of their posts--He would rather, he said, "have slept among a wholesabaoth of witches, if such creatures could be found."

  "Then you think there are no such things as apparitions, MasterBletson?" said Everard. "I used to be sceptical on the subject; but, onmy life, to-night has been a strange one."

  "Dreams, dreams, dreams, my simple Colonel," said Bletson, though, hispale face and shaking limbs belied the assumed courage with which hespoke. "Old Chaucer, sir, hath told us the real moral on't--He was anold frequenter of the forest of Woodstock, here"--

  "Chaser?" said Desborough; "some huntsman, belike, by his name. Does hewalk, like Hearne at Windsor?"

  "Chaucer," said Bletson, "my dear Desborough, is one of those wonderfulfellows, as Colonel Everard knows, who live many a hundred years afterthey are buried, and whose words haunt our ears after their bones arelong mouldered in the dust."

  "Ay, ay! well," answered Desborough, to whom this description of the oldpoet was unintelligible--"I for one desire his room rather than hiscompany; one of your conjurors, I warrant him. But what says he to thematter?"

  "Only a slight spell, which I will take the freedom to repeat to ColonelEverard," said Bletson; "but which would be as bad as Greek to thee,Desborough. Old Geoffrey lays the whole blame of our nocturnaldisturbance on superfluity of humours,

  'Which causen folk to dred in their dreams Of arrowes, and of fire with red gleams, Right as the humour of melancholy Causeth many a man in sleep to cry For fear of great bulls and bears black, And others that black devils will them take.'"

  While he was thus declaiming, Everard observed a book sticking out frombeneath the pillow of the bed lately occupied by the honourable member.

  "Is that Chaucer?" he said, making to the volume; "I would like to lookat the passage"--

  "Chaucer?" said Bletson, hastening to interfere; "no--that is Lucretius,my darling Lucretius. I cannot let you see it; I have some privatemarks."

  But by this time Everard had the book in his hand. "Lucretius?" he said;"no, Master Bletson, this is not Lucretius, but a fitter comforter indread or in danger--Why should you be ashamed of it? Only, Bletson,instead of resting your head, if you can but anchor your heart upon thisvolume, it may serve you in better stead than Lucretius or Chaucereither."

  "Why, what book is it?" said Bletson, his pale cheek colouring with theshame of detection. "Oh! the Bible!" throwing it down contemptuously;"some book of my fellow Gibeon's; these Jews have been alwayssuperstitious--ever since Juvenal's time, thou knowest--

  "'Qualiacunque voles Judaei somnia vendunt.'

  "He left me the old book for a spell, I warrant you; for 'tis awell-meaning fo
ol."

  "He would scarce have left the New Testament as well as the Old," saidEverard. "Come, my dear Bletson, do not be ashamed of the wisest thingyou ever did in your life, supposing you took your Bible in an hour ofapprehension, with a view to profit by the contents."

  Bletson's vanity was so much galled that it overcame his constitutionalcowardice. His little thin fingers quivered for eagerness, his neck andcheeks were as red as scarlet, and his articulation was as thick andvehement as--in short, as if he had been no philosopher.

  "Master Everard," he said, "you are a man of the sword, sir; and, sir,you seem to suppose yourself entitled to say whatever comes into yourmind with respect to civilians, sir. But I would have you remember, sir,that there are bounds beyond which human patience may be urged, sir--andjests which no man of honour will endure, sir--and therefore I expect anapology for your present language, Colonel Everard, and this unmannerlyjesting, sir--or you may chance to hear from me in a way that will notplease you."

  Everard could not help smiling at this explosion of valour, engenderedby irritated self-love.

  "Look you, Master Bletson," he said, "I have been a soldier, that istrue, but I was never a bloody-minded one; and, as a Christian, I amunwilling to enlarge the kingdom of darkness by sending a new vassalthither before his time. If Heaven gives you time to repent, I see noreason why my hand should deprive you of it, which, were we to have arencontre, would be your fate in the thrust of a sword, or the pullingof a trigger--I therefore prefer to apologise; and I call Desborough, ifhe has recovered his wits, to bear evidence that I _do_ apologise forhaving suspected you, who are completely the slave of your own vanity,of any tendency, however slight, towards grace or good sense. And Ifarther apologise for the time that I have wasted in endeavouring towash an Ethiopian white, or in recommending rational enquiry to aself-willed atheist."

  Bletson, overjoyed at the turn the matter had taken--for the defiancewas scarce out of his mouth ere he began to tremble for theconsequences--answered with great eagerness and servility ofmanner,--"Nay, dearest Colonel, say no more of it--an apology is allthat is necessary among men of honour--it neither leaves dishonour withhim who asks it, nor infers degradation on him who makes it."

  "Not such an apology as I have made, I trust," said the Colonel.

  "No, no--not in the least," answered Bletson,--"one apology serves mejust as well as another, and Desborough will bear witness you have madeone, and that is all there can be said on the subject."

  "Master Desborough and you," rejoined the Colonel, "will take care howthe matter is reported, I dare say; and I only recommend to both, that,if mentioned at all, it may be told correctly."

  "Nay, nay, we will not mention it at all," said Bletson, "we will forgetit from this moment. Only, never suppose me capable of superstitiousweakness. Had I been afraid of an apparent and real danger--why suchfear is natural to man--and I will not deny that the mood of mind mayhave happened to me as well as to others. But to be thought capable ofresorting to spells, and sleeping with books under my pillow to securemyself against ghosts,--on my word, it was enough to provoke one toquarrel, for the moment, with his very best friend.--And now, Colonel,what is to be done, and how is our duty to be executed at this accursedplace? If I should get such a wetting as Desborough's, why I should dieof catarrh, though you see it hurts him no more than a bucket of waterthrown over a post-horse. You are, I presume, a brother in ourcommission,--how are you of opinion we should proceed?"

  "Why, in good time here comes Harrison," said Everard, "and I will laymy commission from the Lord-General before you all; which, as you see,Colonel Desborough, commands you to desist from acting on your presentauthority, and intimates his pleasure accordingly, that you withdrawfrom this place."

  Desborough took the paper and examined the signature.--"It is Noll'ssignature sure enough," said he, dropping his under jaw; "only, everytime of late he has made the _Oliver_ as large as a giant, while the_Cromwell_ creeps after like a dwarf, as if the surname were like todisappear one of these days altogether. But is his Excellency, ourkinsman, Noll Cromwell (since he has the surname yet) so unreasonable asto think his relations and friends are to be set upon their heads tillthey have the crick in their neck--drenched as if they had been plungedin a horse-pond--frightened, day and night, by all sort of devils,witches, and fairies, and get not a penny of smart-money? Adzooks,(forgive me for swearing,) if that's the case I had better home to myfarm, and mind team and herd, than dangle after such a thankless person,though I _have_ wived his sister. She was poor enough when I took her,for as high as Noll holds his head now."

  "It is not my purpose," said Bletson, "to stir debate in this honourablemeeting; and no one will doubt the veneration and attachment which Ibear to our noble General, whom the current of events, and his ownmatchless qualities of courage and constancy, have raised so high inthese deplorable days.--If I were to term him a direct and immediateemanation of the ANIMUS MUNDI itself--something which Nature hadproduced in her proudest hour, while exerting herself, as is her law,for the preservation of the creatures to whom she has given existence--should scarce exhaust the ideas which I entertain of him. Alwaysprotesting that I am by no means to be held as admitting, but merely asgranting for the sake of argument, the possible existence of thatspecies of emanation, or exhalation, from the ANIMUS MUNDI, of which Ihave made mention. I appeal to you, Colonel Desborough, who are hisExcellency's relation--to you, Colonel Everard, who hold the dearertitle of his friend, whether I have overrated my zeal in his behalf?"

  Everard bowed at this pause, but Desborough gave a more completeauthentication. "Nay, I can bear witness to that. I have seen when youwere willing to tie his points or brush his cloak, or the like--and tobe treated thus ungratefully--and gudgeoned of the opportunities whichhad been given you"--

  "It is not for that," said Bletson, waving his hand gracefully. "You dome wrong, Master Desborough--you do indeed, kind sir--although I knowyou meant it not--No, sir--no partial consideration of private interestprevailed on me to undertake this charge. It was conferred on me by theParliament of England, in whose name this war commenced, and by theCouncil of State, who are the conservators of England's liberty. And thechance and serene hope of serving the country, the confidence thatI--and you, Master Desborough--and you, worthy General Harrison--superior, as I am, to all selfish considerations--to which I am sure youalso, good Colonel Everard, would be superior, had you been named inthis Commission, as I would to Heaven you had--I say, the hope ofserving the country, with the aid of such respectable associates, oneand all of them--as well as you, Colonel Everard, supposing you to havebeen of the number, induced me to accept of this opportunity, whereby Imight, gratuitously, with your assistance, render so much advantage toour dear mother the Commonwealth of England.--Such was my hope--mytrust--my confidence. And now comes my Lord-General's warrant todissolve the authority by which we are entitled to act. Gentlemen, I askthis honourable meeting, (with all respect to his Excellency,) whetherhis Commission be paramount to that from which he himself directly holdshis commission? No one will say so. I ask whether he has climbed intothe seat from which the late Man descended, or hath a great seal, ormeans to proceed by prerogative in such a case? I cannot see reason tobelieve it, and therefore I must resist such doctrine. I am in yourjudgment, my brave and honourable colleagues; but, touching my own pooropinion, I feel myself under the unhappy necessity of proceeding in ourcommission, as if the interruption had not taken place; with thisaddition, that the Board of Sequestrators should sit, by day, at thissame Lodge of Woodstock, but that, to reconcile the minds of weakbrethren, who may be afflicted by superstitious rumours, as well as toavoid any practice on our persons by the malignants, who, I amconvinced, are busy in this neighbourhood, we should remove our sittingsafter sunset to the George Inn, in the neighbouring borough."

  "Good Master Bletson," replied Colonel Everard, "it is not for me toreply to you; but you may know in what characters this army of Englandand their General write their authority.
I fear me the annotation onthis precept of the General, will be expressed by the march of a troopof horse from Oxford to see it executed. I believe there are orders outfor that effect; and you know by late experience, that the soldier willobey his General equally against King and Parliament."

  "That obedience is conditional," said Harrison, starting fiercely up."Know'st thou not, Markham Everard, that I have followed the manCromwell as close as the bull-dog follows his master?--and so I willyet;--but I am no spaniel, either to be beaten, or to have the food Ihave earned snatched from me, as if I were a vile cur, whose wages are awhipping, and free leave to wear my own skin. I looked, amongst thethree of us, that we might honestly, and piously, and with advantage tothe Commonwealth, have gained out of this commission three, or it may befive thousand pounds. And does Cromwell imagine I will part with it fora rough word? No man goeth a warfare on his own charges. He that servesthe altar must live by the altar--and the saints must have means toprovide them with good harness and fresh horses against the unsealingand the pouring forth. Does Cromwell think I am so much of a tame tigeras to permit him to rend from me at pleasure the miserable dole he haththrown me? Of a surety I will resist; and the men who are here, beingchiefly of my own regiment--men who wait, and who expect, with lampsburning and loins girded, and each one his weapon bound upon his thigh,will aid me to make this house good against every assault--ay, evenagainst Cromwell himself, until the latter coming--Selah! Selah!"--

  "And I," said Desborough, "will levy troops and protect yourout-quarters, not choosing at present to close myself up in garrison"--

  "And I," said Bletson, "will do my part, and hie me to town and lay thematter before Parliament, arising in my place for that effect."

  Everard was little moved by all these threats. The only formidable one,indeed, was that of Harrison, whose enthusiasm, joined with his courage,and obstinacy, and character among the fanatics of his own principles,made him a dangerous enemy. Before trying any arguments with therefractory Major-General, Everard endeavoured to moderate his feelings,and threw something in about the late disturbances.

  "Talk not to me of supernatural disturbances, young man--talk not to meof enemies in the body or out of the body. Am I not the champion chosenand commissioned to encounter and to conquer the great Dragon, and theBeast which cometh out of the sea? Am I not to command the left wing,and two regiments of the centre, when the Saints shall encounter withthe countless legions of Grog and Magog? I tell thee that my name iswritten on the sea of glass mingled with fire, and that I will keep thisplace of Woodstock against all mortal men, and against all devils,whether in field or chamber, in the forest or in the meadow, even tillthe Saints reign in the fulness of their glory."

  Everard saw it was then time to produce two or three lines underCromwell's hand, which he had received from the General, subsequently tothe communication through Wildrake. The information they contained wascalculated to allay the disappointment of the Commissioners. Thisdocument assigned as the reason of superseding the Woodstock Commission,that he should probably propose to the Parliament to require theassistance of General Harrison, Colonel Desborough, and Master Bletson,the honourable member for Littlefaith, in a much greater matter, namely,the disposing of the royal property, and disparking of the King's forestat Windsor. So soon as this idea was started, all parties pricked uptheir ears; and their drooping, and gloomy, and vindictive looks beganto give place to courteous smiles, and to a cheerfulness, which laughedin their eyes, and turned their mustaches upwards.

  Colonel Desborough acquitted his right honourable and excellent cousinand kinsman of all species of unkindness; Master Bletson discovered,that the interest of the state was trebly concerned in the goodadministration of Windsor more than in that of Woodstock. As forHarrison, he exclaimed, without disguise or hesitation, that thegleaning of the grapes of Windsor was better than the vintage ofWoodstock. Thus speaking, the glance of his dark eye expressed as muchtriumph in the proposed earthly advantage, as if it had not been,according to his vain persuasion, to be shortly exchanged for his sharein the general reign of the Millennium. His delight, in short, resembledthe joy of an eagle, who preys upon a lamb in the evening with not theless relish, because she descries in the distant landscape an hundredthousand men about to join battle with daybreak, and to give her anendless feast on the hearts and lifeblood of the valiant. Yet though allagreed that they would be obedient to the General's pleasure in thismatter, Bletson proposed, as a precautionary measure, in which allagreed, that they should take up their abode for some time in the townof Woodstock, to wait for their new commissions respecting Windsor; andthis upon the prudential consideration, that it was best not to slip oneknot until another was first tied.

  Each Commissioner, therefore, wrote to Oliver individually, stating, inhis own way, the depth and height, length and breadth, of his attachmentto him. Each expressed himself resolved to obey the General'sinjunctions to the uttermost; but with the same scrupulous devotion tothe Parliament, each found himself at a loss how to lay down thecommission intrusted to them by that body, and therefore felt bound inconscience to take up his residence at the borough of Woodstock, that hemight not seem to abandon the charge committed to them, until theyshould be called to administrate the weightier matter of Windsor, towhich they expressed their willingness instantly to devote themselves,according to his Excellency's pleasure.

  This was the general style of their letters, varied by thecharacteristic flourishes of the writers. Desborough, for example, saidsomething about the religious duty of providing for one's own household,only he blundered the text. Bletson wrote long and big words about thepolitical obligation incumbent on every member of the community, onevery person, to sacrifice his time and talents to the service of hiscountry; while Harrison talked of the littleness of present affairs, incomparison of the approaching tremendous change of all things beneaththe sun. But although the garnishing of the various epistles wasdifferent, the result came to the same, that they were determined atleast to keep sight of Woodstock, until they were well assured of somebetter and more profitable commission.

  Everard also wrote a letter in the most grateful terms to Cromwell,which would probably have been less warm had he known more distinctlythan his follower chose to tell him, the expectation under which thewily General had granted his request. He acquainted his Excellency withhis purpose of continuing at Woodstock, partly to assure himself of themotions of the three Commissioners, and to watch whether they did notagain enter upon the execution of the trust, which they had for thepresent renounced,--and partly to see that some extraordinarycircumstances, which had taken place in the Lodge, and which woulddoubtless transpire, were not followed by any explosion to thedisturbance of the public peace. He knew (as he expressed himself) thathis Excellency was so much the friend of order, that he would ratherdisturbances or insurrections were prevented than punished; and heconjured the General to repose confidence in his exertions for thepublic service by every mode within his power; not aware, it will beobserved, in what peculiar sense his general pledge might beinterpreted.

  These letters being made up into a packet, were forwarded to Windsor bya trooper, detached on that errand.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH.

  We do that in our zeal, Our calmer moments are afraid to answer. ANONYMOUS.

  While the Commissioners were preparing to remove themselves from theLodge to the inn at the borough of Woodstock, with all that state andbustle which attend the movements of great persons, and especially ofsuch to whom greatness is not entirely familiar, Everard held somecolloquy with the Presbyterian clergyman, Master Holdenough, who hadissued from the apartment which he had occupied, as it were in defianceof the spirits by whom the mansion was supposed to be disturbed, andwhose pale cheek, and pensive brow, gave token that he had not passedthe night more comfortably than the other inmates of the Lodge ofWoodstock. Colonel Everard having offered to procure the reverendgentleman some refresh
ment, received this reply:--"This day shall I nottaste food, saving that which we are assured of as sufficient for oursustenance, where it is promised that our bread shall be given us, andour water shall be sure. Not that I fast, in the papistical opinion thatit adds to those merits, which are but an accumulation of filthy rags;but because I hold it needful that no grosser sustenance should this daycloud my understanding, or render less pure and vivid the thanks I oweto Heaven for a most wonderful preservation."

  "Master Holdenough," said Everard, "you are, I know, both a good man anda bold one, and I saw you last night courageously go upon your sacredduty, when soldiers, and tried ones, seemed considerably alarmed."

  "Too courageous--too venturous" was Master Holdenough's reply, theboldness of whose aspect seemed completely to have died away. "We arefrail creatures, Master Everard, and frailest when we think ourselvesstrongest. Oh, Colonel Everard," he added, after a pause, and as if theconfidence was partly involuntary, "I have seen that which I shall neversurvive!"

  "You surprise me, reverend sir," said Everard;--"may I request you willspeak more plainly? I have heard some stories of this wild night, nay,have witnessed strange things myself; but, methinks, I would be muchinterested in knowing the nature of your disturbance."

  "Sir," said the clergyman, "you are a discreet gentleman; and though Iwould not willingly that these heretics, schismatics, Brownists,Muggletonians, Anabaptists, and so forth, had such an opportunity oftriumph, as my defeat in this matter would have afforded them, yet withyou, who have been ever a faithful follower of our Church, and arepledged to the good cause by the great National League and Covenant,surely I would be more open. Sit we down, therefore, and let me call fora glass of pure water, for as yet I feel some bodily faltering; though,I thank Heaven, I am in mind resolute and composed as a merely mortalman may after such a vision.--They say, worthy Colonel, that looking onsuch things foretells, or causes, speedy death--I know not if it betrue; but if so, I only depart like the tired sentinel when his officerreleases him from his post; and glad shall I be to close these weariedeyes against the sight, and shut these harassed ears against thecroaking, as of frogs, of Antinomians, and Pelagians, and Socinians, andArminians, and Arians, and Nullifidians, which have come up into ourEngland, like those filthy reptiles into the house of Pharaoh."

  Here one of the servants who had been summoned, entered with a cup ofwater, gazing at the same time in the face of the clergyman, as if hisstupid grey eyes were endeavouring to read what tragic tale was writtenon his brow; and shaking his empty skull as he left the room, with theair of one who was proud of having discovered that all was not exactlyright, though he could not so well guess what was wrong.

  Colonel Everard invited the good man to take some refreshment moregenial than the pure element, but he declined: "I am in some sort achampion" he said; "and though I have been foiled in the latecontroversy with the Enemy, still I have my trumpet to give the alarm,and my sharp sword to smite withal; therefore, like the Nazarites ofold, I will eat nothing that cometh of the vine, neither drink wine norstrong drink, until these my days of combat shall have passed away."

  Kindly and respectfully the Colonel anew pressed Master Holdenough tocommunicate the events that had befallen him on the preceding night; andthe good clergyman proceeded as follows, with that little characteristictouch of vanity in his narrative, which naturally arose out of the parthe had played in the world, and the influence which he had exercisedover the minds of others. "I was a young man at the University ofCambridge," he said, "when I was particularly bound in friendship to afellow-student, perhaps because we were esteemed (though it is vain tomention it) the most hopeful scholars at our college; and so equallyadvanced, that it was difficult, perhaps, to say which was the greaterproficient in his studies. Only our tutor, Master Purefoy, used to say,that if my comrade had the advantage of me in gifts, I had the better ofhim in grace; for he was attached to the profane learning of theclassics, always unprofitable, often impious and impure; and I had lightenough to turn my studies into the sacred tongues. Also we differed inour opinions touching the Church of England, for he held Arminianopinions, with Laud, and those who would connect our ecclesiasticalestablishment with the civil, and make the Church dependent on thebreath of an earthly man. In fine, he favoured Prelacy both inessentials and ceremonial; and although, we parted with tears andembraces, it was to follow very different courses. He obtained a living,and became a great controversial writer in behalf of the Bishops and ofthe Court. I also, as is well known to you, to the best of my poorabilities, sharpened my pen in the cause of the poor oppressed people,whose tender consciences rejected the rites and ceremonies morebefitting a papistical than a reformed Church, and which, according tothe blinded policy of the Court, were enforced by pains and penalties.Then came the Civil War, and I--called thereunto by my conscience, andnothing fearing or suspecting what miserable consequences have chancedthrough the rise of these Independents--consented to lend my countenanceand labour to the great work, by becoming chaplain to Colonel Harrison'sregiment. Not that I mingled with carnal weapons in the field--whichHeaven forbid that a minister of the altar should--but I preached,exhorted, and, in time of need, was a surgeon, as well to the wounds ofthe body as of the soul. Now, it fell, towards the end of the war, thata party of malignants had seized on a strong house in the shire ofShrewsbury, situated on a small island advanced into a lake, andaccessible only by a small and narrow causeway. From thence they madeexcursions, and vexed the country; and high time it was to suppressthem, so that a part of our regiment went to reduce them; and I wasrequested to go, for they were few in number to take in so strong aplace, and the Colonel judged that my exhortations would make them dovaliantly. And so, contrary to my wont, I went forth with them, even tothe field, where there was valiant fighting on both sides. Nevertheless,the malignants shooting their wall-pieces at us, had so much theadvantage, that, after bursting their gates with a salvo of our cannon,Colonel Harrison ordered his men to advance on the causeway, and try tocarry the place by storm. Nonetheless, although our men did valiantly,advancing in good order, yet being galled on every side by the fire,they at length fell into disorder, and were retreating with much loss,Harrison himself valiantly bringing up the rear, and defending them ashe could against the enemy, who sallied forth in pursuit of them, tosmite them hip and thigh. Now, Colonel Everard, I am a man of a quickand vehement temper by nature, though better teaching than the old lawhath made me mild and patient as you now see me. I could not bear to seeour Israelites flying before the Philistines, so I rushed upon thecauseway, with the Bible in one hand, and a halberd, which I had caughtup, in the other, and turned back the foremost fugitives, by threateningto strike them down, pointing out to them at the same time a priest inhis cassock, as they call it, who was among the malignants, and askingthem whether they would not do as much for a true servant of Heaven, asthe uncircumcised would for a priest of Baal. My words and strokesprevailed; they turned at once, and shouting out, Down with Baal and hisworshippers! they charged the malignants so unexpectedly home, that theynot only drove them back into their house of garrison, but entered itwith them, as the phrase is, pell-mell. I also was there, partly hurriedon by the crowd, partly to prevail on our enraged soldiers to givequarter; for it grieved my heart to see Christians and Englishmen hasheddown with swords and gunstocks, like curs in the street, when there isan alarm of mad-dogs. In this way, the soldiers fighting andslaughtering, and I calling to them to stay their hand, we gained thevery roof of the building, which was in part leaded, and to which, as alast tower of refuge, those of the cavaliers, who yet escaped, hadretired. I was myself, I may say, forced up the narrow winding staircaseby our soldiers, who rushed on like dogs of chase upon their prey; andwhen extricated from the passage, I found myself in the midst of ahorrid scene. The scattered defenders were, some resisting with the furyof despair; some on their knees, imploring for compassion in words andtones to break a man's heart when he thinks on them; some were callingon God for mercy; and it
was time, for man had none. They were strickendown, thrust through, flung from the battlements into the lake; and thewild cries of the victors, mingled with the groans, shrieks, andclamours, of the vanquished, made a sound so horrible, that only deathcan erase it from my memory. And the men who butchered theirfellow-creatures thus, were neither pagans from distant savage lands,nor ruffians, the refuse and offscourings of our own people. They werein calm blood reasonable, nay, religious men, maintaining a fair reputeboth heavenward and earthward. Oh, Master Everard, your trade of warshould be feared and avoided, since it converts such men into wolvestowards their fellow creatures."

  "It is a stern necessity," said Everard, looking down, "and as suchalone is justifiable. But proceed, reverend sir; I see not how thisstorm, an incident but e'en too frequent on both sides during the latewar, connects with the affair of last night."

  "You shall hear anon," said Mr. Holdenough; then paused as one who makesan effort to compose himself before continuing a relation, the tenor ofwhich agitated him with much violence. "In this infernal tumult," heresumed,--"for surely nothing on earth could so much resemble hell, aswhen men go thus loose in mortal malice on their fellow-creatures,--Isaw the same priest whom I had distinguished on the causeway, with oneor two other malignants, pressed into a corner by the assailants, anddefending themselves to the last, as those who had no hope.--I sawhim--I knew him--Oh, Colonel Everard!"

  He grasped Everard's hand with his own left hand, and pressed the palmof his right to his face and forehead, sobbing aloud.

  "It was your college companion?" said Everard, anticipating thecatastrophe.

  "Mine ancient--mine only friend--with whom I had spent the happy days ofyouth!--I rushed forward--I struggled--I entreated.--But my eagernessleft me neither voice nor language--all was drowned in the wretched crywhich I had myself raised--Down with the priest of Baal! Slay Mattan--slay him were he between the altars!--Forced over the battlements, butstruggling for life, I could see him cling to one of those projectionswhich were formed to carry the water from the leads, but they hacked athis arms and hands. I heard the heavy fall into the bottomless abyssbelow. Excuse me--I cannot go on."

  "He may have escaped."

  "Oh! no, no, no--the tower was four stories in height. Even those whothrew themselves into the lake from the lower windows, to escape byswimming, had no safety; for mounted troopers on the shore caught thesame bloodthirsty humour which had seized the storming party, gallopedaround the margin of the lake, and shot those who were struggling forlife in the water, or cut them down as they strove to get to land. Theywere all cut off and destroyed.--Oh! may the blood shed on that dayremain silent!--Oh! that the earth may receive it in her recesses!--Oh!that it may be mingled for ever with the dark waters of that lake, sothat it may never cry for vengeance against those whose anger wasfierce, and who slaughtered in their wrath!--And, oh! may the erring manbe forgiven who came into their assembly, and lent his voice toencourage their, cruelty!--Oh! Albany, my brother, my brother, I havelamented for thee even as David for Jonathan!"

  [Footnote: Michael Hudson, the _plain-dealing_ chaplain of King CharlesI., resembled, in his loyalty to that unfortunate monarch, thefictitious character of Dr. Rochecliffe; and the circumstances of hisdeath were copied in the narrative of the Presbyterian's account of theslaughter of his school-fellow;--he was chosen by Charles I., along withJohn Ashburnham, as his guide and attendant, when he adopted theill-advised resolution of surrendering his person to the Scots army.

  He was taken prisoner by the Parliament, remained long in their custody,and was treated with great severity. He made his escape for about a yearin 1647; was retaken, and again escaped in 1648. and heading aninsurrection of cavaliers, seized on a strong moated house inLincolnshire, called Woodford House. He gained the place withoutresistance; and there are among Peck's Desiderata Curiosa severalaccounts of his death, among which we shall transcribe that of BishopKenneth, as the most correct, and concise:--"I have been on the spot,"saith his Lordship, "and made all possible enquiries, and find that therelation given by Mr. Wood may be a little rectified and supplied.

  "Mr. Hudson and his party did not fly to Woodford, but had quietly takenpossession of it, and held it for a garrison, with a good party ofhorse, who made a stout defence, and frequent sallies, against a partyof the Parliament at Stamford, till the colonel commanding them sent astronger detachment, under a captain, his own kinsman, who was shot fromthe house, upon which the colonel himself came up to renew the attack,and to demand surrender, and brought them to capitulate upon terms ofsafe quarter. But the colonel, in base revenge, commanded that theyshould not spare that rogue Hudson. Upon which, Hudson fought his way upto the leads; and when he saw they were pushing in upon him, threwhimself over the battlements (another account says, he caught hold of aspout or outstone,) and hung by the hands, as intending to fall into themoat beneath, till they cut off his wrists and let him drop, and thenran down to hunt him in the water, where they found him paddling withhis stumps, and barbarously knocked him on the head."--_Peck'sDesiderata Curiosa_, Book ix.

  Other accounts mention he was refused the poor charity of coming to dieon land, by one Egborough, servant to Mr. Spinks, the intruder into theparsonage. A man called Walker, a chandler or grocer, cut out the tongueof the unfortunate divine, and showed it as a trophy through thecountry. But it was remarked, with vindictive satisfaction, thatEgborough was killed by the bursting of his own gun; and that Walker,obliged to abandon his trade through poverty, became a scornedmendicant.

  For some time a grave was not vouchsafed to the remains of this braveand loyal divine, till one of the other party said, "Since he is dead,let him be buried."]

  The good man sobbed aloud, and so much did Colonel Everard sympathizewith his emotions, that he forebore to press him upon the subject of hisown curiosity until the full tide of remorseful passion had for the timeabated. It was, however, fierce and agitating, the more so, perhaps,that indulgence in strong mental feeling of any kind was foreign to thesevere and ascetic character of the man, and was therefore the moreoverpowering when it had at once surmounted all restraints. Large tearsflowed down the trembling features of his thin, and usually stern, or atleast austere countenance; he eagerly returned the compression ofEverard's hand, as if thankful for the sympathy which the caressimplied.

  Presently after, Master Holdenough wiped his eyes, withdrew his handgently from that of Everard, shaking it kindly as they parted, andproceeded with more composure: "Forgive me this burst of passionatefeeling, worthy Colonel. I am conscious it little becomes a man of mycloth, who should be the bearer of consolation to others, to give way inmine own person to an extremity of grief, weak at least, if indeed it isnot sinful; for what are we, that we should weep and murmur touchingthat which is permitted? But Albany was to me as a brother. The happiestdays of my life, ere my call to mingle myself in the strife of the landhad awakened me to my duties, were spent in his company. I--but I willmake the rest of my story short."--Here he drew his chair close to thatof Everard, and spoke in a solemn and mysterious tone of voice, almostlowered to a whisper--"I saw him last night."

  "Saw _him_--saw whom?" said Everard. "Can you mean the person whom"--

  "Whom I saw so ruthlessly slaughtered," said the clergyman--"My ancientcollege friend--Joseph Albany."

  "Master Holdenough, your cloth and your character alike must preventyour jesting on such a subject as this."

  "Jesting!" answered Holdenough; "I would as soon jest on mydeath-bed--as soon jest upon the Bible."

  "But you must have been deceived," answered Everard, hastily; "thistragical story necessarily often returns to your mind, and in momentswhen the imagination overcomes the evidence of the outward senses, yourfancy must have presented to you an unreal appearance. Nothing morelikely, when the mind is on the stretch after something supernatural,than that the imagination should supply the place with a chimera, whilethe over-excited feelings render it difficult to dispel the delusion."

  "Colonel Everard
," replied Holdenough, with austerity, "in discharge ofmy duty I must not fear the face of man; and, therefore, I tell youplainly, as I have done before with more observance, that when you bringyour carnal learning and judgment, as it is but too much your nature todo, to investigate the hidden things of another world, you might as wellmeasure with the palm of your hand the waters of the Isis. Indeed, goodsir, you err in this, and give men too much pretence to confound yourhonourable name with witch-advocates, free-thinkers, and atheists, evenwith such as this man Bletson, who, if the discipline of the church hadits hand strengthened, as it was in the beginning of the great conflict,would have been long ere now cast out of the pale, and delivered over tothe punishment of the flesh, that his spirit might, if possible, be yetsaved."

  "You mistake, Master Holdenough," said Colonel Everard; "I do not denythe existence of such preternatural visitations, because I cannot, anddare not, raise the voice of my own opinion against the testimony ofages, supported by such learned men as yourself. Nevertheless, though Igrant the possibility of such things, I have scarce yet heard of aninstance in my days so well fortified by evidence, that I could at onceand distinctly say, This must have happened by supernatural agency, andnot otherwise."

  "Hear, then, what I have to tell," said the divine, "on the faith of aman, a Christian, and, what is more, a servant of our Holy Church; and,therefore, though unworthy, an elder and a teacher among Christians. Ihad taken my post yester evening in the half-furnished apartment,wherein hangs a huge mirror, which might have served Goliath of Gath tohave admired himself in, when clothed from head to foot in his brazenarmour. I the rather chose this place, because they informed me it wasthe nearest habitable room to the gallery in which they say you had beenyourself assailed that evening by the Evil One.--Was it so, I pray you?"

  "By some one with no good intentions I was assailed in that apartment.So far," said Colonel Everard, "you were correctly informed."

  "Well, I chose my post as well as I might, even as a resolved generalapproaches his camp, and casts up his mound as nearly as he can to thebesieged city. And, of a truth, Colonel Everard, if I felt somesensation of bodily fear,--for even Elias, and the prophets, whocommanded the elements, had a portion in our frail nature, much moresuch a poor sinful being as myself,--yet was my hope and my couragehigh; and I thought of the texts which I might use, not in the wickedsense of periapts, or spells, as the blinded papists employ them,together with the sign of the cross and other fruitless forms, but asnourishing and supporting that true trust and confidence in the blessedpromises, being the true shield of faith wherewith the fiery darts ofSatan may be withstood and quenched. And thus armed and prepared, I sateme down to read, at the same time to write, that I might compel my mindto attend to those subjects which became the situation in which I wasplaced, as preventing any unlicensed excursions of the fancy, andleaving no room for my imagination to brood over idle fears. So Imethodised, and wrote down what I thought meet for the time, andperadventure some hungry souls may yet profit by the food which I thenprepared."

  "It was wisely and worthily done, good and reverend sir," repliedColonel Everard. "I pray you to proceed."

  "While I was thus employed, sir, and had been upon the matter for aboutthree hours, not yielding to weariness, a strange thrilling came over mysenses, and the large and old-fashioned apartment seemed to wax larger,more gloomy, and more cavernous, while the air of the night grew morecold and chill. I know not if it was that the fire began to decay, orwhether there cometh before such things as were then about to happen, abreath and atmosphere, as it were, of terror, as Job saith in awell-known passage, 'Fear came upon me, and trembling, which made mybones to shake;' and there was a tingling noise in my ears, and adizziness in my brain, so that I felt like those who call for aid whenthere is no danger, and was even prompted to flee, when I saw no one topursue. It was then that something seemed to pass behind me, casting areflection on the great mirror before which I had placed mywriting-table, and which I saw by assistance of the large standing lightwhich was then in front of the glass. And I looked up, and I saw in theglass distinctly the appearance of a man--as sure as these words issuefrom my mouth, it was no other than the same Joseph Albany--thecompanion of my youth--he whom I had seen precipitated down thebattlements of Clidesbrough Castle into the deep lake below!"

  "What did you do?"

  "It suddenly rushed on my mind," said the divine, "that the stoicalphilosopher Athenodorus had eluded the horrors of such a vision bypatiently pursuing his studies; and it shot at the same time across mymind, that I, a Christian divine, and a Steward of the Mysteries, hadless reason to fear evil, and better matter on which to employ mythoughts, than was possessed by a Heathen, who was blinded even by hisown wisdom. So, instead of betraying any alarm, or even turning my headaround, I pursued my writing, but with a beating heart, I admit, andwith a throbbing hand."

  "If you could write at all," said the Colonel, "with such an impressionon your mind, you may take the head of the English army for dauntlessresolution."

  "Our courage is not our own, Colonel," said the divine, "and not as oursshould it be vaunted of. And again, when you speak of this strangevision as an impression on my fancy, and not a reality obvious to mysenses, let me tell you once more, your worldly wisdom is butfoolishness touching the things that are not worldly."

  "Did you not look again upon the mirror?" said the Colonel.

  "I did, when I had copied out the comfortable text, 'Thou shalt treaddown Satan under thy feet.'"

  "And what did you then see?"

  "The reflection of the same Joseph Albany," said Holdenough, "passingslowly as from behind my chair--the same in member and lineament that Ihad known him in his youth, excepting that his cheek had the marks ofthe more advanced age at which he died, and was very pale."

  "What did you then?"

  "I turned from the glass, and plainly saw the figure which had made thereflection in the mirror retreating towards the door, not fast, norslow, but with a gliding steady pace. It turned again when near thedoor, and again showed me its pale, ghastly countenance, before itdisappeared. But how it left the room, whether by the door, orotherwise, my spirits were too much hurried to remark exactly; nor haveI been able, by any effort of recollection, distinctly to remember."

  "This is a strange, and, as coming from you, a most excellentlywell-attested apparition," answered Everard. "And yet, MasterHoldenough, if the other world has been actually displayed, as youapprehend, and I will not dispute the possibility, assure yourself thereare also wicked men concerned in these machinations. I myself haveundergone some rencontres with visitants who possessed bodily strength,and wore, I am sure, earthly weapons."

  "Oh! doubtless, doubtless," replied Master Holdenough; "Beelzebub lovesto charge with horse and foot mingled, as was the fashion of the oldScottish general, Davie Leslie. He has his devils in the body as well ashis devils disembodied, and uses the one to support and back the other."

  "It may be as you say, reverend sir," answered the Colonel.--"But whatdo you advise in this case?"

  "For that I must consult with my brethren," said the divine; "and ifthere be but left in our borders five ministers of the true kirk, wewill charge Satan in full body, and you shall see whether we have notpower over him to resist till he shall flee from us. But failing thatghostly armament against these strange and unearthly enemies, truly Iwould recommend, that as a house of witchcraft and abomination, thispolluted den of ancient tyranny and prostitution should be totallyconsumed by fire, lest Satan, establishing his head-quarters so much tohis mind, should find a garrison and a fastness from which he mightsally forth to infest the whole neighbourhood. Certain it is, that Iwould recommend to no Christian soul to inhabit the mansion; and, ifdeserted, it would become a place for wizards to play their pranks, andwitches to establish their Sabbath, and those who, like Demas, go aboutafter the wealth of this world, seeking for gold and silver to practisespells and charms to the prejudice of the souls of the covetous. Trustme, therefore,
it were better that it were spoiled and broken down, notleaving one stone upon another."

  "I say nay to that, my good friend," said the Colonel; "for theLord-General hath permitted, by his license, my mother's brother, SirHenry Lee, and his family, to return into the house of his fathers,being indeed the only roof under which he hath any chance of obtainingshelter for his grey hairs."

  "And was this done by your advice, Markham Everard?" said the divineausterely.

  "Certainly it was," returned the Colonel.--"And wherefore should I notexert mine influence to obtain a place of refuge for the brother of mymother?"

  "Now, as sure as thy soul liveth," answered the presbyter, "I hadbelieved this from no tongue but thine own. Tell me, was it not thisvery Sir Henry Lee, who, by the force of his buffcoats and hisgreenjerkins, enforced the Papist Laie's order to remove the altar tothe eastern end of the church at Woodstock?--and did not he swear by hisbeard, that he would hang in the very street of Woodstock whoever shoulddeny to drink the King's health?--and is not his hand red with the bloodof the saints?--and hath there been a ruffler in the field for prelacyand high prerogative more unmitigable or fiercer?"

  "All this may have been as you say, good Master Holdenough," answeredthe Colonel; "but my uncle is now old and feeble, and hath scarce asingle follower remaining, and his daughter is a being whom to look uponwould make the sternest weep for pity; a being who"--

  "Who is dearer to Everard," said Holdenough, "than his good name, hisfaith to his friends, his duty to his religion;--this is no time tospeak with sugared lips. The paths in which you tread are dangerous. Youare striving to raise the papistical candlestick which Heaven in itsjustice removed out of its place--to bring back to this hall ofsorceries those very sinners who are bewitched with them. I will notpermit the land to be abused by their witchcrafts.--They shall not comehither."

  He spoke this with vehemence, and striking his stick against the ground;and the Colonel, very much dissatisfied, began to express himselfhaughtily in return. "You had better consider your power to accomplishyour threats, Master Holdenough," he said, "before you urge them soperemptorily."

  "And have I not the power to bind and to loose?" said the clergyman.

  "It is a power little available, save over those of your own Church,"said Everard, with a tone something contemptuous.

  "Take heed--take heed," said the divine, who, though an excellent, was,as we have elsewhere seen, an irritable man.--"Do not insult me; butthink honourably of the messenger, for the sake of Him whose commissionhe carries.--Do not, I say, defy me--I am bound to discharge my duty,were it to the displeasing of my twin brother."

  "I can see nought your office has to do in the matter," said ColonelEverard; "and I, on my side, give you warning not to attempt to meddlebeyond your commission."

  "Right--you hold me already to be as submissive as one of yourgrenadiers," replied the clergyman, his acute features trembling with asense of indignity, so as even to agitate his grey hair; "but beware,sir, I am not so powerless as you suppose. I will invoke every trueChristian in Woodstock to gird up his loins, and resist the restorationof prelacy, oppression, and malignancy within our borders. I will stirup the wrath of the righteous against the oppressor--the Ishmaelite--theEdomite--and against his race, and against those who support him andencourage him to rear up his horn. I will call aloud, and spare not, andarouse the many whose love hath waxed cold, and the multitude who carefor none of these things. There shall be a remnant to listen to me; andI will take the stick of Joseph, which was in the hand of Ephraim, andgo down to cleanse this place of witches and sorcerers, and ofenchantments, and will cry and exhort, saying--Will you plead forBaal?--will you serve him? Nay, take the prophets of Baal--let not a manescape!"

  "Master Holdenough, Master Holdenough," said Colonel Everard, with muchimpatience, "by the tale yourself told me, you have exhorted upon thattext once too often already."

  The old man struck his palm forcibly against his forehead, and fell backinto a chair as these words were uttered, as suddenly, and as muchwithout power of resistance, as if the Colonel had fired a pistolthrough his head. Instantly regretting the reproach which he hadsuffered to escape him in his impatience, Everard hastened to apologise,and to offer every conciliatory excuse, however inconsistent, whichoccurred to him on the moment. But the old man was too deeplyaffected--he rejected his hand, lent no ear to what he said, and finallystarted up, saying sternly, "You have abused my confidence, sir--abusedit vilely, to turn it into my own reproach: had I been a man of thesword, you dared not--But enjoy your triumph, sir, over an old man, andyour father's friend--strike at the wound his imprudent confidenceshowed you."

  "Nay, my worthy and excellent friend," said the Colonel--

  "Friend!" answered the old man, starting up--"We are foes, sir--foesnow, and for ever!"

  So saying, and starting from the seat into which he had rather fallenthan thrown himself, he ran out of the room with a precipitation of stepwhich he was apt to use upon occasions of irritable feeling, and whichwas certainly more eager than dignified, especially as he muttered whilehe ran, and seemed as if he were keeping up his own passion, byrecounting over and over the offence which he had received.

  "So!" said Colonel Everard, "and there was not strife enough betweenmine uncle and the people of Woodstock already, but I must needsincrease it, by chafing this irritable and quick-tempered old man, eageras I knew him to be in his ideas of church-government, and stiff in hisprejudices respecting all who dissent from him! The mob of Woodstockwill rise; for though he would not get a score of them to stand by himin any honest or intelligible purpose, yet let him cry havoc anddestruction, and I will warrant he has followers enow. And my uncle isequally wild and unpersuadable. For the value of all the estate he everhad, he would not allow a score of troopers to be quartered in the housefor defence; and if he be alone, or has but Joceline to stand by him, hewill be as sure to fire upon those who come to attack the Lodge, as ifhe had a hundred men in garrison; and then what can chance but dangerand bloodshed?"

  This progress of melancholy anticipation was interrupted by the returnof Master Holdenough, who, hurrying into the room, with the sameprecipitate pace at which he had left it, ran straight up to theColonel, and said, "Take my hand, Markham--take my hand hastily; for theold Adam is whispering at my heart, that it is a disgrace to hold itextended so long."

  "Most heartily do I receive your hand, my venerable friend," saidEverard, "and I trust in sign of renewed amity."

  "Surely, surely,"--said the divine, shaking his hand kindly; "thou hast,it is true, spoken bitterly, but thou hast spoken truth in good time;and I think--though your words were severe--with a good and kindlypurpose. Verily, and of a truth, it were sinful in me again to be hastyin provoking violence, remembering that which you have upbraided mewith"--

  "Forgive me, good Master Holdenough," said Colonel Everard, "it was ahasty word; I meant not in serious earnest to _upbraid_."

  "Peace, I pray you, peace," said the divine; "I say, the allusion tothat which you have _most justly_ upbraided me with--though the chargearoused the gall of the old man within me, the inward tempter being everon the watch to bring us to his lure--ought, instead of being resented,to have been acknowledged by me as a favour, for so are the wounds of afriend termed faithful. And surely I, who have by one unhappyexhortation to battle and strife sent the living to the dead--and I fearbrought back even the dead among the living--should now study peace andgood will, and reconciliation of difference, leaving punishment to theGreat Being whose laws are broken, and vengeance to Him who hath said, Iwill repay it."

  The old man's mortified features lighted up with a humble confidence ashe made this acknowledgment; and Colonel Everard, who knew theconstitutional infirmities, and the early prejudices of professionalconsequence and exclusive party opinion, which he must have subdued erearriving at such a tone of candour, hastened to express his admirationof his Christian charity, mingled with reproaches on himself for havingso deeply injured his fee
lings.

  "Think not of it--think not of it, excellent young man," saidHoldenough; "we have both erred--I in suffering my zeal to outrun mycharity, you perhaps in pressing hard on an old and peevish man, who hadso lately poured out his sufferings into your friendly bosom. Be it allforgotten. Let your friends, if they are not deterred by what hashappened at this manor of Woodstock, resume their habitation as soon asthey will. If they can protect themselves against the powers of the air,believe me, that if I can prevent it by aught in my power, they shallhave no annoyance from earthly neighbours; and assure yourself, goodsir, that my voice is still worth something with the worthy Mayor, andthe good Aldermen, and the better sort of housekeepers up yonder in thetown, although the lower classes are blown about with every wind ofdoctrine. And yet farther, be assured, Colonel, that should yourmother's brother, or any of his family, learn that they have taken up arash bargain in returning to this unhappy and unhallowed house, orshould they find any qualms in their own hearts and consciences whichrequire a ghostly comforter, Nehemiah Holdenough will be as much attheir command by night or day, as if they had been bred up within theholy pale of the Church in which he is an unworthy minister; and neitherthe awe of what is fearful to be seen within these walls, nor hisknowledge of their blinded and carnal state, as bred up under a prelaticdispensation, shall prevent him doing what lies in his poor abilitiesfor their protection and edification."

  "I feel all the force of your kindness, reverend sir," said ColonelEverard, "but I do not think it likely that my uncle will give youtrouble on either score. He is a man much accustomed to be his ownprotector in temporal danger, and in spiritual doubts to trust to hisown prayers and those of his Church."

  "I trust I have not been superfluous in offering mine assistance," saidthe old man, something jealous that his proffered spiritual aid had beenheld rather intrusive. "I ask pardon if that is the case, I humbly askpardon--I would not willingly be superfluous."

  The Colonel hastened to appease this new alarm of the watchful jealousyof his consequence, which, joined with a natural heat of temper which hecould not always subdue, were the good man's only faults.

  They had regained their former friendly footing, when Roger Wildrakereturned from the hut of Joceline, and whispered his master that hisembassy had been successful. The Colonel then addressed the divine, andinformed him, that as the Commissioners had already given up Woodstock,and as his uncle, Sir Henry Lee, proposed to return to the Lodge aboutnoon, he would, if his reverence pleased, attend him up to the borough.

  "Will you not tarry," said the reverend man, with something likeinquisitive apprehension in his voice, "to welcome your relatives upontheir return to this their house?"

  "No, my good friend," said Colonel Everard; "the part which I have takenin these unhappy broils, perhaps also the mode of worship in which Ihave been educated, have so prejudiced me in mine uncle's opinion, thatI must be for some time a stranger to his house and family."

  "Indeed! I rejoice to hear it with all my heart and soul," said thedivine. "Excuse my frankness--I do indeed rejoice; I had thought--nomatter what I had thought; I would not again give offence. But trulythough the maiden hath a pleasant feature, and he, as all men say, is inhuman things unexceptionable, yet--but I give you pain--in sooth, I willsay no more unless you ask my sincere and unprejudiced advice, which youshall command, but which I will not press on you superfluously. Wend weto the borough together--the pleasant solitude of the forest may disposeus to open our hearts to each other."

  They did walk up to the little town in company, and somewhat to MasterHoldenough's surprise, the Colonel, though they talked on varioussubjects, did not request of him any ghostly advice on the subject ofhis love to his fair cousin, while, greatly beyond the expectation ofthe soldier, the clergyman kept his word, and in his own phrase, was notso superfluous as to offer upon so delicate a point his unasked counsel.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH.

  Then are the harpies gone--Yet ere we perch Where such foul birds have roosted, let us cleanse The foul obscenity they've left behind them. AGAMEMNON.

  The embassy of Wildrake had been successful, chiefly through themediation of the Episcopal divine, whom we formerly found acting in thecharacter of a chaplain to the family, and whose voice had greatinfluence on many accounts with its master.

  A little before high noon, Sir Henry Lee, with his small household, wereagain in unchallenged possession of their old apartments at the Lodge ofWoodstock; and the combined exertions of Joceline Joliffe, of Phoebe,and of old Joan, were employed in putting to rights what the lateintruders had left in great disorder.

  Sir Henry Lee had, like all persons of quality of that period, a love oforder amounting to precision, and felt, like a fine lady whose dress hasbeen disordered in a crowd, insulted and humiliated by the rudeconfusion into which his household goods had been thrown, and impatienttill his mansion was purified from all marks of intrusion. In his angerhe uttered more orders than the limited number of his domestics werelikely to find time or hands to execute. "The villains have left suchsulphureous steams behind them, too," said the old knight, "as if oldDavie Leslie and the whole Scottish army had quartered among them."

  "It may be near as bad," said Joceline, "for men say, for certain, itwas the Devil came down bodily among them, and made them troop off."

  "Then," said the knight, "is the Prince of Darkness a gentleman, as oldWill Shakspeare says. He never interferes with those of his own coat,for the Lees have been here, father and son, these five hundred years,without disquiet; and no sooner came these misbegotten churls, than heplays his own part among them."

  "Well, one thing he and they have left us," said Joliffe, "which we maythank them for; and that is, such a well-filled larder and buttery ashas been seldom seen in Woodstock Lodge this many a day: carcasses ofmutton, large rounds of beef, barrels of confectioners' ware, pipes andrunlets of sack, muscadine, ale, and what not. We shall have a royaltime on't through half the winter; and Joan must get to salting andpickling presently."

  "Out, villain!" said the knight; "are we to feed on the fragments ofsuch scum of the earth as these? Cast them forth instantly! Nay,"checking himself, "that were a sin; but give them to the poor, or seethem sent to the owners. And, hark ye, I will none of their strongliquors. I would rather drink like a hermit all my life, than seem topledge such scoundrels as these in their leavings, like a miserabledrawer, who drains off the ends of the bottles after the guests havepaid their reckoning, and gone off. And, hark ye, I will taste no waterfrom the cistern out of which these slaves have been servingthemselves--fetch me down a pitcher from Rosamond's spring."

  Alice heard this injunction, and well guessing there was enough for theother members of the family to do, she quietly took a small pitcher, andflinging a cloak around her, walked out in person to procure Sir Henrythe water which he desired. Meantime, Joceline said, with somehesitation, "that a man still remained, belonging to the party of thesestrangers, who was directing about the removal of some trunks and mailswhich belonged to the Commissioners, and who could receive his honour'scommands about the provisions."

  "Let him come hither." (The dialogue was held in the hall.) "Why do youhesitate and drumble in that manner?"

  "Only, sir," said Joceline, "only perhaps your honour might not wish tosee him, being the same who, not long since"--

  He paused.

  "Sent my rapier a-hawking through the firmament, thou wouldst say? Why,when did I take spleen at a man for standing his ground against me?Roundhead as he is, man, I like him the better of that, not the worse. Ihunger and thirst to have another turn with him. I have thought on hispassado ever since, and I believe, were it to try again, I know a featwould control it. Fetch him directly."

  Trusty Tomkins was presently ushered in, bearing himself with an irongravity, which neither the terrors of the preceding night, nor thedignified demeanour of the high-born personage before whom he stood,were able for an i
nstant to overcome.

  "How now, good fellow?" said Sir Henry; "I would fain see something moreof thy fence, which baffled me the other evening; but truly, I think thelight was somewhat too faint for my old eyes. Take a foil, man--I walkhere in the hall, as Hamlet says; and 'tis the breathing-time of daywith me. Take a foil, then, in thy hand."

  "Since it is your worship's desire," said the steward, letting fall hislong cloak, and taking the foil in his hand.

  "Now," said the knight, "if your fitness speaks, mine is ready. Methinksthe very stepping on this same old pavement hath charmed away the goutwhich threatened me. Sa--sa--I tread as firm as a game-cock."

  They began the play with great spirit; and whether the old knight reallyfought more coolly with the blunt than with the sharp weapon, or whetherthe steward gave him some grains of advantage in this merely sportiveencounter, it is certain Sir Henry had the better in the assault. Hissuccess put him into excellent humour.

  "There," said he, "I found your trick--nay, you cheat me not twice thesame way. There was a very palpable hit. Why, had I had but light enoughthe other night--But it skills not speaking of it--Here we leave off. Imust not fight, as we unwise cavaliers did with you roundhead rascals,beating you so often that we taught you to beat us at last. And goodnow, tell me why you are leaving your larder so full here? Do you thinkI or my family can use broken victuals? What, have you no betteremployment for your rounds of sequestrated beef than to leave thembehind you when you shift your quarters?"

  "So please your honour," said Tomkins, "it may be that you desire notthe flesh of beeves, of rams, or of goats. Nevertheless, when you knowthat the provisions were provided and paid for out of your own rents andstock at Ditchley, sequestrated to the use of the state more than a yearsince, it may be you will have less scruple to use them for your ownbehoof."

  "Rest assured that I shall," said Sir Henry; "and glad you have helpedme to a share of mine own. Certainly I was an ass to suspect yourmasters of subsisting, save at honest men's expense."

  "And as for the rumps of beeves," continued Tomkins, with the samesolemnity, "there is a rump at Westminster, which will stand us of thearmy much hacking and hewing yet, ere it is discussed to our mind."

  Sir Henry paused, as if to consider what was the meaning of thisinnuendo; for he was not a person of very quick apprehension. But havingat length caught the meaning of it, he burst into an explosion of louderlaughter than Joceline had seen him indulge in for a long while.

  "Right, knave," he said, "I taste thy jest--It is the very moral of thepuppet-show. Faustus raised the devil, as the Parliament raised thearmy, and then, as the devil flies away with Faustus, so will the armyfly away with the Parliament, or the rump, as thou call'st it, orsitting part of the so-called Parliament. And then, look you, friend,the very devil of all hath my willing consent to fly away with the armyin its turn, from the highest general down to the lowest drum-boy. Nay,never look fierce for the matter; remember there is daylight enough nowfor a game at sharps."

  Trusty Tomkins appeared to think it best to suppress his displeasure;and observing that the wains were ready to transport the Commissioners'property to the borough, took a grave leave of Sir Henry Lee.

  Meantime the old man continued to pace his recovered hall, rubbing hishands, and evincing greater signs of glee than he had shown since thefatal 30th of January.

  "Here we are again in the old frank, Joliffe; well victualled too. Howthe knave solved my point of conscience!--the dullest of them is aspecial casuist where the question concerns profit. Look out if thereare not some of our own ragged regiment lurking about, to whom abellyful would be a God-send, Joceline. Then his fence, Joceline, thoughthe fellow foins well, very sufficient well. But thou saw'st how I dealtwith him when I had fitting light, Joceline."

  "Ay, and so your honour did," said Joceline. "You taught him to know theDuke of Norfolk, from Saunders Gardner. I'll warrant him he will notwish to come under your honour's thumb again."

  "Why, I am waxing old," said Sir Henry; "but skill will not rust throughage, though sinews must stiffen. But my age is like a lusty winter, asold Will says, frosty but kindly; and what if, old as we are, we live tosee better days yet! I promise thee, Joceline, I love this jarringbetwixt the rogues of the board and the rogues of the sword. Whenthieves quarrel, true men have a chance of coming by their own."

  Thus triumphed the old cavalier, in the treble glory of having recoveredhis dwelling,--regained, as he thought, his character as a man of fence,and finally, discovered some prospect of a change of times, in which hewas not without hopes that something might turn up for the royalinterest.

  Meanwhile, Alice, with a prouder and a lighter heart than had danced inher bosom for several days, went forth with a gaiety to which she oflate had been a stranger, to contribute her assistance to the regulationand supply of the household, by bringing the fresh water wanted fromfair Rosamond's well.

  Perhaps she remembered, that when she was but a girl, her cousin Markhamused, among others, to make her perform that duty, as presenting thecharacter of some captive Trojan princess, condemned by her situation todraw the waters from some Grecian spring, for the use of the proudvictor. At any rate, she certainly joyed to see her father reinstated inhis ancient habitation; and the joy was not the less sincere, that sheknew their return to Woodstock had been procured by means of her cousin,and that even in her father's prejudiced eyes, Everard had been in somedegree exculpated of the accusations the old knight had brought againsthim; and that, if a reconciliation had not yet taken place, thepreliminaries had been established on which such a desirable conclusionmight easily be founded. It was like the commencement of a bridge; whenthe foundation is securely laid, and the piers raised above theinfluence of the torrent, the throwing of the arches may be accomplishedin a subsequent season.

  The doubtful fate of her only brother might have clouded even thismomentary gleam of sunshine; but Alice had been bred up during the closeand frequent contest of civil war, and had acquired the habit of hopingin behalf of those dear to her, until hope was lost. In the presentcase, all reports seemed to assure her of her brother's safety.

  Besides these causes for gaiety, Alice Lee had the pleasing feeling thatshe was restored to the habitation and the haunts of her childhood, fromwhich she had not departed without much pain, the more felt, perhaps,because suppressed, in order to avoid irritating her father's sense ofhis misfortune. Finally, she enjoyed for the instant the gleam ofself-satisfaction by which we see the young and well-disposed so oftenanimated, when they can be, in common phrase, helpful to those whom theylove, and perform at the moment of need some of those little domestictasks, which age receives with so much pleasure from the dutiful handsof youth. So that, altogether, as she hasted through the remains andvestiges of a wilderness already mentioned, and from thence about abow-shot into the Park, to bring a pitcher of water from Rosamond'sspring, Alice Lee, her features enlivened and her complexion a littleraised by the exercise, had, for the moment, regained the gay andbrilliant vivacity of expression which had been the characteristic ofher beauty in her earlier and happier days.

  This fountain of old memory had been once adorned with architecturalornaments in the style of the sixteenth century, chiefly relating toancient mythology. All these were now wasted and overthrown, and existedonly as moss-covered ruins, while the living spring continued to furnishits daily treasures, unrivalled in purity, though the quantity wassmall, gushing out amid disjointed stones, and bubbling throughfragments of ancient sculpture.

  With a light step and laughing brow the young Lady of Lee wasapproaching, the fountain usually so solitary, when she paused onbeholding some one seated beside it. She proceeded, however, withconfidence, though with a step something less gay, when she observedthat the person was a female; some menial perhaps from the town, whom afanciful mistress occasionally dispatched for the water of a spring,supposed to be peculiarly pure, or some aged woman, who made a littletrade by carrying it to the better sort of families, and selling
it fora trifle. There was no cause, therefore, for apprehension.

  Yet the terrors of the times were so great, that Alice did not see astranger even of her own sex without some apprehension. Denaturalizedwomen had as usual followed the camps of both armies during the CivilWar; who, on the one side with open profligacy and profanity, on theother with the fraudful tone of fanaticism or hypocrisy, exercisednearly in like degree their talents, for murder or plunder. But it wasbroad daylight, the distance from the Lodge was but trifling, and thougha little alarmed at seeing a stranger where she expected deep solitude,the daughter of the haughty old Knight had too much of the lion abouther, to fear without some determined and decided cause.

  Alice walked, therefore, gravely on toward the fount, and composed herlooks as she took a hasty glance of the female who was seated there, andaddressed herself to her task of filling her pitcher.

  The woman, whose presence had surprised and somewhat startled Alice Lee,was a person of the lower rank, whose red cloak, russet kirtle,handkerchief trimmed with Coventry blue, and a coarse steeple hat, couldnot indicate at best any thing higher than the wife of a small farmer,or, perhaps, the helpmate of a bailiff or hind. It was well if sheproved nothing worse. Her clothes, indeed, were of good materials; but,what the female eye discerns with half a glance, they were indifferentlyadjusted and put on. This looked as if they did not belong to the personby whom they were worn, but were articles of which she had become themistress by some accident, if not by some successful robbery. Her size,too, as did not escape Alice, even in the short perusal she afforded thestranger, was unusual; her features swarthy and singularly harsh, andher manner altogether unpropitious. The young lady almost wished, as shestooped to fill her pitcher, that she had rather turned back, and sentJoceline on the errand; but repentance was too late now, and she hadonly to disguise as well as she could her unpleasant feelings.

  "The blessings of this bright day to one as bright as it is," said thestranger, with no unfriendly, though a harsh voice.

  "I thank you," said Alice in reply; and continued to fill her pitcherbusily, by assistance of an iron bowl which remained still chained toone of the stones beside the fountain.

  "Perhaps, my pretty maiden, if you would accept my help, your work wouldbe sooner done," said the stranger.

  "I thank you," said Alice; "but had I needed assistance, I could havebrought those with me who had rendered it."

  "I do not doubt of that, my pretty maiden," answered the female; "thereare too many lads in Woodstock with eyes in their heads--No doubt youcould have brought with you any one of them who looked on you, if youhad listed."

  Alice replied not a syllable, for she did not like the freedom used bythe speaker, and was desirous to break off the conversation.

  "Are you offended, my pretty mistress?" said the stranger; "that was farfrom my purpose.--I will put my question otherwise.--Are the good damesof Woodstock so careless of their pretty daughters as to let the flowerof them all wander about the wild chase without a mother, or a somebodyto prevent the fox from running away with the lamb?--that carelessness,methinks, shows small kindness."

  "Content yourself, good woman, I am not far from protection andassistance," said Alice, who liked less and less the effrontery of hernew acquaintance.

  "Alas! my pretty maiden," said the stranger, patting with her large andhard hand the head which Alice had kept bended down towards the waterwhich she was laving, "it would be difficult to hear such a pipe asyours at the town of Woodstock, scream as loud as you would."

  Alice shook the woman's hand angrily off, took up her pitcher, thoughnot above half full, and as she saw the stranger rise at the same time,said, not without fear doubtless, but with a natural feeling ofresentment and dignity, "I have no reason to make my cries heard as faras Woodstock; were there occasion for my crying for help at all, it isnearer at hand."

  She spoke not without a warrant; for, at the moment, broke through thebushes, and stood by her side, the noble hound Bevis; fixing on thestranger his eyes that glanced fire, raising every hair on his gallantmane as upright as the bristles of a wild boar when hard pressed,grinning till a case of teeth, which would have matched those of anywolf in Russia, were displayed in full array, and, without eitherbarking or springing, seeming, by his low determined growl, to await butthe signal for dashing at the female, whom he plainly considered as asuspicious person.

  But the stranger was undaunted. "My pretty maiden," she said, "you haveindeed a formidable guardian there, where cockneys or bumpkins areconcerned; but we who have been at the wars know spells for taming suchfurious dragons; and therefore let not your four-footed protector goloose on me, for he is a noble animal, and nothing but self-defencewould induce me to do him injury." So saying, she drew a pistol from herbosom, and cocked it--pointing it towards the dog, as if apprehensivethat he would spring upon her.

  "Hold, woman, hold!" said Alice Lee; "the dog will not do youharm.--Down, Bevis, couch down.--And ere you attempt to hurt him, knowhe is the favourite hound of Sir Henry Lee of Ditchley, the keeper ofWoodstock Park, who would severely revenge any injury offered to him."

  "And you, pretty one, are the old knight's house-keeper, doubtless? Ihave often heard the Lees have good taste."

  "I am his daughter, good woman."

  "His daughter!--I was blind--but yet it is true, nothing less perfectcould answer the description which all the world has given of MistressAlice Lee. I trust that my folly has given my young mistress no offence,and that she will allow me, in token of reconciliation, to fill herpitcher, and carry it as far as she will permit."

  "As you will, good mother; but I am about to return instantly to theLodge, to which, in these times, I cannot admit strangers. You canfollow me no farther than the verge of the wilderness, and I am alreadytoo long from home: I will send some one to meet and relieve you of thepitcher." So saying, she turned her back, with a feeling of terror whichshe could hardly account for, and began to walk quickly towards theLodge, thinking thus to get rid of her troublesome acquaintance.

  But she reckoned without her host; for in a moment her new companion wasby her side, not running, indeed, but walking with prodigious longunwomanly strides, which soon brought her up with the hurried and timidsteps of the frightened maiden. But her manner was more respectful thanformerly, though her voice sounded remarkably harsh and disagreeable,and her whole appearance suggested an undefined, yet irresistiblefeeling of apprehension.

  "Pardon a stranger, lovely Mistress Alice," said her persecutor, "thatwas not capable of distinguishing between a lady of your high qualityand a peasant wench, and who spoke to you with a degree of freedom,ill-befitting your rank, certainly, and condition, and which, I fear,has given you offence."

  "No offence whatever," replied Alice; "but, good woman, I am near home,and can excuse your farther company.--You are unknown to me."

  "But it follows not," said the stranger, "that _your_ fortunes may notbe known to _me_, fair Mistress Alice. Look on my swarthy brow--Englandbreeds none such--and in the lands from which I come, the sun whichblackens our complexion, pours, to make amends, rays of knowledge intoour brains, which are denied to those of your lukewarm climate. Let melook upon your pretty hand,--(attempting to possess herself of it,)--andI promise you, you shall hear what will please you."

  "I hear what does _not_ please me," said Alice, with dignity; "you mustcarry your tricks of fortune-telling and palmistry to the women of thevillage.--We of the gentry hold them to be either imposture or unlawfulknowledge."

  "Yet you would fain hear of a certain Colonel, I warrant you, whomcertain unhappy circumstances have separated from his family; you wouldgive better than silver if I could assure you that you would see him ina day or two--ay, perhaps, sooner."

  "I know nothing of what you speak, good woman; if you want alms, thereis a piece of silver--it is all I have in my purse."

  "It were pity that I should take it," said the female; "and yet give itme--for the princess in the fairy tale must ever deserve, by he
rgenerosity, the bounty of the benevolent fairy, before she is rewardedby her protection."

  "Take it--take it--give me my pitcher," said Alice, "and begone,--yondercomes one of my father's servants.--What, ho!--Joceline--Joceline!"

  The old fortune-teller hastily dropped something into the pitcher as sherestored it to Alice Lee, and, plying her long limbs, disappearedspeedily under cover of the wood.

  Bevis turned, and barked, and showed some inclination to harass theretreat of this suspicious person, yet, as if uncertain, ran towardsJoliffe, and fawned on him, as to demand his advice and encouragement.Joceline pacified the animal, and, coming up to his young lady, askedher, with surprise, what was the matter, and whether she had beenfrightened? Alice made light of her alarm, for which, indeed, she couldnot have assigned any very competent reason, for the manners of thewoman, though bold and intrusive, were not menacing. She only said shehad met a fortune-teller by Rosamond's Well, and had had some difficultyin shaking her off.

  "Ah, the gipsy thief," said Joceline, "how well she scented there wasfood in the pantry!--they have noses like ravens, these strollers. Lookyou, Mistress Alice, you shall not see a raven or a carrion-crow in allthe blue sky for a mile round you; but let a sheep drop suddenly down onthe green-sward, and before the poor creature's dead you shall see adozen of such guests croaking, as if inviting each other to thebanquet.--Just so it is with these sturdy beggars. You will see fewenough of them when there's nothing to give, but when hough's in thepot, they will have share on't."

  "You are so proud of your fresh supply of provender," said Alice, "thatyou suspect all of a design on't. I do not think this woman will venturenear your kitchen, Joceline."

  "It will be best for her health," said Joceline, "lest I give her aducking for digestion.--But give me the pitcher, Mistress Alice--meeterI bear it than you.--How now? what jingles at the bottom? have youlifted the pebbles as well as the water?"

  "I think the woman dropped something into the pitcher," said Alice.

  "Nay, we must look to that, for it is like to be a charm, and we haveenough of the devil's ware about Woodstock already--we will not sparefor the water--I can run back and fill the pitcher." He poured out thewater upon the grass, and at the bottom of the pitcher was found a goldring, in which was set a ruby, apparently of some value.

  "Nay, if this be not enchantment, I know not what is," said Joceline."Truly, Mistress Alice, I think you had better throw away this gimcrack.Such gifts from such hands are a kind of press-money which the deviluses for enlisting his regiment of witches; and if they take but so muchas a bean from him, they become his bond-slaves for life--Ay, you lookat the gew-gaw, but to-morrow you will find a lead ring, and a commonpebble in its stead."

  "Nay, Joceline, I think it will be better to find out thatdark-complexioned woman, and return to her what seems of some value. So,cause enquiry to be made, and be sure you return her ring. It seems toovaluable to be destroyed."

  "Umph! that is always the way with women," murmured Joceline. "You willnever get the best of them, but she is willing to save a bit offinery.--Well, Mistress Alice, I trust that you are too young and toopretty to be enlisted in a regiment of witches."

  "I shall not be afraid of it till you turn conjuror," said Alice; "sohasten to the well, where you are like still to find the woman, and lether know that Alice Lee desires none of her gifts, any more than she didof her society."

  So saying, the young lady pursued her way to the Lodge, while Jocelinewent down to Rosamond's Well to execute her commission. But thefortune-teller, or whoever she might be, was nowhere to be found;neither, finding that to be the case, did Joceline give himself muchtrouble in tracking her farther.

  "If this ring, which I dare say the jade stole somewhere," said theunderkeeper to himself, "be worth a few nobles, it is better in honesthands than in that of vagabonds. My master has a right to all waifs andstrays, and certainly such a ring, in possession of a gipsy, must be awaif. So I shall confiscate it without scruple, and apply the produce tothe support of Sir Henry's household, which is like to be poor enough.Thank Heaven, my military experience has taught me how to carry hooks atmy finger-ends--that is trooper's law. Yet, hang it, after all, I hadbest take it to Mark Everard and ask his advice--I hold him now to beyour learned counsellor in law where Mistress Alice's affairs areconcerned, and my learned Doctor, who shall be nameless, for such asconcern Church and State and Sir Henry Lee.--And I'll give them leave togive mine umbles to the kites and ravens if they find me conferring myconfidence where it is not safe."

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH.

  Being skilless in these parts, which, to a stranger, Unguided and unfriended, often prove Rough and inhospitable. TWELFTH NIGHT.

  There was a little attempt at preparation, now that the dinner hour wasarrived, which showed that, in the opinion of his few but faithfuldomestics, the good knight had returned in triumph to his home.

  The great tankard, exhibiting in bas-relief the figure of Michaelsubduing the Arch-enemy, was placed on the table, and Joceline andPhoebe dutifully attended; the one behind the chair of Sir Henry, theother to wait upon her young mistress, and both to make out, by formaland regular observance, the want of a more numerous train.

  "A health to King Charles!" said the old knight, handing the massivetankard to his daughter; "drink it, my love, though it be rebel alewhich they have left us. I will pledge thee; for the toast will excusethe liquor, had Noll himself brewed it."

  The young lady touched the goblet with her lip, and returned it to herfather, who took a copious draught.

  "I will not say blessing on their hearts," said he; "though I must ownthey drank good ale."

  "No wonder, sir; they come lightly by the malt, and need not spare it,"said Joceline.

  "Say'st thou?" said the knight; "thou shalt finish the tankard thyselffor that very jest's sake."

  Nor was his follower slow in doing reason to the royal pledge. He bowed,and replaced the tankard, saying, after a triumphant glance at thesculpture, "I had a gibe with that same red-coat about the Saint Michaeljust now."

  "Red-coat--ha! what red-coat?" said the hasty old man. "Do any of theseknaves still lurk about Woodstock?--Quoit him down stairs instantly,Joceline.--Know we not Galloway nags?"

  "So please you, he is in some charge here, and will speedily begone.--It is he--he who had a rencontre with your honour in the wood."

  "Ay, but I paid him off for it in the hall, as you yourself saw.--I wasnever in better fence in my life, Joceline. That same steward fellow isnot so utterly black-hearted a rogue as the most of them, Joceline. Hefences well--excellent well. I will have thee try a bout in the hallwith him to-morrow, though I think he will be too hard for thee. I knowthy strength to an inch."

  He might say this with some truth; for it was Joceline's fashion, whencalled on, as sometimes happened, to fence with his patron, just to putforth as much of his strength and skill as obliged the Knight to contendhard for the victory, which, in the long run, he always contrived toyield up to him, like a discreet serving-man.

  "And what said this roundheaded steward of our great Saint Michael'sstanding cup?"

  "Marry, he scoffed at our good saint, and said he was little better thanone of the golden calves of Bethel. But I told him he should not talkso, until one of their own roundheaded saints had given the devil ascomplete a cross-buttock as Saint Michael had given him, as 'tis carvedupon the cup there. I trow that made him silent enough. And then hewould know whether your honour and Mistress Alice, not to mention oldJoan and myself, since it is your honour's pleasure I should take my bedhere, were not afraid to sleep in a house that had been so muchdisturbed. But I told him we feared no fiends or goblins, having theprayers of the Church read every evening."

  "Joceline," said Alice, interrupting him, "wert thou mad? You know atwhat risk to ourselves and the good doctor the performance of that dutytakes place."

  "Oh, Mistress Alice," said Joceline, a lit
tle abashed, "you may be sureI spoke not a word of the doctor--No, no--I did not let him into thesecret that we had such a reverend chaplain.--I think I know the lengthof this man's foot. We have had a jollification or so together. He ishand and glove with me, for as great a fanatic as he is."

  "Trust him not too far," said the knight. "Nay, I fear thou hast beenimprudent already, and that it will be unsafe for the good man to comehere after nightfall, as is proposed. These Independents have noses likebloodhounds, and can smell out a loyalist under any disguise."

  "If your honour thinks so," said Joceline, "I'll watch for the doctorwith good will, and bring him into the Lodge by the old condemnedpostern, and so up to this apartment; and sure this man Tomkins wouldnever presume to come hither; and the doctor may have a bed in WoodstockLodge, and he never the wiser; or, if your honour does not think thatsafe, I can cut his throat for you, and I would not mind it a pin."

  "God forbid!" said the knight. "He is under our roof, and a guest,though not an invited one.--Go, Joceline; it shall be thy penance, forhaving given thy tongue too much license, to watch for the good doctor,and to take care of his safety while he continues with us. An Octobernight or two in the forest would finish the good man."

  "He's more like to finish our October than our October is to finishhim," said the keeper; and withdrew under the encouraging smile of hispatron.

  He whistled Bevis along with him to share in his watch; and havingreceived exact information where the clergyman was most likely to befound, assured his master that he would give the most pointed attentionto his safety. When the attendants had withdrawn, having previouslyremoved the remains of the meal, the old knight, leaning back in hischair, encouraged pleasanter visions than had of late passed through hisimagination, until by degrees he was surprised by actual slumber; whilehis daughter, not venturing to move but on tiptoe, took someneedle-work, and bringing it close by the old man's side, employed herfingers on this task, bending her eyes from time to time on her parent,with the affectionate zeal, if not the effective power, of a guardianangel. At length, as the light faded away, and night came on, she wasabout to order candles to be brought. But, remembering how indifferent acouch Joceline's cottage had afforded, she could not think ofinterrupting the first sound and refreshing sleep which her father hadenjoyed, in all probability, for the last two nights and days.

  She herself had no other amusement, as she sat facing one of the greatoriel windows, the same by which Wildrake had on a former occasionlooked in upon Tomkins and Joceline while at their compotations, thanwatching the clouds, which a lazy wind sometimes chased from the broaddisk of the harvest-moon, sometimes permitted to accumulate, and excludeher brightness. There is, I know not why, something peculiarly pleasingto the imagination, in contemplating the Queen of Night, when she is_wading_, as the expression is, among the vapours which she has notpower to dispel, and which on their side are unable entirely to quenchher lustre. It is the striking image of patient virtue, calmly pursuingher path through good report and bad report, having that excellence inherself which ought to command all admiration, but bedimmed in the eyesof the world, by suffering, by misfortune, by calumny.

  As some such reflections, perhaps, were passing through Alice'simagination, she became sensible, to her surprise and alarm, that someone had clambered up upon the window, and was looking into the room. Theidea of supernatural fear did not in the slightest degree agitate Alice.She was too much accustomed to the place and situation; for folk do notsee spectres in the scenes with which they have been familiar frominfancy. But danger from maurauders in a disturbed country was a moreformidable subject of apprehension, and the thought armed Alice, who wasnaturally high spirited, with such desperate courage, that she snatcheda pistol from the wall, on which some fire-arms hung, and while shescreamed to her father to awake, had the presence of mind to present itat the intruder. She did so the more readily, because she imagined sherecognised in the visage, which she partially saw, the features of thewoman whom she had met with at Rosamond's Well, and which had appearedto her peculiarly harsh and suspicious. Her father at the same timeseized his sword and came forward, while the person at the window,alarmed at these demonstrations, and endeavouring to descend, missedfooting, as had Cavaliero Wildrake before, and went down to the earthwith no small noise. Nor was the reception on the bosom of our commonmother either soft or safe; for, by a most terrific bark and growl, theyheard that Bevis had come up and seized on the party, ere he or shecould gain their feet.

  "Hold fast, but worry not," said the old knight.--"Alice, thou art thequeen of wenches! Stand fast here till I run down and secure therascal."

  "For God's sake, no, my dearest father!" Alice exclaimed; "Joceline willbe up immediately--Hark!--I hear him."

  There was indeed a bustle below, and more than one light danced to andfro in confusion, while those who bore them called to each other, yetsuppressing their voices as they spoke, as men who would only be heardby those they addressed. The individual who had fallen under the powerof Bevis was most impatient in his situation, and called with leastprecaution--"Here, Lee,--Forester--take the dog off, else I must shoothim."

  "If thou dost," said Sir Henry, from the window, "I blow thy brains outon the spot. Thieves, Joceline, thieves! come up and secure thisruffian.--Bevis, hold on!"

  "Back, Bevis; down, sir!" cried Joceline. "I am coming, I am coming, SirHenry--Saint Michael, I shall go distracted!"

  A terrible thought suddenly occurred to Alice; could Joceline havebecome unfaithful, that he was calling Bevis off the villain, instead ofencouraging the trusty dog to secure him? Her father, meantime, movedperhaps by some suspicion of the same kind, hastily stepped aside out ofthe moonlight, and pulled Alice close to him, so as to be invisible fromwithout, yet so placed as to hear what should pass. The scuffle betweenBevis and his prisoner seemed to be ended by Joceline's interference,and there was close whispering for an instant, as of people inconsultation.

  "All is quiet now," said one voice; "I will up and prepare the way foryou." And immediately a form presented itself on the outside of thewindow, pushed open the lattice, and sprung into the parlour. But almostere his step was upon the floor, certainly before he had obtained anysecure footing, the old knight, who stood ready with his rapier drawn,made a desperate pass, which bore the intruder to the ground. Joceline,who clambered up next with a dark lantern in his hand, uttered adreadful exclamation, when he saw what had happened, crying out, "Lordin heaven, he has slain his own son!"

  "No, no--I tell you no," said the fallen young man, who was indeed youngAlbert Lee, the only son of the old knight; "I am not hurt. No noise, onyour lives; get lights instantly." At the same time, he started from thefloor as quickly as he could, under the embarrassment of a cloak anddoublet skewered as it were together by the rapier of the old knight,whose pass, most fortunately, had been diverted from the body of Albertby the interruption of his cloak, the blade passing right across hisback, piercing the clothes, while the hilt coming against his side withthe whole force of the lunge, had borne him to the ground.

  Joceline all the while enjoined silence to every one, under thestrictest conjurations. "Silence, as you would long live onearth--silence, as ye would have a place in heaven; be but silent for afew minutes--all our lives depend on it."

  Meantime he procured lights with inexpressible dispatch, and they thenbeheld that Sir Henry, on hearing the fatal words, had sunk back on oneof the large chairs, without either motion, colour, or sign of life.

  "Oh, brother, how could you come in this manner?" said Alice.

  "Ask no questions--Good God! for what am I reserved!" He gazed on hisfather as he spoke, who, with clay-cold features rigidly fixed, and hisarms extended in the most absolute helplessness, looked rather the imageof death upon a monument, than a being in whom existence was onlysuspended. "Was my life spared," said Albert, raising his hands with awild gesture to heaven, "only to witness such a sight as this!"

  "We suffer what Heaven permits, young man; we endure our
lives whileHeaven continues them. Let me approach." The same clergyman who had readthe prayers at Joceline's hut now came forward. "Get water," he said,"instantly." And the helpful hand and light foot of Alice, with theready-witted tenderness which never stagnates in vain lamentations whilethere is any room for hope, provided with incredible celerity all thatthe clergyman called for.

  "It is but a swoon," he said, on feeling Sir Henry's palm; "a swoonproduced from the instant and unexpected shock. Rouse thee up, Albert; Ipromise thee it will be nothing save a syncope--A cup, my dearest Alice,and a ribbon or a bandage. I must take some blood--some aromatics, too,if they can be had, my good Alice."

  But while Alice procured the cup and bandage, stripped her father'ssleeve, and seemed by intuition even to anticipate every direction ofthe reverend doctor, her brother, hearing no word, and seeing no sign ofcomfort, stood with both hands clasped and elevated into the air, amonument of speechless despair. Every feature in his face seemed toexpress the thought, "Here lies my father's corpse, and it is I whoserashness has slain him!"

  But when a few drops of blood began to follow the lancet--at firstfalling singly, and then trickling in a freer stream--when, inconsequence of the application of cold water to the temples, andaromatics to the nostrils, the old man sighed feebly, and made an effortto move his limbs, Albert Lee changed his posture, at once to throwhimself at the feet of the clergyman, and kiss, if he would havepermitted him, his shoes and the hem of his raiment.

  "Rise, foolish youth," said the good man, with a reproving tone; "mustit be always thus with you? Kneel to Heaven, not to the feeblest of itsagents. You have been saved once again from great danger; would youdeserve Heaven's bounty, remember you have been preserved for otherpurposes than you now think on. Begone, you and Joceline--you have aduty to discharge; and be assured it will go better with your father'srecovery that he see you not for a few minutes. Down--down to thewilderness, and bring in your attendant."

  "Thanks, thanks, a thousand thanks," answered Albert Lee; and, springingthrough the lattice, he disappeared as unexpectedly as he had entered.At the same time Joceline followed him, and by the same road.

  Alice, whose fears for her father were now something abated, upon thisnew movement among the persons of the scene, could not resist appealingto her venerable assistant. "Good doctor, answer me but one question.Was my brother Albert here just now, or have I dreamed all that hashappened for these ten minutes past? Methinks, but for your presence, Icould suppose the whole had passed in my sleep; that horriblethrust--that death-like, corpse-like old man--that soldier in mutedespair; I must indeed have dreamed."

  "If you have dreamed, my sweet Alice," said the doctor, "I wish everysick-nurse had your property, since you have been attending to ourpatient better during your sleep than most of these old dormice can dowhen they are most awake. But your dream came through the gate of horn,my pretty darling, which you must remind me to explain to you atleisure. Albert has really been here, and will be here again."

  "Albert!" repeated Sir Henry, "who names my son?"

  "It is I, my kind patron," said the doctor; "permit me to bind up yourarm."

  "My wound?--with all my heart, doctor," said Sir Henry, raising himself,and gathering his recollection by degrees. "I knew of old thou wertbody-curer as well as soul-curer, and served my regiment for surgeon aswell as chaplain.--But where is the rascal I killed?--I never made afairer _stramacon_ in my life. The shell of my rapier struck against hisribs. So, dead he must be, or my right hand has forgot its cunning."

  "Nobody was slain," said the doctor; "we must thank God for that, sincethere were none but friends to slay. Here is a good cloak and doublet,though, wounded in a fashion which will require some skill intailor-craft to cure. But I was your last antagonist, and took a littleblood from you, merely to prepare you for the pleasure and surprise ofseeing your son, who, though hunted pretty close, as you may believe,hath made his way from Worcester hither, where, with Joceline'sassistance, we will care well enough for his safety. It was even forthis reason that I pressed you to accept of your nephew's proposal toreturn to the old Lodge, where a hundred men might be concealed, thougha thousand were making search to discover them. Never such a place forhide-and-seek, as I shall make good when I can find means to publish myWonders of Woodstock."

  "But, my son--my dear son," said the knight, "shall I not then instantlysee him! and wherefore did you not forewarn me of this joyful event?"

  "Because I was uncertain of his motions," said the doctor, "and ratherthought he was bound for the sea-side, and that it would be best to tellyou of his fate when he was safe on board, and in full sail for France.We had appointed to let you know all when I came hither to-night to joinyou. But there is a red-coat in the house whom we care not to trustfarther than we could not help. We dared not, therefore, venture in bythe hall; and so, prowling round the building, Albert informed us, thatan old prank of his, when a boy, consisted of entering by this window. Alad who was with us would needs make the experiment, as there seemed tobe no light in the chamber, and the moonlight without made us liable tobe detected. His foot slipped, and our friend Bevis came upon us."

  "In good truth, you acted simply," said Sir Henry, "to attack a garrisonwithout a summons. But all this is nothing to my son, Albert--where ishe?--Let me see him."

  "But, Sir Henry, wait," said the doctor, "till your restored strength"--

  "A plague of my restored strength, man!" answered the knight, as his oldspirit began to awaken within him.--"Dost not remember, that I lay onEdgehill-field all night, bleeding like a bullock from five severalwounds, and wore my armour within six weeks? and you talk to me of thefew drops of blood that follow such a scratch as a cat's claw might havemade!"

  "Nay, if you feel so courageous," said the doctor, "I will fetch yourson--he is not far distant."

  So saying, he left the apartment, making a sign to Alice to remain, incase any symptoms of her father's weakness should return.

  It was fortunate, perhaps, that Sir Henry never seemed to recollect theprecise nature of the alarm, which had at once, and effectually as theshock of the thunderbolt, for the moment suspended his faculties.Something he said more than once of being certain he had done mischiefwith that _stramacon_, as he called it; but his mind did not recur tothat danger, as having been incurred by his son. Alice, glad to see thather father appeared to have forgotten a circumstance so fearful, (as menoften forget the blow, or other sudden cause, which has thrown them intoa swoon,) readily excused herself from throwing much light on thematter, by pleading the general confusion. And in a few minutes, Albertcut off all farther enquiry, by entering the room, followed by thedoctor, and throwing himself alternately into the arms of his father andof his sister.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH.

  The boy is--hark ye, sirrah--what's your name?-- Oh, Jacob--ay, I recollect--the same. CRABBE.

  The affectionate relatives were united as those who, meeting under greatadversity, feel still the happiness of sharing it in common. Theyembraced again and again, and gave way to those expansions of the heart,which at once express and relieve the pressure of mental agitation. Atlength the tide of emotion began to subside; and Sir Henry, stillholding his recovered son by the hand, resumed the command of hisfeelings which he usually practised.

  "So you have seen the last of our battles, Albert," he said, "and theKing's colours have fallen for ever before the rebels."

  "It is but even so," said the young man--"the last cast of the die wasthrown, and, alas! lost at Worcester; and Cromwell's fortune carried itthere, as it has wherever he has shown himself."

  "Well--it can but be for a time--it can but be for a time," answered hisfather; "the devil is potent, they say, in raising and gratifyingfavourites, but he can grant but short leases.--And the King--the King,Albert--the King--in my ear--close, close!"

  "Our last news were confident that he had escaped from Bristol."

  "Thank God for t
hat--thank God for that!" said the knight. "Where didstthou leave him?"

  "Our men were almost all cut to pieces at the bridge," Albert replied;"but I followed his Majesty with about five hundred other officers andgentlemen, who were resolved to die around him, until as our numbers andappearance drew the whole pursuit after us, it pleased his Majesty todismiss us, with many thanks and words of comfort to us in general, andsome kind expressions to most of us in especial. He sent his royalgreeting to you, sir, in particular, and said more than becomes me torepeat."

  "Nay, I will hear it every word, boy," said Sir Henry; "is not thecertainty that thou hast discharged thy duty, and that King Charles ownsit, enough to console me for all we have lost and suffered, and wouldstthou stint me of it from a false shamefacedness?--I will have it out ofthee, were it drawn from thee with cords!"

  "It shall need no such compulsion," said the young man--"It was hisMajesty's pleasure to bid me tell Sir Henry Lee, in his name, that ifhis son could not go before his father in the race of loyalty, he was atleast following him closely, and would soon move side by side."

  "Said he so?" answered the knight--"Old Victor Lee will look down withpride on thee, Albert!--But I forget--you must be weary and hungry."

  "Even so," said Albert; "but these are things which of late I have beenin the habit of enduring for safety's sake."

  "Joceline!--what ho, Joceline!"

  The under-keeper entered, and received orders to get supper prepareddirectly.

  "My son and Dr. Rochecliffe are half starving," said the knight. "Andthere is a lad, too, below," said Joceline; "a page, he says, of ColonelAlbert's, whose belly rings cupboard too, and that to no common tune;for I think he could eat a horse, as the Yorkshireman says, behind thesaddle. He had better eat at the sideboard; for he has devoured a wholeloaf of bread and butter, as fast as Phoebe could cut it, and it has notstaid his stomach for a minute--and truly I think you had better keephim under your own eyes, for the steward beneath might ask himtroublesome questions if he went below--And then he is impatient, as allyour gentlemen pages are, and is saucy among the women."

  "Whom is it he talks of?--what page hast thou got, Albert, that bearshimself so ill?" said Sir Henry.

  "The son of a dear friend, a noble lord of Scotland, who followed thegreat Montrose's banner--afterwards joined the King in Scotland, andcame with him as far as Worcester. He was wounded the day before thebattle, and conjured me to take this youth under my charge, which I did,something unwillingly; but I could not refuse a father, perhaps on hisdeath-bed, pleading for the safety of an only son."

  "Thou hadst deserved an halter, hadst thou hesitated" said Sir Henry;"the smallest tree can always give some shelter,--and it pleases me tothink the old stock of Lee is not so totally prostrate, but it may yetbe a refuge for the distressed. Fetch the youth in;--he is of nobleblood, and these are no times of ceremony--he shall sit with us at thesame table, page though he be; and if you have not schooled himhandsomely in his manners, he may not be the worse of some lessons fromme."

  "You will excuse his national drawling accent, sir?" said Albert,"though I know you like it not."

  "I have small cause, Albert," answered the knight--"small cause.--Whostirred up these disunions?--the Scots. Who strengthened the hands ofParliament, when their cause was well nigh ruined?--the Scots again. Whodelivered up the King, their countryman, who had flung himself upon.their protection?--the Scots again. But this lad's father, you say, hasfought on the part of the noble Montrose; and such a man as the greatMarquis may make amends for the degeneracy of a whole nation."

  "Nay, father," said Albert, "and I must add, that though this lad isuncouth and wayward, and, as you will see, something wilful, yet theKing has not a more zealous friend in England; and, when occasionoffered, he fought stoutly, too, in his defence--I marvel he comes not."

  "He hath taken the bath" said Joceline, "and nothing less would servethan that he should have it immediately--the supper, he said, might begot ready in the meantime; and he commands all about him as if he werein his father's old castle, where he might have called long enough, Iwarrant, without any one to hear him."

  "Indeed?" said Sir Henry, "this must be a forward chick of the game, tocrow so early.--What is his name?"

  "His name?--it escapes me every hour, it is so hard a one," saidAlbert--"Kerneguy is his name--Louis Kerneguy; his father was LordKillstewers, of Kincardineshire."

  "Kerneguy, and Killstewers, and Kin--what d'ye call it?--Truly," saidthe knight, "these northern men's names and titles smack of theirorigin--they sound like a north-west wind, rumbling and roaring amongheather and rocks."

  "It is but the asperities of the Celtic and Saxon dialects," said Dr.Rochecliffe, "which, according to Verstegan, still linger in thosenorthern parts of the island.--But peace--here comes supper, and MasterLouis Kerneguy."

  Supper entered accordingly, borne in by Joceline and Phoebe, and afterit, leaning on a huge knotty stick, and having his nose in the air likea questing hound--for his attention was apparently more fixed on thegood provisions that went before him, than any thing else--came MasterKerneguy, and seated himself, without much ceremony, at the lower end ofthe table.

  He was a tall, rawboned lad, with a shock head of hair, fiery red, likemany of his country, while the harshness of his national features wasincreased by the contrast of his complexion, turned almost black by theexposure to all sorts of weather, which, in that skulking and ramblingmode of life, the fugitive royalists had been obliged to encounter. Hisaddress was by no means prepossessing, being a mixture of awkwardnessand forwardness, and showing in a remarkable degree, how a want of easyaddress may be consistent with an admirable stock of assurance. His faceintimated having received some recent scratches, and the care of Dr.Rochecliffe had decorated it with a number of patches, which evenenhanced its natural plainness. Yet the eyes were brilliant andexpressive, and, amid his ugliness--for it amounted to that degree ofirregularity--the face was not deficient in some lines which expressedboth sagacity and resolution.

  The dress of Albert himself was far beneath his quality, as the son ofSir Henry Lee, and commander of a regiment in the royal service; butthat of his page was still more dilapidated. A disastrous green jerkin,which had been changed to a hundred hues by sun and rain, so that theoriginal could scarce be discovered, huge clouterly shoes, leathernbreeches--such as were worn by hedgers--coarse grey worsted stockings,were the attire of the honourable youth, whose limping gait, while itadded to the ungainliness of his manner, showed, at the same time, theextent of his sufferings. His appearance bordered so much upon what isvulgarly called the queer, that even with Alice it would have excitedsome sense of ridicule, had not compassion been predominant.

  The grace was said, and the young squire of Ditchley, as well as Dr.Rochecliffe, made an excellent figure at a meal, the like of which, inquality and abundance, did not seem to have lately fallen to theirshare. But their feats were child's-play to those of the Scottish youth.Far from betraying any symptoms of the bread and butter with which hehad attempted to close the orifice of his stomach, his appetite appearedto have been sharpened by a nine-days' fast; and the knight was disposedto think that the very genius of famine himself, come forth from hisnative regions of the north, was in the act of honouring him with avisit, while, as if afraid of losing a moment's exertion, MasterKerneguy never looked either to right or left, or spoke a single word toany at table.

  "I am glad to see that you have brought a good appetite for our countryfare, young gentleman," said Sir Henry.

  "Bread of gude, sir!" said the page, "an ye'll find flesh, I'se findappetite conforming, ony day o' the year. But the truth is, sir, thatthe appeteezement has been coming on for three days or four, and themeat in this southland of yours has been scarce, and hard to come by;so, sir, I'm making up for lost time, as the piper of Sligo said, whenhe eat a hail side o' mutton."

  "You have been country-bred, young man," said the knight, who, likeothers of his time, held the reins of discipline ra
ther tight over therising generation; "at least, to judge from the youths of Scotland whomI have seen at his late Majesty's court in former days; they had lessappetite, and more--more"--As he sought the qualifying phrase, whichmight supply the place of "good manners," his guest closed the sentencein his own way--"And more meat, it may be--the better luck theirs."

  Sir Henry stared and was silent. His son seemed to think it time tointerpose--"My dear father," he said, "think how many years have runsince the Thirty-eight, when the Scottish troubles first began, and I amsure that you will not wonder that, while the Barons of Scotland havebeen, for one cause or other, perpetually in the field, the education oftheir children at home must have been much neglected, and that young menof my friend's age know better how to use a broadsword, or to toss apike, than the decent ceremonials of society."

  "The reason is a sufficient one," said the knight, "and, since thousayest thy follower Kernigo can fight, we'll not let him lack victuals,a God's name.--See, he looks angrily still at yonder cold loin ofmutton--for God's sake put it all on his plate!"

  "I can bide the bit and the buffet," said the honourable MasterKerneguy--"a hungry tike ne'er minds a blaud with a rough bane."

  "Now, God ha'e mercy, Albert, but if this be the son of a Scots peer,"said Sir Henry to his son, in a low tone of voice, "I would not be theEnglish ploughman who would change manners with him for his ancientblood, and his nobility, and his estate to boot, an he has one.--He haseaten, as I am a Christian, near four pounds of solid butcher's meat,and with the grace of a wolf tugging at the carcass of a dead horse.--Oh, he is about to drink at last--Soh!--he wipes his mouth, though,--anddips his fingers in the ewer--and dries them, I profess, with thenapkin!--there is some grace in him, after all."

  "Here is wussing all your vera gude healths!" said the youth of quality,and took a draught in proportion to the solids which he had sent before;he then flung his knife and fork awkwardly on the trencher, which hepushed back towards the centre of the table, extended his feet beneathit till they rested on their heels, folded his arms on hiswell-replenished stomach, and, lolling back in his chair, looked much asif he was about to whistle himself asleep.

  "Soh!" said the knight--"the honourable Master Kernigo hath laid downhis arms.--Withdraw these things, and give us our glasses--Fill themaround, Joceline; and if the devil or the whole Parliament were withinhearing, let them hear Henry Lee of Ditchley drink a health to KingCharles, and confusion to his enemies!"

  "Amen!" said a voice from behind the door.

  All the company looked at each other in astonishment, at a response solittle expected. It was followed by a solemn and peculiar tap, such as akind of freemasonry had introduced among royalists, and by which theywere accustomed to make themselves and their principles known to eachother, when they met by accident.

  "There is no danger," said Albert, knowing the sign--"it is afriend;--yet I wish he had been at a greater distance just now."

  "And why, my son, should you wish the absence of one true man, who may,perhaps, wish to share our abundance, on one of those rare occasionswhen we have superfluity at our disposal?--Go, Joceline, see whoknocks--and, if a safe man, admit him."

  "And if otherwise," said Joceline, "methinks I shall be able to preventhis troubling the good company."

  "No violence, Joceline, on your life," said Albert Lee; and Aliceechoed, "For God's sake, no violence!"

  "No unnecessary violence at least," said the good knight; "for if thetime demands it, I will have it seen that I am master of my own house."Joceline Joliffe nodded assent to all parties, and went on tiptoe toexchange one or two other mysterious symbols and knocks, ere he openedthe door. It, may be here remarked, that this species of secretassociation, with its signals of union, existed among the more dissoluteand desperate class of cavaliers, men habituated to the dissipated lifewhich they had been accustomed to in an ill-disciplined army, whereeverything like order and regularity was too apt to be accounted a badgeof puritanism. These were the "roaring boys" who met in hedge alehouses,and when they had by any chance obtained a little money or a littlecredit, determined to create a counter-revolution by declaring theirsittings permanent, and proclaimed, in the words of one of theirchoicest ditties,--

  "We'll drink till we bring In triumph back the king."

  The leaders and gentry, of a higher description and more regular morals,did not indeed partake such excesses, but they still kept their eye upona class of persons, who, from courage and desperation, were capable ofserving on an advantageous occasion the fallen cause of royalty; andrecorded the lodges and blind taverns at which they met, as wholesalemerchants know the houses of call of the mechanics whom they may haveoccasion to employ, and can tell where they may find them when needrequires it. It is scarce necessary to add, that among the lower class,and sometimes even among the higher, there were men found capable ofbetraying the projects and conspiracies of their associates, whetherwell or indifferently combined, to the governors of the state. Cromwell,in particular, had gained some correspondents of this kind of thehighest rank, and of the most undoubted character, among the royalists,who, if they made scruple of impeaching or betraying individuals whoconfided in them, had no hesitation in giving the government suchgeneral information as served to enable him to disappoint the purposesof any plot or conspiracy.

  To return to our story. In much shorter time than we have spent inreminding the reader of these historical particulars, Joliffe had madehis mystic communication; and being duly answered as by one of theinitiated, he undid the door, and there entered our old friend RogerWildrake, round-head in dress, as his safety and dependence on ColonelEverard compelled him to be, but that dress worn in a most cavalier-likemanner, and forming a stronger contrast than usual with the demeanourand language of the wearer, to which it was never very congenial.

  His puritanic hat, the emblem of that of Ralpho in the prints toHudibras, or, as he called it, his felt umbrella, was set most knowinglyon one side of the head, as if it had been a Spanish hat and feather;his straight square-caped sad-coloured cloak was flung gaily upon oneshoulder, as if it had been of three-plied taffeta, lined with crimsonsilk; and he paraded his huge calf-skin boots, as if they had beensilken hose and Spanish leather shoes, with roses on the instep. Inshort, the airs which he gave himself, of a most thorough-paced wildgallant and cavalier, joined to a glistening of self-satisfaction in hiseye, and an inimitable swagger in his gait, which completely announcedhis thoughtless, conceited, and reckless character, formed a mostridiculous contrast to his gravity of attire.

  It could not, on the other hand, be denied, that in spite of the touchof ridicule which attached to his character, and the loose moralitywhich he had learned in the dissipation of town pleasures, andafterwards in the disorderly life of a soldier, Wildrake had pointsabout him both to make him feared and respected. He was handsome, evenin spite of his air of debauched effrontery; a man of the most decidedcourage, though his vaunting rendered it sometimes doubtful; andentertained a sincere sense of his political principles, such as theywere, though he was often so imprudent in asserting and boasting ofthem, as, joined with his dependence on Colonel Everard, induced prudentmen to doubt his sincerity.

  Such as he was, however, he entered the parlour of Victor Lee, where hispresence was any thing but desirable to the parties present, with ajaunty step, and a consciousness of deserving the best possiblereception. This assurance was greatly aided by circumstances whichrendered it obvious, that if the jocund cavalier had limited himself toone draught of liquor that evening, in terms of his vow of temperance,it must have been a very deep and long one.

  "Save ye, gentlemen, save ye.--Save you, good Sir Henry Lee, though Ihave scarce the honour to be known to you.--Save you, worthy doctor, anda speedy resurrection to the fallen Church of England."

  "You are welcome, sir," said Sir Henry Lee, whose feelings ofhospitality, and of the fraternal reception due to a royalist sufferer,induced him to tolerate this intrusion more than he might have doneotherwise.
"If you have fought or suffered for the King, sir, it is anexcuse for joining us, and commanding our services in any thing in ourpower--although at present we are a family-party.--But I think I saw youin waiting upon Master Markham Everard, who calls himself ColonelEverard.--If your message is from him, you may wish to see me inprivate?"

  "Not at all, Sir Henry, not at all.--It is true, as my ill hap will haveit, that being on the stormy side of the hedge--like all honest men--youunderstand me, Sir Henry--I am glad, as it were, to gain something frommy old friend and comrade's countenance--not by truckling or disowningmy principles, sir--I defy such practises;--but, in short, by doing himany kindness in my power when he is pleased to call on me. So I camedown here with a message from him to the old roundheaded son of a ----(I beg the young lady's pardon, from the crown of her head down to thevery toes of her slipper)--And so, sir, chancing as I was stumbling outin the dark, I heard you give a toast, sir, which warmed my heart, sir,and ever will, sir, till death chills it;--and so I made bold to let youknow there was an honest man within hearing."

  Such was the self-introduction of Master Wildrake, to which the knightreplied, by asking him to sit down, and take a glass of sack to hisMajesty's glorious restoration. Wildrake, at this hint, squeezed inwithout ceremony beside the young Scotsman, and not only pledged hislandlord's toast, but seconded its import, by volunteering a verse ortwo of his favourite loyal ditty,--"The King shall enjoy his own again."The heartiness which he threw into his song opened still farther theheart of the old knight, though Albert and Alice looked at each otherwith looks resentful of the intrusion, and desirous to put an end to it.The honourable Master Kerneguy either possessed that happy indifferenceof temper which does not deign to notice such circumstances, or he wasable to assume the appearance of it to perfection, as he sat sippingsack, and cracking walnuts, without testifying the least sense that anaddition had been made to the party. Wildrake, who liked the liquor andthe company, showed no unwillingness to repay his landlord, by being atthe expense of the conversation.

  "You talk of fighting and suffering, Sir Henry Lee. Lord help us, wehave all had our share. All the world knows what Sir Henry Lee has donefrom Edgefield downwards, wherever a loyal sword was drawn, or a loyalflag fluttered. Ah, God help us! I have done something too. My name isRoger Wildrake of Squattlesea-mere, Lincoln; not that you are ever liketo have heard it before, but I was captain in Lunsford's light-horse,and afterwards with Goring. I was a child-eater, sir--a babe-bolter."

  "I have heard of your regiment's exploits, sir; and perhaps you may findI have seen some of them, if we should spend ten minutes together. And Ithink I have heard of your name too. I beg to drink your health, CaptainWildrake of Squattlesea-mere, Lincolnshire."

  "Sir Henry, I drink yours in this pint bumper, and upon my knee; and Iwould do as much for that young gentleman"--(looking at Albert)--"andthe squire of the green cassock too, holding it for green, as thecolours are not to my eyes altogether clear and distinguishable."

  It was a remarkable part of what is called by theatrical folk theby-play of this scene, that Albert was conversing apart with Dr.Rochecliffe in whispers, even more than the divine seemed desirous ofencouraging; yet, to whatever their private conversation referred, itdid not deprive the young Colonel of the power of listening to what wasgoing forward in the party at large, and interfering from time to time,like a watch-dog, who can distinguish the slightest alarm, even whenemployed in the engrossing process of taking his food.

  "Captain Wildrake," said Albert, "we have no objection--I mean, myfriend and I--to be communicative on proper occasions; but you, sir, whoare so old a sufferer, must needs know, that at such casual meetings asthis, men do not mention their names unless they are specially wanted.It is a point of conscience, sir, to be able to say, if your principal,Captain Everard or Colonel Everard, if he be a Colonel, should examineyou upon oath, I did not know who the persons were whom I heard drinksuch and such toasts."

  "Faith, I have a better way of it, worthy sir," answered Wildrake; "Inever can, for the life of me, remember that there were any such andsuch toasts drunk at all. It's a strange gift of forgetfulness I have."

  "Well, sir," replied the younger Lee; "but we, who have unhappily moretenacious memories, would willingly abide by the more general rule."

  "Oh, sir," answered Wildrake, "with all my heart. I intrude on no man'sconfidence, d--n me--and I only spoke for civility's sake, having thepurpose of drinking your health in a good fashion"--(Then he broke forthinto melody)--

  "'Then let the health go round, a-round, a-round, a-round, Then let the health go round; For though your stocking be of silk, Your knee shall kiss the ground, a-ground, a-ground, a-ground, Your knee shall kiss the ground.'"

  "Urge it no farther," said Sir Henry, addressing his son; "MasterWildrake is one of the old school--one of the tantivy boys; and we mustbear a little, for if they drink hard they fought well. I will neverforget how a party came up and rescued us clerks of Oxford, as theycalled the regiment I belonged to, out of a cursed embroglio during theattack on Brentford. I tell you we were enclosed with the cockneys'pikes both front and rear, and we should have come off but ill had notLunford's light-horse, the babe-eaters, as they called them, charged upto the pike's point, and brought us off."

  "I am glad you thought on that, Sir Henry," said Wildrake; "and do youremember what the officer of Lunsford's said?"

  "I think I do," said Sir Henry, smiling.

  "Well, then, did not he call out, when the women were coming down,howling like sirens as they were--'Have none of you a plump child thatyou could give us to break our fast upon?'"

  "Truth itself!" said the knight; "and a great fat woman stepped forwardwith a baby, and offered it to the supposed cannibal."

  All at the table, Master Kerneguy excepted, who seemed to think thatgood food of any kind required no apology, held up their hands in tokenof amazement.

  "Ay," said Wildrake, "the--a-hem!--I crave the lady's pardon again, fromtip of top-knot to hem of farthingale--but the cursed creature proved tobe a parish nurse, who had been paid for the child half a year inadvance. Gad, I took the babe out of the bitch-wolf's hand; and I havecontrived, though God knows I have lived in a skeldering sort of waymyself, to breed up bold Breakfast, as I call him, ever since. It waspaying dear for a jest, though."

  "Sir, I honour you for your humanity," said the old knight--"Sir, Ithank you for your courage--Sir, I am glad to see you here," said thegood knight, his eyes watering almost to overflowing. "So you were thewild officer who cut us out of the toils; Oh, sir, had you but stoppedwhen I called on you, and allowed us to clear the streets of Brentfordwith our musketeers, we would have been at London Stone that day! Butyour good will was the same."

  "Ay, truly was it," said Wildrake, who now sat triumphant and gloriousin his easy-chair; "and here is to all the brave hearts, sir, thatfought and fell in that same storm of Brentford. We drove all before uslike chaff, till the shops, where they sold strong waters, and othertemptations, brought us up. Gad, sir, we, the babe-eaters, had too manyacquaintances in Brentford, and our stout Prince Rupert was ever betterat making way than drawing off. Gad, sir, for my own poor share, I didbut go into the house of a poor widow lady, who maintained a charge ofdaughters, and whom I had known of old, to get my horse fed, a morsel ofmeat, and so forth, when these cockney-pikes of the artillery ground, asyou very well call them, rallied, and came in with their armed heads, asboldly as so many Cotswold rams. I sprang down stairs, got to myhorse,--but, egad, I fancy all my troop had widows and orphan maidens tocomfort as well as I, for only five of us got together. We cut our waythrough successfully; and Gad, gentlemen, I carried my little Breakfaston the pommel before me; and there was such a hollowing and screeching,as if the whole town thought I was to kill, roast, and eat the poorchild, so soon as I got to quarters. But devil a cockney charged up tomy bonny bay, poor lass, to rescue little cake-bread; they only criedharo, and out upon me."

  "Alas, alas!" said the knight, "we mad
e ourselves seem worse than wewere; and we were too bad to deserve God's blessing even in a goodcause. But it is needless to look back; we did not deserve victorieswhen God gave them, for we never improved them like good soldiers, orlike Christian men; and so we gave these canting scoundrels theadvantage of us, for they assumed, out of mere hypocrisy, the disciplineand orderly behaviour which we, who drew our swords in a better cause,ought to have practised out of true principle. But here is my hand,Captain. I have often wished to see the honest fellow who charged up sosmartly in our behalf, and I reverence you for the care you took of thepoor child. I am glad this dilapidated place has still some hospitalityto offer you, although we cannot treat you to roasted babes or stewedsucklings--eh, Captain?"

  "Truth, Sir Henry, the scandal was sore against us on that score. Iremember Lacy, who was an old play-actor, and a lieutenant in ours, madedrollery on it in a play which was sometimes acted at Oxford, when ourhearts were something up, called, I think, the Old Troop."

  So saying, and feeling more familiar as his merits were known, hehitched his chair up against that of the Scottish lad, who was seatednext him, and who, in shifting his place, was awkward enough to disturb,in his turn, Alice Lee, who sate opposite, and, a little offended, or atleast embarrassed, drew her chair away from the table.

  "I crave pardon," said the honourable Master Kerneguy; "but, sir," toMaster Wildrake, "ye hae e'en garr'd me hurt the young lady's shank."

  "I crave your pardon, sir, and much more that of the fair lady, as isreasonable; though, rat me, sir, if it was I set your chair a-trundlingin that way. Zooks, sir, I have brought with me no plague, norpestilence, nor other infectious disorder, that ye should have startedaway as if I had been a leper, and discomposed the lady, which I wouldhave prevented with my life, sir. Sir, if ye be northern born, as yourtongue bespeaks, egad, it was I ran the risk in drawing near you; sothere was small reason for you to bolt."

  "Master Wildrake," said Albert, interfering, "this young gentleman is astranger as well as you, under protection of Sir Henry's hospitality,and it cannot be agreeable for my father to see disputes arise among hisguests. You may mistake the young gentleman's quality from his presentappearance--this is the Honourable Master Louis Kerneguy, sir, son of myLord Killstewers of Kincardineshire, one who has fought for the King,young as he is."

  "No dispute shall rise through me, sir--none through me," said Wildrake;"your exposition sufficeth, sir.--Master Louis Girnigo, son of my LordKilsteer, in Gringardenshire, I am your humble slave, sir, and drinkyour health, in token that I honour you, and all true Scots who drawtheir Andrew Ferraras on the right side, sir."

  "I'se beholden to you, and thank you, sir," said the young man, withsome haughtiness of manner, which hardly corresponded with hisrusticity; "and I wuss your health in a ceevil way."

  Most judicious persons would have here dropped the conversation; but itwas one of Wildrake's marked peculiarities, that he could never letmatters stand when they were well. He continued to plague the shy,proud, and awkward lad with his observations. "You speak your nationaldialect pretty strongly, Master Girnigo," said he, "but I think notquite the language of the gallants that I have known among the Scottishcavaliers--I knew, for example, some of the Gordons, and others of goodrepute, who always put an _f_ for _wh_, as _faat_ for _what_, _fan_ for_when_, and the like."

  Albert Lee here interposed, and said that the provinces of Scotland,like those of England, had their different modes of pronunciation.

  "You are very right, sir," said Wildrake. "I reckon myself, now, apretty good speaker of their cursed jargon--no offence, young gentleman;and yet, when I took a turn with some of Montrose's folk, in the SouthHighlands, as they call their beastly wildernesses, (no offence again,)I chanced to be by myself, and to lose my way, when I said to ashepherd-fellow, making my mouth as wide, and my voice as broad as Icould, _whore am I ganging till?_--confound me if the fellow couldanswer me, unless, indeed, he was sulky, as the bumpkins will be now andthen to the gentlemen of the sword."

  This was familiarly spoken, and though partly addressed to Albert, wasstill more directed to his immediate neighbour, the young Scotsman, whoseemed, from bashfulness, or some other reason, rather shy of hisintimacy. To one or two personal touches from Wildrake's elbow,administered during his last speech, by way of a practical appeal to himin particular, he only answered, "Misunderstandings were to be expectedwhen men converse in national deealects."

  Wildrake, now considerably drunker than he ought to have been in civilcompany, caught up the phrase and repeated it:--"Misunderstanding,sir--Misunderstanding, sir?--I do not know how I am to construe that,sir; but to judge from the information of these scratches on yourhonourable visnomy, I should augur that you had been of late atmisunderstanding with the cat, sir."

  "You are mistaken, then, friend, for it was with the dowg," answered theScotsman, dryly, and cast a look towards Albert.

  "We had some trouble with the watch-dogs in entering so late in theevening," said Albert, in explanation, "and this youth had a fall amongsome rubbish, by which he came by these scratches."

  "And now, dear Sir Henry," said Dr. Rochecliffe, "allow us to remind youof your gout, and our long journey. I do it the rather that my goodfriend your son has been, during the whole time of supper, puttingquestions to me aside, which had much better be reserved tillto-morrow--May we therefore ask permission to retire to our night'srest?"

  "These private committees in a merry meeting," said Wildrake, "are asolecism in breeding. They always put me in mind of the cursedcommittees at Westminster.--But shall we roost before we rouse thenight-owl with a catch?"

  "Aha, canst thou quote Shakspeare?" said Sir Henry, pleased atdiscovering a new good quality in his acquaintance, whose militaryservices were otherwise but just able to counterbalance the intrusivefreedom of his conversation. "In the name of merry Will," hecontinued,--"whom I never saw, though I have seen many of his comrades,as Alleyn, Hemmings, and so on,--we will have a single catch, and onerouse about, and then to bed."

  After the usual discussion about the choice of the song, and the partswhich each was to bear, they united their voices in trolling a loyalglee, which was popular among the party at the time, and in factbelieved to be composed by no less a person than Dr. Rochecliffehimself.

  GLEE FOR KING CHARLES.

  Bring the bowl which you boast, Fill it up to the brim;'Tis to him we love most, And to all who love him.Brave gallants, stand up. And avauant, ye base carles!Were there death in the cup, Here's a health to King Charles!

  Though he wanders through dangers, Unaided, unknown,Dependent 'on strangers, Estranged from his own;Though 'tis under our breath, Amidst forfeits and perils,Here's to honour and faith, And a health to King Charles!

  Let such honours abound As the time can afford.The knee on the ground, And the hand on the sword;But the time shall come round. When, 'mid Lords, Dukes, and Earls,The loud trumpets shall sound Here's a health to King Charles!

  After this display of loyalty, and a final libation, the party tookleave of each other for the night. Sir Henry offered his oldacquaintance Wildrake a bed for the evening, who weighed the mattersomewhat in this fashion: "Why, to speak truth, my patron will expect meat the borough--but then he is used to my staying out of doors a-nights.Then there's the Devil, that they say haunts Woodstock; but with theblessing of this reverend Doctor, I defy him and all his works--I sawhim not when I slept here twice before, and I am sure if he was absentthen, he has not come back with Sir Henry Lee and his family. So Iaccept your courtesy, Sir Henry, and I thank you, as a cavalier ofLunsford should thank one of the fighting clerks of Oxon. God bless theKing! I care not who hears it, and confusion to Noll and his red nose!"Off he went accordingly with a bottle-swagger, guided by Joceline, towhom Albert, in the meantime, had whispered, to be sure to quarter himfar enough from the rest of the family.

  Young Lee then saluted his sister, and, with the formality of thosetimes, asked and received his father's blessing with an affection
ateembrace. His page seemed desirous to imitate one part of his example,but was repelled by Alice, who only replied to his offered salute with acurtsy. He next bowed his head in an awkward fashion to her father, whowished him a good night. "I am glad to see, young man," he said, "thatyou have at least learned the reverence due to age. It should always bepaid, sir; because in doing so you render that honour to others whichyou will expect yourself to receive when you approach the close of yourlife. More will I speak with you at leisure, on your duties as a page,which office in former days used to be the very school of chivalry;whereas of late, by the disorderly times, it has become little betterthan a school of wild and disordered license; which made rare Ben Jonsonexclaim"--

  "Nay, father," said Albert, interposing, "you must consider this day'sfatigue, and the poor lad is almost asleep on his legs--to-morrow hewill listen with more profit to your kind admonitions.--And you, Louis,remember at least one part of your duty--take the candles and lightus--here Joceline comes to show us the way. Once more, good night, goodDr. Rochecliffe--good night, all."

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST.

  _Groom._ Hail, noble prince! _King Richard._ Thanks, noble peer; The cheapest of us is a groat too dear. RICHARD II

  Albert and his page were ushered by Joceline to what was called theSpanish Chamber, a huge old scrambling bedroom, rather in a dilapidatedcondition, but furnished with a large standing-bed for the master, and atruckle-bed for the domestic, as was common at a much later period inold English houses, where the gentleman often required the assistance ofa groom of the chambers to help him to bed, if the hospitality had beenexuberant. The walls were covered with hangings of cordovan leather,stamped with gold, and representing fights between the Spaniards andMoriscoes, bull-feasts, and other sports peculiar to the Peninsula, fromwhich it took its name of the Spanish Chamber. These hangings were insome places entirely torn down, in others defaced and hanging intatters. But Albert stopped not to make observations, anxious, itseemed, to get Joceline out of the room; which he achieved by hastilyanswering his offers of fresh fuel, and more liquor, in the negative,and returning, with equal conciseness, the under-keeper's good wishesfor the evening. He at length retired, somewhat unwillingly, and as ifhe thought that his young master might have bestowed a few more wordsupon a faithful old retainer after so long absence.

  Joliffe was no sooner gone, than, before a single word was spokenbetween Albert Lee and his page, the former hastened to the door,examined lock, latch, and bolt, and made them fast, with the mostscrupulous attention. He superadded to these precautions that of a longscrew-bolt, which he brought out of his pocket, and which he screwed onto the staple in such a manner as to render it impossible to withdrawit, or open the door, unless by breaking it down. The page held a lightto him during the operation, which his master went through with muchexactness and dexterity. But when Albert arose from his knee, on whichhe had rested during the accomplishment of this task, the manner of thecompanions was on the sudden entirely changed towards each other. Thehonourable Master Kerneguy, from a cubbish lout of a raw Scotsman,seemed to have acquired at once all the grace and ease of motion andmanner, which could be given by an acquaintance of the earliest and mostfamiliar kind with the best company of the time.

  He gave the light he held to Albert, with the easy indifference of asuperior, who rather graces than troubles his dependent by giving himsome slight service to perform. Albert, with the greatest appearance ofdeference, assumed in his turn the character of torch-bearer, andlighted his page across the chamber, without turning his back upon himas he did so. He then set the light on the table by the bedside, andapproaching the young man with deep reverence, received from him thesoiled green jacket, with the same profound respect as if he had been afirst lord of the bedchamber, or other officer of the household of thehighest distinction, disrobing his Sovereign of the Mantle of theGarter. The person to whom this ceremony was addressed endured it for aminute or two with profound gravity, and then bursting out a-laughing,exclaimed to Albert, "What a devil means all this formality?--thoucomplimentest with these miserable rags as if they were silks andsables, and with poor Louis Kerneguy as if he were the King of GreatBritain!"

  "And if your Majesty's commands, and the circumstances of the time, havemade me for a moment seem to forget that you are my sovereign, surely Imay be permitted to render my homage as such while you are in your ownroyal palace of Woodstock?"

  "Truly," replied the disguised Monarch, "the sovereign and the palaceare not ill matched;--these tattered hangings and my ragged jerkin suiteach other admirably.--_This_ Woodstock!--_this_ the bower where theroyal Norman revelled with the fair Rosamond Clifford!--Why, it is aplace of assignation for owls." Then, suddenly recollecting himself,with his natural courtesy, he added, as if fearing he might have hurtAlbert's feelings--"But the more obscure and retired, it is the fitterfor our purpose, Lee; and if it does seem to be a roost for owls, asthere is no denying, why we know it has nevertheless brought up eagles."

  He threw himself as he spoke upon a chair, and indolently, butgracefully, received the kind offices, of Albert, who undid the coarsebuttonings of the leathern gamashes which defended his legs, and spoketo him the whilst:--"What a fine specimen of the olden time is yourfather, Sir Henry! It is strange I should not have seen him before;--butI heard my father often speak of him as being among the flower of ourreal old English gentry. By the mode in which he began to school me, Ican guess you had a tight taskmaster of him, Albert--I warrant you neverwore hat in his presence, eh?"

  "I never cocked it at least in his presence, please your Majesty, as Ihave seen some youngsters do," answered Albert; "indeed if I had, itmust have been a stout beaver to have saved me from a broken head."

  "Oh, I doubt it not," replied the king; "a fine old gentleman--but withthat, methinks, in his countenance, that assures you he would not hatethe child in sparing the rod.--Hark ye, Albert--Suppose the sameglorious Restoration come round--which, if drinking to its arrival canhasten it, should not be far distant,--for in that particular ouradherents never neglect their duty, suppose it come, therefore, and thatthy father, as must be of course, becomes an Earl and one of the PrivyCouncil, oddsfish, man, I shall be as much afraid of him as ever was mygrandfather Henri Quatre of old Sully.--Imagine there were such atrinket now about the Court as the Fair Rosamond, or La Belle Gabrielle,what a work there would be of pages, and grooms of the chamber, to getthe pretty rogue clandestinely shuffled out by the backstairs, like aprohibited commodity, when the step of the Earl of Woodstock was heardin the antechamber!"

  "I am glad to see your Majesty so--merry after your fatiguing journey."

  "The fatigue was nothing, man," said Charles; "a kind welcome and a goodmeal made amends for all that. But they must have suspected thee ofbringing a wolf from the braes of Badenoch along with you, instead of atwo-legged being, with no more than the usual allowance of mortalstowage for provisions. I was really ashamed of my appetite; but thouknowest I had eat nothing for twenty-four hours, save the raw egg youstole for me from the old woman's hen-roost--I tell thee, I blushed toshow myself so ravenous before that high-bred and respectable oldgentleman your father, and the very pretty girl your sister--or cousin,is she?"

  "She is my sister," said Albert Lee, dryly, and added, in the samebreath, "Your Majesty's appetite suited well enough with the characterof a raw northern lad.--Would your Majesty now please to retire torest?"

  "Not for a minute or two," said the King, retaining his seat. "Why, man,I have scarce had my tongue unchained to-day; and to talk with thatnorthern twang, and besides, the fatigue of being obliged to speak everyword in character,--Gad, it's like walking as the galley-slaves do onthe Continent, with a twenty-four pound shot chained to their legs--theymay drag it along, but they cannot move with comfort. And, by the way,thou art slack in paying me my well-deserved tribute of compliment on mycounterfeiting.--Did I not play Louis Kerneguy as round as a ring?"

  "I
f your Majesty asks my serious opinion, perhaps I may be forgiven if Isay your dialect was somewhat too coarse for a Scottish youth of highbirth, and your behaviour perhaps a little too churlish. I thoughttoo--though I pretend not to be skilful--that some of your Scottishsounded as if it were not genuine."

  "Not genuine?--there is no pleasing thee, Albert.--Why, who should speakgenuine Scottish but myself?--Was I not their King for a matter of tenmonths? and if I did not get knowledge of their language, I wonder whatelse I got by it. Did not east country, and south country, and westcountry, and Highlands, caw, croak, and shriek about me, as the deepguttural, the broad drawl, and the high sharp yelp predominated byturns?--Oddsfish, man, have I not been speeched at by their orators,addressed by their senators, rebuked by their kirkmen? Have I not sateon the cutty-stool, mon, [again assuming the northern dialect,] andthought it grace of worthy Mrs John Gillespie, that I was permitted todo penance in my own privy chamber, instead of the face of thecongregation? and wilt thou tell me, after all, that I cannot speakScotch enough to baffle an Oxon Knight and his family?"

  "May it please your Majesty,--I begun by saying I was no judge of theScottish language."

  "Pshaw--it is mere envy; just so you said at Norton's, that I was toocourteous and civil for a young page--now you think me too rude."

  "And there is a medium, if one could find it," said Albert, defendinghis opinion in the same tone in which the King attacked him; "so thismorning, when you were in the woman's dress, you raised your petticoatsrather unbecomingly high, as you waded through the first little stream;and when I told you of it, to mend the matter, you draggled through thenext without raising them at all."

  "O, the devil take the woman's dress!" said Charles; "I hope I shallnever be driven to that disguise again. Why, my ugly face was enough toput gowns, caps, and kirtles, out of fashion for ever--the very dogsfled from me--Had I passed any hamlet that had but five huts in it, Icould not have escaped the cucking-stool.--I was a libel on womankind.These leathern conveniences are none of the gayest, but they are_propria quae maribus_; and right glad am I to be repossessed of them. Ican tell you too, my friend, I shall resume all my masculine privilegeswith my proper habiliments; and as you say I have been too coarseto-night, I will behave myself like a courtier to Mistress Aliceto-morrow. I made a sort of acquaintance with her already, when I seemedto be of the same sex with herself, and found out there are otherColonels in the wind besides you, Colonel Albert Lee."

  "May it please your Majesty," said Albert--and then stopped short, fromthe difficulty of finding words to express the unpleasant nature of hisfeelings. They could not escape Charles; but he proceeded withoutscruple. "I pique myself on seeing as far into the hearts of youngladies as most folk, though God knows they are sometimes too deep forthe wisest of us. But I mentioned to your sister in my character offortune-teller,--thinking, poor simple man, that a country girl musthave no one but her brother to dream about,--that she was anxious abouta certain Colonel. I had hit the theme, but not the person; for Ialluded to you, Albert; and I presume the blush was too deep ever to begiven to a brother. So up she got, and away she flew from me like alap-wing. I can excuse her--for, looking at myself in the well, I thinkif I had met such a creature as I seemed, I should have called fire andfagot against it.--Now, what think you, Albert--who can this Colonel be,that more than rivals you in your sister's affection?"

  Albert, who well knew that the King's mode of thinking, where the fairsex was concerned, was far more gay than delicate, endeavoured to put astop to the present topic by a grave answer.

  "His sister," he said, "had been in some measure educated with the sonof her maternal uncle, Markham Everard; but as his father and he himselfhad adopted the cause of the roundheads, the families had in consequencebeen at variance; and any projects which might have been formerlyentertained, were of course long since dismissed on all sides."

  "You are wrong, Albert, you are wrong," said the King, pitilesslypursuing his jest. "You Colonels, whether you wear blue or orangesashes, are too pretty fellows to be dismissed so easily, when once youhave acquired an interest. But Mistress Alice, so pretty, and who wishesthe restoration of the King with such a look and accent, as if she werean angel whose prayers must needs bring it down, must not be allowed toretain any thoughts of a canting roundhead--What say you--will you giveme leave to take her to task about it?--After all, I am the party mostconcerned in maintaining true allegiance among my subjects; and if Igain the pretty maiden's good will, that of the sweetheart's will soonfollow. This was jolly King Edward's way--Edward the Fourth, you know.The king-making Earl of Warwick--the Cromwell of his day--dethroned himmore than once; but he had the hearts of the merry dames of London, andthe purses and veins of the cockneys bled freely, till they brought himhome again. How say you?--shall I shake off my northern slough, andspeak with Alice in my own character, showing what education and mannershave done for me, to make the best amends they can for an ugly face?"

  "May it please your Majesty," said Albert, in an altered and embarrassedtone, "I did not expect"--

  Here he stopped, not able to find words adequate at the same time toexpress his sentiments, and respectful enough to the King, while in hisfather's house, and under his own protection.

  "And what is it that Master Lee does not expect?" said Charles, withmarked gravity on his part.

  Again Albert attempted a reply, but advanced no farther than, "I wouldhope, if it please your Majesty"--when he again stopped short, his deepand hereditary respect for his sovereign, and his sense of thehospitality due to his misfortunes, preventing his giving utterance tohis irritated feelings.

  "And what does Colonel Albert Lee hope?" said Charles, in the same dryand cold manner in which he had before spoken.--"No answer?--Now, I_hope_ that Colonel Lee does not see in a silly jest anything offensiveto the honour of his family, since methinks that were an indifferentcompliment to his sister, his father, and himself, not to mentionCharles Stewart, whom he calls his King; and I _expect_, that I shallnot be so hardly construed, as to be supposed capable of forgetting thatMistress Alice Lee is the daughter of my faithful subject and host, andthe sister of my guide and preserver.--Come, come, Albert," he added,changing at once to his naturally frank and unceremonious manner, "youforget how long I have been abroad where men, women, and children, talkgallantry morning, noon, and night, with no more serious thought thanjust to pass away the time; and I forget, too, that you are of theold-fashioned English school, a son after Sir Henry's own heart, anddon't understand raillery upon such subjects.--But I ask your pardon,Albert, sincerely, if I have really hurt you."

  So saying, he extended his hand to Colonel Lee, who, feeling he had beenrather too hasty in construing the King's jest in an unpleasant sense,kissed it with reverence, and attempted an apology.

  "Not a word--not a word," said the good-natured Prince, raising hispenitent adherent as he attempted to kneel; "we understand each other.You are somewhat afraid of the gay reputation which I acquired inScotland; but I assure you, I will be as stupid as you or your cousinColonel could desire, in presence of Mistress Alice Lee, and only bestowmy gallantry, should I have any to throw away, upon the pretty littlewaiting-maid who attended at supper--unless you should have monopolizedher ear for your own benefit, Colonel Albert?"

  "It is monopolized, sure enough, though not by me, if it please yourMajesty, but by Joceline Joliffe, the under-keeper, whom we must notdisoblige, as we have trusted him so far already, and may have occasionto repose even entire confidence in him. I half think he suspects whoLouis Kerneguy may in reality be."

  "You are an engrossing set, you wooers of Woodstock," said the King,laughing. "Now, if I had a fancy, as a Frenchman would not fail to havein such a case, to make pretty speeches to the deaf old woman I saw inthe kitchen, as a pisaller, I dare say I should be told that her ear wasengrossed for Dr. Rochecliffe's sole use?"

  "I marvel at your Majesty's good spirits," said Albert, "that after aday of danger, fatigue, and accidents, you should f
eel the power ofamusing yourself thus."

  "That is to say, the groom of the chambers wishes his Majesty would goto sleep?--Well, one word or two on more serious business, and I havedone.--I have been completely directed by you and Rochecliffe--I havechanged my disguise from female to male upon the instant, and altered mydestination from Hampshire to take shelter here--Do you still hold itthe wiser course?"

  "I have great confidence in Dr. Rochecliffe," replied Albert, "whoseacquaintance with the scattered royalists enables him to gain the mostaccurate intelligence. His pride in the extent of his correspondence,and the complication of his plots and schemes for your Majesty'sservice, is indeed the very food he lives upon; but his sagacity isequal to his vanity. I repose, besides, the utmost faith in Joliffe. Ofmy father and sister I would say nothing; yet I would not, withoutreason, extend the knowledge of your Majesty's person farther than it isindispensably necessary."

  "Is it handsome in me," said Charles, pausing, "to withhold my fullconfidence from Sir Henry Lee?"

  "Your Majesty heard of his almost death-swoon of last night--what wouldagitate him most deeply must not be hastily communicated."

  "True; but are we safe from a visit of the red-coats--they have them inWoodstock as well as in Oxford?" said Charles.

  "Dr. Rochecliffe says, not unwisely," answered Lee, "that it is bestsitting near the fire when the chimney smokes; and that Woodstock, solately in possession of the sequestrators, and still in the vicinity ofthe soldiers, will be less suspected, and more carelessly searched, thanmore distant corners, which might seem to promise more safety. Besides,"he added, "Rochecliffe is in possession of curious and important newsconcerning the state of matters at Woodstock, highly favourable to yourMajesty's being concealed in the palace for two or three days, tillshipping is provided. The Parliament, or usurping Council of State, hadsent down sequestrators, whom their own evil conscience, assisted,perhaps, by the tricks of some daring cavaliers, had frightened out ofthe Lodge, without much desire to come back again. Then the moreformidable usurper, Cromwell, had granted a warrant of possession toColonel Everard, who had only used it for the purpose of repossessinghis uncle in the Lodge, and who kept watch in person at the littleborough, to see that Sir Henry was not disturbed."

  "What! Mistress Alice's Colonel?" said the King--"that soundsalarming;--for grant that he keeps the other fellows at bay, think younot, Master Albert, he will have an hundred errands a-day, to bring himhere in person?"

  "Dr. Rochecliffe says," answered Lee, "the treaty between Sir Henry andhis nephew binds the latter not to approach the Lodge, unlessinvited;--indeed, it was not without great difficulty, and stronglyarguing the good consequences it might produce to your Majesty's cause,that my father could be prevailed on to occupy Woodstock at all; but beassured he will be in no hurry to send an invitation to the Colonel."

  "And be you assured that the Colonel will come without waiting for one,"said Charles. "Folk cannot judge rightly where sisters areconcerned--they are too familiar with the magnet to judge of its powersof attraction.--Everard will be here, as if drawn by cart-ropes--fetters, not to talk of promises, will not hold him--and then, methinks,we are in some danger."

  "I hope not," said Albert. "In the first place, I know Markham is aslave to his word: besides, were any chance to bring him here, I think Icould pass your Majesty upon him without difficulty, as Louis Kerneguy.Then, although my cousin and I have not been on good terms for thesesome years, I believe him incapable of betraying your Majesty; andlastly, if I saw the least danger of it, I would, were he ten times theson of my mother's sister, run my sword through his body, ere he hadtime to execute his purpose."

  "There is but another question," said Charles, "and I will release you,Albert:--You seem to think yourself secure from search. It may be so;but, in any other country, this tale of goblins which is flying aboutwould bring down priests and ministers of justice to examine the realityof the story, and mobs of idle people to satisfy their curiosity."

  "Respecting the first, sir, we hope and understand that ColonelEverard's influence will prevent any immediate enquiry, for the sake ofpreserving undisturbed the peace of his uncle's family; and as for anyone coming without some sort of authority, the whole neighbours have somuch love and fear of my father, and are, besides, so horribly alarmedabout the goblins of Woodstock, that fear will silence curiosity."

  "On the whole, then," said Charles, "the chances of safety seem to be infavour of the plan we have adopted, which is all I can hope for in acondition where absolute safety is out of the question. The Bishoprecommended Dr. Rochecliffe as one of the most ingenious, boldest, andmost loyal sons of the Church of England; you, Albert Lee, have markedyour fidelity by a hundred proofs. To you and your local knowledge Isubmit myself.--And now, prepare our arms--alive I will not be taken;--yet I will not believe that a son of the King of England, and heir ofher throne, could be destined to danger in his own palace, and under theguard of the loyal Lees."

  Albert Lee laid pistols and swords in readiness by the King's bed andhis own; and Charles, after some slight apology, took his place in thelarger and better bed, with a sigh of pleasure, as from one who had notlately enjoyed such an indulgence. He bid good night to his faithfulattendant, who deposited himself on his truckle; and both monarch andsubject were soon fast asleep.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND.

  Give Sir Nicholas Threlkeld praise; Hear it, good man, old in days, Thou tree of succour and of rest

  To this young bird that was distress'd; Beneath thy branches he did stay; And he was free to sport and play, When falcons were abroad for prey. WORDSWORTH.

  The fugitive Prince slept, in spite of danger, with the profound reposewhich youth and fatigue inspire. But the young cavalier, his guide andguard, spent a more restless night, starting from time to time, andlistening; anxious, notwithstanding Dr. Rochecliffe's assurances, toprocure yet more particular knowledge concerning the state of thingsaround them, than he had been yet able to collect.

  He rose early after daybreak; but although he moved with as little noiseas was possible, the slumbers of the hunted Prince were easilydisturbed. He started up in his bed, and asked if there was any alarm.

  "None, please your Majesty," replied Lee; "only, thinking on thequestions your Majesty was asking last night, and the various chancesthere are of your Majesty's safety being endangered from unforeseenaccidents, I thought of going thus early, both to communicate with Dr.Rochecliffe, and to keep such a look-out as befits the place, where arelodged for the time the Fortunes of England. I fear I must request ofyour Majesty, for your own gracious security, that you have the goodnessto condescend to secure the door with your own hand after I go out."

  "Oh, talk not to Majesty, for Heaven's sake, dear Albert!" answered thepoor King, endeavouring in vain to put on a part of his clothes, inorder to traverse the room.--"When a King's doublet and hose are soragged that he can no more find his way into them than he could havetravelled through the forest of Deane without a guide, good faith, thereshould be an end of Majesty, until it chances to be better accommodated.Besides, there is the chance of these big words bolting out at unawares,when there are ears to hear them whom we might think dangerous."

  "Your commands shall be obeyed," said Lee, who had now succeeded inopening the door; from which he took his departure, leaving the King,who had hustled along the floor for that purpose, with his dress wofullyill arranged, to make it fast again behind him, and begging him in nocase to open to any one, unless he or Rochecliffe were of the party whosummoned him.

  Albert then set out in quest of Dr. Rochecliffe's apartment, which wasonly known to himself and the faithful Joliffe, and had at differenttimes accommodated that steady churchman with a place of concealment,when, from his bold and busy temper, which led him into the mostextensive and hazardous machinations on the King's behalf, he had beenstrictly sought after by the opposite party. Of late, the inquest afterhim had died entire
ly away, as he had prudently withdrawn himself fromthe scene of his intrigues. Since the loss of the battle of Worcester,he had been afloat again, and more active than ever; and had, by friendsand correspondents, and especially the Bishop of ----, been the means ofdirecting the King's flight towards Woodstock, although it was not untilthe very day of his arrival that he could promise him a safe receptionat that ancient mansion.

  Albert Lee, though he revered both the undaunted spirit and readyresources of the bustling and intriguing churchman, felt he had not beenenabled by him to answer some of Charles's questions yesternight, in away so distinct as one trusted with the King's safety ought to havedone; and it was now his object to make himself personally acquainted,if possible, with the various bearings of so weighty a matter, as becamea man on whom so much of the responsibility was likely to descend.

  Even his local knowledge was scarce adequate to find the Doctor's secretapartment, had he not traced his way after a genial flavour of roastedgame through divers blind passages, and up and down certain very uselessstairs, through cupboards and hatchways, and so forth, to a species ofsanctum sanctorum, where Joceline Joliffe was ministering to the goodDoctor a solemn breakfast of wild-fowl, with a cup of small beer stirredwith a sprig of rosemary, which Dr. Rochecliffe preferred to all strongpotations. Beside him sat Bevis on his tail, slobbering and lookingamiable, moved by the rare smell of the breakfast, which had quiteovercome his native dignity of disposition.

  The chamber in which the Doctor had established himself was a littleoctangular room, with walls of great thickness, within which werefabricated various issues, leading in different directions, andcommunicating with different parts of the building. Around him werepackages with arms, and near him one small barrel, as it seemed, ofgunpowder; many papers in different parcels, and several keys forcorrespondence in cipher; two or three scrolls covered withhieroglyphics were also beside him, which Albert took for plans ofnativity; and various models of machinery, in which Dr. Rochecliffe wasan adept. There were also tools of various kinds, masks, cloaks, and adark lantern, and a number of other indescribable trinkets belonging tothe trade of a daring plotter in dangerous times. Last, there was acasket with gold and silver coin of different countries, which was leftcarelessly open, as if it were the least of Dr. Rochecliffe's concern,although his habits in general announced narrow circumstances, if notactual poverty. Close by the divine's plate lay a Bible and Prayer-book,with some proof sheets, as they are technically called, seemingly freshfrom the press. There was also within the reach of his hand a dirk, orScottish poniard, a powder-horn, and a musketoon, or blunderbuss, with apair of handsome pocket-pistols. In the midst of this miscellaneouscollection, the Doctor sat eating his breakfast with great appetite, aslittle dismayed by the various implements of danger around him, as aworkman is when accustomed to the perils of a gunpowder manufactory.

  "So, young gentleman," he said, getting up and extending his hand, "areyou come to breakfast with me in good fellowship, or to spoil my mealthis morning, as you did my supper last night, by asking untimelyquestions?"

  "I will pick a bone with you with all my heart," said Albert; "and ifyou please, Doctor, I would ask some questions which seem not quiteuntimely."

  So saying he sat down, and assisted the Doctor in giving a verysatisfactory account of a brace of wild-ducks and a leash of teal.Bevis, who maintained his place with great patience and insinuation, hadhis share of a collop, which was also placed on the well-furnishedboard; for, like most high-bred dogs, he declined eating waterfowl.

  "Come hither then, Albert Lee," said the Doctor, laying down his knifeand fork, and plucking the towel from his throat, so soon as Jocelinewas withdrawn; "thou art still the same lad thou wert when I was thytutor--never satisfied with having got a grammar rule, but alwayspersecuting me with questions why the rule stood so, and not otherwise--over-curious after information which thou couldst not comprehend, asBevis slobbered and whined for the duck-wing, which he could not eat."

  "I hope you will find me more reasonable, Doctor," answered Albert; "andat the same time, that you will recollect I am not now _sub ferula_, butam placed in circumstances where I am not at liberty to act upon the_ipse dixit_ of any man, unless my own judgment be convinced. I shalldeserve richly to be hanged, drawn, and quartered, should any misfortunehappen by my misgovernment in this business."

  "And it is therefore, Albert, that I would have thee trust the whole tome, without interfering. Thou sayest, forsooth, thou art not _subferula_; but recollect that while you have been fighting in the field, Ihave been plotting in the study--that I know all the combinations of theKing's friends, ay, and all the motions of his enemies, as well as aspider knows every mesh of his web. Think of my experience, man. Not acavalier in the land but has heard of Rochecliffe, the Plotter. I havebeen a main limb in every thing that has been attempted sinceforty-two--penned declarations, conducted correspondence, communicatedwith chiefs, recruited followers, commissioned arms, levied money,appointed rendezvouses. I was in the Western Riding; and before that, inthe City Petition, and in Sir John Owen's stir in Wales; in short,almost in every plot for the King, since Tomkins and Challoner'smatter."

  "But were not all these plots unsuccessful?" said Albert; "and were notTomkins and Challoner hanged, Doctor?"

  "Yes, my young friend," answered the Doctor, gravely, "as many othershave been with whom I have acted; but only because they did not followmy advice implicitly. You never heard that I was hanged myself?"

  "The time may come, Doctor," said Albert; "The pitcher goes oft to thewell.--The proverb, as my father would say, is somewhat musty. But I,too, have some confidence in my own judgment; and, much as I honour theChurch, I cannot altogether subscribe to passive obedience. I will tellyou in one word what points I must have explanation on; and it willremain with you to give it, or to return a message to the King that youwill not explain your plan; in which case, if he acts by my advice, hewill leave Woodstock, and resume his purpose of getting to the coastwithout delay."

  "Well, then," said the Doctor, "thou suspicious monster, make thydemands, and, if they be such as I can answer without betrayingconfidence, I will reply to them."

  "In the first place, then, what is all this story about ghosts, andwitch-crafts, and apparitions? and do you consider it as safe for hisMajesty to stay in a house subject to such visitations, real orpretended?"

  "You must be satisfied with my answer _in verbo sacerdotis_--thecircumstances you allude to will not give the least annoyance toWoodstock during the King's residence. I cannot explain farther; but forthis I will be bound, at the risk of my neck."

  "Then," said Lee, "we must take Dr. Rochecliffe's bail that the devilwill keep the peace towards our Sovereign Lord the King--good. Now therelurked about this house the greater part of yesterday, and perhaps slepthere, a fellow called Tomkins,--a bitter Independent, and a secretary,or clerk, or something or other, to the regicide dog Desborough. The manis well known--a wild ranter in religious opinions, but in privateaffairs far-sighted, cunning, and interested even as any rogue of themall."

  "Be assured we will avail ourselves of his crazy fanaticism to misleadhis wicked cunning;--a child may lead a hog, if it has wit to fasten acord to the ring in its nose," replied the Doctor.

  "You may be deceived," said Albert; "the age has many such as thisfellow, whose views of the spiritual and temporal world are sodifferent, that they resemble the eyes of a squinting man; one of which,oblique and distorted, sees nothing but the end of his nose, while theother, instead of partaking the same defect, views strongly, sharply,and acutely, whatever is subjected to its scrutiny."

  "But we will put a patch on the better eye," said the Doctor, "and heshall only be allowed to speculate with the imperfect optic. You mustknow, this fellow has always seen the greatest number, and the mosthideous apparitions; he has not the courage of a cat in such matters,though stout enough when he hath temporal antagonists before him. I haveplaced him under the charge of Joceline Joliffe, who, betwixt plying hi
mwith sack and ghost-stories, would make him incapable of knowing whatwas done, if you were to proclaim the King in his presence."

  "But why keep such a fellow here at all?"

  "Oh, sir, content you;--he lies leaguer, as a sort of ambassador for hisworthy masters, and we are secure from any intrusion so long as they getall the news of Woodstock from Trusty Tomkins."

  "I know Joceline's honesty well," said Albert; "and if he can assure methat he will keep a watch over this fellow, I will so far trust in him.He does not know the depth of the stake, 'tis true, but that my life isconcerned will be quite enough to keep him vigilant.--Well, then, Iproceed:--What if Markham Everard comes down on us?"

  "We have his word to the contrary," answered Rochecliffe--"his word ofhonour, transmitted by his friend:--Do you think it likely he will breakit?"

  "I hold him incapable of doing so," answered Albert; "and, besides, Ithink Markham would make no bad use of any thing which might come to hisknowledge--Yet God forbid we should be under the necessity of trustingany who ever wore the Parliament's colours in a matter of such dearconcernment!"

  "Amen!" said the Doctor.--"Are your doubts silenced now?"

  "I still have an objection," said Albert, "to yonder impudent rakehellyfellow, styling himself a cavalier, who rushed himself on our companylast night, and gained my father's heart by a story of the storm ofBrentford, which I dare say the rogue never saw."

  "You mistake him, dear Albert," replied Rochecliffe--"Roger Wildrake,although till of late I only knew him by name, is a gentleman, was bredat the Inns of Court, and spent his estate in the King's service."

  "Or rather in the devil's service," said Albert. "It is such fellows ashe, who, sunk from the license of their military habits into idledebauched ruffians, infest the land with riots and robberies, brawl inhedge alehouses and cellars where strong waters are sold at midnight,and, with their deep oaths, their hot loyalty, and their drunken valour,make decent men abominate the very name of cavalier."

  "Alas!" said the Doctor, "it is but too true; but what can you expect?When the higher and more qualified classes are broken down and mingledundistinguishably with the lower orders, they are apt to lose the mostvaluable marks of their quality in the general confusion of morals andmanners--just as a handful of silver medals will become defaced anddiscoloured if jumbled about among the vulgar copper coin. Even theprime medal of all, which we royalists would so willingly wear next ourvery hearts, has not, perhaps, entirely escaped some deterioration--Butlet other tongues than mine speak on that subject."

  Albert Lee paused deeply after having heard these communications on thepart of Rochecliffe. "Doctor," he said, "it is generally agreed, even bysome who think you may occasionally have been a little over busy inputting men upon dangerous actions"--

  "May God forgive them who entertain so false an opinion of me," said theDoctor.

  --"That, nevertheless, you have done and suffered more in the King'sbehalf than any man of your function."

  "They do me but justice there," said Dr. Rochecliffe--"absolutejustice."

  "I am therefore disposed to abide by your opinion, if, all thingsconsidered, you think it safe that we should remain at Woodstock."

  "That is not the question," answered the divine.

  "And what is the question, then?" replied the young soldier.

  "Whether any safer course can be pointed out. I grieve to say, that thequestion must be comparative, as to the point of option. Absolute safetyis--alas the while!--out of the question on all sides. Now, I sayWoodstock is, fenced and guarded as at present, by far the mostpreferable place of concealment."

  "Enough," replied Albert; "I give up to you the question, as to a personwhose knowledge of such important affairs, not to mention your age andexperience, is more intimate and extensive than mine can be."

  "You do well," answered Rochecliffe; "and if others had acted with thelike distrust of their own knowledge, and confidence in competentpersons, it had been better for the age. This makes Understanding barhimself up within his fortalice, and Wit betake himself to his hightower." (Here he looked around his cell with an air of self-complacence.)"The wise man forseeth the tempest, and hideth himself."

  "Doctor," said Albert, "let our foresight serve others far more preciousthan either of us. Let me ask you, if you have well considered whetherour precious charge should remain in society with the family, or betakehimself to some of the more hidden corners of the house?"

  "Hum!" said the Doctor, with an air of deep reflection--"I think he willbe safest as Louis Kerneguy, keeping himself close beside you"--

  "I fear it will be necessary," added Albert, "that I scout abroad alittle, and show myself in some distant part of the country, lest,coming here in quest of me, they should find higher game."

  "Pray do not interrupt me--Keeping himself close beside you or yourfather, in or near to Victor Lee's apartment, from which you are awarehe can make a ready escape, should danger approach. This occurs to me asbest for the present--I hope to hear of the vessel to-day--to-morrow atfarthest."

  Albert Lee bid the active but opiniated man good morrow; admiring howthis species of intrigue had become a sort of element in which theDoctor seemed to enjoy himself, notwithstanding all that the poet hassaid concerning the horrors which intervene betwixt the conception andexecution of a conspiracy.

  In returning from Dr. Rochecliffe's sanctuary, he met with Joceline, whowas anxiously seeking him. "The young Scotch gentleman," he said, in amysterious manner, "has arisen from bed, and, hearing me pass, he calledme into his apartment."

  "Well," replied Albert, "I will see him presently."

  "And he asked me for fresh linen and clothes. Now, sir, he is like a manwho is quite accustomed to be obeyed, so I gave him a suit whichhappened to be in a wardrobe in the west tower, and some of your linento conform; and when he was dressed, he commanded me to show him to thepresence of Sir Henry Lee and my young lady. I would have saidsomething, sir, about waiting till you came back, but he pulled megoodnaturedly by the hair, (as, indeed, he has a rare humour of hisown,) and told me, he was guest to Master Albert Lee, and not hisprisoner; so, sir, though I thought you might be displeased with me forgiving him the means of stirring abroad, and perhaps being seen by thosewho should not see him, what could I say?"

  "You are a sensible fellow, Joceline, and comprehend always what isrecommended to you. This youth will not be controlled, I fear, by eitherof us; but we must look the closer after his safety. You keep your watchover that prying fellow the steward?"

  "Trust him to my care--on that side have no fear. But ah, sir! I wouldwe had the young Scot in his old clothes again, for the riding-suit ofyours which he now wears hath set him off in other-guess fashion."

  From the manner in which the faithful dependent expressed himself,Albert saw that he suspected who the Scottish page in reality was; yethe did not think it proper to acknowledge to him a fact of suchimportance, secure as he was equally of his fidelity, whether explicitlytrusted to the full extent, or left to his own conjectures. Full ofanxious thought, he went to the apartment of Victor Lee, in whichJoliffe told him he would find the party assembled. The sound oflaughter, as he laid his hand on the lock of the door, almost made himstart, so singularly did it jar with the doubtful and melancholyreflections which engaged his own mind. He entered, and found his fatherin high good-humour, laughing and conversing freely with his youngcharge, whose appearance was, indeed, so much changed to the better inexternals, that it seemed scarce possible a night's rest, a toilet, anda suit of decent clothes, could have done so much in his favour in soshort a time. It could not, however, be imputed to the mere alterationof dress, although that, no doubt, had its effect. There was nothingsplendid in that which Louis Kerneguy (we continue to call him by hisassumed name) now wore. It was merely a riding-suit of grey cloth, withsome silver lace, in the fashion of a country gentleman of the time. Butit happened to fit him very well, and to become his very darkcomplexion, especially as he now held up his head, and used th
e manners,not only of a well-behaved but of a highly-accomplished gentleman. Whenhe moved, his clumsy and awkward limp was exchanged for a sort ofshuffle, which, as it might be the consequence of a wound in thoseperilous times, had rather an interesting than an ungainly effect. Atleast it was as genteel an expression that the party had been overhardtravelled, as the most polite pedestrian could propose to himself.

  The features of the Wanderer were harsh as ever, but his red shockperuke, for such it proved, was laid aside, his sable elf-locks weretrained, by a little of Joceline's assistance, into curls, and his fineblack eyes shone from among the shade of these curls, and correspondedwith the animated, though not handsome, character of the whole head. Inhis conversation, he had laid aside all the coarseness of dialect whichhe had so strongly affected on the preceding evening; and although hecontinued to speak a little Scotch, for the support of his character asa young gentleman of that nation, yet it was not in a degree whichrendered his speech either uncouth or unintelligible, but merelyafforded a certain Doric tinge essential to the personage herepresented. No person on earth could better understand the society inwhich he moved; exile had made him acquainted with life in all itsshades and varieties;--his spirits, if not uniform, were elastic--he hadthat species of Epicurean philosophy, which, even in the most extremedifficulties and dangers, can, in an interval of ease, however brief,avail itself of the enjoyments of the moment--he was, in short, in youthand misfortune, as afterwards in his regal condition, a good-humouredbut hard-hearted voluptuary--wise, save where his passionsintervened--beneficent, save when prodigality had deprived him of themeans, or prejudice of the wish, to confer benefits--his faults such asmight often have drawn down hatred, but that they were mingled with somuch urbanity, that the injured person felt it impossible to retain thefull sense of his wrongs.

  Albert Lee found the party, consisting of his father, sister, and thesupposed page, seated by the breakfast-table, at which he also took hisplace. He was a pensive and anxious beholder of what passed, while thepage, who had already completely gained the heart of the good oldcavalier, by mimicking the manner in which the Scottish divines preachedin favour of Ma gude Lord Marquis of Argyle and the Solemn League andCovenant, was now endeavouring to interest the fair Alice by suchanecdotes, partly of warlike and perilous adventure, as possessed thesame degree of interest for the female ear which they have had eversince Desdemona's days. But it was not only of dangers by land and seathat the disguised page spoke; but much more, and much oftener, onforeign revels, banquets, balls, where the pride of France, of Spain, orof the Low Countries, was exhibited in the eyes of their most eminentbeauties. Alice being a very young girl, who, in consequence of theCivil War, had been almost entirely educated in the country, and oftenin great seclusion, it was certainly no wonder that she should listenwith willing ears, and a ready smile, to what the young gentleman, theirguest, and her brother's protege, told with so much gaiety, and mingledwith such a shade of dangerous adventure, and occasionally of seriousreflection, as prevented the discourse from being regarded as merelylight and frivolous.

  In a word, Sir Henry Lee laughed, Alice smiled from time to time, andall were satisfied but Albert, who would himself, however, have beenscarce able to allege a sufficient reason for his depression of spirits.The materials of breakfast were at last removed, under the activesuperintendence of the neat-handed Phoebe, who looked over her shoulder,and lingered more than once, to listen to the fluent discourse of theirnew guest, whom, on the preceding evening, she had, while in attendanceat supper, accounted one of the most stupid inmates to whom the gates ofWoodstock had been opened since the times of Fair Rosamond.

  Louis Kerneguy then, when they were left only four in the chamber,without the interruption of domestics, and the successive bustleoccasioned by the discussion and removal of the morning meal, becameapparently sensible, that his friend and ostensible patron Albert oughtnot altogether to be suffered to drop to leeward in the conversation,while he was himself successfully engaging the attention of thosemembers of his family to whom he had become so recently known. He wentbehind his chair, therefore, and, leaning on the back, said with agood-humoured tone, which made his purpose entirely intelligible,--

  "Either my good friend, guide, and patron, has heard worse news thismorning than he cares to tell us, or he must have stumbled over mytattered jerkin and leathern hose, and acquired, by contact, the wholemass of stupidity which I threw off last night with those most dolorousgarments. Cheer up, my dear Colonel Albert, if your affectionate pagemay presume to say so--you are in company with those whose society, dearto strangers, must be doubly so to you. Oddsfish, man, cheer up! I haveseen you gay on a biscuit and a mouthful of water-cresses--don't letyour heart fail you on Rhenish wine and venison."

  "Dear Louis," said Albert, rousing himself into exertion, and somewhatashamed of his own silence, "I have slept worse, and been astir earlierthan you."

  "Be it so," said his father; "yet I hold it no good excuse for yoursullen silence. Albert, you have met your sister and me, so longseparated from you, so anxious on your behalf, almost like merestrangers, and yet you are returned safe to us, and you find us well."

  "Returned indeed--but for safety, my dear father, that word must be astranger to us Worcester folk for some time. However, it is not my ownsafety about which I am anxious."

  "About whose, then, should you be anxious?--All accounts agree that theKing is safe out of the dogs' jaws."

  "Not without some danger, though," muttered Louis, thinking of hisencounter with Bevis on the preceding evening.

  "No, not without danger, indeed," echoed the knight; "but, as old Willsays,--

  'There's such divinity doth hedge a king, That treason dares not peep at what it would.'

  "No, no--thank God, that's cared for; our Hope and Fortune is escaped,so all news affirm, escaped from Bristol--if I thought otherwise,Albert, I should be as sad as you are. For the rest of it, I have lurkeda month in this house when discovery would have been death, and that isno longer since than after Lord Holland and the Duke of Buckingham'srising at Kingston; and hang me, if I thought once of twisting my browinto such a tragic fold as yours, but cocked my hat at misfortune as acavalier should."

  "If I might put in a word," said Louis, "it would be to assure ColonelAlbert Lee that I verily believe the King would think his own hap,wherever he may be, much the worse that his best subjects were seizedwith dejection on his account."

  "You answer boldly on the King's part, young man," said Sir Henry.

  "Oh, my father was meikle about the King's hand," answered Louis,recollecting his present character.

  "No wonder, then," said Sir Henry, "that you have so soon recovered yourgood spirits and good breeding, when you heard of his Majesty's escape.Why, you are no more like the lad we saw last night, than the besthunter I ever had was like a dray-horse."

  "Oh, there is much in rest, and food, and grooming," answered Louis."You would hardly know the tired jade you dismounted from last night,when she is brought out prancing and neighing the next morning, rested,refreshed, and ready to start again--especially if the brute hath somegood blood, for such pick up unco fast."

  "Well, then, but since thy father was a courtier, and thou hast learned,I think, something of the trade, tell us a little, Master Kerneguy, ofhim we love most to hear about--the King; we are all safe and secret,you need not be afraid. He was a hopeful youth; I trust his flourishingblossom now gives promise of fruit?"

  As the knight spoke, Louis bent his eyes on the ground, and seemed atfirst uncertain what to answer. But, admirable at extricating himselffrom such dilemmas, he replied, "that he really could not presume tospeak on such a subject in the presence of his patron, Colonel AlbertLee, who must be a much better judge of the character of King Charlesthan he could pretend to be."

  Albert was accordingly next assailed by the Knight, seconded by Alice,for some account of his Majesty's character.

  "I will speak but according to facts," said Albert; "and then I
must beacquitted of partiality. If the King had not possessed enterprise andmilitary skill, he never would have attempted the expedition toWorcester;--had he not had personal courage, he had not so long disputedthe battle that Cromwell almost judged it lost. That he possessesprudence and patience, must be argued from the circumstances attendinghis flight; and that he has the love of his subjects is evident, since,necessarily known to many, he has been betrayed by none."

  "For shame, Albert!" replied his sister; "is that the way a goodcavalier doles out the character of his Prince, applying an instance atevery concession, like a pedlar measuring linen with his rod?--Out uponyou!--no wonder you were beaten, if you fought as coldly for your Kingas you now talk for him."

  "I did my best to trace a likeness from what I have seen and known ofthe original, sister Alice," replied her brother.--"If you would have afancy portrait, you must get an artist of more imagination than I haveto draw it for you."

  "I will be that artist myself" said Alice; "and, in _my_ portrait, ourMonarch shall show all that he ought to be, having such highpretensions--all that he must be, being so loftily descended--all that Iam sure he is, and that every loyal heart in the kingdom ought tobelieve him."

  "Well said, Alice," quoth the old knight--"Look thou upon this picture,and on this!--Here is our young friend shall judge. I wager my bestnag--that is, I would wager him had I one left--that Alice proves thebetter painter of the two.--My son's brain is still misty, I think,since his defeat--he has not got the smoke of Worcester out of it.Plague on thee!--a young man, and cast down for one beating? Had youbeen banged twenty times like me, it had been time to look grave.--Butcome, Alice, forward; the colours are mixed on your pallet--forward withsomething that shall show like one of Vandyck's living portraits, placedbeside the dull dry presentation there of our ancestor Victor Lee."

  Alice, it must be observed, had been educated by her father in thenotions of high and even exaggerated loyalty, which characterized thecavaliers, and she was really an enthusiast in the royal cause. But,besides, she was in good spirits at her brother's happy return, andwished to prolong the gay humour in which her father had of latescarcely ever indulged.

  "Well, then," she said, "though I am no Apelles, I will try to paint anAlexander, such as I hope, and am determined to believe, exists in theperson of our exiled sovereign, soon I trust to be restored. And I willnot go farther than his own family. He shall have all the chivalrouscourage, all the warlike skill, of Henry of France, his grandfather, inorder to place him on the throne; all his benevolence, love of hispeople, patience even of unpleasing advice, sacrifice of his own wishesand pleasures to the commonweal, that, seated there, he may be blestwhile living, and so long remembered when dead, that for ages after itshall be thought sacrilege to breathe an aspersion against the thronewhich he had occupied! Long after he is dead, while there remains an oldman who has seen him, were the condition of that survivor no higher thana groom or a menial, his age shall be provided for at the public charge,and his grey hairs regarded with more distinction than an earl'scoronet, because he remembers the Second Charles, the monarch of everyheart in England!"

  While Alice spoke, she was hardly conscious of the presence of any onesave her father and brother; for the page withdrew himself somewhat fromthe circle, and there was nothing to remind her of him. She gave thereins, therefore, to her enthusiasm; and as the tears glittered in hereye, and her beautiful features became animated, she seemed like adescended cherub proclaiming the virtues of a patriot monarch. Theperson chiefly interested in her description held himself back, as wehave said, and concealed his own features, yet so as to preserve a fullview of the beautiful speaker.

  Albert Lee, conscious in whose presence this eulogium was pronounced,was much embarrassed; but his father, all whose feelings were flatteredby the panegyric, was in rapture.

  "So much for the _King_, Alice," he said, "and now for the _Man_."

  "For the man," replied Alice, in the same tone, "need I wish him morethan the paternal virtues of his unhappy father, of whom his worstenemies have recorded, that if moral virtues and religious faith were tobe selected as the qualities which merited a crown, no man could pleadthe possession of them in a higher or more indisputable degree.Temperate, wise, and frugal, yet munificent in rewarding merit--a friendto letters and the muses, but a severe discourager of the misuse of suchgifts--a worthy gentleman--a kind master--the best friend, the bestfather, the best Christian"--Her voice began to falter, and her father'shandkerchief was already at his eyes.

  "He was, girl, he was!" exclaimed Sir Henry; "but no more on't, I chargeye--no more on't--enough; let his son but possess his virtues, withbetter advisers, and better fortunes, and he will be all that England,in her warmest wishes, could desire."

  There was a pause after this; for Alice felt as if she had spoken toofrankly and too zealously for her sex and youth. Sir Henry was occupiedin melancholy recollections on the fate of his late sovereign, whileKerneguy and his supposed patron felt embarrassed, perhaps from aconsciousness that the real Charles fell far short of his idealcharacter, as designed in such glowing colours. In some cases,exaggerated or unappropriate praise becomes the most severe satire.

  But such reflections were not of a nature to be long willingly cherishedby the person to whom they might have been of great advantage. Heassumed a tone of raillery, which is, perhaps, the readiest mode ofescaping from the feelings of self-reproof. "Every cavalier," he said,"should bend his knee to thank Mistress Alice Lee for having made such aflattering portrait of the King their master, by laying undercontribution for his benefit the virtues of all his ancestors; onlythere was one point he would not have expected a female painter to havepassed over in silence. When she made him, in right of his grandfatherand father, a muster of royal and individual excellences, why could shenot have endowed him at the same time with his mother's personal charms?Why should not the son of Henrietta Maria, the finest woman of her day,add the recommendations of a handsome face and figure to his internalqualities? He had the same hereditary title to good looks as to mentalqualifications; and the picture, with such an addition, would be perfectin its way--and God send it might be a resemblance."

  "I understand you, Master Kerneguy," said Alice; "but I am no fairy, tobestow, as those do in the nursery tales, gifts which Providence hasdenied. I am woman enough to have made enquiries on the subject, and Iknow the general report is, that the King, to have been the son of suchhandsome parents, is unusually hard-favoured."

  "Good God, sister!" said Albert, starting impatiently from his seat."Why, you yourself told me so," said Alice, surprised at the emotion hetestified; "and you said"--

  "This is intolerable," muttered Albert; "I must out to speak withJoceline without delay--Louis," (with an imploring look to Kerneguy,)"you will surely come with me?"

  "I would with all my heart," said Kerneguy, smiling maliciously; "butyou see how I suffer still from lameness.--Nay, nay, Albert," hewhispered, resisting young Lee's attempt to prevail on him to leave theroom, "can you suppose I am fool enough to be hurt by this?--on thecontrary, I have a desire of profiting by it."

  "May God grant it!" said Lee to himself, as he left the room--"it willbe the first lecture you ever profited by; and the devil confound theplots and plotters who made me bring you to this place!" So saying, hecarried his discontent forth into the Park.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD.

  For there, they say, he daily doth frequent With unrestrained loose companions; While he, young, wanton, and effeminate boy, Takes on the point of honour, to support So dissolute a crew. RICHARD II.

  The conversation which Albert had in vain endeavoured to interrupt,flowed on in the same course after he had left the room. It entertainedLouis Kerneguy; for personal vanity, or an over-sensitiveness todeserved reproof, were not among the faults of his character, and wereindeed incompatible with an understanding, which, combined with morestrength of principle, steadiness of exert
ion, and self-denial, mighthave placed Charles high on the list of English monarchs. On the otherhand, Sir Henry listened with natural delight to the noble sentimentsuttered by a being so beloved as his daughter. His own parts were rathersteady than brilliant; and he had that species of imagination which isnot easily excited without the action of another, as the electricalglobe only scintillates when rubbed against its cushion. He was wellpleased, therefore, when Kerneguy pursued the conversation, by observingthat Mistress Alice Lee had not explained how the same good fairy thatconferred moral qualities, could not also remove corporeal blemishes.

  "You mistake, sir," said Alice. "I confer nothing. I do but attempt topaint our King such as I _hope_ he is--such as I am sure he _may_ be,should he himself desire to be so. The same general report which speaksof his countenance as unprepossessing, describes his talents as being ofthe first order. He has, therefore, the means of arriving at excellence,should he cultivate them sedulously and employ them usefully--should herule his passions and be guided by his understanding. Every good mancannot be wise; but it is in the power of every wise man, if he pleases,to be as eminent for virtue as for talent."

  Young Kerneguy rose briskly, and took a turn through the room; and erethe knight could make any observation on the singular vivacity in whichhe had indulged, he threw himself again into his chair, and said, inrather an altered tone of voice--"It seems, then, Mistress Alice Lee,that the good friends who have described this poor King to you, havebeen as unfavourable in their account of his morals as of his person?"

  "The truth must be better known to you, sir," said Alice, "than it canbe to me. Some rumours there have been which accuse him of a license,which, whatever allowance flatterers make for it, does not, to say theleast, become the son of the Martyr--I shall be happy to have thesecontradicted on good authority."

  "I am surprised at your folly," said Sir Henry Lee, "in hinting at suchthings, Alice; a pack of scandal, invented by the rascals who haveusurped the government--a thing devised by the enemy."

  "Nay, sir," said Kerneguy, laughing, "we must not let our zeal chargethe enemy with more scandal than they actually deserve. Mistress Alicehas put the question to me. I can only answer, that no one can be moredevotedly attached to the King than I myself,--that I am very partial tohis merits and blind to his defects;--and that, in short, I would be thelast man in the world to give up his cause where it was tenable.Nevertheless, I must confess, that if all his grandfather of Navarre'smorals have not descended to him, this poor King has somehow inherited ashare of the specks that were thought to dim the lustre of that greatPrince--that Charles is a little soft-hearted, or so, where beauty isconcerned.--Do not blame him too severely, pretty Mistress Alice; when aman's hard fate has driven him among thorns, it were surely hard toprevent him from trifling with the few roses he may find among them?"

  Alice, who probably thought the conversation had gone far enough, rosewhile Master Kerneguy was speaking, and was leaving the room before hehad finished, without apparently hearing the interrogation with which heconcluded. Her father approved of her departure, not thinking the turnwhich Kerneguy had given to the discourse altogether fit for herpresence; and, desirous civilly to break off the conversation, "I see,"he said, "this is about the time, when, as Will says, the householdaffairs will call my daughter hence; I will therefore challenge you,young gentleman, to stretch your limbs in a little exercise with me,either at single rapier, or rapier and poniard, back-sword, spadroon, oryour national weapons of broad-sword and target; for all or any of whichI think we shall find implements in the hall."

  It would be too high a distinction, Master Kerneguy said, for a poorpage to be permitted to try a passage of arms with a knight so renownedas Sir Henry Lee, and he hoped to enjoy so great an honour before heleft Woodstock; but at the present moment his lameness continued togive him so much pain, that he should shame himself in the attempt.

  Sir Henry then offered to read him a play of Shakspeare, and for thispurpose turned up King Richard II. But hardly had he commenced with

  "Old John of Gaunt, time-honored Lancaster,"

  when the young gentleman was seized with such an incontrollable fit ofthe cramp as could only be relieved by immediate exercise. He thereforebegged permission to be allowed to saunter abroad for a little while, ifSir Henry Lee considered he might venture without danger.

  "I can answer for the two or three of our people that are still leftabout the place," said Sir Henry; "and I know my son has disposed themso as to be constantly on the watch. If you hear the bell toll at theLodge, I advise you to come straight home by the way of the King's Oak,which you see in yonder glade towering above the rest of the trees. Wewill have some one stationed there to introduce you secretly into thehouse."

  The page listened to these cautions with the impatience of a schoolboy,who, desirous of enjoying his holiday, hears without marking the adviceof tutor or parent, about taking care not to catch cold, and so forth.

  The absence of Alice Lee had removed all which had rendered the interiorof the Lodge agreeable, and the mercurial young page fled withprecipitation from the exercise and amusement which Sir Henry hadproposed. He girded on his rapier, and threw his cloak, or rather thatwhich belonged to his borrowed suit, about him, bringing up the lowerpart so as to muffle the face and show only the eyes over it, which wasa common way of wearing them in those days, both in streets, in thecountry, and in public places, when men had a mind to be private, and toavoid interruption from salutations and greetings in the market-place.He hurried across the open space which divided the front of the Lodgefrom the wood, with the haste of a bird, escaped from the cage, which,though joyful at its liberation, is at the same time sensible of itsneed of protection and shelter. The wood seemed to afford these to thehuman fugitive, as it might have done to the bird in question.

  When under the shadow of the branches, and within the verge of theforest, covered from observation, yet with the power of surveying thefront of the Lodge, and all the open ground before it, the supposedLouis Kerneguy meditated on his escape.

  "What an infliction--to fence with a gouty old man, who knows not, Idare say, a trick of the sword which was not familiar in the days of oldVincent Saviolo! or, as a change of misery, to hear him read one ofthose wildernesses of scenes which the English call a play, fromprologue to epilogue--from Enter the first to the final _Exeuntomnes_--an unparalleled horror--a penance which would have made adungeon darker, and added dullness even to Woodstock!"

  Here he stopped and looked around, then continued his meditations--"So,then, it was here that the gay old Norman secluded his prettymistress--I warrant, without having seen her, that Rosamond Clifford wasnever half so handsome as that lovely Alice Lee. And what a soul thereis in the girl's eye!--with what abandonment of all respects, save thatexpressing the interest of the moment, she poured forth her tide ofenthusiasm! Were I to be long here, in spite of prudence, andhalf-a-dozen very venerable obstacles beside, I should be tempted to tryto reconcile her to the indifferent visage of this same hard-favouredPrince.--Hard favoured?--it is a kind of treason for one who pretends toso much loyalty, to say so of the King's features, and in my minddeserves punishment.--Ah, pretty Mistress Alice! many a Mistress Alicebefore you has made dreadful exclamations on the irregularities ofmankind, and the wickedness of the age, and ended by being glad to lookout for apologies for their own share in them. But then her father--thestout old cavalier--my father's old friend--should such a thing befall,it would break his heart.--Break a pudding's-end--he has more sense. IfI give his grandson a title to quarter the arms of England, what matterif a bar sinister is drawn across them?--Pshaw! far from an abatement,it is a point of addition--the heralds in their next visitation willplace him higher in the roll for it. Then, if he did wince a little atfirst, does not the old traitor deserve it;--first, for his disloyalintention of punching mine anointed body black and blue with his vilefoils--and secondly, his atrocious complot with Will Shakspeare, afellow as much out of date as himself, to read me to de
ath with fiveacts of a historical play, or chronicle, 'being the piteous Life andDeath of Richard the Second?' Odds-fish, my own life is piteous enough,as I think; and my death may match it, for aught I see coming yet. Ah,but then the brother--my friend--my guide--my guard--So far as thislittle proposed intrigue concerns him, such practising would be thoughtnot quite fair. But your bouncing, swaggering, revengeful brothers existonly on the theatre. Your dire revenge, with which a brother persecuteda poor fellow who had seduced his sister, or been seduced by her, as thecase might be, as relentlessly as if he had trodden on his toes withoutmaking an apology, is entirely out of fashion, since Dorset killed theLord Bruce many a long year since. Pshaw! when a King is the offender,the bravest man sacrifices nothing by pocketing a little wrong which hecannot personally resent. And in France, there is not a noble house,where each individual would not cock his hat an inch higher, if theycould boast of such a left-handed alliance with the Grand Monarque."

  Such were the thoughts which rushed through the mind of Charles, at hisfirst quitting the Lodge of Woodstock, and plunging into the forest thatsurrounded it. His profligate logic, however, was not the result of hisnatural disposition, nor received without scruple by his soundunderstanding. It was a train of reasoning which he had been led toadopt from his too close intimacy with the witty and profligate youth ofquality by whom he had been surrounded. It arose from the evilcommunication with Villiers, Wilmot, Sedley, and others, whose geniuswas destined to corrupt that age, and the Monarch on whom its characterafterwards came so much to depend. Such men, bred amidst the license ofcivil war, and without experiencing that curb which in ordinary timesthe authority of parents and relations imposes upon the headlongpassions of youth, were practised in every species of vice, and couldrecommend it as well by precept as by example, turning into pitilessridicule all those nobler feelings which withhold men from gratifyinglawless passion. The events of the King's life had also favoured hisreception of this Epicurean doctrine. He saw himself, with the highestclaims to sympathy and assistance, coldly treated by the Courts which hevisited, rather as a permitted supplicant, than an exiled Monarch. Hebeheld his own rights and claims treated with scorn and indifference;and, in the same proportion, he was reconciled to the hard-hearted andselfish course of dissipation, which promised him immediate indulgence.If this was obtained at the expense of the happiness of others, shouldhe of all men be scrupulous upon the subject, since he treated othersonly as the world treated him?

  But although the foundations of this unhappy system had been laid, thePrince was not at this early period so fully devoted to it as he wasfound to have become, when a door was unexpectedly opened for hisrestoration. On the contrary, though the train of gay reasoning which wehave above stated, as if it had found vent in uttered language, didcertainly arise in his mind, as that which would have been suggested byhis favourite counsellors on such occasions, he recollected that whatmight be passed over as a peccadillo in France or the Netherlands, orturned into a diverting novel or pasquinade by the wits of his ownwandering Court, was likely to have the aspect of horrid ingratitude andinfamous treachery among the English gentry, and would inflict a deep,perhaps an incurable wound upon his interests, among the more aged andrespectable part of his adherents. Then it occurred to him--for his owninterest did not escape him, even in this mode of considering thesubject--that he was in the power of the Lees, father and son, who werealways understood to be at least sufficiently punctilious on the scoreof honour; and if they should suspect such an affront as his imaginationhad conceived, they could be at no loss to find means of the most amplerevenge, either by their own hands, or by those of the ruling faction.

  "The risk of re-opening the fatal window at Whitehall, and renewing thetragedy of the Man in the Mask, were a worse penalty," was his finalreflection, "than the old stool of the Scottish penance; and prettythough Alice Lee is, I cannot afford to intrigue at such a hazard. So,farewell, pretty maiden! unless, as sometimes has happened, thou hast ahumour to throw thyself at thy King's feet, and then I am toomagnanimous to refuse thee my protection. Yet, when I think of the paleclay-cold figure of the old man, as he lay last night extended beforeme, and imagine the fury of Albert Lee raging with impatience, his handon a sword which only his loyalty prevents him from plunging into hissovereign's heart--nay, the picture is too horrible! Charles must forever change his name to Joseph, even if he were strongly tempted; whichmay Fortune in mercy prohibit!"

  To speak the truth of a prince, more unfortunate in his earlycompanions, and the callousness which he acquired by his juvenileadventures and irregular mode of life, than in his natural disposition,Charles came the more readily to this wise conclusion, because he was byno means subject to those violent and engrossing passions, to gratifywhich the world has been thought well lost. His amours, like many of thepresent day, were rather matters of habit and fashion, than of passionand affection: and, in comparing himself in this respect to hisgrandfather, Henry IV., he did neither his ancestor nor himself perfectjustice. He was, to parody the words of a bard, himself actuated by thestormy passions which an intriguer often only simulates,--

  None of those who loved so kindly, None of those who loved so blindly.

  An amour was with him a matter of amusement, a regular consequence, asit seemed to him, of the ordinary course of things in society. He wasnot at the trouble to practise seductive arts, because he had seldomfound occasion to make use of them; his high rank, and the profligacy ofpart of the female society with which he had mingled, rendering themunnecessary. Added to this, he had, for the same reason, seldom beencrossed by the obstinate interference of relations, or even of husbands,who had generally seemed not unwilling to suffer such matters to taketheir course.

  So that, notwithstanding his total looseness of principle, andsystematic disbelief in the virtue of women, and the honour of men, asconnected with the character of their female relatives, Charles was nota person to have studiously introduced disgrace into a family, where aconquest might have been violently disputed, attained with difficulty,and accompanied with general distress, not to mention the excitation ofall fiercer passions against the author of the scandal.

  But the danger of the King's society consisted in his being much of anunbeliever in the existence of such cases as were likely to beembittered by remorse on the part of the principal victim, or renderedperilous by the violent resentment of her connexions or relatives. Hehad even already found such things treated on the continent as mattersof ordinary occurrence, subject, in all cases where a man of highinfluence was concerned, to an easy arrangement; and he was really,generally speaking, sceptical on the subject of severe virtue in eithersex, and apt to consider it as a veil assumed by prudery in women, andhypocrisy in men, to extort a higher reward for their compliance.

  While we are discussing the character of his disposition to gallantry,the Wanderer was conducted, by the walk he had chosen, through severalwhimsical turns, until at last it brought him under the windows ofVictor Lee's apartment, where he descried Alice watering and arrangingsome flowers placed on the oriel window, which was easily accessible bydaylight, although at night he had found it a dangerous attempt to scaleit. But not Alice only, her father also showed himself near the window,and beckoned him up. The family party seemed now more promising thanbefore, and the fugitive Prince was weary of playing battledore andshuttlecock with his conscience, and much disposed to let matters go aschance should determine.

  He climbed lightly up the broken ascent, and was readily welcomed by theold knight, who held activity in high honour. Alice also seemed glad tosee the lively and interesting young man; and by her presence, and theunaffected mirth with which she enjoyed his sallies, he was animated todisplay those qualities of wit and humour, which nobody possessed in ahigher degree.

  His satire delighted the old gentleman, who laughed till his eyes ranover as he heard the youth, whose claims to his respect he littledreamed of, amusing him with successive imitations of the ScottishPresbyterian clergymen, of the pr
oud and poor Hidalgo of the North, ofthe fierce and over-weening pride and Celtic dialect of the mountainchief, of the slow and more pedantic Lowlander, with all of which hisresidence in Scotland had made him familiar. Alice also laughed, andapplauded, amused herself, and delighted to see that her father was so;and the whole party were in the highest glee, when Albert Lee entered,eager to find Louis Kerneguy, and to lead him away to a private colloquywith Dr. Rochecliffe, whose zeal, assiduity, and wonderful possession ofinformation, had constituted him their master-pilot in those difficulttimes.

  It is unnecessary to introduce the reader to the minute particulars oftheir conference. The information obtained was so far favourable, thatthe enemy seemed to have had no intelligence of the King's route towardsthe south, and remained persuaded that he had made his escape fromBristol, as had been reported, and as had indeed been proposed; but themaster of the vessel prepared for the King's passage had taken thealarm, and sailed without his royal freight. His departure, however, andthe suspicion of the service in which he was engaged, served to make thebelief general, that the King had gone off along with him.

  But though this was cheering, the Doctor had more unpleasant tidingsfrom the sea-coast, alleging great difficulties in securing a vessel, towhich it might be fit to commit a charge so precious; and, above all,requesting his Majesty might on no account venture to approach theshore, until he should receive advice that all the previous arrangementshad been completely settled.

  No one was able to suggest a safer place of residence than that which heat present occupied. Colonel Everard was deemed certainly not personallyunfriendly to the King; and Cromwell, as was supposed, reposed inEverard an unbounded confidence. The interior presented numberlesshiding-places, and secret modes of exit, known to no one but the ancientresidents of the Lodge--nay, far better to Rochecliffe than to any ofthem; as, when Rector at the neighbouring town, his prying dispositionas an antiquary had induced him to make very many researches among theold ruins--the results of which he was believed, in some instances, tohave kept to himself.

  To balance these conveniences, it was no doubt true, that theParliamentary Commissioners were still at no great distance, and wouldbe ready to resume their authority upon the first opportunity. But noone supposed such an opportunity was likely to occur; and all believed,as the influence of Cromwell and the army grew more and morepredominant, that the disappointed Commissioners would attempt nothingin contradiction to his pleasure, but wait with patience anindemnification in some other quarter for their vacated commissions.Report, through the voice of Master Joseph Tomkins, stated, that theyhad determined, in the first place, to retire to Oxford, and were makingpreparations accordingly. This promised still farther to insure thesecurity of Woodstock. It was therefore settled, that the King, underthe character of Louis Kerneguy, should remain an inmate of the Lodge,until a vessel should be procured for his escape, at the port whichmight be esteemed the safest and most convenient.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH.

  The deadliest snakes are those which, twined 'mongst flowers, Blend their bright colouring with the varied blossoms, Their fierce eyes glittering like the spangled dew-drop; In all so like what nature has most harmless, That sportive innocence, which dreads no danger, Is poison'd unawares.

  OLD PLAY.

  Charles (we must now give him his own name) was easily reconciled to thecircumstances which rendered his residence at Woodstock advisable. Nodoubt he would much rather have secured his safety by making animmediate escape out of England; but he had been condemned already tomany uncomfortable lurking-places, and more disagreeable disguises, aswell as to long and difficult journeys, during which, betweenpragmatical officers of justice belonging to the prevailing party, andparties of soldiers whose officers usually took on them to act on theirown warrant, risk of discovery had more than once become very imminent.He was glad, therefore, of comparative repose, and of comparativesafety.

  Then it must be considered, that Charles had been entirely reconciled tothe society at Woodstock since he had become better acquainted with it.He had seen, that, to interest the beautiful Alice, and procure a greatdeal of her company, nothing more was necessary than to submit to thehumours, and cultivate the intimacy, of the old cavalier her father. Afew bouts at fencing, in which Charles took care not to put out his moreperfect skill, and full youthful strength and activity--the endurance ofa few scenes from Shakspeare, which the knight read with more zeal thantaste--a little skill in music, in which the old man had been aproficient--the deference paid to a few old-fashioned opinions, at whichCharles laughed in his sleeve--were all-sufficient to gain for thedisguised Prince an interest in Sir Henry Lee, and to conciliate in anequal degree the good-will of his lovely daughter.

  Never were there two young persons who could be said to commence thisspecies of intimacy with such unequal advantages. Charles was alibertine, who, if he did not in cold blood resolve upon prosecuting hispassion for Alice to a dishonourable conclusion, was at every momentliable to be provoked to attempt the strength of a virtue, in which hewas no believer. Then Alice, on her part, hardly knew even what wasimplied by the word libertine or seducer. Her mother had died early inthe commencement of the Civil War, and she had been bred up chiefly withher brother and cousin; so that she had an unfearing and unsuspiciousfrankness of manner, upon which Charles was not unwilling or unlikely toput a construction favourable to his own views. Even Alice's love forher cousin--the first sensation which awakens the most innocent andsimple mind to feelings of shyness and restraint towards the male sex ingeneral--had failed to excite such an alarm in her bosom. They werenearly related; and Everard, though young, was several years her elder,and had, from her infancy, been an object of her respect as well as ofher affection. When this early and childish intimacy ripened intoyouthful love, confessed and returned, still it differed in some shadesfrom the passion existing between lovers originally strangers to eachother, until their affections have been united in the ordinary course ofcourtship. Their love was fonder, more familiar, more perfectlyconfidential; purer too, perhaps, and more free from starts ofpassionate violence, or apprehensive jealousy.

  The possibility that any one could have attempted to rival Everard inher affection, was a circumstance which never occurred to Alice; andthat this singular Scottish lad, whom she laughed with on account of hishumour, and laughed at for his peculiarities, should be an object ofdanger or of caution, never once entered her imagination. The sort ofintimacy to which she admitted Kerneguy was the same to which she wouldhave received a companion of her own sex, whose manners she did notalways approve, but whose society she found always amusing.

  It was natural that the freedom of Alice Lee's conduct, which arose fromthe most perfect indifference, should pass for something approaching toencouragement in the royal gallant's apprehension, and that anyresolutions he had formed against being tempted to violate thehospitality of Woodstock, should begin to totter, as opportunities fordoing so became more frequent.

  These opportunities were favoured by Albert's departure from Woodstockthe very day after his arrival. It had been agreed, in full council withCharles and Rochecliffe, that he should go to visit his uncle Everard inthe county of Kent, and, by showing himself there, obviate any cause ofsuspicion which might arise from his residence at Woodstock, and removeany pretext for disturbing his father's family on account of theirharbouring one who had been so lately in arms. He had also undertaken,at his own great personal risk, to visit different points on thesea-coast, and ascertain the security of different places for providingshipping for the King's leaving England.

  These circumstances were alike calculated to procure the King's safety,and facilitate his escape. But Alice was thereby deprived of thepresence of her brother, who would have been her most watchful guardian,but who had set down the King's light talk upon a former occasion to thegaiety of his humour, and would have thought he had done his sovereigngreat injustice, had he
seriously suspected him of such a breach ofhospitality as a dishonourable pursuit of Alice would have implied.

  There were, however, two of the household at Woodstock, who appeared notso entirely reconciled with Louis Kerneguy or his purposes. The one wasBevis, who seemed, from their first unfriendly rencontre, to have keptup a pique against their new guest, which no advances on the part ofCharles were able to soften. If the page was by chance left alone withhis young mistress, Bevis chose always to be of the party; came close byAlice's chair, and growled audibly when the gallant drew near her. "Itis a pity," said the disguised Prince, "that your Bevis is not abull-dog, that we might dub him a roundhead at once--He is too handsome,too noble, too aristocratic, to nourish those inhospitable prejudicesagainst a poor houseless cavalier. I am convinced the spirit of Pym orHampden has transmigrated into the rogue and continues to demonstratehis hatred against royalty and all its adherents."

  Alice would then reply, that Bevis was loyal in word and deed, and onlypartook her father's prejudices against the Scots, which, she could notbut acknowledge, were tolerably strong.

  "Nay, then," said the supposed Louis, "I must find some other reason,for I cannot allow Sir Bevis's resentment to rest upon nationalantipathy. So we will suppose that some gallant cavalier, who wended tothe wars and never returned, has adopted this shape to look back uponthe haunts he left so unwillingly, and is jealous at seeing even poorLouis Kerneguy drawing near to the lady of his lost affections."--Heapproached her chair as he spoke, and Bevis gave one of his deep growls.

  "In that case, you had best keep your distance," said Alice, laughing,"for the bite of a dog, possessed by the ghost of a jealous lover,cannot be very safe." And the King carried on the dialogue in the samestrain--which, while it led Alice to apprehend nothing more serious thanthe apish gallantry of a fantastic boy, certainly induced the supposedLouis Kerneguy to think that he had made one of those conquests whichoften and easily fall to the share of sovereigns. Notwithstanding theacuteness of his apprehension, he was not sufficiently aware that theRoyal Road to female favour is only open to monarchs when they travel ingrand costume, and that when they woo incognito, their path of courtshipis liable to the same windings and obstacles which obstruct the courseof private individuals.

  There was, besides Bevis, another member of the family, who kept alook-out upon Louis Kerneguy, and with no friendly eye. PhoebeMayflower, though her experience extended not beyond the sphere of thevillage, yet knew the world much better than her mistress, and besidesshe was five years older. More knowing, she was more suspicious. Shethought that odd-looking Scotch boy made more up to her young mistressthan was proper for his condition of life; and, moreover, that Alicegave him a little more encouragement than Parthenia would have affordedto any such Jack-a-dandy, in the absence of Argalus--for the volumetreating of the loves of these celebrated Arcadians was then thefavourite study of swains and damsels throughout merry England.Entertaining such suspicions, Phoebe was at a loss how to conductherself on the occasion, and yet resolved she would not see theslightest chance of the course of Colonel Everard's true love beingobstructed, without attempting a remedy. She had a peculiar favour forMarkham herself; and, moreover, he was, according to her phrase, ashandsome and personable a young man as was in Oxfordshire; and thisScottish scarecrow was no more to be compared to him than chalk was tocheese. And yet she allowed that Master Girnigy had a wonderfullywell-oiled tongue, and that such gallants were not to be despised. Whatwas to be done?--she had no facts to offer, only vague suspicion; andwas afraid to speak to her mistress, whose kindness, great as it was,did not, nevertheless, encourage familiarity.

  She sounded Joceline; but he was, she knew not why, so deeply interestedabout this unlucky lad, and held his importance so high, that she couldmake no impression on him. To speak to the old knight would have been toraise a general tempest. The worthy chaplain, who was, at Woodstock,grand referee on all disputed matters, would have been the damsel's mostnatural resource, for he was peaceful as well as moral by profession,and politic by practice. But it happened he had given Phoebeunintentional offence by speaking of her under the classical epithet of_Rustica Fidele_, the which epithet, as she understood it not, she heldherself bound to resent as contumelious, and declaring she was notfonder of a _fiddle_ than other folk, had ever since shunned allintercourse with Dr. Rochecliffe which she could easily avoid.

  Master Tomkins was always coming and going about the house under variouspretexts; but he was a roundhead, and she was too true to the cavaliersto introduce any of the enemy as parties to their internal discords;besides, he had talked to Phoebe herself in a manner which induced herto decline everything in the shape of familiarity with him. Lastly,Cavaliero Wildrake might have been consulted; but Phoebe had her ownreasons for saying, as she did with some emphasis, that CavalieroWildrake was an impudent London rake. At length she resolved tocommunicate her suspicions to the party having most interest inverifying or confuting them.

  "I'll let Master Markham Everard know, that there is a wasp buzzingabout his honey-comb," said Phoebe; "and, moreover, that I know thatthis young Scotch Scapegrace shifted himself out of a woman's into aman's dress at Goody Green's, and gave Goody Green's Dolly a gold-pieceto say nothing about it; and no more she did to any one but me, and sheknows best herself whether she gave change for the gold or not--butMaster Louis is a saucy jackanapes, and like enough to ask it."

  Three or four days elapsed while matters continued in thiscondition--the disguised Prince sometimes thinking on the intrigue whichFortune seemed to have thrown in his way for his amusement, and takingadvantage of such opportunities as occurred to increase his intimacywith Alice Lee; but much oftener harassing Dr. Rochecliffe withquestions about the possibility of escape, which the good man findinghimself unable to answer, secured his leisure against royal importunity,by retreating into the various unexplored recesses of the Lodge, knownperhaps only to himself, who had been for nearly a score of yearsemployed in writing the Wonders of Woodstock.

  It chanced on the fourth day, that some trifling circumstance had calledthe knight abroad; and he had left the young Scotsman, now familiar inthe family, along with Alice, in the parlour of Victor Lee. Thussituated, he thought the time not unpropitious for entering upon astrain of gallantry, of a kind which might be called experimental, suchas is practised by the Croats in skirmishing, when they keep bridle inhand, ready to attack the enemy, or canter off without coming to closequarters, as circumstances may recommend. After using for nearly tenminutes a sort of metaphysical jargon, which might, according to Alice'spleasure, have been interpreted either into gallantry, or the languageof serious pretension, and when he supposed her engaged in fathoming hismeaning, he had the mortification to find, by a single and briefquestion, that he had been totally unattended to, and that Alice wasthinking on anything at the moment rather than the sense of what he hadbeen saying. She asked him if he could tell what it was o'clock, andthis with an air of real curiosity concerning the lapse of time, whichput coquetry wholly out of the question.

  "I will go look at the sundial, Mistress Alice," said the gallant,rising and colouring, through a sense of the contempt with which hethought himself treated.

  "You will do me a pleasure, Master Kerneguy," said Alice, without theleast consciousness of the indignation she had excited.

  Master Louis Kerneguy left the room accordingly, not, however, toprocure the information required, but to vent his anger andmortification, and to swear, with more serious purpose than he had daredto do before, that Alice should rue her insolence. Good-natured as hewas, he was still a prince, unaccustomed to contradiction, far less tocontempt, and his self pride felt, for the moment, wounded to the quick.With a hasty step he plunged into the Chase, only remembering his ownsafety so far as to choose the deeper and sequestered avenues, where,walking on with the speedy and active step, which his recovery fromfatigue now permitted him to exercise according to his wont, he solacedhis angry purposes, by devising schemes of revenge on the insolentcountr
y coquette, from which no consideration of hospitality was infuture to have weight enough to save her.

  The irritated gallant passed

  "The dial-stone, aged and green,"

  without deigning to ask it a single question; nor could it havesatisfied his curiosity if he had, for no sun happened to shine at themoment. He then hastened forward, muffling himself in his cloak, andassuming a stooping and slouching gait, which diminished his apparentheight. He was soon involved in the deep and dim alleys of the wood,into which he had insensibly plunged himself, and was traversing it at agreat rate, without having any distinct idea in what direction he wasgoing, when suddenly his course was arrested, first by a loud hello, andthen by a summons to stand, accompanied by what seemed still morestartling and extraordinary, the touch of a cane upon his shoulder,imposed in a good-humoured but somewhat imperious manner.

  There were few symptoms of recognition which would have been welcome atthis moment; but the appearance of the person who had thus arrested hiscourse, was least of all that he could have anticipated as timely oragreeable. When he turned, on receiving the signal, he beheld himselfclose to a young man, nearly six feet in height, well made in joint andlimb, but the gravity of whose apparel, although handsome andgentlemanlike, and a sort of precision in his habit, from the cleannessand stiffness of his band to the unsullied purity of his Spanish-leathershoes, bespoke a love of order which was foreign to the impoverished andvanquished cavaliers, and proper to the habits of those of thevictorious party, who could afford to dress themselves handsomely; andwhose rule--that is, such as regarded the higher and more respectableclasses--enjoined decency and sobriety of garb and deportment. There wasyet another weight against the Prince in the scale, and one still morecharacteristic of the inequality in the comparison, under which heseemed to labour. There was strength in the muscular form of thestranger who had brought him to this involuntary parley, authority anddetermination in his brow, a long rapier on the left, and a poniard ordagger on the right side of his belt, and a pair of pistols stuck intoit, which would have been sufficient to give the unknown the advantage,(Louis Kerneguy having no weapon but his sword,) even had his personalstrength approached nearer than it did to that of the person by whom hewas thus suddenly stopped.

  Bitterly regretting the thoughtless fit of passion that brought him intohis present situation, but especially the want of the pistols he hadleft behind, and which do so much to place bodily strength and weaknessupon an equal footing, Charles yet availed himself of the courage andpresence of mind, in which few of his unfortunate family had forcenturies been deficient. He stood firm and without motion, his cloakstill wrapped round the lower part of his face, to give time forexplanation, in case he was mistaken for some other person.

  This coolness produced its effect; for the other party said,--with doubtand surprise on his part, "Joceline Joliffe, is it not?--if I know notJoceline Joliffe, I should at least know my own cloak."

  "I am not Joceline Joliffe, as you may see, sir," said Kerneguy, calmly,drawing himself erect to show the difference of size, and dropping thecloak from his face and person.

  "Indeed!" replied the stranger, in surprise; "then, Sir Unknown, I haveto express my regret at having used my cane in intimating that I wishedyou to stop. From that dress, which I certainly recognise for my own, Iconcluded you must be Joceline, in whose custody I had left my habit atthe Lodge."

  "If it had been Joceline, sir," replied the supposed Kerneguy, withperfect composure, "methinks you should not have struck so hard." Theother party was obviously confused by the steady calmness with which hewas encountered. The sense of politeness dictated, in the first place,an apology for a mistake, when he thought he had been tolerably certainof the person. Master Kerneguy was not in a situation to be punctilious;he bowed gravely, as indicating his acceptance of the excuse offered,then turned, and walked, as he conceived, towards the Lodge; though hehad traversed the woods which were cut with various alleys in differentdirections, too hastily to be certain of the real course which he wishedto pursue.

  He was much embarrassed to find that this did not get him rid of thecompanion whom he had thus involuntarily acquired. Walked he slow,walked he fast, his friend in the genteel but puritanic habit, strong inperson, and well armed, as we have described him, seemed determined tokeep him company, and, without attempting to join, or enter intoconversation, never suffered him to outstrip his surveillance for morethan two or three yards. The Wanderer mended his pace; but, although hewas then, in his youth, as afterwards in his riper age, one of the bestwalkers in Britain, the stranger, without advancing his pace to a run,kept fully equal to him, and his persecution became so close andconstant, and inevitable, that the pride and fear of Charles were bothalarmed, and he began to think that, whatever the danger might be of asingle-handed rencontre, he would nevertheless have a better bargain ofthis tall satellite if they settled the debate betwixt them in theforest, than if they drew near any place of habitation, where the man inauthority was likely to find friends and concurrents.

  Betwixt anxiety, therefore, vexation, and anger, Charles faced suddenlyround on his pursuer, as they reached a small narrow glade, which led tothe little meadow over which presided the King's Oak, the ragged andscathed branches and gigantic trunk of which formed a vista to thelittle wild avenue.

  "Sir," said he to his pursuer, "you have already been guilty of onepiece of impertinence towards me. You have apologised; and knowing noreason why you should distinguish me as an object of incivility, I haveaccepted your excuse without scruple. Is there any thing remains to besettled betwixt us, which causes you to follow me in this manner? If so,I shall be glad to make it a subject of explanation or satisfaction, asthe case may admit of. I think you can owe me no malice; for I never sawyou before to my knowledge. If you can give any good reason for askingit, I am willing to render you personal satisfaction. If your purpose ismerely impertinent curiosity, I let you know that I will not suffermyself to be dogged in my private walks by any one."

  "When I recognise my own cloak on another man's shoulders," replied thestranger, dryly, "methinks I have a natural right to follow and see whatbecomes of it; for know, sir, though I have been mistaken as to thewearer, yet I am confident I had as good a right to stretch my caneacross the cloak you are muffled in, as ever had any one to brush hisown garments. If, therefore, we are to be friends, I must ask, forinstance, how you came by that cloak, and where you are going with it? Ishall otherwise make bold to stop you, as one who has sufficientcommission to do so."

  "Oh, unhappy cloak," thought the Wanderer, "ay, and thrice unhappy theidle fancy that sent me here with it wrapped around my nose, to pickquarrels and attract observation, when quiet and secrecy were peculiarlyessential to my safety!"

  "If you will allow me to guess, sir," continued the stranger, who was noother than Markham Everard, "I will convince you that you are betterknown than you think for."

  "Now, Heaven forbid!" prayed the party addressed, in silence, but withas much devotion as ever he applied to a prayer in his life. Yet even inthis moment of extreme urgency, his courage and composure did not fail;and he recollected it was of the utmost importance not to seem startled,and to answer so as, if possible, to lead the dangerous companion withwhom he had met, to confess the extent of his actual knowledge orsuspicions concerning him.

  "If you know me, sir," he said, "and are a gentleman, as your appearancepromises, you cannot be at a loss to discover to what accident you mustattribute my wearing these clothes, which you say are yours." "Oh, sir,"replied Colonel Everard, his wrath in no sort turned away by themildness of the stranger's answer--"we have learned our Ovid'sMetamorphoses, and we know for what purposes young men of quality travelin disguise--we know that even female attire is resorted to on certainoccasions--We have heard of Vertumnus and Pomona."

  The Monarch, as he weighed these words, again uttered a devout prayer,that this ill-looking affair might have no deeper root than the jealousyof some admirer of Alice Lee, promising to hims
elf, that, devotee as hewas to the fair sex, he would make no scruple of renouncing the fairestof Eve's daughters in order to get out of the present dilemma.

  "Sir," he said, "you seem to be a gentleman. I have no objection to tellyou, as such, that I also am of that class."

  "Or somewhat higher, perhaps?" said Everard.

  "A gentleman," replied Charles, "is a term which comprehends all ranksentitled to armorial bearings--A duke, a lord, a prince, is no more thana gentleman; and if in misfortune as I am, he may be glad if thatgeneral term of courtesy is allowed him."

  "Sir," replied Everard, "I have no purpose to entrap you to anyacknowledgment fatal to your own safety,--nor do I hold it my businessto be active in the arrest of private individuals, whose perverted senseof national duty may have led them into errors, rather to be pitied thanpunished by candid men. But if those who have brought civil war anddisturbance into their native country, proceed to carry dishonour anddisgrace into the bosom of families--if they attempt to carry on theirprivate debaucheries to the injury of the hospitable roofs which affordthem refuge from the consequences of their public crimes, do you think,my lord, that we shall bear it with patience?"

  "If it is your purpose to quarrel with me," said the Prince, "speak itout at once like a gentleman. You have the advantage, no doubt, of arms;but it is not that odds which will induce me to fly from a single man.If, on the other hand, you are disposed to hear reason, I tell you incalm words, that I neither suspect the offence to which you allude, norcomprehend why you give me the title of my Lord."

  "You deny, then, being the Lord Wilmot?" said Everard.

  "I may do so most safely," said the Prince.

  "Perhaps you rather style yourself Earl of Rochester? We heard that theissuing of some such patent by the King of Scots was a step which yourambition proposed."

  "Neither lord nor earl am I, as sure as I have a Christian soul to besaved. My name is"--

  "Do not degrade yourself by unnecessary falsehood, my lord; and that toa single man, who, I promise you, will not invoke public justice toassist his own good sword should he see cause to use it. Can you look atthat ring, and deny that you are Lord Wilmot?"

  He handed to the disguised Prince a ring which he took from his purse,and his opponent instantly knew it for the same he had dropped intoAlice's pitcher at the fountain, obeying only, through imprudently, thegallantry of the moment, in giving a pretty gem to a handsome girl, whomhe had accidentally frightened.

  "I know the ring," he said; "it has been in my possession. How it shouldprove me to be Lord Wilmot, I cannot conceive; and beg to say, it bearsfalse witness against me."

  "You shall see the evidence," answered Everard; and, resuming the ring,he pressed a spring ingeniously contrived in the collet of the setting,on which the stone flew back, and showed within it the cipher of LordWilmot beautifully engraved in miniature, with a coronet.--"What say younow, sir?"

  "That probabilities are no proofs," said the Prince; "there is nothinghere save what may be easily accounted for. I am the son of a Scottishnobleman, who was mortally wounded and made prisoner at Worcester fight.When he took leave, and bid me fly, he gave me the few valuables hepossessed, and that among others. I have heard him talk of havingchanged rings with Lord Wilmot, on some occasion in Scotland, but Inever knew the trick of the gem which you have shown me."

  In this it may be necessary to say, Charles spoke very truly; nor wouldhe have parted with it in the way he did, had he suspected it would beeasily recognised. He proceeded after a minute's pause:--"Once more,sir--I have told you much that concerns my safety--if you are generous,you will let me pass, and I may do you on some future day as goodservice. If you mean to arrest me, you must do so here, and at your ownperil, for I will neither walk farther your way, nor permit you to dogme on mine. If you let me pass, I will thank you: if not, take to yourweapon."

  "Young gentleman," said Colonel Everard, "whether you be actually thegay young nobleman for whom I took you, you have made me uncertain; but,intimate as you say your family has been with him, I have little doubtthat you are proficient in the school of debauchery, of which Wilmot andVilliers are professors, and their hopeful Master a graduated student.Your conduct at Woodstock, where you have rewarded the hospitality ofthe family by meditating the most deadly wound to their honour, hasproved you too apt a scholar in such an academy. I intended only to warnyou on this subject--it will be your own fault if I add chastisement toadmonition."

  "Warn me, sir!" said the Prince indignantly, "and chastisement! This ispresuming more on my patience than is consistent with your own safety--Draw, sir."--So saying, he laid his hand on his sword.

  "My religion," said Everard, "forbids me to be rash in sheddingblood--Go home, sir--be wise--consult the dictates of honour as well asprudence. Respect the honour of the House of Lee, and know there is onenearly allied to it, by whom your motions will be called to severeaccount."

  "Aha!" said the Prince, with a bitter laugh, "I see the whole matternow--we have our roundheaded Colonel, our puritan cousin before us--theman of texts and morals, whom Alice Lee laughs at so heartily. If yourreligion, sir, prevents you from giving satisfaction, it should preventyou from offering insult to a person of honour."

  The passions of both were now fully up--they drew mutually, and began tofight, the Colonel relinquishing the advantage he could have obtained bythe use of his fire-arms. A thrust of the arm, or a slip of the foot,might, at the moment, have changed the destinies of Britain, when thearrival of a third party broke off the combat.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH.

  Stay--for the King has thrown his warder down. RICHARD II.

  The combatants, whom we left engaged at the end of the last chapter,made mutual passes at each other with apparently equal skill andcourage. Charles had been too often in action, and too long a party aswell as a victim to civil war, to find any thing new or surprising inbeing obliged to defend himself with his own hands; and Everard had beendistinguished, as well for his personal bravery, as for the otherproperties of a commander. But the arrival of a third party preventedthe tragic conclusion of a combat, in which the success of either partymust have given him much cause for regretting his victory.

  It was the old knight himself, who arrived, mounted upon a forest pony,for the war and sequestration had left him no steed of a more dignifieddescription. He thrust himself between the combatants, and commandedthem on their lives to hold. So soon as a glance from one to the otherhad ascertained to him whom he had to deal with, he demanded, "Whetherthe devils of Woodstock, whom folk talked about, had got possession ofthem both, that they were tilting at each other within the verge of theroyal liberties? Let me tell both of you," he said, "that while oldHenry Lee is at Woodstock, the immunities of the Park shall bemaintained as much as if the King were still on the throne. None shallfight duellos here, excepting the stags in their season. Put up, both ofyou, or I shall lug out as thirdsman, and prove perhaps the worst devilof the three!--As Will says--

  'I'll so maul you and your toasting-irons, That you shall think the devil has come from hell.'"

  The combatants desisted from their encounter, but stood looking at eachother sullenly, as men do in such a situation, each unwilling to seem todesire peace more than the other, and averse therefore to be the firstto sheathe his sword.

  "Return your weapons, gentlemen, upon the spot," said the knight yetmore peremptorily, "one and both of you, or you will have something todo with me, I promise you. You may be thankful times are changed. I haveknown them such, that your insolence might have cost each of you yourright hand, if not redeemed with a round sum of money. Nephew, if you donot mean to alienate me for ever, I command you to put up.--MasterKerneguy, you are my guest. I request of you not to do me the insult ofremaining with your sword drawn, where it is my duty to see peaceobserved."

  "I obey you, Sir Henry," said the King, sheathing his rapier--"I hardlyindeed know wherefore I was assaulte
d by this gentleman. I assure you,none respects the King's person or privileges more than myself--thoughthe devotion is somewhat out of fashion."

  "We may find a place to meet, sir," replied Everard, "where neither theroyal person nor privileges can be offended."

  "Faith, very hardly, sir," said Charles, unable to suppress the risingjest--"I mean, the King has so few followers, that the loss of the leastof them might be some small damage to him; but, risking all that, I willmeet you wherever there is fair field for a poor cavalier to get off insafety, if he has the luck in fight."

  Sir Henry Lee's first idea had been fixed upon the insult offered to theroyal demesne; he now began to turn them towards the safety of hiskinsman, and of the young royalist, as he deemed him. "Gentlemen," hesaid, "I must insist on this business being put to a final end. NephewMarkham, is this your return for my condescension in coming back toWoodstock on your warrant, that you should take an opportunity to cutthe throat of my guest?"

  "If you knew his purpose as well as I do,"--said Markham, and thenpaused, conscious that he might only incense his uncle withoutconvincing him, as any thing he might say of Kerneguy's addresses toAlice was likely to be imputed to his own jealous suspicions--he lookedon the ground, therefore, and was silent.

  "And you, Master Kerneguy," said Sir Henry, "can you give me any reasonwhy you seek to take the life of this young man, in whom, thoughunhappily forgetful of his loyalty and duty, I must yet take someinterest, as my nephew by affinity?"

  "I was not aware the gentleman enjoyed that honour, which certainlywould have protected him from my sword," answered Kerneguy. "But thequarrel is his; nor can I tell any reason why he fixed it upon me,unless it were the difference of our political opinions."

  "You know the contrary," said Everard; "you know that I told you youwere safe from me as a fugitive royalist--and your last words showed youwere at no loss to guess my connexion with Sir Henry. That, indeed, isof little consequence. I should debase myself did I use the relationshipas a means of protection from you, or any one."

  As they thus disputed, neither choosing to approach the real cause ofquarrel, Sir Henry looked from one to the other, with a peace-makingconscience, exclaiming--

  "'Why, what an intricate impeach is this? I think you both have drunk of Circe's cup.'

  "Come, my young masters, allow an old man to mediate between you. I amnot shortsighted in such matters--The mother of mischief is no biggerthan a gnat's wing; and I have known fifty instances in my own day,when, as Will says--

  'Gallants have been confronted hardily, In single opposition, hand to hand.'

  in which, after the field was fought, no one could remember the cause ofquarrel.--Tush! a small thing will do it--the taking of the wall--or thegentle rub of the shoulder in passing each other, or a hasty word, or amisconceived gesture--Come, forget your cause of quarrel, be what itwill--you have had your breathing, and though you put up your rapiersunbloodied, that was no default of yours, but by command of your elder,and one who had right to use authority. In Malta, where the duello ispunctiliously well understood, the persons engaged in a single combatare bound to halt on the command of a knight, or priest, or lady, andthe quarrel so interrupted is held as honourably terminated, and may notbe revived.--Nephew, it is, I think, impossible that you can nourishspleen against this young gentleman for having fought for his king. Hearmy honest proposal, Markham--You know I bear no malice, though I havesome reason to be offended with you--Give the young man your hand infriendship, and we will back to the Lodge, all three together, and drinka cup of sack in token of reconciliation."

  Markham Everard found himself unable to resist this approach towardskindness on his uncle's part. He suspected, indeed, what was partly thetruth, that it was not entirely from reviving good-will, but also, thathis uncle thought, by such attention, to secure his neutrality at least,if not his assistance, for the safety of the fugitive royalist. He wassensible that he was placed in an awkward predicament; and that he mightincur the suspicions of his own party, for holding intercourse even witha near relation, who harboured such guests. But, on the other hand, hethought his services to the Commonwealth had been of sufficientimportance to outweigh whatever envy might urge on that topic. Indeed,although the Civil War had divided families much, and in many variousways, yet when it seemed ended by the triumph of the republicans, therage of political hatred began to relent, and the ancient ties ofkindred and friendship regained at least a part of their formerinfluence. Many reunions were formed; and those who, like Everard,adhered to the conquering party, often exerted themselves for theprotection of their deserted relatives.

  As these things rushed through his mind, accompanied with the prospectof a renewed intercourse with Alice Lee, by means of which he might beat hand to protect her against every chance, either of injury or insult,he held out his hand to the supposed Scottish page, saying at the sametime, "That, for his part, he was very ready to forget the cause ofquarrel, or rather, to consider it as arising out of a misapprehension,and to offer Master Kerneguy such friendship as might exist betweenhonourable men, who had embraced different sides in politics."

  Unable to overcome the feeling of personal dignity, which prudencerecommended him to forget, Louis Kerneguy in return bowed low, butwithout accepting Everard's proffered hand.

  "He had no occasion," he said, "to make any exertions to forget thecause of quarrel, for he had never been able to comprehend it; but as hehad not shunned the gentleman's resentment, so he was now willing toembrace and return any degree of his favour, with which he might bepleased to honour him."

  Everard withdrew his hand with a smile, and bowed in return to thesalutation of the page, whose stiff reception of his advances he imputedto the proud pettish disposition of a Scotch boy, trained up inextravagant ideas of family consequence and personal importance, whichhis acquaintance with the world had not yet been sufficient to dispel.

  Sir Henry Lee, delighted with the termination of the quarrel, which hesupposed to be in deep deference to his own authority, and notdispleased with the opportunity of renewing some acquaintance with hisnephew, who had, notwithstanding his political demerits, a warmerinterest in his affections than he was, perhaps, himself aware of, said,in a tone of consolation, "Never be mortified, young gentlemen. Iprotest it went to my heart to part you, when I saw you stretchingyourselves so handsomely, and in fair love of honour, without anymalicious or blood-thirsty thoughts. I promise you, had it not been formy duty as Ranger here, and sworn to the office, I would rather havebeen your umpire than your hinderance.--But a finished quarrel is aforgotten quarrel; and your tilting should have no further consequenceexcepting the appetite it may have given you."

  So saying, he urged forward his pony, and moved in triumph towards theLodge by the nearest alley. His feet almost touching the ground, theball of his toe just resting in the stirrup,--the forepart of the thighbrought round to the saddle,--the heels turned outwards, and sunk asmuch as possible,--his body precisely erect,--the reins properly andsystematically divided in his left hand, his right holding a riding-roddiagonally pointed towards the horse's left ear,--he seemed a championof the manege, fit to have reined Bucephalus himself. His youthfulcompanions, who attended on either hand like equerries, could scarcelysuppress a smile at the completely adjusted and systematic posture ofthe rider, contrasted with the wild and diminutive appearance of thepony, with its shaggy coat, and long tail and mane, and its keen eyessparkling like red coals from amongst the mass of hair which fell overits small countenance. If the reader has the Duke of Newcastle's book onhorsemanship, (_splendida moles!_) he may have some idea of the figureof the good knight, if he can conceive such a figure as one of thecavaliers there represented, seated, in all the graces of his art, on aWelsh or Exmoor pony, in its native savage state, without grooming ordiscipline of any kind; the ridicule being greatly enhanced by thedisproportion of size betwixt the animal and its rider.

  Perhaps the knight saw their wonder, for the first words he said afterthey left
the ground were, "Pixie, though small, is mettlesome,gentlemen," (here he contrived that Pixie should himself corroborate theassertion, by executing a gambade,)--"he is diminutive, but full ofspirit;--indeed, save that I am somewhat too large for an elfinhorseman," (the knight was upwards of six feet high,) "I should remindmyself, when I mount him, of the Fairy King, as described by MikeDrayton:--

  Himself he on an ear-wig set, Yet scarce upon his back could get, So oft and high he did curvet, Ere he himself did settle. He made him stop, and turn, and bound, To gallop, and to trot the round. He scarce could stand on any ground, He was so full of mettle.'"

  "My old friend, Pixie," said Everard, stroking the pony's neck, "I amglad that he has survived all these bustling days--Pixie must be abovetwenty years old, Sir Henry?"

  "Above twenty years, certainly. Yes, nephew Markham, war is a whirlwindin a plantation, which only spares what is least worth leaving. OldPixie and his old master have survived many a tall fellow, and many agreat horse--neither of them good for much themselves. Yet, as Willsays, an old man can do somewhat. So Pixie and I still survive."

  So saying, he again contrived that Pixie should show some remnants ofactivity.

  "Still survive?" said the young Scot, completing the sentence which thegood knight had left unfinished--"ay, still survive,

  'To witch the world with noble horsemanship.'"

  Everard coloured, for he felt the irony; but not so his uncle, whosesimple vanity never permitted him to doubt the sincerity of thecompliment.

  "Are you advised of that?" he said. "In King James's time, indeed, Ihave appeared in the tilt-yard, and there you might have said--

  'You saw young Harry with his beaver up.'

  "As to seeing _old_ Harry, why"--Here the knight paused, and looked as abashful man in labour of a pun--"As to old Harry--why, you might as wellsee the _devil_. You take me, Master Kerneguy--the devil, you know, ismy namesake--ha--ha--ha!--Cousin Everard, I hope your precision is notstartled by an innocent jest?"

  He was so delighted with the applause of both his companions, that herecited the whole of the celebrated passage referred to, and concludedwith defying the present age, bundle all its wits, Donne, Cowley,Waller, and the rest of them together, to produce a poet of a tenth partof the genius of old Will.

  "Why, we are said to have one of his descendants among us--Sir WilliamD'Avenant," said Louis Kerneguy; "and many think him as clever afellow."

  "What!" exclaimed Sir Henry--"Will D'Avenant, whom I knew in the North,an officer under Newcastle, when the Marquis lay before Hull?--why, hewas an honest cavalier, and wrote good doggrel enough; but how came hea-kin to Will Shakspeare, I trow?"

  "Why," replied the young Scot, "by the surer side of the house, andafter the old fashion, if D'Avenant speaks truth. It seems that hismother was a good-looking, laughing, buxom mistress of an inn betweenStratford and London, at which Will Shakspeare often quartered as hewent down to his native town; and that out of friendship and gossipred,as we say in Scotland, Will Shakspeare became godfather to WillD'Avenant; and not contented with this spiritual affinity, the youngerWill is for establishing some claim to a natural one, alleging that hismother was a great admirer of wit, and there were no bounds to hercomplaisance for men of genius."

  "Out upon the hound!" said Colonel Everard; "would he purchase thereputation of descending from poet, or from prince, at the expense ofhis mother's good fame?--his nose ought to be slit."

  "That would be difficult," answered the disguised Prince, recollectingthe peculiarity of the bard's countenance. [Footnote: D'Avenant actuallywanted the nose, the foundation of many a jest of the day.]

  "Will D'Avenant the son of Will Shakspeare?" said the knight, who hadnot yet recovered his surprise at the enormity of the pretension; "why,it reminds me of a verse in the Puppet-show of Phaeton, where the herocomplains to his mother--

  'Besides, by all the village boys I am sham'd, You the Sun's son, you rascal, you be d--d!'

  "I never heard such unblushing assurance in my life!--Will D'Avenant theson of the brightest and best poet that ever was, is, or will be?--But Icrave your pardon, nephew--You, I believe, love no stage plays."

  "Nay, I am not altogether so precise as you would make me, uncle. I haveloved them perhaps too well in my time, and now I condemn them notaltogether, or in gross, though I approve not their excesses andextravagances.--I cannot, even in Shakspeare, but see many things bothscandalous to decency and prejudicial to good manners--many things whichtend to ridicule virtue, or to recommend vice,--at least to mitigate thehideousness of its features. I cannot think these fine poems are anuseful study, and especially for the youth of either sex, in whichbloodshed is pointed out as the chief occupation of the men, andintrigue as the sole employment of the women."

  In making these observations, Everard was simple enough to think that hewas only giving his uncle an opportunity of defending a favouriteopinion, without offending him by a contradiction, which was so limitedand mitigated. But here, as on other occasions, he forgot how obstinatehis uncle was in his views, whether of religion, policy, or taste, andthat it would be as easy to convert him to the Presbyterian form ofgovernment, or engage him to take the abjuration oath, as to shake hisbelief in Shakspeare. There was another peculiarity in the good knight'smode of arguing, which Everard, being himself of a plain and downrightcharacter, and one whose religious tenets were in some degreeunfavourable to the suppressions and simulations often used in society,could never perfectly understand. Sir Henry, sensible of his naturalheat of temper, was wont scrupulously to guard against it, and would forsome time, when in fact much offended, conduct a debate with all theexternal appearance of composure, till the violence of his feelingswould rise so high as to overcome and bear away the artificial barriersopposed to it, and rush down upon the adversary with accumulating wrath.It thus frequently happened, that, like a wily old general, he retreatedin the face of his disputant in good order and by degrees, with somoderate a degree of resistance, as to draw on his antagonist's pursuitto the spot, where, at length, making a sudden and unexpected attack,with horse, foot, and artillery at once, he seldom failed to confoundthe enemy, though he might not overthrow him.

  It was on this principle, therefore, that, hearing Everard's lastobservation, he disguised his angry feelings, and answered, with a tonewhere politeness was called in to keep guard upon passion, "Thatundoubtedly the Presbyterian gentry had given, through the whole ofthese unhappy times, such proofs of an humble, unaspiring, andunambitious desire of the public good, as entitled them to generalcredit for the sincerity of those very strong scruples which theyentertained against works, in which the noblest, sentiments of religionand virtue,--sentiments which might convert hardened sinners, and beplaced with propriety in the mouths of dying saints and martyrs,--happened, from the rudeness and coarse taste of the times, to be mixedwith some broad jests, and similar matter, which lay not much in theway, excepting of those who painfully sought such stuff out, that theymight use it in vilifying what was in itself deserving of the highestapplause. But what he wished especially to know from his nephew was,whether any of those gifted men, who had expelled the learned scholarsand deep divines of the Church of England from the pulpit, and nowflourished in their stead, received any inspiration from the muses, (ifhe might use so profane a term without offence to Colonel Everard,) orwhether they were not as sottishly and brutally averse from elegantletters, as they were from humanity and common sense?"

  Colonel Everard might have guessed, by the ironical tone in which thisspeech was delivered, what storm was mustering within his uncle'sbosom--nay, he might have conjectured the state of the old knight'sfeelings from his emphasis on the word Colonel, by which epithet, asthat which most connected his nephew with the party he hated, he neverdistinguished Everard, unless when his wrath was rising; while, on thecontrary, when disposed to be on good terms with him, he usually calledhim Kinsman, or Nephew Markham. Indeed, it was under a partial sensethat this was the case, and in th
e hope to see his cousin Alice, thatthe Colonel forbore making any answer to the harangue of his uncle,which had concluded just as the old knight had alighted at the door ofthe Lodge, and was entering the hall, followed by his two attendants.

  Phoebe at the same time made her appearance in the hall, and receivedorders to bring some "beverage" for the gentlemen. The Hebe of Woodstockfailed not to recognise and welcome Everard by an almost imperceptiblecurtsy; but she did not serve her interest, as she designed, when sheasked the knight, as a question of course, whether he commanded theattendance of Mistress Alice. A stern _No_, was the decided reply; andthe ill-timed interference seemed to increase his previous irritationagainst Everard for his depreciation of Shakspeare. "I would insist,"said Sir Henry, resuming the obnoxious subject, "were it fit for a poordisbanded cavalier to use such a phrase towards a commander of theconquering army,--upon, knowing whether the convulsion which has sent ussaints and prophets without end, has not also afforded us a poet withenough both of gifts and grace to outshine poor old Will, the oracle andidol of us blinded and carnal cavaliers."

  "Surely, sir," replied Colonel Everard; "I know verses written by afriend of the Commonwealth, and those, too, of a dramatic character,which, weighed in an impartial scale, might equal even the poetry ofShakspeare, and which are free from the fustian and indelicacy withwhich that great bard was sometimes content to feed the coarse appetitesof his barbarous audience."

  "Indeed!" said the knight, keeping down his wrath with difficulty. "Ishould like to be acquainted with this master-piece of poetry!--May weask the name of this distinguished person?"

  "It must be Vicars, or Withers, at least," said the feigned page.

  "No, sir," replied Everard, "nor Drummond of Hawthornden, nor LordStirling neither. And yet the verses will vindicate what I say, if youwill make allowance for indifferent recitation, for I am betteraccustomed to speak to a battalion than to those who love the muses. Thespeaker is a lady benighted, who, having lost her way in a pathlessforest, at first expresses herself agitated by the supernatural fears towhich her situation gave rise."

  "A play, too, and written by a roundhead author!" said Sir Henry insurprise.

  "A dramatic production at least," replied his nephew; and began torecite simply, but with feeling, the lines now so well known, but whichhad then obtained no celebrity, the fame of the author resting upon thebasis rather of his polemical and political publications, than on thepoetry doomed in after days to support the eternal structure of hisimmortality.

  'These thoughts may startle, but will not, astound The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended By a strong-siding champion, Conscience.'"

  "My own opinion, nephew Markham, my own opinion," said Sir Henry, with aburst of admiration; "better expressed, but just what I said when thescoundrelly roundheads pretended to see ghosts at Woodstock--Go on, Iprithee."

  Everard proceeded:--

  "'O welcome pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope, Thou hovering angel, girt with golden wings, And thou unblemish'd form of Chastity! I see ye visibly, and now believe That he the Supreme Good, to whom all things ill Are but as slavish officers of vengeance, Would send a glistering guardian, if need were, To keep my life and honour unassail'd.-- Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud. Turn forth her silver lining on the night?'"

  "The rest has escaped me," said the reciter; "and I marvel I have beenable to remember so much."

  Sir Henry Lee, who had expected some effusion very different from thoseclassical and beautiful lines, soon changed the scornful expression ofhis countenance, relaxed his contorted upper lip, and, stroking down hisbeard with his left hand, rested the forefinger of the right upon hiseyebrow, in sign of profound attention. After Everard had ceasedspeaking, the old man signed as at the end of a strain of sweet music.He then spoke in a gentler manner than formerly.

  "Cousin Markham," he said, "these verses flow sweetly, and sound in myears like the well-touched warbling of a lute. But thou knowest I amsomewhat slow of apprehending the full meaning of that which I hear forthe first time. Repeat me these verses again, slowly and deliberately;for I always love to hear poetry twice, the first time for sound, andthe latter time for sense."

  Thus encouraged, Everard recited again the lines with more hardihood andbetter effect; the knight distinctly understanding, and from his looksand motions, highly applauding them.

  "Yes!" he broke out, when Everard was again silent--"Yes, I do call thatpoetry--though it were even written by a Presbyterian, or an Anabaptisteither. Ay, there were good and righteous people to be found evenamongst the offending towns which were destroyed by fire. And certainlyI have heard, though with little credence (begging your pardon, cousin.Everard,) that there are men among you who have seen the error of theirways in rebelling against the best and kindest of masters, and bringingit to that pass that he was murdered by a gang yet fiercer thanthemselves. Ay, doubtless, the gentleness of spirit, and the purity ofmind, which dictated those beautiful lines, has long ago taught a man soamiable to say, I have sinned, I have sinned. Yes, I doubt not so sweeta harp has been broken, even in remorse, for the crimes he was witnessto; and now he sits drooping for the shame and sorrow of England,--allhis noble rhymes, as Will says,

  'Like sweet bells jangled out of tune and harsh.'

  Dost thou not think so, Master Kerneguy?"

  "Not I, Sir Henry," answered the page, somewhat maliciously.

  "What, dost not believe the author of these lines must needs be of thebetter file, and leaning to our persuasion?"

  "I think, Sir Henry, that the poetry qualifies the author to write aplay on the subject of Dame Potiphar and her recusant lover; and as forhis calling--that last metaphor of the cloud in a black coat or cloak,with silver lining, would have dubbed him a tailor with me, only that Ihappen to know that he is a schoolmaster by profession, and by politicalopinions qualified to be Poet Laureate to Cromwell; for what ColonelEverard has repeated with such unction, is the production of no lesscelebrated a person than John Milton."

  "John Milton!" exclaimed Sir Henry in astonishment--"What! John Milton,the blasphemous and bloody-minded author of the _Defensio PopuliAnglicani_!--the advocate of the infernal High Court of Fiends; thecreature and parasite of that grand impostor, that loathsome hypocrite,that detestable monster, that prodigy of the universe, that disgrace ofmankind, that landscape of iniquity, that sink of sin, and thatcompendium of baseness, Oliver Cromwell!"

  "Even the same John Milton," answered Charles; "schoolmaster to littleboys, and tailor to the clouds, which he furnishes with suits of black,lined with silver, at no other expense than that of common sense."

  "Markham Everard," said the old knight, "I will never forgive thee--never, never. Thou hast made me speak words of praise respecting onewhose offal should fatten the region-kites. Speak not to me, sir, butbegone! Am I, your kinsman and benefactor, a fit person to be juggledout of my commendation and eulogy, and brought to bedaub such a whitenedsepulchre as the sophist Milton?"

  "I profess," said Everard, "this is hard measure, Sir Henry. You pressedme--you defied me, to produce poetry as good as Shakspeare's. I onlythought of the verses, not of the politics of Milton."

  "Oh yes, sir," replied Sir Henry; "we well know your power of makingdistinctions; you could make war against the King's prerogative, withouthaving the least design against his person. Oh Heaven forbid! But Heavenwill hear and judge you. Set down the beverage, Phoebe"--(this was addedby way of parenthesis to Phoebe, who entered with refreshment)--"ColonelEverard is not thirsty--You have wiped your mouths, and said you havedone no evil. But though you have deceived man, yet God you cannotdeceive. And you shall wipe no lips in Woodstock, either after meat ordrink, I promise you."

  Charged thus at once with the faults imputed to his whole religious sectand political party, Everard felt too late of what imprudence he hadbeen guilty in giving the opening, by disputing his uncle's taste indramatic poetry. He endeavoured to explain--to apologise.

  "I mistook your purpose,
honoured sir, and thought you really desired toknow something of our literature; and in repeating what you deemed notunworthy your hearing, I profess I thought I was doing you pleasure,instead of stirring your indignation."

  "O ay!" returned the knight, with unmitigated rigour of resentment--"profess--profess--Ay, that is the new phrase of asseveration, insteadof the profane adjuration of courtiers and cavaliers--Oh, sir, _profess_less and _practise_ more--and so good day to you. Master Kerneguy, youwill find beverage in my apartment."

  While Phoebe stood gaping in admiration at the sudden quarrel which hadarisen, Colonel Everard's vexation and resentment was not a littleincreased by the nonchalance of the young Scotsman, who, with his handsthrust into his pockets, (with a courtly affectation of the time,) hadthrown himself into one of the antique chairs, and, though habituallytoo polite to laugh aloud, and possessing that art of internal laughterby which men of the world learn to indulge their mirth without incurringquarrels, or giving direct offence, was at no particular pains toconceal that he was exceedingly amused by the result of the Colonel'svisit to Woodstock. Colonel Everard's patience, however, had reachedbounds which it was very likely to surpass; for, though differing widelyin politics, there was a resemblance betwixt the temper of the uncle andnephew.

  "Damnation" exclaimed the Colonel, in a tone which became a puritan aslittle as did the exclamation itself.

  "Amen!" said Louis Kerneguy, but in a tone so soft and gentle, that theejaculation seemed rather to escape him than to be designedly uttered."Sir!" said Everard, striding towards him in that sort of humour, when aman, full of resentment, would not unwillingly find an object on whichto discharge it.

  "_Plait-il?_" said the page, in the most equable tone, looking up in hisface with the most unconscious innocence.

  "I wish to know, sir," retorted Everard, "the meaning of that which yousaid just now?"

  "Only a pouring out of the spirit, worthy sir," returned Kerneguy--"asmall skiff dispatched to Heaven on my own account, to keep company withyour holy petition just now expressed."

  "Sir, I have known a merry gentleman's bones broke for such a smile asyou wear just now," replied Everard.

  "There, look you now" answered the malicious page, who could not weigheven the thoughts of his safety against the enjoyment of his jest--"Ifyou had stuck to your professions, worthy sir, you must have choked bythis time; but your round execration bolted like a cork from a bottle ofcider, and now allows your wrath to come foaming out after it, in thehonest unbaptized language of common ruffians."

  "For Heaven's sake, Master Girnegy," said Phoebe, "forbear giving theColonel these bitter words! And do you, good Colonel Markham, scorn totake offence at his hands--he is but a boy."

  "If the Colonel or you choose, Mistress Phoebe, you shall find me aman--I think the gentleman can say something to the purpose already.--Probably he may recommend to you the part of the Lady in Comus; and Ionly hope his own admiration of John Milton will not induce him toundertake the part of Samson Agonistes, and blow up this old house withexecration, or pull it down in wrath about our ears."

  "Young man," said the Colonel, still in towering passion, "if yourespect my principles for nothing else, be grateful to the protectionwhich, but for them, you would not easily attain."

  "Nay, then," said the attendant, "I must fetch those who have moreinfluence with you than I have," and away tripped Phoebe; while Kerneguyanswered Everard in the same provoking tone of calm indifference,--"Before you menace me with a thing so formidable as your resentment, youought to be certain whether I may not be compelled by circumstances todeny you the opportunity you seem to point at."

  At this moment Alice, summoned no doubt by her attendant, entered thehall hastily.

  "Master Kerneguy," she said, "my father requests to see you in VictorLee's apartment."

  Kerneguy arose and bowed, but seemed determined to remain till Everard'sdeparture, so as to prevent any explanation betwixt the cousins."Markham," said Alice, hurriedly--"Cousin Everard--I have but a momentto remain here--for God's sake, do you instantly begone!--be cautiousand patient--but do not tarry here--my father is fearfully incensed."

  "I have had my uncle's word for that, madam," replied Everard, "as wellas his injunction to depart, which I will obey without delay. I was notaware that you would have seconded so harsh an order quite so willingly;but I go, madam, sensible I leave those behind whose company is moreagreeable."

  "Unjust--ungenerous--ungrateful!" said Alice; but fearful her wordsmight reach ears for which they were not designed, she spoke them in avoice so feeble, that her cousin, for whom they were intended, lost theconsolation they were calculated to convey.

  He bowed coldly to Alice, as taking leave, and said, with an air of thatconstrained courtesy which sometimes covers, among men of condition, themost deadly hatred, "I believe, Master Kerneguy, that I must make itconvenient at present to suppress my own peculiar opinions on the matterwhich we have hinted at in our conversation, in which case I will send agentleman, who, I hope, may be able to conquer yours."

  The supposed Scotsman made him a stately, and at the same time acondescending bow, said he should expect the honour of his commands,offered his hand to Mistress Alice, to conduct her back to her father'sapartment, and took a triumphant leave of his rival.

  Everard, on the other hand, stung beyond his patience, and, from thegrace and composed assurance of the youth's carriage, still conceivinghim to be either Wilmot, or some of his compeers in rank and profligacy,returned to the town of Woodstock, determined not to be outbearded, eventhough he should seek redress by means which his principles forbade himto consider as justifiable.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SIXTH.

  Boundless intemperance In nature is a tyranny--it hath been The untimely emptying of many a throne, And fall of many kings. MACBETH.

  While Colonel Everard retreated in high indignation from the littlerefection, which Sir Henry Lee had in his good-humour offered, andwithdrawn under the circumstances of provocation which we have detailed,the good old knight, scarce recovered from his fit of passion, partookof it with his daughter and guest, and shortly after, recollecting somesilvan task, (for, though to little efficient purpose, he stillregularly attended to his duties as Ranger,) he called Bevis, and wentout, leaving the two young people together.

  "Now," said the amorous Prince to himself, "that Alice is left withouther lion, it remains to see whether she is herself of a tigress breed.--So, Sir Bevis has left his charge," he said loud; "I thought the knightsof old, those stern guardians of which he is so fit a representative,were more rigorous in maintaining a vigilant guard."

  "Bevis," said Alice, "knows that his attendance on me is totallyneedless; and, moreover, he has other duties to perform, which everytrue knight prefers to dangling the whole morning by a lady's sleeve."

  "You speak treason against all true affection," said the gallant; "alady's lightest wish should to a true knight be more binding than aughtexcepting the summons of his sovereign. I wish, Mistress Alice, youwould but intimate your slightest desire to me, and you should see how Ihave practised obedience."

  "You never brought me word what o'clock it was this morning," repliedthe young lady, "and there I sate questioning of the wings of Time, whenI should have remembered that gentlemen's gallantry can be quite asfugitive as Time himself. How do you know what your disobedience mayhave cost me and others? Pudding and pasty may have been burned to acinder, for, sir, I practise the old domestic rule of visiting thekitchen; or I may have missed prayers, or I may have been too late foran appointment, simply by the negligence of Master Louis Kerneguyfailing to let me know the hour of the day."

  "O," replied Kerneguy, "I am one of those lovers who cannot endureabsence--I must be eternally at the feet of my fair enemy--such, Ithink, is the title with which romances teach us to grace the fair andcruel to whom we devote our hearts and lives.--Speak for me, goodlute," he added, taking up the instrumen
t, "and show whether I know notmy duty."

  He sung, but with more taste than execution, the air of a Frenchrondelai, to which some of the wits or sonnetteers, in his gay androving train, had adapted English verses.

  An hour with thee!--When earliest day Dapples with gold the eastern grey, Oh, what, can frame my mind to bear The toil and turmoil, cark and care. New griefs, which coming hours unfold, And sad remembrance of the old?-- One hour with thee!

  One hour with thee!--When burning June Waves his red flag at pitch of noon; What shall repay the faithful swain, His labour on the sultry plain, And more than cave or sheltering bough, Cool feverish blood, and throbbing brow?-- One hour with thee!

  One hour with thee!--When sun is set, O, what can teach me to forget The thankless labours of the day; The hopes, the wishes, flung away: The increasing wants, and lessening gains, The master's pride, who scorns my pains?-- One hour with thee!

  "Truly, there is another verse," said the songster; "but I sing it notto you, Mistress Alice, because some of the prudes of the court liked itnot." "I thank you, Master Louis," answered the young lady, "both foryour discretion in singing what has given me pleasure, and in forbearingwhat might offend me. Though a country girl, I pretend to be so far ofthe court mode, as to receive nothing which does not pass current amongthe better class there."

  "I would," answered Louis, "that you were so well confirmed in theircreed, as to let all pass with you, to which court ladies would givecurrency."

  "And what would be the consequence?" said Alice, with perfect composure.

  "In that case," said Louis, embarrassed like a general who finds thathis preparations for attack do not seem to strike either fear orconfusion into the enemy--"in that case you would forgive me, fairAlice, if I spoke to you in a warmer language than that of meregallantry--if I told you how much my heart was interested in what youconsider as idle jesting--if I seriously owned it was in your power tomake me the happiest or the most miserable of human beings."

  "Master Kerneguy," said Alice, with the same unshaken nonchalance, "letus understand each other. I am little acquainted with high-bred manners,and I am unwilling, I tell you plainly, to be accounted a silly countrygirl, who, either from ignorance or conceit, is startled at every wordof gallantry addressed to her by a young man, who, for the present, hasnothing better to do than coin and circulate such false compliments. ButI must not let this fear of seeming rustic and awkwardly timorous carryme too far; and being ignorant of the exact limits, I will take care tostop within them."

  "I trust, madam," said Kerneguy, "that however severely you may bedisposed to judge of me, your justice will not punish me too severelyfor an offence, of which your charms are alone the occasion?"

  "Hear me out, sir, if you please," resumed Alice. "I have listened toyou when you spoke _en berger_--nay, my complaisance has been so great,as to answer you _en bergere_--for I do not think any thing exceptridicule can come of dialogues between Lindor and Jeanneton; and theprincipal fault of the style is its extreme and tiresome silliness andaffectation. But when you begin to kneel, offer to take my hand, andspeak with a more serious tone, I must remind you of our realcharacters. I am the daughter of Sir Henry Lee, sir; you are, or professto be, Master Louis Kerneguy, my brother's page, and a fugitive forshelter under my father's roof, who incurs danger by the harbour heaffords you, and whose household, therefore, ought not to be disturbedby your unpleasing importunities."

  "I would to Heaven, fair Alice," said the King, "that your objections tothe suit which I am urging, not in jest, but most seriously, as that onwhich my happiness depends, rested only on the low and precariousstation of Louis Kerneguy!--Alice, thou hast the soul of thy family, andmust needs love honour. I am no more the needy Scottish page, whom Ihave, for my own purposes, personated, than I am the awkward lout, whosemanners I adopted on the first night of our acquaintance. This hand,poor as I seem, can confer a coronet."

  "Keep it," said Alice, "for some more ambitious damsel, my lord,--forsuch I conclude is your title, if this romance be true,--I would notaccept your hand, could you confer a duchy."

  "In one sense, lovely Alice, you have neither overrated my power nor myaffection. It is your King--it is Charles Stewart who speaks to you!--hecan confer duchies, and if beauty can merit them, it is that of AliceLee. Nay, nay--rise--do not kneel--it is for your sovereign to kneel tothee, Alice, to whom he is a thousand times more devoted than thewanderer Louis dared venture to profess himself. My Alice has, I know,been trained up in those principles of love and obedience to hersovereign, that she cannot, in conscience or in mercy, inflict on himsuch a wound as would be implied in the rejection of his suit."

  In spite of all Charles's attempts to prevent her, Alice had perseveredin kneeling on one knee, until she had touched with her lip the handwith which he attempted to raise her. But this salutation ended, shestood upright, with her arms folded on her bosom--her looks humble, butcomposed, keen, and watchful, and so possessed of herself, so littleflattered by the communication which the King had supposed would havebeen overpowering, that he scarce knew in what terms next to urge hissolicitation.

  "Thou art silent--thou art silent," he said, "my pretty Alice. Has theKing no more influence with thee than the poor Scottish page?"

  "In one sense, every influence," said Alice; "for he commands my bestthoughts, my best wishes, my earnest prayers, my devoted loyalty, which,as the men of the House of Lee have been ever ready to testify with thesword, so are the women bound to seal, if necessary, with their blood.But beyond the duties of a true and devoted subject, the King is evenless to Alice Lee than poor Louis Kerneguy. The Page could have tenderedan honourable union--the Monarch can but offer a contaminated coronet."

  "You mistake, Alice--you mistake," said the King, eagerly. "Sit down andlet me speak to you--sit down--What is't you fear?"

  "I fear nothing, my liege," answered Alice. "What _can_ I fear from theKing of Britain--I, the daughter of his loyal subject, and under myfather's roof? But I remember the distance betwixt us; and though Imight trifle and jest with mine equal, to my King I must only appear inthe dutiful posture of a subject, unless where his safety may seem torequire that I do not acknowledge his dignity."

  Charles, though young, being no novice in such scenes, was surprised toencounter resistance of a kind which had not been opposed to him insimilar pursuits, even in cases where he had been unsuccessful. Therewas neither anger, nor injured pride, nor disorder, nor disdain, real oraffected, in the manners and conduct of Alice. She stood, as it seemed,calmly prepared to argue on the subject, which is generally decided bypassion--showed no inclination to escape from the apartment, butappeared determined to hear with patience the suit of the lover--whileher countenance and manner intimated that she had this complaisance onlyin deference to the commands of the King.

  "She is ambitious," thought Charles; "it is by dazzling her love ofglory, not by mere passionate entreaties, that I must hope to besuccessful.--I pray you be seated, my fair Alice," he said; "the loverentreats--the King commands you."

  "The King," said Alice, "may permit the relaxation of the ceremonies dueto royalty, but he cannot abrogate the subject's duty, even by expresscommand. I stand here while it is your Majesty's pleasure to address--apatient listener, as in duty bound."

  "Know then, simple girl," said the King, "that in accepting my profferedaffection and protection, you break through no law either of virtue ormorality. Those who are born to royalty are deprived of many of thecomforts of private life--chiefly that which is, perhaps, the dearestand most precious, the power of choosing their own mates for life. Theirformal weddings are guided upon principles of political expedience only,and those to whom they are wedded are frequently, in temper, person, anddisposition, the most unlikely to make them happy. Society hascommiseration, therefore, towards us, and binds our unwilling and oftenunhappy wedlocks with chains of a lighter and more easy character thanthose which fetter other men, whose marriage ties, as more voluntarilyassumed
, ought, in proportion, to be more strictly binding. Andtherefore, ever since the time that old Henry built these walls, priestsand prelates, as well as nobles and statesmen, have been accustomed tosee a fair Rosamond rule the heart of an affectionate monarch, andconsole him for the few hours of constraint and state which he mustbestow upon some angry and jealous Eleanor. To such a connection theworld attaches no blame; they rush to the festival to admire the beautyof the lovely Esther, while the imperious Vashti is left to queen it insolitude; they throng the palace to ask her protection, whose influenceis more in the state an hundred times than that of the proud consort;her offspring rank with the nobles of the land, and vindicate by theircourage, like the celebrated Longsword, Earl of Salisbury, their descentfrom royalty and from love. From such connections our richest ranks ofnobles are recruited; and the mother lives, in the greatness of herposterity honoured and blest, as she died lamented and wept in the armsof love and friendship."

  "Did Rosamond so die, my lord?" said Alice. "Our records say she waspoisoned by the injured Queen--poisoned, without time allowed to call toGod for the pardon of her many faults. Did her memory so live? I haveheard that, when the Bishop purified the church at Godstowe, hermonument was broken open by his orders, and her bones thrown out intounconsecrated ground."

  "Those were rude old days, sweet Alice," answered Charles; "queens arenot now so jealous, nor bishops so rigorous. And know, besides, that inthe lands to which I would lead the loveliest of her sex, other lawsobtain, which remove from such ties even the slightest show of scandal.There is a mode of matrimony, which, fulfilling all the rites of theChurch, leaves no stain on the conscience; yet investing the bride withnone of the privileges peculiar to her husband's condition, infringesnot upon the duties which the King owes to his subjects. So that AliceLee may, in all respects, become the real and lawful wife of CharlesStewart, except that their private union gives her no title to be Queenof England."

  "My ambition," said Alice, "will be sufficiently gratified to seeCharles king, without aiming to share either his dignity in public, orhis wealth and regal luxury in private."

  "I understand thee, Alice," said the King, hurt but not displeased. "Youridicule me, being a fugitive, for speaking like a king. It is a habit,I admit, which I have learned, and of which even misfortune cannot cureme. But my case is not so desperate as you may suppose. My friends arestill many in these kingdoms; my allies abroad are bound, by regard totheir own interest, to espouse my cause. I have hopes given me fromSpain, from France, and from other nations; and I have confidence thatmy father's blood has not been poured forth in vain, nor is doomed todry up without due vengeance. My trust is in Him from whom princesderive their title, and, think what thou wilt of my present condition, Ihave perfect confidence that I shall one day sit on the throne ofEngland."

  "May God grant it!" said Alice; "and that he _may_ grant it, noblePrince, deign to consider--whether you now pursue a conduct likely toconciliate his favour. Think of the course you recommend to a motherlessmaiden, who has no better defence against your sophistry, than what asense of morality, together with the natural feeling of female dignityinspires. Whether the death of her father, which would be theconsequence of her imprudence;--whether the despair of her brother,whose life has been so often in peril to save that of your Majesty;--whether the dishonour of the roof which has sheltered you, will readwell in your annals, or are events likely to propitiate God, whosecontroversy with your House has been but too visible, or recover theaffections of the people of England, in whose eyes such actions are anabomination, I leave to your own royal mind to consider."

  Charles paused, struck with a turn to the conversation which placed hisown interests more in collision with the gratification of his presentpassion than he had supposed.

  "If your Majesty," said Alice, curtsying deeply, "has no farthercommands for my attendance, may I be permitted to withdraw?"

  "Stay yet a little, strange and impracticable girl," said the King; "andanswer me but one question:--Is it the lowness of my present fortunesthat makes my suit contemptible?"

  "I have nothing to conceal, my liege," she said, "and my answer shall beas plain and direct as the question you have asked. If I could have beenmoved to an act of ignominious, insane, and ungrateful folly, it couldonly arise from my being blinded by that passion, which I believe ispleaded as an excuse for folly and for crime much more often than it hasa real existence. I must, in short, have been in love, as it iscalled--and that might have been--with my equal, but surely never withmy sovereign, whether such only in title, or in possession of hiskingdom."

  "Yet loyalty was ever the pride, almost the ruling passion, of yourfamily, Alice," said the King.

  "And could I reconcile that loyalty," said Alice, "with indulging mysovereign, by permitting him to prosecute a suit dishonourable tohimself as to me? Ought I, as a faithful subject, to join him in afolly, which might throw yet another stumbling-block in the path to hisrestoration, and could only serve to diminish his security, even if hewere seated upon his throne?"

  "At this rate," said Charles, discontentedly, "I had better haveretained my character of the page, than assumed that of a sovereign,which it seems is still more irreconcilable with my wishes."

  "My candour shall go still farther," said Alice. "I could have felt aslittle for Louis Kerneguy as for the heir of Britain; for such love as Ihave to bestow, (and it is not such as I read of in romance, or hearpoured forth in song,) has been already conferred on another object.This gives your Majesty pain--I am sorry for it--but the wholesomestmedicines are often bitter."

  "Yes," answered the King, with some asperity, "and physicians arereasonable enough to expect their patients to swallow them, as if theywere honeycomb. It is true, then, that whispered tale of the cousinColonel, and the daughter of the loyal Lee has set her heart upon arebellious fanatic?"

  "My love was given ere I knew what these words fanatic and rebel meant.I recalled it not, for I am satisfied, that amidst the greatdistractions which divide the kingdom, the person to whom you allude haschosen his part, erroneously, perhaps, but conscientiously--he,therefore, has still the highest place in my affection and esteem. Morehe cannot have, and will not ask, until some happy turn shall reconcilethese public differences, and my father be once more reconciled to him.Devoutly do I pray that such an event may occur by your Majesty's speedyand unanimous restoration!"

  "You have found out a reason," said the King, pettishly, "to make medetest the thought of such a change--nor have you, Alice, any sincereinterest to pray for it. On the contrary, do you not see that yourlover, walking side by side with Cromwell, may, or rather must, sharehis power? nay, if Lambert does not anticipate him, he may trip upOliver's heels, and reign in his stead. And think you not he will findmeans to overcome the pride of the loyal Lees, and achieve an union, forwhich things are better prepared than that which Cromwell is said tomeditate betwixt one of his brats and the no less loyal heir ofFauconberg?"

  "Your Majesty," said Alice, "has found a way at length to avengeyourself--if what I have said deserves vengeance."

  "I could point out a yet shorter road to your union," said Charles,without minding her distress, or perhaps enjoying the pleasure ofretaliation. "Suppose that you sent your Colonel word that there was oneCharles Stewart here, who had come to disturb the Saints in theirpeaceful government, which they had acquired by prayer and preaching,pike and gun,--and suppose he had the art to bring down a half-score oftroopers, quite enough, as times go, to decide the fate of this heir ofroyalty--think you not the possession of such a prize as this mightobtain from the Rumpers, or from Cromwell, such a reward as mightovercome your father's objections to a roundhead's alliance, and placethe fair Alice and her cousin Colonel in full possession of theirwishes?"

  "My liege," said Alice, her cheeks glowing, and her eyes sparkling--forshe too had her share of the hereditary temperament of her family,--"this passes my patience. I have heard, without expressing anger, themost ignominious persuasions addressed to myse
lf, and I have vindicatedmyself for refusing to be the paramour of a fugitive Prince, as if I hadbeen excusing myself from accepting a share of an actual crown. But doyou think I can hear all who are dear to me slandered without emotion orreply? I will not, sir; and were you seated with all the terrors of yourfather's Star-chamber around you, you should hear me defend the absentand the innocent. Of my father I will say nothing, but that if he is nowwithout wealth--without state, almost without a sheltering home andneedful food--it is because he spent all in the service of the King. Heneeded not to commit any act of treachery or villany to obtain wealth--he had an ample competence in his own possessions. For Markham Everard--he knows no such thing as selfishness--he would not, for broad England,had she the treasures of Peru in her bosom, and a paradise on hersurface, do a deed that would disgrace his own name, or injure thefeelings of another--Kings, my liege, may take a lesson from him. Myliege, for the present I take my leave."

  "Alice, Alice--stay!" exclaimed the King. "She is gone.--This must bevirtue--real, disinterested, overawing virtue--or there is no such thingon earth. Yet Wilmot and Villiers will not believe a word of it, but addthe tale to the other wonders of Woodstock. 'Tis a rare wench! and Iprofess, to use the Colonel's obtestation, that I know not whether toforgive and be friends with her, or study a dire revenge. If it were notfor that accursed cousin--that puritan Colonel--I could forgive everything else to so noble a wench. But a roundheaded rebel preferred tome--the preference avowed to my face, and justified with the assertion,that a king might take a lesson from him--it is gall and wormwood. Ifthe old man had not come up this morning as he did, the King should havetaken or given a lesson, and a severe one. It was a mad rencontre toventure upon with my rank and responsibility--and yet this wench hasmade me so angry with her, and so envious of him, that if an opportunityoffered, I should scarce be able to forbear him.--Ha! whom have wehere?"

  The interjection at the conclusion of this royal soliloquy, wasoccasioned by the unexpected entrance of another personage of the drama.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH.

  _Benedict_. Shall I speak a word in your ear? _Claudio_. God bless me from a challenge. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

  As Charles was about to leave the apartment, he was prevented by theappearance of Wildrake, who entered with an unusual degree of swagger inhis gait, and of fantastic importance on his brow. "I crave your pardon,fair sir," he said; "but, as they say in my country, when doors are opendogs enter. I have knocked and called in the hall to no purpose; so,knowing the way to this parlour, sir,--for I am a light partisan, andthe road I once travel I never forget,--I ventured to present myselfunannounced."

  "Sir Henry Lee is abroad, sir, I believe, in the Chase," said Charles,coldly, for the appearance of this somewhat vulgar debauchee was notagreeable to him at the moment, "and Master Albert Lee has left theLodge for two or three days."

  "I am aware of it, sir," said Wildrake; "but I have no business atpresent with either."

  "And with whom is your business?" said Charles; "that is, if I may bepermitted to ask--since I think it cannot in possibility be with me."

  "Pardon me in turn, sir," answered the cavalier; "in no possibility canit be imparted to any other but yourself, if you be, as I think you are,though in something better habit, Master Louis Girnigo, the Scottishgentleman who waits upon Master Albert Lee."

  "I am all you are like to find for him," answered Charles.

  "In truth," said the cavalier, "I do perceive a difference, but rest,and better clothing, will do much; and I am glad of it, since I would besorry to have brought a message, such as I am charged with, to atatterdemalion."

  "Let us get to the business, sir, if you please," said the King--"youhave a message for me, you say?"

  "True, sir," replied Wildrake; "I am the friend of Colonel MarkhamEverard, sir, a tall man, and a worthy person in the field, although Icould wish him a better cause--A message I have to you, it is certain,in a slight note, which I take the liberty of presenting with the usualformalities." So saying, he drew his sword, put the billet he mentionedupon the point, and making a profound bow, presented it to Charles.

  The disguised Monarch accepted of it, with a grave return of the salute,and said, as he was about to open the letter, "I am not, I presume, toexpect friendly contents in an epistle presented in so hostile amanner?"

  "A-hem, sir," replied the ambassador, clearing his voice, while hearranged a suitable answer, in which the mild strain of diplomacy mightbe properly maintained; "not utterly hostile, I suppose, sir, is theinvitation, though it be such as must be construed in the commencementrather bellicose and pugnacious. I trust, sir, we shall find that a fewthrusts will make a handsome conclusion of the business; and so, as myold master used to say, _Pax mascitur ex bello_. For my own poor share,I am truly glad to have been graced by my friend, Markham Everard, inthis matter--the rather as I feared the puritan principles with which heis imbued, (I will confess the truth to you, worthy sir,) might haverendered him unwilling, from certain scruples, to have taken thegentlemanlike and honourable mode of righting himself in such a case asthe present. And as I render a friend's duty to my friend, so I humblyhope, Master Louis Girnigo, that I do no injustice to you, in preparingthe way for the proposed meeting, where, give me leave to say, I trust,that if no fatal accident occur, we shall be all better friends when theskirmish is over than we were before it began."

  "I should suppose so, sir, in any case," said Charles, looking at theletter; "worse than mortal enemies we can scarce be, and it is thatfooting upon which this billet places us."

  "You say true, sir," said Wildrake; "it is, sir, a cartel, introducingto a single combat, for the pacific object of restoring a perfect goodunderstanding betwixt the survivors--in case that fortunately that wordcan be used in the plural after the event of the meeting."

  "In short, we only fight, I suppose," replied the King, "that we maycome to a perfectly good and amicable understanding?"

  "You are right again, sir; and I thank you for the clearness of yourapprehension," said Wildrake.--"Ah, sir, it is easy to do with a personof honour and of intellect in such a case as this. And I beseech you,sir, as a personal kindness to myself, that, as the morning is like tobe frosty, and myself am in some sort rheumatic--as war will leave itsscars behind, sir,--I say, I will entreat of you to bring with you somegentleman of honour, who will not disdain to take part in what is goingforward--a sort of pot-luck, sir--with a poor old soldier like myself--that we may take no harm by standing unoccupied during such coldweather."

  "I understand, sir," replied Charles; "if this matter goes forward, beassured I will endeavour to provide you with a suitable opponent."

  "I shall remain greatly indebted to you, sir," said Wildrake; "and I amby no means curious about the quality of my antagonist. It is true Iwrite myself esquire and gentleman, and should account myself especiallyhonoured by crossing my sword with that of Sir Henry or Master AlbertLee; but, should that not be convenient, I will not refuse to present mypoor person in opposition to any gentleman who has served the King,--which I always hold as a sort of letters of nobility in itself, and,therefore, would on no account decline the duello with such a person."

  "The King is much obliged to you, sir," said Charles, "for the honouryou do his faithful subjects."

  "O, sir, I am scrupulous on that point--very scrupulous.--When there isa roundhead in question, I consult the Herald's books, to see that he isentitled to bear arms, as is Master Markham Everard, without which, Ipromise you, I had borne none of his cartel. But a cavalier is with me agentleman, of course--Be his birth ever so low, his loyalty has ennobledhis condition."

  "It is well, sir," said the King. "This paper requests me to meet MasterEverard at six to-morrow morning, at the tree called the King's Oak--Iobject neither to place nor time. He proffers the sword, at which, hesays, we possess some equality--I do not decline the weapon; forcompany, two gentlemen--I shall endeavour to procure my
self anassociate, and a suitable partner for you, sir, if you incline to joinin the dance."

  "I kiss your hand, sir, and rest yours, under a sense of obligation,"answered the envoy.

  "I thank you, sir," continued the King; "I will therefore be ready atplace and time, and suitably furnished; and I will either give yourfriend such satisfaction with my sword as he requires, or will renderhim such cause for not doing so as he will be contented with."

  "You will excuse me, sir," said Wildrake, "if my mind is too dull, underthe circumstances, to conceive any alternative that can remain betwixttwo men of honour in such a case, excepting--sa--sa--." He threw himselfinto a fencing position, and made a pass with his sheathed rapier, butnot directed towards the person of the King, whom he addressed.

  "Excuse me, sir," said Charles, "if I do not trouble your intellectswith the consideration of a case which may not occur.--But, for example,I may plead urgent employment on the part of the public." This he spokein a low and mysterious tone of voice, which Wildrake appeared perfectlyto comprehend; for he laid his forefinger on his nose with what he meantfor a very intelligent and apprehensive nod.

  "Sir," said he, "if you be engaged in any affair for the King, my friendshall have every reasonable degree of patience--Nay, I will fight himmyself in your stead, merely to stay his stomach, rather than you shouldbe interrupted.--And, sir, if you can find room in your enterprise for apoor gentleman that has followed Lunsford and Goring, you have but toname day, time, and place of rendezvous; for truly, sir, I am tired ofthe scald hat, cropped hair, and undertaker's cloak, with which myfriend has bedizened me, and would willingly ruffle it out once more inthe King's cause, when whether I be banged or hanged, I care not."

  "I shall remember what you say, sir, should an opportunity occur," saidthe King; "and I wish his Majesty had many such subjects--I presume ourbusiness is now settled?"

  "When you shall have been pleased, sir, to give me a trifling scrap ofwriting, to serve for my credentials--for such, you know, is thecustom--your written cartel hath its written answer."

  "That, sir, will I presently do," said Charles, "and in good time, hereare the materials."

  "And, sir," continued the envoy--"Ah!--ahem!--if you have interest inthe household for a cup of sack--I am a man of few words, and amsomewhat hoarse with much speaking--moreover, a serious business of thiskind always makes one thirsty.--Besides, sir, to part with dry lipsargues malice, which God forbid should exist in such an honourableconjuncture."

  "I do not boast much influence in the house, sir," said the King; "butif you would have the condescension to accept of this broad piecetowards quenching your thirst at the George"--

  "Sir," said the cavalier, (for the times admitted of this strangespecies of courtesy, nor was Wildrake a man of such peculiar delicacy askeenly to dispute the matter,)--"I am once again beholden to you. But Isee not how it consists with my honour to accept of such accommodation,unless you were to accompany and partake?"

  "Pardon me, sir," replied Charles, "my safety recommends that I remainrather private at present."

  "Enough said," Wildrake observed; "poor cavaliers must not stand onceremony. I see, sir, you understand cutter's law--when one tall fellowhas coin, another must not be thirsty. I wish you, sir, a continuance ofhealth and happiness until to-morrow, at the King's Oak, at sixo'clock."

  "Farewell, sir," said the King, and added, as Wildrake went down thestair whistling, "Hey for cavaliers," to which air his long rapier,jarring against the steps and banisters, bore no unsuitable burden--"Farewell, thou too just emblem of the state, to which war, and defeat,and despair, have reduced many a gallant gentleman."

  During the rest of the day, there occurred nothing peculiarly deservingof notice. Alice sedulously avoided showing towards the disguised Princeany degree of estrangement or shyness, which could be discovered by herfather, or by any one else. To all appearance, the two young personscontinued on the same footing in every respect. Yet she made the gallanthimself sensible, that this apparent intimacy was assumed merely to saveappearances, and in no way designed as retracting from the severity withwhich she had rejected his suit. The sense that this was the case,joined to his injured self-love, and his enmity against a successfulrival, induced Charles early to withdraw himself to a solitary walk inthe wilderness, where, like Hercules in the Emblem of Cebes, dividedbetwixt the personifications of Virtue and of Pleasure, he listenedalternately to the voice of Wisdom and of passionate Folly.

  Prudence urged to him the importance of his own life to the futureprosecution of the great object in which he had for the presentmiscarried--the restoration of monarchy in England, the rebuilding ofthe throne, the regaining the crown of his father, the avenging hisdeath, and restoring to their fortunes and their country the numerousexiles, who were suffering poverty and banishment on account of theirattachment to his cause. Pride too, or rather a just and natural senseof dignity, displayed the unworthiness of a Prince descending to actualpersonal conflict with a subject of any degree, and the ridicule whichwould be thrown on his memory, should he lose his life for an obscureintrigue by the hand of a private gentleman. What would his sagecounsellors, Nicholas and Hyde--what would his kind and wise governor,the Marquis of Hertford, say to such an act of rashness and folly? Wouldit not be likely to shake the allegiance of the staid and prudentpersons of the royalist party, since wherefore should they expose theirlives and estates to raise to the government of a kingdom a young manwho could not command his own temper? To this was to be added, theconsideration that even his success would add double difficulties to hisescape, which already seemed sufficiently precarious. If, stopping shortof death, he merely had the better of his antagonist, how did he knowthat he might not seek revenge by delivering up to government themalignant Louis Kerneguy, whose real character could not in that casefail to be discovered?

  These considerations strongly recommended to Charles that he shouldclear himself of the challenge without fighting; and the reservationunder which he had accepted it, afforded him some opportunity of doingso.

  But Passion also had her arguments, which she addressed to a temperrendered irritable by recent distress and mortification. In the firstplace, if he was a prince, he was also a gentleman, entitled to resentas such, and obliged to give or claim the satisfaction expected onoccasion of differences among gentlemen. With Englishmen, she urged, hecould never lose interest by showing himself ready, instead ofsheltering himself under his royal birth and pretensions, to comefrankly forward and maintain what he had done or said on his ownresponsibility. In a free nation, it seemed as if he would rather gainthan lose in the public estimation by a conduct which could not but seemgallant and generous. Then a character for courage was far morenecessary to support his pretensions than any other kind of reputation;and the lying under a challenge, without replying to it, might bring hisspirit into question. What would Villiers and Wilmot say of an intrigue,in which he had allowed himself to be shamefully baffled by a countrygirl, and had failed to revenge himself on his rival? The pasquinadeswhich they would compose, the witty sarcasms which they would circulateon the occasion, would be harder to endure than the grave rebukes ofHertford, Hyde, and Nicholas. This reflection, added to the stings ofyouthful and awakened courage, at length fixed his resolution, and hereturned to Woodstock determined to keep his appointment, come of itwhat might.

  Perhaps there mingled with his resolution a secret belief that such arencontre would not prove fatal. He was in the flower of his youth,active in all his exercises, and no way inferior to Colonel Everard, asfar as the morning's experiment had gone, in that of self-defence. Atleast, such recollection might pass through his royal mind, as he hummedto himself a well-known ditty, which he had picked up during hisresidence in Scotland--

  "A man may drink and not be drunk; A man may fight and not be slain; A man may kiss a bonnie lass, And yet be welcome back again."

  Meanwhile the busy and all-directing Dr. Rochecliffe had contrived tointimate to Alice that she must
give him a private audience, and shefound him by appointment in what was called the study, once filled withancient books, which, long since converted into cartridges, had mademore noise in the world at their final exit, than during the space whichhad intervened betwixt that and their first publication. The Doctorseated himself in a high-backed leathern easy-chair, and signed to Aliceto fetch a stool and sit down beside him.

  "Alice," said the old man, taking her hand affectionately, "thou art agood girl, a wise girl, a virtuous girl, one of those whose price isabove rubies--not that _rubies_ is the proper translation--but remind meto tell you of that another time. Alice, thou knowest who this LouisKerneguy is--nay, hesitate not to me--I know every thing--I am wellaware of the whole matter. Thou knowest this honoured house holds theFortunes of England." Alice was about to answer. "Nay, speak not, butlisten to me, Alice--How does he bear himself towards you?"

  Alice coloured with the deepest crimson. "I am a country-bred girl," shesaid, "and his manners are too courtlike for me."

  "Enough said--I know it all. Alice, he is exposed to a great dangerto-morrow, and you must be the happy means to prevent him."

  "I prevent him!--how, and in what manner?" said Alice, in surprise. "Itis my duty, as a subject, to do anything--anything that may become myfather's daughter"--

  Here she stopped, considerably embarrassed.

  "Yes," continued the Doctor, "to-morrow he hath made an appointment--anappointment with Markham Everard; the hour and place are set--six in themorning, by the King's Oak. If they meet, one will probably fall."

  "Now, may God forefend they should meet," said Alice, turning assuddenly pale as she had previously reddened. "But harm cannot come ofit; Everard will never lift his sword against the King."

  "For that," said Dr. Rochecliffe, "I would not warrant. But if thatunhappy young gentleman shall have still some reserve of the loyaltywhich his general conduct entirely disavows, it would not serve us here;for he knows not the King, but considers him merely as a cavalier, fromwhom he has received injury."

  "Let him know the truth, Doctor Rochecliffe, let him know it instantly,"said Alice; "_he_ lift hand against the King, a fugitive anddefenceless! He is incapable of it. My life on the issue, he becomesmost active in his preservation."

  "That is the thought of a maiden, Alice," answered the Doctor; "and, asI fear, of a maiden whose wisdom is misled by her affections. It wereworse than treason to admit a rebel officer, the friend of thearch-traitor Cromwell, into so great a secret. I dare not answer forsuch rashness. Hammond was trusted by his father, and you know what cameof it."

  "Then let my father know. He will meet Markham, or send to him,representing the indignity done to him by attacking his guest."

  "We dare not let your father into the secret who Louis Kerneguy reallyis. I did but hint the possibility of Charles taking refuge atWoodstock, and the rapture into which Sir Henry broke out, thepreparations for accommodation and the defence which he began to talkof, plainly showed that the mere enthusiasm of his loyalty would haveled to a risk of discovery. It is you, Alice, who must save the hopes ofevery true royalist."

  "I!" answered Alice; "it is impossible.--Why cannot my father be inducedto interfere, as in behalf of his friend and guest, though he know himas no other than Louis Kerneguy?"

  "You have forgot your father's character, my young friend," said theDoctor; "an excellent man, and the best of Christians, till there is aclashing of swords, and then he starts up the complete martialist, asdeaf to every pacific reasoning as if he were a game-cock."

  "You forget, Doctor Rochecliffe," said Alice, "that this very morning,if I understand the thing aright, my father prevented them fromfighting."

  "Ay," answered the Doctor, "because he deemed himself bound to keep thepeace in the Royal-Park; but it was done with such regret, Alice, that,should he find them at it again, I am clear to foretell he will only sofar postpone the combat as to conduct them to some unprivileged ground,and there bid them tilt and welcome, while he regaled his eyes with ascene so pleasing. No, Alice, it is you, and you only, who can help usin this extremity."

  "I see no possibility," said she, again colouring, "how I can be of theleast use."

  "You must send a note," answered Dr. Rochecliffe, "to the King--a notesuch as all women know how to write better than any man can teachthem--to meet you at the precise hour of the rendezvous. He will notfail you, for I know his unhappy foible."

  "Doctor Rochecliffe," said Alice gravely,--"you have known me frominfancy,--What have you seen in me to induce you to believe that Ishould ever follow such unbecoming counsel?"

  "And if you have known _me_ from infancy," retorted the Doctor, "whathave you seen of _me_ that you should suspect me of giving counsel to myfriend's daughter, which it would be misbecoming in her to follow? Youcannot be fool enough, I think, to suppose, that I mean you should carryyour complaisance farther than to keep him in discourse for an hour ortwo, till I have all in readiness for his leaving this place, from whichI can frighten him by the terrors of an alleged search?--So, C. S.mounts his horse and rides off, and Mistress Alice Lee has the honour ofsaving him."

  "Yes, at the expense of my own reputation," said Alice, "and the risk ofan eternal stain on my family. You say you know all. What can the Kingthink of my appointing an assignation with him after what has passed,and how will it be possible to disabuse him respecting the purpose of mydoing so?"

  "I will disabuse him, Alice; I will explain the whole."

  "Doctor Rochecliffe," said Alice, "you propose what is impossible. Youcan do much by your ready wit and great wisdom; but if new-fallen snowwere once sullied, not all your art could wash it clean again; and it isaltogether the same with a maiden's reputation."

  "Alice, my dearest child," said the Doctor, "bethink you that if Irecommended this means of saving the life of the King, at least rescuinghim from instant peril, it is because I see no other of which to availmyself. If I bid you assume, even for a moment, the semblance of what iswrong, it is but in the last extremity, and under circumstances whichcannot return--I will take the surest means to prevent all evil reportwhich can arise from what I recommend."

  "Say not so, Doctor," said Alice; "better undertake to turn back theIsis than to stop the course of calumny. The King will make boast to hiswhole licentious court, of the ease with which, but for a sudden alarm,he could have brought off Alice Lee as a paramour--the mouth whichconfers honour on others, will then be the means to deprive me of mine.Take a fitter course, one more becoming your own character andprofession. Do not lead him to fail in an engagement of honour, byholding out the prospect of another engagement equally dishonourable,whether false or true. Go to the King himself, speak to him, as theservants of God have a right to speak, even to earthly sovereigns. Pointout to him the folly and the wickedness of the course he is about topursue--urge upon him, that he fear the sword, since wrath bringeth thepunishment of the sword. Tell him, that the friends who died for him inthe field at Worcester, on the scaffolds, and on the gibbets, since thatbloody day--that the remnant who are in prison, scattered, fled, andruined on his account, deserve better of him and his father's race, thanthat he should throw away his life in an idle brawl--Tell him, that itis dishonest to venture that which is not his own, dishonourable tobetray the trust which brave men have reposed in his virtue and in hiscourage."

  Dr. Rochecliffe looked on her with a melancholy smile, his eyesglistening as he said, "Alas! Alice, even I could not plead that justcause to him so eloquently or so impressively as thou dost. But, alack!Charles would listen to neither. It is not from priests or women, hewould say, that men should receive counsel in affairs of honour."

  "Then, hear me, Doctor Rochecliffe--I will appear at the place ofrendezvous, and I will prevent the combat--do not fear that I can dowhat I say--at a sacrifice, indeed, but not that of my reputation. Myheart may be broken"--she endeavoured to stifle her sobs withdifficulty--"for the consequence; but not in the imagination of a man,and far less that man her sovereign, shall
a thought of Alice Lee beassociated with dishonour." She hid her face in her handkerchief, andburst out into unrestrained tears.

  "What means this hysterical passion?" said Dr. Rochecliffe, surprisedand somewhat alarmed by the vehemence of her grief--"Maiden, I must haveno concealments; I must know."

  "Exert your ingenuity, then, and discover it," said Alice--for a momentput out of temper at the Doctor's pertinacious self-importance--"Guessmy purpose, as you can guess at every thing else. It is enough to haveto go through my task, I will not endure the distress of telling itover, and that to one who--forgive me, dear Doctor--might not think myagitation on this occasion fully warranted."

  "Nay, then, my young mistress, you must be ruled," said Rochecliffe;"and if I cannot make you explain yourself, I must see whether yourfather can gain so far on you." So saying, he arose somewhat displeased,and walked towards the door.

  "You forget what you yourself told me, Doctor Rochecliffe," said Alice,"of the risk of communicating this great secret to my father."

  "It is too true," he said, stopping short and turning round; "and Ithink, wench, thou art too smart for me, and I have not met many such.But thou art a good girl, and wilt tell me thy device of free-will--itconcerns my character and influence with the King, that I should befully acquainted with whatever is _actum atque tractatum_, done andtreated of in this matter."

  "Trust your character to me, good Doctor," said Alice, attempting tosmile; "it is of firmer stuff than those of women, and will be safer inmy custody than mine could have been in yours. And thus much Icondescend--you shall see the whole scene--you shall go with meyourself, and much will I feel emboldened and heartened by yourcompany."

  "That is something," said the Doctor, though not altogether satisfiedwith this limited confidence. "Thou wert ever a clever wench, and I willtrust thee; indeed, trust thee I find I must, whether voluntarily orno."

  "Meet me, then," said Alice, "in the wilderness to-morrow. But firsttell me, are you well assured of time and place?--a mistake were fatal."

  "Assure yourself my information is entirely accurate," said the Doctor,resuming his air of consequence, which had been a little diminishedduring the latter part of their conference.

  "May I ask," said Alice, "through what channel you acquired suchimportant information?"

  "You may ask, unquestionably," he answered, now completely restored tohis supremacy; "but whether I will answer or not, is a very differentquestion. I conceive neither your reputation nor my own is interested inyour remaining in ignorance on that subject. So I have my secrets aswell as you, mistress; and some of them, I fancy, are a good deal moreworth knowing."

  "Be it so," said Alice, quietly; "if you will meet me in the wildernessby the broken dial at half-past five exactly, we will go togetherto-morrow, and watch them as they come to the rendezvous. I will on theway get the better of my present timidity, and explain to you the meansI design to employ to prevent mischief. You can perhaps think of makingsome effort which may render my interference, unbecoming and painful asit must be, altogether unnecessary."

  "Nay, my child," said the Doctor, "if you place yourself in my hands,you will be the first that ever had reason to complain of my want ofconduct, and you may well judge you are the very last (one excepted)whom I would see suffer for want of counsel. At half-past five, then, atthe dial in the wilderness--and God bless our undertaking!"

  Here their interview was interrupted by the sonorous voice of Sir HenryLee, which shouted their names, "Daughter Alice--Doctor Rochecliffe,"through passage and gallery.

  "What do you here," said he, entering, "sitting like two crows in amist, when we have such rare sport below? Here is this wildcrack-brained boy Louis Kerneguy, now making me laugh till my sides arefit to split, and now playing on his guitar sweetly enough to win a larkfrom the heavens.--Come away with you, come away. It is hard work tolaugh alone."

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE TWENTY-EIGHTH.

  This is the place, the centre of the grove; Here stands the oak, the monarch of the wood. JOHN HOME.

  The sun had risen on the broad boughs of the forest, but without thepower of penetrating into its recesses, which hung rich with heavydewdrops, and were beginning on some of the trees to exhibit the variedtints of autumn; it being the season when Nature, like a prodigal whoserace is well-nigh run, seems desirous to make up in profuse gaiety andvariety of colours, for the short space which her splendour has then toendure. The birds were silent--and even Robin-redbreast, whosechirruping song was heard among the bushes near the Lodge, emboldened bythe largesses with which the good old knight always encouraged hisfamiliarity, did not venture into the recesses of the wood, where heencountered the sparrow-hawk, and other enemies of a similardescription, preferring the vicinity of the dwellings of man, from whomhe, almost solely among the feathered tribes, seems to experiencedisinterested protection.

  The scene was therefore at once lovely and silent, when the good Dr.Rochecliffe, wrapped in a scarlet roquelaure, which had seen service inits day, muffling his face more from habit than necessity, andsupporting Alice on his arm, (she also defended by a cloak against thecold and damp of the autumn morning,) glided through the tangled andlong grass of the darkest alleys, almost ankle-deep in dew, towards theplace appointed for the intended duel. Both so eagerly maintained theconsultation in which they were engaged, that they were alike insensibleof the roughness and discomforts of the road, though often obliged toforce their way through brushwood and coppice, which poured down on themall the liquid pearls with which they were loaded, till the mantles theywere wrapped in hung lank by their sides, and clung to their shouldersheavily charged with moisture. They stopped when they had attained astation under the coppice, and shrouded by it, from which they could seeall that passed on the little esplanade before the King's Oak, whosebroad and scathed form, contorted and shattered limbs, and frowningbrows, made it appear like some ancient war-worn champion, well selectedto be the umpire of a field of single combat.

  The first person who appeared at the rendezvous was the gay cavalierRoger Wildrake. He also was wrapped in his cloak, but had discarded hispuritanic beaver, and wore in its stead a Spanish hat, with a featherand gilt hatband, all of which had encountered bad weather and hardservice; but to make amends for the appearance of poverty by the show ofpretension, the castor was accurately adjusted after what was ratherprofanely called the d--me cut, used among the more desperate cavaliers.He advanced hastily, and exclaimed aloud--"First in the field after all,by Jove, though I bilked Everard in order to have my morning draught.--It has done me much good," he added, smacking his lips.--"Well, Isuppose I should search the ground ere my principal comes up, whosePresbyterian watch trudges as slow as his Presbyterian step."

  He took his rapier from under his cloak, and seemed about to search thethickets around.

  "I will prevent him," whispered the Doctor to Alice. "I will keep faithwith you--you shall not come on the scene--_nisi dignus vindice nodus_--I'll explain that another time. _Vindex_ is feminine as well asmasculine, so the quotation is defensible.--Keep you close."

  So saying, he stepped forward on the esplanade, and bowed to Wildrake.

  "Master Louis Kerneguy," said Wildrake, pulling off his hat; butinstantly discovering his error, he added, "But no--I beg your pardon,sir--Fatter, shorter, older.--Mr. Kerneguy's friend, I suppose, withwhom I hope to have a turn by and by.--And why not now, sir, before ourprincipals come up? Just a snack to stay the orifice of the stomach,till the dinner is served, sir? What say you?"

  "To open the orifice of the stomach more likely, or to give it a newone," said the Doctor.

  "True, sir," said Roger, who seemed now in his element; "you saywell--that is as thereafter may be.--But come, sir, you wear your facemuffled. I grant you, it is honest men's fashion at this unhappy time;the more is the pity. But we do all above board--we have no traitorshere. I'll get into my gears first, to encourage you, and show you thatyou have to deal with a gentlema
n, who honours the King, and is a matchfit to fight with any who follow him, as doubtless you do, sir, sinceyou are the friend of Master Louis Kerneguy."

  All this while, Wildrake was busied undoing the clasps of hissquare-caped cloak.

  "Off--off, ye lendings," he said, "borrowings I should more properlycall you--"

  So saying, he threw the cloak from him, and appeared in cuerpo, in amost cavalier-like doublet, of greasy crimson satin, pinked and slashedwith what had been once white tiffany; breeches of the same; andnether-stocks, or, as we now call them, stockings, darned in manyplaces, and which, like those of Poins, had been once peach-coloured. Apair of pumps, ill calculated for a walk through the dew, and a broadshoulderbelt of tarnished embroidery, completed his equipment.

  "Come, sir!" he exclaimed; "make haste, off with your slough--Here Istand tight and true--as loyal a lad as ever stuck rapier through aroundhead.--Come, sir, to your tools!" he continued; "we may havehalf-a-dozen thrusts before they come yet, and shame them for theirtardiness.--Pshaw!" he exclaimed, in a most disappointed tone, when theDoctor, unfolding his cloak, showed his clerical dress; "Tush! it's butthe parson after all!"

  Wildrake's respect for the Church, however, and his desire to remove onewho might possibly interrupt a scene to which he looked forward withpeculiar satisfaction, induced him presently to assume another tone.

  "I beg pardon," he said, "my dear Doctor--I kiss the hem of yourcassock--I do, by the thundering Jove--I beg your pardon again.--But Iam happy I have met with you--They are raving for your presence at theLodge--to marry, or christen, or bury, or confess, or something veryurgent.--For Heaven's sake, make haste!"

  "At the Lodge?" said the Doctor; "why, I left the Lodge this instant--Iwas there later, I am sure, than you could be, who came the Woodstockroad."

  "Well," replied Wildrake, "it is at Woodstock they want you.--Rat it,did I say the Lodge?--No, no--Woodstock--Mine host cannot be hanged--hisdaughter married--his bastard christened, or his wife buried--withoutthe assistance of a _real_ clergyman--Your Holdenoughs won't do forthem.--He's a true man mine host; so, as you value your function, makehaste."

  "You will pardon me, Master Wildrake," said the Doctor--"I wait forMaster Louis Kerneguy."

  "The devil you do!" exclaimed Wildrake. "Why, I always knew the Scotscould do nothing without their minister; but d--n it, I never thoughtthey put them to this use neither. But I have known jolly customers inorders, who understood how to handle the sword as well as theirprayer-book. You know the purpose of our meeting, Doctor. Do you comeonly as a ghostly comforter--or as a surgeon, perhaps--or do you evertake bilboa in hand?--Sa--sa!"

  Here he made a fencing demonstration with his sheathed rapier.

  "I have done so, sir, on necessary occasion," said Dr. Rochecliffe.

  "Good sir, let this stand for a necessary one," said Wildrake. "You knowmy devotion for the Church. If a divine of your skill would do me thehonour to exchange but three passes with me, I should think myself happyfor ever."

  "Sir," said Rochecliffe, smiling, "were there no other objection to whatyou propose, I have not the means--I have no weapon."

  "What? you want the _de quoi_? that is unlucky indeed. But you have astout cane in your hand--what hinders our trying a pass (my rapier beingsheathed of course) until our principals come up? My pumps are full ofthis frost-dew; and I shall be a toe or two out of pocket, if I am tostand still all the time they are stretching themselves; for, I fancy,Doctor, you are of my opinion, that the matter will not be a fight ofcock-sparrows."

  "My business here is to make it, if possible, be no fight at all," saidthe divine.

  "Now, rat me, Doctor, but that is too spiteful," said Wildrake; "andwere it not for my respect for the Church, I could turn Presbyterian, tobe revenged."

  "Stand back a little, if you please, sir," said the Doctor; "do notpress forward in that direction."--For Wildrake, in the agitation of hismovements, induced by his disappointment, approached the spot whereAlice remained still concealed.

  "And wherefore not, I pray you, Doctor?" said the cavalier.

  But on advancing a step, he suddenly stopped short, and muttered tohimself, with a round oath of astonishment, "A petticoat in the coppice,by all that is reverend, and at this hour in the morning--_Whew--ew--ew_!"--He gave vent to his surprise in a long lowinterjectional whistle; then turning to the Doctor, with his finger onthe side of his nose, "You're sly, Doctor, d--d sly! But why not give mea hint of your--your commodity there--your contraband goods? Gad, sir, Iam not a man to expose the eccentricities of the Church."

  "Sir," said Dr. Rochecliffe, "you are impertinent; and if time served,and it were worth my while, I would chastise you."

  And the Doctor, who had served long enough in the wars to have addedsome of the qualities of a captain of horse to those of a divine,actually raised his cane, to the infinite delight of the rake, whoserespect for the Church was by no means able to subdue his love ofmischief.

  "Nay, Doctor," said he, "if you wield your weapon broadsword-fashion, inthat way, and raise it as high as your head, I shall be through you in atwinkling." So saying, he made a pass with his sheathed rapier, notprecisely at the Doctor's person, but in that direction; whenRochecliffe, changing the direction of his cane from the broadswordguard to that of the rapier, made the cavalier's sword spring ten yardsout of his hand, with all the dexterity of my friend Francalanza. Atthis moment both the principal parties appeared on the field.

  Everard exclaimed angrily to Wildrake, "Is this your friendship? InHeaven's name, what make you in that fool's jacket, and playing thepranks of a jack-pudding?" while his worthy second, somewhatcrest-fallen, held down his head, like a boy caught in roguery, and wentto pick up his weapon, stretching his head, as he passed, into thecoppice, to obtain another glimpse, if possible, of the concealed objectof his curiosity.

  Charles in the meantime, still more surprised at what he beheld, calledout on his part--"What! Doctor Rochecliffe become literally one of thechurch militant, and tilting with my friend cavalier Wildrake? May I usethe freedom to ask him to withdraw, as Colonel Everard and I have someprivate business to settle?"

  It was Dr. Rochecliffe's cue, on this important occasion, to have armedhimself with the authority of his sacred office, and used a tone ofinterference which might have overawed even a monarch, and made him feelthat his monitor spoke by a warrant higher than his own. But theindiscreet latitude he had just given to his own passion, and the levityin which he had been detected, were very unfavourable to his assumingthat superiority, to which so uncontrollable a spirit as that ofCharles, wilful as a prince, and capricious as a wit, was at all likelyto submit. The Doctor did, however, endeavour to rally his dignity, andreplied, with the gravest, and at the same time the most respectful,tone he could assume, that he also had business of the most urgentnature, which prevented him from complying with Master Kerneguy's wishesand leaving the spot.

  "Excuse this untimely interruption," said Charles, taking off his hat,and bowing to Colonel Everard, "which I will immediately put an end to."Everard gravely returned his salute, and was silent.

  "Are you mad, Doctor Rochecliffe?" said Charles--"or are you deaf?--orhave you forgotten your mother-tongue? I desired you to leave thisplace."

  "I am not mad," said the divine, rousing up his resolution, andregaining the natural firmness of his voice--"I would prevent othersfrom being so; I am not deaf--I would pray others to hear the voice ofreason and religion; I have not forgotten my mother-tongue--but I havecome hither to speak the language of the Master of kings and princes."

  "To fence with broomsticks, I should rather suppose," said the King--"Come, Doctor Rochecliffe, this sudden fit of assumed importance befitsyou as little as your late frolic. You are not, I apprehend, either aCatholic priest or a Scotch Mass-John to claim devoted obedience fromyour hearers, but a Church-of-England-man, subject to the rules of thatCommunion--and to its HEAD." In speaking the last words, the Kinglowered his voice to a low and impressive whisper. Everard obs
ervingthis drew back, the natural generosity of his temper directing him toavoid overhearing private discourse, in which the safety of the speakersmight be deeply concerned. They continued, however, to observe greatcaution in their forms of expression.

  "Master Kerneguy," said the clergyman, "it is not I who assume authorityor control over your wishes--God forbid; I do but tell you what reason,Scripture, religion, and morality, alike prescribe for your rule ofconduct."

  "And I, Doctor," said the King, smiling, and pointing to the unluckycane, "will take your example rather than your precept. If a reverendclergyman will himself fight a bout at single-stick, what right can hehave to interfere in gentlemen's quarrels?--Come, sir, remove yourself,and do not let your present obstinacy cancel former obligations."

  "Bethink yourself," said the divine,--"I can say one word which willprevent all this."

  "Do it," replied the King, "and in doing so belie the whole tenor andactions of an honourable life--abandon the principles of your Church,and become a perjured traitor and an apostate, to prevent another personfrom discharging his duty as a gentleman! This were indeed killing yourfriend to prevent the risk of his running himself into danger. Let thePassive Obedience, which is so often in your mouth, and no doubt in yourhead, put your feet for once into motion, and step aside for tenminutes. Within that space your assistance may be needed, either asbody-curer or soul-curer."

  "Nay, then," said Dr. Rochecliffe, "I have but one argument left."

  While this conversation was carried on apart, Everard had almostforcibly detained by his own side his follower, Wildrake, whose greatercuriosity, and lesser delicacy, would otherwise have thrust him forward,to get, if possible, into the secret. But when he saw the Doctor turninto the coppice, he whispered eagerly to Everard--"A gold Carolus to acommonwealth farthing, the Doctor has not only come to preach a peace,but has brought the principal conditions along with him!"

  Everard made no answer; he had already unsheathed his sword; and Charleshardly saw Rochecliffe's back fairly turned, than he lost no time infollowing his example. But, ere they had done more than salute eachother, with the usual courteous nourish of their weapons, Dr.Rochecliffe again stood between them, leading in his hand Alice Lee, hergarments dank with dew, and her long hair heavy with moisture, andtotally uncurled. Her face was extremely pale, but it was the palenessof desperate resolution, not of fear. There was a dead pause ofastonishment--the combatants rested on their swords--and even theforwardness of Wildrake only vented itself in half-suppressedejaculations, as, "Well done, Doctor--this beats the 'parson among thepease'--No less than your patron's daughter--And Mistress Alice, whom Ithought a very snowdrop, turned out a dog-violet after all--aLindabrides, by heavens, and altogether one of ourselves."

  Excepting these unheeded mutterings, Alice was the first to speak.

  "Master Everard," she said--"Master Kerneguy, you are surprised to seeme here--Yet, why should I not tell the reason at once? Convinced that Iam, however guiltlessly, the unhappy cause of your misunderstanding, Iam too much interested to prevent fatal consequences to pause upon anystep which may end it.--Master Kerneguy, have my wishes, my entreaties,my prayers--have your noble thoughts--the recollections of your own highduties, no weight with you in this matter? Let me entreat you to consultreason, religion, and common sense, and return your weapon."

  "I am obedient as an Eastern slave, madam," answered Charles, sheathinghis sword; "but I assure you, the matter about which you distressyourself is a mere trifle, which will be much better settled betwixtColonel Everard and myself in five minutes, than with the assistance ofthe whole Convocation of the Church, with a female parliament to assisttheir reverend deliberations.--Mr. Everard, will you oblige me bywalking a little farther?--We must change ground, it seems."

  "I am ready to attend you, sir," said Everard, who had sheathed hissword so soon as his antagonist did so.

  "I have then no interest with you, sir," said Alice, continuing toaddress the King--"Do you not fear I should use the secret in my powerto prevent this affair going to extremity? Think you this gentleman, whoraises his hand against you, if he knew"--

  "If he knew that I were Lord Wilmot, you would say?--Accident has givenhim proof to that effect, with which he is already satisfied, and Ithink you would find it difficult to induce him to embrace a differentopinion."

  Alice paused, and looked on the King with great indignation, thefollowing words dropping from her mouth by intervals, as if they burstforth one by one in spite of feelings that would have restrainedthem--"Cold--selfish--ungrateful--unkind!--Woe to the land which"--Hereshe paused with marked emphasis, then added--"which shall number thee,or such as thee, among her nobles and rulers!"

  "Nay, fair Alice," said Charles, whose good nature could not but feelthe severity of this reproach, though too slightly to make all thedesired impression, "You are too unjust to me--too partial to a happierman. Do not call me unkind; I am but here to answer Mr. Everard'ssummons. I could neither decline attending, nor withdraw now I am here,without loss of honour; and my loss of honour would be a disgrace whichmust extend to many--I cannot fly from Mr. Everard--it would be tooshameful. If he abides by his message, it must be decided as suchaffairs usually are. If he retreats or yields it up, I will, for yoursake, wave punctilio. I will not even ask an apology for the trouble ithas afforded me, but let all pass as if it were the consequence of someunhappy mistake, the grounds of which shall remain on my part unenquiredinto.--This I will do for your sake, and it is much for a man of honourto condescend so far--You know that the condescension from me inparticular is great indeed. Then do not call me ungenerous, orungrateful, or unkind, since I am ready to do all, which, as a man, Ican do, and more perhaps than as a man of honour I ought to do."

  "Do you hear this, Markham Everard?" exclaimed Alice--"do you hearthis?--The dreadful option is left entirely at your disposal. You werewont to be temperate in passion, religious, forgiving--will you, for amere punctilio, drive on this private and unchristian broil to amurderous extremity? Believe me, if you now, contrary to all the betterprinciples of your life, give the reins to your passions, theconsequences may be such as you will rue for your lifetime, and even, ifHeaven have not mercy, rue after your life is finished."

  Markham Everard remained for a moment gloomily silent,--with his eyesfixed on the ground. At length he looked up, and answered her--"Alice,you are a soldier's daughter--a soldier's sister. All your relations,even including one whom you then entertained some regard for, have beenmade soldiers by these unhappy discords. Yet you have seen them take thefield--in some instances on contrary sides, to do their duty where theirprinciples called them, without manifesting this extreme degree ofinterest."

  He continued, "However, what is the true concern here is our relationswith your own self, and mine is with this gentleman's interest in you. Ihad expected that our disagreement could be dealt with as men disputematters of honor. With your intrusion this cannot be done. I have fewother options for politely resolving this, for you would surely hate theone who killed the other, to the loss of us both. Therefore," addressingCharles, "in the interest of avoid this fate, I am forced to yield myinterest in her to you; and, as I will never be the means of giving herpain, I trust you will not think I act unworthily in retracting theletter which gave you the trouble of attending this place at thishour.--Alice," he said, turning his head towards her, "Farewell, Alice,at once, and for ever!"

  The poor young lady, whose adventitious spirit had almost deserted her,attempted to repeat the word farewell, but failing in the attempt, onlyaccomplished a broken and imperfect sound, and would have sunk to theground, but for Dr. Rochecliffe, who caught her as she fell. RogerWildrake, also, who had twice or thrice put to his eyes what remained ofa kerchief, interested by the lady's evident distress, though unable tocomprehend the mysterious cause, hastened to assist the divine insupporting so fair a burden.

  Meanwhile, the disguised Prince had beheld the whole in silence, butwith an agitation to which he was unwonted, a
nd which his swarthyfeatures, and still more his motions, began to betray. His posture wasat first absolutely stationary, with his arms folded on his bosom, asone who waits to be guided by the current of events; presently after, heshifted his position, advanced and retired his foot, clenched and openedhis hand, and otherwise showed symptoms that he was strongly agitated bycontending feelings--was on the point, too, of forming some suddenresolution, and yet still in uncertainty what course he should pursue.

  But when he saw Markham Everard, after one look of unspeakable anguishtowards Alice, turning his back to depart, he broke out into hisfamiliar ejaculation, "Oddsfish! this must not be." In three strides heovertook the slowly retiring Everard, tapped him smartly on theshoulder, and, as he turned round, said, with an air of command, whichhe well knew how to adopt at pleasure, "One word with you, sir."

  "At your pleasure, sir," replied Everard; and naturally conjecturing thepurpose of his antagonist to be hostile, took hold of his rapier withthe left hand, and laid the right on the hilt, not displeased at thesupposed call; for anger is at least as much akin to disappointment aspity is said to be to love.

  "Pshaw!" answered the King, "that cannot be _now_--Colonel Everard, I amCHARLES STEWART!"

  Everard recoiled in the greatest surprise, and nextexclaimed, "Impossible--it cannot be! The King of Scots has escaped fromBristol.--My Lord Wilmot, your talents for intrigue are well known; butthis will not pass upon me."

  "The King of Scots, Master Everard," replied Charles, "since you are sopleased to limit his sovereignty--at any rate, the Eldest Son of thelate Sovereign of Britain--is now before you; therefore it is impossiblehe could have escaped from Bristol. Doctor Rochecliffe shall be myvoucher, and will tell you, moreover, that Wilmot is of a faircomplexion and light hair; mine, you may see, is swart as a raven."

  Rochecliffe, seeing what was passing, abandoned Alice to the care ofWildrake, whose extreme delicacy in the attempts he made to bring herback to life, formed an amiable contrast to his usual wildness, andoccupied him so much, that he remained for the moment ignorant of thedisclosure in which he would have been so much interested. As for Dr.Rochecliffe, he came forward, wringing his hands in all thedemonstration of extreme anxiety, and with the usual exclamationsattending such a state.

  "Peace, Doctor Rochecliffe!" said the King, with such completeself-possession as indeed became a prince; "we are in the hands, I amsatisfied, of a man of honour. Master Everard must be pleased in findingonly a fugitive prince in the person in whom he thought he haddiscovered a successful rival. He cannot but be aware of the feelingswhich prevented me from taking advantage of the cover which this younglady's devoted loyalty afforded me, at the risk of her own happiness. Heis the party who is to profit by my candour; and certainly I have aright to expect that my condition, already indifferent enough, shall notbe rendered worse by his becoming privy to it under such circumstances.At any rate, the avowal is made; and it is for Colonel Everard toconsider how he is to conduct himself."

  "Oh, your Majesty! my Liege! my King! my royal Prince!" exclaimedWildrake, who, at length discovering what was passing, had crawled onhis knees, and seizing the King's hand, was kissing it, more like achild mumbling gingerbread, or like a lover devouring the yielded handof his mistress, than in the manner in which such salutations pass atcourt--"If my dear friend Mark Everard should prove a dog on thisoccasion, rely on me I will cut his throat on the spot, were I to do thesame for myself the moment afterwards!"

  "Hush, hush, my good friend and loyal subject," said the King, "andcompose yourself; for though I am obliged to put on the Prince for amoment, we have not privacy or safety to receive our subjects in KingCambyses' vein."

  Everard, who had stood for a time utterly confounded, awoke at lengthlike a man from a dream.

  "Sire," he said, bowing low, and with profound deference, "if I do notoffer you the homage of a subject with knee and sword, it is becauseGod, by whom kings reign, has denied you for the present the power ofascending your throne without rekindling civil war. For your safetybeing endangered by me, let not such an imagination for an instant crossyour mind. Had I not respected your person--were I not bound to you forthe candour with which your noble avowal has prevented the misery of myfuture life, your misfortunes would have rendered your person as sacred,so far as I can protect it, as it could be esteemed by the most devotedroyalist in the kingdom. If your plans are soundly considered, andsecurely laid, think that all which is now passed is but a dream. Ifthey are in such a state that I can aid them, saving my duty to theCommonwealth, which will permit me to be privy to no schemes of actualviolence, your Majesty may command my services."

  "It may be I may be troublesome to you, sir," said the King; "for myfortunes are not such as to permit me to reject even the most limitedoffers of assistance; but if I can, I will dispense with applying toyou. I would not willingly put any man's compassion at war with hissense of duty on my account.--Doctor, I think there will be no farthertilting to-day, either with sword or cane; so we may as well return tothe Lodge, and leave these"--looking at Alice and Everard--"who may havemore to say in explanation."

  "No--no!" exclaimed Alice, who was now perfectly come to herself, andpartly by her own observation, and partly from the report of Dr.Rochecliffe, comprehended all that had taken place--"My cousin Everardand I have nothing to explain; he will forgive me for having riddledwith him when I dared not speak plainly; and I forgive him for havingread my riddle wrong. But my father has my promise--we must notcorrespond or converse for the present--I return instantly to the Lodge,and he to Woodstock, unless you, sire," bowing to the King, "command hisduty otherwise. Instant to the town, Cousin Markham; and if dangershould approach, give us warning."

  Everard would have delayed her departure, would have excused himself forhis unjust suspicion, would have said a thousand things; but she wouldnot listen to him, saying, for all other answer,--"Farewell, Markham,till God send better days!"

  "She is an angel of truth and beauty," said Roger Wildrake; "and I, likea blasphemous heretic, called her a Lindabrides!" [Footnote: A sort ofcourt name for a female of no reputation.] But has your Majesty, cravingyour pardon, no commands for poor Hodge Wildrake, who will blow out hisown or any other man's brains in England, to do your Grace a pleasure?"

  "We entreat our good friend Wildrake to do nothing hastily," saidCharles, smiling; "such brains as his are rare, and should not be rashlydispersed, as the like may not be easily collected. We recommend him tobe silent and prudent--to tilt no more with loyal clergymen of theChurch of England, and to get himself a new jacket with all convenientspeed, to which we beg to contribute our royal aid. When fit time comes,we hope to find other service for him."

  As he spoke, he slid ten pieces into the hand of poor Wildrake, who,confounded with the excess of his loyal gratitude, blubbered like achild, and would have followed the King, had not Dr. Rochecliffe, in fewwords, but peremptory, insisted that he should return with his patron,promising him he should certainly be employed in assisting the King'sescape, could an opportunity be found of using his services.

  "Be so generous, reverend sir, and you bind me to you for ever," saidthe cavalier; "and I conjure you not to keep malice against me onaccount of the foolery you wot of."

  "I have no occasion, Captain Wildrake," said the Doctor, "for I think Ihad the best of it."

  "Well, then, Doctor, I forgive you on my part: and I pray you, forChristian charity, let me have a finger in this good service; for as Ilive in hope of it, rely that I shall die of disappointment."

  While the Doctor and soldier thus spoke together, Charles took leave ofEverard, (who remained uncovered while he spoke to him,) with his usualgrace--"I need not bid you no longer be jealous of me," said the King;"for I presume you will scarce think of a match betwixt Alice and me,which would be too losing a one on her side. For other thoughts, thewildest libertine could not entertain them towards so high-minded acreature; and believe me, that my sense of her merit did not need thislast distinguished proof of h
er truth and loyalty. I saw enough of herfrom her answers to some idle sallies of gallantry, to know with what alofty character she is endowed. Mr. Everard, her happiness I see dependson you, and I trust you will be the careful guardian of it. If we cantake any obstacle out of the way of your joint happiness, be assured wewill use our influence.--Farewell, sir; if we cannot be better friends,do not at least let us entertain harder or worse thoughts of each otherthan we have now."

  There was something in the manner of Charles that was extremelyaffecting; something too, in his condition as a fugitive in the kingdomwhich was his own by inheritance, that made a direct appeal to Everard'sbosom--though in contradiction to the dictates of that policy which hejudged it his duty to pursue in the distracted circumstances of thecountry. He remained, as we have said, uncovered; and in his mannertestified the highest expression of reverence, up to the point when suchmight seem a symbol of allegiance. He bowed so low as almost to approachhis lips to the hand of Charles--but he did not kiss it.--"I wouldrescue your person, sir," he said, "with the purchase of my own life.More"--He stopped short, and the King took up his sentence where itbroke off--"More you cannot do," said Charles, "to maintain anhonourable consistency--but what you have said is enough. You cannotrender homage to my proffered hand as that of a sovereign, but you willnot prevent my taking yours as a friend--if you allow me to call myselfso--I am sure, as a well-wisher at least."

  The generous soul of Everard was touched--He took the King's hand, andpressed it to his lips.

  "Oh!" he said, "were better times to come"--

  "Bind yourself to nothing, dear Everard," said the good-natured Prince,partaking his emotion--"We reason ill while our feelings are moved. Iwill recruit no man to his loss, nor will I have my fallen fortunesinvolve those of others, because they have humanity enough to pity mypresent condition. If better times come, why we will meet again, and Ihope to our mutual satisfaction. If not, as your future father-in-lawwould say," (a benevolent smile came over his face, and accorded notunmeetly with his glistening eyes,)--"If not, this parting was wellmade."

  Everard turned away with a deep bow, almost choking under contendingfeelings; the uppermost of which was a sense of the generosity withwhich Charles, at his own imminent risk, had cleared away the darknessthat seemed about to overwhelm his prospects of happiness for life--mixed with a deep sense of the perils by which he was environed. Hereturned to the little town, followed by his attendant Wildrake, whoturned back so often, with weeping eyes, and hands clasped and upliftedas supplicating Heaven, that Everard was obliged to remind him that hisgestures might be observed by some one, and occasion suspicion.

  The generous conduct of the King during the closing part of thisremarkable scene, had not escaped Alice's notice; and, erasing at oncefrom her mind all resentment of Charles's former conduct, and all thesuspicions they had deservedly excited, awakened in her bosom a sense ofthe natural goodness of his disposition, which permitted her to uniteregard for his person, with that reverence for his high office in whichshe had been educated as a portion of her creed. She felt convinced, anddelighted with the conviction, that his virtues were his own, hislibertinism the fault of education, or rather want of education, and thecorrupting advice of sycophants and flatterers. She could not know, orperhaps did not in that moment consider, that in a soil where no care istaken to eradicate tares, they will outgrow and smother the wholesomeseed, even if the last is more natural to the soil. For, as Dr.Rochecliffe informed her afterwards for her edification, promising, aswas his custom, to explain the precise words on some future occasion, ifshe would put him in mind--_Virtus rectorem ducemque desiderat; Vitiasine magistro discuntur_. [Footnote: The quotations of the learneddoctor and antiquary were often left uninterpreted, though seldomincommunicated, owing to his contempt for those who did not understandthe learned languages, and his dislike to the labour of translation, forthe benefit of ladies and of country gentlemen. That fair readers andcountry thanes may not on this occasion burst in ignorance, we add themeaning of the passage in the text--"Virtue requires the aid of agovernor and director; vices are learned without a teacher."] There wasno room for such reflections at present. Conscious of mutual sincerity,by a sort of intellectual communication, through which individuals areled to understand each other better, perhaps, in delicate circumstances,than by words, reserve and simulation appeared to be now banished fromthe intercourse between the King and Alice. With manly frankness, and,at the same time, with princely condescension, he requested her,exhausted as she was, to accept of his arm on the way homeward, insteadof that of Dr. Rochecliffe; and Alice accepted of his support withmodest humility, but without a shadow of mistrust or fear. It seemed asif the last half hour had satisfied them perfectly with the character ofeach other, and that each had full conviction of the purity andsincerity of the other's intentions.

  Dr. Rochecliffe, in the meantime, had fallen some four or five pacesbehind; for, less light and active than Alice, (who had, besides, theassistance of the King's support,) he was unable, without effort anddifficulty, to keep up with the pace of Charles, who then was, as wehave elsewhere noticed, one of the best walkers in England, and wassometimes apt to forget (as great men will) that others were inferior tohim in activity.

  "Dear Alice," said the King, but as if the epithet were entirelyfraternal, "I like your Everard much--I would to God he were of ourdetermination--But since that cannot be, I am sure he will prove agenerous enemy." "May it please you, sire," said Alice, modestly, butwith some firmness, "my cousin will never be your Majesty's personalenemy--and he is one of the few on whose slightest word you may relymore than on the oath of those who profess more strongly and formally.He is utterly incapable of abusing your Majesty's most generous andvoluntary confidence."

  "On my honour, I believe so, Alice," replied the King: "But oddsfish! mygirl, let Majesty sleep for the present--it concerns my safety, as Itold your brother lately--Call me sir, then, which belongs alike toking, peer, knight, and gentleman--or rather let me be wild LouisKerneguy again." Alice looked down, and shook her head. "That cannot be,please your Majesty."

  "What! Louis was a saucy companion--a naughty presuming boy--and youcannot abide him?--Well, perhaps you are right--But we will wait for Dr.Rochecliffe"--he said, desirous, with good-natured delicacy, to makeAlice aware that he had no purpose of engaging her in any discussionwhich could recall painful ideas. They paused accordingly, and again shefelt relieved and grateful.

  "I cannot persuade our fair friend, Mistress Alice, Doctor," said theKing, "that she must, in prudence, forbear using titles of respect tome, while there are such very slender means of sustaining them."

  "It is a reproach to earth and to fortune," answered the divine, as fastas his recovered breath would permit him, "that your most sacredMajesty's present condition should not accord with the rendering ofthose honours which are your own by birth, and which, with God'sblessing on the efforts of your loyal subjects, I hope to see renderedto you as your hereditary right, by the universal voice of the threekingdoms."

  "True, Doctor," replied the King; "but, in the meanwhile, can youexpound to Mistress Alice Lee two lines of Horace, which I have carriedin my thick head several years, till now they have come pat to mypurpose. As my canny subjects of Scotland say, If you keep a thing sevenyears you are sure to find a use for it at last--_Telephus_--ay, so itbegins--

  'Telephus et Peleus, cum pauper et exul uterque, Projicit ampullas et sesquipedalia verba.'"

  "I will explain the passage to Mistress Alice," said the Doctor, "whenshe reminds me of it--or rather," (he added, recollecting that hisordinary dilatory answer on such occasions ought not to be returned whenthe order for exposition emanated from his Sovereign,) "I will repeat apoor couplet from my own translation of the poem--

  'Heroes and kings, in exile forced to roam. Leave swelling phrase and seven-leagued words at home.'"

  "A most admirable version, Doctor," said Charles; "I feel all its force,and particularly the beautiful rendering of sesquip
edalia verba intoseven-leagued boots--words I mean--it reminds me, like half the things Imeet with in this world, of the _Contes de Commere L'Oye_." [Footnote:Tales of Mother Goose.]

  Thus conversing they reached the Lodge; and as the King went to hischamber to prepare for the breakfast summons, now impending, the ideacrossed his mind, "Wilmot, and Villiers, and Killigrew, would laugh atme, did they hear of a campaign in which neither man nor woman had beenconquered--But, oddsfish! let them laugh as they will, there issomething at my heart which tells me, that for once in my life I haveacted well."

  That day and the next were spent in tranquillity, the King waitingimpatiently for the intelligence, which was to announce to him that avessel was prepared somewhere on the coast. None such was yet inreadiness; but he learned that the indefatigable Albert Lee was, atgreat personal risk, traversing the sea-coast from town to village, andendeavouring to find means of embarkation among the friends of the royalcause, and the correspondents of Dr. Rochecliffe.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE TWENTY-NINTH.

  Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch! TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

  At this time we should give some account of the other actors in ourdrama, the interest due to the principal personages having for some timeengrossed our attention exclusively.

  We are, therefore, to inform the reader, that the lingering longings ofthe Commissioners, who had been driven forth of their proposed paradiseof Woodstock, not by a cherub indeed, but, as they thought, by spiritsof another sort, still detained them in the vicinity. They had, indeed,left the little borough under pretence of indifferent accommodation. Themore palpable reasons were, that they entertained some resentmentagainst Everard, as the means of their disappointment, and had no mindto reside where their proceedings could be overlooked by him, althoughthey took leave in terms of the utmost respect. They went, however, nofarther than Oxford, and remained there, as ravens, who are accustomedto witness the chase, sit upon a tree or crag, at a little distance, andwatch the disembowelling of the deer, expecting the relics which fall totheir share. Meantime, the University and City, but especially theformer, supplied them with some means of employing their variousfaculties to advantage, until the expected moment, when, as they hoped,they should either be summoned to Windsor, or Woodstock should once morebe abandoned to their discretion.

  Bletson, to pass the time, vexed the souls of such learned and piousdivines and scholars, as he could intrude his hateful presence upon, bysophistry, atheistical discourse, and challenges to them to impugn themost scandalous theses. Desborough, one of the most brutally ignorantmen of the period, got himself nominated the head of a college, and lostno time in cutting down trees, and plundering plate. As for Harrison, hepreached in full uniform in Saint Mary's Church, wearing his buff-coat,boots, and spurs, as if he were about to take the field for the fight atArmageddon. And it was hard to say, whether the seat of Learning,Religion, and Loyalty, as it is called by Clarendon, was more vexed bythe rapine of Desborough, the cold scepticism of Bletson, or the franticenthusiasm of the Fifth-Monarchy Champion.

  Ever and anon, soldiers, under pretence of relieving guard, orotherwise, went and came betwixt Woodstock and Oxford, and maintained,it may be supposed, a correspondence with Trusty Tomkins, who, though hechiefly resided in the town of Woodstock, visited the Lodgeoccasionally, and to whom, therefore, they doubtless trusted forinformation concerning the proceedings there.

  Indeed, this man Tomkins seemed by some secret means to have gained theconfidence in part, if not in whole, of almost every one connected withthese intrigues. All closeted him, all conversed with him in private;those who had the means propitiated him with gifts, those who had notwere liberal of promises. When he chanced to appear at Woodstock, whichalways seemed as it were by accident--if he passed through the hall, theknight was sure to ask him to take the foils, and was equally certain tobe, after less or more resistance, victorious in the encounter; so, inconsideration of so many triumphs, the good Sir Henry almost forgave himthe sins of rebellion and puritanism. Then, if his slow and formal stepwas heard in the passages approaching the gallery, Dr. Rochecliffe,though he never introduced him to his peculiar boudoir, was sure to meetMaster Tomkins in some neutral apartment, and to engage him in longconversations, which apparently had great interest for both.

  Neither was the Independent's reception below stairs less gracious thanabove. Joceline failed not to welcome him with the most cordialfrankness; the pasty and the flagon were put in immediate requisition,and good cheer was the general word. The means for this, it may beobserved, had grown more plenty at Woodstock since the arrival of Dr.Rochecliffe, who, in quality of agent for several royalists, had varioussums of money at his disposal. By these funds it is likely that TrustyTomkins also derived his own full advantage.

  In his occasional indulgence in what he called a fleshly frailty, (andfor which he said he had a privilege,) which was in truth an attachmentto strong liquors, and that in no moderate degree, his language, atother times remarkably decorous and reserved, became wild and animated.He sometimes talked with all the unction of an old debauchee, of formerexploits, such as deer-stealing, orchard-robbing, drunken gambols, anddesperate affrays in which he had been engaged in the earlier part ofhis life, sung bacchanalian and amorous ditties, dwelt sometimes uponadventures which drove Phoebe Mayflower from the company, and penetratedeven the deaf ears of Dame Jellicot, so as to make the buttery in whichhe held his carousals no proper place for the poor old woman.

  In the middle of these wild rants, Tomkins twice or thrice suddenly raninto religious topics, and spoke mysteriously, but with great animation,and a rich eloquence, on the happy and pre-eminent saints, who weresaints, as he termed them, indeed--Men who had stormed the innertreasure-house of Heaven, and possessed themselves of its choicestjewels. All other sects he treated with the utmost contempt, as merelyquarrelling, as he expressed it, like hogs over a trough about husks andacorns; under which derogatory terms, he included alike the usual ritesand ceremonies of public devotion, the ordinances of the establishedchurches of Christianity, and the observances, nay, the forbearances,enjoined by every class of Christians. Scarcely hearing, and not at allunderstanding him, Joceline, who seemed his most frequent confidant onsuch occasions, generally led him back into some strain of rude mirth,or old recollection of follies before the Civil Wars, without caringabout or endeavouring to analyze the opinion of this saint of an evilfashion, but fully sensible of the protection which his presenceafforded at Woodstock, and confident in the honest meaning of sofreespoken a fellow, to whom ale and brandy, when better liquor was notto be come by, seemed to be principal objects of life, and who drank ahealth to the King, or any one else, whenever required, provided the cupin which he was to perform the libation were but a brimmer.

  These peculiar doctrines, which were entertained by a sect sometimestermed the Family of Love, but more commonly Ranters, had made someprogress in times when such variety of religious opinions wereprevalent, that men pushed the jarring heresies to the verge of absoluteand most impious insanity. Secrecy had been enjoined on these franticbelievers in a most blasphemous doctrine, by the fear of consequences,should they come to be generally announced; and it was the care ofMaster Tomkins to conceal the spiritual freedom which he pretended tohave acquired, from all whose resentment would have been stirred by hispublic avowal of them. This was not difficult; for their profession offaith permitted, nay, required their occasional conformity with thesectaries or professors of any creed which chanced to be uppermost.

  Tomkins had accordingly the art to pass himself on Dr. Rochecliffe asstill a zealous member of the Church of England, though serving underthe enemy's colours, as a spy in their camp; and as he had on severaltimes given him true and valuable intelligence, this active intriguerwas the more easily induced to believe his professions.

  Nevertheless, lest this person's occasional presence at the Lodge, whichthere were perhaps no means to prevent without exciting
suspicion,should infer danger to the King's person, Rochecliffe, whateverconfidence he otherwise reposed in him, recommended that, if possible,the King should keep always out of his sight, and when accidentallydiscovered, that he should only appear in the character of LouisKerneguy. Joseph Tomkins, he said, was, he really believed, Honest Joe;but honesty was a horse which might be overburdened, and there was nouse in leading our neighbour into temptation.

  It seemed as if Tomkins himself had acquiesced in this limitation ofconfidence exercised towards him, or that he wished to seem blinder thanhe really was to the presence of this stranger in the family. Itoccurred to Joceline, who was a very shrewd fellow, that once or twice,when by inevitable accident Tomkins had met Kerneguy, he seemed lessinterested in the circumstance than he would have expected from theman's disposition, which was naturally prying and inquisitive. "He askedno questions about the young stranger," said Joceline--"God avert thathe knows or suspects too much!" But his suspicions were removed, when,in the course of their subsequent conversation, Joseph Tomkins mentionedthe King's escape from Bristol as a thing positively certain, and namedboth the vessel in which, he said, he had gone off, and the master whocommanded her, seeming so convinced of the truth of the report, thatJoceline judged it impossible he could have the slightest suspicion ofthe reality.

  Yet, notwithstanding this persuasion, and the comradeship which had beenestablished between them, the faithful under-keeper resolved to maintaina strict watch over his gossip Tomkins, and be in readiness to give thealarm should occasion arise. True, he thought, he had reason to believethat his said friend, notwithstanding his drunken and enthusiasticrants, was as trustworthy as he was esteemed by Dr. Rochecliffe; yetstill he was an adventurer, the outside and lining of whose cloak wereof different colours, and a high reward, and pardon for past acts ofmalignancy, might tempt him once more to turn his tippet. For thesereasons Joceline kept a strict, though unostentatious watch over TrustyTomkins.

  We have said, that the discreet seneschal was universally well receivedat Woodstock, whether in the borough or at the Lodge, and that evenJoceline Joliffe was anxious to conceal any suspicions which he couldnot altogether repress, under a great show of cordial hospitality. Therewere, however, two individuals, who, for very different reasons,nourished personal dislike against the individual so generallyacceptable.

  One was Nehemiah Holdenough, who remembered, with great bitterness ofspirit, the Independent's violent intrusion into his pulpit, and whoever spoke of him in private as a lying missionary, into whom Satan hadput a spirit of delusion; and preached, besides, a solemn sermon on thesubject of the false prophet, out of whose mouth came frogs. Thediscourse was highly prized by the Mayor and most of the better class,who conceived that their minister had struck a heavy blow at the veryroot of Independency. On the other hand, those of the private spiritcontended, that Joseph Tomkins had made a successful and triumphantrally, in an exhortation on the evening of the same day, in which heproved, to the conviction of many handicraftsmen, that the passage inJeremiah, "The prophets prophesy falsely, and the priests bare rule bytheir means," was directly applicable to the Presbyterian system ofchurch government. The clergyman dispatched an account of hisadversary's conduct to the Reverend Master Edwards, to be inserted inthe next edition of Gangraena, as a pestilent heretic; and Tomkinsrecommended the parson to his master, Desborough, as a good subject onwhom to impose a round fine, for vexing the private spirit; assuringhim, at the same time, that though the minister might seem poor, yet ifa few troopers were quartered on him till the fine was paid, every richshopkeeper's wife in the borough would rob the till, rather than gowithout the mammon of unrighteousness with which to redeem their priestfrom sufferance; holding, according to his expression, with Laban, "Youhave taken from me my gods, and what have I more?" There was, of course,little cordiality between the polemical disputants, when religiousdebate took so worldly a turn.

  But Joe Tomkins was much more concerned at the evil opinion which seemedto be entertained against him, by one whose good graces he was greatlymore desirous to obtain than those of Nehemiah Holdenough. This was noother than pretty Mistress Phoebe Mayflower, for whose conversion he hadfelt a strong vocation, ever since his lecture upon Shakspeare on theirfirst meeting at the Lodge. He seemed desirous, however, to carry onthis more serious work in private, and especially to conceal his laboursfrom his friend Joceline Joliffe, lest, perchance, he had been addictedto jealousy. But it was in vain that he plied the faithful damsel,sometimes with verses from the Canticles, sometimes with quotations fromGreen's Arcadia, or pithy passages from Venus and Adonis, and doctrinesof a nature yet more abstruse, from the popular work entitledAristotle's Masterpiece. Unto no wooing of his, sacred or profane,metaphysical or physical, would Phoebe Mayflower seriously incline.

  The maiden loved Joceline Joliffe, on the one hand; and, on the other,if she disliked Joseph Tomkins when she first saw him, as a rebelliouspuritan, she had not been at all reconciled by finding reason to regardhim as a hypocritical libertine. She hated him in both capacities--neverendured his conversation when she could escape from it--and when obligedto remain, listened to him only because she knew he had been so deeplytrusted, that to offend him might endanger the security of the family,in the service of which she had been born and bred up, and to whoseinterest she was devoted. For reasons somewhat similar, she did notsuffer her dislike of the steward to become manifest before JocelineJoliffe, whose spirit, as a forester and a soldier, might have beenlikely to bring matters to an arbitrement, in which the _couteau dechasse_ and quarterstaff of her favourite, would have been too unequallymatched with the long rapier and pistols which his dangerous rivalalways carried about his person. But it is difficult to blind jealousy--when there is any cause of doubt; and perhaps the sharp watch maintainedby Joceline on his comrade, was prompted not only by his zeal for theKing's safety, but by some vague suspicion that Tomkins was not illdisposed to poach upon his own fair manor.

  Phoebe, in the meanwhile, like a prudent girl, sheltered herself as muchas possible by the presence of Goody Jellicot. Then, indeed, it is truethe Independent, or whatever he was, used to follow her with hisaddresses to very little purpose; for Phoebe seemed as deaf, throughwilfulness, as the old matron by natural infirmity. This indifferencehighly incensed her new lover, and induced him anxiously to watch for atime and place, in which he might plead his suit with an energy thatshould command attention. Fortune, that malicious goddess, who so oftenruins us by granting the very object of our vows, did at length procurehim such an opportunity as he had long coveted.

  It was about sunset, or shortly after, when Phoebe, upon whose activitymuch of the domestic arrangements depended, went as far as fairRosamond's spring to obtain water for the evening meal, or rather togratify the prejudice of the old knight, who believed that celebratedfountain afforded the choicest supplies of the necessary element. Suchwas the respect in which he was held by his whole family, that toneglect any of his wishes that could be gratified, though withinconvenience to themselves, would, in their estimation, have beenalmost equal to a breach of religious duty.

  To fill the pitcher had, we know, been of late a troublesome task; butJoceline's ingenuity had so far rendered it easy, by repairing rudely apart of the ruined front of the ancient fountain, that the water wascollected, and trickling along a wooden spout, dropped from a height ofabout two feet. A damsel was thereby enabled to place her pitcher underthe slowly dropping supply, and, without toil to herself, might waittill her vessel was filled.

  Phoebe Mayflower, on the evening we allude to, saw, for the first time,this little improvement; and, justly considering it as a piece ofgallantry of her silvan admirer, designed to save her the trouble ofperforming her task in a more inconvenient manner, she gratefullyemployed the minutes of ease which the contrivance procured her, inreflecting on the good-nature and ingenuity of the obliging engineer,and perhaps in thinking he might have done as wisely to have waited tillshe came to the fountain, that he might have secured person
al thanks forthe trouble he had taken. But then she knew he was detained in thebuttery with that odious Tomkins, and rather than have seen theIndependent along with him, she would have renounced the thought ofmeeting Joceline.

  As she was thus reflecting, Fortune was malicious enough to send Tomkinsto the fountain, and without Joceline. When she saw his figure darkenthe path up which he came, an anxious reflection came over the poormaiden's breast, that she was alone, and within the verge of the forest,where in general persons were prohibited to come during the twilight,for fear of disturbing the deer settling to their repose. She encouragedherself, however, and resolved to show no sense of fear, although, asthe steward approached, there was something in the man's look and eye noway calculated to allay her apprehensions.

  "The blessings of the evening upon you, my pretty maiden," he said. "Imeet you even as the chief servant of Abraham, who was a steward likemyself, met Rebecca, the daughter of Bethuel, the son of Milcah, at thewell of the city of Nahor, in Mesopotamia. Shall I not, therefore, sayto you, set down thy pitcher that I may drink?"

  "The pitcher is at your service, Master Tomkins," she replied, "and youmay drink as much as you will; but you have, I warrant, drank betterliquor, and that not long since."

  It was, indeed, obvious that the steward had arisen from a revel, forhis features were somewhat flushed, though he had stopped far short ofintoxication. But Phoebe's alarm at his first appearance was ratherincreased when she observed how he had been lately employed.

  "I do but use my privilege, my pretty Rebecca; the earth is given to thesaints, and the fulness thereof. They shall occupy and enjoy it, boththe riches of the mine, and the treasures of the vine; and they shallrejoice, and their hearts be merry within them. Thou hast yet to learnthe privileges of the saints, my Rebecca."

  "My name is Phoebe," said the maiden, in order to sober the enthusiasticrapture which he either felt or affected.

  "Phoebe after the flesh," he said, "but Rebecca being spiritualised; forart thou not a wandering and stray sheep?--and am I not sent to fetchthee within the fold?--Wherefore else was it said, Thou shalt find herseated by the well, in the wood which is called after the ancientharlot, Rosamond?"

  "You have found me sitting here sure enough," said Phoebe; "but if youwish to keep me company, you must walk to the Lodge with me; and youshall carry my pitcher for me, if you will be so kind. I will hear allthe good things you have to say to me as we go along. But Sir Henrycalls for his glass of water regularly before prayers."

  "What!" exclaimed Tomkins, "hath the old man of bloody hand and perverseheart sent thee hither to do the work of a bondswoman? Verily thou shaltreturn enfranchised; and for the water thou hast drawn for him, it shallbe poured forth, even as David caused to be poured forth the water ofthe well of Bethlehem."

  So saying, he emptied the water pitcher, in spite of Phoebe'sexclamations and entreaties. He then replaced the vessel beneath thelittle conduit, and continued:--"Know that this shall be a token tothee. The filling of that pitcher shall be like the running of asand-glass; and if within the time which shall pass ere it rises to thebrim, thou shalt listen to the words which I shall say to thee, then itshall be well with thee, and thy place shall be high among those who,forsaking the instruction which is as milk for babes and sucklings, eatthe strong food which nourishes manhood. But if the pitcher shalloverbrim with water ere thy ear shall hear and understand, thou shaltthen be given as a prey, and as a bondsmaiden, unto those who shallpossess the fat and the fair of the earth."

  "You frighten me, Master Tomkins," said Phoebe, "though I am sure you donot mean to do so. I wonder how you dare speak words so like the goodwords in the Bible, when you know how you laughed at your own master,and all the rest of them--when you helped to play the hobgoblins at theLodge."

  "Think'st thou then, thou simple fool, that in putting that deceit uponHarrison and the rest, I exceeded my privileges?--Nay, verily.--Listento me, foolish girl. When in former days I lived the most wild,malignant rakehell in Oxfordshire, frequenting wakes and fairs, dancingaround May-poles, and showing my lustihood at football andcudgel-playing--Yea, when I was called, in the language of theuncircumcised, Philip Hazeldine, and was one of the singers in thechoir, and one of the ringers in the steeple, and served the priestyonder, by name Rochecliffe, I was not farther from the straight roadthan when, after long reading, I at length found one blind guide afteranother, all burners of bricks in Egypt. I left them one by one, thepoor tool Harrison being the last; and by my own unassisted strength, Ihave struggled forward to the broad and blessed light, whereof thou too,Phoebe, shalt be partaker."

  "I thank you, Master Tomkins," said Phoebe, suppressing some fear underan appearance of indifference; "but I shall have light enough to carryhome my pitcher, would you but let me take it; and that is all the wantof light I shall have this evening."

  So saying, she stooped to take the pitcher from the fountain; but hesnatched hold of her by the arm, and prevented her from accomplishingher purpose. Phoebe, however, was the daughter of a bold forester,prompt at thoughts of self-defence; and though she missed getting holdof the pitcher, she caught up instead a large pebble, which she keptconcealed in her right hand.

  "Stand up, foolish maiden, and listen," said the Independent, sternly;"and know, in one word, that sin, for which the spirit of man ispunished with the vengeance of Heaven, lieth not in the corporal act,but in the thought of the sinner. Believe, lovely Phoebe, that to thepure all acts are pure, and that sin is in our thought, not in ouractions--even as the radiance of the day is dark to a blind man, butseen and enjoyed by him whose eyes receive it. To him who is but anovice in the things of the spirit, much is enjoined, much isprohibited; and he is fed with milk fit for babes--for him areordinances, prohibitions, and commands. But the saint is above theseordinances and restraints.--To him, as to the chosen child of the house,is given the pass-key to open all locks which withhold him from theenjoyment of his heart's desire. Into such pleasant paths will I guidethee, lovely Phoebe, as shall unite in joy, in innocent freedom,pleasures, which, to the unprivileged, are sinful and prohibited." "Ireally wish, Master Tomkins, you would let me go home." said Phoebe, notcomprehending the nature of his doctrine, but disliking at once hiswords and his manner. He went on, however, with the accursed andblasphemous doctrines, which, in common with others of the pretendedsaints, he had adopted, after having long shifted from one sect toanother, until he settled in the vile belief, that sin, being of acharacter exclusively spiritual, only existed in the thoughts, and thatthe worst actions were permitted to those who had attained to the pitchof believing themselves above ordinance. "Thus, my Phoebe," hecontinued, endeavouring to draw her towards him "I can offer thee morethan ever was held out to woman since Adam first took his bride by thehand. It shall be for others to stand dry-lipped, doing penance, likepapists, by abstinence, when the vessel of pleasure pours forth itsdelights. Dost thou love money?--I have it, and can procure more--am atliberty to procure it on every hand, and by every means--the earth ismine and its fulness. Do you desire power?--which of these poor cheatedcommissioner-fellows' estates dost thou covet, I will work it out forthee; for I deal with a mightier spirit than any of them. And it is notwithout warrant that I have aided the malignant Rochecliffe, and theclown Joliffe, to frighten and baffle them in the guise they did. Askwhat thou wilt, Phoebe, I can give, or I can procure it for thee--Thenenter with me into a life of delight in this world, which shall provebut an anticipation of the joys of Paradise hereafter!"

  Again the fanatical voluptuary endeavoured to pull the poor girl towardshim, while she, alarmed, but not scared out of her presence of mind,endeavoured, by fair entreaty, to prevail on him to release her. But hisfeatures, in themselves not marked, had acquired a frightful expression,and he exclaimed, "No, Phoebe--do not think to escape--thou art given tome as a captive--thou hast neglected the hour of grace, and it hasglided past--See, the water trickles over thy pitcher, which was to be asign between us--Therefore I will urge thee no more with w
ords, of whichthou art not worthy, but treat thee as a recusant of offered grace."

  "Master Tomkins," said Phoebe, in an imploring tone, "consider, forGod's sake, I am a fatherless child--do me no injury, it would be ashame to your strength and your manhood--I cannot understand your finewords--I will think on them till to-morrow." Then, in rising resentment,she added more vehemently--"I will not be used rudely--stand off, or Iwill do you a mischief." But, as he pressed upon her with a violence, ofwhich the object could not be mistaken, and endeavoured to secure herright hand, she exclaimed, "Take it then, with a wanion to you!"--andstruck him an almost stunning blow on the face, with the pebble whichshe held ready for such an extremity.

  The fanatic let her go, and staggered backward, half stupified; whilePhoebe instantly betook herself to flight, screaming for help as sheran, but still grasping the victorious pebble. Irritated to frenzy bythe severe blow which he had received, Tomkins pursued, with every blackpassion in his soul and in his face, mingled with fear least his villanyshould be discovered. He called on Phoebe loudly to stop, and had thebrutality to menace her with one of his pistols if she continued to fly.Yet she slacked not her pace for his threats, and he must either haveexecuted them, or seen her escape to carry the tale to the Lodge, hadshe not unhappily stumbled over the projecting root of a fir-tree. Butas he rushed upon his prey, rescue interposed in the person of JocelineJoliffe, with his quarterstaff on his shoulder. "How now? what meansthis?" he said, stepping between Phoebe and her pursuer. Tomkins,already roused to fury, made no other answer than by discharging atJoceline the pistol which he held in his hand. The ball grazed the underkeeper's face, who, in requital of the assault, and saying "Aha! Let ashanswer iron," applied his quarterstaff with so much force to theIndependent's head, that lighting on the left temple, the blow provedalmost instantly mortal.

  A few convulsive struggles were accompanied with these broken words,--"Joceline--I am gone--but I forgive thee--Doctor Rochecliffe--I wish Ihad minded more--Oh!--the clergyman--the funeral service"--As he utteredthese words, indicative, it may be, of his return to a creed, whichperhaps he had never abjured so thoroughly as he had persuaded himself,his voice was lost in a groan, which, rattling in the throat, seemedunable to find its way to the air. These were the last symptoms of life:the clenched hands presently relaxed--the closed eyes opened, and staredon the heavens a lifeless jelly--the limbs extended themselves andstiffened. The body, which was lately animated with life, was now a lumpof senseless clay--the soul, dismissed from its earthly tenement in amoment so unhallowed, was gone before the judgment-seat.

  "Oh, what have you done?--what have you done, Joceline!" exclaimedPhoebe; "you have killed the man!"

  "Better than he should have killed me," answered Joceline; "for he wasnone of the blinkers that miss their mark twice running.--And yet I amsorry for him.--Many a merry bout have we had together when he was wildPhilip Hazeldine, and then he was bad enough; but since he daubed overhis vices with hypocrisy, he seems to have proved worse devil thanever."

  "Oh, Joceline, come away," said poor Phoebe, "and do not stand gazing onhim thus;" for the woodsman, resting on his fatal weapon, stood lookingdown on the corpse with the appearance of a man half stunned at theevent.

  "This comes of the ale pitcher," she continued, in the true style offemale consolation, "as I have often told you--For Heaven's sake, cometo the Lodge, and let us consult what is to be done."

  "Stay first, girl, and let me drag him out of the path; we must not havehim lie herein all men's sight--Will you not help me, wench?"

  "I cannot, Joceline--I would not touch a lock on him for all Woodstock."

  "I must to this gear myself, then," said Joceline, who, a soldier aswell as a woodsman, still had great reluctance to the necessary task.Something in the face and broken words of the dying man had made a deepand terrific impression on nerves not easily shaken. He accomplished it,however, so far as to drag the late steward out of the open path, andbestow his body amongst the undergrowth of brambles and briers, so asnot to be visible unless particularly looked for. He then returned toPhoebe, who had sate speechless all the while beneath the tree overwhose roots she had stumbled.

  "Come away, wench," he said, "come away to the Lodge, and let us studyhow this is to be answered for--the mishap of his being killed willstrangely increase our danger. What had he sought of thee, wench, whenyou ran from him like a madwoman?--But I can guess--Phil was always adevil among the girls, and I think, as Doctor Rochecliffe says, that,since he turned saint, he took to himself seven devils worse thanhimself.--Here is the very place where I saw him, with his sword in hishand raised against the old knight, and he a child of the parish--it washigh treason at least--but, by my faith, he hath paid for it at last."

  "But, oh, Joceline," said Phoebe, "how could you take so wicked a maninto your counsels, and join him in all his plots about scaring theroundhead gentlemen?"

  "Why look thee, wench, I thought I knew him at the first meetingespecially when Bevis, who was bred here when he was a dog-leader, wouldnot fly at him; and when we made up our old acquaintance at the Lodge, Ifound he kept up a close correspondence with Doctor Rochecliffe, who waspersuaded that he was a good King's man, and held consequently goodintelligence with him.--The doctor boasts to have learned much throughhis means; I wish to Heaven he may not have been as communicative inturn."

  "Oh, Joceline," said the waiting-woman, "you should never have let himwithin the gate of the Lodge!"

  "No more I would, if I had known how to keep him out; but when he wentso frankly into our scheme, and told me how I was to dress myself likeRobinson the player, whose ghost haunted Harrison--I wish no ghost mayhaunt me!--when he taught me how to bear myself to terrify his lawfulmaster, what could I think, wench? I only trust the Doctor has kept thegreat secret of all from his knowledge.--But here we are at the Lodge.Go to thy chamber, wench, and compose thyself. I must seek out DoctorRochecliffe; he is ever talking of his quick and ready invention. Herecome times, I think, that will demand it all."

  Phoebe went to her chamber accordingly; but the strength arising fromthe pressure of danger giving way when the danger was removed, shequickly fell into a succession of hysterical fits, which required theconstant attention of Dame Jellicot, and the less alarmed, but morejudicious care of Mistress Alice, before they even abated in their rapidrecurrence.

  The under-keeper carried his news to the politic Doctor, who wasextremely disconcerted, alarmed, nay angry with Joceline, for havingslain a person on whose communications he had accustomed himself torely. Yet his looks declared his suspicion, whether his confidence hadnot been too rashly conferred--a suspicion which pressed him the moreanxiously, that he was unwilling to avow it, as a derogation from hischaracter for shrewdness, on which he valued himself.

  Dr. Rochecliffe's reliance, however, on the fidelity of Tomkins, hadapparently good grounds. Before the Civil Wars, as may be partlycollected from what has been already hinted at, Tomkins, under his truename of Hazeldine, had been under the protection of the Rector ofWoodstock, occasionally acted as his clerk, was a distinguished memberof his choir, and, being a handy and ingenious fellow, was employed inassisting the antiquarian researches of Dr. Rochecliffe through theinterior of Woodstock. When he engaged in the opposite side in the CivilWars, he still kept up his intelligence with the divine, to whom he hadafforded what seemed valuable information from time to time. Hisassistance had latterly been eminently useful in aiding the Doctor, withthe assistance of Joceline and Phoebe, in contriving and executing thevarious devices by which the Parliamentary Commissioners had beenexpelled from Woodstock. Indeed, his services in this respect had beenthought worthy of no less a reward than a present of what plate remainedat the Lodge, which had been promised to the Independent accordingly.The Doctor, therefore, while admitting he might be a bad man, regrettedhim as a useful one, whose death, if enquired after, was likely to bringadditional danger on a house which danger already surrounded, and whichcontained a pledge so precious.

&nbs
p; * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE THIRTIETH.

  _Cassio_. That thrust had been my enemy indeed, But that my coat is better than thou know'st. OTHELLO.

  On the dark October night succeeding the evening on which Tomkins wasslain, Colonel Everard, besides his constant attendant Roger Wildrake,had Master Nehemiah Holdenough with him as a guest at supper. Thedevotions of the evening having been performed according to thePresbyterian fashion, a light entertainment, and a double quart of burntclaret, were placed before his friends at nine o'clock, an hourunusually late. Master Holdenough soon engaged himself in a polemicaldiscourse against Sectaries and Independents, without being aware thathis eloquence was not very interesting to his principal hearer, whoseideas in the meanwhile wandered to Woodstock and all which itcontained--the Prince, who lay concealed there--his uncle--above all,Alice Lee. As for Wildrake, after bestowing a mental curse both onSectaries and Presbyterians, as being, in his opinion, never a barrelthe better herring, he stretched out his limbs, and would probably havecomposed himself to rest, but that he as well as his patron had thoughtswhich murdered sleep.

  The party were waited upon by a little gipsy-looking boy, in anorange-tawny doublet, much decayed, and garnished with blue worstedlace. The rogue looked somewhat stinted in size, but active both inintelligence and in limb, as his black eyes seemed to promise by theirvivacity. He was an attendant of Wildrake's choice, who had conferred onhim the _nom de guerre_ of Spitfire, and had promised him promotion sosoon as his young protege, Breakfast, was fit to succeed him in hispresent office. It need scarce be said that the manege was maintainedentirely at the expense of Colonel Everard, who allowed Wildrake toarrange the household very much according to his pleasure. The page didnot omit, in offering the company wine from time to time, to accommodateWildrake with about twice the number of opportunities of refreshinghimself which he considered it necessary to afford to the Colonel or hisreverend guest.

  While they were thus engaged, the good divine lost in his own argument,and the hearers in their private thoughts, their attention was abouthalf-past ten arrested by a knocking at the door of the house. To thosewho have anxious hearts, trifles give cause of alarm.

  Even a thing so simple as a knock at the door may have a character whichexcites apprehension. This was no quiet gentle tap, intimating a modestintruder; no redoubled rattle, as the pompous annunciation of some vainperson; neither did it resemble the formal summons to formal business,nor the cheerful visit of some welcome friend. It was a single blow,solemn and stern, if not actually menacing in the sound. The door wasopened by some of the persons of the house; a heavy foot ascended thestair, a stout man entered the room, and drawing the cloak from hisface, said, "Markham Everard, I greet thee in God's name."

  It was General Cromwell.

  Everard, surprised and taken at unawares, endeavoured in vain to findwords to express his astonishment. A bustle occurred in receiving theGeneral, assisting him to uncloak himself, and offering in dumb show thecivilities of reception. The General cast his keen eye around theapartment, and fixing it first on the divine, addressed Everard asfollows: "A reverend man I see is with thee. Thou art not one of those,good Markham, who let the time unnoted and unimproved pass away. Castingaside the things of this world--pressing forward to those of thenext--it is by thus using our time in this poor seat of terrestrial sinand care, that we may, as it were--But how is this?" he continued,suddenly changing his tone, and speaking briefly, sharply, andanxiously; "one hath left the room since I entered?"

  Wildrake had, indeed, been absent for a minute or two, but had nowreturned, and stepped forward from a bay window, as if he had been outof sight only, not out of the apartment. "Not so, sir; I stood but inthe background out of respect. Noble General, I hope all is well withthe Estate, that your Excellency makes us so late a visit? Would notyour Excellency choose some"--

  "Ah!" said Oliver, looking sternly and fixedly at him--"Our trustyGo-between--our faithful confidant.--No, sir; at present I desirenothing more than a kind reception, which, methinks, my friend MarkhamEverard is in no hurry to give me."

  "You bring your own welcome, my lord," said Everard, compelling himselfto speak. "I can only trust it was no bad news that made your Excellencya late traveller, and ask, like my follower, what refreshment I shallcommand for your accommodation."

  "The state is sound and healthy, Colonel Everard," said the General;"and yet the less so, that many of its members, who have been hithertoworkers together, and propounders of good counsel, and advancers of thepublic weal, have now waxed cold in their love and in their affectionfor the Good Cause, for which we should be ready, in our variousdegrees, to act and do so soon as we are called to act that whereunto weare appointed, neither rashly nor over-slothfully, neither lukewarmlynor over-violently, but with such a frame and disposition, in which zealand charity may, as it were, meet and kiss each other in our streets.Howbeit, because we look back after we have put our hand to the plough,therefore is our force waxed dim."

  "Pardon me, sir," said Nehemiah Holdenough, who, listening with someimpatience, began to guess in whose company he stood--"Pardon me, forunto this I have a warrant to speak."

  "Ah! ah!" said Cromwell. "Surely, most worthy sir, we grieve the Spiritwhen we restrain those pourings forth, which, like water from a rock"--

  "Nay, therein I differ from you, sir," said Holdenough; "for as there isthe mouth to transmit the food, and the profit to digest what Heavenhath sent; so is the preacher ordained to teach and the people to hear;the shepherd to gather the flock into the sheepfold, the sheep to profitby the care of the shepherd."

  "Ah! my worthy sir," said Cromwell, with much unction, "methinks youverge upon the great mistake, which supposes that churches are talllarge houses built by masons, and hearers are men--wealthy men, who paytithes, the larger as well as the less; and that the priests, men inblack gowns or grey cloaks, who receive the same, are in guerdon theonly distributors of Christian blessings; whereas, in my apprehension,there is more of Christian liberty in leaving it to the discretion ofthe hungry soul to seek his edification where it can be found, whetherfrom the mouth of a lay teacher, who claimeth his warrant from Heavenalone, or at the dispensation of those who take ordinations and degreesfrom synods and universities, at best but associations of poor sinfulcreatures like themselves."

  "You speak you know not what, sir," replied Holdenough, impatiently."Can light come out of darkness, sense out of ignorance, or knowledge ofthe mysteries of religion from such ignorant mediciners as give poisonsinstead of wholesome medicaments, and cram with filth the stomachs ofsuch as seek to them for food?" This, which the Presbyterian divineuttered rather warmly, the General answered with the utmost mildness.

  "Lack-a-day, lack-a-day! a learned man, but intemperate; over-zeal hatheaten him up.--A well-a-day, sir, you may talk of your regulargospel-meals, but a word spoken in season by one whose heart is withyour heart, just perhaps when you are riding on to encounter an enemy,or are about to mount a breach, is to the poor spirit like a rasher onthe coals, which the hungry shall find preferable to a great banquet, atsuch times when the full soul loatheth the honey-comb. Nevertheless,although I speak thus in my poor judgment, I would not put force on theconscience of any man, leaving to the learned to follow the learned, andthe wise to be instructed by the wise, while poor simple wretched soulsare not to be denied a drink from the stream which runneth by theway.--Ay, verily, it will be a comely sight in England when men shall goon as in a better world, bearing with each other's infirmities, joiningin each other's comforts.--Ay, truly, the rich drink out of silverflagons, and goblets of silver, the poor out of paltry bowls ofwood--and even so let it be, since they both drink the same element."

  Here an officer opened the door and looked in, to whom Cromwell,exchanging the canting drawl, in which it seemed he might have gone oninterminably, for the short brief tone of action, called out, "Pearson,is he come?"

  "No, sir," replied Pearson; "we have enquired fo
r him at the place younoted, and also at other haunts of his about the town."

  "The knave!" said Cromwell, with bitter emphasis; "can he have provedfalse?--No, no, his interest is too deeply engaged. We shall find him byand by. Hark thee hither."

  While this conversation was going forward, the reader must imagine thealarm of Everard. He was certain that the personal attendance ofCromwell must be on some most important account, and he could not butstrongly suspect that the General had some information respectingCharles's lurking place. If taken, a renewal of the tragedy of the 30thof January was instantly to be apprehended, and the ruin of the wholefamily of Lee, with himself probably included, must be the necessaryconsequence.

  He looked eagerly for consolation at Wildrake, whose countenanceexpressed much alarm, which he endeavoured to bear out with his usuallook of confidence. But the weight within was too great; he shuffledwith his feet, rolled his eyes, and twisted his hands, like an unassuredwitness before an acute and not to be deceived judge.

  Oliver, meanwhile, left his company not a minute's leisure to takecounsel together. Even while his perplexed eloquence flowed on in astream so mazy that no one could discover which way its course wastending, his sharp watchful eye rendered all attempts of Everard to holdcommunication with Wildrake, even by signs, altogether vain. Everard,indeed, looked for an instant at the window, then glanced at Wildrake,as if to hint there might be a possibility to escape that way. But thecavalier had replied with a disconsolate shake of the head, so slight asto be almost imperceptible. Everard, therefore, lost all hope, and themelancholy feeling of approaching and inevitable evil, was only variedby anxiety concerning the shape and manner in which it was about to makeits approach.

  But Wildrake had a spark of hope left. The very instant Cromwell enteredhe had got out of the room, and down to the door of the house. "Back--back!" repeated by two armed sentinels, convinced him that, as his fearshad anticipated, the General had come neither unattended nor unprepared.He turned on his heel, ran up stairs, and meeting on the landing-placethe boy whom he called Spitfire, hurried him into the small apartmentwhich he occupied as his own. Wildrake had been shooting that morning,and game lay on the table. He pulled a feather from a woodcock's wing,and saying hastily, "For thy life, Spitfire, mind my orders--I will putthee safe out at the window into the court--the yard wall is nothigh--and there will be no sentry there--Fly to the Lodge, as thouwouldst win Heaven, and give this feather to Mistress Alice Lee, ifpossible--if not, to Joceline Joliffe--say I have won the wages of theyoung lady. Dost mark me, boy?"

  The sharp-witted youth clapped his hand in his master's, and onlyreplied, "Done, and done."

  Wildrake opened the window, and, though the height was considerable, hecontrived to let the boy down safely by holding his cloak. A heap ofstraw on which Spitfire lighted rendered the descent perfectly safe, andWildrake saw him scramble over the wall of the court-yard, at the anglewhich bore on a back lane; and so rapidly was this accomplished, thatthe cavalier had just re-entered the room, when, the bustle attendingCromwell's arrival subsiding, his own absence began to be noticed.

  He remained during Cromwell's lecture on the vanity of creeds, anxiousin mind whether he might not have done better to send an explicit verbalmessage, since there was no time to write. But the chance of the boybeing stopped, or becoming confused with feeling himself the messengerof a hurried and important communication, made him, on the whole, gladthat he had preferred a more enigmatical way of conveying theintelligence. He had, therefore, the advantage of his patron, for he wasconscious still of a spark of hope.

  Pearson had scarce shut the door, when Holdenough, as ready in armsagainst the future Dictator as he had been prompt to encounter thesupposed phantoms and fiends of Woodstock, resumed his attack upon theschismatics, whom he undertook to prove to be at once soul-slayers,false brethren, and false messengers; and was proceeding to allege textsin behalf of his proposition, when Cromwell, apparently tired of thediscussion, and desirous to introduce a discourse more accordant withhis real feelings, interrupted him, though very civilly, and took thediscourse into his own hands.

  "Lack-a-day," he said, "the good man speaks truth, according to hisknowledge and to his lights,--ay, bitter truths, and hard to bedigested, while we see as men see, and not with the eyes of angels.--False messengers, said the reverend man?--ay, truly, the world is fullof such. You shall see them who will carry your secret message to thehouse of your mortal foe, and will say to him, 'Lo! my master is goingforth with a small train, by such and such desolate places; be youspeedy, therefore, that you may arise and slay him.' And another, whoknoweth where the foe of your house, and enemy of your person, lieshidden, shall, instead of telling his master thereof, carry tidings tothe enemy even where he lurketh, saying, 'Lo! my master knoweth of yoursecret abode--up now, and fly, lest he come on thee like a lion on hisprey.'--But shall this go without punishment?" looking at Wildrake witha withering glance. "Now, as my soul liveth, and as He liveth who hathmade me a ruler in Israel, such false messengers shall be knitted togibbets on the wayside, and their right hands shall be nailed abovetheir heads, in an extended position, as if pointing out to others theroad from which they themselves have strayed!"

  "Surely," said Master Holdenough, "it is right to cut off suchoffenders."

  "Thank ye, Mass-John," muttered Wildrake; "when did the Presbyterianfail to lend the devil a shove?"

  "But, I say," continued Holdenough, "that the matter is estranged fromour present purpose, for the false brethren of whom I spoke are"--

  "Right, excellent sir, they be those of our own house," answeredCromwell; "the good man is right once more. Ay, of whom can we now saythat he is a true brother, although he has lain in the same womb withus? Although we have struggled in the same cause, eat at the same table,fought in the same battle, worshipped at the same throne, there shall beno truth in him.--Ah, Markham Everard, Markham Everard!"

  He paused at this ejaculation; and Everard, desirous at once of knowinghow far he stood committed, replied, "Your Excellency seems to havesomething in your mind in which I am concerned. May I request you willspeak it out, that I may know what I am accused of?"

  "Ah, Mark, Mark," replied the General, "there needeth no accuser speakwhen the still small voice speaks within us. Is there not moisture onthy brow, Mark Everard? Is there not trouble in thine eye? Is there nota failure in thy frame? And who ever saw such things in noble and stoutMarkham Everard, whose brow was only moist after having worn the helmetfor a summer's day; whose hand only shook when it had wielded for hoursthe weighty falchion?--But go to, man! thou doubtest over much. Hastthou not been to me as a brother, and shall I not forgive thee even theseventy-seventh time? The knave hath tarried somewhere, who should havedone by this time an office of much import. Take advantage of hisabsence, Mark; it is a grace that God gives thee beyond expectance. I donot say, fall at my feet; but speak to me as a friend to his friend."

  "I have never said any thing to your Excellency that was in the leastundeserving the title you have assigned to me," said Colonel Everard,proudly.

  "Nay, nay, Markham," answered Cromwell; "I say not you have. But--butyou ought to have remembered the message I sent you by that person"(pointing to Wildrake;) "and you must reconcile it with your conscience,how, having such a message, guarded with such reasons, you could thinkyourself at liberty to expel my friends from Woodstock, being determinedto disappoint my object, whilst you availed yourself of the boon, oncondition of which my warrant was issued."

  Everard was about to reply, when, to his astonishment, Wildrake steppedforward; and with a voice and look very different from his ordinarymanner, and approaching a good deal to real dignity of mind, said,boldly and calmly, "You are mistaken, Master Cromwell; and addressyourself to the wrong party here."

  The speech was so sudden and intrepid that Cromwell stepped a pace back,and motioned with his right hand towards his weapon, as if he hadexpected that an address of a nature so unusually bold was to befollowed by some act of
violence. He instantly resumed his indifferentposture; and, irritated at a smile which he observed on Wildrake'scountenance, he said, with the dignity of one long accustomed to see alltremble before him, "This to me, fellow! Know you to whom you speak?"

  "Fellow!" echoed Wildrake, whose reckless humour was now completely setafloat--"No fellow of yours, Master Oliver. I have known the day whenRoger Wildrake of Squattlesea-mere, Lincoln, a handsome young gallant,with a good estate, would have been thought no fellow of the bankruptbrewer of Huntingdon."

  "Be silent!" said Everard; "be silent, Wildrake, if you love your life!"

  "I care not a maravedi for my life," said Wildrake. "Zounds, if hedislikes what I say, let him take to his tools! I know, after all, hehath good blood in his veins! and I will indulge him with a turn in thecourt yonder, had he been ten times a brewer."

  "Such ribaldry, friend," said Oliver, "I treat with the contempt itdeserves. But if thou hast any thing to say touching the matter inquestion speak out like a man, though thou look'st more like a beast."

  "All I have to say is," replied Wildrake, "that whereas you blameEverard for acting on your warrant, as you call it, I can tell you heknew not a word of the rascally conditions you talk of. I took care ofthat; and you may take the vengeance on me, if you list."

  "Slave! dare you tell this to _me_?" said Cromwell, still heedfullyrestraining his passion, which he felt was about to discharge itselfupon an unworthy object.

  "Ay, you will make every Englishman a slave, if you have your own way,"said Wildrake, not a whit abashed;--for the awe which had formerlyovercome him when alone with this remarkable man, had vanished, now thatthey were engaged in an altercation before witnesses.--"But do yourworst, Master Oliver; I tell you beforehand, the bird has escaped you."

  "You dare not say so!--Escaped?--So ho! Pearson! tell the soldiers tomount instantly.--Thou art a lying fool!--Escaped?--Where, or fromwhence?"

  "Ay, that is the question," said Wildrake; "for look you, sir--that mendo go from hence is certain--but how they go, or to what quarter"--

  Cromwell stood attentive, expecting some useful hint from the carelessimpetuosity of the cavalier, upon the route which the King might havetaken.

  --"Or to what quarter, as I said before, why, your Excellency, MasterOliver, may e'en find that out yourself."

  As he uttered the last words he unsheathed his rapier, and made a fullpass at the General's body. Had his sword met no other impediment thanthe buff jerkin, Cromwell's course had ended on the spot. But, fearfulof such attempts, the General wore under his military dress a shirt ofthe finest mail, made of rings of the best steel, and so light andflexible that it was little or no encumbrance to the motions of thewearer. It proved his safety on this occasion, for the rapier sprung inshivers; while the owner, now held back by Everard and Holdenough, flungthe hilt with passion on the ground, exclaiming, "Be damned the handthat forged thee!--To serve me so long, and fail me when thy trueservice would have honoured us both for ever! But no good could come ofthee, since thou wert pointed, even in jest, at a learned divine of theChurch of England."

  In the first instant of alarm,--and perhaps suspecting Wildrake might besupported by others, Cromwell half drew from his bosom a concealedpistol, which he hastily returned, observing that both Everard and theclergyman were withholding the cavalier from another attempt.

  Pearson and a soldier or two rushed in--"Secure that fellow," said theGeneral, in the indifferent tone of one to whom imminent danger was toofamiliar to cause irritation--"Bind him--but not so hard, Pearson;"--forthe men, to show their zeal, were drawing their belts, which they usedfor want of cords, brutally tight round Wildrake's limbs. "He would haveassassinated me, but I would reserve him for his fit doom."

  "Assassinated!--I scorn your words, Master Oliver," said Wildrake; "Iproffered you a fair duello."

  "Shall we shoot him in the street, for an example?" said Pearson toCromwell; while Everard endeavoured to stop Wildrake from giving furtheroffence.

  "On your life harm him not; but let him be kept in safe ward, and welllooked after," said Cromwell; while the prisoner exclaimed to Everard,"I prithee let me alone--I am now neither thy follower, nor any man's,and I am as willing to die as ever I was to take a cup of liquor.--Andhark ye, speaking of that, Master Oliver, you were once a jolly fellow,prithee let one of thy lobsters here advance yonder tankard to my lips,and your Excellency shall hear a toast, a song, and a--secret."

  "Unloose his head, and hand the debauched beast the tankard," saidOliver; "while yet he exists, it were shame to refuse him the element helives in."

  "Blessings on your head for once," said Wildrake, whose object incontinuing this wild discourse was, if possible, to gain a little delay,when every moment was precious. "Thou hast brewed good ale, and that'swarrant for a blessing. For my toast and my song, here they gotogether--

  Son of a witch, Mayst thou die in a ditch, With the hutchers who back thy quarrels; And rot above ground, While the world shall resound A welcome to Royal King Charles.

  And now for my secret, that you may not say I had your liquor fornothing--I fancy my song will scarce pass current for much--My secretis, Master Cromwell--that the bird is flown--and your red nose will beas white as your winding-sheet before you can smell out which way."

  "Pshaw, rascal," answered Cromwell, contemptuously, "keep your scurrilejests for the gibbet foot."

  "I shall look on the gibbet more boldly," replied Wildrake, "than I haveseen you look on the Royal Martyr's picture."

  This reproach touched Cromwell to the very quick.--"Villain!" heexclaimed; "drag him hence, draw out a party, and--But hold, not now--toprison with him--let him be close watched, and gagged, if he attempts tospeak to the sentinels--Nay, hold--I mean, put a bottle of brandy intohis cell, and he will gag himself in his own way, I warrant you--Whenday comes, that men can see the example, he shall be gagged after myfashion."

  During the various breaks in his orders, the General was evidentlygetting command of his temper; and though he began in fury, he endedwith the contemptuous sneer of one who overlooks the abusive language ofan inferior. Something remained on his mind notwithstanding, for hecontinued standing, as if fixed to the same spot in the apartment, hiseyes bent on the ground, and with closed hand pressed against his lips,like a man who is musing deeply. Pearson, who was about to speak to him,drew back, and made a sign to those in the room to be silent.

  Master Holdenough did not mark, or, at least, did not obey it.Approaching the General, he said, in a respectful but firm tone, "Did Iunderstand it to be your Excellency's purpose that this poor man shalldie next morning?"

  "Hah!" exclaimed Cromwell, starting from his reverie, "what say'stthou?"

  "I took leave to ask, if it was your will that this unhappy man shoulddie to-morrow?"

  "Whom saidst thou?" demanded Cromwell: "Markham Everard--shall he die,saidst thou?"

  "God forbid!" replied Holdenough, stepping back--"I asked whether thisblinded creature, Wildrake, was to be so suddenly cut off?"

  "Ay, marry is he," said Cromwell, "were the whole General Assembly ofDivines at Westminster--the whole Sanhedrim of Presbytery--to offer bailfor him."

  "If you will not think better of it, sir," said Holdenough, "at leastgive not the poor man the means of destroying his senses--Let me go tohim as a divine, to watch with him, in case he may yet be admitted intothe vineyard at the latest hour--yet brought into the sheepfold, thoughhe has neglected the call of the pastor till time is wellnigh closedupon him."

  "For God's sake," said Everard, who had hitherto kept silence, becausehe knew Cromwell's temper on such occasions, "think better of what youdo!"

  "Is it for thee to teach me?" replied Cromwell; "think thou of thine ownmatters, and believe me it will require all thy wit.--And for you,reverend sir, I will have no father-confessors attend my prisoners--notales out of school. If the fellow thirsts after ghostly comfort, as heis much more like to thirst after a quartern of brandy, there isCorporal Humgudgeon, who
commands the _corps de garde_, will preach andpray as well as the best of ye.--But this delay is intolerable--Comesnot this fellow yet?"

  "No, sir," replied Pearson. "Had we not better go down to the Lodge? Thenews of our coming hither may else get there before us."

  "True," said Cromwell, speaking aside to his officer, "but you knowTomkins warned us against doing so, alleging there were so manypostern-doors, and sallyports, and concealed entrances in the old house,that it was like a rabbit-warren, and that an escape might be easilymade under our very noses, unless he were with us, to point out all theports which should be guarded. He hinted, too, that he might be delayeda few minutes after his time of appointment--but we have now waitedhalf-an-hour."

  "Does your Excellency think Tomkins is certainly to be depended upon?"said Pearson.

  "As far as his interest goes, unquestionably," replied the General. "Hehas ever been the pump by which I have sucked the marrow out of many aplot, in special those of the conceited fool Rochecliffe, who is gooseenough to believe that such a fellow as Tomkins would value any thingbeyond the offer of the best bidder. And yet it groweth late--I fear wemust to the Lodge without him--Yet, all things well considered, I willtarry here till midnight.--Ah! Everard, thou mightest put this gear torights if thou wilt! Shall some foolish principle of fantastic punctiliohave more weight with thee, man, than have the pacification and welfareof England; the keeping of faith to thy friend and benefactor, and whowill be yet more so, and the fortune and security of thy relations? Arethese, I say, lighter in the balance than the cause of a worthless boy,who, with his father and his father's house, have troubled Israel forfifty years?"

  "I do not understand your Excellency, nor at what service you point,which I can honestly render," replied Everard. "That which is dishonestI should be loth that you proposed."

  "Then this at least might suit your honesty, or scrupulous humour, callit which thou wilt," said Cromwell. "Thou knowest, surely, all thepassages about Jezebel's palace down yonder?--Let me know how they maybe guarded against the escape of any from within."

  "I cannot pretend to aid you in this matter," said Everard; "I know notall the entrances and posterns about Woodstock, and if I did, I am notfree in conscience to communicate with you on this occasion."

  "We shall do without you, sir," replied Cromwell, haughtily; "and ifaught is found which may criminate you, remember you have lost right tomy protection."

  "I shall be sorry," said Everard, "to have lost your friendship,General; but I trust my quality as an Englishman may dispense with thenecessity of protection from any man. I know no law which obliges me tobe spy or informer, even if I were in the way of having opportunity todo service in either honourable capacity."

  "Well, sir," said Cromwell, "for all your privileges and qualities, Iwill make bold to take you down to the Lodge at Woodstock to-night, toenquire into affairs in which the State is concerned.--Come hither,Pearson." He took a paper from his pocket, containing a rough sketch orground-plan of Woodstock Lodge, with the avenues leading to it.--"Lookhere," he said, "we must move in two bodies on foot, and with allpossible silence--thou must march to the rear of the old house ofiniquity with twenty file of men, and dispose them around it the wisestthou canst. Take the reverend man there along with you. He must besecured at any rate, and may serve as a guide. I myself will occupy thefront of the Lodge, and thus having stopt all the earths, thou wilt cometo me for farther orders--silence and dispatch is all.--But for the dogTomkins, who broke appointment with me, he had need render a goodexcuse, or woe to his father's son!--Reverend sir, be pleased toaccompany that officer.--Colonel Everard, you are to follow me; butfirst give your sword to Captain Pearson, and consider yourself as underarrest."

  Everard gave his sword to Pearson without any comment, and with the mostanxious presage of evil followed the Republican General, in obedience tocommands which it would have been useless to dispute.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FIRST.

  "Were my son William here but now, He wadna fail the pledge." Wi' that in at the door there ran A ghastly-looking page-- "I saw them, master, O! I saw, Beneath the thornie brae, Of black-mail'd warriors many a rank; 'Revenge!' he cried, 'and gae.'"

  HENRY MACKENZIE.

  The little party at the Lodge were assembled at supper, at the earlyhour of eight o'clock. Sir Henry Lee, neglecting the food that wasplaced on the table, stood by a lamp on the chimney-piece, and read aletter with mournful attention.

  "Does my son write to you more particularly than to me, DoctorRochecliffe?" said the knight. "He only says here, that he will returnprobably this night; and that Master Kerneguy must be ready to set offwith him instantly. What can this haste mean? Have you heard of any newsearch after our suffering party? I wish they would permit me to enjoymy son's company in quiet but for a day."

  "The quiet which depends on the wicked ceasing from troubling," said Dr.Rochecliffe, "is connected, not by days and hours, but by minutes. Theirglut of blood at Worcester had satiated them for a moment, but theirappetite, I fancy, has revived."

  "You have news, then, to that purpose?" said Sir Henry.

  "Your son," replied the Doctor, "wrote to me by the same messenger: heseldom fails to do so, being aware of what importance it is that Ishould know every thing that passes. Means of escape are provided on thecoast, and Master Kerneguy must be ready to start with your son theinstant he appears."

  "It is strange," said the knight; "for forty years I have dwelt in thishouse, man and boy, and the point only was how to make the day pass overour heads; for if I did not scheme out some hunting match or hawking, orthe like, I might have sat here on my arm-chair, as undisturbed as asleeping dormouse, from one end of the year to the other; and now I ammore like a hare on her form, that dare not sleep unless with her eyesopen, and scuds off when the wind rustles among the fern."

  "It is strange," said Alice, looking at Dr. Rochecliffe, "that theroundhead steward has told you nothing of this. He is usuallycommunicative enough of the motions of his party; and I saw you closetogether this morning."

  "I must be closer with him this evening," said the Doctor gloomily; "buthe will not blab."

  "I wish you may not trust him too much," said Alice in reply.--"To me,that man's face, with all its shrewdness, evinces such a darkexpression, that methinks I read treason in his very eye."

  "Be assured, that matter is looked to," answered the Doctor, in the sameominous tone as before. No one replied, and there was a chilling andanxious feeling of apprehension which seemed to sink down on the companyat once, like those sensations which make such constitutions as areparticularly subject to the electrical influence, conscious of anapproaching thunder-storm.

  The disguised Monarch, apprised that day to be prepared on short noticeto quit his temporary asylum, felt his own share of the gloom whichinvolved the little society. But he was the first also to shake it off,as what neither suited his character nor his situation. Gaiety was theleading distinction of the former, and presence of mind, not depressionof spirits, was required by the latter.

  "We make the hour heavier," he said, "by being melancholy about it. Hadyou not better join me, Mistress Alice, in Patrick Carey's jovialfarewell?--Ah, you do not know Pat Carey--a younger brother of LordFalkland's?"

  "A brother of the immortal Lord Falkland's, and write songs!" said theDoctor.

  "Oh, Doctor, the Muses take tithe as well as the Church," said Charles,"and have their share in every family of distinction. You do not knowthe words, Mistress Alice, but you can aid me, notwithstanding, in theburden at least--

  'Come, now that we're parting, and 'tis one to ten If the towers of sweet Woodstock I e'er see agen, Let us e'en have a frolic, and drink like tall men, While the goblet goes merrily round.'"

  The song arose, but not with spirit. It was one of those efforts atforced mirth, by which, above all other modes of expressing it, theabsence of real cheerfulness is most distinctly animated
. Charles stoptthe song, and upbraided the choristers.

  "You sing, my dear Mistress Alice, as if you were chanting one of theseven penitential psalms; and you, good Doctor, as if you recited thefuneral service."

  The Doctor rose hastily from the table, and turned to the window; forthe expression connected singularly with the task which he was thatevening to discharge. Charles looked at him with some surprise; for theperil in which he lived, made him watchful of the slightest motions ofthose around him--then turned to Sir Henry, and said, "My honoured host,can you tell any reason for this moody fit, which has so strangely creptupon us all?"

  "Not I, my dear Louis," replied the knight; "I have no skill in thesenice quillets of philosophy. I could as soon undertake to tell you thereason why Bevis turns round three times before he lies down. I can onlysay for myself, that if age and sorrow and uncertainty be enough tobreak a jovial spirit, or at least to bend it now and then, I have myshare of them all; so that I, for one, cannot say that I am sad merelybecause I am not merry. I have but too good cause for sadness. I would Isaw my son, were it but for a minute."

  Fortune seemed for once disposed to gratify the old man; for Albert Leeentered at that moment. He was dressed in a riding suit, and appeared tohave travelled hard. He cast his eye hastily around as he entered. Itrested for a second on that of the disguised Prince, and, satisfied withthe glance which he received in lieu, he hastened, after the fashion ofthe olden day, to kneel down to his father, and request his blessing.

  "It is thine, my boy," said the old man; a tear springing to his eyes ashe laid his hand on the long locks, which distinguished the youngcavalier's rank and principles, and which, usually combed and curledwith some care, now hung wild and dishevelled about his shoulders. Theyremained an instant in this posture, when the old man suddenly startedfrom it, as if ashamed of the emotion which he had expressed before somany witnesses, and passing the back of his hand hastily across hiseyes, bid Albert get up and mind his supper, "since I dare say you haveridden fast and far since you last baited--and we'll send round a cup tohis health, if Doctor Rochecliffe and the company pleases--Joceline,thou knave, skink about--thou look'st as if thou hadst seen a ghost."

  "Joceline," said Alice, "is sick for sympathy--one of the stags ran atPhoebe Mayflower to-day, and she was fain to have Joceline's assistanceto drive the creature off--the girl has been in fits since she camehome."

  "Silly slut," said the old knight--"She a woodman's daughter!--But,Joceline, if the deer gets dangerous, you must send a broad arrowthrough him."

  "It will not need, Sir Henry," said Joceline, speaking with greatdifficulty of utterance--"he is quiet enough now--he will not offend inthat sort again."

  "See it be so," replied the knight; "remember Mistress Alice often walksin the Chase. And now, fill round, and fill too, a cup to thyself tooverred thy fear, as mad Will has it. Tush, man, Phoebe will do wellenough--she only screamed and ran, that thou might'st have the pleasureto help her. Mind what thou dost, and do not go spilling the wine afterthat fashion.--Come, here is a health to our wanderer, who has come tous again."

  "None will pledge it more willingly than I," said the disguised Prince,unconsciously assuming an importance which the character he personatedscarce warranted; but Sir Henry, who had become fond of the supposedpage, with all his peculiarities, imposed only a moderate rebuke uponhis petulance. "Thou art a merry, good-humoured youth, Louis," he said,"but it is a world to see how the forwardness of the present generationhath gone beyond the gravity and reverence which in my youth was soregularly observed towards those of higher rank and station--I dared nomore have given my own tongue the rein, when there was a doctor ofdivinity in company, than I would have dared to have spoken in church inservice time."

  "True, sir," said Albert, hastily interfering; "but Master Kerneguy hadthe better right to speak at present, that I have been absent on hisbusiness as well as my own, have seen several of his friends, and bringhim important intelligence."

  Charles was about to rise and beckon Albert aside, naturally impatientto know what news he had procured, or what scheme of safe escape was nowdecreed for him. But Dr. Rochecliffe twitched his cloak, as a hint tohim to sit still, and not show any extraordinary motive for anxiety,since, in case of a sudden discovery of his real quality, the violenceof Sir Henry Lee's feelings might have been likely to attract too muchattention.

  Charles, therefore, only replied, as to the knight's stricture, that hehad a particular title to be sudden and unceremonious in expressing histhanks to Colonel Lee--that gratitude was apt to be unmannerly--finally,that he was much obliged to Sir Henry for his admonition; and that quitWoodstock when he would, "he was sure to leave it a better man than hecame there."

  His speech was of course ostensibly directed towards the father; but aglance at Alice assured her that she had her full share in thecompliment.

  "I fear," he concluded, addressing Albert, "that you come to tell us ourstay here must be very short."

  "A few hours only," said Albert--"just enough for needful rest forourselves and our horses. I have procured two which are good and tried.But Doctor Rochecliffe broke faith with me. I expected to have met someone down at Joceline's hut, where I left the horses; and finding noperson, I was delayed an hour in littering them down myself, that theymight be ready for to-morrow's work--for we must be off before day."

  "I--I--intended to have sent Tomkins--but--but"--hesitated the Doctor,"I"--

  "The roundheaded rascal was drunk, or out of the way, I presume," saidAlbert. "I am glad of it--you may easily trust him too far."

  "Hitherto he has been faithful," said the Doctor, "and I scarce think hewill fail me now. But Joceline will go down and have the horses inreadiness in the morning."

  Joceline's countenance was usually that of alacrity itself on a caseextraordinary. Now, however, he seemed to hesitate.

  "You will go with me a little way, Doctor?" he said, as he edged himselfclosely to Rochecliffe.

  "How? puppy, fool, and blockhead," said the knight, "wouldst thou askDoctor Rochecliffe to bear thee company at this hour?--Out, hound!--getdown to the kennel yonder instantly, or I will break the knave's pate ofthee."

  Joceline looked with an eye of agony at the divine, as if entreating himto interfere in his behalf; but just as he was about to speak, a mostmelancholy howling arose at the hall-door, and a dog was heardscratching for admittance.

  "What ails Bevis next?" said the old knight. "I think this must beAll-Fools-day, and that every thing around me is going mad!"

  The same sound startled Albert and Charles from a private conference inwhich they had engaged, and Albert ran to the hall-door to examinepersonally into the cause of the noise.

  "It is no alarm," said the old knight to Kerneguy, "for in such casesthe dog's bark is short, sharp, and furious. These long howls are saidto be ominous. It was even so that Bevis's grandsire bayed the wholelivelong night on which my poor father died. If it comes now as apresage, God send it regard the old and useless, not the young, andthose who may yet serve King and country!"

  The dog had pushed past Colonel Lee, who stood a little while at thehall-door to listen if there were any thing stirring without, whileBevis advanced into the room where the company were assembled, bearingsomething in his mouth, and exhibiting, in an unusual degree, that senseof duty and interest which a dog seems to show when he thinks he has thecharge of something important. He entered therefore, drooping his longtail, slouching his head and ears, and walking with the stately yetmelancholy dignity of a war-horse at his master's funeral. In thismanner he paced through the room, went straight up to Joceline, who hadbeen regarding him with astonishment, and uttering a short andmelancholy howl, laid at his feet the object which he bore in his mouth.Joceline stooped, and took from the floor a man's glove, of the fashionworn by the troopers, having something like the old-fashioned gauntletedprojections of thick leather arising from the wrist, which go half wayup to the elbow, and secure the arm against a cut with a sword. ButJoceline
had no sooner looked at what in itself was so common an object,than he dropped it from his hand, staggered backward, uttered a groan,and nearly fell to the ground.

  "Now, the coward's curse be upon thee for an idiot!" said the knight,who had picked up the glove, and was looking at it--"thou shouldst besent back to school, and flogged till the craven's blood was switchedout of thee--What dost thou look at but a glove, thou base poltroon, anda very dirty glove, too? Stay, here is writing--Joseph Tomkins? Why,that is the roundheaded fellow--I wish he hath not come to somemischief, for this is not dirt on the cheveron, but blood. Bevis mayhave bit the fellow, and yet the dog seemed to love him well too, or thestag may have hurt him. Out, Joceline, instantly, and see where heis--wind your bugle."

  "I cannot go," said Joliffe, "unless"--and again he looked piteously atDr. Rochecliffe, who saw no time was to be lost in appeasing theranger's terrors, as his ministry was most needful in the presentcircumstances.--"Get spade and mattock," he whispered to him, "and adark lantern, and meet me in the Wilderness."

  Joceline left the room; and the Doctor, before following him, had a fewwords of explanation with Colonel Lee. His own spirit, far from beingdismayed on the occasion, rather rose higher, like one whose naturalelement was intrigue and danger. "Here hath been wild work," he said,"since you parted. Tomkins was rude to the wench Phoebe--Joceline and hehad a brawl together, and Tomkins is lying dead in the thicket, not farfrom Rosamond's Well. It will be necessary that Joceline and I godirectly to bury the body; for besides that some one might stumble uponit, and raise an alarm, this fellow Joceline will never be fit for anyactive purpose till it is under ground. Though as stout as a lion, theunder-keeper has his own weak side, and is more afraid of a dead bodythan a living one. When do you propose to start to-morrow?"

  "By daybreak, or earlier," said Colonel Lee; "but we will meet again. Avessel is provided, and I have relays in more places than one--we go offfrom the coast of Sussex; and I am to get a letter at ----, acquaintingme precisely with the spot."

  "Wherefore not go off instantly?" said the Doctor.

  "The horses would fail us," replied Albert; "they have been hard riddento-day."

  "Adieu," said Rochecliffe, "I must to my task--Do you take rest andrepose for yours. To conceal a slaughtered body, and convey on the samenight a king from danger and captivity, are two feats which have fallento few folks save myself; but let me not, while putting on my harness,boast myself as if I were taking it off after a victory." So saying heleft the apartment, and, muffling himself in his cloak, went out intowhat was called the Wilderness.

  The weather was a raw frost. The mists lay in partial wreaths upon thelower grounds; but the night, considering that the heavenly bodies werein a great measure hidden by the haze, was not extremely dark. Dr.Rochecliffe could not, however, distinguish the under-keeper until hehad hemmed once or twice, when Joceline answered the signal by showing aglimpse of light from the dark lantern which he carried. Guided by thisintimation of his presence, the divine found him leaning against abuttress which had once supported a terrace, now ruinous. He had apickaxe and shovel, together with a deer's hide hanging over hisshoulder.

  "What do you want with the hide, Joceline," said Dr. Rochecliffe, "thatyou lumber it about with you on such an errand?"

  "Why, look you, Doctor," he answered, "it is as well to tell you allabout it. The man and I--he there--you know whom I mean--had many yearssince a quarrel about this deer. For though we were great friends, andPhilip was sometimes allowed by my master's permission to help me inmine office, yet I knew, for all that, Philip Hazeldine was sometimes atrespasser. The deer-stealers were very bold at that time, it being justbefore the breaking out of the war, when men were becoming unsettled--And so it chanced, that one day, in the Chase, I found two fellows, withtheir faces blacked and shirts over their clothes, carrying as prime abuck between them as any was in the park. I was upon them in theinstant--one escaped, but I got hold of the other fellow, and who shouldit prove to be but trusty Phil Hazeldine! Well, I don't know whether itwas right or wrong, but he was my old friend and pot-companion, and Itook his word for amendment in future; and he helped me to hang up thedeer on a tree, and I came back with a horse to carry him to the Lodge,and tell the knight the story, all but Phil's name. But the rogues hadbeen too clever for me; for they had flayed and dressed the deer, andquartered him, and carried him off, and left the hide and horns, with achime, saying,--

  'The haunch to thee, The breast to me, The hide and the horns for the keeper's fee.'

  And this I knew for one of Phil's mad pranks, that he would play inthose days with any lad in the country. But I was so nettled that I madethe deer's hide be curried and dressed by a tanner, and swore that itshould be his winding-sheet or mine; and though I had long repented myrash oath, yet now, Doctor, you see what it is come to--though I forgotit, the devil did not."

  "It was a very wrong thing to make a vow so sinful," said Rochecliffe;"but it would have been greatly worse had you endeavoured to keep it.Therefore, I bid you cheer up," said the good divine; "for in thisunhappy case, I could not have wished, after what I have heard fromPhoebe and yourself, that you should have kept your hand still, though Imay regret that the blow has proved fatal. Nevertheless, thou hast doneeven that which was done by the great and inspired legislator, when hebeheld an Egyptian tyrannizing over a Hebrew, saving that, in the casepresent, it was a female, when, says the Septuagint, _Percussum Egyptiumabscondit sabulo_; the meaning whereof I will explain to you anothertime. Wherefore, I exhort you not to grieve beyond measure; for althoughthis circumstance is unhappy in time and place, yet, from what Phoebehath informed me of yonder wretch's opinions, it is much to be regrettedthat his brains had not been beaten out in his cradle, rather than thathe had grown up to be one of those Grindlestonians, or Muggletonians, inwhom is the perfection of every foul and blasphemous heresy, united withsuch an universal practice of hypocritical assentation as would deceivetheir master, even Satan himself."

  "Nevertheless, sir," said the forester, "I hope you will bestow some ofthe service of the Church on this poor man, as it was his last wish,naming you, sir, at the same time; and unless this were done, I shouldscarce dare to walk out in the dark again for my whole life."

  "Thou art a silly fellow; but if," continued the Doctor, "he named me ashe departed, and desired the last rites of the Church, there was, it maybe, a turning from evil and a seeking to good even in his last moments;and if Heaven granted him grace to form a prayer so fitting, whereforeshould man refuse it? All I fear is the briefness of time."

  "Nay, your reverence may cut the service somewhat short," said Joceline;"assuredly he does not deserve the whole of it; only if something werenot to be done, I believe I should flee the country. They were his lastwords; and methinks he sent Bevis with his glove to put me in mind ofthem."

  "Out, fool! Do you think," said the Doctor, "dead men send gauntlets tothe living, like knights in a romance; or, if so, would they choose dogsto carry their challenges? I tell thee, fool, the cause was naturalenough. Bevis, questing about, found the body, and brought the glove toyou to intimate where it was lying, and to require assistance; for suchis the high instinct of these animals towards one in peril."

  "Nay, if you think so, Doctor," said Joceline--"and, doubtless, I mustsay, Bevis took an interest in the man--if indeed it was not somethingworse in the shape of Bevis, for methought his eyes looked wild andfiery, as if he would have spoken."

  As he talked thus, Joceline rather hung back, and, in doing so,displeased the Doctor, who exclaimed, "Come along, thou lazy laggard!Art thou a soldier, and a brave one, and so much afraid of a dead man?Thou hast killed men in battle and in chase, I warrant thee."

  "Ay, but their backs were to me," said Joceline. "I never saw one ofthem cast back his head, and glare at me as yonder fellow did, his eyeretaining a glance of hatred, mixed with terror and reproach, till itbecame fixed like a jelly. And were you not with me, and my master'sconcerns, and something else, very deeply a
t stake, I promise you Iwould not again look at him for all Woodstock."

  "You must, though," said the Doctor, suddenly pausing, "for here is theplace where he lies. Come hither deep into the copse; take care ofstumbling--Here is a place just fitting, and we will draw the briarsover the grave afterwards."

  As the Doctor thus issued his directions, he assisted also in theexecution of them; and while his attendant laboured to dig a shallow andmishapen grave, a task which the state of the soil, perplexed withroots, and hardened by the influence of the frost, rendered verydifficult, the divine read a few passages out of the funeral service,partly in order to appease the superstitious terrors of Joceline, andpartly because he held it matter of conscience not to deny the Church'srites to one who had requested their aid in extremity.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE THIRTY SECOND.

  Case ye, case ye,--on with your vizards. HENRY IV.

  The company whom we had left in Victor Lee's parlour were about toseparate for the night, and had risen to take a formal leave of eachother, when a tap was heard at the hall-door. Albert, the vidette of theparty, hastened to open it, enjoining, as he left the room, the rest toremain quiet, until he had ascertained the cause of the knocking. Whenhe gained the portal, he called to know who was there, and what theywanted at so late an hour.

  "It is only me," answered a treble voice.

  "And what is your name, my little fellow?" said Albert.

  "Spitfire, sir," replied the voice without.

  "Spitfire?" said Albert.

  "Yes, sir," replied the voice; "all the world calls me so, and ColonelEverard himself. But my name is Spittal for all that."

  "Colonel Everard? arrive you from him?" demanded young Lee.

  "No, sir; I come, sir, from Roger Wildrake, esquire, ofSquattlesea-mere, if it like you," said the boy; "and I have brought atoken to Mistress Lee, which I am to give into her own hands, if youwould but open the door, sir, and let me in--but I can do nothing with athree-inch board between us."

  "It is some freak of that drunken rakehell," said Albert, in a lowvoice, to his sister, who had crept out after him on tiptoe.

  "Yet, let us not be hasty in concluding so," said the young lady; "atthis moment the least trifle may be of consequence.--What tokens hasMaster Wildrake sent me, my little boy?"

  "Nay, nothing very valuable neither," replied the boy; "but he was soanxious you should get it, that he put me out of window as one wouldchuck out a kitten, that I might not be stopped by the soldiers."

  "Hear you?" said Alice to her brother; "undo the gate, for God's sake."Her brother, to whom her feelings of suspicion were now sufficientlycommunicated, opened the gate in haste, and admitted the boy, whoseappearance, not much dissimilar to that of a skinned rabbit in a livery,or a monkey at a fair, would at another time have furnished them withamusement. The urchin messenger entered the hall, making several oddbows, and delivered the woodcock's feather with much ceremony to theyoung lady, assuring her it was the prize she had won upon a wager abouthawking.

  "I prithee, my little man," said Albert, "was your master drunk orsober, when he sent thee all this way with a feather at this time ofnight?"

  "With reverence, sir," said the boy, "he was what he calls sober, andwhat I would call concerned in liquor for any other person."

  "Curse on the drunken coxcomb!" said Albert,--"There is a tester forthee, boy, and tell thy master to break his jests on suitable persons,and at fitting times."

  "Stay yet a minute," exclaimed Alice; "we must not go too fast--thiscraves wary walking."

  "A feather," said Albert; "all this work about a feather! Why, DoctorRochecliffe, who can suck intelligence out of every trifle as a magpiewould suck an egg, could make nothing of this."

  "Let us try what we can do without him then," said Alice. Thenaddressing herself to the boy,--"So there are strangers at yourmaster's?"

  "At Colonel Everard's, madam, which is the same thing," said Spitfire.

  "And what manner of strangers," said Alice; "guests, I suppose?"

  "Ay, mistress," said the boy, "a sort of guests that make themselveswelcome wherever they come, if they meet not a welcome from theirlandlord--soldiers, madam."

  "The men that have long been lying at Woodstock," said Albert.

  "No, sir," said Spitfire, "new comers, with gallant buff-coats and steelbreastplates; and their commander--your honour and your ladyship neversaw such a man--at least I am sure Bill Spitfire never did."

  "Was he tall or short?" said Albert, now much alarmed.

  "Neither one nor other," said the boy; "stout made, with slouchingshoulders; a nose large, and a face one would not like to say No to. Hehad several officers with him, I saw him but for a moment, but I shallnever forget him while I live."

  "You are right," said Albert Lee to his sister, pulling her to one side,"quite right--the Archfiend himself is upon us!"

  "And the feather," said Alice, whom fear had rendered apprehensive ofslight tokens, "means flight--and a woodcock is a bird of passage."

  "You have hit it," said her brother; "but the time has taken us cruellyshort. Give the boy a trifle more--nothing that can excite suspicion,and dismiss him. I must summon Rochecliffe and Joceline."

  He went accordingly, but, unable to find those he sought, he returnedwith hasty steps to the parlour, where, in his character of Louis, thepage was exerting himself to detain the old knight, who, while laughingat the tales he told him, was anxious to go to see what was passing inthe hall.

  "What is the matter, Albert?" said the old man; "who calls at the Lodgeat so undue an hour, and wherefore is the hall-door opened to them? Iwill not have my rules, and the regulations laid down for keeping thishouse, broken through, because I am old and poor. Why answer you not?why keep a chattering with Louis Kerneguy, and neither of you all thewhile minding what I say?--Daughter Alice, have you sense and civilityenough to tell me, what or who it is that is admitted here contrary tomy general orders?"

  "No one, sir," replied Alice; "a boy brought a message, which I fear isan alarming one."

  "There is only fear, sir," said Albert, stepping forward, "that whereaswe thought to have stayed with you till to-morrow, we must now takefarewell of you to-night."

  "Not so, brother," said Alice, "you must stay and aid the defencehere--if you and Master Kerneguy are both missed, the pursuit will beinstant, and probably successful; but if you stay, the hiding-placesabout this house will take some time to search. You can change coatswith Kerneguy too."

  "Right, noble wench," said Albert; "most excellent--yes--Louis, I remainas Kerneguy, you fly as young Master Lee."

  "I cannot see the justice of that," said Charles.

  "Nor I neither," said the knight, interfering. "Men come and go, layschemes, and alter them, in my house, without deigning to consult me!And who is Master Kerneguy, or what is he to me, that my son must stayand take the chance of mischief, and this your Scotch page is to escapein his dress? I will have no such contrivance carried into effect,though it were the finest cobweb that was ever woven in DoctorRochecliffe's brains.--I wish you no ill, Louis; thou art a lively boy;but I have been somewhat too lightly treated in this, man."

  "I am fully of your opinion, Sir Henry," replied the person whom headdressed. "You have been, indeed, repaid for your hospitality by wantof that confidence, which could never have been so justly reposed. Butthe moment is come, when I must say, in a word, I am that unfortunateCharles Stewart, whose lot it has been to become the cause of ruin tohis best friends, and whose present residence in your family threatensto bring destruction to you, and all around you."

  "Master Louis Kerneguy," said the knight very angrily, "I will teach youto choose the subjects of your mirth better when you address them to me;and, moreover, very little provocation would make me desire to have anounce or two of that malapert blood from you."

  "Be still, sir, for God's sake!" said Albert to his father. "This isindeed THE KING; and such is the dang
er of his person, that every momentwe waste may bring round a fatal catastrophe."

  "Good God!" said the father, clasping his hands together, and about todrop on his knees, "has my earnest wish been accomplished! and is it insuch a manner as to make me pray it had never taken place!"

  He then attempted to bend his knee to the King--kissed his hand, whilelarge tears trickled from his eyes--then said, "Pardon, my Lord--yourMajesty, I mean--permit me to sit in your presence but one instant tillmy blood beats more freely, and then"--

  Charles raised his ancient and faithful subject from the ground; andeven in that moment of fear, and anxiety, and danger, insisted onleading him to his seat, upon which he sunk in apparent exhaustion, hishead drooping upon his long white beard, and big unconscious tearsmingling with its silver hairs. Alice and Albert remained with the King,arguing and urging his instant departure.

  "The horses are at the under-keeper's hut," said Albert, "and the relaysonly eighteen or twenty miles off. If the horses can but carry you sofar"--

  "Will you not rather," interrupted Alice, "trust to the concealments ofthis place, so numerous and so well tried--Rochecliffe's apartments, andthe yet farther places of secrecy?"

  "Alas!" said Albert, "I know them only by name. My father was sworn toconfide them to but one man, and he had chosen Rochecliffe."

  "I prefer taking the field to any hiding-hole in England," said theKing. "Could I but find my way to this hut where the horses are, I wouldtry what arguments whip and spur could use to get them to therendezvous, where I am to meet Sir Thomas Acland and fresh cattle. Comewith me, Colonel Lee, and let us run for it. The roundheads have beat usin battle; but if it come to a walk or a race, I think I can show whichhas the best mettle."

  "But then," said Albert, "we lose all the time which may otherwise begained by the defence of this house--leaving none here but my poorfather, incapable from his state of doing any thing; and you will beinstantly pursued by fresh horses, while ours are unfit for the road.Oh, where is the villain Joceline!"

  "What can have become of Doctor Rochecliffe?" said Alice; "he that is soready with advice;--where can they be gone? Oh, if my father could butrouse himself!"

  "Your father _is_ roused," said Sir Henry, rising and stepping up tothem with all the energy of full manhood in his countenance andmotions--"I did but gather my thoughts--for when did they fail a Leewhen his King needed counsel or aid?" He then began to speak, with theready and distinct utterance of a general at the head of an army,ordering every motion for attack and defence--unmoved himself, and hisown energy compelling obedience, and that cheerful obedience, from allwho heard him. "Daughter," he said, "beat up dame Jellicot--Let Phoeberise if she were dying, and secure doors and windows."

  "That hath been done regularly since--we have been thus far honoured,"said his daughter, looking at the King--"yet, let them go through thechambers once more." And Alice retired to give the orders, and presentlyreturned.

  The old knight proceeded, in the same decided tone of promptitude anddispatch--"Which is your first stage?"

  "Gray's--Rothebury, by Henley, where Sir Thomas Acland and young Knollesare to have horses in readiness," said Albert; "but how to get therewith our weary cattle?"

  "Trust me for that," said the knight; and proceeding with the same toneof authority--"Your Majesty must instantly to Joceline's lodge," hesaid, "there are your horses and your means of flight. The secret placesof this house, well managed, will keep the rebel dogs in play two orthree hours good--Rochecliffe is, I fear, kidnapped, and his Independenthath betrayed him--Would I had judged the villain better! I would havestruck him through at one of our trials of fence, with an unbatedweapon, as Will says.--But for your guide when on horseback, half abowshot from Joceline's hut is that of old Martin the verdurer; he is ascore of years older than I, but as fresh as an old oak--beat up hisquarters, and let him ride with you for death and life. He will guideyou to your relay, for no fox that ever earthed in the Chase knows thecountry so well for seven leagues around."

  "Excellent, my dearest father, excellent," said Albert; "I had forgotMartin the verdurer."

  "Young men forget all," answered the knight--"Alas, that the limbsshould fail, when the head which can best direct them--is come perhapsto its wisest!"

  "But the tired horses," said the King--"could we not get fresh cattle?"

  "Impossible at this time of night," answered Sir Henry; "but tiredhorses may do much with care and looking to." He went hastily to thecabinet which stood in one of the oriel windows, and searched forsomething in the drawers, pulling out one after another.

  "We lose time, father," said Albert, afraid that the intelligence andenergy which the old man displayed had been but a temporary flash of thelamp, which was about to relapse into evening twilight.

  "Go to, sir boy," said his father, sharply; "is it for thee to tax me inthis presence!--Know, that were the whole roundheads that are out ofhell in present assemblage round Woodstock, I could send away the RoyalHope of England by a way that the wisest of them could never guess.--Alice, my love, ask no questions, but speed to the kitchen, and fetch aslice or two of beef, or better of venison; cut them long, and thin,d'ye mark me"--

  "This is wandering of the mind," said Albert apart to the King. "We dohim wrong, and your Majesty harm, to listen to him."

  "I think otherwise," said Alice, "and I know my father better than you."So saying, she left the room, to fulfil her father's orders.

  "I think so, too," said Charles--"in Scotland the Presbyterianministers, when thundering in their pulpits on my own sins and those ofmy house, took the freedom to call me to my face Jeroboam, or Rehoboam,or some such name, for following the advice of young counsellors--Oddsfish, I will take that of the grey beard for once, for never saw Imore sharpness and decision than in the countenance of that noble oldman."

  By this time Sir Henry had found what he was seeking. "In this tin box,"he said, "are six balls prepared of the most cordial spices, mixed withmedicaments of the choicest and most invigorating quality. Given fromhour to hour, wrapt in a covering of good beef or venison, a horse ofspirit will not flag for five hours, at the speed of fifteen miles anhour; and, please God, the fourth of the time places your Majesty insafety--what remains may be useful on some future occasion. Martin knowshow to administer them; and Albert's weary cattle shall be ready, ifwalked gently for ten minutes, in running to devour the way, as old Willsays--nay, waste not time in speech, your Majesty does me but too muchhonour in using what is your own.--Now, see if the coast is clear,Albert, and let his Majesty set off instantly--We will play our partsbut ill, if any take the chase after him for these two hours that arebetween night and day--Change dresses, as you proposed, in yondersleeping apartment--something may be made of that too."

  "But, good Sir Henry," said the King, "your zeal overlooks a principalpoint. I have, indeed, come from the under-keeper's hut you mention tothis place, but it was by daylight, and under guidance--I shall neverfind my way thither in utter darkness, and without a guide--I fear youmust let the Colonel go with me; and I entreat and command, you will putyourself to no trouble or risk to defend the house--only make what delayyou can in showing its secret recesses."

  "Rely on me, my royal and liege Sovereign," said Sir Henry; "but Albert_must_ remain here, and Alice shall guide your Majesty to Joceline's hutin his stead."

  "Alice!" said Charles, stepping back in surprise--"why, it is darknight--and--and--and--" He glanced his eye towards Alice, who had bythis time returned to the apartment, and saw doubt and apprehension inher look; an intimation, that the reserve under which he had placed hisdisposition for gallantry, since the morning of the proposed duel, hadnot altogether effaced the recollection of his previous conduct. Hehastened to put a strong negative upon a proposal which appeared so muchto embarrass her. "It is impossible for me, indeed, Sir Henry, to useAlice's services--I must walk as if blood-hounds were at my heels."

  "Alice shall trip it," said the knight, "with any wench in Oxfordshire;and what woul
d your Majesty's best speed avail, if you know not the wayto go?"

  "Nay, nay, Sir Henry," continued the King, "the night is too dark--westay too long--I will find it myself."

  "Lose no time in exchanging your dress with Albert," said SirHenry--"leave me to take care of the rest."

  Charles, still inclined to expostulate, withdrew, however, into theapartment where young Lee and he were to exchange clothes; while SirHenry said to his daughter, "Get thee a cloak, wench, and put on thythickest shoes. Thou might'st have ridden Pixie, but he is somethingspirited, and them art a timid horsewoman, and ever wert so--the onlyweakness I have known of thee."

  "But, my father," said Alice, fixing her eyes earnestly on Sir Henry'sface, "must I really go along with the King? might not Phoebe, or dameJellicot, go with us?"

  "No--no--no," answered Sir Henry; "Phoebe, the silly slut, has, as youwell know, been in fits to-night, and I take it, such a walk as you musttake is no charm for hysterics--Dame Jellicot hobbles as slow as abroken-winded mare--besides, her deafness, were there occasion to speakto her--No--no--you shall go alone and entitle yourself to have itwritten on your tomb, 'Here lies she who saved the King!'--And, harkyou, do not think of returning to-night, but stay at the verdurer's withhis niece--the Park and Chase will shortly be filled with our enemies,and whatever chances here you will learn early enough in the morning."

  "And what is it I may then learn?" said Alice--"Alas, who can tell?--O,dearest father, let me stay and share your fate! I will pull off thetimorous woman, and fight for the King, if it be necessary.--But--Icannot think of becoming his only attendant in the dark night, andthrough a road so lonely."

  "How!" said the knight, raising his voice; "do you bring ceremonious andsilly scruples forward, when the King's safety, nay his life is atstake! By this mark of loyalty," stroking his grey beard as he spoke,"could I think thou wert other than becomes a daughter of the house ofLee, I would"--

  At this moment the King and Albert interrupted him by entering theapartment, having exchanged dresses, and, from their stature, bearingsome resemblance to each other, though Charles was evidently a plain,and Lee a handsome young man. Their complexions were different; but thedifference could not be immediately noticed, Albert having adopted ablack peruque, and darkened his eyebrows.

  Albert Lee walked out to the front of the mansion, to give one turnaround the Lodge, in order to discover in what direction any enemiesmight be approaching, that they might judge of the road which it wassafest for the royal fugitive to adopt. Meanwhile the King, who wasfirst in entering the apartment, had heard a part of the angry answerwhich the old knight made to his daughter, and was at no loss to guessthe subject of his resentment. He walked up to him with the dignitywhich he perfectly knew how to assume when he chose it.

  "Sir Henry," he said, "it is our pleasure, nay our command, that youforbear all exertion of paternal authority in this matter. MistressAlice, I am sure, must have good and strong reasons for what she wishes;and I should never pardon myself were she placed in an unpleasantsituation on my account. I am too well acquainted with woods andwildernesses to fear losing my way among my native oaks of Woodstock."

  "Your Majesty shall not incur the danger," said Alice, her temporaryhesitation entirely removed by the calm, clear, and candid manner inwhich Charles uttered these last words. "You shall run no risk that Ican prevent; and the unhappy chances of the times in which I have livedhave from experience made the forest as well known to me by night as byday. So, if you scorn not my company, let us away instantly."

  "If your company is given with good-will, I accept it with gratitude,"replied the monarch.

  "Willingly," she said, "most willingly. Let me be one of the first toshow that zeal and that confidence, which I trust all England will oneday emulously display in behalf of your Majesty."

  She uttered these words with an alacrity of spirit, and made thetrifling change of habit with a speed and dexterity, which showed thatall her fears were gone, and that her heart was entirely in the missionon which her father had dispatched her.

  "All is safe around," said Albert Lee, showing himself; "you may takewhich passage you will--the most private is the best."

  Charles went gracefully up to Sir Henry Lee ere his departure, and tookhim by the hand.--"I am too proud to make professions," he said, "whichI may be too poor ever to realize. But while Charles Stewart lives, helives the obliged and indebted debtor of Sir Henry Lee."

  "Say not so, please your Majesty, say not so," exclaimed the old man,struggling with the hysterical sobs which rose to his throat. "He whomight claim all, cannot become indebted by accepting some small part."

  "Farewell, good friend, farewell!" said the King; "think of me as a son,a brother to Albert and to Alice, who are, I see, already impatient.Give me a father's blessing, and let me be gone."

  "The God, through whom kings reign, bless your Majesty," said Sir Henry,kneeling and turning his reverend face and clasped hands up toHeaven--"The Lord of Hosts bless you, and save your Majesty from yourpresent dangers, and bring you in his own good time to the safepossession of the crown that is your due!"

  Charles received this blessing like that of a father, and Alice and hedeparted on their journey.

  As they left the apartment, the old knight let his hands sink gently ashe concluded this fervent ejaculation, his head sinking at the sametime. His son dared not disturb his meditation, yet feared the strengthof his feelings might overcome that of his constitution, and that hemight fall into a swoon. At length, he ventured to approach andgradually touch him. The old knight started to his feet, and was at oncethe same alert, active-minded, forecasting director, which he had shownhimself a little before.

  "You are right, boy," he said, "we must be up and doing. They lie, theroundheaded traitors, that call him dissolute and worthless! He hathfeelings worthy the son of the blessed Martyr. You saw, even in theextremity of danger, he would have perilled his safety rather than takeAlice's guidance when the silly wench seemed in doubt about going.Profligacy is intensely selfish, and thinks not of the feelings ofothers. But hast thou drawn bolt and bar after them? I vow I scarce sawwhen they left the hall."

  "I let them out at the little postern," said the Colonel; "and when Ireturned, I was afraid I had found you ill."

  "Joy--joy, only joy, Albert--I cannot allow a thought of doubt to crossmy breast. God will not desert the descendant of an hundred kings--therightful heir will not be given up to the ruffians. There was a tear inhis eye as he took leave of me--I am sure of it. Wouldst not die forhim, boy?"

  "If I lay my life down for him to-night," said Albert, "I would onlyregret it, because I should not hear of his escape to-morrow."

  "Well, let us to this gear," said the knight; "think'st thou know'stenough of his manner, clad as thou art in his dress, to induce the womento believe thee to be the page Kerneguy?"

  "Umph," replied Albert, "it is not easy to bear out a personification ofthe King, when women are in the case. But there is only a very littlelight below, and I can try."

  "Do so instantly," said his father; "the knaves will be here presently."Albert accordingly left the apartment, while the knight continued--"Ifthe women be actually persuaded that Kerneguy be still here, it will addstrength to my plot--the beagles will open on a false scent, and theroyal stag be safe in cover ere they regain the slot of him. Then todraw them on from hiding-place to hiding-place! Why, the east will begrey before they have sought the half of them!--Yes, I will play atbob-cherry with them, hold the bait to their nose which they are neverto gorge upon! I will drag a trail for them which will take them sometime to puzzle out.--But at what cost do I do this?" continued the oldknight, interrupting his own joyous soliloquy--"Oh, Absalom, Absalom, myson! my son!--But let him go; he can but die as his fathers have died;and in the cause for which they lived. But he comes--Hush!--Albert, hastthou succeeded? hast thou taken royalty upon thee so as to passcurrent?"

  "I have, sir," replied Albert; "the women will swear that Louis Kerneguywas in
the house this very last minute."

  "Right, for they are good and faithful creatures," said the knight, "andwould swear what was for his Majesty's safety at any rate; yet they willdo it with more nature and effect, if they believe they are swearingtruth.--How didst thou impress the deceit upon them?"

  "By a trifling adoption of the royal manner, sir, not worth mentioning."

  "Out, rogue!" replied the knight. "I fear the King's character willsuffer under your mummery."

  "Umph," said Albert, muttering what he dared not utter aloud--"were I tofollow the example close up, I know whose character would be in thegreatest danger."

  "Well, now we must adjust the defence of the outworks, the signals, &c.betwixt us both, and the best way to baffle the enemy for the longesttime possible." He then again had recourse to the secret drawers of hiscabinet, and pulled out a piece of parchment, on which was a plan."This," said he, "is a scheme of the citadel, as I call it, which mayhold out long enough after you have been forced to evacuate the placesof retreat you are already acquainted with. The ranger was always swornto keep this plan secret, save from one person only, in case of suddendeath.--Let us sit down and study it together."

  They accordingly adjusted their measures in a manner which will bettershow itself from what afterwards took place, than were we to state thevarious schemes which they proposed, and provisions made against eventsthat did not arrive.

  At length young Lee, armed and provided with some food and liquor, tookleave of his father, and went and shut himself up in Victor Lee'sapartment, from which was an opening to the labyrinth of privateapartments, or hiding-places, that had served the associates so well inthe fantastic tricks which they had played off at the expense of theCommissioners of the Commonwealth.

  "I trust," said Sir Henry, sitting down by his desk, after having takena tender farewell of his son, "that Rochecliffe has not blabbed out thesecret of the plot to yonder fellow Tomkins, who was not unlikely toprate of it out of school.--But here am I seated--perhaps for the lasttime, with my Bible on the one hand, and old Will on the other,prepared, thank God, to die as I have lived.--I marvel they come notyet," he said, after waiting for some time--"I always thought the devilhad a smarter spur to give his agents, when they were upon his ownspecial service."

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE THIRTY-THIRD.

  But see, his face is black, and full of blood; His eye-balls farther out than when he lived, Staring full ghastly, like a strangled man; His hair uprear'd--his nostrils stretch'd with struggling, His hands abroad display'd, as one who grasp'd And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdued. HENRY VI. PART I.

  Had those whose unpleasant visit Sir Henry expected come straight to theLodge, instead of staying for three hours at Woodstock, they would havesecured their prey. But the Familist, partly to prevent the King'sescape, partly to render himself of more importance in the affair, hadrepresented the party at the Lodge as being constantly on the alert, andhad therefore inculcated upon Cromwell the necessity of his remainingquiet until he (Tomkins) should appear to give him notice that thehousehold were retired to rest. On this condition he undertook, not onlyto discover the apartment in which the unfortunate Charles slept, but,if possible, to find some mode of fastening the door on the outside, soas to render flight impossible. He had also promised to secure the keyof a postern, by which the soldiers might be admitted into the housewithout exciting alarm. Nay, the matter might, by means of his localknowledge, be managed, as he represented it, with such security, that hewould undertake to place his Excellency, or whomsoever he might appointfor the service, by the side of Charles Stewart's bed, ere he had sleptoff the last night's claret. Above all, he had stated, that, from thestyle of the old house, there were many passages and posterns which mustbe carefully guarded before the least alarm was caught by those within,otherwise the success of the whole enterprise might be endangered. Hehad therefore besought Cromwell to wait for him at the village, if hefound him not there on his arrival; and assured him that the marchingand countermarching of soldiers was at present so common, that even ifany news were carried to the Lodge that fresh troops had arrived in theborough, so ordinary a circumstance would not give them the least alarm.He recommended that the soldiers chosen for this service should be suchas could be depended upon--no fainters in spirit--none who turn backfrom Mount Gilead for fear of the Amalekites, but men of war, accustomedto strike with the sword, and to need no second blow. Finally, herepresented that it would be wisely done if the General should putPearson, or any other officer whom he could completely trust, into thecommand of the detachment, and keep his own person, if he should thinkit proper to attend, secret even from the soldiers.

  All this man's counsels Cromwell had punctually followed. He hadtravelled in the van of this detachment of one hundred picked soldiers,whom he had selected for the service, men of dauntless resolution, bredin a thousand dangers, and who were steeled against all feelings ofhesitation and compassion, by the deep and gloomy fanaticism which wastheir chief principle of action--men to whom, as their General, and noless as the chief among the Elect, the commands of Oliver were like acommission from the Deity.

  Great and deep was the General's mortification at the unexpected absenceof the personage on whose agency he so confidently reckoned, and manyconjectures he formed as to the cause of such mysterious conduct. Sometimes he thought Tomkins had been overcome by liquor, a frailty to whichCromwell knew him to be addicted; and when he held this opinion hedischarged his wrath in maledictions, which, of a different kind fromthe wild oaths and curses of the cavaliers, had yet in them as muchblasphemy, and more determined malevolence. At other times he thoughtsome unexpected alarm, or perhaps some drunken cavalier revel, hadcaused the family of Woodstock Lodge to make later hours than usual. Tothis conjecture, which appeared the most probable of any, his mind oftenrecurred; and it was the hope that Tomkins would still appear at therendezvous, which induced him to remain at the borough, anxious toreceive communication from his emissary, and afraid of endangering thesuccess of the enterprise by any premature exertion on his own part.

  In the meantime, Cromwell, finding it no longer possible to conceal hispersonal presence, disposed of every thing so as to be ready at aminute's notice. Half his soldiers he caused to dismount, and had thehorses put into quarters; the other half were directed to keep theirhorses saddled, and themselves ready to mount at a moment's notice. Themen were brought into the house by turns, and had some refreshment,leaving a sufficient guard on the horses, which was changed from time totime.

  Thus Cromwell waited with no little uncertainty, often casting ananxious eye upon Colonel Everard, who, he suspected, could, if he choseit, well supply the place of his absent confidant. Everard endured thiscalmly, with unaltered countenance, and brow neither ruffled nordejected.

  Midnight at length tolled, and it became necessary to take some decisivestep. Tomkins might have been treacherous; or, a suspicion whichapproached more near to the reality, his intrigue might have beendiscovered, and he himself murdered or kidnapped by the vengefulroyalists. In a word, if any use was to be made of the chance whichfortune afforded of securing the most formidable claimant of the supremepower, which he already aimed at, no farther time was to be lost. He atlength gave orders to Pearson to get the men under arms; he directed himconcerning the mode of forming them, and that they should march with theutmost possible silence; or as it was given out in the orders, "Even asGideon marched in silence when he went down against the camp of theMidianites, with only Phurah his servant. Peradventure," continued thisstrange document, "we too may learn of what yonder Midianites havedreamed."

  A single patrol, followed by a corporal and five steady, experiencedsoldiers, formed the advanced guard of the party; then followed the mainbody. A rear-guard of ten men guarded Everard and the minister. Cromwellrequired the attendance of the former, as it might be necessary toexamine him, or confront him with others; and he carried MasterHoldenough with him, b
ecause he might escape if left behind, and perhapsraise some tumult in the village. The Presbyterians, though they notonly concurred with, but led the way in the civil war, were at itsconclusion highly dissatisfied with the ascendency of the militarysectaries, and not to be trusted as cordial agents in anything wheretheir interest was concerned. The infantry being disposed of as we havenoticed, marched off from the left of their line, Cromwell and Pearson,both on foot, keeping at the head of the centre, or main body of thedetachment. They were all armed with petronels, short guns similar tothe modern carabine, and, like them, used by horsemen. They marched inthe most profound silence and with the utmost regularity, the whole bodymoving like one man.

  About one hundred yards behind the rearmost of the dismounted party,came the troopers who remained on horseback; and it seemed as if eventhe irrational animals were sensible to Cromwell's orders, for thehorses did not neigh, and even appeared to place their feet on the earthcautiously, and with less noise than usual.

  Their leader, full of anxious thoughts, never spoke, save to enforce bywhispers his caution respecting silence, while the men, surprised anddelighted to find themselves under the command of their renownedGeneral, and destined, doubtless, for some secret service of highimport, used the utmost precaution in attending to his reiteratedorders.

  They marched down the street of the little borough in the order we havementioned. Few of the townsmen were abroad; and one or two, who hadprotracted the orgies of the evening to that unusual hour, were toohappy to escape the notice of a strong party of soldiers, who oftenacted in the character of police, to inquire about their purpose forbeing under arms so late, or the route which they were pursuing.

  The external gate of the Chase had, ever since the party had arrived atWoodstock, been strictly guarded by three file of troopers, to cut offall communication between the Lodge and the town. Spitfire, Wildrake'semissary, who had often been a-bird-nesting, or on similar mischievousexcursions in the forest, had evaded these men's vigilance by climbingover a breach, with which he was well acquainted, in a different part ofthe wall.

  Between this party and the advanced guard of Cromwell's detachment, awhispered challenge was exchanged, according to the rules of discipline.The infantry entered the Park, and were followed by the cavalry, whowere directed to avoid the hard road, and ride as much as possible uponthe turf which bordered on the avenue. Here, too, an additionalprecaution was used, a file or two of foot soldiers being detached tosearch the woods on either hand, and make prisoner, or, in the event ofresistance, put to death, any whom they might find lurking there, underwhat pretence soever.

  Meanwhile, the weather began to show itself as propitious to Cromwell,as he had found most incidents in the course of his successful career.The grey mist, which had hitherto obscured everything, and renderedmarching in the wood embarrassing and difficult, had now given way tothe moon, which, after many efforts, at length forced her way throughthe vapour, and hung her dim dull cresset in the heavens, which sheenlightened, as the dying lamp of an anchorite does the cell in which hereposes. The party were in sight of the front of the palace, whenHoldenough whispered to Everard, as they walked near each other--"See yenot, yonder flutters the mysterious light in the turret of theincontinent Rosamond? This night will try whether the devil of theSectaries or the devil of the Malignants shall prove the stronger. O,sing jubilee, for the kingdom of Satan is divided against itself!"

  Here the divine was interrupted by a non-commissioned officer, who camehastily, yet with noiseless steps, to say, in a low stern whisper--"Silence, prisoner in the rear--silence on pain of death."

  A moment afterwards the whole party stopped their march, the word haltbeing passed from one to another, and instantly obeyed.

  The cause of this interruption was the hasty return of one of theflanking party to the main body, bringing news to Cromwell that they hadseen a light in the wood at some distance on the left.

  "What can it be?" said Cromwell, his low stern voice, even in a whisper,making itself distinctly heard. "Does it move, or is it stationary?"

  "So far as we can judge, it moveth not," answered the trooper.

  "Strange--there is no cottage near the spot where it is seen."

  "So please your Excellency, it may be a device of Sathan," said CorporalHumgudgeon, snuffing through his nose; "he is mighty powerful in theseparts of late."

  "So please your idiocy, thou art an ass," said Cromwell; but, instantlyrecollecting that the corporal had been one of the adjutators ortribunes of the common soldiers, and was therefore to be treated withsuitable respect, he said, "Nevertheless, if it be the device of Satan,please it the Lord we will resist him, and the foul slave shall fly fromus.--Pearson," he said, resuming his soldierlike brevity, "take fourfile, and see what is yonder--No--the knaves may shrink from thee. Gothou straight to the Lodge--invest it in the way we agreed, so that abird shall not escape out of it--form an outward and an inward ring ofsentinels, but give no alarm until I come. Should any attempt to escape,KILL them."--He spoke that command with terrible emphasis.--"Kill themon the spot," he repeated, "be they who or what they will. Better sothan trouble the Commonwealth with prisoners."

  Pearson heard, and proceeded to obey his commander's orders.

  Meanwhile, the future Protector disposed the small force which remainedwith him in such a manner that they should approach from differentpoints at once the light which excited his suspicions, and gave themorders to creep as near to it as they could, taking care not to loseeach other's support, and to be ready to rush in at the same moment,when he should give the sign, which was to be a loud whistle. Anxious toascertain the truth with his own eyes, Cromwell, who had by instinct allthe habits of military foresight, which, in others, are the result ofprofessional education and long experience, advanced upon the object ofhis curiosity. He skulked from tree to tree with the light step andprowling sagacity of an Indian bush-fighter; and before any of his menhad approached so near as to descry them, he saw, by the lantern whichwas placed on the ground, two men, who had been engaged in digging whatseemed to be an ill-made grave. Near them lay extended something wrappedin a deer's hide, which greatly resembled the dead body of a man. Theyspoke together in a low voice, yet so that their dangerous auditor couldperfectly overhear what they said.

  "It is done at last," said one; "the worst and hardest labour I ever didin my life. I believe there is no luck about me left. My very arms feelas if they did not belong to me; and, strange to tell, toil as hard as Iwould, I could not gather warmth in my limbs."

  "I have warmed me enough," said Rochecliffe, breathing short withfatigue.

  "But the cold lies at my heart," said Joceline; "I scarce hope ever tobe warm again. It is strange, and a charm seems to be on us. Here havewe been nigh two hours in doing what Diggon the sexton would have doneto better purpose in half a one."

  "We are wretched spadesmen enough," answered Dr. Rochecliffe. "Every manto his tools--thou to thy bugle-horn, and I to my papers in cipher.--Butdo not be discouraged; it is the frost on the ground, and the number ofroots, which rendered our task difficult. And now, all due rites done tothis unhappy man, and having read over him the service of the Church,_valeat quantum_, let us lay him decently in this place of last repose;there will be small lack of him above ground. So cheer up thy heart,man, like a soldier as thou art; we have read the service over his body;and should times permit it, we will have him removed to consecratedground, though he is all unworthy of such favour. Here, help me to layhim in the earth; we will drag briers and thorns over the spot, when wehave shovelled dust upon dust; and do thou think of this chance moremanfully; and remember, thy secret is in thine own keeping."

  "I cannot answer for that," said Joceline. "Methinks the very nightwinds among the leaves will tell of what we have been doing--methinksthe trees themselves will say, 'there is a dead corpse lies among ourroots.' Witnesses are soon found when blood hath been spilled."

  "They are so, and that right early," exclaimed Cromwell, starting fromthe th
icket, laying hold on Joceline, and putting a pistol to his head.At any other period of his life, the forester would, even against theodds of numbers, have made a desperate resistance; but the horror he hadfelt at the slaughter of an old companion, although in defence of hisown life, together with fatigue and surprise, had altogether unmannedhim, and he was seized as easily as a sheep is secured by the butcher.Dr. Rochecliffe offered some resistance, but was presently secured bythe soldiers who pressed around him.

  "Look, some of you," said Cromwell, "what corpse this is upon whom theselewd sons of Belial have done a murder--Corporal Grace-be-hereHumgudgeon, see if thou knowest the face."

  "I profess I do, even as I should do mine own in a mirror," snuffled thecorporal, after looking on the countenance of the dead man by the helpof the lantern. "Of a verity it is our trusty brother in the faith,Joseph Tomkins."

  "Tomkins!" exclaimed Cromwell, springing forward and satisfying himselfwith a glance at the features of the corpse--"Tomkins!--and murdered, asthe fracture of the temple intimates!--dogs that ye are, confess thetruth--You have murdered him because you have discovered his treachery--I should say his true spirit towards the Commonwealth of England, andhis hatred of those complots in which you would have engaged his honestsimplicity."

  "Ay," said Grace-be-here Humgudgeon, "and then to misuse his dead bodywith your papistical doctrines, as if you had crammed cold porridge intoits cold mouth. I pray thee, General, let these men's bonds be madestrong."

  "Forbear, corporal," said Cromwell; "our time presses.--Friend, toyou,--whom I believe to be Doctor Anthony Rochecliffe by name andsurname, I have to give the choice of being hanged at daybreakto-morrow, or making atonement for the murder of one of the Lord'speople, by telling what thou knowest of the secrets which are in yonderhouse."

  "Truly, sir," replied Rochecliffe, "you found me but in my duty as aclergyman, interring the dead; and respecting answering your questions,I am determined myself, and do advise my fellow-sufferer on thisoccasion"--

  "Remove him," said Cromwell; "I know his stiffneckedness of old, thoughI have made him plough in my furrow, when he thought he was turning uphis own swathe--Remove him to the rear, and bring hither the otherfellow.--Come thou here--this way--closer--closer.--CorporalGrace-be-here, do thou keep thy hand upon the belt with which he isbound. We must take care of our life for the sake of this distractedcountry, though, lack-a-day, for its own proper worth we could peril itfor a pin's point.--Now, mark me, fellow, choose betwixt buying thy lifeby a full confession, or being tucked presently up to one of these oldoaks--How likest thou that?"

  "Truly, master," answered the under-keeper, affecting more rusticitythan was natural to him, (for his frequent intercourse with Sir HenryLee had partly softened and polished his manners,) "I think the oak islike to bear a lusty acorn--that is all."

  "Dally not with me, friend," continued Oliver; "I profess to thee insincerity I am no trifler. What guests have you seen at yonder housecalled the Lodge?"

  "Many a brave guest in my day, I'se warrant ye, master," said Joceline."Ah, to see how the chimneys used to smoke some twelve years back! Ah,sir, a sniff of it would have dined a poor man."

  "Out, rascal!" said the General, "dost thou jeer me? Tell me at oncewhat guests have been of late in the Lodge--and look thee, friend, beassured, that in rendering me this satisfaction, thou shalt not onlyrescue thy neck from the halter, but render also an acceptable serviceto the State, and one which I will see fittingly rewarded. For, truly, Iam not of those who would have the rain fall only on the proud andstately plants, but rather would, so far as my poor wishes and prayersare concerned, that it should also fall upon the lowly and humble grassand corn, that the heart of the husbandman may be rejoiced, and that asthe cedar of Lebanon waxes in its height, in its boughs, and in itsroots, so may the humble and lowly hyssop that groweth upon the wallsflourish, and--and, truly--Understand'st thou me, knave?"

  "Not entirely, if it please your honour," said Joceline; "but it soundsas if you were preaching a sermon, and has a marvellous twang ofdoctrine with it."

  "Then, in one word--thou knowest there is one Louis Kerneguy, orCarnego, or some such name, in hiding at the Lodge yonder?"

  "Nay, sir," replied the under-keeper, "there have been many coming andgoing since Worcester-field; and how should I know who they are?--myservice is out of doors, I trow."

  "A thousand pounds," said Cromwell, "do I tell down to thee, if thoucanst place that boy in my power."

  "A thousand pounds is a marvellous matter, sir," said Joceline; "but Ihave more blood on my hand than I like already. I know not how the priceof life may thrive--and, 'scape or hang, I have no mind to try."

  "Away with him to the rear," said the General; "and let him not speakwith his yoke-fellow yonder--Fool that I am, to waste time in expectingto get milk from mules.--Move on towards the Lodge."

  They moved with the same silence as formerly, notwithstanding thedifficulties which they encountered from being unacquainted with theroad and its various intricacies. At length they were challenged, in alow voice, by one of their own sentinels, two concentric circles of whomhad been placed around the Lodge, so close to each other, as to precludethe possibility of an individual escaping from within. The outer guardwas maintained partly by horse upon the roads and open lawn, and wherethe ground was broken and bushy, by infantry. The inner circle wasguarded by foot soldiers only. The whole were in the highest degreealert, expecting some interesting and important consequences from theunusual expedition on which they were engaged.

  "Any news, Pearson?" said the General to his aide-de-camp, who cameinstantly to report to his superior.

  He received for answer, "None."

  Cromwell led his officer forward just opposite to the door of the Lodge,and there paused betwixt the circles of guards, so that theirconversation could not be overheard.

  He then pursued his enquiry, demanding, "Were there any lights--anyappearances of stirring--any attempt at sally--any preparation fordefence?"

  "All as silent as the valley of the shadow of death--Even as the vale ofJehosaphat."

  "Pshaw! tell me not of Jehosaphat, Pearson," said Cromwell. "These wordsare good for others, but not for thee. Speak plainly, and like a bluntsoldier as thou art. Each man hath his own mode of speech; andbluntness, not sanctity, is thine."

  "Well then, nothing has been stirring," said Pearson.--"Yetperadventure"--

  "Peradventure not me," said Cromwell, "or thou wilt tempt me to knockthy teeth out. I ever distrust a man when he speaks after anotherfashion from his own."

  "Zounds! let me speak to an end," answered Pearson, "and I will speak inwhat language your Excellency will."

  "Thy zounds, friend," said Oliver, "showeth little of grace, but much ofsincerity. Go to then--thou knowest I love and trust thee. Hast thoukept close watch? It behoves us to know that, before giving the alarm."

  "On my soul," said Pearson, "I have watched as closely as a cat at amouse-hole. It is beyond possibility that any thing could have eludedour vigilance, or even stirred within the house, without our being awareof it."

  "'Tis well," said Cromwell; "thy services shall not be forgotten,Pearson. Thou canst not preach and pray, but thou canst obey thineorders, Gilbert Pearson, and that may make amends."

  "I thank your Excellency," replied Pearson; "but I beg leave to chime inwith the humours of the times. A poor fellow hath no right to holdhimself singular."

  He paused, expecting Cromwell's orders what next was to be done, and,indeed, not a little surprised that the General's active and promptspirit had suffered him during a moment so critical to cast away athought upon a circumstance so trivial as his officer's peculiar mode ofexpressing himself. He wondered still more, when, by a brighter gleam ofmoonshine than he had yet enjoyed, he observed that Cromwell wasstanding motionless, his hands supported upon his sword, which he hadtaken out of the belt, and his stern brows bent on the ground. He waitedfor some time impatiently, yet afraid to interfere, lest he shouldawaken this unw
onted fit of ill-timed melancholy into anger andimpatience. He listened to the muttering sounds which escaped from thehalf-opening lips of his principal, in which the words, "hardnecessity," which occurred more than once, were all of which the sensecould be distinguished. "My Lord-General," at length he said, "timeflies."

  "Peace, busy fiend, and urge me not!" said Cromwell. "Think'st thou,like other fools, that I have made a paction with the devil for success,and am bound to do my work within an appointed hour, lest the spellshould lose its force?"

  "I only think, my Lord-General," said Pearson, "that Fortune has putinto your coffer what you have long desired to make prize of, and thatyou hesitate."

  Cromwell sighed deeply as he answered, "Ah, Pearson, in this troubledworld, a man, who is called like me to work great things in Israel, hadneed to be, as the poets feign, a thing made of hardened metal,immovable to feelings of human charities, impassible, resistless.Pearson, the world will hereafter, perchance, think of me as being sucha one as I have described, 'an iron man, and made of iron mould.'--Yetthey will wrong my memory--my heart is flesh, and my blood is mild asthat of others. When I was a sportsman, I have wept for the gallantheron that was struck down, by my hawk, and sorrowed for the hare whichlay screaming under the jaws of my greyhound; and canst thou think it alight thing to me, that, the blood of this lad's father lying in somemeasure upon my head, I should now put in peril that of the son? Theyare of the kindly race of English sovereigns, and, doubtless, are adoredlike to demigods by those of their own party. I am called Parricide,Blood-thirsty Usurper, already, for shedding the blood of one man, thatthe plague might be stayed--or as Achan was slain that Israel mightthereafter stand against the face of their enemies. Nevertheless, whohas spoke unto me graciously since that high deed? Those who acted inthe matter with me are willing that I should be the scape-goat of theatonement--those who looked on and helped not, bear themselves now as ifthey had been borne down by violence; and while I looked that theyshould shout applause on me, because of the victory of Worcester,whereof the Lord had made me the poor instrument, they look aside tosay, 'Ha! ha! the King-killer, the Parricide--soon shall his place bemade desolate.'--Truly it is a great thing, Gilbert Pearson, to belifted above the multitude; but when one feeleth that his exaltation israther hailed with hate and scorn than with love and reverence--insooth, it is still a hard matter for a mild, tender-conscienced, infirmspirit to bear--and God be my witness, that, rather than do this newdeed, I would shed my own best heart's-blood in a pitched field, twentyagainst one." Here he fell into a flood of tears, which he sometimes waswont to do. This extremity of emotion was of a singular character. Itwas not actually the result of penitence, and far less that of absolutehypocrisy, but arose merely from the temperature of that remarkable man,whose deep policy, and ardent enthusiasm, were intermingled with astrain of hypochondriacal passion, which often led him to exhibit scenesof this sort, though seldom, as now, when he was called to the executionof great undertakings.

  Pearson, well acquainted as he was with the peculiarities of hisGeneral, was baffled and confounded by this fit of hesitation andcontrition, by which his enterprising spirit appeared to be so suddenlyparalysed. After a moment's silence, he said, with some dryness ofmanner, "If this be the case, it is a pity your Excellency came hither.Corporal Humgudgeon and I, the greatest saint and greatest sinner inyour army, had done the deed, and divided the guilt and the honourbetwixt us."

  "Ha!" said Cromwell, as if touched to the quick, "wouldst thou take theprey from the lion?"

  "If the lion behaves like a village cur," said Pearson boldly, "who nowbarks and seems as if he would tear all to pieces, and now flies from araised stick or a stone, I know not why I should fear him. If Lamberthad been here, there had been less speaking and more action."

  "Lambert! What of Lambert?" said Cromwell, very sharply.

  "Only," said Pearson, "that I long since hesitated whether I shouldfollow your Excellency or him--and I begin to be uncertain whether Ihave made the best choice, that's all."

  "Lambert!" exclaimed Cromwell impatiently, yet softening his voice lesthe should be overheard descanting on the character of his rival,--"Whatis Lambert?--a tulip-fancying fellow, whom nature intended for a Dutchgardener at Delft or Rotterdam. Ungrateful as thou art, what couldLambert have done for thee?"

  "He would not," answered Pearson, "have stood here hesitating before alocked door, when fortune presented the means of securing, by one blow,his own fortune, and that of all who followed him."

  "Thou art right, Gilbert Pearson," said Cromwell, grasping his officer'shand, and strongly pressing it. "Be the half of this bold accompt thine,whether the reckoning be on earth or heaven."

  "Be the whole of it mine hereafter," said Pearson hardily, "so yourExcellency have the advantage of it upon earth. Step back to the reartill I force the door--there may be danger, if despair induce them tomake a desperate sally."

  "And if they do sally, is there one of my Ironsides who fears fire orsteel less than myself?" said the General. "Let ten of the mostdetermined men follow us, two with halberts, two with petronels, theothers with pistols--Let all their arms be loaded, and fire withouthesitation, if there is any attempt to resist or to sally forth--LetCorporal Humgudgeon be with them, and do thou remain here, and watchagainst escape, as thou wouldst watch for thy salvation."

  The General then struck at the door with the hilt of his sword--at firstwith a single blow or two, then with a reverberation of strokes thatmade the ancient building ring again. This noisy summons was repeatedonce or twice without producing the least effect.

  "What can this mean?" said Cromwell; "they cannot surely have fled, andleft the house empty."

  "No," replied Pearson, "I will ensure you against that; but yourExcellency strikes so fiercely, you allow no time for an answer. Hark! Ihear the baying of a hound, and the voice of a man who is quietinghim--Shall we break in at once, or hold parley?"

  "I will speak to them first," said Cromwell.--"Hollo! who is withinthere?"

  "Who is it enquires?" answered Sir Henry Lee from the interior; "or whatwant you here at this dead hour?"

  "We come by warrant of the Commonwealth of England," said the General.

  "I must see your warrant ere I undo either bolt or latch," replied theknight; "we are enough of us to make good the castle: neither I nor myfellows will deliver it up but upon good quarter and conditions; and wewill not treat for these save in fair daylight."

  "Since you will not yield to our right, you must try our might," repliedCromwell. "Look to yourselves within; the door will be in the midst ofyou in five minutes."

  "Look to yourselves without," replied the stout-hearted Sir Henry; "wewill pour our shot upon you, if you attempt the least violence."

  But, alas! while he assumed this bold language, his whole garrisonconsisted of two poor terrified women; for his son, in conformity withthe plan which they had fixed upon, had withdrawn from the hall into thesecret recesses of the palace.

  "What can they be doing now, sir?" said Phoebe, hearing a noise as itwere of a carpenter turning screw-nails, mixed with a low buzz of mentalking.

  "They are fixing a petard," said the knight, with great composure. "Ihave noted thee for a clever wench, Phoebe, and I will explain it tothee: 'Tis a metal pot, shaped much like one of the roguish knaves' ownsugarloaf hats, supposing it had narrower brims--it is charged with somefew pounds of fine gunpowder. Then"--

  "Gracious! we shall be all blown up!" exclaimed Phoebe,--the wordgunpowder being the only one which she understood in the knight'sdescription.

  "Not a bit, foolish girl. Pack old Dame Jellicot into the embrasure ofyonder window," said the knight, "on that side of the door, and we willensconce ourselves on this, and we shall have time to finish myexplanation, for they have bungling engineers. We had a clever Frenchfellow at Newark would have done the job in the firing of a pistol."

  They had scarce got into the place of security when the knight proceededwith his description.--"The petard being f
ormed, as I tell you, issecured with a thick and strong piece of plank, termed the madrier, andthe whole being suspended, or rather secured against the gate to beforced--But thou mindest me not?"

  "How can I, Sir Henry," she said, "within reach of such a thing as youspeak of?--O Lord! I shall go mad with very terror--we shall becrushed--blown up--in a few minutes!"

  "We are secure from the explosion," replied the knight, gravely, "whichwill operate chiefly in a forward direction into the middle of thechamber; and from any fragments that may fly laterally, we aresufficiently guarded by this deep embrasure."

  "But they will slay us when they enter," said Phoebe.

  "They will give thee fair quarter, wench," said Sir Henry; "and if I donot bestow a brace of balls on that rogue engineer, it is because Iwould not incur the penalty inflicted by martial law, which condemns tothe edge of the sword all persons who attempt to defend an untenablepost. Not that I think the rigour of the law could reach Dame Jellicotor thyself, Phoebe, considering that you carry no arms. If Alice hadbeen here she might indeed have done somewhat, for she can use abirding-piece."

  Phoebe might have appealed to her own deeds of that day, as more alliedto feats of melee and battle, than any which her young lady ever acted;but she was in an agony of inexpressible terror, expecting, from theknight's account of the petard, some dreadful catastrophe, of whatnature she did not justly understand, notwithstanding his liberalcommunication on the subject.

  "They are strangely awkward at it," said Sir Henry; "little Boutirlinwould have blown the house up before now.--Ah! he is a fellow would takethe earth like a rabbit--if he had been here, never may I stir but hewould have countermined them ere now, and

  --''Tis sport to have the engineer Hoist with his own petard.'

  as our immortal Shakspeare has it."

  "Oh, Lord, the poor mad old gentleman," thought Phoebe--"Oh, sir, hadyou not better leave alone playbooks, and think of your end?" utteredshe aloud, in sheer terror and vexation of spirit.

  "If I had not made up my mind to that many days since," answered theknight, "I had not now met this hour with a free bosom--

  'As gentle and as jocund as to rest, Go I to death--truth hath a quiet breast.'"

  As he spoke, a broad glare of light flashed from without, through thewindows of the hall, and betwixt the strong iron stanchions with whichthey were secured--a broad discoloured light it was, which shed a redand dusky illumination on the old armour and weapons, as if it had beenthe reflection of a conflagration. Phoebe screamed aloud, and, forgetfulof reverence in the moment of passion, clung close to the knight's cloakand arm, while Dame Jellicot, from her solitary niche, having the use ofher eyes, though bereft of her hearing, yelled like an owl when the moonbreaks out suddenly.

  "Take care, good Phoebe," said the knight; "you will prevent my using myweapon if you hang upon me thus.--The bungling fools cannot fix theirpetard without the use of torches! Now let me take the advantage of thisinterval.--Remember what I told thee, and how to put off time."

  "Oh, Lord--ay, sir," said Phoebe, "I will say any thing, Oh, Lord, thatit were but over!--Ah! ah!"--(two prolonged screams)--"I hear somethinghissing like a serpent."

  "It is the fusee, as we martialists call it," replied the knight; "thatis, Phoebe, the match which fires the petard, and which is longer orshorter, according to the distance."

  Here the knight's discourse was cut short by a dreadful explosion,which, as he had foretold, shattered the door, strong as it was, topieces, and brought down the glass clattering from the windows with allthe painted heroes and heroines, who had been recorded on that fragileplace of memory for centuries. The women shrieked incessantly, and wereanswered by the bellowing of Bevis, though shut up at a distance fromthe scene of action. The knight, shaking Phoebe from him withdifficulty, advanced into the hall to meet those who rushed in, withtorches lighted and weapons prepared.

  "Death to all who resist--life to those who surrender!" exclaimedCromwell, stamping with his foot. "Who commands this garrison?"

  "Sir Henry Lee of Ditchley," answered the old knight, stepping forward;"who, having no other garrison than two weak women, is compelled tosubmit to what he would willingly have resisted."

  "Disarm the inveterate and malignant rebel," cried Oliver. "Art thou notashamed, sir, to detain me before the door of a house which you had noforce to defend? Wearest thou so white a beard, and knowest thou not,that to refuse surrendering an indefensible post, by the martial law,deserves hanging?"

  "My beard and I," said Sir Henry, "have settled that matter between us,and agree right cordially. It is better to run the risk of being hanged,like honest men, than to give up our trust like cowards and traitors."

  "Ha! say'st thou?" said Cromwell; "thou hast powerful motives, I doubtnot, for running thy head into a noose. But I will speak with thee byand by.--Ho! Pearson, Gilbert Pearson, take this scroll--Take the elderwoman with thee--Let her guide you to the various places thereinmentioned--Search every room therein set down, and arrest, or slay uponthe slightest resistance, whomsoever you find there. Then note thoseplaces marked as commanding points for cutting off intercourse throughthe mansion--the landing-places of the great staircase, the greatgallery, and so forth. Use the woman civilly. The plan annexed to thescroll will point out the posts, even if she prove stupid or refractory.Meanwhile, the corporal, with a party, will bring the old man and thegirl there to some apartment--the parlour, I think, called Victor Lee's,will do as well as another.--We will then be out of this stifling smellof gunpowder."

  So saying, and without requiring any farther assistance or guidance, hewalked towards the apartment he had named. Sir Henry had his ownfeelings, when he saw the unhesitating decision with which the Generalled the way, and which seemed to intimate a more complete acquaintancewith the various localities of Woodstock than was consistent with hisown present design, to engage the Commonwealth party in a fruitlesssearch through the intricacies of the Lodge.

  "I will now ask thee a few questions, old man," said the General, whenthey had arrived in the room; "and I warn thee, that hope of pardon forthy many and persevering efforts against the Commonwealth, can be nootherwise merited than by the most direct answers to the questions I amabout to ask."

  Sir Henry bowed. He would have spoken, but he felt his temper risinghigh, and became afraid it might be exhausted before the part he hadsettled to play, in order to afford the King time for his escape, shouldbe brought to an end.

  "What household have you had here, Sir Henry Lee, within these fewdays--what guests--what visitors? We know that your means ofhouse-keeping are not so profuse as usual, so the catalogue cannot beburdensome to your memory."

  "Far from it," replied the knight, with unusual command of temper, "mydaughter, and latterly my son, have been my guests; and I have had thesefemales, and one Joceline Joliffe, to attend upon us."

  "I do not ask after the regular members of your household, but afterthose who have been within your gates, either as guests, or as malignantfugitives taking shelter."

  "There may have been more of both kinds, sir, than I, if it please yourvalour, am able to answer for," replied the knight. "I remember mykinsman Everard was here one morning--Also, I bethink me, a follower ofhis, called Wildrake."

  "Did you not also receive a young cavalier, called Louis Garnegey?" saidCromwell.

  "I remember no such name, were I to hang for it," said the knight."Kerneguy, or some such word," said the General; "we will not quarrelfor a sound."

  "A Scotch lad, called Louis Kerneguy, was a guest of mine," said SirHenry, "and left me this morning for Dorsetshire."

  "So late!" exclaimed Cromwell, stamping with his foot--"How fatecontrives to baffle us, even when she seems most favourable!--Whatdirection did he take, old man?" continued Cromwell--"what horse did heride--who went with him?"

  "My son went with him," replied the knight; "he brought him here as theson of a Scottish lord.--I pray you, sir, to be finished with thesequestions; for although I owe thee, as W
ill Shakspeare says,

  Respect for thy great place, and let the devil Be sometimes honoured for his burning throne,--

  yet I feel my patience wearing thin."

  Cromwell here whispered to the corporal, who in turn uttered orders totwo soldiers, who left the room. "Place the knight aside; we will nowexamine the servant damsel," said the General.--"Dost them know," saidhe to Phoebe, "of the presence of one Louis Kerneguy, calling himself aScotch page, who came here a few days since?"

  "Surely, sir," she replied, "I cannot easily forget him; and I warrantno well-looking wench that comes into his way will be like to forget himeither."

  "Aha," said Cromwell, "sayst thou so? truly I believe the woman willprove the truer witness.--When did he leave this house?"

  "Nay, I know nothing of his movements, not I," said Phoebe; "I am onlyglad to keep out of his way. But if he have actually gone hence, I amsure he was here some two hours since, for he crossed me in the lowerpassage, between the hall and the kitchen."

  "How did you know it was he?" demanded Cromwell.

  "By a rude enough token," said Phoebe.--"La, sir, you do ask suchquestions!" she added, hanging down her head.

  Humgudgeon here interfered, taking upon himself the freedom of aco-adjutor. "Verily," he said, "if what the damsel is called to speakupon hath aught unseemly, I crave your Excellency's permission towithdraw, not desiring that my nightly meditations may be disturbed withtales of such a nature."

  "Nay, your honour," said Phoebe, "I scorn the old man's words, in theway of seemliness or unseemliness either. Master Louis did but snatch akiss, that is the truth of it, if it must be told."

  Here Humgudgeon groaned deeply, while his Excellency avoided laughingwith some difficulty. "Thou hast given excellent tokens, Phoebe," hesaid; "and if they be true, as I think they seem to be, thou shalt notlack thy reward.--And here comes our spy from the stables."

  "There are not the least signs," said the trooper, "that horses havebeen in the stables for a month--there is no litter in the stalls, nohay in the racks, the corn-bins are empty, and the mangers are full ofcobwebs."

  "Ay, ay," said the old knight, "I have seen when I kept twenty goodhorses in these stalls, with many a groom and stable-boy to attendthem."

  "In the meanwhile," said Cromwell, "their present state tells little forthe truth of your own story, that there were horses to-day, on whichthis Kerneguy and your son fled from justice."

  "I did not say that the horses were kept there," said the knight. "Ihave horses and stables elsewhere."

  "Fie, fie, for shame, for shame!" said the General; "can a white-beardedman, I ask it once more, be a false witness?"

  "Faith, sir," said Sir Henry Lee, "it is a thriving trade, and I wondernot that you who live on it are so severe in prosecuting interlopers.But it is the times, and those who rule the times, that make grey-beardsdeceivers."

  "Thou art facetious friend, as well as daring in thy malignity," saidCromwell; "but credit me, I will cry quittance with you ere I am done.Whereunto lead these doors?"

  "To bedrooms," answered the knight.

  "Bedrooms! only to bedrooms?" said the Republican General, in a voicewhich indicated such was the internal occupation of his thoughts, thathe had not fully understood the answer.

  "Lord, sir," said the knight, "why should you make it so strange? I saythese doors lead to bedrooms--to places where honest men sleep, androgues lie awake."

  "You are running up a farther account, Sir Henry," said the General;"but we will balance it once and for all."

  During the whole of the scene, Cromwell, whatever might be the internaluncertainty of his mind, maintained the most strict temperance inlanguage and manner, just as if he had no farther interest in what waspassing, than as a military man employed in discharging the dutyenjoined him by his superiors. But the restraint upon his passionwas but

  "The torrent's smoothness ere it dash below."

  [Footnote: But mortal pleasure, what art thou in truth? The torrent's smoothness ere it dash, below. CAMPBELL'S _Gertrude of Wyoming_.]

  The course of his resolution was hurried on even more forcibly, becauseno violence of expression attended or announced its current. He threwhimself into a chair, with a countenance that indicated no indecision ofmind, but a determination which awaited only the signal for action.Meanwhile the knight, as if resolved in nothing to forego the privilegesof his rank and place, sat himself down in turn, and putting on his hat,which lay on a table, regarded the General with a calm look of fearlessindifference. The soldiers stood around, some holding the torches, whichilluminated the apartment with a lurid and sombre glare of light, theothers resting upon their weapons. Phoebe, with her hands folded, hereyes turned upwards till the pupils were scarce visible, and every shadeof colour banished from her ruddy cheek, stood like one in immediateapprehension of the sentence of death being pronounced, and instantexecution commanded.

  Heavy steps were at last heard, and Pearson and some of the soldiersreturned. This seemed to be what Cromwell waited for. He started up, andasked hastily, "Any news, Pearson? any prisoners--any malignants slainin thy defence?"

  "None, so please your Excellency," said the officer.

  "And are thy sentinels all carefully placed, as Tomkins' scroll gavedirection, and with fitting orders?"

  "With the most deliberate care," said Pearson.

  "Art thou very sure," said Cromwell, pulling him a little to one side,"that this is all well and duly cared for? Bethink thee, that when weengage ourselves in the private communications, all will be lost shouldthe party we look for have the means of dodging us by an escape into themore open rooms, and from thence perhaps into the forest."

  "My Lord-General," answered Pearson, "if placing the guards on theplaces pointed out in this scroll be sufficient, with the strictestorders to stop, and, if necessary, to stab or shoot, whoever crossestheir post, such orders are given to men who will not fail to executethem. If more is necessary, your Excellency has only to speak."

  "No--no--no, Pearson," said the General, "thou hast done well.--Thisnight over, and let it end but as we hope, thy reward shall not bewanting.--And now to business.--Sir Henry Lee, undo me the secret springof yonder picture of your ancestor. Nay, spare yourself the trouble andguilt of falsehood or equivocation, and, I say, undo me that springpresently."

  "When I acknowledge you for my master, and wear your livery, I may obeyyour commands," answered the knight; "even then I would need first tounderstand them."

  "Wench," said Cromwell, addressing Phoebe, "go thou undo the spring--youcould do it fast enough when you aided at the gambols of the demons ofWoodstock, and terrified even Mark Everard, who, I judged, had moresense."

  "Oh Lord, sir, what shall I do?" said Phoebe, looking to the knight;"they know all about it. What shall I do?"

  "For thy life, hold out to the last, wench! Every minute is worth amillion."

  "Ha! heard you that, Pearson?" said Cromwell to the officer; then,stamping with his foot, he added, "Undo the spring, or I will else uselevers and wrenching-irons--Or, ha! another petard were well bestowed--Call the engineer."

  "O Lord, sir," cried Phoebe, "I shall never live another peter--I willopen the spring."

  "Do as thou wilt," said Sir Henry; "it shall profit them but little."

  Whether from real agitation, or from a desire to gain time, Phoebe wassome minutes ere she could get the spring to open; it was indeed securedwith art, and the machinery on which it acted was concealed in the frameof the portrait. The whole, when fastened, appeared quite motionless,and betrayed, as when examined by Colonel Everard, no external mark ofits being possible to remove it. It was now withdrawn, however, andshowed a narrow recess, with steps which ascended on one side into thethickness of the wall. Cromwell was now like a greyhound slipped fromthe leash with the prey in full view.--"Up," he cried, "Pearson, thouart swifter than I--Up thou next, corporal." With more agility thancould have been expected from his person or years, which were past themeridian
of life, and exclaiming, "Before, those with the torches!" hefollowed the party, like an eager huntsman in the rear of his hounds, toencourage at once and direct them, as they penetrated into the labyrinthdescribed by Dr. Rochecliffe in the "Wonders of Woodstock."

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FOURTH.

  The King, therefore, for his defence Against the furious Queen, At Woodstock builded such a bower, As never yet was seen. Most curiously that bower was built, Of stone and timber strong; An hundred and fifty doors Did to this bower belong; And they so cunningly contrived, With turnings round about, That none but with a clew of thread Could enter in or out. BALLAD OF FAIR ROSAMOND.

  The tradition of the country, as well as some historical evidence,confirmed the opinion that there existed, within the old Royal Lodge atWoodstock, a labyrinth, or connected series of subterranean passages,built chiefly by Henry II., for the security of his mistress, RosamondClifford, from the jealousy of his Queen, the celebrated Eleanor. Dr.Rochecliffe, indeed, in one of those fits of contradiction with whichantiquaries are sometimes seized, was bold enough to dispute the allegedpurpose of the perplexed maze of rooms and passages, with which thewalls of the ancient palace were perforated; but the fact wasundeniable, that in raising the fabric some Norman architect had exertedthe utmost of the complicated art, which they have often shownelsewhere, in creating secret passages, and chambers of retreat andconcealment. There were stairs, which were ascended merely, as itseemed, for the purpose of descending again--passages, which, afterturning and winding for a considerable way, returned to the place wherethey set out--there were trapdoors and hatchways, panels andportcullises. Although Oliver was assisted by a sort of ground-plan,made out and transmitted by Joseph Tomkins, whose former employment inDr. Rochecliffe's service had made him fully acquainted with the place,it was found imperfect; and, moreover, the most serious obstacles totheir progress occurred in the shape of strong doors, party-walls, andiron-grates--so that the party blundered on in the dark, uncertainwhether they were not going farther from, rather than approaching, theextremity of the labyrinth. They were obliged to send for mechanics,with sledge-hammers and other instruments, to force one or two of thosedoors, which resisted all other means of undoing them. Labouring alongin these dusky passages, where, from time to time, they were like to bechoked by the dust which their acts of violence excited, the soldierswere obliged to be relieved oftener than once, and the bulky CorporalGrace-be-here himself puffed and blew like a grampus that has got intoshoal water. Cromwell alone continued, with unabated zeal, to push onhis researches--to encourage the soldiers, by the exhortations whichthey best understood, against fainting for lack of faith--and to secure,by sentinels at proper places, possession of the ground which they hadalready explored. His acute and observing eye detected, with a sneeringsmile, the cordage and machinery by which the bed of poor Desborough hadbeen inverted, and several remains of the various disguises, as well asprivate modes of access, by which Desborough, Bletson, and Harrison, hadbeen previously imposed upon. He pointed them out to Pearson, with nofarther comment than was implied in the exclamation, "The simple fools!"

  But his assistants began to lose heart and be discouraged, and requiredall his spirit to raise theirs. He then called their attention to voiceswhich they seemed to hear before them, and urged these as evidence thatthey were moving on the track of some enemy of the Commonwealth, who,for the execution of his malignant plots, had retreated into theseextraordinary fastnesses.

  The spirits of the men became at last downcast, notwithstanding all thisencouragement. They spoke to each other in whispers, of the devils ofWoodstock, who might be all the while decoying them forward to a roomsaid to exist in the Palace, where the floor, revolving on an axis,precipitated those who entered into a bottomless abyss. Humgudgeonhinted, that he had consulted the Scripture that morning by way of lot,and his fortune had been to alight on the passage, "Eutychus fell downfrom the third loft." The energy and authority of Cromwell, however, andthe refreshment of some food and strong waters, reconciled them topursuing their task.

  Nevertheless, with all their unwearied exertions, morning dawned on thesearch before they had reached Dr. Rochecliffe's sitting apartment, intowhich, after all, they obtained entrance by a mode much more difficultthan that which the Doctor himself employed. But here their ingenuitywas long at fault. From the miscellaneous articles that were strewedaround, and the preparations made for food and lodging, it seemed theyhad gained the very citadel of the labyrinth; but though variouspassages opened from it, they all terminated in places with which theywere already acquainted, or communicated with the other parts of thehouse, where their own sentinels assured them none had passed. Cromwellremained long in deep uncertainty. Meantime he directed Pearson to takecharge of the ciphers, and more important papers which lay on the table."Though there is little there," he said, "that I have not already known,by means of Trusty Tomkins--Honest Joseph--for an artful andthorough-paced agent, the like of thee is not left in England."

  After a considerable pause, during which he sounded with the pommel ofhis sword almost every stone in the building, and every plank on thefloor, the General gave orders to bring the old knight and Dr.Rochecliffe to the spot, trusting that he might work out of them someexplanation of the secrets of this apartment.

  "So please your Excellency, to let me deal with him," said Pearson, whowas a true soldier of fortune, and had been a buccaneer in the WestIndies, "I think that, by a whipcord twitched tight round theirforehead, and twisted about with a pistol-but, I could make either thetruth start from their lips, or the eyes from their head."

  "Out upon thee, Pearson!" said Cromwell, with abhorrence; "we have nowarrant for such cruelty, neither as Englishmen nor Christians. We mayslay malignants as we crush noxious animals, but to torture them is adeadly sin; for it is written, 'He made them to be pitied of those whocarried them captive.' Nay, I recall the order even for theirexamination, trusting that wisdom will be granted us without it, todiscover their most secret devices."

  There was a pause accordingly, during which an idea seized uponCromwell's imagination--"Bring me hither," he said, "yonder stool;" andplacing it beneath one of the windows, of which there were two so highin the wall as not to be accessible from the floor, he clambered up intothe entrance of the window, which was six or seven feet deep,corresponding with the thickness of the wall. "Come up hither, Pearson,"said the General; "but ere thou comest, double the guard at the foot ofthe turret called Love's Ladder, and bid them bring up the otherpetard--So now, come thou hither."

  The inferior officer, however brave in the field, was one of those whoma great height strikes with giddiness and sickness. He shrunk back fromthe view of the precipice, on the verge of which Cromwell was standingwith complete indifference, till the General, catching the hand of hisfollower, pulled him forward as far as he would advance. "I think," saidthe General, "I have found the clew, but by this light it is no easyone! See you, we stand in the portal near the top of Rosamond's Tower;and yon turret, which rises opposite to our feet, is that which iscalled Love's Ladder, from which the drawbridge reached that admittedthe profligate Norman tyrant to the bower of his mistress."

  "True, my lord, but the drawbridge is gone," said Pearson.

  "Ay, Pearson," replied the General; "but an active man might spring fromthe spot we stand upon to the battlements of yonder turret."

  "I do not think so, my lord," said Pearson.

  "What?" said Cromwell; "not if the avenger of blood were behind you,with his slaughter-weapon in his hand?"

  "The fear of instant death might do much," answered Pearson; "but when Ilook at that sheer depth on either side, and at the empty chasm betweenus and yonder turret, which is, I warrant you, twelve feet distant, Iconfess the truth, nothing short of the most imminent danger shouldinduce me to try. Pah--the thought makes my head grow giddy!--I trembleto see your Highness stand there, balancing yourself as if you meditateda spring in
to the empty air. I repeat, I would scarce stand so near theverge as does your Highness, for the rescue of my life."

  "Ah, base and degenerate spirit!" said the General; "soul of mud andclay, wouldst thou not do it, and much more, for the possession ofempire!--that is, peradventure," continued he, changing his tone as onewho has said too much, "shouldst thou be called on to do this, thatthereby becoming a great man in the tribes of Israel, thou mightestredeem the captivity of Jerusalem--ay, and it may be, work some greatwork for the afflicted people of this land?"

  "Your Highness may feel such calls," said the officer; "but they are notfor poor Gilbert Pearson, your faithful follower. You made a jest of meyesterday, when I tried to speak your language; and I am no more able tofulfil your designs than to use your mode of speech."

  "But, Pearson," said Cromwell, "thou hast thrice, yea, four times,called me your Highness."

  "Did I, my lord? I was not sensible of it. I crave your pardon," saidthe officer.

  "Nay," said Oliver, "there was no offence. I do indeed stand high, and Imay perchance stand higher--though, alas, it were fitter for a simplesoul like me to return to my plough and my husbandry. Nevertheless, Iwill not wrestle against the Supreme will, should I be called on to doyet more in that worthy cause. For surely he who hath been to ourBritish Israel as a shield of help, and a sword of excellency, makingher enemies be found liars unto her, will not give over the flock tothose foolish shepherds of Westminster, who shear the sheep and feedthem not, and who are in very deed hirelings, not shepherds."

  "I trust to see your lordship quoit them all down stairs," answeredPearson. "But may I ask why we pursue this discourse even now, until wehave secured the common enemy?"

  "I will tarry no jot of time," said the General; "fence thecommunication of Love's Ladder, as it is called, below, as I take it foralmost certain, that the party whom we have driven from fastness tofastness during the night, has at length sprung to the top of yonderbattlements from the place where we now stand. Finding the turret isguarded below, the place he has chosen for his security will prove arat-trap, from whence there is no returning."

  "There is a cask of gunpowder in this cabinet," said Pearson; "were itnot better, my lord, to mine the tower, if he will not render himself,and send the whole turret with its contents one hundred feet in theair?"

  "Ah, silly man," said Cromwell, striking him familiarly on the shoulder;"if thou hadst done this without telling me, it had been good service.But we will first summon the turret, and then think whether the petardwill serve our turn--it is but mining at last.--Blow a summons there,down below."

  The trumpets rang at his bidding, till the old walls echoed from everyrecess and vaulted archway. Cromwell, as if he cared not to look uponthe person whom he expected to appear, drew back, like a necromancerafraid of the spectre which he has evoked.

  "He has come to the battlement," said Pearson to his General.

  "In what dress or appearance?" answered Cromwell, from within thechamber.

  "A grey riding-suit, passmented with silver, russet walking-boots, a cutband, a grey hat and plume, black hair."

  "It is he, it is he!" said Cromwell; "and another crowning mercy isvouchsafed!"

  Meantime, Pearson and young Lee exchanged defiance from their respectiveposts.

  "Surrender," said the former, "or we blow you up in your fastness."

  "I am come of too high a race to surrender to rebels," said Albert,assuming the air with which, in such a condition, a king might havespoken. "I bear you to witness," cried Cromwell, exultingly, "he hathrefused quarter. Of a surety, his blood be on his head.--One of youbring down the barrel of powder. As he loves to soar high, we will addwhat can be taken from the soldiers' bandoliers.--Come with me, Pearson;thou understandest this gear.--Corporal Grace-be-here, stand thou faston the platform of the window where Captain Pearson and I stood but evennow, and bend the point of thy partisan against any who shall attempt topass. Thou art as strong as a bull; and I will back thee against despairitself."

  "But," said the corporal, mounting reluctantly, "the place is as thepinnacle of the Temple; and it is written, that Eutychus fell down fromthe third loft and was taken up dead."

  "Because he slept upon his post," answered Cromwell readily. "Bewarethou of carelessness, and thus thy feet shall be kept from stumbling.--You four soldiers, remain here to support the corporal, if it benecessary; and you, as well as the corporal, will draw into the vaultedpassage the minute the trumpets sound a retreat. It is as strong as acasemate, and you may lie there safe from the effects of the mine. Thou,Zerubbabel Robins, I know wilt be their lance-prisade." [Footnote:"Lance-prisade," or "lance-brisade," a private appointed to a smallcommand--a sort of temporary corporal.]

  Robins bowed, and the General departed to join those who were without.

  As he reached the door of the hall, the petard was heard to explode, andhe saw that it had succeeded; for the soldiers rushed, brandishing theirswords and pistols, in at the postern of the turret, whose gate had beensuccessfully forced. A thrill of exultation, but not unmingled withhorror shot across the veins of the ambitious soldier.

  "Now--now!" he cried; "they are dealing with him!"

  His expectations were deceived. Pearson and the others returneddisappointed, and reported they had been stopt by a strong trap-door ofgrated iron, extended over the narrow stair; and they could see therewas an obstacle of the same kind some ten feet higher. To remove it byforce, while a desperate and well armed man had the advantage of thesteps above them, might cost many lives. "Which, lack-a-day," said theGeneral, "it is our duty to be tender of. What dost thou advise, GilbertPearson?"

  "We must use powder, my lord," answered Pearson, who saw his master wastoo modest to reserve to himself the whole merit of the proceeding--"There may be a chamber easily and conveniently formed under the foot ofthe stair. We have a sausage, by good luck, to form the train--and so"--

  "Ah!" said Cromwell, "I know thou canst manage such gear well--But,Gilbert, I go to visit the posts, and give them orders to retire to asafe distance when the retreat is sounded. You will allow them fiveminutes for this purpose."

  "Three is enough for any knave of them all," said Pearson. "They will belame indeed, that require more on such a service.--I ask but one, thoughI fire the train myself."

  "Take heed," said Cromwell, "that the poor soul be listened to, if heasks quarter. It may be, he may repent him of his hard-heartedness andcall for mercy."

  "And mercy he shall have," answered Pearson, "provided he calls loudenough to make me hear him; for the explosion of that damned petard hasmade me as deaf as the devil's dam."

  "Hush, Gilbert, hush!" said Cromwell; "you offend in your language."

  "Zooks, sir, I must speak either in your way, or in my own," saidPearson, "unless I am to be dumb as well as deaf!--Away with you, mylord, to visit the posts; and you will presently hear me make some noisein the world."

  Cromwell smiled gently at his aide-de-camp's petulance, patted him onthe shoulder, and called him a mad fellow, walked a little way, thenturned back to whisper, "What thou dost, do quickly;" then returnedagain towards the outer circle of guards, turning his head from time totime, as if to assure himself that the corporal, to whom he hadintrusted the duty, still kept guard with his advanced weapon upon theterrific chasm between Rosamond's Tower and the corresponding turret.Seeing him standing on his post, the General muttered between hismustaches, "The fellow hath the strength and courage of a bear; andyonder is a post where one shall do more to keep back than an hundred inmaking way." He cast a last look on the gigantic figure, who stood inthat airy position, like some Gothic statue, the weapon half levelledagainst the opposite turret, with the but rested against his right foot,his steel cap and burnished corslet glittering in the rising sun.

  Cromwell then passed on to give the necessary orders, that suchsentinels as might be endangered at their present posts by the effect ofthe mine, should withdraw at the sound of the trumpet to the placeswhich he pointed out to th
em. Never, on any occasion of his life, did hedisplay more calmness and presence of mind. He was kind, nay, facetious,with the soldiers, who adored him; and yet he resembled the volcanobefore the eruption commences--all peaceful and quiet without, while anhundred contradictory passions were raging in his bosom.

  Corporal Humgudgeon, meanwhile, remained steady upon his post; yet,though as determined a soldier as ever fought among the redoubtedregiment of Ironsides, and possessed of no small share of that exaltedfanaticism which lent so keen an edge to the natural courage of thosestern religionists, the veteran felt his present situation to be highlyuncomfortable. Within a pike's length of him arose a turret, which wasabout to be dispersed in massive fragments through the air; and he feltsmall confidence in the length of time which might be allowed for hisescape from such a dangerous vicinity. The duty of constant vigilanceupon his post, was partly divided by this natural feeling, which inducedhim from time to time to bend his eyes on the miners below, instead ofkeeping them riveted on the opposite turret.

  At length the interest of the scene arose to the uttermost. Afterentering and returning from the turret, and coming out again more thanonce, in the course of about twenty minutes Pearson issued, as it mightbe supposed, for the last time, carrying in his hand, and uncoiling, ashe went along, the sausage, or linen bag, (so called from itsappearance,) which, strongly sewed together, and crammed with gunpowder,was to serve as a train betwixt the mine to be sprung, and the pointoccupied by the engineer who was to give fire. He was in the act offinally adjusting it, when the attention of the corporal on the towerbecame irresistibly and exclusively riveted upon the preparations forthe explosion. But while he watched the aide-de-camp drawing his pistolto give fire, and the trumpeter handling his instrument as waiting theorder to sound the retreat, fate rushed on the unhappy sentinel in a wayhe least expected.

  Young, active, bold, and completely possessed of his presence of mind,Albert Lee, who had been from the loopholes a watchful observer of everymeasure which had been taken by his besiegers, had resolved to make onedesperate effort for self-preservation. While the head of the sentinelon the opposite platform was turned from him, and bent rather downwards,he suddenly sprung across the chasm, though the space on which helighted was scarce wide enough for two persons, threw the surprisedsoldier from his precarious stand, and jumped himself down into thechamber. The gigantic trooper went sheer down twenty feet, struckagainst a projecting battlement, which launched the wretched manoutwards, and then fell on the earth with such tremendous force, thatthe head, which first touched the ground, dinted a hole in the soil ofsix inches in depth, and was crushed like an eggshell. Scarce knowingwhat had happened, yet startled and confounded at the descent of thisheavy body, which fell at no great distance from him, Pearson snapt hispistol at the train, no previous warning given; the powder caught, andthe mine exploded. Had it been strongly charged with powder, many ofthose without might have suffered; but the explosion was only powerfulenough to blow out, in a lateral direction, a part of the wall justabove the foundation, sufficient, however, to destroy the equipoise ofthe building. Then, amid a cloud of smoke, which began gradually toencircle the turret like a shroud, arising slowly from its base to itssummit, it was seen to stagger and shake by all who had courage to looksteadily at a sight so dreadful. Slowly, at first, the building inclinedoutwards, then rushed precipitately to its base, and fell to the groundin huge fragments, the strength of its resistance showing the excellenceof the mason-work. The engineer, so soon as he had fired the train, fledin such alarm that he wellnigh ran against his General, who wasadvancing towards him, while a huge stone from the summit of thebuilding, flying farther than the rest, lighted within a yard of them.

  "Thou hast been over hasty, Pearson," said Cromwell, with the greatestcomposure possible--"hath no one fallen in that same tower of Siloe?"

  "Some one fell," said Pearson, still in great agitation, "and yonderlies his body half-buried in the rubbish."

  With a quick and resolute step Cromwell approached the spot, andexclaimed, "Pearson, thou hast ruined me--the young Man hathescaped.--This is our own sentinel--plague on the idiot! Let him rotbeneath the ruins which crushed him!"

  A cry now resounded from the platform of Rosamond's Tower, whichappeared yet taller than formerly, deprived of the neighbouring turret,which emulated though it did not attain to its height,--"A prisoner,noble General--a prisoner--the fox whom we have chased all night is nowin the snare--the Lord hath delivered him into the hand of hisservants."

  "Look you keep him in safe custody," exclaimed Cromwell, "and bring himpresently down to the apartment from which the secret passages havetheir principal entrance."

  "Your Excellency shall be obeyed."

  The proceedings of Albert Lee, to which these exclamations related, hadbeen unfortunate. He had dashed from the platform, as we have related,the gigantic strength of the soldier opposed to him, and had instantlyjumped down into Rochecliffe's chamber. But the soldiers stationed therethrew themselves upon him, and after a struggle, which was hopelesslymaintained against such advantage of numbers, had thrown the youngcavalier to the ground, two of them, drawn down by his strenuousexertions, falling across him. At the same moment a sharp and severereport was heard, which, like a clap of thunder in the immediatevicinity, shook all around them, till the strong and solid towertottered like the masts of a stately vessel when about to part by theboard. In a few seconds, this was followed by another sullen sound, atfirst low, and deep, but augmenting like the roar of a cataract, as itdescends, reeling, bellowing, and rushing, as if to astound both heavenand earth. So awful, indeed, was the sound of the neighbour tower as itfell, that both the captive, and those who struggled with him, continuedfor a minute or two passive in each other's grasp.

  Albert was the first who recovered consciousness and activity. He shookoff those who lay above him, and made a desperate effort to gain hisfeet, in which he partly succeeded. But as he had to deal with menaccustomed to every species of danger, and whose energies were recoverednearly as soon as his own, he was completely secured, and his arms helddown. Loyal and faithful to his trust, and resolved to sustain to thelast the character which he had assumed, he exclaimed, as his struggleswere finally overpowered, "Rebel villains! would you slay your king?"

  "Ha, heard you that?" cried one of the soldiers to the lance-prisade,who commanded the party. "Shall I not strike this son of a wicked fatherunder the fifth rib, even as the tyrant of Moab was smitten by Ehud witha dagger of a cubit's length?"

  But Robins answered, "Be it far from us, Merciful Strickalthrow, to slayin cold blood the captive of our bow and of our spear. Me thinks, sincethe storm of Tredagh [Footnote: Tredagh, or Drogheda, was taken byCromwell in 1649, by storm, and the governor and the whole garrison putto the sword.] we have shed enough of blood--therefore, on your lives dohim no evil; but take from him his arms, and let us bring him before thechosen Instrument, even our General, that he may do with him what ismeet in his eyes."

  By this time the soldier, whose exultation had made him the first tocommunicate the intelligence from the battlements to Cromwell, returned,and brought commands corresponding to the orders of their temporaryofficer; and Albert Lee, disarmed and bound, was conducted as a captiveinto the apartment which derived its name from the victories of hisancestor, and placed in the presence of General Cromwell.

  Running over in his mind the time which had elapsed since the departureCharles till the siege, if it may be termed so, had terminated in hisown capture, Albert had every reason to hope that his Royal Master musthave had time to accomplish his escape. Yet he determined to maintain tothe last a deceit which might for a time insure the King's safety. Thedifference betwixt them could not, he thought, be instantly discovered,begrimed as he was with dust and smoke, and with blood issuing from somescratches received in the scuffle.

  In this evil plight, but bearing himself with such dignity as wasadapted to the princely character, Albert was ushered into the apartmentof Victor Lee, where, in hi
s father's own chair, reclined the triumphantenemy of the cause to which the house of Lee had been hereditarilyfaithful.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FIFTH.

  A barren title hast thou bought too dear, Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king? HENRY IV. PART I.

  Oliver Cromwell arose from his seat as the two veteran soldiers,Zerubbabel Robins and Merciful Strickalthrow, introduced into theapartment the prisoner, whom they held by the arms, and fixed his sternhazel eye on Albert long before he could give vent to the ideas whichwere swelling in his bosom. Exultation was the most predominant.

  "Art not thou," he at length said, "that Egyptian which, before thesedays, madest an uproar, and leddest out into the wilderness manythousand men, who were murderers!--Ha, youth, I have hunted thee fromStirling to Worcester, from Worcester to Woodstock, and we have met atlast!"

  "I would," replied Albert, speaking in the character which he hadassumed, "that we had met where I could have shown thee the differencebetwixt a rightful King and an ambitious Usurper!"

  "Go to, young man," said Cromwell; "say rather the difference between ajudge raised up for the redemption of England, and the son of thoseKings whom the Lord in his anger permitted to reign over her. But wewill not waste useless words. God knows that it is not of our will thatwe are called to such high matters, being as humble in our thoughts aswe are of ourselves; and in our unassisted nature frail and foolish; andunable to render a reason but for the better spirit within us, which isnot of us.--Thou art weary, young man, and thy nature requires rest andrefection, being doubtless dealt with delicately, as one who hath fed onthe fat, and drunk of the sweet, and who hath been clothed in purple andfine linen."

  Here the General suddenly stopt, and then abruptly exclaimed--"But isthis--Ay! whom have we here? These are not the locks of the swarthy ladCharles Stewart?--A cheat! a cheat!"

  Albert hastily cast his eyes on a mirror which stood in the room, andperceived that a dark peruke, found among Dr. Rochecliffe'smiscellaneous wardrobe, had been disordered in the scuffle with thesoldiery, and that his own light-brown hair was escaping from beneathit.

  "Who is this?" said Cromwell, stamping with fury--"Pluck the disguisefrom him."

  The soldiers did so; and bringing him at the same time towards thelight, the deception could not be maintained for a moment longer withany possibility of success. Cromwell came up to him with his teeth set,and grinding against each other as he spoke, his hands clenched, andtrembling with emotion, and speaking with a voice low-pitched, bitterlyand deeply emphatic, such as might have preceded a stab with his dagger."Thy name, young man?"

  He was answered calmly and firmly, while the countenance of the speakerwore a cast of triumph, and even contempt.

  "Albert Lee of Ditchley, a faithful subject of King Charles."

  "I might have guessed it," said Cromwell.--"Ay, and to King Charlesshalt thou go as soon as it is noon on the dial.--Pearson," hecontinued, "let him be carried to the others; and let them be executedat twelve exactly."

  "All, sir?" said Pearson, surprised; for Cromwell, though he at timesmade formidable examples, was, in general, by no means sanguinary.

  "_All_"--repeated Cromwell, fixing his eye on young Lee. "Yes, youngsir, your conduct has devoted to death thy father, thy kinsman, and thestranger that was in thine household. Such wreck hast thou brought onthy father's house."

  "My father, too--my aged father!" said Albert, looking upward, andendeavouring to raise his hands in the same direction, which wasprevented by his bonds. "The Lord's will be done!"

  "All this havoc can be saved, if," said the General, "thou wilt answerone question--Where is the young Charles Stewart, who was called King ofScotland?"

  "Under Heaven's protection, and safe from thy power," was the firm andunhesitating answer of the young royalist.

  "Away with him to prison!" said Cromwell; "and from thence to executionwith the rest of them, as malignants taken in the fact. Let acourtmartial sit on them presently."

  "One word," said young Lee, as they led him from the room. "Stop, stop,"said Cromwell, with the agitation of renewed hope--"let him be heard."

  "You love texts of Scripture," said Albert--"Let this be the subject ofyour next homily--'Had Zimri peace, who slew his master?'"

  "Away with him," said the General; "let him die the death.--I have saidit."

  As Cromwell spoke these words, his aide-de-camp observed that he becameunwontedly pale.

  "Your Excellency is overtoiled in the public service," said Pearson; "acourse of the stag in the evening will refresh you. The old knight hatha noble hound here, if we can but get him to hunt without his master,which may be hard, as he is faithful, and"--

  "Hang him up!" said Cromwell.

  "What--whom--hang the noble dog? Your Excellency was wont to love a goodhound?"

  "It matters not," said Cromwell; "let him be killed. Is it not written,that they slew in the valley of Achor, not only the accursed Achan, withhis sons and his daughters, but also his oxen and asses, and his sheep,and every live thing belonging unto him? And even thus shall we do tothe malignant family of Lee, who have aided Sisera in his flight, whenIsrael might have been delivered of his trouble for ever. But send outcouriers and patrols--Follow, pursue, watch in every direction--Let myhorse be ready at the door in five minutes, or bring me the first thoucanst find."

  It seemed to Pearson that this was something wildly spoken, and that thecold perspiration was standing upon the General's brow as he said it. Hetherefore again pressed the necessity of repose, and it would appearthat nature seconded strongly the representation. Cromwell arose, andmade a step or two towards the door of the apartment; but stopped,staggered, and, after a pause, sate down in a chair. "Truly, friendPearson," he said, "this weary carcass of ours is an impediment to us,even in our most necessary business, and I am fitter to sleep than towatch, which is not my wont. Place guards, therefore, till we reposeourselves for an hour or two. Send out in every direction, and spare notfor horses' flesh. Wake me if the court-martial require instruction, andforget not to see the sentence punctually executed on the Lees, andthose who were arrested with them."

  As Cromwell spoke thus, he arose and half-opened a bedroom door, whenPearson again craved pardon for asking if he had rightly understood hisExcellency, that all the prisoners were to be executed.

  "Have I not said it?" answered Cromwell, displeasedly. "Is it becausethou art a man of blood, and hast ever been, that thou dost affect thesescruples to show thyself tenderhearted at my expense? I tell thee, thatif there lack one in the full tale of execution, thine own life shallpay the forfeit."

  So saying, he entered the apartment, followed by the groom of hischamber, who attended upon Pearson's summons.

  When his General had retired, Pearson remained in great perplexity whathe ought to do; and that from no scruples of conscience, but fromuncertainty whether he might not err either in postponing, or in toohastily and too literally executing, the instructions he had received.

  In the meantime, Strickalthrow and Robins had returned, after lodgingAlbert in prison, to the room where Pearson was still musing on hisGeneral's commands. Both these men were adjutators in their army, andold soldiers, whom Cromwell was accustomed to treat with greatfamiliarity; so that Robins had no hesitation to ask Captain Pearson,"Whether he meant to execute the commands of the General, even to theletter?"

  Pearson shook his head with an air of doubt, but added, "There was nochoice left."

  "Be assured," said the old man, "that if thou dost this folly, thou wiltcause Israel to sin, and that the General will not be pleased with yourservice. Thou knowest, and none better than thou, that Oliver, althoughhe be like unto David the son of Jesse, in faith, and wisdom, andcourage, yet there are times when the evil spirit cometh upon him as itdid upon Saul, and he uttereth commands which he will not thank any onefor executing."

  Pearson was too good a politician to assent directly to a propositionwh
ich he could not deny--he only shook his head once more, and said thatit was easy for those to talk who were not responsible, but thesoldier's duty was to obey his orders, and not to judge of them.

  "Very righteous truth," said Merciful Strickalthrow, a grim oldScotchman; "I marvel where our brother Zerubbabel caught up thissoftness of heart?"

  "Why, I do but wish," said Zerubbabel, "that four or five humancreatures may draw the breath of God's air for a few hours more; therecan be small harm done by delaying the execution,--and the General willhave some time for reflection."

  "Ay," said Captain Pearson, "but I in my service must be more pointedlyobsequious, than thou in thy plainness art bound to be, friendZerubbabel."

  "Then shall the coarse frieze cassock of the private soldier help thegolden gaberdine of the captain to bear out the blast," said Zerubbabel."Ay, indeed, I can show you warrant why we be aidful to each other indoing acts of kindness and long-suffering, seeing the best of us arepoor sinful creatures, who might suffer, being called to a briefaccounting."

  "Of a verity you surprise me, brother Zerubbabel," said Strickalthrow;"that thou, being an old and experienced soldier, whose head hath growngrey in battle, shouldst give such advice to a young officer. Is not theGeneral's commission to take away the wicked from the land, and to rootout the Amalekite, and the Jebusite, and the Perizzite, and the Hittite,and the Girgashite, and the Amorite? and are not these men justly to becompared to the five kings, who took shelter in the cave of Makedah, whowere delivered into the hands of Joshua the son of Nun? and he causedhis captains and his soldiers to come near and tread on their necks--andthen he smote them, and he slew them, and then he hanged them on fivetrees, even till evening--And thou, Gilbert Pearson by name, be notwithheld from the duty which is appointed to thee, but do even as hasbeen commanded by him who is raised up to judge and to deliver Israel;for it is written, 'cursed is he who holdeth back his sword from theslaughter.'"

  Thus wrangled the two military theologians, while Pearson, much moresolicitous to anticipate the wishes of Oliver than to know the will ofHeaven, listened to them with great indecision and perplexity.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SIXTH.

  But let us now, like soldiers on the watch, Put the soul's armour on, alike prepared For all a soldier's warfare brings. JOANNA BAILLIE.

  The reader will recollect, that when Rochecliffe and Joceline were madeprisoners, the party which escorted them had two other captives in theirtrain, Colonel Everard, namely, and the Rev. Nehemiah Holdenough. WhenCromwell had obtained entrance into Woodstock, and commenced his searchafter the fugitive Prince, the prisoners were placed in what had been anold guardroom, and which was by its strength well calculated to servefor a prison, and a guard was placed over them by Pearson. No light wasallowed, save that of a glimmering fire of charcoal. The prisonersremained separated from each other, Colonel Everard conversing withNehemiah Holdenough, at a distance from Dr. Rochecliffe, Sir Henry Lee,and Joceline. The party was soon after augmented by Wildrake, who wasbrought down to the Lodge, and thrust in with so little ceremony, that,his arms being bound, he had very nearly fallen on his nose in themiddle of the prison.

  "I thank you, my good friend," he said, looking back to the door, whichthey who had pushed him in were securing--"_Point de ceremonie_--noapology for tumbling, so we light in good company.--Save ye, save ye,gentlemen all--What, _a la mort_, and nothing stirring to keep thespirits up, and make a night on't?--the last we shall have, I take it;for a make [Footnote: A half-penny] to a million, but we trine to thenubbing cheat [Footnote: Hang on the gallows] to-morrow.--Patron--noblepatron, how goes it? This was but a scurvy trick of Noll so far as youwere concerned: as for me, why I might have deserved something of thekind at his hand."

  "Prithee, Wildrake, sit down," said Everard; "thou art drunk--disturb usnot."

  "Drunk? I drunk?" cried Wildrake, "I have been splicing the mainbrace,as Jack says at Wapping--have been tasting Noll's brandy in a bumper tothe King's health, and another to his Excellency's confusion, andanother to the d--n of Parliament--and it may be one or two more, butall to devilish good toasts. But I'm not drunk."

  "Prithee, friend, be not profane," said Nehemiah Holdenough.

  "What, my little Presbyterian Parson, my slender Mass-John? thou shaltsay amen to this world instantly"--said Wildrake; "I have had a wearytime in't for one.--Ha, noble Sir Henry, I kiss your hand--I tell thee,knight, the point of my Toledo was near Cromwell's heart last night, asever a button on the breast of his doublet. Rat him, he wears secretarmour.--He a soldier! Had it not been for a cursed steel shirt, I wouldhave spitted him like a lark.--Ha, Doctor Rochecliffe!--thou knowest Ican wield my weapon."

  "Yes," replied the Doctor, "and you know I can use mine."

  "I prithee be quiet, Master Wildrake," said Sir Henry.

  "Nay, good knight," answered Wildrake, "be somewhat more cordial with acomrade in distress. This is a different scene from the Brentfordstorming-party. The jade Fortune has been a very step-mother to me. Iwill sing you a song I made on my own ill-luck."

  "At this moment, Captain Wildrake, we are not in a fitting mood forsinging," said Sir Henry, civilly and gravely.

  "Nay, it will aid your devotions--Egad, it sounds like a penitentialpsalm.

  'When I was a young lad, My fortune was bad, If ere I do well 'tis a wonder. I spent all my means Amid sharpers and queans; Then I got a commission to plunder. I have stockings 'tis true, But the devil a shoe, I am forced to wear boots in all weather, Be d----d the hoot sole, Curse on the spur-roll. Confounded be the upper-leather.'"

  [Footnote: Such a song, or something very like it, may be found inRamsay's Tea-table Miscellany, among the wild slips of minstrelsy whichare there collected.]

  The door opened as Wildrake finished this stanza at the top of hisvoice, and in rushed a sentinel, who, greeting him by the title of a"blasphemous bellowing bull of Bashan," bestowed a severe blow, with hisramrod, on the shoulders of the songster, whose bonds permitted him nomeans of returning the compliment.

  "Your humble servant again, sir," said Wildrake, shrugging hisshoulders,--"sorry I have no means of showing my gratitude. I am boundover to keep the peace, like Captain Bobadil--Ha, knight, did you hearmy bones clatter? that blow came twankingly off--the fellow mightinflict the bastinado, were it in presence of the Grand Seignior--he hasno taste for music, knight--is no way moved by the 'concord of sweetsounds.' I will warrant him fit for treason, stratagem, and spoil--Eh?--all down in the mouth--well--I'll go to sleep to-night on a bench,as I've done many a night, and I will be ready to be hanged decently inthe morning, which never happened to me before in all my life--

  When I was a young lad, My fortune was bad--'

  Pshaw! This is not the tune it goes to." Here he fell fast asleep, andsooner or later all his companions in misfortune followed his example.

  The benches intended for the repose of the soldiers of the guard,afforded the prisoners convenience enough to lie down, though theirslumbers, it may be believed, were neither sound nor undisturbed. Butwhen daylight was but a little while broken, the explosion of gunpowderwhich took place, and the subsequent fall of the turret to which themine was applied, would have awakened the Seven Sleepers, or Morpheushimself. The smoke, penetrating through the windows, left them at noloss for the cause of the din.

  "There went my gunpowder," said Rochecliffe, "which has, I trust, blownup as many rebel villains as it might have been the means of destroyingotherwise in a fair field. It must have caught fire by chance."

  "By chance?--No," said Sir Henry; "depend on it, my bold Albert hasfired the train, and that in yonder blast Cromwell was flying towardsthe heaven whose battlements he will never reach--Ah, my brave boy! andperhaps thou art thyself sacrificed, like a youthful Samson among therebellious Philistines.--But I will not be long behind thee, Albert."

  Everard hastened to the door, hoping to obtain from t
he guard, to whomhis name and rank might be known, some explanation of the noise, whichseemed to announce some dreadful catastrophe.

  But Nehemiah Holdenough, whose rest had been broken by the trumpet whichgave signal for the explosion, appeared in the very acme of horror--"Itis the trumpet of the Archangel!" he cried,--"it is the crushing of thisworld of elements--it is the summons to the Judgment-seat! The dead areobeying the call--they are with us--they are amongst us--they arise intheir bodily frames--they come to summon us!"

  As he spoke his eyes were riveted upon Dr. Rochecliffe, who stooddirectly opposite to him. In rising hastily, the cap which he commonlywore, according to a custom then usual both among clergymen and gownmenof a civil profession, had escaped from his head, and carried with itthe large silk patch which he probably wore for the purpose of disguise;for the cheek which was disclosed was unscarred, and the eye as good asthat which was usually uncovered.

  Colonel Everard returning from the door, endeavoured in vain to makeMaster Holdenough comprehend what he learned from the guard without,that the explosion had involved only the death of one of Cromwell'ssoldiers. The Presbyterian divine continued to stare wildly at him ofthe Episcopal persuasion.

  But Dr. Rochecliffe heard and understood the news brought by ColonelEverard, and, relieved from the instant anxiety which had kept himstationary, he advanced towards the retiring Calvinist, extending hishand in the most friendly manner.

  "Avoid thee--Avoid thee!" said Holdenough, "the living may not joinhands with the dead."

  "But I," said Rochecliffe, "am as much alive as you are."

  "Thou alive!--thou! Joseph Albany, whom my own eyes saw precipitatedfrom the battlements of Clidesthrow Castle?"

  "Ay," answered the Doctor, "but you did not see me swim ashore on amarsh covered with sedges--_fugit ad salices_--after a manner which Iwill explain to you another time."

  Holdenough touched his hand with doubt and uncertainty. "Thou art indeedwarm and alive," he said, "and yet after so many blows, and a fall sotremendous--thou canst not be _my_ Joseph Albany."

  "I am Joseph Albany Rochecliffe," said the Doctor, "become so in virtueof my mother's little estate, which fines and confiscations have made anend of."

  "And is it so indeed?" said Holdenough, "and have I recovered mine oldchum?"

  "Even so," replied Rochecliffe, "by the same token I appeared to you inthe Mirror Chamber--Thou wert so bold, Nehemiah, that our whole schemewould have been shipwrecked, had I not appeared to thee in the shape ofa departed friend. Yet, believe me, it went against my heart to do it."

  "Ah, fie on thee, fie on thee," said Holdenough, throwing himself intohis arms, and clasping him to his bosom, "thou wert ever a naughty wag.How couldst thou play me such a trick?--Ah, Albany, dost thou rememberDr. Purefoy and Caius College?"

  "Marry, do I," said the Doctor, thrusting his arm through thePresbyterian divine's, and guiding him to a seat apart from the otherprisoners, who witnessed this scene with much surprise. "Remember CaiusCollege?" said Rochecliffe; "ay, and the good ale we drank, and ourparties to mother Huffcap's."

  "Vanity of vanities," said Holdenough, smiling kindly at the same time,and still holding his recovered friend's arm enclosed and hand-locked inhis.

  "But the breaking the Principal's orchard, so cleanly done," said theDoctor; "it was the first plot I ever framed, and much work I had toprevail on thee to go into it."

  "Oh, name not that iniquity," said Nehemiah, "since I may well say, asthe pious Master Baxter, that these boyish offences have had theirpunishment in later years, inasmuch as that inordinate appetite forfruit hath produced stomachic affections under which I yet labour."

  "True, true, dear Nehemiah," said Rochecliffe, "but care not for them--adram of brandy will correct it all. Mr. Baxter was," he was about to say"an ass," but checked himself, and only filled up the sentence with "agood man, I dare say, but over scrupulous."

  So they sat down together the best of friends, and for half an hourtalked with mutual delight over old college stories. By degrees they goton the politics of the day; and though then they unclasped their hands,and there occurred between them such expressions as, "Nay, my dearbrother," and, "there I must needs differ," and, "on this point I craveleave to think;" yet a hue and cry against the Independents and othersectarists being started, they followed like brethren in full hollo, andit was hard to guess which was most forward. Unhappily, in the course ofthis amicable intercourse, something was mentioned about the bishopricof Titus, which at once involved them in the doctrinal question ofChurch Government. Then, alas! the floodgates were opened, and theyshowered on each other Greek and Hebrew texts, while their eyes kindled,their cheeks glowed, their hands became clenched, and they looked morelike fierce polemics about to rend each other's eyes out, than Christiandivines.

  Roger Wildrake, by making himself an auditor of the debate, contrived toaugment its violence. He took, of course, a most decided part in aquestion, the merits of which were totally unknown to him. Somewhatoverawed by Holdenough's ready oratory and learning, the cavalierwatched with a face of anxiety the countenance of Dr. Rochecliffe; butwhen he saw the proud eye and steady bearing of the Episcopal champion,and heard him answer Greek with Greek, and Hebrew with Hebrew, Wildrakebacked his arguments as he closed them, with a stout rap upon the bench,and an exulting laugh in the face of the antagonist. It was with somedifficulty that Sir Henry and Colonel Everard, having at length andreluctantly interfered, prevailed on the two alienated friends toadjourn their dispute, removing at the same time to a distance, andregarding each other with looks in which old friendship appeared to havetotally given way to mutual animosity.

  But while they sat lowering on each other, and longing to renew acontest in which each claimed the victory, Pearson entered the prison,and in a low and troubled voice, desired the persons whom it containedto prepare for instant death.

  Sir Henry Lee received the doom with the stern composure which he hadhitherto displayed. Colonel Everard attempted the interposition of astrong and resentful appeal to the Parliament, against the judgment ofthe court-martial and the General. But Pearson declined to receive ortransmit any such remonstrance, and with a dejected look and mien ofmelancholy presage, renewed his exhortation to them to prepare for thehour of noon, and withdrew from the prison.

  The operation of this intelligence on the two clerical disputants wasmore remarkable. They gazed for a moment on each other with eyes inwhich repentant kindness and a feeling of generous shame quenched everylingering feeling of resentment, and joined in the mutual exclamation--"My brother--my brother, I have sinned, I have sinned in offendingthee!" they rushed into each other's arms, shed tears as they demandedeach other's forgiveness, and, like two warriors, who sacrifice apersonal quarrel to discharge their duty against the common enemy, theyrecalled nobler ideas of their sacred character, and assuming the partwhich best became them on an occasion so melancholy, began to exhortthose around them to meet the doom that had been announced, with thefirmness and dignity which Christianity alone can give.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SEVENTH.

  Most gracious prince, good Cannyng cried, Leave vengeance to our God, And lay the iron rule aside, Be thine the olive rod. BALLAD OF SIR CHARLES BAWDIN.

  The hour appointed for execution had been long past, and it was aboutfive in the evening when the Protector summoned Pearson to his presence.He went with fear and reluctance, uncertain how he might be received.After remaining about a quarter of an hour, the aide-de-camp returned toVictor Lee's parlour, where he found the old soldier, Zerubbabel Robins,in attendance for his return.

  "How is Oliver?" said the old man, anxiously.

  "Why, well," answered Pearson, "and hath asked no questions of theexecution, but many concerning the reports we have been able to makeregarding the flight of the young Man, and is much moved at thinking hemust now be beyond pursuit. Also I gave him certain papers belonging tothe malignant Doctor Rochecliffe."


  "Then will I venture upon him," said the adjutator; "so give me a napkinthat I may look like a sewer, and fetch up the food which I directedshould be in readiness."

  Two troopers attended accordingly with a ration of beef, such as wasdistributed to the private soldiers, and dressed after their fashion--apewter pot of ale, a trencher with salt, black pepper, and a loaf ofammunition bread. "Come with me," he said to Pearson, "and fearnot--Noll loves an innocent jest." He boldly entered the General'ssleeping apartment, and said aloud, "Arise, thou that art called to be ajudge in Israel--let there be no more folding of the hands to sleep. Lo,I come as a sign to thee; wherefore arise, eat, drink, and let thy heartbe glad within thee; for thou shalt eat with joy the food of him thatlaboureth in the trenches, seeing that since thou wert commander overthe host, the poor sentinel hath had such provisions as I have nowplaced for thine own refreshment."

  "Truly, brother Zerubbabel," said Cromwell, accustomed to such acts ofenthusiasm among his followers, "we would wish that it were so; neitheris it our desire to sleep soft, nor feed more highly than the meanestthat ranks under our banners. Verily, thou hast chosen well for myrefreshment, and the smell of the food is savoury in my nostrils."

  He arose from the bed, on which he had lain down half dressed, andwrapping his cloak around him, sate down by the bedside, and partookheartily of the plain food which was prepared for him. While he waseating, Cromwell commanded Pearson to finish his report--"You need notdesist for the presence of a worthy soldier, whose spirit is as myspirit."

  "Nay, but," interrupted Robins, "you are to know that Gilbert Pearsonhath not fully executed thy commands, touching a part of thosemalignants, all of whom should have died at noon."

  "What execution--what malignants?" said Cromwell, laying down his knifeand fork.

  "Those in the prison here at Woodstock," answered Zerubbabel, "whom yourExcellency commanded should be executed at noon, as taken in the fact ofrebellion against the Commonwealth."

  "Wretch!" said Cromwell, starting up and addressing Pearson, "thou hastnot touched Mark Everard, in whom there was no guilt, for he wasdeceived by him who passed between us--neither hast thou put forth thyhand on the pragmatic Presbyterian minister, to have all those of theirclasses cry sacrilege, and alienate them from us for ever?"

  "If your Excellency wish them to live, they live--their life and deathare in the power of a word," said Pearson.

  "Enfranchise them; I must gain the Presbyterian interest over to us if Ican."

  "Rochecliffe, the arch-plotter," said Pearson, "I thought to haveexecuted, but"--

  "Barbarous man," said Cromwell, "alike ungrateful and impolitic--wouldstthou have destroyed our decoy-duck? This doctor is but like a well, ashallow one indeed, but something deeper than the springs whichdischarge their secret tribute into his keeping; then come I with apump, and suck it all up to the open air. Enlarge him, and let him havemoney if he wants it. I know his haunts; he can go nowhere but our eyewill be upon him.--But you look at each other darkly, as if you had moreto say than you durst. I trust you have not done to death Sir HenryLee?"

  "No. Yet the man," replied Pearson, "is a confirmed malignant, and"--

  "Ay, but he is also a noble relic of the ancient English Gentleman,"said the General. "I would I knew how to win the favour of that race.But we, Pearson, whose royal robes are the armour which we wear on ourbodies, and whose leading staves are our sceptres, are too newly set upto draw the respect of the proud malignants, who cannot brook to submitto less than royal lineage. Yet what can they see in the longest kinglyline in Europe, save that it runs back to a successful soldier? I grudgethat one man should be honoured and followed, because he is thedescendant of a victorious commander, while less honour and allegianceis paid to another, who, in personal qualities, and in success, mightemulate the founder of his rival's dynasty. Well, Sir Henry Lee lives,and shall live for me. His son, indeed, hath deserved the death which hehas doubtless sustained."

  "My lord," stammered Pearson, "since your Excellency has found I amright in suspending your order in so many instances, I trust you willnot blame me in this also--I thought it best to await more specialorders."

  "Thou art in a mighty merciful humour this morning, Pearson," saidCromwell, not entirely satisfied.

  "If your Excellency please, the halter is ready, and so is theprovost-marshal."

  "Nay, if such a bloody fellow as thou hast spared him, it would illbecome me to destroy him," said the General. "But then, here is amongRochecliffe's papers the engagement of twenty desperadoes to take usoff--some example ought to be made."

  "My lord," said Zerubbabel, "consider now how often this young man,Albert Lee, hath been near you, nay, probably, quite close to yourExcellency, in these dark passages which he knew, and we did not. Had hebeen of an assassin's nature, it would have cost him but a pistol-shot,and the light of Israel was extinguished. Nay, in the unavoidableconfusion which must have ensued, the sentinels quitting their posts, hemight have had a fair chance of escape."

  "Enough Zerubbabel; he lives," said the General. "He shall remain incustody for some time, however, and be then banished from England. Theother two are safe, of course; for you would not dream of consideringsuch paltry fellows as fit victims for my revenge."

  "One fellow, the under-keeper, called Joliffe, deserves death, however,"said Pearson, "since he has frankly admitted that he slew honest JosephTomkins."

  "He deserves a reward for saving us a labour," said Cromwell; "thatTomkins was a most double-hearted villain. I have found evidence amongthese papers here, that if we had lost the fight at Worcester, we shouldhave had reason to regret that we had ever trusted Master Tomkins--itwas only our success which anticipated his treachery--write us downdebtor, not creditor, to Joceline, an you call him so, and to hisquarter-staff."

  "There remains the sacrilegious and graceless cavalier who attemptedyour Excellency's life last night," said Pearson.

  "Nay," said the General, "that were stooping too low for revenge. Hissword had no more power than had he thrusted with a tobacco-pipe. Eaglesstoop not at mallards, or wild-drakes either."

  "Yet, sir," said Pearson, "the fellow should be punished as a libeller.The quantity of foul and pestilential abuse which we found in hispockets makes me loth he should go altogether free--Please to look atthem, sir."

  "A most vile hand," said Oliver, as he looked at a sheet or two of ourfriend Wildrake's poetical miscellanies--"The very handwriting seems tobe drunk, and the very poetry not sober--What have we here?

  'When I was a young lad, My fortune was bad-- If e'er I do well, 'tis a wonder'--

  Why, what trash is this?--and then again--

  'Now a plague on the poll Of old politic Noll! We will drink till we bring In triumph back the King.'

  In truth, if it could be done that way, this poet would be a stoutchampion. Give the poor knave five pieces, Pearson, and bid him go sellhis ballads. If he come within twenty miles of our person, though, wewill have him flogged till the blood runs down to his heels."

  "There remains only one sentenced person," said Pearson, "a noblewolf-hound, finer than any your Excellency saw in Ireland. He belongs tothe old knight Sir Henry Lee. Should your Excellency not desire to keepthe fine creature yourself, might I presume to beg that I might haveleave?"

  "No, Pearson," said Cromwell; "the old man, so faithful himself, shallnot be deprived of his faithful dog--I would _I_ had any creature, wereit but a dog, that followed me because it loved me, not for what itcould make of me."

  "Your Excellency is unjust to your faithful soldiers," said Zerubbabel,bluntly, "who follow you like dogs, fight for you like dogs, and havethe grave of a dog on the spot where they happen to fall."

  "How now, old grumbler," said the General, "what means this change ofnote?"

  "Corporal Humgudgeon's remains are left to moulder under the ruins ofyonder tower, and Tomkins is thrust into a hole in a thicket like abeast."

  "True, true," said Cromwell, "they shall be removed
to the churchyard,and every soldier shall attend with cockades of sea-green and blueribbon--Every one of the non-commissioned officers and adjutators shallhave a mourning-scarf; we ourselves will lead the procession, and thereshall be a proper dole of wine, burnt brandy, and rosemary. See that itis done, Pearson. After the funeral, Woodstock shall be dismantled anddestroyed, that its recesses may not again afford shelter to rebels andmalignants."

  The commands of the General were punctually obeyed, and when the otherprisoners were dismissed, Albert Lee remained for some time in custody.He went abroad after his liberation, entered in King Charles's Guards,where he was promoted by that monarch. But his fate, as we shall seehereafter, only allowed him a short though bright career.

  We return to the liberation of the other prisoners from Woodstock. Thetwo divines, completely reconciled to each other, retreated arm in armto the parsonage-house, formerly the residence of Dr. Rochecliffe, butwhich he now visited as the guest of his successor, Nehemiah Holdenough.The Presbyterian had no sooner installed his friend under his roof, thanhe urged upon him an offer to partake it, and the income annexed to it,as his own. Dr. Rochecliffe was much affected, but wisely rejected thegenerous offer, considering the difference of their tenets on Churchgovernment, which each entertained as religiously as his creed. Anotherdebate, though a light one, on the subject of the office of Bishops inthe Primitive Church, confirmed him in his resolution. They parted thenext day, and their friendship remained undisturbed by controversy tillMr. Holdenough's death, in 1658; a harmony which might be in some degreeowing to their never meeting again after their imprisonment. Dr.Rochecliffe was restored to his living after the Restoration, andascended from thence to high clerical preferment.

  The inferior personages of the grand jail-delivery at Woodstock Lodge,easily found themselves temporary accommodations in the town among oldacquaintance; but no one ventured to entertain the old knight,understood to be so much under the displeasure of the ruling powers; andeven the innkeeper of the George, who had been one of his tenants,scarce dared to admit him to the common privileges of a traveller, whohas food and lodging for his money. Everard attended him unrequested,unpermitted, but also unforbidden. The heart of the old man had beenturned once more towards him when he learned how he had behaved at thememorable rencontre at the King's Oak, and saw that he was an object ofthe enmity, rather than the favour, of Cromwell. But there was anothersecret feeling which tended to reconcile him to his nephew--theconsciousness that Everard shared with him the deep anxiety which heexperienced on account of his daughter, who had not yet returned fromher doubtful and perilous expedition. He felt that he himself wouldperhaps be unable to discover where Alice had taken refuge during thelate events, or to obtain her deliverance if she was taken into custody.He wished Everard to offer him his service in making a search for her,but shame prevented his preferring the request; and Everard, who couldnot suspect the altered state of his uncle's mind, was afraid to makethe proposal of assistance, or even to name the name of Alice.

  The sun had already set--they sat looking each other in the face insilence, when the trampling of horses was heard--there was knocking atthe door--there was a light step on the stair, and Alice, the subject oftheir anxiety, stood before them. She threw herself joyfully into herfather's arms, who glanced his eye needfully round the room, as he saidin a whisper, "Is all safe?"

  "Safe and out of danger, as I trust," replied Alice--"I have a token foryou."

  Her eye then rested on Everard--she blushed, was embarrassed, andsilent.

  "You need not fear your Presbyterian cousin," said the knight, with agood-humoured smile, "he has himself proved a confessor at least forloyalty, and ran the risk of being a martyr."

  She pulled from her bosom the royal rescript, written on a small andsoiled piece of paper, and tied round with a worsted thread instead of aseal. Such as it was, Sir Henry ere he opened it pressed the littlepacket with oriental veneration to his lips, to his heart, to hisforehead; and it was not before a tear had dropt on it that he foundcourage to open and read the billet. It was in these words:--

  "LOYAL OUR MUCH ESTEEMED FRIEND, AND OUR TRUSTY SUBJECT,

  "It having become known to us that a purpose of marriage has beenentertained betwixt Mrs. Alice Lee, your only daughter, and MarkhamEverard, Esq. of Eversly Chase, her kinsman, and by affiancy yournephew: And being assured that this match would be highly agreeable toyou, had it not been for certain respects to our service, which inducedyou to refuse your consent thereto--We do therefore acquaint you, that,far from our affairs suffering by such an alliance, we do exhort, and sofar as we may, require you to consent to the same, as you would wish todo us good pleasure, and greatly to advance our affairs. Leaving to you,nevertheless, as becometh a Christian King, the full exercise of yourown discretion concerning other obstacles to such an alliance, which mayexist, independent of those connected with our service. Witness ourhand, together with our thankful recollections of your good services toour late Royal Father as well as ourselves, C. R."

  Long and steadily did Sir Henry gaze on the letter, so that it mightalmost seem as if he were getting it by heart. He then placed itcarefully in his pocket-book, and asked Alice the account of heradventures the preceding night. They were briefly told. Their midnightwalk through the Chase had been speedily and safely accomplished. Norhad the King once made the slightest relapse into the naughty LouisKerneguy. When she had seen Charles and his attendant set off, she hadtaken some repose in the cottage where they parted. With the morningcame news that Woodstock was occupied by soldiers, so that returnthither might have led to danger, suspicion, and enquiry. Alice,therefore, did not attempt it, but went to a house in the neighbourhood,inhabited by a lady of established loyalty, whose husband had been majorof Sir Henry Lee's regiment, and had fallen at the battle of Naseby.Mrs. Aylmer was a sensible woman, and indeed the necessities of thesingular times had sharpened every one's faculties for stratagem andintrigue. She sent a faithful servant to scout about the mansion atWoodstock, who no sooner saw the prisoners dismissed and in safety, andascertained the knight's destination for the evening, than he carriedthe news to his mistress, and by her orders attended Alice on horsebackto join her father.

  There was seldom, perhaps, an evening meal made in such absolute silenceas by this embarrassed party, each occupied with their own thoughts, andat a loss how to fathom those of the others. At length the hour camewhen Alice felt herself at liberty to retire to repose after a day sofatiguing. Everard handed her to the door of her apartment, and was thenhimself about to take leave, when, to his surprise, his uncle asked himto return, pointed to a chair, and giving him the King's letter to read,fixed his looks on him steadily during the perusal; determined that ifhe could discover aught short of the utmost delight in the reading, thecommands of the King himself should be disobeyed, rather than Aliceshould be sacrificed to one who received not her hand as the greatestblessing earth had to bestow. But the features of Everard indicatedjoyful hope, even beyond what the father could have anticipated, yetmingled with surprise; and when he raised his eye to the knight's withtimidity and doubt, a smile was on Sir Henry's countenance as he brokesilence. "The King," he said, "had he no other subject in England,should dispose at will of those of the house of Lee. But methinks thefamily of Everard have not been so devoted of late to the crown as tocomply with a mandate, inviting its heir to marry the daughter of abeggar."

  "The daughter of Sir Henry Lee," said Everard, kneeling to his uncle,and perforce kissing his hand, "would grace the house of a duke."

  "The girl is well enough," said the knight proudly; "for myself, mypoverty shall neither shame nor encroach on my friends. Some few piecesI have by Doctor Rochecliffe's kindness, and Joceline and I will strikeout something."

  "Nay, my dear uncle, you are richer than you think for," said Everard."That part of your estate, which my father redeemed for payment of amoderate composition, is still your own, and held by trustees in yourname, myself being one of them. You are only our deb
tor for an advanceof monies, for which, if it will content you, we will count with youlike usurers. My father is incapable of profiting by making a bargain onhis own account for the estate of a distressed friend; and all this youwould have learned long since, but that you would not--I mean, time didnot serve for explanation--I mean"--

  "You mean I was too hot to hear reason, Mark, and I believe it is verytrue. But I think we understand each other _now_. To-morrow I go with myfamily to Kingston, where is an old house I may still call mine. Comehither at thy leisure, Mark,--or thy best speed, as thou wilt--but comewith thy father's consent."

  "With my father in person," said Everard, "if you will permit."

  "Be that," answered the knight, "as he and you will--I think Jocelinewill scarce shut the door in thy face, or Bevis growl as he did afterpoor Louis Kerneguy.--Nay, no more raptures, but good-night, Mark,good-night; and if thou art not tired with the fatigue ofyesterday--why, if you appear here at seven in the morning, I think wemust bear with your company on the Kingston road."

  Once more Everard pressed the knight's hand, caressed Bevis, whoreceived his kindness graciously, and went home to dreams of happiness,which were realized, as far as this motley world permits, within a fewmonths afterwards.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THE THIRTY-EIGHTH.

  My life was of a piece. Spent in your service--dying at your feet. DON SEBASTIAN.

  Years rush by us like the wind. We see not whence the eddy comes, norwhitherward it is tending, and we seem ourselves to witness their flightwithout a sense that we are changed; and yet Time is beguiling man ofhis strength, as the winds rob the woods of their foliage.

  After the marriage of Alice and Markham Everard, the old knight residednear them, in an ancient manor-house, belonging to the redeemed portionof his estate, where Joceline and Phoebe, now man and wife, with one ortwo domestics, regulated the affairs of his household. When he tired ofShakspeare and solitude, he was ever a welcome guest at hisson-in-law's, where he went the more frequently that Markham had givenup all concern in public affairs, disapproving of the forcible dismissalof the Parliament, and submitting to Cromwell's subsequent domination,rather as that which was the lesser evil, than as to a government whichhe regarded as legal. Cromwell seemed ever willing to show himself hisfriend; but Everard, resenting highly the proposal to deliver up theKing, which he considered as an insult to his honour, never answeredsuch advances, and became, on the contrary, of the opinion, which wasnow generally prevalent in the nation, that a settled government couldnot be obtained without the recall of the banished family. There is nodoubt that the personal kindness which he had received from Charles,rendered him the more readily disposed to such a measure. He wasperemptory, however, in declining all engagements during Oliver's life,whose power he considered as too firmly fixed to be shaken by any plotswhich could be formed against it.

  Meantime, Wildrake continued to be Everard's protected dependent asbefore, though sometimes the connexion tended not a little to hisinconvenience. That respectable person, indeed, while he remainedstationary in his patron's house, or that of the old knight, dischargedmany little duties in the family, and won Alice's heart by his attentionto the children, teaching the boys, of whom they had three, to ride,fence, toss the pike, and many similar exercises; and, above all,filling up a great blank in her father's existence, with whom he playedat chess and backgammon, or read Shakspeare, or was clerk to prayerswhen any sequestrated divine ventured to read the service of the Church.Or he found game for him while the old gentleman continued to goa-sporting; and, especially he talked over the storming of Brentford,and the battles of Edgehill, Banbury, Roundwaydown, and others, themeswhich the aged cavalier delighted in, but which he could not so wellenter upon with Colonel Everard, who had gained his laurels in theParliament service.

  The assistance which he received from Wildrake's society became morenecessary, after Sir Henry was deprived of his gallant and only son, whowas slain in the fatal battle of Dunkirk, where, unhappily, Englishcolours were displayed on both the contending sides, the French beingthen allied with Oliver, who sent to their aid a body of auxiliaries,and the troops of the banished King fighting in behalf of the Spaniards.Sir Henry received the melancholy news like an old man, that is, withmore external composure than could have been anticipated. He dwelt forweeks and months on the lines forwarded by the indefatigable Dr.Rochecliffe, superscribed in small letters, C. R., and subscribed LouisKerneguy, in which the writer conjured him to endure this inestimableloss with the greater firmness, that he had still left one son,(intimating himself,) who would always regard him as a father.

  But in spite of this balsam, sorrow, acting imperceptibly, and suckingthe blood like a vampire, seemed gradually drying up the springs oflife; and, without any formed illness, or outward complaint, the oldman's strength and vigour gradually abated, and the ministry of Wildrakeproved daily more indispensable.

  It was not, however, always to be had. The cavalier was one of thosehappy persons whom a strong constitution, an unreflecting mind, andexuberant spirits, enable to play through their whole lives the part ofa school-boy--happy for the moment, and careless of consequences.

  Once or twice every year, when he had collected a few pieces, theCavaliero Wildrake made a start to London, where, as he described it, hewent on the ramble, drank as much wine as he could come by, and led a_skeldering_ life, to use his own phrase, among roystering cavalierslike himself, till by some rash speech or wild action, he got into theMarshalsea, the Fleet, or some other prison, from which he was to bedelivered at the expense of interest, money, and sometimes a littlereputation.

  At length Cromwell died, his son resigned the government, and thevarious changes which followed induced Everard, as well as many others,to adopt more active measures in the King's behalf. Everard evenremitted considerable sums for his service, but with the utmost caution,and corresponding with no intermediate agent, but with the Chancellorhimself, to whom he communicated much useful information upon publicaffairs. With all his prudence he was very nearly engaged in theineffectual rising of Booth and Middleton in the west, and with greatdifficulty escaped from the fatal consequences of that ill-timedattempt. After this, although the estate of the kingdom was treblyunsettled, yet no card seemed to turn up favourable to the royal cause,until the movement of General Monk from Scotland. Even then, it was whenat the point of complete success, that the fortunes of Charles seemed ata lower ebb than ever, especially when intelligence had arrived at thelittle Court which he then kept in Brussels, that Monk, on arriving inLondon, had put himself under the orders of the Parliament.

  It was at this time, and in the evening, while the King, Buckingham,Wilmot, and some other gallants of his wandering Court, were engaged ina convivial party, that the Chancellor (Clarendon) suddenly cravedaudience, and, entering with less ceremony than he would have done atanother time, announced extraordinary news. For the messenger, he said,he could say nothing, saving that he appeared to have drunk much, andslept little; but that he had brought a sure token of credence from aman for whose faith he would venture his life. The King demanded to seethe messenger himself.

  A man entered, with something the manners of a gentleman, and more thoseof a rakebelly debauchee--his eyes swelled and inflamed--his gaitdisordered and stumbling, partly through lack of sleep, partly throughthe means he had taken to support his fatigue. He staggered withoutceremony to the head of the table, seized the King's hand, which hemumbled like a piece of gingerbread; while Charles, who began torecollect him from his mode of salutation, was not very much pleasedthat their meeting should have taken place before so many witnesses.

  "I bring good news," said the uncouth messenger, "glorious news!--theKing shall enjoy his own again!--My feet are beautiful on the mountains.Gad, I have lived with Presbyterians till I have caught their language--but we are all one man's children now--all your Majesty's poor babes.The Rump is all ruined in London--Bonfires flaming, music playing, rumpsroas
ting, healths drinking, London in a blaze of light from the Strandto Rotherhithe--tankards clattering"--

  "We can guess at that," said the Duke of Buckingham.

  "My old friend, Mark Everard, sent me off with the news; I'm a villainif I've slept since. Your Majesty recollects me, I am sure. Your Majestyremembers, sa--sa--at the King's Oak, at Woodstock?--

  'O, we'll dance, and sing, and play, For 'twill be a joyous day When the King shall enjoy his own again.'"

  "Master Wildrake, I remember you well," said the King. "I trust the goodnews is certain?"

  "Certain! your Majesty; did I not hear the bells?--did I not see thebonfires?--did I not drink your Majesty's health so often, that my legswould scarce carry me to the wharf? It is as certain as that I am poorRoger Wildrake of Squattlesea-mere, Lincoln."

  The Duke of Buckingham here whispered to the King, "I have alwayssuspected your Majesty kept odd company during the escape fromWorcester, but this seems a rare sample."

  "Why, pretty much like yourself, and other company I have kept here somany years--as stout a heart, as empty a head," said Charles--"as muchlace, though somewhat tarnished, as much brass on the brow, and nearlyas much copper in the pocket."

  "I would your Majesty would intrust this messenger of good news with me,to get the truth out of him," said Buckingham.

  "Thank your Grace," replied the King; "but he has a will as well asyourself, and such seldom agree. My Lord Chancellor hath wisdom, and tothat we must trust ourselves.--Master Wildrake, you will go with my LordChancellor, who will bring us a report of your tidings; meantime, Iassure you that you shall be no loser for being the first messenger ofgood news." So saying, he gave a signal to the Chancellor to take awayWildrake, whom he judged, in his present humour, to be not unlikely tocommunicate some former passages at Woodstock which might ratherentertain than edify the wits of his court.

  Corroboration of the joyful intelligence soon arrived, and Wildrake waspresented with a handsome gratuity and small pension, which, by theKing's special desire, had no duty whatever attached to it.

  Shortly afterwards, all England was engaged in chorusing his favouriteditty--

  "Oh, the twenty-ninth of May, It was a glorious day, When the King did enjoy his own again."

  On that memorable day, the King prepared to make his progress fromRochester to London, with a reception on the part of his subjects sounanimously cordial, as made him say gaily, it must have been his ownfault to stay so long away from a country where his arrival gave so muchjoy. On horseback, betwixt his brothers, the Dukes of York andGloucester, the Restored Monarch trode slowly over roads strewn withflowers--by conduits running wine, under triumphal arches, and throughstreets hung with tapestry. There were citizens in various bands, somearrayed in coats of black velvet, with gold chains; some in militarysuits of cloth of gold, or cloth of silver, followed by all thosecraftsmen who, having hooted the father from Whitehall, had now come toshout the son into possession of his ancestral place. On his progressthrough Blackheath, he passed that army which, so long formidable toEngland herself, as well as to Europe, had been the means of restoringthe Monarchy which their own hands had destroyed. As the King passed thelast files of this formidable host, he came to an open part of theheath, where many persons of quality, with others of inferior rank, hadstationed themselves to gratulate him as he passed towards the capital.

  There was one group, however, which attracted peculiar attention fromthose around, on account of the respect shown to the party by thesoldiers who kept the ground, and who, whether Cavaliers or Roundheads,seemed to contest emulously which should contribute most to theiraccommodation; for both the elder and younger gentlemen of the party hadbeen distinguished in the Civil War.

  It was a family group, of which the principal figure was an old manseated in a chair, having a complacent smile on his face, and a tearswelling to his eye, as he saw the banners wave on in interminablesuccession, and heard the multitude shouting the long silencedacclamation, "God save King Charles." His cheek was ashy pale, and hislong beard bleached like the thistle down; his blue eye was cloudless,yet it was obvious that its vision was failing. His motions were feeble,and he spoke little, except when he answered the prattle of hisgrandchildren, or asked a question of his daughter, who sate beside him,matured in matronly beauty, or of Colonel Everard who stood behind.There, too, the stout yeoman, Joceline Joliffe, still in his silvandress, leaned, like a second Benaiah, on the quarter-staff that had donethe King good service in its day, and his wife, a buxom matron as shehad been a pretty maiden, laughed at her own consequence; and ever andanon joined her shrill notes to the stentorian halloo which her husbandadded to the general acclamation.

  These fine boys and two pretty girls prattled around their grandfather,who made them such answers as suited their age, and repeatedly passedhis withered hand over the fair locks of the little darlings, whileAlice, assisted by Wildrake, (blazing in a splendid dress, and his eyeswashed with only a single cup of canary,) took off the children'sattention from time to time, lest they should weary their grandfather.We must not omit one other remarkable figure in the group--a giganticdog, which bore the signs of being at the extremity of canine life,being perhaps fifteen or sixteen years old. But though exhibiting theruin only of his former appearance, his eyes dim, his joints stiff, hishead slouched down, and his gallant carriage and graceful motionsexchanged for a stiff, rheumatic, hobbling gait, the noble hound hadlost none of his instinctive fondness for his master. To lie by SirHenry's feet in the summer or by the fire in winter, to raise his headto look on him, to lick his withered hand or his shrivelled cheek fromtime to time, seemed now all that Bevis lived for.

  Three or four livery servants attended to protect this group from thethronging multitude, but it needed not. The high respectability andunpretending simplicity of their appearance gave them, even in the eyesof the coarsest of the people, an air of patriarchal dignity, whichcommanded general regard; and they sat upon the bank which they hadchosen for their station by the way-side, as undisturbed as if they hadbeen in their own park.

  And now the distant clarions announced the Royal Presence. Onward camepursuivant and trumpet--onward came plumes and cloth of gold, and wavingstandards displayed, and swords gleaming to the sun; and at length,heading a group of the noblest in England, and supported by his royalbrothers on either side, onward came King Charles. He had already haltedmore than once, in kindness perhaps as well as policy, to exchange aword with persons whom he recognized among the spectators, and theshouts of the bystanders applauded a courtesy which seemed so welltimed. But when he had gazed an instant on the party we have described,it was impossible, if even Alice had been too much changed to berecognized, not instantly to know Bevis and his venerable master. TheMonarch sprung from his horse, and walked instantly up to the oldknight, amid thundering acclamations which rose from the multitudesaround, when they saw Charles with his own hand oppose the feebleattempts of the old man to rise to do his homage. Gently replacing himon his seat--"Bless," he said, "father--bless your son, who has returnedin safety, as you blessed him when he departed in danger."

  "May God bless--and preserve"--muttered the old man, overcome by hisfeelings; and the King, to give him a few moments' repose, turnedto Alice--

  "And you," he said, "my fair guide, how have you been employed since ourperilous night-walk? But I need not ask," glancing around--"in theservice of King and Kingdom, bringing up subjects, as loyal as theirancestors.--A fair lineage, by my faith, and a beautiful sight, to theeye of an English King!--Colonel Everard, we shall see you, I trust, atWhitehall?" Here he nodded to Wildrake. "And thou, Joceline, thou cansthold thy quarter-staff with one hand, sure?--Thrust forward theother palm."

  Looking down in sheer bashfulness, Joceline, like a bull about to push,extended to the King, over his lady's shoulder, a hand as broad and hardas a wooden trencher, which the King filled with gold coins. "Buy ahandful for my friend Phoebe with some of these," said Charles, "she toohas been doing her duty to Old
England."

  The King then turned once more to the knight, who seemed making aneffort to speak. He took his aged hand in both his own, and stooped hishead towards him to catch his accents, while the old man, detaining himwith the other hand, said something faltering, of which Charles couldonly catch the quotation--

  "Unthread the rude eye of rebellion, And welcome home again discarded faith."

  Extricating himself, therefore, as gently as possible, from a scenewhich began to grow painfully embarrassing, the good-natured King said,speaking with unusual distinctness to insure the old man's comprehendinghim, "This is something too public a place for all we have to say. Butif you come not soon to see King Charles at Whitehall, he will send downLouis Kerneguy to visit you, that you may see how rational thatmischievous lad is become since his travels."

  So saying, he once more pressed affectionately the old man's hand, bowedto Alice and all around, and withdrew; Sir Henry Lee listening with asmile, which showed he comprehended the gracious tendency of what hadbeen said. The old man leaned back on his seat, and muttered the _Nuncdimittas_.

  "Excuse me for having made you wait, my lords," said the King, as hemounted his horse; "indeed, had it not been for these good folks, youmight have waited for me long enough to little purpose.--Move on, sirs."

  The array moved on accordingly; the sound of trumpets and drums againrose amid the acclamations, which had been silent while the Kingstopped; while the effect of the whole procession resuming its motion,was so splendidly dazzling, that even Alice's anxiety about for herfather's health was for a moment suspended, while her eye followed thelong line of varied brilliancy that proceeded over the heath. When shelooked again at Sir Henry, she was startled to see that his cheek, whichhad gained some colour during his conversation with the King, hadrelapsed into earthly paleness; that his eyes were closed, and openednot again; and that his features expressed, amid their quietude, arigidity which is not that of sleep. They ran to his assistance, but itwas too late. The light that burned so low in the socket, had leaped up,and expired in one exhilarating flash.

  The rest must be conceived. I have only to add that his faithful dog didnot survive him many days; and that the image of Bevis lies carved athis master's feet, on the tomb which was erected to the memory of SirHenry Lee of Ditchley.

  [Footnote: It may interest some readers to know that Bevis, the gallanthound, one of the handsomest and active of the ancient Highlanddeer-hounds, had his prototype in a dog called Maida, the gift of thelate Chief of Glengarry to the author. A beautiful sketch was made byEdwin Landseer, and afterwards engraved. I cannot suppress the avowal ofsome personal vanity when I mention that a friend, going through Munich,picked up a common snuff-box, such as are sold for one franc, on whichwas displayed the form of this veteran favourite, simply marked as Derlieblung hund von Walter Scott. Mr. Landseer's painting is atBlair-Adam, the property of my venerable friend, the Right HonourableLord Chief Commissioner Adam.]