LADY GREENSLEEVES' STORY (CONTINUED).
_The Maids of Taunton._
Madame St. Aubert's young ladies were in the schoolroom one bright
June morning, putting away books, inkstands, samplers, etc., with
great energy and despatch; for both the clock of the old parish
church, and the sun-dial on the terrace walk beneath the schoolroom
windows, announced that morning lesson hours were over. That hour of
freedom before dinner-time was always eagerly welcomed by us. But it
had been longed for even more than usual this morning, for there was
something new to be talked over amongst us to-day,--something which,
in our opinion, was exciting and mysterious to a very high degree.
In the first place, Madame St. Aubert had been called out of the room
in the middle of a French lesson by one of the maids, and we were
sure that some extremely interesting piece of news must have been
imparted to her outside the door; for we could hear her exclamations
of surprise and (as we fancied) alarm quite distinctly at first,
though afterwards they sank into a much lower key. Then a buzz of
voices was heard on the stairs: the quick, decided tones of our old
vicar, Dr. Power, and the rather shrill and plaintive ones of little
Monsieur Guillemard, from whom Madame St. Aubert's young ladies
learned the gavotte, coranto, and many other stiff, elaborate dances
that were fashionable at the court in those days. This was not the
time for Monsieur Guillemard's lesson, nor was Dr. Power in the habit
of calling so early. Something out of the common way must,
doubtless, have happened; and there were we, obliged to sit demurely
at our desks, with closed lips, only able to exchange eager glances
of curiosity, and listen with straining ears to the subdued murmur on
the staircase. Pauline, Madame St. Aubert's daughter, and Mrs.
Fortescue, a lady next in command to Madame herself, were evidently
no less curious than we were; for the former opened her black eyes
very wide indeed, and arched her eyebrows significantly; while the
latter frowned, bit her lips, and took up the French lesson where
Madame had broken off, raising her voice meanwhile, and pretending
not to hear the buzz outside the door, though she could not help
casting from time to time an anxious glance in that direction.
Presently Madame St. Aubert came back, looking much flushed and
excited, but she only remarked to her daughter something about Dr.
Power having wished to wait upon her for a few moments; and then the
morning studies went on in their usual course, without further
interruption. You will not wonder after this, that scarcely a third
of the usual time was spent in putting the schoolroom in order. When
this task was accomplished at last, we poured out into the garden,
and settled down like a flock of sparrows on the soft turf under the
lime tree; for the sun was very hot that morning, and the pleasantest
spot in the garden was beneath the shade of those widely-spreading,
pale green branches. A most unusual thing it was to have anything
approaching to an event about which to puzzle our curious brains; for
time used to go on very monotonously at Madame St.
Aubert's,--monotonously, but at the same time not in the least slowly
or heavily. There were too many of us, and we were too busy all day
to be dull. Nevertheless, we were quite ready to catch at any fresh
little piece of excitement that chanced to break in upon the sameness
of the day. So there we sat, under the lime tree, and discussed the
mystery, as we called it, of the morning. But though we chattered to
our hearts' content, no conclusion could be reached concerning it.
There was something against every suggestion offered. Agnes Blount
thought that Madame must have heard of the death of some of her
French relations; but if so, why should she only look excited and
startled--not in the least melancholy or tearful? And Madames' tears
were well known to be ready, and abundant, too, on the smallest
possible occasion. Lucy Fordyce was of opinion that she might have
lost some large sum of money,--perhaps all her fortune,--and that Dr.
Power had come to break the news to her. There was the same
objection, however, to this as to Agnes's idea about the French
relations. Besides, Monsieur Guillemard was not a likely person to
bring tidings of such a misfortune. Bessie Davenant was sure that
the King must be dead; but this notion was instantly scouted as more
improbable than any, for Madame would of course have proclaimed that
piece of news on the spot, and ordered us to impress the date of such
an important historical fact on our minds, as she had done when King
Charles died, four months since--February 6th 1685. I never forgot
that date to the last day of my life. How I longed to prompt Robin
when Miss Gregory asked him one day on the stairs to tell her when
King Charles II. died, and he couldn't answer! Well! we were still
making conjectures, each one more wild and improbable than the last,
when Pauline St. Aubert was seen tripping down the steps of the
terrace. Now, Pauline was a great favourite among her pupils,
especially the elder girls, some of whom were but little younger than
herself; and as she was the very essence of good nature, and had
never been known to keep a secret for more than half an hour at the
utmost, we no sooner caught sight of her trim, graceful little figure
approaching the lime tree, than we felt sure that the news, whatever
it might be, was already ours.
'"Pauline! Pauline! The person above all others that we wanted!"
cried Bessie Davenant, one of the bosom friends who were allowed to
call Mademoiselle St. Aubert by her Christian name. Only three of us
enjoyed that privilege, and these were Henrietta Sidney, Bessie
Davenant, and Eleanor Page. We younger ones only ventured upon
"Mademoiselle!" In a moment we were all upon our feet and gathered
round Pauline; but, to our dismay, she had nothing to tell us, after
all. Not that she had been seized with a sudden fit of discretion,
but she was evidently perfectly ignorant of the matter, and quite as
curious and as much perplexed about it as we were ourselves.
'"Indeed I am not a whit wiser than the rest of you," she said,
laughing. "Mamma has not taken me into her confidence, I assure you.
I did just venture to ask her whether it was ill news that had
brought Dr. Power so early in the day, but she only chid me for being
curious about what was no business of mine, and said that Dr. Power
had come to take counsel with her on some matter that needed not my
help."
'"How very strange!" cried Bessie, much aggrieved and disappointed.
"But something is going on, Pauline. There can be no doubt about
that, and I shall never rest till we have found out what it is."
'"Something! Yes, indeed!" echoed Pauline. "Do you know there is a
strange man closeted in the little north parlour with mamma and Dr.
Power? The door was ajar when I passed, and I saw him--a little,
dark man, with a soldier-like bearing, I thought; but I had not time
to see much, for he scowled at me quite savagely, and shut the door
in a moment."
'There was a chorus of exclamations at this adventure of Pauline's.
A little, dark man!--a stranger!--and soldier-like in bearing!--who
shut the door with a ferocious scowl! This was a charming addition
to our mystery; and Pauline was questioned and cross-questioned to a
degree that no one else could have borne without losing patience.
But she only laughed and shook her head, declaring that she had told
us all she knew, and (she feared) a great deal more than she ought.
'"Oh! mamma was right," she said, throwing herself lazily on to the
turf seat that went round the lime tree. "She knows that a secret is
as sure to come out, if I have the keeping of it, as sand out of a
sieve. But, oh! you are all so terribly curious, and I am such a
'bavarde.' Ah! well, never mind. We shall hear all about it in
time, doubtless. Oh Frances, what a rent in your ruffle! What will
Mrs. Fortescue say if she finds it out?"
'Pauline's words made me colour, and look down rather disconsolately
at the ruffle in question, for I knew well enough what Mrs. Fortescue
would say. Her commands, as we were leaving the schoolroom, had
been, that Lady Desmond should not appear before her eyes again until
that ruffle was mended; and Mrs. Fortescue's commands were not to be
lightly treated. We stood in far more awe of her than of Madame St.
Aubert herself; and I had not the least doubt that, if the
dinner-bell rang before her orders were obeyed, I should be condemned
to solitary banishment in the schoolroom while the other girls were
enjoying their walk in the cool of the evening.
'"Poor child! How woeful she looks!" cried Bessie Davenant
compassionately. "Never mind, Frances, I'll come and help you.
There is time before dinner, if we run in at once, trusting to good
luck not to meet Mrs. Fortescue by the way;" and Bessie, whose course
of action was always prompt and decided, on account of her never
waiting to think about anything, caught my hand, and we sped together
across the lawn, and along the sunny terrace walk into the house,
never pausing till we sank panting upon a bench in the schoolroom.
We had sat there for a moment in silence, to recover our breath, when
the sound of Mrs. Fortescue's voice made me give a guilty start, and
glance at Bessie in alarm. The door was ajar of a little ante-room
which opened into the schoolroom ("Madame's own closet," we used to
call it), and Madame St. Aubert was there now. We could hear her
voice, though we could not catch the words; but Mrs. Fortescue's was
not pitched in so low a key.
'"The Duke of Monmouth!" we heard her exclaim, "will set foot, do you
say, on English ground in two days? Then God save him, poor youth,
and help him to his own rightful kingdom. But what a fearful
struggle..."
'Bessie and I had been staring at one another for the last few
moments in motionless surprise; but here, by mutual consent, we rose,
and were about to slip quietly back to the door by which we had
entered, when another voice cut short Mrs. Fortescue's speech, and
brought us for an instant to a sudden standstill. This was a man's
voice, and a very harsh and unrefined one, too, which certainly
belonged to none of the few men whom Madame St. Aubert was wont to
admit to her house.
'"Pardon, Madame," it said rather gruffly, "but I must pray you to be
somewhat less loud. Remember whose life and fortune is at stake.
This is no child's play, Madame, let me tell you!"
'At this juncture I pulled Bessie's dress, and, while the colour
rushed into her face, she turned, and we stole softly from the room.
I do not think either of us breathed freely till we found ourselves
again in the garden, and safe from view in a shady, winding path,
through a tangled confusion of shrubs and trees, which went by the
name of "The Wilderness." As for myself, I had scarcely yet realized
what a secret it was that we two had found out,--what those words
meant that had come to our ears during the few moments when,
astonished and taken aback, we paused and listened to what we had no
right to hear. But their significance was clear enough to Bessie,
for she had lived five years longer in the world than I had, and was
a little more learned in the news of the day.
'"Oh Frances!" she exclaimed, looking half frightened, half
triumphant, "what have we done! What would Madame say if she knew
what we have heard? But oh! to think that the mystery should prove
to be this. What glorious news! Oh, if I were only a man, to be
with him! Alack! alack!" and Bessie leaned against an apple tree,
and vented her excitement in a tremendous sigh.
'"But, Bessie, why? Do tell me. I didn't quite understand," I
cried, feeling eager and excited too in a high degree, and quite
ready to be as enthusiastic as Bessie herself--only, somewhat
bewildered as to who was going to set foot on English ground, and why
there should be such a commotion about him.
'"Hush! who is that?" said Bessie with a start, at the sound of
approaching footsteps; and, even as she spoke, Henrietta Sidney came
in sight, sauntering up the shady path.
'"Well, Frances, is the ruffle mended already?" she began, but
stopped short at the sight of Bessie's flushed cheeks and sparkling
eyes. "Something is the matter," she remarked at length, in her
gentle, composed, perhaps rather languid way.
'"Oh Henrietta!" exclaimed Bessie, springing forward and seizing both
her hands; "if it is only you, I don't care. Yes, indeed, something
is the matter. Such glorious tidings! The secret is out. And what
do you think? The Duke of Monmouth is going to land in two days and
claim his crown; and we shall have another civil war, to a certainty!
There is that strange man that Pauline spoke of; but now, instead of
the north parlour, he is in Madame's closet, talking to her and Mrs.
Fortescue. Why he should come to tell them, I cannot imagine----"
'"But, Bessie, do stop one moment," interrupted Henrietta
imploringly, "is this really true? And how did you find it out?
This mysterious man did not surely confide all this to you and
Frances!"
'"Oh no, no; they never meant us to hear it, of course." And Bessie
and I hereupon poured out an explanation of how we had chanced to
learn this wonderful piece of intelligence. Henrietta made no
comment as she listened, but her face grew thoughtful and troubled.
She evidently did not look at the affair quite in the same light that
Bessie did.
'"And now, Henrietta," I began eagerly, when we had finished our
story, "I want to know what they meant about the Duke of Monmouth,
and why he is coming to England."
'"Hush!" she said in a tone that, for her, was almost sharp. And I
was silenced directly; for, in spite of Henrietta's indolent, gentle
manner, there was something about her now and then that made me feel
slightly afraid of her. In fact I think that all the girls had a
great respect for her judgment, though she was rather cold and shy,
and by no means such a favourite among them as Bessie, or Pauline St.
Aubert.
'"Indeed, Frances," she said earnestly, "you must not speak of this
to any one else. You ought not to have told me. I wish, with all my
heart, that we all knew as little of it now as we did half an hour
ago."
'"But why?" asked Bessie, looking both crestfallen and alarmed at
this view of the matter; for her excitement was a good deal damped by
Henrietta's anxious tone and serious face.
'"Oh Bessie, don't you see? In the first place, you had no right to
hear this, much less to tell me about it; and I cannot help feeling
as if we were doing something dishonourable and underhand in knowing
it at all. Besides, as the man himself said, this is no child's
play. It seems to me that it must be a really weighty secret, which
may bring Madame St. Aubert, and perhaps even us, into trouble some
day."
'"Nonsense!" Bessie broke in impatiently; "you always were so
discreet and cautious, Henrietta. 'Tis a marvel to me how you can
talk in such a cold, selfish, heartless way. Why, even if it were to
bring us into trouble--which is not likely at all--I should be proud
to go through a little danger for such a cause."
'"Such a cause!" repeated Henrietta, with a slightly sarcastic smile.
"Well, I don't know," she continued relapsing into her peculiarly
low, deliberate tone; "but even if the cause were a right one, I
should think another civil war would do more harm than good. My
father has often told me stories about the last, and what he and my
grandmother used to go through; and I do not want another to come in
my time. No, Bessie, I call your tidings anything but glorious."
'"My dear Henrietta, I do not believe there will be a civil war at
all. Depend upon it, all the country will flock to join the Duke of
Monmouth. He is so much more popular than the King; and he is brave
and handsome, and his manners are so gracious. Besides, he is going
to defend the Protestant religion; and it is a well-known thing that
King James wants to turn us all into Papists, and make bonfires of
every body, just as cruel Queen Mary did."
'Henrietta knitted her forehead, in order, I suppose, the better to
ponder the subject; and slowly plucked to pieces, leaf by leaf, a
York and Lancaster rose that she wore in her sash.
'"I suppose," she said at length, with a little sigh, as she raised
her head, "that, in truth, neither of us knows much about the matter.
We only think as we have been taught to think at home. All I know
is, what my father used to say about the Duke of Monmouth,--that he
has no right to the throne whatever, and that, even if he were to get
it, he has not wit enough to keep it; and also, that he is a bad,
unprincipled man, who cares as little for the Protestant faith as for
any other."
'"Then your father judges him very harshly and untruly, and can know
nothing about him," cried Bessie, firing up in high indignation. "My
uncle is his great friend, and I have often heard him say that the
Duke of Monmouth is a stanch Protestant, and a man of honour, and far
more noble and princely than the King."
'To this Henrietta made no reply, and at first I thought she was
offended, and going off wrathfully without another word, for she
turned away and moved a few steps up the shrubbery; then, after a
moment's hesitation, she came back and laid her hand upon Bessie's
arm.
'"Listen to me, Bess. I don't wish to quarrel about the Duke of
Monmouth or anybody else; but in this we shall agree, I warrant:
Madame St. Aubert ought to be told that we have found out this secret
of hers. I am heartily sorry that you chanced to overhear it; but,
since we have discovered it, and in this way too (which is a somewhat
crooked one, I must say), I think the only straightforward thing to
do is to go at once and tell her simply what we know, and how we knew
it."
'Bessie opened her eyes very wide, and turned them with a quick,
startled look upon Henrietta. "Well, I am ready," she said, the next
moment, making up her mind, as usual, without the smallest
hesitation. "You are quite right, Henrietta. It is but fair that
Madame should know. It was shameful in me not to have spoken to her
at the time. Come, Frances, we will go to her at once, and tell her
that the Duke of Monmouth's secret is safe, at least as far as you
and I are concerned;" and Bessie drew up her head proudly, and,
throwing her arm round my waist, marched majestically through The
Wilderness with a sort of defiant air, as if prepared to undertake
the Duke of Monmouth's defence against his enemies in general, and
Henrietta in particular. I, for my part, stepped along by Bessie's
side, trying to look equally fearless and defiant, and feeling ready
to stand by her through thick and thin; for we two were great
friends, notwithstanding the five years' difference in our ages. As
to the right or wrong of the question, I did not bestow a thought
upon that, my ideas upon politics being vague to the last degree. I
suppose no child in the kingdom, at that time, knew less about the
events taking place in it than I did. I had seldom or never heard
political subjects discussed at home, for mamma certainly hardly ever
talked of them, and, I fancy, thought very little about them either;
and even when my father was at Horsemandown, I saw so little of him
or his friends that I had not the remotest notion as to what his
opinions were. However, I was fond of Bessie, and Bessie believed in
the Duke of Monmouth,--and that was enough for me; so I made up my
mind to believe in him too. Nevertheless, I could not quite get rid
of the impression which Henrietta's words had made. She had never
been in the habit of taking much notice of me, or indeed of any of
the younger girls; and we used to laugh at her languid, sleepy
manner, and declare that Henrietta had no feelings--that the shock of
an earthquake, or news that the great plague had broken out again in
Taunton, would scarcely make her take the trouble of lifting her eyes
from her book, or rising from her chair. I daresay she was quite
aware of these jokes of ours, and that they did not help to make her
less cold and indifferent towards us; but, for all this, one of
Henrietta's quiet, lazily spoken remarks had often more weight with
us than the most decided and strongly expressed opinions of the other
girls. I looked back at her as she walked behind Bessie and me up
the shrubbery. She was grave, and rather white, and though she had
urged us to make this confession to Madame St. Aubert, I saw that she
was going with intense reluctance, and entirely because she
considered it a matter of honour and duty.
'"Are they still there?" whispered Bessie as we opened the schoolroom
door and looked anxiously in the direction of Madame's closet. Yes!
there they were still, without doubt; but the door was no longer
ajar, and only an indistinct murmur of voices was audible from
within. But as we lingered, hesitating what step next to take, the
ante-room door opened, and Madame St. Aubert came forth, followed by
Mrs. Fortescue and the stranger, whom Pauline had justly described as
"a little, dark man, with a soldier-like bearing." Soldier-like it
certainly was, but not the bearing of a gentleman. Indeed there was
something about him which struck me, at the first glance, as low,
unrefined, and decidedly disagreeable.
'Madame stopped short at the sight of us, for it was most unusual to
find any of the girls in the school-room at that hour; and she looked
considerably taken aback, and by no means pleased. As for the
stranger, after staring at us for a moment in a most cool, insolent
way, he turned, with a frown, to Madame St. Aubert, saying: "It seems
to me, Madame, that one may scarce hope for privacy in your house for
more than ten minutes at a time. And, pray, who may those young
gentlewomen be?"
'There was something so peremptory and familiar in his way of
speaking, that all three of the said young gentlewomen felt
inexpressibly ruffled and indignant; but Henrietta's cheeks were
burning, and I never had imagined before that her large, sleepy, grey
eyes could look so absolutely fierce as they did for a moment just
then.
'"Girls, what are you doing here at this hour? Why are you not in
the garden with the rest?" asked Madame St. Aubert, without answering
the strange man's question. She glanced at us sharply, and somewhat
suspiciously, as if the idea had entered her mind that we might
possibly have been listening to the conversation in the ante-room.
There was a minute's silence, while Madame, annoyed and impatient,
stood waiting for an answer.
'What a privilege I felt it then to be the youngest of the party! I
drew back as far behind the others as I could, and twitched Bessie's
dress. But though, as I said before, Bessie never stayed to think
twice ere she set about an undertaking, she was not always quite so
prompt in finishing it. Now and then things would suddenly prove too
much for her, and she would break down helplessly before her schemes
could be carried out. Now I pulled her dress without producing the
slightest effect. It was clear that, if Madame St. Aubert was to be
told of our discovery at all, Henrietta must be the person to do it.
So, seeing that there was no help for it, she came forward, and
speaking, evidently with a great effort, and in a rather husky voice,
she gave a very short, but very clear, explanation of how matters
stood. Meanwhile Madame St. Aubert looked every moment more and more
perplexed and angry, and the mysterious man bit his lip and growled
wrathfully to himself. I thought his ejaculations sounded uncommonly
like oaths, only they were, fortunately, somewhat indistinct.
'"I warned you how it would be, Madame," said he bluntly, nodding
with a sarcastic smile towards Mrs Fortescue, when Henrietta had
finished her story. "You lack discretion, Madame--discretion--like
most women. I crave pardon, but I cannot but say so. What with loud
speaking, and doors left ajar, here are three babbling children
acquainted with a matter which you solemnly promised should be kept
strictly secret."
[Illustration: 'YOU LACK DISCRETION, MADAME--DISCRETION--LIKE MOST
WOMEN.']
'Poor Madame St. Aubert looked round distractedly. It was plain that
she was very angry, and wished to pour forth her anger upon somebody,
but could not make up her mind whether it should fall upon the head
of this extremely plain-spoken gentleman, Mrs. Fortescue, or "those
three babbling girls," her pupils.
'Mrs. Fortescue, however, though she might know herself in the wrong,
was not a person to be easily browbeaten. "Very well, Colonel Dare,"
quoth she with severity; "and, craving your pardon, I must needs say
that your courtesy is as scant as you deem our discretion. You would
do well, sir, to learn something of chivalry from his Grace of
Monmouth. He would not speak to the wife of one of his troopers in
such a tone as you have used to us."
'This reproof seemed considerably to abash Colonel Dare; for his face
grew very red--indeed I may almost say purple--and he muttered, in a
stammering, confused kind of way, something about being a rough,
honest soldier--not used to ladies' presence, and never thinking to
give offence--only, somewhat hot in his zeal for the great cause;
which excuses appeared in some degree to appease Mrs. Fortescue's
wrath, and Madame's perplexity and distress. They evidently both
wished to be on good terms with this odd, churlish, little Colonel
Dare--Madame St. Aubert especially.
'"Come, come, Monsieur," she said, with a graceful little wave of the
hand, "you have said quite enough. You have made 'l'amende
honorable.' I have no doubt that Mrs. Fortescue is satisfied, and
that we all understand one another perfectly. But now let me intreat
you to set your mind at rest. I can assure you that these young
ladies will not betray us. Is it not so, mes petites? You will give
me each your word of honour to say nothing of this news that you have
heard, until you have my permission. It can be but two or three days
more before it will be known to the whole kingdom."
'"With all my heart, Madame," Bessie cried, springing forward in her
impetuous way, her pretty bright face glowing with eagerness and
enthusiasm. "There is nothing I would wish for more than to serve
the Duke; and I would rather die a thousand deaths than say a word
which could harm him!"
'"Ah! bravo! bravo! young mistress," exclaimed Colonel Dare, who had
been surveying Bessie with a curious, critical gaze for some moments.
"I see you are one of us. We have no fear of you. But this little
lady here, what has she to say for herself?" and he glanced
doubtfully from me to Madame St. Aubert.
'"I think she may be trusted," Madame said, smiling a little, and
holding out her hand to me. "When one is already a wife, one ought
to be discreet enough to keep a secret; eh, Frances? Yes, I think we
may trust Lady Desmond!"
'These words made me altogether forget my shyness and my fright, and
I ran to Madame St. Aubert's side, exclaiming as enthusiastically as
Bessie herself: "Oh yes; indeed, Madame, you may trust me; and I
would do anything to serve the Duke of Monmouth too, if I could--just
as much as Bessie would." They all began to laugh at this speech
(except Henrietta)--even the sour-looking Colonel Dare, which rather
hurt my feelings, for I was quite in earnest, and really began to
feel myself a loyal and devoted follower of the Duke of Monmouth,
though, until the last hour, I had scarcely heard more of him than
his name.
'"And Henrietta?" asked Madame St. Aubert gently, though at the same
time with a shade of uneasiness in her tone--"But I scarce need call
for your promise. You are no babbler, as we all surely know."
'Henrietta, however, made no answer. She had stood for the last few
minutes with eyes fixed absently on the window, seeming to take no
notice whatever of anything that was passing. Her mouth twitched
nervously, and she was knitting her brows, as if trying to think out
something that both puzzled and worried her a good deal.
'"Well, Henrietta?" demanded Mrs. Fortescue impatiently.
'"You will give us your word," said Madame, with her most persuasive
smile; and then Henrietta roused herself with a little sigh, and gave
the promise required, repeating Madame St. Aubert's own words: "Yes,
Madame, I give you my word of honour to say nothing of this matter,
until I have your permission."
'There was so much effort and reluctance in her tone as she said
this, that Colonel Dare's fierce little black eyes were turned upon
her with a distrustful glance. "If you follow my counsel, Madame,"
said he, "you will request young mistress here to give that pledge
again with her hand upon the Bible."
'Once more Henrietta's face lighted up with indignation. "I have
given my promise already, sir," she said proudly. "May I go,
Madame?" and scarcely waiting for Madame St. Aubert's nod of assent,
she made her courtesy and left the room.
'"Ah! never fear. She is safe enough," said Madame reassuringly.
"Henrietta's promise is as good as an oath."
'A doubtful "Humph!" was Colonel Dare's only reply; after which came
the abrupt question: "Pray, who is she?"
'"One of the Gloucestershire Sidneys. A daughter of Mr. Sidney of
Nettlewood."
'"James Sidney of Nettlewood!" Colonel Dare scowled more disagreeably
than ever as he repeated this name. "That speaks for itself. The
Duke and he have but little love lost between them. I suppose that
proud, sullen-looking damsel of his is not likely to have any
intercourse with her father just now?"
'Madame St. Aubert again assured him of Henrietta's trustworthiness,
and then went on to explain all about the family and connections of
Bessie and myself. I was astonished to find how much he had already
heard of me and my history. Indeed he seemed, I thought, to know
quite as much, if not more than I did myself, of my father, Sir Harry
Mountfort, and my young husband, Lord Desmond. At Sir Harry's name,
both he and Madame St. Aubert shook their heads ominously. "No hope
of him--not a jot," they pronounced. "Hand and glove with the King;
and the young Earl Desmond a minor, and of course wholly under his
guardian's influence for the present." But of my father they spoke
far less despondingly. Why, I could not imagine; for, as I remarked
before, I had not the smallest idea of what his political opinions
might be. Colonel Dare, however, seemed to have some reason for
thinking that my father was inclined to favour the Duke of Monmouth's
claims; and he made one or two attempts to find out whether I had
ever heard anything let fall by him upon the subject; but discovering
in a very little while how utterly ignorant I was, he ceased
questioning me, and turned to Bessie, who was ready enough to answer
anything that he chose to ask. She had been brought up by her uncle,
Sir Geoffrey Davenant, a Somersetshire knight, living not many miles
from Taunton; and it was in his house that she had learned her ardent
devotion to the Duke of Monmouth. Sir Geoffrey's political
principles were apparently as well known to the shrewd Colonel Dare
as those of Henrietta's father and mine; and he seemed very well
satisfied with what he drew from Bessie concerning her uncle and her
uncle's friends.
'"If I should chance to see Sir Geoffrey before many days are out, I
shall tell him that his kinswoman's heart is with us," was Colonel
Dare's parting speech to Bessie when Madame St. Aubert at last
dismissed us. "Oh, if I were only as rich as Henrietta, or Eleanor
Page!" So exclaimed Bessie, as we ran up-stairs into the great
bed-chamber where the six elder girls slept. None of them were there
at present; and Bessie sat down upon her own bed, with one arm thrown
round me, sighing out again, "If I was but as rich as Henrietta!"
'"Why do you want to be rich, Bessie? Do you want money so much just
now?"
'"How can you ask, child? That I may give it all to him, to be sure."
'"To that Colonel Dare?"
'"No, no. To the Duke, of course. But Colonel Dare would take it to
him."
'"Bessie! To the Duke! But what does he want it for? Besides,
hasn't he plenty of money of his own?"
"Oh Frances, you are such a child! How is he to raise soldiers
without money? He must feed his army, and buy arms and horses and
everything; and from what I have heard my uncle say, I suspect he has
by no means more money than he wants, especially for such an
enterprise as this. I should not wonder if that was what that
gentleman wanted of Madame St. Aubert. She has a very good fortune,
I know."
'These were quite new ideas to me, and rather surprising ones too;
for, never having studied the subject deeply, I had always held a
kind of vague belief that dukes, as a matter of course, had gold and
silver to any amount they chose; while the fact that armies must eat,
and that soldiers must be paid for fighting, had somehow never struck
me before.
'"Frances, have you any money?" Bessie asked, rising suddenly, and
opening a chest by the bedside. "Look! This is all I have left: not
much, but it shall go to him. I know my uncle would give me more if
I were really in need of it."
'She turned out the contents of a little Spanish leather purse upon
the bed. There were three golden guineas, a crown piece, and a few
small silver coins. It certainly did not look a very magnificent sum
as it lay spread out upon the quilt; nor did my contribution make it
much more imposing, for my whole store was but one double guinea
piece, which I had meant to spend on presents for the boys, to be
given when I went home at Christmas. But now I was fast catching
Bessie's zeal. Who could think of Christmas presents in comparison
with a great cause like this? I felt quite sure that Oliver would
enter into my view of the case, if he could be consulted; so I laid
my gold piece beside Bessie's, and we looked at them for a few
minutes in solemn silence, which I was the first to interrupt.
'"I suppose Henrietta would not help us?"
'"Not she, forsooth!" said Bessie, with a contemptuous curl of the
lip. "Nothing would induce me to ask her. But if we tarry so long,
Colonel Dare will be gone. Many thanks to you, sweetheart, for what
you have given;" and gathering up the little heap, Bessie put it into
the purse, and tripped down-stairs with all possible speed. I leaned
over the balustrade, and watched her as she met Madame St. Aubert and
her visitor outside the study door, and I saw her blush and smile as
he took the purse and raised her hand to his lips. Colonel Dare took
his departure hastily, for all the girls from the garden were
beginning to pour in, and the great bell was ringing for dinner.
* * * * *
'Three days had passed by, and Bessie, Henrietta, and I still kept
our secret. I thought them rather pleasant days myself, for I was
extremely proud of the important piece of knowledge which Madame St.
Aubert had been involuntarily obliged to leave in my keeping. But I
do not know that the two others wholly shared this opinion.
Certainly Henrietta did not. She looked more and more grave and
oppressed, and never spoke of the subject to either of us; while
Bessie was in such a fever of expectation that it was all she could
do to keep up her self-command before the other girls. Whenever we
could manage it, she and I used to get alone together, and talk about
the only subject that now had any interest for us. When should we
hear the news of Monmouth's landing? would he be likely to march near
Taunton? and would Bessie's uncle, Sir Geoffrey Davenant, take up
arms in his behalf? These were the questions which we asked
ourselves at least a dozen times a day; and I drank in Bessie's
doctrines without a thought of disputing them, till I was becoming
heart and soul as rebellious a little subject of King James as she
was herself. I should probably have found it much harder to keep my
lips sealed to the rest of the household, if there had been no Bessie
with whom to chatter freely about the secret; and I have no doubt I
was equally useful to her in enabling her to give a vent to her
feelings.
'We two had always been friends from that first dismal winter's night
when I first arrived at Madame St. Aubert's, a tearful, disconsolate
little bride, tired out with the long, cold journey, and most unhappy
at leaving--not the husband whom I had known for a day, but home,
mamma, and my brothers; not to mention all the animals, that I cared
for only next to them. Yes, that was a very miserable night to me;
and I must confess that what added a sharp sting to my grief was the
feeling of intense mortification at having to come down from the
dignified position which I had held of late and so thoroughly
enjoyed. A few days ago I was the most important person in the
house,--treated with all the honour and attention due to a bride, and
almost as if I were a woman; and now, here I was, only a little girl
again, at school among strangers, and conscious of being younger and
smaller than most of my companions, and not equal to any of them in
good manners and accomplishments. How kind Bessie was to me that
night! It was her bright winning manner and good-natured words that
first began to set me at ease; and during my early school-days,
whenever a home-sick fit of crying came over me, I always went to
Bessie to be petted and comforted. That intense home-sickness had
been over now for a long time. To be sure, I looked forward eagerly
to the next Christmas, when I was to be at Horsemandown once more;
but I had grown used to the routine of Madame St. Aubert's house by
this time, and found myself much happier at school than I could once
have imagined possible. Mrs. Fortescue was sharp and severe,
sometimes, it is true; but Madame St. Aubert was, in general,
remarkably kind to her pupils,--far more gentle and indulgent than
most governesses of those days were wont to be. I did not dislike
the studies either; though I must say we were somewhat hardly worked,
and spent a great deal more time over them than would be considered
wholesome in a schoolroom of the present time,--in the Horsemandown
schoolroom, at all events. The learning to dance, to speak French,
and to play upon the harp and virginals, was what I liked best; and I
soon began to get on very well in those accomplishments--especially
the music and dancing--and to discover that Agnes Blount's skill in
them might not be so hopelessly beyond my reach, after all. My
schoolfellows, too, I liked very much on the whole; and I think that
on their part they had rather a respect for me--especially those of
my own age--on account of my being, child as I was, already a wife,
and wife to the Earl of Desmond. It seemed strange, even then, that
among the pupils should be numbered a bride, and that she should be
one of the youngest of all; but still not half so strange as if it
were nowadays; for, according to a very common custom in those times,
several of the girls were betrothed, and one or two of them had been
so from babyhood. Well, but to continue my story. For three days,
as I said, we had kept our secret. The excitement of the girls about
Madame's "mystery," as they chose to call it, was beginning to go
off. In fact it was fast fading away, in the interest of a scheme,
started by Pauline, for getting up a little French masque, to be
acted on her mother's birthday, or, as Pauline called it, her "fête."
One morning, however, it happened that, although when Madame St.
Aubert's fourteen young ladies sat down to breakfast the projected
masque was uppermost in the minds of eleven of them, yet before their
basins of milk were empty it had gone out of their heads altogether;
and this was the reason: "Dr. Power begs permission to wait upon you,
Madame," was a message that made every one look up in surprise.
Half-past six was so very early for Dr. Power, who was celebrated for
his late rising. Madame St. Aubert rose hurriedly from her chair,
but before she could leave the table the Doctor himself peered in at
the open door.
'"Too anxious to announce my news to await your summons, Madame,"
said he, with an apologetic bow so profound that his flowing wig
almost swept the floor. "Ladies, you must pardon me for this
intrusion; but when I tell you that the Duke of Monmouth has landed
at Lyme----"
'"Landed at Lyme!" cried Madame St. Aubert, exultingly echoed by Mrs.
Fortescue and Bessie.
'"The Duke of Monmouth!" repeated Pauline in tones of astonishment,
while the young ladies all put down their spoons and opened their
eyes; and murmurs of "Oh!" "Who?" "Where?" "What for?" ran round the
table.
"Yes, landed yesterday morning at Lyme," Dr. Power proceeded, after a
loud and violent fit of coughing, which seemed much to exasperate
Bessie. "I only heard the news this morning. They say he was at the
head of more than a thousand men last night, and by this time, I
warrant me, all Dorsetshire and Devonshire will have joined him. It
was Dare who sent me word. He left this place at two o'clock this
morning, with a troop of forty horsemen behind him; thanks to your
liberality, Madame." (Here Bessie glanced at me significantly.)
"'Tis only a handful, to be sure," continued Dr. Power, "but he'll
pick up more on the road. There's a piece of news for you, young
ladies!" he rattled on, rubbing his hands and nodding triumphantly;
"and a piece of news for King James too (not that he will be king
much longer). Ah, I should like to know what _he_ thinks of the
business!"
'"Well, but, Dr. Power," cried Madame at last impatiently, for she
had already made two vain attempts to strike in, and would not have
managed to do so now had not Dr. Power's breath at last given way
altogether,--"tell us some more details. How was he received in the
place? Was there no opposition made to his landing?"
'"Opposition? None whatever. He was received most enthusiastically.
The whole town was ringing with shouts of 'A Monmouth! A Monmouth!
God save Monmouth and the Protestant religion!' Then up went his
blue flag in the market-place, and his Declaration was read from the
town-cross."
'At this point Bessie could not resist clapping her hands, and was
even heard to utter a smothered "Hurrah."
'"And he proclaimed himself King?" asked Mrs. Fortescue.
'"No, no; not yet. He is prudent enough to put that off for a bit.
He declares that his right to the throne shall be decided by a free
Parliament; but he denounces his uncle for a tyrant, usurper,
murderer, and I know not what beside. (Somewhat too strong in
language this Declaration must be, to my thinking.) Well, and then
he claims to be champion and leader of all English Protestants."
'"And so he is, without doubt," cried Madame St. Aubert, clasping her
hands vehemently. "He will save us all from being made Papists,
whether we will or no, or perchance burned alive at Smithfield. Ah
yes! Mark my words, Dr. Power. He is the only man to save England,
and all England will soon rise in arms to join him. God bless him, I
say, and confound his enemies! Long live the Duke of Monmouth!"
'Madame's agitation at this juncture became too much for her. She
sank suddenly into the nearest seat, and buried her face in her
handkerchief. She was an excitable person always, Madame St. Aubert;
but never before had she been seen by her pupils wrought up to such a
state of uncontrollable excitement as this; and never before had our
silent, formal breakfast been enlivened by such a commotion. There
stood all the girls huddled together, surprised, embarrassed,
curious, and some half frightened. There was my bowl of milk upset,
and streaming quietly over the table-cloth, with Mrs. Fortescue
actually taking not the smallest notice of it; there was Dr. Power
with his wig more crooked than I could ever have conceived possible
if I had not seen it; and, what seemed stranger to us than anything
else, there was Madame St. Aubert perched on one of our narrow,
long-legged, and most uncomfortable stools, instead of her own chair
of state, and almost tumbling off, from the vehemence of her
hysterical sobs.
'"What does it all mean? Is there going to be a civil war?"
whispered Agnes Blount to Bessie, who was in far too much of a
flutter either to hear or heed.
'"But does the King really want to burn us? Alack! alack! I will
never be made a Papist," protested little Lucy Fordyce, her brown
eyes round with horror.
'"I wonder if Madame will give us a holiday," suggested Camilla
Fanshawe with great animation; and even as she spoke I heard Dr.
Power making that self-same proposal to Madame St. Aubert, who was
beginning to recover a little, the high stool not being a favourable
place for giving way to "attendrissement."
'"Yes," she said, after drying her eyes and going back to her state
chair. Yes, that was just what she had been about to announce. Who
could be expected to attend to study after such a piece of news as
this? Therefore she proclaimed a whole holiday, in honour of the day
which, she hoped, we never would forget to the latest hour of our
lives.
'"And now I wonder whether these young ladies know what it is that
they are to keep in mind till the latest day of their lives," said
Dr. Power, looking round upon us with his jovial, good-humoured
smile. "This little maid, for instance," as his eye fell upon Lucy
Fordyce's beaming face. "Come hither, child, and tell us all about
it."
'But Lucy's ideas upon the subject were evidently misty in the
extreme. She looked terribly puzzled and piteous; and I have no
doubt that it was only a strong faith in the promised holiday that
kept the tears out of her eyes. "Because--why, because," she
stammered in answer to Dr. Power's question.
'"Why does Madame St. Aubert wish you to remember to-day?" repeated
the Doctor.
'We are to have a holiday because the Duke of Monmouth----' and here
Lucy came to a dead stop, being utterly at a loss to know what it was
exactly that the Duke of Monmouth had been doing.
'"He came over from Holland on purpose to ask for a holiday, eh?"
said Dr. Power, laughing, and tapping her under the chin. "Very
good-natured of his Grace, upon my life! Well, well, never mind,
sweetheart; but listen to me, and I'll tell you the reason of his
coming over." Whereupon the good vicar launched forth into a
vigorous little lecture, all about the Duke of Monmouth, and the
great things that he was going to do for the country. Such a hero,
according to Dr. Power's description, had never been known in England
since the days of the Black Prince. Indeed I began to think again of
those marvellous stories that Shad used to tell of King Arthur and
his knights of the Round Table, and my admiration for the Duke of
Monmouth waxed hotter than ever. The Duke (so Dr. Power told us) was
a true and stanch Protestant, and his uncle King James a bigoted
Papist, who would force us all soon to be Papists too, unless we
chose rather to be put to the torture or burned alive, like those
poor souls in wicked Queen Mary's reign. From this the Duke had come
to save us. The King cared only for the privileges of the Crown, and
nought for the rights of his subjects. He would make us slaves, and
sell the country to France. Monmouth was bent solely upon guarding
the liberty of the Parliament and the people. Under him we should
be, as the Prayer-book said, "godly and quietly governed;" and every
one would be free to worship in peace as his conscience taught him.
Moreover, the Duke was the true heir. He had a better title to the
throne than the present King. Why, Dr. Power did not wait to explain
at that time. We should not understand the merits of the question,
he said, even were he to enter into it; but such, he assured us, was
the case. The Duke's enemies, with his uncle at their head, had
contrived to banish him six years ago; but now, here he was back on
English ground again, with a loyal band of followers. The country
was rising in all directions. In a short time the best part of
England would be with him, the Popish King would be driven from his
throne, and a Protestant prince, loved and honoured by every true
Englishman, would reign in his stead.
'So ended Dr. Power's oration, to which we listened with much respect
and awe. No one, of course, presumed to question what he said;
though I thought Henrietta looked as if she could have disputed the
truth of some of his remarks had she dared. Mrs. Fortescue did
murmur something about our parents' political opinions not having
been consulted; but she was summarily quenched by Dr. Power's
indignant "Pshaw! pshaw! Madame; are we to plant unsound political
faith in young minds for any consideration whatever? No, Madame; if
the parents of these children choose to disapprove what Madame St.
Aubert teaches, why, then, let them take away their daughters from
her care."
'For my own part, I thought it a matter of course that Dr. Power's
side of the question must be the right one. It was enough for me
that Madame St. Aubert and Mrs. Fortescue were on that side, not to
mention my favourite, Bessie; but when Dr. Power,--the vicar of our
parish, whom we were all in the habit of holding in the greatest
veneration and respect as a pious and learned divine,--when he said
that the Duke of Monmouth was right and the King wrong, it seemed to
me that no one ought to have any more doubt upon the matter. It gave
me a slight shock, to be sure, to hear his Majesty spoken of in such
terms of disrespect, for mamma had always taught me that we ought to
honour the King; but then Dr. Power had said that the Duke of
Monmouth had really more right to be king than he, so my mind was set
at ease upon that point. I had not learned in those days that even
learned and pious men can sometimes make mistakes, nor that two
people may be equally honest--equally wise and good--and yet see the
same thing in a perfectly different light.
'The day was a most glorious one. Never was a more perfect summer
morning. We were in exuberant spirits when we poured out into the
garden, to make the most of our holiday, and talk about the great
event which we were to remember to the last hour of our lives. I
think we all obeyed that injunction of Madame St. Aubert's to the
letter. I can answer for three of us at any rate.
'"We are absolved from our secret, Frances," said Bessie. "Madame
St. Aubert called me back to tell me so, and to bid me give you both
her best thanks for keeping it so well."
"She owes me her thanks," said Henrietta, with a sigh of relief. "It
has been a very painful secret to me, and I am heartily glad to have
done with it."
"So that was the reason your face grew so bright when Dr. Power told
us the news!" cried Bessie, laughing. "I thought it could not be on
the Duke's account."
'"No, indeed. I was only thinking that, now he really has landed,
the news must soon be known all over the country. I have been very
uneasy ever since that promise, Bessie. I was loth enough to give
it, but I could not refuse to keep a secret that we had found out in
such a questionable, hardly honourable, kind of way." Bessie opened
her eyes.
'"Uneasy! But why uneasy? My dear Henrietta, if you had refused to
promise, what difference would it have made? What could you have
done?"
'"I don't quite know, but I felt as if I had no right to hide such a
very serious piece of news as that. It seemed to me that I ought, in
strict right, to let my father know of it."
'"Henrietta!" cried Bessie, aghast. "But you could not have done it;
Madame would never have allowed that!"
'"No, I do not know that I could have managed it; but I might have
tried. I fear I did wrong in making any promise, after all.
Remember, Bessie, this is a terribly important matter: it is the
beginning of a rebellion--of a civil war."
'"But, Henrietta," I asked, "won't your father join the Duke of
Monmouth, then? Bessie says she is sure her uncle will. Oh, how I
hope my father will, too! And, ah! poor Oliver, I know how he will
long to be off to the Duke's army, and how he will try to persuade
mamma that he is old enough." Henrietta smiled, and pulled my curls.
'"No, Francis, I hope your father will do no such thing; and I am
quite sure that mine will not. However, happen what may now, my
father, and the King, and everybody else too, knows what is going on,
and can take whatever course they please; so I am content. I can do
neither good nor harm in the matter now."
'"No," sighed Bessie: "if we were only men! But, as it is, we can do
nothing to help the Duke, nothing whatever, except to pray that the
right side may have the victory."
'"The right side," murmured Henrietta thoughtfully. "Yes, Bessie, we
can pray for the right side."
'Now that our tongues were free once more, Bessie and I were ready
enough to astonish the other girls with the history of our adventure
three days ago; and great was the excitement and interest with which
they listened to it.
'"_I_ knew there was something!" "So that was why you all three
vanished for such a long time?" "_I_ thought Bessie squeezed up her
lips unusually tight, as if she was afraid something was going to
escape them." "_I_ wondered why Frances had been looking so solemn
and important lately." Such were the exclamations with which our
story was greeted,--exclamations that rather hurt my feelings, and
Bessie's too, I think, for we had prided ourselves upon behaving
exactly the same as usual, and not looking in the least bit conscious
or mysterious.
'"I wonder what your father will do, Frances," said Agnes Blount,
"and Sir Harry, and poor Algernon too. Why, what will become of the
pages if the King and Queen are driven away? Alack! alack! I hope
he won't be beheaded, or anything dreadful happen to him!" This
startling idea had not struck me before. Poor Algernon! of course I
should not have liked him to be beheaded; though, at the same time,
it was a great comfort to think that it was he, and not Oliver, whose
neck might be in danger.
'"Nonsense, Agnes," I said, trying to speak very decidedly. "As if
they would behead a boy!"
'"Oh, but they would," put in Lucy Fordyce. "Prince Arthur was only
a boy, you know, and yet King John murdered him."
'"My dear Lucy, that was so very long ago. Besides Lord Desmond is
not heir to the Crown." There was something in that argument, as
Agnes allowed, still she did not seem quite satisfied.
'"No, but you see, Frances, he is one of the Queen's pages; and if
there really is going to be another civil war, perhaps they will
murder the King, as they did his father, and maybe the Queen too; and
then, of course, any one belonging to the court will be in great
danger. Oh Fan, supposing poor Algernon was to be killed, you would
be a widow, you know. Oh dear! oh dear! How shocking!" This last
recollection, added to her fears for Algernon, was too much for
Agnes. She gave one half-stifled sob and burst into tears.
'This made me feel very uncomfortable, and more really frightened on
Algernon's account than I had been at first; for it was such a new
thing to see Agnes cry--Agnes, generally so blyth and
sweet-tempered--that I began to fear that things must indeed be
getting serious. Poor Algernon! We had not been particularly good
friends that first and last time of our meeting, considering for what
purpose that meeting had been, nor had our parting been much taken to
heart by either of us; yet when I remembered his honest brown eyes,
and round, rosy, good-humoured face as he rushed about so happily
with my brothers, and then tried to imagine him with his curly head
upon the block, or dying, sword in hand, amongst a heap of
slaughtered pages, a sudden desire came over me to cry also.
"Fancy _you_ a widow!" repeated Agnes, with another dismal sob, as I
put my arm round her neck and tried to say something consoling.
'"Like Dr. Power's mother," suggested Lucy Fordyce, looking at me
with a sort of scared expression.
'I made an effort to fancy myself like Dr. Power's mother, and the
consequence was a violent fit of laughter, which checked my tears
completely, and dried up Agnes's too; for Mistress Tabitha Power was
eighty-five, and wore deep mourning robes which swept the ground, a
black hood drawn almost over her face, and always leaned upon an
ebony crutch with a silver handle. Then, when our laugh was over,
Agnes began to wonder again what side my father and Sir Harry
Mountfort would take in the coming war, if war there really was to
be. Mamma, I felt pretty sure, would be for the Duke of Monmouth,
because Dr. Power had said that the King would make Papists of us
all; and I knew that mamma was the stanchest of Protestants, and that
nothing on earth would be so abhorrent to her as the idea of having
her own religion or that of her children interfered with. As to my
father, I did not know what to think about him, but I had a vague
impression that Colonel Dare thought him likely to favour the Duke's
pretensions; and if Colonel Dare did not know, who did? Agnes was
rather doubtful about Sir Harry. She wished very much to believe
that he would take the same view of affairs as Madame St. Aubert and
Dr. Power, but could not avoid a misgiving that, whatever his own
opinions might be, the part which he eventually took would be decided
by Lady Mountfort.
'"And she is a strict Catholic, you know, Frances; and no ones loves
the King more than she does. I remember how she used to praise him
when he was Duke of York. Ah! she will never let Sir Harry stand up
against King James, and he always does everything she wishes."
'"Perhaps my father will persuade him," I suggested: "they are such
great friends, you know."
'"Ah! you don't know Lady Mountfort," returned Agnes despondingly.
She was quite a Monmouthite already, the only drawback being her
uneasiness for Algernon. In fact Dr. Power's eloquence had plunged
every one of us (Henrietta alone excepted) heart and soul into the
Duke's cause, which was not to be wondered at. What else, indeed,
was to be expected, considering how very little we knew about the
business, save what he chose to tell us? So we sat under the lime
tree all that pleasant sunny morning, making guesses as to what our
respective relations intended to do; and trying to persuade ourselves
that they, one and all, must, should, and would buckle on their
swords for our hero, the Duke of Monmouth.
'Madame invited us to sup with her that evening in the north parlour;
and a few of her particular friends were of the party--Dr. Power
amongst them, who was in tremendous spirits, and made another speech,
so brilliant that I thought it might almost have brought King James
himself to come quietly down from his throne and make a present of
his crown to his nephew. Yes, that was a delightful evening. We
danced, and sang madrigals, and played games, and, before we broke
up, drank Monmouth's health in a cup of that very choice canary which
was generally considered sacred to Dr. Power, and which Madame's
pupils had never aspired to partake of in their wildest dreams.
'Well, the time passed on, and little was talked of in the house but
the Duke of Monmouth and his prospects. Scraps of news came in from
time to time to feed our excitement, the bearer thereof being
generally Dr. Power. First we heard of a skirmish at Bridport, which
seemed to have been a somewhat confused and doubtful affair, in which
neither side had got much the best of it. Then we were shocked by
hearing that Colonel Dare was dead, shot in a quarrel with a Scotch
gentleman, one of Monmouth's followers. Dr. Power shook his head
very gravely when he told us this. It looked ill, he said, for the
discipline of the Duke's army and the unity of his officers, that
such an outrage should have taken place. However, the Duke had been
highly indignant, and had done the only thing that could be done
under the circumstances, and sent off the offending Scot, Colonel
Fletcher of Saltoun, to the Continent.
'"So there go two of his best officers already," quoth Dr. Power,
with a sigh; "and that's no trifling loss, let me tell you. Ah!
well, I always told Dare it would come to this. I have known him
from a boy, and he was always the same furious, hot-headed fellow.
Ah-h-h," and Dr. Power went away, whistling to be sure, as usual, but
the air he whistled was slow and plaintive, and his face a shade less
cheerful than it was wont to be. But the next time he made his
appearance he was brisk and light-hearted as ever; and well he might
be, considering what tidings he brought. Four thousand men of the
train-bands, under the Duke of Albemarle, had been arrayed near
Axminster, and were preparing to meet the invaders; but no sooner did
Monmouth's troops appear upon the scene than the train-bands
retreated in confusion, without waiting to strike a blow, and the
Duke--_our_ Duke--was marching in triumph towards Taunton. It was
Dr. Power's opinion that we might expect to see him that very
evening. You may fancy the effect of this announcement upon Madame
St. Aubert's household. The delight and excitement that reigned
there were quite indescribable. Even the scullions in the kitchen
were heard uttering distant hurrahs.
'The rest of the day was spent in bustle and preparation. The garden
was stripped of all its gayest and choicest flowers, and the usual
books, slates, and ink-stands which generally filled the schoolroom
gave way to bright heaps of roses, lilies, pansies, and carnations,
which were to be turned into wreaths and garlands before the evening.
Ah, how well I remember that day!--the laughter and chatter as we
worked at the wreaths, and the breathless interest with which we
watched them put up afterwards in festoons, over door, balcony, and
windows. All the gardens in Taunton must have been plundered, I
think, that morning, for, as we looked down the street, every house
seemed, like our own, to be absolutely glowing with flowers.
'It was nearly sunset when the sound of drum and fife, the ring of
steel, and the even tramp of many feet announced that Monmouth and
his army must be at hand; and never shall I forget the storm of
cheers that welcomed him as he came riding into the town. It seemed
to rise from every street in Taunton; and I suppose it was that I had
never heard so many voices together before, but the sound gave me a
curious, uncomfortable, half-frightened feeling, as if I must get out
of everybody's sight, and cry. However, this was quite out of the
question; the balcony where we stood being so much crowded, that it
was a hard matter to move one's arms enough to throw down the pinks
and roses with which our aprons were filled. The street was thickly
lined on each side with people in holiday dress, and all carrying
green boughs; and from every window and balcony handkerchiefs and
scarves were waving, and flowers were raining down. The Duke looked
up and bowed as he passed underneath our windows whereupon Madame St.
Aubert gasped out, "O mon roi! mon roi!" and burst into one of her
floods of tears; while Bessie, in the violence of her feeling, flung
away handkerchief and basket as well as her flowers, and was heard
afterwards anxiously questioning every one as to what could possibly
have become of them. "Was I not right, Frances? Is he not a noble,
gallant prince? Does he not look like a king?" demanded she
triumphantly, when the Duke and his white horse could no longer be
distinguished. And to this I agreed, with all my heart; as well I
might, considering how many older and wiser folks than I had been
completely carried away by Monmouth's handsome face and graceful
winning manner.
'"Oh Henrietta, if you would only have come out to see him, you would
have changed your mind!" Such was the assurance that all the girls
repeated over and over again, when Henrietta was hearing a detailed
account of the procession from beginning to end; for she had steadily
refused to help in the making of the wreaths or to join the party on
the balcony, and Madame was far too much pre-occupied to care whether
she came or stayed away. A shrug of the shoulders, and a
contemptuous "stiff-necked little fool!" was her only attempt at
remonstrance. So Henrietta quietly managed to keep out of the way
all the afternoon; and when the last man in the procession had passed
out of the street, we ran off to find her, and pour out a description
of the great sight we had seen, to the only person in the house who
had not been a witness of it. She was as much interested, and asked
as many questions as we could wish; but all our regrets that she had
missed the pageant, and all our protestations that she must have
changed her mind had she seen the Duke of Monmouth, only made her
smile and shake her head.
'"Indeed, Bessie," she said, "I quite believe that he is as handsome
and brave and gallant a gentleman as you say, but that is no proof
against what my father told me; and now I know that, I hope that
merely to look upon him would not make me change my mind. I suppose
a comely face and gentle bearing are not enough to give him a right
to the throne, nor to make him a good king, or a good soldier either."
'There was no denying this; nevertheless it made not the slightest
impression upon any of us. Madame St. Aubert and Dr. Power believed
in the Duke of Monmouth, and we were content to follow their lead.
He was our hero, for whom we vowed that we would willingly have laid
down our lives, and, at the time, we really fancied that we meant
what we said. Next morning, though the flowers had vanished from the
schoolroom, books and desks were not yet to be seen in their stead.
To-day the first thing that met our eyes as we entered the room was a
piece of sky-blue silk spread out upon the middle of the table, and
surrounded by innumerable skeins of gold and silver thread, and silks
in all the colours of the rainbow. These, Madame told us, were the
materials for a banner to be presented to the Duke before his
departure from Taunton--"presented by us, our very own selves," as
Lucy Fordyce said, clapping her hands with delight.
'"Whoever has a hand in the making of it shall walk in the
procession," said Madame, with a smile, as she drew the heap of silks
towards her and began to disentangle the skeins.
'We were all feeling rather dull after the intense excitement of the
day before, and the working of the banner seemed to be the very thing
we felt most inclined to do,--something that could really be done for
the Duke,--something that, by our efforts, we might make not unworthy
to be offered. These thoughts were enough to revive all our
enthusiasm, and to set us to work with an energy and perseverance
which, I am afraid, we had never been known before to display in
Madame St. Aubert's schoolroom. Pauline proceeded to draw out the
pattern, Bessie to sort the silks into heaps of the same colour, but
varying in shade; and the little ones were soon busy in winding
skeins and threading needles for the whole party. To my own great
joy, I was not classed among the "little ones" on the present
occasion. Mamma had taught me to embroider very well; and, much as I
hated it at home, I was glad to find, when I came to school, that
there was one thing at least which I could do better than Agnes
Blount,--better, indeed, than most of the girls much older than
myself. Henrietta was the only one whom I could not hope to rival;
and Henrietta would not help us. We dragged her into the room, and
made her admire the soft rich blue of the silk, and the glittering
gold and silver, with which it was to be ornamented, and from habit
she began to show Mary Seymour how to hold her hand so as not to soil
her work; but when she glanced over Pauline's shoulder and saw the
pattern that she was copying, she exclaimed, "Oh Pauline!" in a voice
of such disapproval and distress that we all looked up surprised.
'"Don't you think a lion and a unicorn will be pretty, Henrietta?" I
asked anxiously. "I wanted to have some beautiful gold lilies, like
those in that French book Madame showed us; but Bessie said that
would not do, because the Duke of Monmouth must have the arms of
England."
'"But he is to have a French motto," observed Lucy Fordyce. "And
such an easy one. I can translate it quite well: 'God and my Right.'
It is all to be written in gold letters. Don't you think it will
look very well?"
'"Oh yes, very well indeed," replied Henrietta, with a little smile
that seemed to make Bessie quite angry, for she said indignantly;
'"Well, Henrietta, and has he not the best right in the world to the
royal arms? Is he not our king already?"
'"Oh, certainly, if wearing our king's colours makes him so; and I
think he ought to be proud of having such a devoted subject. But,
Bessie dear, I see you have changed your favourite rose colour for
blue, which I have often heard you say does not suit you half so
well."
'Bessie looked vexed at this speech, and her cheeks flushed for a
minute; but then, glancing down at her blue breast-knot with a proud
smile, she said enthusiastically, almost defiantly, "I don't care if
you do laugh at me. It is the only thing I can do for him."
'"Ah! that is right! That is my own warm-hearted Bessie," cried
Pauline, who always expressed her feelings far more openly and
strongly than any of the rest of us. "I think it is very right and
noble of her to do it, and I would do just the same--only,
unfortunately, blue does suit me; so it is no sacrifice." And
darting an indignant look at Henrietta, she flew to Bessie's side and
bestowed an affectionate kiss on both her cheeks. Pauline's
demonstrative ways used to make us all feel rather embarrassed
sometimes; and Henrietta especially would become colder and more
reserved than ever when Pauline was "attendrie" or "emue," as she
expressed it. On the present occasion, however, her eyes twinkled
with fun when she saw that Pauline's hasty movement had swept our
beautiful banner down to the floor, while all the embroiderers had
stopped their work to stare at Bessie, and did not even make an
effort to save it.
'"Well, good-bye, Pauline," she said, turning to leave the room; "I
won't hinder your work any longer. Your hero's standard is trailing
in the dust, which is rather a bad omen; but it was not I that threw
it there." And Henrietta vanished, while the rest of the party
returned to their work with increased soberness and diligence, but
rather less talking than before.
We prospered very well after we had begun: we were all anxious to
show Henrietta what we could accomplish, even without her skilful
fingers to aid us. Moreover, Madame St. Aubert came to superintend;
and, after a time, when lion and unicorn were beginning to stand
forth in all their bravery from their gay background, carefully
balancing a glistening crown between their uplifted fore-paws, she
brought in Dr. Power to see and admire. He praised our needlework to
our hearts' content; but when he put on his spectacles to examine the
device, he looked almost as grave as Henrietta had done, and gave a
sort of subdued whistle of surprise. But Madame St. Aubert whispered
something in his ear which caused him to say, "Ah! well, I thought it
would come to that; but 'tis a pity--in my opinion 'tis a thousand
pities--that the Duke should allow such a decided step to be taken."
'Madame St. Aubert drew herself up as stiffly as if she was going to
hear Dr. Power the multiplication-table. "I have the best authority
for saying that the measure was recommended by his Grace's most
trusted advisers," replied she with dignity.
'Dr. Power looked as puzzled as though he had forgotten that twice
one made two, and rubbed his wig till it was quite crooked, before he
said, with an air of relief, "Well, Madame, the Scripture hath
declared that in the multitude of counsellors there is safety; and
so, I hope, it will prove on the present occasion. For myself, I
shall certainly be able to say with all my heart, 'God save our
King.'"
'I did not in the least understand what was meant by this
conversation; and when I pulled Bessie's sleeve and asked her, she
said she was not quite sure, and I must wait till to-morrow to know.
'I was not much wiser when the morrow came, and Bessie told me, with
a beaming face, that the Duke of Monmouth was going to be proclaimed
king in the market-place of Taunton. However, seeing that she looked
very glad, I tried to feel glad too, and succeeded completely, when
she informed me that, after the proclamation had taken place, our
banner was to be presented by the whole school in procession, as the
gift of the maids of Taunton.
'"And when--when is it to be, Bessie?" cried several voices.
'"Next Thursday, Madame says; so we have not too much time; but I'll
work my fingers to the bone rather than it should not be done."
'We were all of the same mind about this; and work we did, with an
energy that astonished even Madame St. Aubert, and that wore holes in
some of our thimbles, even if our fingers escaped safe and sound.
But were we not repaid for all our trouble on the morning, when
Bessie, the leader of a long procession, stood by the market-cross,
holding in her hand the staff from which floated our completed banner
in all its beauty, just fluttering enough in the wind to show gleams
of the red and gold, forming the scroll and tracery which adorned its
ample folds? What a crowd filled the market-place! and however one
pushed and struggled to catch a glimpse of Bessie, whose bright eyes
were brighter than usual, and whose colour came and went every moment
with excitement! "How pretty Bessie is!" I whispered to Agnes; "I
never knew she was pretty till to-day." "Hush! Hush! the Duke is
coming," was all Agnes had time to say, before such a cheer rang
through the market-place as I never heard in my life before. It
quite drowned the clatter of hoofs, as the Duke of Monmouth and his
train came riding through the throng of people, the Duke smiling and
bowing to every one as he passed, and having to take off his hat so
often, that at last he kept it in his hand, and rode on, bare-headed,
up to the market-cross, where he alighted, and, standing on the
steps, bowed once more, while the cheers rose higher and higher. And
now I thought the important time had come; but Bessie knew better,
and waited while one of the Duke's followers, very richly dressed,
blew a loud blast on a trumpet--to secure silence, I suppose--and
then read in a high, monotonous voice, from a strip of parchment
which he held in his hand, a proclamation, of which I could not catch
one word. It was only by standing on tip-toe that I could see what
was going on; and it was by keeping in this position, and holding
fast by Agnes Blount's arm, that I saw how, when the gentleman had
finished reading, he waved his hat in the air and shouted "God save
the King!" with all his might. It must have been every voice in
Taunton, I think, which joined the answering shout of "God save the
King! Long live Monmouth, the true heir to the throne! The
Protestant succession for ever! Down with the Papists!" I dropped
back into my former position, and left my hold on Agnes's shoulder,
not quite certain whether I felt most inclined to clap my hands and
cheer as Dr. Power was doing, or to stop my ears and sob
hysterically, like little Lucy Fordyce, who was quite scared at the
noise.
'"Hush, hush, Lucy! don't cry, chérie," whispered Pauline
consolingly. "There, it is all over now, Look at mamma: the Duke is
going to speak to her. Oh, mon Dieu, what a handsome man! what fire
in the eyes!" and Pauline, after good-naturedly putting Lucy into a
place where she could see what was going on, relapsed into silence,
only occasionally broken by murmured exclamations in French, when her
feelings became too much for her.
'Madame St. Aubert knelt on one knee before the Duke, kissed his
hand, and presented him with a Bible, splendidly bound in crimson and
gold.
'"Ah! qu'il a l'air noble et gracieux! C'est un vrai roi!" cried
Pauline below her breath, as the Duke took her mother's hand to raise
her from the ground, bowed profoundly over it, and said as he took
the gift she offered: "Madame, I have come to defend the truths
contained in this book, and to seal them, if so it must be, with my
blood."
'I heard these words quite distinctly, in the sudden silence which
had followed the cheers; but, after the Duke had finished speaking,
the noise grew more deafening than ever. A great many people were
sobbing, too, besides Lucy Fordyce, though it could not have been
with fright, like her, for they were quite grown-up.
'Dr. Power rubbed his hands together and said, "Right, right: those
are the best words that have been spoken yet," quite out loud. And
Eleanor Page whispered to Pauline, "I wish Henrietta was here: she
would be convinced now."
'And now, at a sign from Madame St. Aubert, the whole school began to
move forward, and we all fell into our proper places in the
procession. Bessie did not change colour now, nor falter in the
least, as she knelt before the Duke and gave the banner into his
hand, with the few words which had been arranged beforehand for her
to say: "Will your Grace deign to accept all we have to offer
you--the best work of our hands, with the best wishes of our hearts?"
[Illustration: BESSIE DID NOT CHANGE COLOUR NOW, NOR FALTER IN THE
LEAST, AS SHE KNELT BEFORE THE DUKE AND GAVE THE BANNER INTO HIS
HANDS.]
'"When you see these colours again, fair mistress," said the Duke, as
he clasped the staff in his hand, "I trust they will have waved over
a conquered field. We cannot but be victorious who fight under a
flag worked by so many fair hands, and accompanied by the wishes of
so many kind hearts. In the name of my followers as well as my own,
I thank you, and all people of the good town of Taunton, for their
faith in me and in my cause. I ask them to keep their faith only a
little longer, and it shall be justified. We are in arms for the
liberties of England, and for the Protestant religion, and therefore
can say, without the shadow of a doubt or scruple, 'May God defend
the right!'"
'Bessie's earnest "Amen" was repeated in a sort of shout by many
voices, for the Duke spoke in tones clear enough to be heard by all
around him. Dr. Power was just going to rub his hands again, but
changed his mind, and rubbed one eye instead--very hard indeed--and
then looked about him with such a triumphant smile, that I felt
exactly as if he was saying, "I told you so. Did I not use almost
these very words, young ladies? Let this be impressed upon your
minds till the latest hour of your lives." Certainly the impression
was made upon mine. I can recollect even now all that happened on
that day, down to the most trivial particulars, with a minuteness
that would satisfy even Dr. Power himself. But, anxious as he was
that it should be so, I am quite sure that he never dreamed what
terrible reason we should all have for remembering that twentieth of
June to the latest hour of our lives.