|The rest of the day was spent in festivity and amusement.
Lord Derwentwater and his affianced bride did not stray beyond the
garden, and seemed so perfectly happy in each other's society that no
one went near them.
The prince explored the mysterious glen, and Charles Radclyffe acted
as his guide, introducing him to all the beauties of the place, and
relating all the legends connected with it. A large party accompanied
his highness, including Lady Webb and Dorothy Forster--the latter of
whom had often seen the place before, but was quite as much enchanted
with it as ever.
The visit to this picturesque dell, which has been previously described,
occupied some time, for there was a great deal to be seen. But neither
the prince, nor any of those with him, were aware that, while they were
tracking the course of the Devil's Water over its rocky channel, or
standing near the pool, they were watched by a person concealed amid the
brushwood on its banks.
This person was an emissary of Sir William Lorraine, of Bywell Park,
high sheriff of the county, and a strong supporter of the Government.
That very morning, Sir William had received the astounding information
that the Pretender had arrived at Dilston Castle, and that a rising in
his favour was imminent among the gentlemen of the county; but as the
news came from a suspicious source, the high sheriff, though alarmed,
did not entirely credit it, and, before taking any active measures--such
as raising a posse-comitatus, or calling out the militia--he determined
to send a couple of spies to Dilston to ascertain the truth of the
report.
One of these emissaries was now concealed, as we have stated, among
the trees overhanging the glen. Without betraying himself, he got
sufficiently near the party to hear their discourse, and soon
learnt enough to convince him that the plainly attired, but
distinguished-looking young man, whom he beheld, and to whom so much
attention was paid by Charles Radclyffe and the rest, was no other than
the Chevalier de Saint George.
As soon as he had clearly ascertained this point, he stole away, mounted
his horse, which he had left in a thicket near the moor, and galloped
off to convey the important information to Sir William Lorraine.
On reaching Bywell Park, he found the high sheriff anxiously expecting
him, and called out:
“I have seen the Pretender, Sir William--seen him with my own eyes.”
“You are certain of it, Jesmond?”
“I saw him in the glen by the side of the Devil's Water. He had a
large party with him, and I heard several of 'em address him as 'your
majesty.'”
“Enough,” cried the high sheriff. “You have done your work well,
Jesmond. But where have you left Hedgeley?”
“I've seen nothing of him since we got to Dilston, Sir William. He went
to the castle, and I went to the grounds. I took the right course it
appears, for I soon found the person I was looking for, and without
asking any questions, or letting myself be seen.”
“I hope Hedgeley has not been seized as a spy,” said the high sheriff.
“If he has, he'll tell nothing, Sir William. Don't fear him. If you want
to take the place by surprise tomorrow, you can do it. His lordship has
taken no precautions. With half a dozen mounted men I could have taken
the Pretender prisoner myself, and have carried him off.”
“I wish you had done so, Jesmond,” laughed the high sheriff. “It would
have saved me the trouble of getting a party of men together. I must set
about the task without delay. You think all will be safe at Dilston till
tomorrow?”
“Not a doubt about it, Sir William. Lord Derwent-water's guests seem to
be amusing themselves. I think--from what I overheard--that his Lordship
has a grand banquet to-day. Certainly, some festivities are taking place
at the castle.”
“It would be a pity to disturb them,” said the high sheriff. “To-morrow
I will present myself at the castle with sufficient force to render all
resistance useless.”
Hedgeley, the emissary to Dilston, had not fared so well as his comrade.
Stopped at the gate, and unable to explain his business entirely to the
porter's satisfaction, he was locked up in a strong room for the night.
This was done by Colonel Oxburgh's order, who chanced to be in the court
at the time, and interrogated him. Except detention, the spy had nothing
to complain of, for he had plenty to eat and drink.
Jesmond had correctly informed the high sheriff, when he told him that
a grand dinner would be given that day at the castle. A vast deal
of handsome plate was displayed at the banquet, which was far more
agreeable to the noble host than the dinner of the previous day, since
it was graced by the presence of his affianced bride, who now sat next
to him, and looked more charming than ever, being beautifully dressed,
and in high spirits. The prince was likewise in a very lively mood, and
contributed to the general gaiety at the upper end of the table.
In the evening there was music in the grand saloon, which was
brilliantly lighted up for the occasion. Anna produced a great effect,
and her magnificent voice enraptured the prince as much as it had
enraptured Lord Der-wentwater when he first heard it.
Very different in style, but equally effective in their way, were some
simple ditties sung with great taste and feeling by Dorothy Forster.
As we have intimated, the prince was in a very gay humour and seemed to
take no thought of the morrow--though that morrow had much in store for
him. He talked lightly with Anna and Dorothy, laughed and jested with
Sir John Webb, Colonel Oxburgh, and Forster, but he talked seriously
with no one.
So passed his last night at Dilston Castle.