THE MAIDS OF TAUNTON (CONTINUED).
The next day we watched the Duke of Monmouth's troops march out of
Taunton on their way to Bridgewater. File after file of soldiers
passed under our eyes, and yet there were more behind.
'"Thousands and thousands of them!" Camilla Fanshawe said, with a
look of awe. "How can anybody doubt that the Duke will get back his
rights, and win the crown which belonged to him, with such an army as
that to fight his battles?"
'And yet we all agreed that its leader looked very melancholy.
Though "Long live King Monmouth!" was echoing all down the street as
he passed, he did not smile, but merely bowed mechanically, without
caring to glance up at the faces which filled every window and
balcony on both sides of the way.
'"Why does he look like that?" said Camilla, quite disappointed, like
the rest of us, at the change which had come over the Duke since
yesterday.
'"Perhaps he is sorry to leave Taunton," suggested Agnes. "You know
every one seems to like him so much here, and maybe they will not in
other places."
'"Perhaps he is thinking how many of the men who are marching with
him now may never come back to Taunton," said Eleanor Page gravely.
'Henrietta sighed, and turned away from the window; and though the
rest of us stayed there till the last strain of music died away in
the distance, and the last straggler of the rabble who followed the
army had vanished from our sight, yet it was with very sober faces
that we gazed, for this was the first time that we really began to
think what must be some of the consequences of the scene we had
witnessed yesterday.
'"Will they fight a battle, and all be killed?" asked Lucy Fordyce
anxiously.
'Nobody answered. But I am sure that we were all thinking the same
thing, and were wondering how long it would be before we should hear
news of the men who had just marched away from before our eyes,
leaving the streets of Taunton to look duller and emptier than they
had ever done before.
'We did not hear anything at all for about a week, and then only that
the Duke had been well received at Bridgewater--that he had marched
from there to Glastonbury, Wells, Bristol, and other places whose
names I forgot as soon as I heard them. After this, reports became
extremely vague. "The Duke was marching straight for London," we
were told, "with the King's army flying before him;" but this was
immediately contradicted by some one who knew (on the best authority)
that the Duke was making his way through Worcestershire towards
Shropshire and Cheshire, in order to collect his friends in those
counties; after which we heard that he had won a decisive victory at
Philips Norton, and then that there had been no battle at all there.
By the time the great news really came, which brought back all our
excitement and interest in a rush, most of the younger girls, and
certainly myself among the number, were getting very tired of the
perpetual discussions about the Duke and his prospects which went on
among our elders.
'"We cannot do anything; so what is the use of talking about it?"
Camilla said. And I secretly agreed with her, though my affection
for Bessie generally kept me at her side during play-hours, in spite
of the fact that she talked of nothing but this one subject, which
was becoming, to my mind, a very stale one indeed.
'One morning I was standing by the window in our bedroom doing
nothing, though I had been sent there to learn a lesson, given me as
a punishment for inattention. I looked at my book for about five
minutes, and then relapsed into a day-dream about Oliver and Hebe,
which was broken by my hearing a noise in the street. Of course I
went to the window to see what it meant, and to my astonishment
beheld quite a crowd collected in front of our house,--among them
Madame St. Aubert herself, whom I had left a quarter of an hour ago
in the schoolroom reading aloud a book of French history to the elder
girls. She was talking very fast and eagerly, and once wrung her
hands with a sort of impatient despair, which convinced me that
something dreadful was the matter. What could have happened? I was
just thinking of venturing down-stairs, at the risk of a scolding,
when I heard footsteps hurriedly approaching, and Bessie, looking
white and terrified, entered the room.
'"Oh, Frances!" she cried as I sprang towards her. "Such news!--such
miserable news! All is over with the cause now. There is nothing
more to hope for." And Bessie sank into a chair and burst into a
flood of tears.
'"But how do you know? What has happened? Has there been a battle?
Is the Duke of Monmouth killed?" All these questions I hurried out
at once, standing bewildered in the middle of the floor, staring at
Bessie, who at last raised her head and went on with her story.
'"Job Tallis has come back." (Job Tallis was Madame St. Aubert's
gardener, and was one of the many young men who had joined the Duke's
standard while he was at Taunton.) "There has been a dreadful battle
at a place called Sedgemoor, close to Bridgewater. The Duke's men
fought like lions, Job says; but it was all of no use. They were
outnumbered--their ammunition failed them--their cavalry were
scattered by the first shot: that must have been Lord Grey's fault."
And Bessie stopped to give a little stamp with her foot, and to wipe
her eyes, as she said this: "Oh, if I was but a man? But there, that
is nonsense. It was at night, and there was such a fog that it was
impossible to see a dozen yards in front of you. They fought till
after daybreak,--till Feversham's artillery broke their ranks to
pieces--till they were literally ridden down by his cavalry."
'"And the Duke?" I asked, beginning to tremble, for Bessie's
excitement was infectious. She shook her head.
'"Job knows nothing about him. He saw him last on foot, encouraging
his men, and was close to him for a little while; but he was struck
down by a pike (Job, I mean), and knew nothing more till the fight
was over, and then he was almost taken prisoner, Oh! he has had a
great many escapes and adventures; but I could not stay to hear about
them, I wanted to come up here out of everybody's way."
'"But, Bessie, I don't understand what will become of the Duke if he
is alive. Will he collect a great many more men and fight another
battle? And if he is taken prisoner, what will they do to him? Will
they----"
'"Don't, Frances," and Bessie covered her face with her hands and
shuddered. "I don't know anything. It is too horrible to think
about. Oh, he must escape! Perhaps he is in hiding somewhere;
perhaps he has reached a seaport already, and is safe on board ship."
'I could not get much more from Bessie, who presently begged me to
leave her alone; so I stole down-stairs and joined the rest of the
household, who were every one of them assembled in the kitchen
listening to Job Tallis's account of his own exploits, and of the
utter ruin which had overtaken the Duke's forces, in spite of the
valour of his army in general, and of the men of Taunton in
particular. Nor was his the only evidence we had of the fight.
Fugitives kept coming into the town, one after another, all that
afternoon, and they all told the same story. Only, of the Duke
nothing certain was known, except that he had not fallen upon the
field of battle. Ah! well. We heard quite soon enough. From that
day began a time when every morning brought us in bad news,--dreadful
stories of the sufferings of the wounded men, or of the cruelties
practised on their prisoners by the victorious soldiers.
'People were not so particular then as they are now about keeping
children away from all that is shocking or horrible; and I remember
standing, open-mouthed, listening to stories repeated by the
servants, the elder girls, ay, and by Madame St. Aubert
herself,--stories of such atrocities as it would make you ill to
think about, and which I would not relate to you for the world. To
be sure, it would not have been of much use keeping us in ignorance
of what was going on, for in a few days' time Taunton itself was the
scene of some of the worst horrors,--horrors so appalling that even
the Duke of Monmouth's fate, when we came to hear of it, only gave us
a momentary shock of pity and regret. You have read all about it in
your books of history: you know that the Duke of Monmouth was
"convicted of high treason, and executed on Tower Hill, in the
thirty-seventh year of his age;" and that "those concerned in his
rebellion were tried and sentenced by Judge Jeffreys, noted for
severity in the execution of his office;" but you just think of it as
something which takes up half a page of Mangnall's Questions, which
must be learnt and said in a given time. You do not realize--how
should you?--what it was to live in the midst of these things as I
did--to have the events which make up the history of the time
happening outside your very door--to be obliged even to take a part
in them yourself. But I must go on with my story more regularly, or
I shall never be able to make you understand the order in which
everything took place.
'After hearing all the particulars which could be gleaned of the
fight at Sedgemoor, of course we were wild to know something about
the leaders of the thousand men who lay dead on the field of battle.
Bessie, especially, was so eager about it, that she would run out
into the street to question every fresh arrival from
Bridgewater--whether it were a group of worn-out runaways, or a body
of King James's soldiers in pursuit of the same. She got her news at
last, and came in, crying, to tell us how Lord Grey had been captured
on the border of the New Forest, disguised as a peasant; and how the
Duke had been found soon after, hidden under some fern and brambles,
famished with hunger, and so altered that he could hardly be
recognised.
'"And who told you all this?" inquired Madame St. Aubert, who had
been much shut up in her own room of late with Mrs. Fortescue, and
was not aware of Bessie's little expeditions in search of information.
'"It was one of Colonel Kirke's officers, Madame," said Bessie, who
knew she had been doing what was entirely contrary to all known
rules; but who trusted to the "bouleversement" of Madame's ideas, and
to the general disorder which prevailed in the school just then, to
save herself from the scolding which she knew she richly deserved.
'"And pray, Mademoiselle Bessie, what business had you to be talking
to Colonel Kirke's officers?" demanded Madame in her most freezing
tone.
'"I would not have done it at any other time, indeed, Madame, but I
was so anxious to hear some news of our poor Duke. The gentleman was
very civil, and answered all my questions; but I did not like him
much, though he asked me where I lived, and said he should do himself
the honour of----"
'But Bessie was not allowed to finish her sentence, for Madame St.
Aubert advanced a step or two, gave her a sound box on the ear, and
then, to our great surprise, sank back in a chair and went into
hysterics. Her "bouleversement" of ideas had taken a different turn
from what we expected. Not that the box on the ear astonished us so
very much. Madame had been known to bestow the like before, under
circumstances of great provocation,--but that she should go into
hysterics afterwards, this was remarkable indeed; and we stood
looking at her in awe-struck silence till she recovered enough to
speak. I suppose the knowledge that so many pairs of eyes were upon
her, helped to restore her composure. At any rate, it was not long
before she rose from her seat with great dignity (Madame always was
particularly dignified after losing her temper), and requested Bessie
to follow her out of the room. "As for you, young ladies," she said,
turning round upon us as she reached the door, "let me beg that there
may be no more of this unseemly curiosity about what does not concern
you. You will hear quite enough about the Duke, without babbling
about his affairs to everybody. Do you hear? From this day forth I
forbid his name to be mentioned in my house, under pain of my severe
displeasure." With these words Madame sailed out of the room, and
remained invisible for the rest of the day.
'She left, however, a very rebellious set of pupils behind her. It
was not so easy to stop all interest in our hero as it had been to
arouse our enthusiasm for him. Many were the murmurs we indulged in,
and the hard names we called Madame St. Aubert for being "so
mean-spirited as to desert the Duke in the hour of his misfortune."
'This phrase was Bessie's, and we all admired it extremely. She came
back from her private interview in a state of wrathful indignation,
in which we all shared. "Madame St. Aubert," she said, "was a
coward; and, now that the Duke of Monmouth's cause was lost, wanted
to turn against him like the rest of the world, and to deny that she
had ever befriended him. As if the Government would dream of
meddling with her for what she had done! The Government had other
things to think of. Don't you think so, Henrietta?" she concluded
with a sudden change of voice, as if Madame St. Aubert had succeeded
in frightening her a little in spite of her high tone.
'"I don't know about that," said Henrietta in her slow, considering
way. "At any rate, it is as well to be prudent, Bess, or you might
be getting other people into trouble without doing the Duke of
Monmouth any good. You remember what we saw yesterday?"
'There was a moment's silence, as we remembered with a pang the
wretched faces of a long line of prisoners, chained two and two, whom
we had seen marching into Taunton between files of Colonel Kirke's
soldiers. Colonel Kirke was in command of King James's troops now,
since General Feversham had been sent for to London, and had entered
Taunton with a large body of men the day before.
'"But, Henrietta," said Eleanor Page in rather a tremulous voice,
"that was quite different: those poor men had been fighting for the
Duke, and they were taken prisoners on the field of battle. Madame
can't be afraid of anything of that sort happening to her."
'"Of course not," said Mary Seymour lightly; "Henrietta is such a
croaker. For my part, I thought she would be delighted to hear of
the Duke's misfortunes; she was always talking against him when he
was here."
'Henrietta flushed up at this, and was just opening her mouth to
answer, when Ph[oe]be Morris, one of the servant girls, rushed into
the room, wringing her hands, crying and sobbing, in such a state of
distraction that we could hardly make out what she said.
'"Oh Mistress Henrietta! Oh young ladies, where is Madame? Oh! get
her to come and speak a word for him. Oh my poor Job Tallis: they've
taken him away between them--two of those wicked soldiers; and he'll
be hanged--I know he will; and all because they found his pike behind
the kitchen door, with the blue ribbons on it I tied there a
fortnight ago. Oh, what a fool I was not to hide it under the faggot
stack when he brought it home!"
'"Hanged, Ph[oe]be! he can't surely be hanged for following the Duke.
Why, they must hang every man in Taunton if they hang him: they all
did the same thing. And that is impossible."
'"Oh, but they will, Mistress Bessie," persisted Ph[oe]be. "That
Colonel Kirke is a wicked, wicked man. They have got a gallows in
front of the White Hart Inn, and there were three strapping young
fellows hung there this morning. You can see it if you like to come
up-stairs to my bedroom window."
'But none of us took advantage of this offer, and Ph[oe]be, with her
apron at her eyes, went away to tell her story to Madame St. Aubert;
while we sat huddled together in the schoolroom for the rest of the
day, talking in whispers, and making wild conjectures as to what
would happen next.
'What a long, dreary evening it was! For once in our lives, we
younger ones were glad when bed-time came--though, to be sure, Lucy
Fordyce was seized with a crying fit; and I, for the first time in my
life woke up, screaming, in the middle of the night, being quite
convinced that I heard the soldiers coming upstairs to take me away.
Perhaps I really did hear some one moving about; for the next morning
neither Madame St. Aubert nor Pauline, who slept in her mother's
room, appeared at breakfast. Mrs. Fortescue read prayers; and when
the looks of astonishment and inquiry directed towards their empty
places became too numerous to be borne any longer in silence, she
told us that Madame St. Aubert had thought it best, both for her own
safety and that of her pupils, to leave England for a short time. On
account of the unsettled state of the country, it was necessary that
the journey should be performed as quickly and secretly as possible,
which was the reason why she had not been able to bid us farewell.
But Pauline had left many affectionate messages for us all, and had
said we were to wish her and her mother a safe journey, and speedy
return.
'"As to yourselves, young ladies," Mrs. Fortescue went on, "you need
not be in any fear for your own safety. Colonel Kirke does not
imprison children; and if he did, you would be in no danger, for you
have done nothing to deserve it. It is important that Madame St.
Aubert should arrive safely in France; and therefore I am sure that I
can trust you all to be silent and discreet on the subject of her
journey, and on all other matters connected with this--ahem--this
unfortunate business. I wish everything to go on as if she was here;
so, after breakfast, you will be pleased to get your books, and we
will continue our studies as usual."
'The conclusion of this speech was so remarkably commonplace, and
Mrs. Fortescue so entirely everyday and matter-of-fact, as she sat at
the head of the table pouring out mugs of milk and water, that our
confidence was a good deal restored; and when the milk and water and
thick slices of bread and butter had quite disappeared, we set about
our tasks almost cheerfully--I, for one, glad to have something to do
which might help me, for a time at least, to forget the dreadful
things which could be seen out of Ph[oe]be's bedroom window.
'Not a word did Mrs. Fortescue ever say about Madame St. Aubert's
sudden journey; but a rumour came round to us through Mary Seymour,
who heard it from Molly the cook (who must, I fear, have listened at
the keyhole), that Mrs. Fortescue had done all she could to persuade
Madame to stay--had told her that her flight would bring suspicion on
the whole house--and that, moreover, it was her duty to remain and
protect the girls under her charge. Mrs. Fortescue had flatly
refused to go herself; and therefore it was clear, as Molly said,
that there was "a deal more stuff in her than in that Frenchified
woman, for all her stiffness and stand-off manners." These very
manners had caused Mrs. Fortescue to be anything but a favourite with
us hitherto. We looked upon her only in the light of a person whom
it was impossible to satisfy with a half-learnt lesson, and who could
be very cross if we were inattentive or careless, or made mistakes
about things which we knew quite well. But now, during the days of
suspense and terror which followed close on Madame's departure, we
learnt to like her better than we had ever done before. She treated
us less like children, and yet was kinder to us when we behaved
childishly. She went on with her own work, managing the house, and
hearing the lessons, as if the cruelties of Colonel Kirke and his men
were of no more recent date than those mentioned in the history of
the Maccabees. And yet she comforted and soothed us when we sobbed
and shivered over the dreadful stories poor Ph[oe]be was constantly
bringing in, so patiently and gently that we hardly knew her for the
same Mrs. Fortescue who used to scold if we made a single false
stitch in our samplers, and rap our knuckles if we cried over our
sums.
'A day or two after Madame St. Aubert's disappearance, Dr. Power came
to see us. He came in the evening, with a carter's frock thrown over
his black clothes, and a round hat pulled low on his forehead, so as
partly to conceal his wig. He was a suspected man, he said, and did
not wish to bring suspicion on our house too, by being seen to visit
it. He was very much surprised indeed to find that Madame St. Aubert
was gone. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders when
Mrs. Fortescue told him this, with an expression which we took to
indicate the most unqualified contempt; though I think now that there
was mixed with it some show of admiration for her cleverness in
having managed her escape so promptly and successfully.
'"Well!" he said at last, "if Madame thought flight was necessary, it
was well she accomplished it when she did. I hear that Colonel
Kirke's outposts are more numerous and vigilant than ever; and I
suspect that he has been reprimanded by the authorities at Whitehall
for his system of stringing up the rank and file of the Duke's
followers--who, poor souls, have not a penny to buy their lives
with--and allowing richer folk to purchase a free pass to some
seaport town. I am no great friend to the King, as you know, Mrs.
Fortescue,"--here Dr. Power lowered his voice almost to a
whisper,---"but I cannot believe that he approves of these military
executions. They are shameful, abominable, illegal. It makes me
sick to see them going on without the power to lift a finger to save
one of the poor creatures,--young men that I have christened, and
catechized, and married perhaps! And all for doing what they were
told was a just and righteous thing. There'll be a reckoning for all
this some time; but it is my belief that Colonel Kirke will get his
deserts in this world, and I hope I may live to see the day!"
'Dr. Power walked up and down the room in a state of great agitation,
which gradually calmed down when he saw how we were all staring at
him in frightened silence.
'"I crave your pardon, ladies," he said, "for such an outbreak; but
it is enough to make one's blood boil in one's veins to see such
wholesale slaughter."
'Then he told us that more than a thousand people belonging to
Taunton, suspected of having assisted the Duke of Monmouth, had been
arrested and thrown into prison, where they would remain, awaiting
their trial, until the beginning of the next assizes. He begged Mrs.
Fortescue to be very careful to avoid all suspicion of having
favoured the Duke, and to keep her young ladies within the precincts
of the house and garden; for they would only see horrible sights if
they went further. And, moreover, it was best to keep as quiet as
possible while Colonel Kirke was in Taunton.
'Then the kind old Doctor bade us good-bye, and went sadly away,
after carefully arranging his disguise, which, I remember, struck me
at the time as being more likely to attract attention than to divert
it--the effect, on the whole, being so very unnatural and peculiar.
The next day we heard that he had been arrested. Well, I must not
dwell any longer on that dreary time, for I have still much to tell.
Bad as those days were, there were still worse to come, as we very
soon found, when the terrible Judge Jeffreys arrived in Taunton. We
had heard of his cruel deeds at Winchester--of the terrible fate of
poor Dame Alice Lisle, sentenced to death for granting a hiding-place
in her house to some of the rebels; and now he had come to hold the
assizes here, in the very same town with us. I remember Mrs.
Fortescue's look when the news came that he was actually in Taunton.
Every tinge of colour faded out of her face,--out of her lips
even,--and I thought she was going to faint; but she recovered
herself, and tried to be more cheerful than usual for the rest of the
day. Still that did not blind us. We could see clearly enough how
uneasy she really was; and indeed I think all our hearts sank from
the moment we heard those tidings; for, as Henrietta said, with a
foreboding shudder, "If he could condemn an old gentlewoman like Dame
Alice Lisle to be burnt, only for hiding a rebel, no fault could be
small enough for him to spare."
'"Ay; and no punishment too cruel for his hard heart," cried Bessie
passionately--"nobody insignificant enough to be passed over. Madame
St. Aubert did well to escape so soon. I would we were all with her."
'From the depths of our hearts we echoed Bessie's wish; and with only
too good reason, as you will very soon see.
'The next morning, before we were more than half dressed, a
succession of thundering knocks at the hall door, and sundry violent
peals of the bell, brought all our toilets to a sudden standstill.
There was a moment's startled silence in the room; then a burst of
exclamations, and a rush to the window, from which nothing was to be
seen except a few ragged boys standing about near our gate.
Presently there was a murmur of strange voices in the house, and
after a while a ringing scream from Ph[oe]be on the stairs. The next
minute we heard her rush into the room where the elder girls slept,
and, with one consent, we followed her there.
'"Do speak, Ph[oe]be! for Heaven's sake, tell us what is the matter,"
Bessie was saying, with an impatient stamp, as we entered; but
"Alack, alack, alack!" was Ph[oe]be's only answer, as she leaned
against the door-post, gasping and sobbing, and wringing her hands,
until Henrietta silently offered her some water; after drinking which
she became a little more coherent.
'"Oh, well-day! poor dear ladies! Lord have mercy upon us! They've
come at last, as I've always feared they would, ever since Madame
went away."
'We looked at one another in dumb horror.
'"They've come!" repeated Henrietta slowly. "And whom do they want,
Ph[oe]be? What do they say?"
'"Oh, they want Madame, to be sure, and Mistress Pauline--only,
they're gone. And now we are all arrested. I heard them say
so--Madame Fortescue, and all of you, arrested in the King's name.
Good-lack! good-lack! We shall all be hanged, and burnt, and made
slaves, and what not. I knew how it would be when that wicked,
murdering knave, Judge Jeffreys, came to Taunton. Poor dear young
ladies! where shall we all be this time to-morrow?"
'Of course this question could only be answered by a chorus of sobs,
lamentations, and exclamations of all kinds, in the midst of which in
came Mrs. Fortescue, pale and grave as she had always been of late,
but with something in her face that looked almost more like
indignation than fear. Her presence quieted us directly; and we
listened to her, and obeyed her in trembling silence, when she told
us to finish our dressing as quickly as possible, for that there was
a gentleman down-stairs who wished to put some questions to us. She
stayed in the elder girls' room for a few moments after we left it,
and then we heard her go down-stairs, followed by the still weeping
Ph[oe]be.
'"Silly wench," Mrs. Fortescue was saying as they passed our door,
"what need is there for you to fret yourself in this way? You are
safe enough. Would we were all in such small peril!"
'The words rang in my ears. We really were, then, in some great
danger. It had not proceeded from Ph[oe]be's frightened imagination.
I clung to Bessie's side, when, having made ourselves ready, we at
length proceeded, slowly and reluctantly, downstairs, and whispered
to her imploringly to tell me what Mrs. Fortescue had said after we
younger girls had been sent back to our own room.
'"Ph[oe]be was right," she answered in a low, scared tone. "Two of
the sheriff's officers have come, and we are all put under arrest for
having aided and abetted the Duke of Monmouth, they said, They spoke
very roughly to Mrs. Fortescue. She scarcely knows what to fear.
Perhaps----" But here Bessie broke off with a nervous start; for as
we reached the foot of the stairs the door of the north parlour
opened, and Mrs. Fortescue beckoned us in. I thought, as I crept in
behind Bessie, of that fatal day when Pauline had told us of the
mysterious, ill-favoured stranger closeted with her mother in this
very room. There were two strange men there this morning--one
decidedly ill-favoured, and both highly unprepossessing.
'One of the two was in the dress of a sheriff's officer; the other a
spare, mean-looking little man, in a suit of rusty black. This man
did not even rise from his seat as we entered. His companion had the
grace to make a sort of swaggering bow before he asked Bessie, the
tallest and eldest-looking amongst us, "whether she would be pleased
to tell him her name." Poor Bessie! "Elizabeth Davenant" was spoken
in such very low, tremulous tones that she was obliged to repeat it;
whereupon he smiled complacently, murmuring, "Ay, even so," while the
man in black noted it down on his tablets. This proceeding struck me
with much awe; but think, what was my horror when I heard the next
question: "And which is the Countess of Desmond?" Most unwillingly I
was pushed forward by Mary Seymour, and immediately my name was
inscribed upon the tablets, the sheriff's officer remarking
meanwhile, "Sooth to say, she is a mighty little lady." How well I
remember the pang of mortification which these words gave me even
then, when I was absolutely quaking with fright. He turned next to
Eleanor Page, and then to Henrietta, and so on, till all our names
had been noted down by the little man with the tablets.
'"And these are all of the pupils, madam?" demanded the sheriff's man
(Master Noakes his companion called him) of Mrs. Fortescue.
'"These are all," she repeated mechanically.
'"Very good, very good," Master Noakes proceeded, as with his back
against the wall, and his arms folded, he surveyed us all critically.
"And now, ladies, mayhap you'll be good enough to answer a few
questions that I'm going to put to you; and look you, I must have the
truth, and nothing more or less. You won't find it easy to hoodwink
me, I warrant."
'These insolent words, and the threatening manner in which they were
spoken, made some of us grow white with terror, while others reddened
with indignation. I saw Henrietta's hand clench involuntarily, and
she bit her lip till it bled.
'"Now, Mrs. Elizabeth Davenant," Master Noakes continued, "you can't
deny that you and all your schoolmates here presented a silk banner
to that notorious rebel and traitor the late Duke of Monmouth, when
he proclaimed himself king here on the twentieth of June last."
'"I have no wish to deny it, sir," replied Bessie, plucking up her
courage a little in her anger and offended pride. "It was I myself
who gave the banner into the Duke's hand."
'"But on behalf of you all? These ladies were all with you?"
'"Yes, all; that is, except Mistress Sidney."
'"And you all helped to deck out the house with flowers and garlands
the day that the Duke made his first entry into Taunton?"
'"All but Mistress Sidney, who would have nought to do with it."
'Master Noakes stared at Henrietta, and then smiled disagreeably, and
winked at his friend.
'"And pray, which among you worked this fine banner of yours?" was
his next question.
'I suppose I did not quite realize the danger of our position even
then, for I remember feeling more elated than frightened as I stepped
forward with the seven other girls, all older than myself, who had
joined in the embroidery of the banner.
'"What! My Lady Desmond too?" remarked this detestable man in his
bold, familiar way. "Can your little ladyship really do such dainty
handiwork?"
'"Yes, indeed, sir!" was my prompt and indignant reply. "I worked
more than half the unicorn." Whereupon Master Noakes laughed, and
Mrs. Fortescue gave a quick, uneasy glance towards me, as if somewhat
anxious to hear what more I might be going to communicate. But
Master Noakes asked no more of me just then. After putting one or
two questions to some of the other girls, he turned to Mrs.
Fortescue, saying:
'"Then, madam, as I notified to you just now, I am commanded to
arrest yourself and all these ladies in the King's name. A guard
will be placed in the house, and no member of the household will
leave it until the King's pleasure be further known."
'Mrs. Fortescue only bent her head in reply to this speech; but I
fancied that there was a look of relief in her face, as if she had
expected something worse. We all stood in dead silence for some
moments, hardly daring even to look at one another. Ph[oe]be's news
had been only too true. We were all prisoners--prisoners in our own
house! And what the King's pleasure would be with regard to our
further disposal I longed to ask, but dared not. But the worst had
not come, after all. The little man in black broke the silence first
by rising and counselling Master Noakes to go on and make an end of
the affair as speedily as possible, as he had work enough before him,
and could afford to waste no more time. I thought that making an end
of the affair must mean than they were going to take their departure,
and leave us to the care of the aforesaid guard, the idea of which
frightened me very much. But no; they were not going away. The
worst had not come, after all. Master Noakes's next words made my
heart beat so fast, that I thought I should be choked.
'"I have a graver charge yet to bring forward," he said in a much
more peremptory tone than he had used hitherto. "Mistress Davenant,
Mistress Sidney, and my little Lady Countess here, can you deny that
you knew of Monmouth's treasonable schemes full three days before he
landed at Lyme, and that you sent money to him through his agent,
Colonel Dare?"
'No one answered. Bessie tried to speak, but her voice died away
into a whisper; and she could only cast an imploring, frightened
glance at Mrs. Fortescue, who, resolved to make one last effort on
behalf of her pupils, came forward and said in a tone of intense
earnestness:
'"Once more, sir, let me remind you that these poor children cannot
be answerable for the part they took in this matter. Whatever they
have done, if not by Madame St. Aubert's express desire, was at least
with her permission. You see what children, what mere babes, some of
them are. What can such as they do for good or for ill in such high
matters? It were surely the most cruel, shameful injustice----"
'"I pray you, madam, to hold your peace, and let them speak for
themselves," interrupted Master Noakes, waving his hand
authoritatively.
'"Let me at least say this much," persisted Mrs. Fortescue, not
daunted by his rough words and imperious manner: "Mistress Henrietta
Sidney neither gave money to Colonel Dare, nor had aught to do with
the decorations, or the banner; and as to her knowledge of the Duke's
coming, it was by simple chance that----"
'"No matter--no matter," quoth Master Noakes, cutting her short
again. "She shall tell her own tale, I say. Now then, mistress,"
and he beckoned imperiously to Henrietta. "You heard what I said.
Come, speak out, yea or nay?"
'"I did know of the Duke of Monmouth's plot full three days before he
landed," she began firmly, after a moment's hesitation, "but I did
not----"
'"Pshaw! no 'buts;' we can't wait for 'buts.' You admit that you did
know; that's quite enough." Then he repeated his question to Bessie
and me, and the little man with the tablets jotted down our answers
as before, looking at us at the same time with a grim, half-amused,
half-contemptuous smile, which was more disagreeable than I can
describe. A strange chill of fear crept over me when I had whispered
"yes" to Master Noakes's query. For the first time I saw that the
danger coming upon us was very real and very near, and that there was
no one to save us from it. I shall never forget how cold and sick
with terror I felt for the next few minutes. It was a sensation that
I had never known before. Bessie's answer was firm and frank--given
in one of her impulsive bursts of courage; and she made a vigorous
attempt to show Henrietta's innocence, and to take upon herself all
blame for my share in what Master Noakes called "these treasonable
doings;" but she was silenced as summarily as Mrs. Fortescue, and
Henrietta herself, had been. And then at last we heard our
fate--part of our fate at least: we were to be taken to prison; to
jail!--and what would come afterwards we dreaded to imagine. It was
for Judge Jeffreys to decide that,--Judge Jeffreys, of whom lately we
had not been able even to think without hatred and horror. This
sentence overwhelmed us all three. I burst into tears, and Bessie,
after struggling for a moment to control herself, did likewise.
Henrietta shed no tears: she made some incoherent, half-choked
exclamation, and then stood quite silent; while the colour faded
slowly out of her face, and she trembled so much that she was obliged
to lean against the wall. Again Mrs. Fortescue tried to speak for
us, doing her best to keep back the bitter indignation that was
expressed plainly enough in her countenance. But in vain she forced
herself to be calm and moderate, and to remonstrate as gently as
possible against the cruelty of shutting up young girls of our age
and rank in the common jail of Taunton. In vain she implored that,
if we must go, she might be allowed to go with us; and, when that was
refused, tried to secure a promise that at least we should be placed
in a room by ourselves. The terrible fever known to be raging in the
jail at this time was, she pleaded, reason enough for this--to say
nothing of the sort of companions among whom we were likely to be
thrown in such a place. But not the slightest effect did these
arguments seem to have upon the two agents of Judge Jeffreys. They
flatly refused to give the promise for which she begged so earnestly;
and as to allowing her to accompany us, that was quite out of the
question. She must stay to superintend her own imprisoned household,
until it was settled what was to become of them. After that, her
wish to see the inside of a jail might, doubtless, be complied with.
Then they urged us to make ready for departure, without more loss of
time; and Mrs. Fortescue, seeing that remonstrance was utterly
useless, and in fact only likely to make matters worse, led the way
out of the room, silently motioning to us to follow her--some crying
audibly, some clinging together, hardly venturing to exchange remarks
in half-stifled whispers, but all darting back nervous, anxious
glances to see if Master Noakes was keeping a close and watchful eye
on our movements. Yes, there he was close behind us; but, to our
intense relief, he came no further than the first landing-place, and
there took up his station, contenting himself with shouting, now a
remark to his friend at the foot of the stairs, now an injunction to
us in the room above to bestir ourselves about our preparations, or
he would come and pack up our baggage himself. Oh, what a relief it
was to shut the doors, and feel that at length we might speak without
every word we uttered being noted down; and what a scene of confusion
began now we were no longer under restraint. Bessie gave way
entirely the instant she found herself in her own room. She threw
herself upon the bed, and cried and sobbed so passionately that I
felt almost appalled. This only was wanted to set flowing the tears
of a good many more among us,--of Agnes Blount among the rest, who
clung round my neck, weeping as if her heart would break. I had
never before known how much we cared for each other. Meanwhile,
moving about quietly amidst the buzz of voices, unmoved and
unhindered by the girls who chattered, the girls who cried, and the
girls who did nothing but stand in the way, Mrs. Fortescue, with the
help of Henrietta and one or two more, collected the few necessaries
that we were to take to our new quarters, and put them up together in
the smallest possible compass; then, this business completed, she
turned her attention to us. And we certainly were in need of it; for
by this time Agnes's grief had infected me, and I was in almost as
deplorable a condition as Bessie. Henrietta still kept her
self-command, but she did not make any attempt to comfort us.
Perhaps it was her intense shyness and reserve that stood in the way,
perhaps it was the fear of breaking down herself--I do not know
which; but all she did was to pause in her operations, and cast a
wistful look towards me now and then, as if she were longing to
speak, but dared not. Oh, how I longed for mamma at that moment! It
seemed to me that I had never missed her before as I did now--no, not
on that dismal day of my first coming to school. Poor mamma! had she
any idea, I wondered, of the great trouble into which her unlucky
little daughter had fallen.
'You see, the penny postage had not even been dreamed of in those
days; and such a great event as the arrival of a letter had only
happened to me twice since my arrival at Madame St. Aubert's. The
last epistle had been written just after Sedgemoor; and my mother,
little suspecting how my fortunes would be affected by that
disastrous battle, called it "that most happy and thank-worthy
dispensation of Providence," and bade me rejoice that the King's
enemies were scattered, and the arch-rebel Monmouth safe in the
Tower. And I had written an answer to that letter, but Madame St.
Aubert had forbidden me to say anything about the Bible and the
banner; or indeed to make any allusion to the part which she and her
pupils had taken in the Duke's reception at Taunton.
'"During the disturbed state of the country," Madame said, "there was
no knowing what might become of the letter, so it was as well to be
as guarded as possible."
'When I thought of these things, I felt quite in despair about my
story ever coming to mamma's ears, while my longing for her became
more intense every minute. Presently Mrs. Fortescue's cool, firm
hand was laid on my forehead, and then my arm was round her, and my
burning, tearful eyes hidden upon her shoulder.
'"Poor little maid," she said compassionately, "I would I could send
you safe back again to your mother. But, please God, you will see
her before very long. So cheer up, child; you have nothing serious
to fear--only a little hardship and discomfort for a few days, and
then you will go home, and all will be well. They can't do any hurt
to children of your age. All they want is a fine from your
parents,--a heavy one, doubtless; but yours are wealthy enough to pay
it, so you need have no fear. Poor Bessie yonder," continued Mrs.
Fortescue, lowering her voice, "has most cause to be affrighted of
any of you."
'"Oh madam, why?" I asked, looking up suddenly into her face, which
was turned with an anxious, pitying expression towards the bed where
Bessie still lay quivering with sobs.
'"She has not rich parents, child, like you and Henrietta: she had
only her uncle to care for her, and he is in London under sentence of
death, and all his property confiscated. Hush! do not tell her now;
she will know it soon enough, poor child. I only learned it myself
this morning; and I tell you that you may see how Bessie wants
comfort yet more than yourself."
'"Yes indeed, madam," I whispered, and I dried my eyes resolutely,
and tried my best to feel fearless and defiant of Judge Jeffreys and
all his terrors. "But oh, madam," I could not help saying from the
depths of my heart, "if they would but let you come with us."
'And then these words were scarcely out of my mouth when I felt
inclined to laugh; for the thought struck me that a few weeks ago I
could not have believed it possible that any one should really wish
for Mrs. Fortescue's company who had the chance of being without it.
Perhaps Mrs. Fortescue was thinking the same thing, for a sudden
smile lit up her face for a moment; but the next it was sad and
anxious as ever, and she said earnestly: "I would I might go with
you, sweetheart, only that perhaps I am as much needed here. We are
all prisoners, you know--not so much better off than you, after all.
There!"--as another impatient summons from Master Noakes was heard
from the staircase--"we must not linger any more now. God be with
you, child. Don't be down-hearted; you have naught to blame yourself
for in this matter. Say your prayers, and do your duty, and He will
deliver you from evil."
'I suppose it was Mrs. Fortescue's manner more than her words that
gave her so much influence over us all. We had always looked upon
her as a person to be respected and obeyed; but ever since Madame's
disappearance, she had been more than this. There was so much more
softness and gentleness about her, and yet at the same time so much
strength and spirit, that gave one a feeling of having some one to
lean upon as long as she was with us. Her words had done me good;
and seeing that it was so, she bade me make ready for departure with
as much speed as possible, and then left me, to do what she could for
poor Bessie's consolation. What she said, I did not know. I only
saw her bend over the bed, and whisper for a moment or two; and then,
impetuous and sudden as usual, Bessie sprang up and threw her arms
round Mrs. Fortescue's neck with no more ceremony than if it had been
mine. Just then came another of Master Noakes's resounding shouts,
which were beginning to follow one another at shorter and shorter
intervals, becoming every time louder and more peremptory. Mrs.
Fortescue returned the kiss; and then, quietly unclasping Bessie's
arms, began to twist up her pretty fair hair, which was in the
wildest state of disorder possible. I think I never saw hair so
nearly golden as Bessie's, nor did I ever see any with such a
propensity for tumbling down. Ten minutes was the utmost length of
time that those golden locks of hers had been known to keep smooth
and in their place,--even Pauline's skill had failed in achieving
more than this; and as for Mrs. Fortescue's hurried attempts to
arrange them, the result would have sent us into fits of laughter at
any other time: but just now nothing was a laughing matter.
'All was ready at last, and Mrs. Fortescue was trying to cut the
numerous farewells as short as possible, and to impress upon the
other girls that they were on no account to follow us down-stairs,
when all last words were suddenly and effectually broken off by the
tramp of heavy footsteps in the passage, and the sound of Master
Noakes's voice actually close to the door.
'"Not a minute more will I tarry, ladies; so, if your baggage is not
ready, you must e'en come without it. D'ye hear?"
'Mrs. Fortescue quietly opened the door, and, in her very haughtiest
and most coldly polite manner, motioned him towards the staircase,
saying that we were all ready to start whenever it might be his
pleasure to do so, and suggesting that he should lead the way
down-stairs. I hardly know what passed after that. An odd sort of
vague, dreamy feeling came over me as if I was walking in my sleep,
or as if I was not myself. A most uncomfortable sensation it was,
like nothing I had ever felt before; and though I suppose it must
have been brought on by fright, yet somehow I was less conscious of
fear than at first. I began to fancy that perhaps, after all, it was
only a dream, and that I should wake up presently and find that there
had never been a rebellion at all, and that everything was going on
as usual again. I was still in this curious kind of dreamy state
when I left Madame St. Aubert's house, never to enter it again.
'I remember hearing Mrs. Fortescue beg that we might be allowed to
wait for some breakfast. It had never entered my head till then that
we had eaten nothing that morning--indeed I do not think any of us
remembered it; and when Master Noakes refused, I believe the only
person who really cared was Mrs. Fortescue. I did not feel hungry at
all, only dull and stunned, and almost indifferent. I did not cry
now when Mrs. Fortescue kissed me, though Bessie was half choked with
her uncontrollable sobs; and for the first time I saw Henrietta's
eyes swimming.
'She answered with a silent nod to Mrs. Fortescue's last hurried
whisper, "Take care of them, Henrietta. I trust to you." And when
the door had closed on Mrs. Fortescue, and we were actually in the
conveyance provided by Master Noakes and his friend the notary, still
that strange sense of being in a dream could not be shaken off. I
gazed out at the well-known streets as we drove through the town, and
tried to realize that we were indeed being carried to a prison; and
then I looked at Bessie's tearful face opposite, and wondered at
myself for feeling so apathetic. We drew up at last before a large,
gloomy brick building, which I had seen only once before, and had
looked upon with great awe and interest as "the jail," little
dreaming then that the time was near when I myself should be entering
those heavy iron gates, and lodging behind one of those dismal grated
windows. The man who opened the door led us into a long dreary room,
that looked almost empty, the only furniture being a table littered
over with papers and parchments, and one or two wooden benches. Then
Master Noakes, after talking with the man aside for a few minutes,
and pulling out a paper (the order for our arrest, I suppose),
announced that he was going to wait on the governor; and forthwith
marched out of the room. We were left meanwhile under the charge of
the little notary, who took not the slightest notice of us, but
amused himself by sitting upon the table and examining carefully
every one of the documents that were lying there.
'One or two words I had caught that had passed between Master Noakes
and the porter--something about "no space, and the jail being as full
as it would hold already;" and I fancied that perhaps they might not
be able to take us in, after all, and that we should be sent back to
Mrs. Fortescue. If it had not been for the presence of the notary, I
should have asked Bessie or Henrietta; but there seemed a kind of
spell upon me while I watched him sitting so silently upon the table,
turning over the papers with such absorbing interest. So I said
nothing, and sat leaning my head upon Henrietta's shoulder until I
really think I should have fallen asleep, had not Master Noakes
suddenly made his appearance again, bringing with him the governor of
the jail. He was a worn, sharp-featured, and by no means
good-humoured-looking person, and yet somehow I did not dislike his
face. Not that he seemed to pity us in the least: he only stared at
us with a perplexed, annoyed kind of look, and then said in a
fretful, injured tone, as if he alone was the ill-used person:
'"So ill-considered to bring them here just now! when I scarcely know
how to bestow those who are already here. His worship should have
some reason in his commands. I tell you, sir, that the place is
packed to overflowing as it is; and what with the fever too, 'tis
enough to drive a man almost out of his wits."
'"That is no business of mine," replied the notary, getting off the
table to salute the governor. "The order for the arrest of these
young ladies is signed, as you see, by the Lord Chief-Justice
himself. You won't care to go against that, I fancy."
'"But the house is to be guarded too, you say: why cannot they remain
there?"
'The notary drew his companion away from our end of the room, and
whispered in his ear. I could only catch the words "wealthy
parents," which I remembered because I had heard Mrs. Fortescue use
the same expression; and then he added in rather a louder tone:
"Colonel Dare openly boasted that he was in communication with
members of families of distinction residing in Taunton, even before
the landing of the Duke of Monmouth. It has been proved that
Elizabeth Davenant, Henrietta Sidney, and Frances Countess of Desmond
were among the number. They supplied him with money, and were privy
to the secret of the Duke's intended landing, three days before it
took place. The rest of Madame St. Aubert's pupils are only accused
of working and presenting a banner, as you doubtless remember."
"I remember the fact of the banner being presented," was the reply.
"But what became of the governess?"
'"She passed Kirke's outposts by means of a bribe, and got safe off
to France," replied this dreadful little notary, who appeared to know
everything. "She escaped just in time too; for 'twas only the day
after, that orders came down from London that no exceptions were to
be made to the rule of arresting suspected persons. And not too soon
either: Kirke was getting very lax. The law should be allowed to
take its just course, sir, without all these exceptions and
relaxations."
'"The law will have plenty to do here, then," said the governor in
the same peevish tone of voice he had used before. "Three hundred
prisoners here already; and to ask me to take in more! Well, I
cannot gainsay your order, sir; but if these be ladies of quality,
they will scarce relish the company I shall be forced to give them."
'"Prisoners must not expect good company," said the notary, glancing
at us carelessly. "As long as you have them in safe keeping, his
lordship will be satisfied. Master Noakes, it is time we were going.
I wish you a good morning, sir; and the same to you, ladies." And,
saluting us with something between a touch of the hat and a nod,
Master Noakes and his companion strode out of the room.
'I was so much relieved to see them disappear, and to hear the
ponderous door close after them, that my spirits rose again
considerably; and in spite of the presence of the governor I ventured
to whisper, "Oh Bessie, I am so hungry; couldn't you ask if we might
have some breakfast?"
'The governor did not make any objection, though he looked as if
Bessie was asking a great favour when she made the request in rather
a trembling voice. I thought him what I called "cross," but I really
believe now he was as kind to us as he dared to be, and kinder than
prison rule permitted. He took us to his wife, who made us very
comfortable, gave us plenty to eat, and petted me so much that I
began to cry when the turnkey arrived to take us away from her. All
my fright came back at the sight of his face and the sound of his
jingling keys. "Why can't we stay here, madam?" I sobbed, taking
fast hold of my new friend's gown. "I shouldn't mind being in
prison, if we might. We would promise not to run away; and you might
lock the door whenever you went out of the room. I don't want to see
any more strange people; let me stay with you."
'"My poor little maid, I wish I could keep you," she said, kissing
me. "But it is impossible. I should only be bringing you and all of
us into trouble. I have kept you over long as it is, I am afraid."
So saying, she thrust a cake into my hand, patted me on the shoulder,
and pushed me gently towards Bessie, who put her arm round me, and
led me from the room. I went on crying all the time we were
following the turnkey through many long, dark stone passages, up
steps and down steps, round corners and past closed doors, from
behind which echoed noises, which caused us to quicken our steps to a
run till we were safe out of hearing. At last our guide stopped
before one of these, and began turning over his bunch to find the
right key.
'"Oh, not there!" exclaimed Bessie in dismay; for the sounds of loud
talking, shrill laughter, quarrelling, and swearing came to our ears
so plainly, that even Henrietta looked frightened, and Bessie covered
her ears with her hands to shut out the noise.
'"This is the women's ward," said the turnkey as he fitted one of his
keys into the lock. "And here you will have to stay until your case
comes on for trial."
'"If we could have a room to ourselves!" began Henrietta imploringly,
pulling out her purse as she spoke. (She was the only one of us who
had been sensible enough to bring one.)
'"'Tis impossible, mistress," said the jailer--"for to-night, at
least. Well," as she put some money into his hand, "perhaps
to-morrow there may be a room vacant. Folk don't stay very long here
in these days." He gave a kind of ghastly grin as he spoke; and
Henrietta turned suddenly away from him, looking quite white and
sick. Then the heavy door began to creak on its hinges, and
presently we found ourselves face to face with our fellow-prisoners.
The noisy tongues stopped the moment the door was opened, and all
heads were turned to look at us. Very confusing we found it to be
stared at by so many pairs of eager eyes at once. The room, large as
it was, seemed to me, at the first glance, to be quite full of
people. There were women of all ages there--from eighteen to
eighty--and of all ranks, too, apparently; for though most of them
were rough, hard-featured, and bold-looking, there were some who were
evidently ladies, and who seemed nearly as ill at ease as we felt
ourselves to be. But there were no children, and a murmur of
compassion ran through the crowd when they saw me. I suppose I did
look very dismal; for my face was covered with tears, and I held
Bessie with a sort of desperate clutch, as if she was my only
protection, and our new abode a den of wild beasts. When the turnkey
had shut the door behind us and gone away, a chorus of exclamations
and questions was showered down upon us, which had the effect of
frightening me more than ever, until I discovered that they were all
of a friendly nature; and, in fact, that every one seemed to pity me
nearly as much as I pitied myself. "Poor child! What a babe to be
here! What has she done?" "One of my Lord Jeffrey's arrests, of
course." "'Tis a cruel shame. She can't be more than ten years old."
'"What's your name, my little mistress?" asked several voices; and in
spite of my fright I managed to sob out: "Frances Dalrymple--I mean
Cary; and I was eleven last birthday."
'This piece of information was received with a burst of laughter,
which quite checked my desire for making any more confidences; and I
left Henrietta and Bessie to answer all the numerous questions which
followed. Quite a little crowd collected round us to hear our story;
and every one was loud in expressing indignation at the injustice of
our arrest. But their sympathy alarmed me almost as much as
everything else about them. They called the Lord Jeffreys such
dreadful names. One woman swore, and clenched her fist whenever she
mentioned him; and they became so excited and talked so loud when
they began telling their own misfortunes, that I was glad when they
got tired of talking to us, and one by one sauntered off to join
other groups, and we were left in our corner unmolested. What a
long, dreary morning that was! The only break in its monotony was
the arrival of dinner, when we sat amidst a long row of our
companions at the great deal table, and were served with bowls of
greasy, watery broth, in which little bits of mutton were floating
about. I was not at all hungry, but I was nevertheless both
surprised and horrified when my next neighbour plunged her spoon into
my bowl, and carried off the greater part of my meat. What remained
looked less inviting than ever; so I begged her to take it all if she
liked, and I ate the cake the governor's wife had given me instead.
The girl looked slightly ashamed of herself when she saw Henrietta's
eyes fixed upon her from the other side of the table, and turning to
me, asked if I had had enough to eat. I said, "Yes, thank you," very
politely. I was so afraid of her, that I think I should have said
"yes" at any rate. But when I looked at her thin, pale face, I did
not grudge her my dinner in the least, she looked so starved and
miserable.
'"I thought you looked as if you did not care for it," she said.
"When you have been here as long as I have, you will learn to take
what is put before you the minute you get it, and be glad enough of
it too."
'I could not help wondering whether I should also learn to take what
was put before other people. But of course I did not dare to say so,
and she went on in a tone of apology:
'"I'm just getting well of the fever. That's what makes me so
hungry, I suppose. I never do get enough to eat here."
'"Were you very ill?" I ventured to ask, feeling rather sorry that I
had eaten my cake so quickly.
"Yes; I believe so. I don't remember much about it. They told me I
nearly died. There was one in the next bed to me that did."
'Bessie, who sat on the other side of me, gave a little start as she
heard these words; but she did not say anything, and the girl went on.
'"I wished then that I had died too. I should have been out of this
place then; but somehow I got better and better, and to-day I have
come in here for the first time."
'"How long have you been in prison?" I asked, getting quite
interested.
'"Ever since two days after the Battle of Sedgemoor."
'"Oh, how dreadful! And why?"
'"Because I gave the Duke of Monmouth a loaf of bread when he changed
his clothes at my father's house, and bade God speed him," she
replied. "And the next day the soldiers came looking for him, and
father let it all out. So they took us both away, and brought me
here; and what became of father I don't know to this day. I have
never seen him since."
'By this time I had quite forgiven the loss of my dinner, and was not
at all surprised when Bessie leant across me, with tears in her eyes,
to say:
'"Oh, I'm so glad you did that! How proud you must feel of it. I
would have given anything to have helped the Duke so."
'"It did him no good, poor gentleman," said the girl. "He was found,
for all the pains we took to disguise him; and the King had him
beheaded. Ah! well. I felt very sorry when I heard it first; for he
was a kind gentleman, and a well-favoured. But I don't care now. He
has brought so much trouble on us all, that I almost feel to hate
him."
'"But he did not know. How could he guess that there would be all
these dreadful executions? The King is responsible for them, not
he," said Bessie, eager as ever in defence of her hero. "Besides he
was fighting for his rights. Oh, I wish I had been able to do
something for him!"
'"Don't talk to me of his rights!" said the girl fiercely. "If it
had not been for him, I should have been at home and happy at this
day; and so would you, and many another poor creature. Besides, what
are his rights compared to all our lives, I should like to know?"
'"But surely, surely," cried I, "they can't punish you very much for
merely giving him a loaf of bread?"
'"You don't know what you are talking of," she replied gloomily.
"Haven't you heard enough about Judge Jeffreys since he has been in
Taunton, to know that there is no punishment too hard for him to
give, unless he is well paid to be merciful. You are ladies of
quality: you will get off well enough, I warrant me; but I come of
poor folk, and there is no greater crime than that in his eyes."
'I thought of what Mrs. Fortescue had said, and a chill crept over
me. I sat quite silent all the rest of dinner-time, conjuring up all
the dreadful stories I had heard from Ph[oe]be of Judge Jeffreys'
cruelties. I thought of the men and women he had pilloried and
flogged; of the twenty-nine men who were executed at Dorchester in a
single day; of Mrs. Gaunt; of Lady Lisle; and of many another story
too horrible to repeat to you, until I felt quite sick with fright.
"What could be done to save Bessie from the hands of this wicked
man?" I pondered vainly for some time; but suddenly a bright idea
struck me, which I resolved to confide to Henrietta the moment dinner
was over. I did not want Bessie to hear; so I felt rather glad that
she went on talking to the pale girl, and allowed me to slip from her
side after dinner without taking any notice. Then I pulled Henrietta
away into a corner of the room, and poured out all my fears. That
they were but too well founded, I saw directly from her face. She,
too, had heard what Mrs. Fortescue told me of the fate of poor Sir
Geoffrey Davenant. Bessie stood in real, terrible peril; there was
no doubt about it. Henrietta trembled all over when she said this,
but she begged me not to let Bessie know.
'"She must be saved," said Henrietta in a quick, agitated tone. "I
don't know how; but, in some way or other, it shall be done."
'"Don't you think, Henrietta," I said, keeping my voice steady with
great difficulty, "that if my father and mother are as rich as
everybody says they are, they could pay the ransom for Bessie as well
as for me? I could write and tell them all about it, and----"
'"Yes, to be sure. What a good thought, Frances! What was I about,
not to think of it before? I'll write to my father too. Perhaps
between them they might manage. They might petition the King. We
won't despair. There are many worse off than we are, child."
'"Where shall we get paper and pens and ink?" I said, longing to
begin, but casting a despairing glance round the room which was bare
of any furniture but the table, and a couple of long benches on
either side of it.
'"I have got them all in my trunk. Mrs. Fortescue thought of that,"
replied Henrietta. "She never forgets anything, I believe."
'It was a great comfort to have something to do. My fears for Bessie
did not make me quite so unhappy when I was telling mamma all about
them. Writing home made me feel less lonely; and, besides, there was
the hope (I tried hard to think the certainty) that an answer to my
petition would set all our misgivings at rest, and prove that my
father was able and willing to pay any amount of money rather than
that a hair of Bessie's head should be injured.
'Thus the afternoon slipped away much more quickly than the morning
had done. Writing a letter was a serious business, and absorbed all
our attention. Even Henrietta, who was considered one of the most
accomplished of Madame St. Aubert's young ladies, proceeded very
slowly, and paused a long time when she had to spell a difficult
word; while, as for my epistle, it was so disfigured by blots, tears,
bad writing, and mistakes, that I began to have grave doubts, as I
went down, whether mamma would be able to read it. Then I had to
consider what I had better say to interest my father in Bessie's
case. I was so afraid of him, that I doubt if anything short of
Bessie's danger would have made me bold enough to ask him a favour;
but I would have done anything for her, and so I laboured away till
my fingers were soaked with ink, and my head ached with composing
sentences that should be as respectful as mamma could think
necessary, and at the same time as urgent as I could make them.
'Bessie came to see what we were doing after a time, and said
mournfully that her writing to her uncle was of no use, for she did
not know where he was. She had never heard a word from him since the
Battle of Sedgemoor. I was so afraid that she would see what I had
written about poor Sir Geoffrey, that I put my arm on my letter,
while I drew Bessie down to give her an affectionate kiss, and in
consequence made the blots ten times worse. Then I laughed
hysterically; and if it had not been for the example set me by
Henrietta's grave face, I should have revealed the whole truth then
and there.
'"How do you mean to send the letter?" asked Bessie, when she had
comforted me for the blots by the assurance that mamma would not care.
'"I shall give them to the jailer next time I see him," replied
Henrietta, "and beg him to give them into the keeping of the first
letter-carrier that rides from Taunton. I think he will do it,
especially if I give him a little money. He was not nearly so rough
with us as that dreadful Master Noakes."
'"Don't let any one see you, then," said Bessie, lowering her voice.
"That girl I was talking to but a moment ago, told me there are some
women here who will never rest till they get every farthing of your
money, if you let them find out that you have any. They bribe the
jailer to get them drink whenever they can scrape a little money
together, and then the noise they make is fearful."
'Bessie glanced, as she spoke, to the further end of the room, where
sat a group of those women who had frightened us so much in the
morning by their loud voices and reckless language. They were
playing cards with a very greasy pack, and had done little else but
quarrel over their game ever since dinner. The noise they made was
distracting enough now, and what it would be when they were excited
by drink we trembled to imagine. Alas! we knew only too well before
the evening was over; for though Henrietta's purse remained safe
hidden in her bosom, the prisoners found some other means of getting
what they wanted, and the scene which ensued is beyond my power to
describe. I do not suppose any of us were as fastidious as you would
be now. For a gentleman to drink more wine than was good for him,
was so sadly common in those days, that we had all seen instances of
it in our own homes or amongst our father's guests; but the revel
which was held in that wretched room was unlike anything we had ever
seen before. We could only cower into a corner and try to remain
blind and deaf to the shouts, the songs, the fighting, and
quarrelling that were going on around us, and which continued, it
seemed to me, hour after hour, until sleep overpowered the most noisy
of the revellers, and they sank down, one after another, on the heaps
of straw, which were their only beds. Silence reigned again, broken
only by the deep snores which announced that our dreaded companions
would alarm us no longer. The rest of the prisoners soon followed
their example; and we were left the only wakeful ones, talking in
frightened whispers, and not daring to move from our cramped
position, lest we should rouse some of those still shapeless figures
which lay ranged around the floor. How strange it was to sit there
in the dim light watching the shadows grow blacker as the moon rose
and peeped in at the high, narrow window. Bessie's golden hair
looked pale and unnatural as the cold, white light fell upon it; and
I hardly knew the pale, grave face for the same as the merry, bright
one I loved so well. Yes, that night was indeed a miserable one.
Even now it makes me quite melancholy whenever I think of it. I
remember falling repeatedly into a kind of half-doze, and waking with
a violent start each time from the same dream. I thought Master
Noakes was trying to push me down-stairs. I did at last fall into a
restless, uncomfortable sleep for a few hours, but all the time I
never seemed quite to forget where I was; and when I woke at dawn, it
was with a consciousness of something terrible hanging over me,
though I could not at first distinctly recall what it was. So I
raised my head from Henrietta's lap (it was on Bessie's I had gone to
sleep), and looked round the great dismal room. Everything rushed
back into my mind in a moment then: all the painful events of the day
before--the past trouble and fear, and, what was yet worse, the dread
of what might be to come. Henrietta was awake: she was sitting
upright, supporting herself against the stone wall, and looking
miserably white and tired, as if she had not slept the whole night.
'"Why Henrietta?" I began.
'"Hush! don't disturb her;" and she pointed to Bessie, who was lying
with her head resting on one arm. "She is sleeping more quietly now,
but for a long time she moaned and muttered, and tossed about so
restlessly, that I was quite frightened. I was obliged to move your
head on to my knee, for fear she should wake you."
'"But, Henrietta," I whispered, "have not you been asleep at all
yourself?"
'"Oh yes; I believe I slept for a little while, until Bessie woke me
by muttering in such a strange way. I am afraid she must be ill.
Look at her cheek, how flushed it is now."
'It was indeed burning with a scarlet, unnatural flush, quite unlike
her own soft, pink colour, which always reminded one of the petals of
a wood anemone. Suddenly, as I looked at her, came into my mind what
Mrs. Fortescue had said about the terrible fever at the jail, and the
fear of infection; and I thought of that poor girl who was just
recovering from it, and to whom Bessie and I had talked so much at
dinner the day before. Somehow, the very serious risk that we ran
had never struck me until this moment; but now that I did realize it,
a perfect panic of fear began to overwhelm me.
'"Oh Henrietta!" I cried, springing to my feet. "She is going to
have the fever. I know she is. Oh poor, poor Bessie! Perhaps she
will die; and we shall all catch it, and die too. Oh mamma! I must
go home to mamma. I cannot stay in this horrible place any longer;"
and then I clung to Henrietta's neck, and sobbed in a kind of
helpless, wretched way, feeling utterly unable to stop myself.
"'Hush! hush! sweetheart: think of Bessie," she whispered
imploringly. "And the others too; they would be so angry if we woke
them."
'But I was too far gone to control myself; and seeing this, Henrietta
made no further attempt to check my sobs, but held me in her arms,
and let me smother them on her shoulder. Bessie still slept on, in
spite of my sudden outburst, and none of our fellow-prisoners gave
any sign of being awake.
'"Frances," said Henrietta gently, after a little while, when I began
to be somewhat calmer, "we must not forget our prayers, must we,
though we are in such a place as this? Don't you think we might say
them now, while it is all quiet, and there is no one to interrupt us?"
'She spoke with a sort of shyness and hesitation, as if it was an
effort to talk of such a subject even to me, child as I was, and in
the dim light of early morning. "If you please," I murmured; and we
knelt and said the Lord's Prayer softly together, and then part of
the Litany: "In all time of our tribulation, in all time of our
wealth, in the hour of death, and in the day of judgment, good Lord
deliver us!" It was the first time that I had ever said that passage
with all my heart.
'When we had finished, I glanced at Henrietta's face, and there was
something in her eyes, as they met mine, which made me, with a sudden
impulse, give her such a kiss as I would have given Bessie.
'"I think you will not be so unhappy now, will you, dear Fan?" she
said, returning it warmly, and stroking my hair; and I answered
earnestly, "No, indeed;" for the mere effort of trying to repeat the
well-known words that I had been used to say reverently night and
morning, ever since I could remember, had soothed my paroxysm of
grief and fright, and reminded me that our Father in Heaven was
caring for us still, and that, under His protection, we might "dwell
safely, and be quiet from fear of evil."
'"He will deliver us," murmured Henrietta, "sooner or later; so we
will not frighten ourselves by looking forward to what may happen.
We will make up our minds to hope for the best; shall we? You know
the jailer half promised to give us a room to ourselves to-day. Oh,
what a boon that would be!"
'This hope made me feel quite cheerful; and we sat talking in
under-tones about our letters, and the possibility of persuading the
jailer to forward them, until the sleepers around us began, one after
another, to awake, roused by the returning sunbeams, which were now
lighting up the room.
'It was not until all the rest were up and moving about--by no means
noiselessly--that Bessie at last awoke. She had continued to sleep
heavily--nothing seeming to disturb her in the least degree--until an
old woman, with a particularly shrill, not to say cracked voice,
struck up the old cavalier song of "The King shall enjoy his own
again," which she elaborated with various trills, turns, and
quaverings; and then at length poor Bessie gave a startled cry and
sprang to her feet, almost before she had opened her eyes. She was
quite well, she said, except for a little headache, but it was easy
to see that it was by no means such a little one; and when the
breakfast of somewhat watery porridge and dry bread made its
appearance, she turned away with a shudder, declaring that she would
starve rather than touch a mouthful. The morning passed away much as
the day before had done. By Henrietta's wise suggestion we had made
our toilets, as well as we could under the circumstances, before our
companions had roused themselves enough to take any notice of us; but
when Bessie began to plait her hair, and opened the trunk to take out
our little mirror, a regular crowd was round her in a minute. It was
just like our poultry-yard at home when mamma went out with her apron
full of corn. The mirror was very soon taken out of her hands, and
seemed to have but a small chance of returning to them. I suppose we
must have been the only people in the room who possessed such a
treasure; for it brought about so much pushing and jostling, and even
fighting, among the women to whom Bessie had yielded it, that at last
it was cracked right across, after which they became more quarrelsome
than ever. Meanwhile some amused themselves by diving into our
unfortunate little trunk, until every one of its contents had been
pulled out and examined. One or two women interfered on our behalf,
but this only made the wrangling worse; and Henrietta and I looked on
in helpless dismay, while Bessie went on braiding her pretty golden
locks in a sort of dull, indifferent way, as if she felt too languid
to care either for the loss of her mirror, or the ransacking of her
chest.
'But suddenly, in the midst of the commotion, there was a sound which
silenced all the tongues in a moment, and made our eyes turn towards
the door. There was a grating of the bolts, and a rattling of the
key in the lock, and yet it was not nearly time for dinner. Was it
only some new prisoner, or was it a summons, coming to one of
ourselves, to the bar of the terrible Lord Chief-Justice? I remember
quite well the intensely painful look of expectation upon all the
faces round the room when the door opened, and the various murmurs of
surprise, relief, and pity that sounded in our ears when we three
were called upon to follow the turnkey.
'"So soon! the latest comers of all! Ay! well. May we never see
them back again; that's the best luck I can wish them!"
'"Nay, neighbour, there are worse places than this, evil though it
be," said the musical old woman; and the words made me shiver.
'"I wish you well through your troubles, my little lady," said the
girl with whom I had made friends the day before. She had been
collecting those little possessions of ours that had been strewn
about the floor; and now she was helping us to arrange the hoods and
mantles, which, by counsel of the turnkey, we were hastily throwing
on. "I will try and take care of your goods there," she said,
glancing towards the trunk; and then, as I thanked her, she bent down
and added in a hurried whisper: "I was awake this morning when you
were saying your prayers; it made me think of my own again. Tell
her" (and she nodded to Henrietta). "Fare ye well: and God bless you
all."
'I did not shrink from her now as I might have done an hour ago. In
my present terror I had forgotten all about the fever; but, ah! how
sick at heart I felt when I heard the door close, and knew that we
were really on our way to a court of justice--that in a few minutes
more we should be in the presence of the merciless Judge Jeffreys!
And when we actually stood in the court itself, and above the hum of
many voices all around us the tones of some one declaiming in hoarse,
fierce accents reached us from an open doorway, a cold agony of
horror came over me, that was positive pain. I leaned against
Henrietta and gasped with fright.
'"Courage, sweetheart," she whispered. "Indeed you have no need for
all this fear. He cannot do anything so very terrible to you. If he
does say a few rough words, they will very soon be over. Surely you
are brave enough to bear that. Think what much worse things some
people have suffered, and how bravely too!" Her voice was so steady
and cheerful, and she looked down into my face with such a bright
reassuring smile, that I felt for a moment a little bit relieved.
What I should have done without her during those wretched moments of
waiting, I cannot say. I thought afterwards that I should almost
have died with terror then, if it had not been for the sense of
comfort that it gave me to feel her hand clasping mine, and her arm
round my waist.
'Fond as I was of Bessie, I had never had the same feeling of
confidence and protection when I was with her that Henrietta's
presence had begun to give me.
'Poor Bessie! I had scarcely looked at her since we left the prison,
so much had my fears absorbed me. I was not, like Henrietta, strong
and brave and unselfish enough to think of other people in the midst
of our anxiety; and we had been waiting some time in that crowded
ante-room, before I bethought myself of looking to see how she was
faring. Then, greatly to my astonishment, I saw that she was
speaking to some one among the throng of prisoners awaiting their
trial, and at the next glance I recognised her acquaintance as no
other than our good old vicar, Dr. Power. His face, as he turned to
greet us, looked sadly changed,--no longer ruddy, and beaming with
mirth and good-humour, but mournful and haggard, and full ten years
older than when we had seen him last.
'"Poor children! poor children!" he muttered. "It grieves me to the
soul to see you here. A babe like thee, too. Shame, shame on them!"
he went on, looking compassionately at my tearful, frightened face.
"But take courage, little maid. It can be but a matter of a few
thousand pounds or so, to set you free again."
'"Ay, for her--for both of them," murmured Bessie. "But, oh! Dr.
Power, tell me the truth," and she spoke in a hurried, terrified
whisper, grasping his gown in her earnestness. "_I_ cannot pay a
fine, you know--I have only my uncle; and he is gone, no one knows
whither. What will they do to me? You will tell me the truth, won't
you? What will they--what can they do?" she repeated piteously,
looking up at him with an imploring, eager, almost wild, expression
in her blue eyes. There was not much encouragement to be gathered
from his countenance.
'"Alack! alack! alack!" he said, looking intensely distressed. "My
poor child, what can I tell you? Faith, I know no more than
yourself. Would to God I had never had a hand in bringing all this
sorrow upon you. And now I am powerless, quite powerless, to help
you out of it. It breaks my heart!" He sighed heavily, and stood
for some moments with his eyes fixed upon the ground. Then, turning
to Bessie suddenly again: "Child," said he, "I fear I can do nought
to help you. Nay, mayhap it may rather harm you to be seen
conversing with me now. So fare ye well. The only piece of counsel
that I can give you, is to plead for yourself."
'"Plead with _him_?" quoth the jailer under whose charge we were.
"By your leave, sir, that's no wise counsel of yours. Far better
tell her to hold her peace. What!"--here he sank his voice to a
significant whisper, and raised his eyebrows expressively--"you don't
know my Lord Chief-Justice better than that!"
'"Nay, surely even he, ruffian as he is, can scarce refuse to
hear----" Dr. Power did not finish his sentence, but laid his hand
affectionately on Bessie's head. She was looking then as she had
looked on that fatal day when the banner was presented to Monmouth,
only more beautiful. It struck me even at that moment, and I
understood what Dr. Power meant. Fear and excitement had heightened
the colour in her cheek, instead of taking it away, and added a
feverish brightness to her eyes. I have never in my life seen any
one so lovely as Bessie looked just then. Nevertheless the jailer
only smiled a rather compassionate but yet more contemptuous smile,
and shrugged his shoulders. He evidently had a very low opinion of
Dr. Power's judgment in this matter.
'This unexpected meeting had made me in some degree forget my qualms;
but that space of relief was only too soon over: and, oh! how my
heart sank again when the moment came at last, and we were told to
follow the jailer into court. All the former dread swept over me now
stronger than ever. Dr. Power's farewell, "God be with you, my
children, and preserve you. I doubt we shall never meet again!"
hardly reached my ears. I certainly did not take in its meaning at
the time; though afterwards the words came back to me with a pang,
for the foreboding was a true one. I never saw him again.
'I clung to Henrietta's waist, and trembled so violently, that I
believe she must have half carried me into the court. When I try to
recall what was going on around us, everything seems in a mist until
the moment when I found myself standing at the bar between Bessie and
Henrietta. If you have set your hearts upon a vivid description of a
court of justice, and a minute history of all the proceedings that
took place there that morning, I am afraid you will be disappointed,
because I have only an extremely vague impression of the whole scene.
There was an immense room, an immense crowd of people; but the whole
crowd--sheriff, mayor, lawyers, witnesses, and spectators--all looked
like one hazy vision. Only one out of those rows and rows of faces
did I see distinctly apart from the rest; and that was a face not
soon forgotten by those who had once seen it. No; it only required a
glance at those keen, fierce, deep-set eyes and scowling brows, and
that savage, repulsive mouth, to enable one to recognise the Lord
Chief-Justice. I recollect the rough, heavy tones with which he
bawled out a command to "speak louder" when my name was asked, and I
stammered out a timid, tremulous reply. His voice alone
half-frightened me out of my wits; and, oh! the oath which he used,
and the epithets which he bestowed on me and my father! (when at
length, with a desperate effort, I did manage to pronounce my name
audibly). I would not shock your ears by repeating them. The next
thing I remember is, that some papers were read, which of course must
have been the evidence taken down by the notary upon the day of our
arrest; and then a string of rapid questions were put to us that were
answered for the most part by Henrietta and Bessie--the same
questions chiefly that had been asked us before by Master Noakes.
Then some witnesses were called up and examined--some of Madame St.
Aubert's servants, and two men who seemed to have been friends of
Colonel Dare's. Of what they all said, I have not the least
recollection. I only remember the blustering insolent way in which
the Lord Chief-Justice from time to time interrupted them--sometimes
bursting in with a furious oath, sometimes with a volley of abuse,
sometimes with a horrible jest. I believe our examination lasted a
very little while in reality--much less time than we had stayed
waiting in the ante-room; but to me it seemed hours.
'We pleaded guilty to all the charges that were laid against us, only
that Henrietta denied having given money to Colonel Dare, or having
either helped in the working or presentation of Monmouth's luckless
banner; whereupon she was silenced with a shower of foul language,
that made us ready to sink into the earth with horror. When,
however, at length we heard our sentence, the first thought that
struck me was, that it was not such a very terrible one, after all.
An order was given that our fathers or guardians were to be called
upon immediately for the sum of ten thousand pounds apiece, in fine,
for the "high crime and misdemeanour" of which we confessed ourselves
guilty. This sum, over and above the seven thousand pounds which was
the ransom for the rest of Madame St. Aubert's pupils, was the
punishment which our additional piece of treason had brought down
upon our heads. But "ten thousand pounds" were simply so many words
to me, nothing more. I had not the smallest idea of what such a sum
really meant. In fact, the idea of a hundred pounds would, in those
days, have seemed to me quite as tremendous. I thought my father was
a very rich man, and that, though he would doubtless be somewhat
indignant at the demand, it was a matter of course that he would be
able to pay the ransom. But Bessie knew the value of money better
than I did.
'I heard a smothered cry beside me as Judge Jeffreys pronounced the
sentence; and when, with scarcely a moment's pause, he signed to the
jailer to remove us, she lingered for a moment, moved a few steps
after us, hesitated again, and the next instant, while Henrietta and
I stood motionless with horror and dismay, and even the jailer stared
in speechless surprise, she had sprung back again to the bar. "My
lord--my lord," she faltered in trembling, eager tones, "Hear me one
moment, just one moment, I pray you, for the love of God. I can
never pay such a sum of money. I have not a penny in the world; and
there is nobody to pay it for me. Oh my lord, do have mercy. My
uncle, Sir Geoffrey Davenant----"
'The Lord Chief-Justice must have been rather astonished at her
sudden audacity, or he would hardly have allowed her to go on so long
without interruption; but at this point he broke in with a rude,
derisive roar of laughter. "Oh ho! so Sir Geoffrey is your uncle, is
he? My very humble service to you, mistress. There, jailer, off
with her! off with her! we have no time for such foolery as this."
'The jailer moved towards her, whispering, "Are ye mad, mistress?"
and tried to lead her from the bar. But her spirit was up now;
indignation and despair had made her forget all fear for the moment.
With a glance that was almost fierce, she wrenched her arm from his
grasp, and continued passionately:
'"You will not save me? You will not have pity on me? Then, at
least, let me say this: if I must not plead for myself, at least let
me plead for that poor child. I dragged her into this trouble, I
persuaded her to give money; and for Henrietta Sidney, who----"
'"Take her away, jailer," thundered Jeffreys, with a curse and frown
that made my heart stand still--"unless she wants to pay the ransom
that her uncle paid this morning on Tower Hill." Then I saw Bessie
turn white as death; and covering her face with her hood, she
passively allowed the jailer to lead her away.
'The instant we had passed the threshold, I burst into a passion of
tears. As for Bessie, she walked a few steps mechanically, and then,
without a word or a sign, sank in a fainting fit on to the ground.
'As we re-entered the prison, the jailer carrying Bessie, still
unconscious, in his arms, we were met by the governor. "Poor maid!
poor maid!" he muttered pitifully, when he had heard the state of the
case. "But, mercy on us, what a lack of discretion some people have!
That she should have been so crazed as to dare to bandy words with
the Lord Chief-Justice! Marry, what could she expect? She was in
luck to escape so easily. Ah! these are fearful days, indeed." And
he passed on, with an expressive shake of the head, pausing a moment
to say in something of his old peevish manner: "I've ordered them to
find you a chamber to yourselves. 'Tis sorely inconvenient, ay,
well-nigh impossible to manage it; but there--well--my wife has been
urging me so strongly----"
'He finished the sentence with a grunt as he walked away. This piece
of news was certainly a drop of comfort in our cup of misfortune. It
was such a relief to find ourselves at last alone. Though our room
was dismal and comfortless enough, to be sure, still it was luxurious
compared to the horrible place we had left two hours ago. Yes--only
two hours ago, after all; but the very longest two hours that I ever
remember in the whole course of my life. Ah! may you never know what
it is to pass two such hours as those were!
'The turnkey left us, promising to send his wife with some strong
waters, which he said would "bring the young mistress back to life
again in a twinkling." He had laid Bessie gently down on the one
straw mattress which the little room contained; and Henrietta knelt
by her side, doing everything that she could think of to bring her to
herself. I stood by, meanwhile, awe-stricken and bewildered, for I
had never seen any one in a swoon before; and as the moments passed
on, and she did not move or breathe, I began to fancy that she was
dead, and that Henrietta was trying to hide it from me. At length,
when the turnkey's wife came in with the "strong waters," and rubbed
her temples, and poured a spoonful down her throat, Bessie did begin
to show some signs of life. A tinge of colour came back to her
cheeks, and she half-opened her eyes. But they had a strange, vacant
look; and when I sprang towards her with an exclamation of joy, she
gave an odd, frightened stare, as if she did not know me, and then
broke out into a wild fit of laughter.
'It was in vain that Henrietta kissed her, and spoke to her quietly,
and soothingly assured her that there was nothing now to fear, and
that I tried to make her understand where we were: she took not the
slightest notice of us, but only gazed at everything with the same
blank, unnatural stare.
'"What is the matter with her? What shall we do?" I whispered,
shrinking in dismay from her side.
'"Hush!" she whispered, and stood silently watching with intense
interest the countenance of the turnkey's wife.
'The woman bent over the mattress, and, with her hand on Bessie's
wrist, scrutinized her earnestly for a few minutes. Then, as she
looked, her face changed and, turning to Henrietta, she said gravely:
"This is somewhat more than a swoon, mistress. Look at her eyes, and
feel her hands too--how cold and clammy! Dear heart! I fear she is
very sick. Belike she is going to have the fever, poor lamb!"
'"The fever?" repeated Henrietta faintly.
'"Ay, mistress, it's been raging here of late; and there were some
down with it in that room where you've been not very long since. Oh!
it's been terrible bad in this place. I've lost two children by it,
and I had a touch of it myself."
'Henrietta and I exchanged terrified glances. The remembrance of our
conversation that morning was in the minds of both of us.
'"Ay, mistress, 'tis the sickness, I misdoubt me," said the turnkey's
wife again, when Henrietta told her of Bessie's restless, feverish
night, and her unnatural languor and depression in the morning.
"'Tis always so with them when it begins. She was sickening for the
fever all day, poor dear lady, depend upon it; and now this fright
coming upon it, has driven the poor thing clean out of her wits.
'Twill be more than a miracle if it doesn't go hard with her. Ah!
well-a-day, she won't be the first by a long way, whom that
stony-hearted, blood-thirsty----"
'"Oh don't, pray don't talk so," implored Henrietta in a tone of
distraction. "Only tell me what to do! Only bring her a physician.
I will pay you anything you ask, if you will bring a physician to
her."
'The woman shook her head doubtfully. She would see if it could be
managed, she said; but it was for the governor to give permission.
She durst do nothing without his orders, and he had just now gone
into court as witness in one of the trials that were taking place;
and then (she said), "Mayhap he will dine at his lordship's table.
But there, lack-a-day," she concluded, "a physician could do but
little for her now. The disease must have its course, you see,
mistress; besides, it misgives me--it does indeed, ladies--that it
will go hard with her, poor dear!"
'The turnkey's wife was evidently not given to looking on the bright
side of things, but she seemed kind-hearted, in her way,
notwithstanding; and she left the room, promising to do what she
could about a doctor directly the governor was forthcoming.
'For some moments Henrietta and I could only stand looking at one
another in mute dismay. It gave one such a miserable, helpless
feeling to hear the dreadful fever was already with us--that Bessie
was dangerously ill, and that we were absolutely powerless to help
her. Neither of us knew what ought to be done. Doctors, medicine,
proper food, none were to be had. Even the simplest comforts, that
she had never before been without, were now hopelessly out of our
reach. We could do nothing but make up the straw bed as well as we
could with some of the contents of our baggage, which we had found in
a tolerable state of preservation, lying in a corner of our new room.
Strange to say, nothing was missing but the looking-glass. The poor
girl had kept her word when she promised to do her best to take care
of our goods. So we made up a pillow for Bessie, and threw over her
everything in the way of covering that we could find, and then sat
down, with heavy hearts, to watch by her side. She had sunk back
into a perfectly unconscious state, looking as deadly white as she
had been before she was aroused from her long swoon.
'"Oh, if Mrs. Fortescue were but here!" cried Henrietta, wringing her
hands in despair. "If there was anything that we could do for her!
But there is nothing--nothing at all--only to sit still helplessly,
while she is perhaps dying under our very eyes. Frances, it is too
horrible!" and for the first time since I had known her, I saw
Henrietta cry.
'I had never before heard her speak so strongly and
passionately--never imagined how intense her feelings were; and now
the bitter grief in her voice, and the violent, uncontrolled way in
which she wept, quite frightened me. I could only lean my head
against her shoulder, and cry too; and in this disconsolate way we
sat till the turnkey appeared with dinner. He brought us a message
from his wife, to the effect that the governor would not return until
late in the evening; but that she would come again herself, and bring
a drink for the sick lady. Once more Henrietta entreated that a
doctor might be brought, but once more in vain. Even when she
offered every gold piece that her purse contained, the turnkey was
obstinate still.
'"Not without the governor's authority," he persisted. "These were
times when one must do nought rashly, if one meant one's head to stay
on one's shoulders."
'Well, the hours went on dismally and wearily. Poor Bessie woke from
her lethargy after a while, but in a state that shocked and
frightened us more than ever. She tossed incessantly from side to
side, with burning cheeks and parched lips--her blue eyes wide open,
and brilliant with fever. Oh! what misery it was to sit and listen
to her as she lay talking wildly and incoherently on all sorts of
subjects--sometimes about Madame St. Aubert, and Pauline, and her old
school occupations; at others, raving violently about Colonel Dare
and the Duke of Monmouth. Then she would fancy herself again at the
bar pleading before Judge Jeffreys, and implore piteously for mercy
on her uncle. But, oh! the worst of all was when she started up and
clung to Henrietta, screaming in an agony of fear that Judge Jeffreys
was going to send her to the scaffold. The turnkey's wife came again
in the afternoon with the promised draught; and whether it was the
effect of that, or that she was at last thoroughly exhausted, I do
not know, but she suddenly became quieter, and at length sank once
more into a state of stupor. Thus the day wore on, and at last night
came, and the turnkey's wife looked in to pay us a farewell visit,
bringing another draught for Bessie, and a candle. She looked at the
motionless figure on the mattress, with sincere pity in her face, and
then shook her head despondingly.
'"You do not think her better?" asked Henrietta with a quivering
voice.
'"She'll not be here in the morning," the woman answered gravely,
after a moment's hesitation. "I wish I could stay with you to-night,
mistress; but I've a sick babe to nurse myself." And with another
wistful, compassionate glance towards the mattress, she bade us good
night and closed the door.
'The next minute the silence that followed was broken by Bessie
herself.
'"Henrietta, what time is it?"
'She spoke quite calmly and naturally, though her voice was very
faint. A glance at her face showed that the delirium had passed
away; but there was a curious expression in her eyes that I had never
seen before. The wild, vacant look was gone, but they were still
strangely bright; and there was something so deep and solemn, and at
the same time so very sad and yearning, in the gaze which she turned
upon me as I went to her side, that I almost shrank from her.
'"What o'clock is it?" she repeated, with an effort to raise her
voice.
'"About nine, my love," Henrietta replied tremulously. "How do you
feel, dear Bessie? You are better, I think, are you not?"
'Bessie made no answer. She only closed her eyes again, and leaned
her cheek against Henrietta's hand. At length she opened them again,
and said abruptly:
'"I heard what she said, Henrietta. She was quite right. I shall
not be here in the morning."
'A thrill ran through me as she said this.
'"Oh don't, Bessie--don't speak so! You are, better now--indeed you
are! You will get well, and my father and Henrietta's will pay."
Here I broke off suddenly, checked by a warning glance from
Henrietta, and buried my face in the pillow to choke back the rising
sobs.
'"No, Frances, dear, I am not better," said Bessie, still in the same
calm, steady tone; "and I don't think I want to get better. It is
all coming back to me now. I remember what he said about my uncle.
Was that very long ago, Henrietta?"
'"Only this morning, my dear."
'"Only this morning! And I feel as if it was all so very, very long
ago. It seems like a dream--a dreadful, horrible dream. Ah! I
thought I was going to die when he looked at me like that." She gave
a sort of gasp and shudder, and clung more closely to Henrietta's
hand. "I don't want to think of his face now, Henrietta. Do help
me," she said plaintively. "Won't you read to me, and say some
prayers?"
[Illustration: FOR A MOMENT SHE KNELT IN SILENCE, HER EYES FIXED ON
THE PAGE.]
'Without speaking, Henrietta took out her prayer-book, and found the
Service for the Communion of the Sick. Her strong self-command was
almost giving way then. For a moment she knelt in silence, her eyes
fixed on the page, and her lip quivering; but when her voice came, it
was clear and firm, as if we had been at evening prayers in Madame
St. Aubert's schoolroom.
'For some minutes after Henrietta had closed the book, Bessie lay
quite still, with her eyes shut, and I thought at first that she had
fallen asleep; but presently she looked up and said, with a faint
sigh:
'"Henrietta, I never knew what you were before. It was my fault if
we were not good friends in the old days. Will you forgive all those
thoughtless words and taunts of mine?"
'Henrietta's answer was a long, fervent kiss.
'"You were right, too, when you said we should bring trouble upon
ourselves," Bessie went on mournfully; "but I could not help it. I
do not know that I could do anything else, if all should come over
again. I thought I was doing right. My uncle loved the Duke. Only
poor little Frances--She must forgive me too. I feel as if I was a
good deal to blame for her part in this matter.'"
'"No, no, dear Bessie," I sobbed, flinging myself down by her side.
"It was not your fault. Henrietta did nothing, and you know she has
been punished as much as we have."
'"Dear little Fan, good-bye."
'These words were very faintly and wearily spoken; then her eyes
closed again, and Henrietta, signing to me not to disturb her, drew
me gently away from the bed. I made no remonstrance when she
arranged some cloaks at the other end of the room, and begged me to
lie down and try to sleep. All the afternoon I had felt tired and
drowsy, and as if a heavy weight was pressing down my eyes. Now my
head was aching painfully, my throat felt terribly parched and sore,
and I lay down and sobbed on drearily, while Henrietta made me as
comfortable as she could, and then went to keep watch by Bessie's
side.
'"Perhaps she will be better to-morrow, if she goes to sleep," I
murmured dreamily. But Henrietta's only answer was a silent kiss;
and that is the last I remember of that weary night.
'It was broad daylight when I next opened my eyes. Henrietta was
standing over me with a white worn face, and eyelids red and swollen
with tears. I just recollect noticing this, and also vaguely
wondering where Bessie was, for she was not lying on the mattress
now; and when I raised my head, and tried to look round the room,
there seemed no one there but Henrietta and myself. But I did not
ask her any questions, and I made no reply when she spoke to me. In
fact, her words did not seem to reach my senses, I felt far too ill
and wretched to care for anything, except to be left alone. I
certainly was conscious of an intense desire for that. It was agony
to move my head, and my throat was so much swollen, and so painful,
that I could scarcely breathe, much less speak. Certain hazy
recollections I have of the turnkey's wife lifting me up, and pouring
something down my throat. Then comes a long blank in my memory--that
is, not quite a blank, for I have a confused remembrance of long
restless nights and constant thirst, and horrible nightmare feelings,
one of which was, that mamma perpetually appeared, bringing me a cup
of cider, but that directly I tried to take it from her hand, she
invariably dashed it to the ground. I woke up in my sound senses
again. I heard Henrietta talking to somebody.
'"She will never get well here. The doctor told me so this morning.
He says she must have pure air and wholesome, nourishing food; that
nothing else can save her. Oh! what shall I do?"
'"Ah, poor little heart," said the voice of the turnkey's wife; "she
is sorely changed, to be sure. She don't look as if you'd keep her
here much longer. Well-a-day! My heart aches for her mother, poor
lady; and they say her father's well-nigh ruined with gambling, and
that's why he can't pay the fine."
'"And you sent the letter? You are certain that it went by a sure
hand?" Henrietta asked anxiously.
'"Yes, yes, mistress, the letter's gone safe enough. But I've heard
tell that they'll never let her come here till the money's paid; and
sure she'll fret sadly to think how the poor child's lying sick and
calling for her."
'"Henrietta," I said, when I heard the woman leave the room, "have
you been writing to mamma?"
'She was looking down at me with a perplexed, pained countenance, but
my words made it light up with a bright gleam of joy.
'"Frances, my darling, are you better? How glad I am to hear you
speak like yourself again!"
'"Have I been very ill, Henrietta?"
'"Yes, dear, very ill indeed; but you are going to get better now, I
hope."
'"I don't know. I thought you said--didn't you say something about a
doctor?"
'"Yes, sweetheart; the governor sent you a doctor. He is coming
again to-day."
'"And have I been very long ill?"
'"Only three days."
'"Only three days! but everything seems so long ago!"
'Even as I spoke, I remembered how Bessie had used the very same
words; and I tried to raise myself on my elbow and look round, but I
was much too weak to make the slightest movement without Henrietta's
arm.
'"Where is Bessie?" I whispered.
'Henrietta's face changed, and she hesitated, as if doubtful what
answer to give me; and, with a sudden pang, the thought came back to
me of that night when I had cried myself to sleep, and that morning
when, looking at the mattress where Bessie had been lying, I saw that
she was no longer there. So I did not ask again, but passively
swallowed the medicine that Henrietta brought me, and lay for a long
time in silence, with my aching head in her lap. Then at length I
repeated my first question, "Have you been writing to mamma?"
'"Yes, sweetheart; I wrote a long letter, and told her
everything--how ill you were, and how much you wanted her. You kept
imploring her to come all through last night."
'"Did I? Ah, I have been dreaming about her so much! Henrietta, did
the doctor say that I should not get well?"
'"He thought you very ill, my dear; but you are so much better this
morning, that I hope he will say that you are getting quite well now."
'"If mamma would but come!" I murmured. "I think I should get well
if I could only have mamma."
'"Poor child!" said Henrietta, with a sigh. "I know that I cannot
nurse you as well as she would. But she will come, Fan, when my
letter reaches her. I am sure she will. And now, my dear child, you
have talked too much already. You must lie still and rest now, and
try to go to sleep."
'I was thinking of those words of the turnkey's wife, about my father
being ruined, and not being able to pay the ransom; but I did not
feel equal to the effort of asking Henrietta whether there was any
truth in them, for I was very weary, and ill, and languid, and so
weak that I could not even lift my arm. One thing more, however, I
wanted to ask, before I followed her advice. "Henrietta, did you
ever hear whether our letters were sent,--those letters that we
wrote, you know, that first day?"
'"I do not know, but I fear not; for although I did ask the turnkey
about them once, he would not give me a direct answer, and he looked
so grim that I was afraid to say anything more."
'Henrietta did not tell me then that her ransom was already paid, and
that the order for her release had been made out that very morning.
'It was not until some time afterwards that I found out how much I
had to thank her for: how she had nursed me through those three days
when I was lying between life and death, as untiringly and devotedly
as if she had been mamma herself; nor how, when she might have left
the jail the moment the order of release was signed, she had chosen
instead to stay with me in the pestilential atmosphere of that
wretched, comfortless little room, utterly refusing to leave me until
my mother should come to take her place. But, as I said before, all
this had not dawned upon me as yet. Besides, I felt that no one,
however kind, could be quite the same as mamma when one was ill; so I
am afraid I must have seemed very ungrateful to poor Henrietta, when
I murmured fretfully, "Oh dear! oh dear! why doesn't my mother come?
No one can nurse me as well as she can. I am sure I shall die if she
won't come soon. Oh, mamma, mamma, I do want you so _very_ much!"
Then, with Henrietta's soothing words, and sweet low tones sounding
in my ears, I sank exhausted into a long, deep sleep.'