far from regarding it as a degradation, I shall be delighted to act as
Jane Lane's groom. The proposal meets my wishes exactly, and seems to
offer me the chance I so eagerly desire of reaching the coast. What
sort of person is Captain Stone?"
"A fierce Parliamentarian," replied Whitgreave. "I have reason to
remember him. At the conclusion of the Civil Wars he came hither in
quest of me, and searched the house most rigorously. But I had taken
refuge in one of the hiding-places, and escaped his vigilance."
"The circumstance you mention not only illustrates Captain Stone's
character, but proves the security of the hiding-place," observed
Charles. He then turned to Lord Wilmot, and said, "It strikes me very
forcibly, Wilmot, that this pass must have been procured for you."
"Very likely, Colonel Lane obtained it for me," was the reply. "But I
gladly resign it to your majesty."
"Nay, I cannot take your place," said the king.
"You will deeply hurt me by a refusal, sire," said Lord Wilmot. "And
now a word to you, Mr. Whitgreave, and I beg your particular attention
to what I am about to say. Should any search be made by the rebels for
the king while I am in your house, I desire that I may be given up, in
order to divert them from his majesty."
"I have not been consulted, Mr. Whitgreave," said Charles. "And I
peremptorily forbid you to act as directed by Lord Wilmot. Let no more
be said on the subject."
Mr. Whitgreave bowed.
At this juncture, Mrs. Whitgreave, fancying she might be in the way,
craved permission to retire, and made a profound obeisance to the king,
who conducted her to the door.
CHAPTER VIII.
HOW TWO SPIES CAME BY NIGHT TO MOSELEY OLD HALL.
"I have a suggestion to make, my liege," said Lord Wilmot, as Charles
came back. "On consideration, I think it will be best that I should
proceed to Bentley House at once. There I can be of use to your
majesty, whereas my presence here rather tends to imperil you. Major
Careless can accompany me, if he pleases, and return to let you know
when Mistress Jane Lane is ready to set forth on her journey."
"Good," replied the king. "Does Lord Wilmot's proposition meet with
your approval?" he added to Careless.
"Perfectly," was the reply. "If your majesty can dispense with my
personal services during your sojourn here, I think I can be better
employed in acting as a messenger. If I should unluckily fall into the
enemy's hands, they will get little out of me. Moreover, if the rogues
should get on your track, I will engage to mislead them."
"I have every reliance upon thee," said Charles. "But, faith! I shall
be sorry to lose thee."
Almost immediately after the conference just described, his majesty
repaired with his attendants to the room above the porch, the latticed
windows of which commanded the approach to the house, and of course a
sharp look out was kept, but the only persons who came near the place
were some wounded soldiers, one of whom Charles recognised as belonging
to his own guard, and it distressed him exceedingly that he could
not speak with the poor fellow. Mr. Whitgreave, however, and Father
Huddlestone gave the men relief, but did not dare to invite them into
the house.
About this time Careless disappeared, and was not seen again for two
or three hours. When an opportunity occurred, the king questioned him
as to the cause of his absence, and Careless owned that he had been
at Pendeford Mill, but had not seen Jasper. The page was gone. He had
departed early in the morning, the miller said, without mentioning
whither he was going.
"You need not be uneasy about him," remarked Charles with a laugh. "He
is born under a lucky star, and like myself, as I hope and believe,
will escape his enemies. Very probably, you will hear of him at Bentley
House."
Careless thought so too, and though disappointed, did not allow himself
to be cast down.
No troopers were seen that day, but Careless was able to account for
their non-appearance, Croft, the miller, having informed him that the
patrols had gone in a different direction, and he added a distressing
piece of intelligence, to the effect that Colonel Ashenhurst had paid a
visit to Boscobel House, and allowed his men to plunder it.
The king, with Lord Wilmot and Careless, dined in the library, where
they were less liable to observation than they would have been in any
other room. No servants were present, and Mr. Whitgreave and Father
Huddlestone again waited on his majesty.
As soon as the household had retired to rest, Lord Wilmot and Careless
took leave of the king, and were conducted by Father Huddlestone to the
close called Allport's Leasow, where they found Mr. Whitgreave with a
couple of steeds, ready saddled and bridled.
Mounting without a moment's loss of time, they bade him and Father
Huddlestone good night, and rode off very quietly, till they were far
enough from the house, as they judged, to accelerate their pace with
safety. They then galloped off in the direction of Bentley House.
After their departure the king remained for some time alone in the room
over the porch. Not daring to burn a light, he could not read, and
having no inclination for slumber, he was obliged to occupy himself
with his own thoughts, and having much to meditate upon, he fell into a
deep reverie.
At last he roused himself, and finding that the moon had arisen in the
interim, moved towards the lattice window, and gazed at the lovely
scene without.
Seen by moonlight, the picturesque old mansion had a most charming
effect, but only certain portions of it were visible from the
projecting window at which he stood, and he had surveyed with
admiration all that came within his ken, when his eye was caught by a
glittering steel cap which could just be seen above the garden wall.
A mounted trooper, it appeared, had raised himself in the saddle, and
was peering inquisitively at the house.
More careful examination showed the king that the trooper had a comrade
with him, the latter being on foot, and armed with a carabine.
Even at that distance, and by that light, Charles recognised the
foremost trooper. The man's features were too marked to be mistaken;
and, besides, circumstances had fixed them on his memory. It was
Madmannah. And Charles did not for a moment doubt that the other was
Ezra. Like bloodhounds these two men seemed ever on his track, and the
dread that they might hunt him down at last, for a moment shook him.
At this moment the door was softly opened, and Father Huddlestone came
in.
"I came to warn your majesty," he said. "But I find you have discovered
those two spies."
"Yes, I see them plainly enough," replied the king. "And I can tell you
something about them, father, that you would hardly guess. Those are
the two rogues who tried to capture me in the oak."
"Is it possible, sire?" exclaimed the priest. "They will fail as they
did then. The saints who have your majesty in their guard will thwart
their evil designs. Mr. Whitgreave, being somewhat fatigued, has
retired to rest. But he bade me call him on the instant if any danger
threatened. I will do so now."
"Stay an instant, father," said the king. "I am unwilling to disturb
him without cause. I think those two spies are only reconnoitring the
house, and do not design to attempt an entrance now."
"Oh! the treacherous villains!" cried Father Huddlestone. "Were I to
point them out to my patron, he would fire upon them and destroy them."
"Then do not wake him," said Charles. "I see no cause for apprehension.
Look! they are marching off."
"Truly, they are moving, sire, but they have not finished their survey.
Having examined the front, they are going to the back of the house."
"You are right, father," replied Charles.
End of Book the Fourth.
Book the Fifth.
JANE LANE.
CHAPTER I.
BY WHOM THE TWO SPIES WERE PUT TO FLIGHT.
In order that they might watch the proceedings of the two spies,
Father Huddlestone took the king to his own room, the windows of which
commanded the rear of the house. For a few minutes nothing could be
seen of the troopers, and the watchers began to think they must have
departed, when the two men were observed creeping stealthily past the
outbuildings on the left. Both being on foot, it seemed clear that they
designed to enter the house.
Becoming seriously alarmed, Father Huddlestone besought the king to
retire to his hiding-place, while he himself called up Mr. Whitgreave,
when the clatter of horses' hoofs was heard rapidly approaching, and
almost immediately afterwards Charles and his companion perceived two
horsemen enter the close known as Allport's Leasow.
As a matter of course, the arrival of the horsemen had been heard by
the troopers as well as by the king and his companion, and alarmed by
the untoward circumstance, the Roundheads abandoned their design upon
the house, and hurriedly made for the spot where Madmannah had tied
up his horse. This was a gate opening upon the close, but before they
could reach it, they were confronted by the horsemen, who drew their
swords, and prepared to attack them, thus clearly proving themselves to
be Royalists.
As an answer to this threat of the Cavaliers, Ezra discharged his
carabine at the foremost of them, but evidently without effect, for
the individual he had aimed at uttered a fierce exclamation, and would
certainly have cut down the trooper, if the gate had not hindered him,
and during the time required to force it open, Ezra had made good his
retreat. Nor did Madmannah stand his ground. When his comrade took
to his heels, he fled likewise, and they both sought refuge in the
grove that skirted the close. Here they were quickly pursued by the
Cavaliers, who did not rest till they had driven them away from the
house, Madmannah's horse being seized upon as lawful spoil by the
victors.
Charles and Father Huddlestone were still standing at the window
looking out upon the scene, though all those engaged in the conflict
had disappeared, when Mr. Whitgreave, who had been roused by the report
of the carabine, entered the room, and learnt what had occurred.
"Who can those Cavaliers be?" inquired the king. "'Tis strange they
should have arrived so opportunely."
"Perhaps Major Careless has returned, my liege, and has brought Colonel
Lane with him," observed Mr. Whitgreave. "No other persons would be
likely to come here to-night. I will go forth and see."
Mr. Whitgreave's conjecture proved correct. By the time he reached the
close, Careless and Colonel Lane had returned to it, and they then
explained that they had come to conduct the king to Bentley House.
"I do not think his majesty could safely remain here another day, Mr.
Whitgreave," said Colonel Lane. "I have been given to understand that
Captain Stone, the governor of Stafford Castle, intends to search this
house to-morrow, and to bring Southall, the redoubted priest-catcher,
with him. It seems quite certain that, in some way or other, the king
has been tracked to Moseley Hall, and I am therefore of opinion that he
ought to change his quarters without delay."
"I do not believe that even Southall will discover the hiding-places
in my house," rejoined Whitgreave. "Still, the king ought not to be
exposed to any risk that can be avoided; and if you are prepared to
receive him at Bentley House, I think he had best go there to-night. At
all events, after what you tell me of Captain Stone's threatened visit,
I should not dare to oppose the plan."
Mr. Whitgreave then returned to the house, and told the king what he
had seen and heard.
"Your two faithful adherents are waiting to take you hence, sire," he
said. "Colonel Lane affirms," he added, with a sigh, "that my house is
no longer a safe place of refuge for your majesty, and though I cannot
agree with him, I will not urge you to stay."
"I did not expect this sudden summons, I confess, Mr. Whitgreave,"
rejoined the king; "and I need not say it is far from agreeable to
me. But I have no option. From the appearance of those two spies I am
convinced that my retreat has been discovered, and if Colonel Lane had
not come for me, I should have deemed it prudent, to leave before
daybreak. I hope you will not suffer for the devotion you have shown
me. But I shall ever remain your debtor." Then, turning to Father
Huddlestone, he added, "it might be enough for me to tell you that I
shall always think the better of your religion since I have seen how
well you practise it, but when I reflect on the many good and faithful
subjects you have brought me in these evil times, when almost every
hand is raised against me, I feel that I should be ungrateful if I did
not say how deeply I am beholden to you. You have made the Penderels
what they are, and what I have found them--the truest men living."
"Through Heaven's grace I have made them what they ought to be, my
liege," said Father Huddlestone. "I have always striven against those
who have sought to overthrow the throne. It is possible that Heaven may
have further trials in store for your majesty, to which I earnestly
exhort you to submit with patience, but I feel assured that in due
season you will be amply rewarded. Place your trust in Heaven, sire,
and you will be delivered from your enemies. It may be long ere you
regain your kingdom, but the day _will_ come--provided you are true to
Heaven. Forsake not God, and you shall not be forsaken!"
Charles remained silent for a few moments, and then said in a low tone:
"I will strive to follow your counsel, father."
The king was still pondering on what had been said to him, when Mrs.
Whitgreave, bearing a taper, entered the room. Robed in white, and
looking excessively pale, she looked like an apparition.
Advancing to meet her, Charles said:
"I should have been sorry to quit Moseley Hall without bidding you
adieu, madam, but I trust you have not been disturbed from your
slumbers on my account."
"I keep long vigils, sire, and often pass the greater part of the night
in prayer," she replied. "When my son tapped at my door just now to
inform me that your majesty was about to depart, I was praying for your
safety."
"I thank you, madam," replied the king, much moved. "The prayers of so
excellent a lady must avail me."
"If I live to see your majesty restored to your kingdom, I shall have
lived long enough. Here is a little relic," she said, offering him
a small silver box. "I dare say your majesty has no faith in such
things--nevertheless, I pray you to wear it."
"I will wear it for your sake, madam," he rejoined, taking the little
silver box, "and I shall have no doubt of its efficacy."
Charles would then have taken leave of the loyal-hearted dame, but she
besought permission to attend him to the outer door.
Accordingly, the whole party quitted the room, and proceeding as
noiselessly as possible, descended the great oak staircase to the hall,
where Charles bade adieu to the excellent old lady, and quitted the
house, attended by his host and Father Huddlestone.
Left by herself, Mrs. Whitgreave's strength almost forsook her. On
regaining her own chamber, she knelt down before a crucifix, placed in
a small recess, and again offered up prayers for the king's deliverance
from his enemies.
Meanwhile, Charles had proceeded to Allport's Leasow, where he found
his faithful adherents waiting for him, and saluted them most cordially.
"I did not expect you quite so soon, Colonel Lane," he said. "But you
have arrived in the very nick of time. Without you and Careless we
might have had some trouble with those rascally troopers."
"I am only sorry they escaped us," replied Colonel Lane.
"Here is the horse we have taken, my liege," said Careless, who had
dismounted, and was holding both steeds by the bridle. "Will you mount
him? 'Twill be a good jest to say that I have taken the rogue's horse."
"Oddsfish! the horse is well enough," cried Charles, as he vaulted into
the saddle. "These Roundhead knaves have robbed all the best stables."
The party being now ready to set forth, Mr. Whitgreave approached the
king, and asked if his majesty had any further commands for him.
"My last injunctions to you are, Mr. Whitgreave, that you come to
me at Whitehall, and bring Father Huddlestone with you. I defer all
expression of my thanks till I see you both there. May the good time
arrive speedily!"
After receiving the good priest's valedictory benediction, he rode out
of the close with his attendants.
At first, the party proceeded at a foot's pace, and they had not gone
far, when the king halted for a moment to gaze at the old mansion,
which was seen to the greatest advantage on that bright moonlight
night. It looked so hushed in repose that no one would have dreamed
that its quietude could have been recently disturbed.
But Charles was not allowed to indulge his meditations long. Colonel
Lane was impatient to be gone, and after another look at the
picturesque old mansion, the king was obliged to bid farewell to
Moseley Hall.
CHAPTER II.
HOW THE KING ARRIVED AT BENTLEY HOUSE.
The night was so enchanting, that although the king was not without
apprehensions of a chance encounter with the enemy, he greatly enjoyed
his ride. Moreover, he was very well pleased with the trooper's horse
on which he was mounted.
Colonel Lane acted as leader of the party, and took them across a
common, now known as Cooke's Gorse, past Essington Mill, and then
over another common to Allen's Rough. More heath still lay before
them, and having traversed a very wild district, they reached an
extensive coppice, which formed part of Colonel Lane's own estate.
During the whole ride, they had scarcely seen a habitation, and had not
encountered a single individual. Deeming the danger over, Colonel Lane
slackened his pace, and began to converse with the king, telling his
majesty that he thought his horse had gone remarkably well.
"I think so too, colonel," replied Charles. "What is more, I am of
opinion that this is not the first time I have ridden him."
"Indeed, sire!" exclaimed Colonel Lane, in surprise.
"Unless I am greatly mistaken, this is the very horse I rode from
Worcester to White Ladies. I know his action. How say you, Careless?"
"It certainly did not occur to me before, my liege," replied Careless.
"But now I look at the horse more closely I believe your majesty is
right."
"You will be able to settle the question, Colonel Lane," observed
Charles. "I gave the Worcester horse to you at White Ladies. What
became of him afterwards?"
"I lost him in the fight near Newport, where Lord Derby was worsted by
Lilburn and Colonel James. Possibly he may have fallen into the hands
of one of the troopers."
"It must be so," exclaimed Charles. "Oddsfish! 'tis a strange
circumstance. Now that I have got the horse again, I will not part with
him if I can help it."
"Doubtless, he is well worth keeping," observed Careless; "but he may
be recognised by the rascally trooper, and the discovery would endanger
your majesty."
"The risk is so slight that I shall not heed it," said Charles.
Passing through the coppice they soon afterwards entered a park, in the
midst of which stood Bentley House.
This fine old mansion has been since pulled down, and replaced by a
modern structure, which, though handsome and commodious, does not of
course possess the historic interest of the earlier building. With
its ornamented gables, projections, and large windows, Bentley House
presented a very imposing front, but it was at the back that the party
arrived, and as they rode into the court-yard, a faithful groom, who
was waiting for his master's return, came forth from the stables with a
lantern and took charge of the horses. Whatever he thought, this trusty
fellow manifested no surprise that the colonel and Careless should have
a common woodman in their company.
"My man, Lutwyche, thinks you are a fugitive Cavalier, sire," remarked
Colonel Lane. "He is thoroughly honest and loyal, but I do not mean
to trust him with the great secret. Thank Heaven I have brought your
majesty here in safety, and I trust no harm will befal you while you
are my guest. You may sleep soundly, for I shall remain on guard during
the remainder of the night. It distresses me that I am obliged to offer
you such poor accommodation, but if a larger room were assigned you
suspicion would be excited. At any rate, you will be more comfortably
lodged than in the secret closet at Boscobel House."
"Pray make no apologies, colonel," said Charles. "The size of the room
is a matter of perfect indifference to me. Put me where you please."
Entering by the back door, they then proceeded to Colonel Lane's study,
where they found Lord Wilmot, who was delighted to see the king, and
congratulated him on his safe arrival. Being much fatigued, Charles
begged to be conducted to his room without delay; whereupon Colonel
Lane, with a thousand apologies, took him to a small chamber at the top
of the house. Small as it was, the couch appeared extremely comfortable
to the wearied monarch, who sank into a deep, unbroken slumber, from
which he was aroused by Careless. Fain would he have slept a few hours
longer; but that was quite impossible, as Careless informed him.
"It appears to me," said Careless, seating himself at the king's
bedside, "that your majesty does not exactly comprehend what you will
have to do, and I think I had better explain matters to you. In the
first place, Mistress Jane Lane sets out early this morning on the
pretext of a visit to her relatives the Nortons, of Abbots Leigh, and
you will attend her in the capacity of groom."
"But Abbots Leigh is near Bristol," said the king. "She cannot possibly
get there to-day."
"She has no such intention," replied Careless. "She will proceed first
to Packington Hall, where a halt will be made for an hour or so. Sir
Clement Fisher has been apprised of the visit, and will be prepared for
your majesty's reception."
"Good," said the king, "I shall be glad to see Sir Clement. But where
am I to rest for the night?"
"At Long Marston, near Stratford-on-Avon, the residence of Mr. Tombs,
who is a near relative of the Lanes and a staunch adherent of your
majesty."
"Mr. Tombs is a true man--of that I am quite sure," rejoined Charles.
"I shall be quite content to stay at his house."
"Your majesty, I think, understands that Mistress Jane Lane has got a
pass for herself and her servant?"
"Yes. I am to be her groom. I quite understand it. Did you imagine
I could have any disinclination for the part, after all I have gone
through? I shall be delighted to act as groom to so charming a person
as Jane Lane."
"Then I may as well state, without further preamble, that I have
brought your majesty a costume suitable to the part you will have to
enact--grey doublet and hose, as you will see. The garments were made
for Colonel Lane's groom, Lutwyche--but I am sure they will fit you.
Here are boots and a hat to complete the disguise. The arrangement
appears to me extremely pleasant, and I should be very happy to take
your majesty's place, if I were permitted."
"Are you to be left behind with Lord Wilmot?" asked the king.
"No, sire," replied Careless. "His lordship and myself will attend
you--but at a respectful distance. You will be accompanied by Mr. and
Mrs. Petre. Mrs. Petre, I must inform your majesty, is Jane Lane's
sister. It is proper you should know that neither Mrs. Petre nor her
husband have the slightest idea that they will have the honour of
attending upon your majesty."
The king then arose, and assisted by Careless, put on the suit of dark
grey cloth provided for him. When he was fully equipped, he said to
Careless:
"How think you, Will? Shall I pass muster? Do I look like a groom?"
"Your appearance is all that can be desired, my liege," replied
Careless. "But you must take care not to betray yourself by any
inadvertence. Come down to the stables with me, and I will get Lutwyche
to give you some instructions in the part you will have to play."
"Oddsfish! I flatter myself I can groom a horse," cried Charles. "'Tis
true I have not had much practice."
"You will be none the worse for a lesson, my liege," said Careless.
"This woodman's garb must not be seen," he added, putting the disguise
abandoned by Charles into a small valise, which he had brought with
him. "I must needs ask your majesty to carry this portmanteau. And
please to bear in mind, that you are now Will Jones, the son of one of
Colonel Lane's tenants."
He then left the room, but had not taken many steps down the staircase,
when he called out in a loud voice,
"Art thou coming, Will? Never was there so lazy a rascal."
"I am quite ready, your honour," replied Charles, following with the
portmanteau.
CHAPTER III.
HOW WILL JONES FOUND A FRIEND IN THE STABLE.
As they passed through the back part of the house on the way to
the stables, they met two or three women-servants, who glanced
inquisitively at the new groom, and thought him a good-looking young
fellow. In the court-yard they found Colonel Lane and Lord Wilmot. The
former was talking with his head falconer, Randal Gates, and telling
him that he should require the hawks and spaniels after breakfast.
"I mean to give this gentleman, Mr. Harris," he said, glancing at Lord
Wilmot, "a little sport. My sister is going to Long Marston, and we
will ride with her as far as Packington Hall."
"The hawks and spaniels shall be ready for you, colonel, whenever you
require them, and as there are plenty of partridges in the corn fields,
I make no doubt you will be able to show Mr. Harris some good sport."
The falconer then retired, and Colonel Lane turned to bid Careless good
morning--glancing significantly at the same time at the king, who stood
respectfully aside with his cap in his hand.
"Maybe you don't know me, colonel," said Charles, with an awkward bow.
"Oh! yes, I know thee well enough, Will," replied Colonel Lane. "Thou
art David Jones's son, and my sister's new groom. I hope thou wilt
serve her well. Put down thy portmanteau and come with me to the
stables."
Charles obeyed, and followed Colonel Lane and the others to the
stables, which were very large, but there were not many horses in the
stalls. Lutwyche came forward as his master entered with the others. He
stared when he saw the king in his groom's attire, and a cunning smile
lighted up his hard features.
"This is Will Jones, my sister's new groom, Lutwyche," said the
colonel. "Explain to him what he will have to do."
"I should guess he has not had much experience, colonel," replied the
old groom with a grin. "Mistress Jane, I understand, is going to
Bristol, but she has not yet told me which horse she will ride. Her
favourite steed has not been right since she returned from Worcester.
She can't take him. The horse that came in last night is strong enough
to carry double, and I think would do very well."
"Ay, he is a good horse," replied the colonel, in a doubtful tone. "But
there are some objections to him."
"I don't see 'em," said the groom. "I wish your honour would just look
at him. I fancy he did some hard work yesterday, but he seems quite
fresh this morning."
The whole party then went to look at the horse, and he certainly seemed
to deserve the groom's praises.
As Charles went into the stall and patted him, the horse turned round
and whinnied gently, as if in recognition.
"He knows you, Will Jones," remarked Lutwyche.
"Ay, that's plain enough," replied the king. Then turning to Colonel
Lane, he added, "Your honour seems to have some objections to this
horse, or I would make bold to recommend him for the journey. Were
I allowed the choice, I should prefer him to any other horse in the
stable."
"Well, since you like him so much, Will, e'en take him," said the
colonel. "My sister ought to have been consulted on the point, but I
have no doubt she will be content."
"Here comes the fair lady herself," cried Lord Wilmot, as Jane entered
the stable.
While saluting the rest of the party, she looked round for the king,
and discovering him, greeted him with a smile.
Charles then came out of the stall, and making a rustic bow, inquired
whether she had any commands for him.
"I am glad to find thou hast arrived safely, Will," she said. "But I
have no special orders to give thee, except that thou must be ready to
start soon after breakfast."
"I shall be ready at any moment you may require me," replied Charles.
"Will this horse suit you, Jane?" asked her brother.
"Perfectly," she replied. "I have been admiring him ever since I came
into the stable. Since I cannot have my favourite steed, this will make
an excellent substitute. Where did you procure him?"
"Never mind where I got him," replied her brother. "I rode him at
Newport, and lost him there, but he has since been captured from a
Roundhead trooper, who might recognise him."
After consulting the king by a glance, Jane said, "I will have that
horse, and no other."
Colonel Lane shrugged his shoulders and went out of the stables,
followed by the others.
As soon as they were gone, Lutwyche said to the king:
"I don't want to know who you are, but I am certain you are not a
groom. Go into the house and breakfast comfortably. I will get all
ready for the journey."
Charles thanked him heartily, and telling him he placed entire faith in
him, quitted the stable, and proceeded to the house.
CHAPTER IV.
HOW WILL JONES BREAKFASTED WITH THE MEN-SERVANTS IN THE BUTTERY.
Entering the buttery hatch, the king found the men-servants assembled
at their morning meal. They were breakfasting very substantially on
cold roast beef and ale. Concluding that he was the new groom, they
asked him to join them, and Mr. March, the butler, who sat at the head
of the table, and was treated with much respect by the others, carved
him some slices of meat, and bade him fill his cup freely from the big
brown jug before him.
"You will find the ale good in this house, young man, I'll warrant
you," observed Mr. March, whose stout person showed that he drank
plenty of it himself. "We brew no small beer here. You are lucky in
getting the place, let me tell you--all the more lucky that our young
lady never before had a groom to attend her."
"That's very true, Mr. March," said one of the men. "Mistress Jane
would never ride on a pillion with old Lutwyche. This young man may
therefore consider himself highly honoured."
"Will Jones I believe is your name," said the butler. "Well, then,
Will, you look like an honest young man--a simple young man, I may
say--but you may be a very great rogue for all that." Here there was a
general laugh, in which Charles himself joined good humouredly. "Nay, I
mean no offence," pursued Mr. March. "I repeat, you look like an honest
young man, but you may be a Roundhead, and all Roundheads are rogues.
Am I not right?" he cried to the others.
General assent to the proposition.
"You see what sort of society you are in, young man, and can draw your
own conclusions," pursued the butler. "There may be good fellowship
amongst us, or there may not, according as we find you. What are your
principles--Royalist or Republican?"
"I am as staunch a Royalist as yourself, Mr. March," rejoined Charles,
sturdily.
"Give me your hand. Now that we know your principles, we can trust
you, and talk freely. This is a Royalist house. All within it are sworn
to the king. Our honoured master, the colonel, fought for his majesty
at Worcester, and we should have fought for him had we been there. Our
young mistress rendered the king great service."
"Ay, that she did," cried Charles, earnestly--"services he ought never
to forget."
"Ay, she's a brave young lady," said March, "and has more spirit in her
than many a man. If the king could be saved by a woman, Mistress Jane
is the one to do it."
"What has become of the king since Worcester fight?" inquired the
supposed groom.
"Thou canst keep a secret, Will Jones?--ha!"
"Ay, marry, can I," was the answer.
"But swear thou wilt not reveal what I shall disclose to thee."
"If an oath be necessary, I swear to keep silence."
"Then learn that his sacred majesty is in this house. He came here
yesterday. I recognised him at once, and let him see that I did so."
"Did he admit his high rank?"
"Not exactly--but he didn't deny it. Thou thyself hast seen him and
conversed with him!"
Will Jones expressed his astonishment.
"Yes, he went with thee to the stables this morning."
"Was that the king?" cried Will Jones. "I should never have thought it."
"Wherefore not? Undoubtedly the person in question is much handsomer
than his majesty is reported, for the Roundheads always paint him in
black colours--but 'tis the king I will maintain."
At this moment Careless entered the buttery, and looked around as if in
quest of some one.
"'Tis he!" exclaimed the butler, rising.
All the other servants rose at the same time, but Will Jones went on
quietly with his breakfast.
"Get up," said March, in a low tone. "I tell thee 'tis the king."
"I am not supposed to know him," replied Will Jones.
"Don't disturb yourselves, I beg," said Careless. "When thou hast
finished breakfast, Will, I want to speak to thee."
"I shall have done directly," rejoined the disguised groom, regardless
of the butler's glances.
"Was there ever such an oaf!" cried March, in a low voice. "Has your
majesty any commands that I can execute?" he added, stepping forward,
and making a profound obeisance to Careless.
"Hush!" exclaimed the other. "You will betray me."
"No fear of Will Jones, my liege," rejoined March. "A dolt, but trusty.
Your majesty may take him into your confidence."
"He knows who I am, then?" said Careless.
"He does, my liege. I made the revelation to him under a solemn pledge
of secrecy. I hope I have not done wrong."
"If a mistake has been made, 'tis too late now to remedy it," said
Careless.
"No harm has been done, I can assure your majesty. I'll answer for the
young man. Will Jones!" he cried, authoritatively, "dost not perceive
that thou art wanted?"
But the obstinate groom refused to move.
"Let him finish his breakfast, and then send him after me to the
stables," said Careless, quitting the buttery.
"Is this thy respect for the king, sirrah?" cried March, rushing to the
table, and snatching away the plate which the supposed Will Jones had
just filled. "Not another mouthful shalt thou eat. After his majesty at
once, and crave pardon for thy ill manners."
"He has interfered with my breakfast," grumbled Will Jones.
"Interfered with thee! Thou hast eaten too much already. Begone!"
But the imperturbable Will Jones deliberately filled a horn cup with
ale, emptied it, and then marched off, leaving the butler and the other
servants perfectly astounded at his coolness.
CHAPTER V.
HOW THEY SET OUT ON THE JOURNEY
About half an hour afterwards, Charles, fully equipped for the journey,
rode round from the stables to the front of the house. He was mounted
on the horse about which there had been so much discussion, and had a
pillion behind him, and a musket at the saddle-bow. He was accompanied
by Lutwyche, who was likewise mounted on a "double horse," intended for
Mr. Petre and his wife.
It may be incidentally remarked that this sociable and agreeable mode
of travelling was customary at the time, and continued to be common
enough in certain parts of the country up to the close of the last
century, and even later.
Having arrived in the middle of the night, Charles had scarcely
seen the old mansion, but while waiting with Lutwyche for the coming
forth of the party, he had an opportunity of examining it, and was much
struck with its aspect. Ordinarily, it must be owned the house had a
somewhat gloomy look, but it was seen to peculiar advantage on that
bright and cheerful September morning, and Charles thought he could
have passed a few days there very pleasantly, if his enemies would have
allowed him.
He was still surveying the house, noting its picturesque outline of
gables, when the front door was thrown open by March, the butler, and
several persons issued forth. Foremost among them was Mr. Petre, a
stout, hearty country gentleman, with nothing very remarkable about
him. Mr. Petre was of a good Buckinghamshire family, and was married,
as we have already intimated, to Jane Lane's elder sister. He was
closely followed by his wife, who possessed considerable personal
attractions, and behind Mrs. Petre came Jane Lane and her mother. Mrs.
Lane was a sister of Sir Hervey Bagot, of Blithfield, and a very fine
old gentlewoman.
The horses were now led to the door, and Mr. and Mrs. Petre having
mounted, the king's turn came. He was not very successful in his first
essay, and got sharply reprimanded for his awkwardness by Mrs. Lane.
Totally unacquainted with the real rank of the supposed groom, the
old lady had regarded him curiously, and was quite puzzled by his
appearance and manner. She felt sure he did not understand his work,
and wondered that Colonel Lane should engage such a man. But when Will
Jones in assisting his young mistress to mount her horse, despite all
hints given him, offered her the wrong hand, the old lady could no
longer contain herself, but called out:
"Why, how now, thou clumsy fellow! Art thou such a block-head as not to
know thy right hand from the left? Thou art not fit for thy place."
"Chide him not, dear mother," said Jane. "He has had but little
experience."
"So it would appear," replied the old lady, dryly.
"Excuse me, madam, I hope to do better in time," said Charles,
modestly. "I shall use my best endeavours to please my young mistress."
And as he spoke he sprang into the saddle with a grace and quickness
that surprised the old lady.
"By my troth, now that he has taken his seat on horseback, the fellow
looks like a Cavalier," remarked Mr. Petre to his wife.
"Yes; he may not understand the duties of a groom--but he sits a horse
well--that's certain," replied Mrs. Petre.
At this juncture, a large party appeared at the other end of the
terrace. Colonel Lane came from the stables accompanied by Lord Wilmot
and Careless, and followed by Randal, the head falconer, bearing on
his wrist a hawk in her hood and bewits. With Randal were two other
falconers, one of whom was furnished with a hoop on which two or three
hawks were perched, while the other had a hawking-pole and a couple of
spaniels in leash.
Of course, Colonel Lane and his friends were on horseback, and the
whole party, viewed in connexion with the old mansion, formed a
cheerful picture, which the king contemplated with undisguised pleasure.
"Methinks Will Jones would prefer joining that hawking-party to riding
on with me," remarked Jane, in a low voice.
Charles sighed, but made no other response.
At this moment Colonel Lane rode up to Mr. Petre, and said:
"Pray don't wait for us. We shall come on slowly, for we may chance on
a heron in the park, and we are certain to find plenty of partridges in
the corn-fields. We shall always be in your rear as a guard, and if we
don't overtake you before, we shall find you at Packington Hall, where
you will halt for a couple of hours."
Colonel Lane then rode up to Charles, and said, in a significant tone:
"Should anything happen on the road, Will, turn back and thou wilt find
us."
Charles promised obedience, and doffing his cap to Mrs. Lane, who was
exchanging adieux with Mr. Petre and his wife, rode on. Colonel Lane
and his party did not follow them for some minutes, and by that time
those in advance had nearly reached the gates of the park.
[Illustration: CHARLES AND JANE LANE SETTING OUT FROM BENTLEY HOUSE.]
On gaining the high road to Darlaston and Wednesbury, the horsemen
proceeded side by side, in order that the ladies might converse
together, and Jane did not seem to feel the king's presence as a
restraint, for she chatted very pleasantly with her sister. Charles,
of course, took no part in the conversation, and never spoke unless
addressed, but he was amused by what he heard. Mrs. Petre talked about
the events at Worcester, and wished to have a particular description of
the king from her sister.
"I have already described him to you," said Jane.
"Yes, you told me he did not realise the notions you had formed of him;
that his manner was somewhat light and reckless; and that he wanted the
gravity and dignity of his father."
"You must have misunderstood me," observed Jane, uneasily. "I said he
had many royal and noble qualities."
"But you added that he rarely displayed them."
"If I said so, I did him an injustice. I never think of his
majesty--never speak of him, save with enthusiasm."
"Colonel Lane is equally enthusiastic," remarked Mr. Petre. "In his
eyes the king has not a fault."
"He is a brave and chivalrous monarch," cried Jane, "and deserves far
greater success than he has obtained."
"I am sure I should know the king were I to see him," observed Mr.
Petre. "Colonel Lane has often described him to me as tall and
well-made, but harsh-featured, and dark as a gipsy."
"Why that description would exactly apply to Will Jones," said Mrs.
Petre.
"So it would," remarked her husband, laughing heartily.
Having passed through Wednesbury, they were now on the road to
Birmingham, but not desiring to enter the latter town, they soon struck
off into a by-road, which led them through a very beautiful country,
where one large park succeeded another, and the only houses that came
in sight were large and important. Most of the persons who resided in
these old mansions were friends of the Lanes, but Jane and her sister
called upon none of them, but pursued their journey for nearly three
hours without halt of any kind.
Hitherto they had encountered no obstacle of any kind, and Charles,
though he ran the greatest risk, enjoyed the ride far more than any
one else in the party. Without addressing him, Jane contrived to give
him such information as she thought would be interesting, and whenever
they skirted a large park, or came in sight of an ancient mansion, she
mentioned the name of the owner.
Mrs. Petre was lively and chatty, but her husband was full of secret
anxiety, being apprehensive, as we have said, of an encounter with
Roundhead troopers. This anxiety was entirely on his own account, for
he had no suspicion of the important charge committed to him. Had
he been consulted, we fear he would have shrunk from such a heavy
responsibility.
CHAPTER VI.
WHAT PASSED BETWEEN WILL JONES AND THE BLACKSMITH.
They were now in the fair county of Warwick, and only a few miles from
Packington Hall, the seat of Sir Clement Fisher. Crowning an eminence,
said to be as high as any ground in England, this fine old mansion
commanded a magnificent prospect over a most lovely country. From its
elevated position, the stately pile could be descried afar, and on
learning to whom it belonged, Charles regarded the house with great
interest, and was well pleased by reflection that Jane might one day
become its mistress. The mansion was embosomed in a grove haunted by
rooks, and the park contained much noble timber.
Suddenly Mr. Petre called out to the supposed groom:
"Why, Will, thy horse has cast a shoe. Luckily, we are near a village,
where thou wilt be sure to find a blacksmith."
Presently they came to a pretty little inn, very pleasantly situated on
the outskirts of the village, and having a large tree in front of it,
encircled by a bench. Here the party alighted, and Mr. Petre ordered a
pottle of sack, while Charles took his horse to the smithy, which was
at no great distance from the inn. Bryan Compton, the smith, was a big,
burly fellow, with a broad honest face begrimed by smoke. His brawny
arms were bared to the shoulder, and a leather apron was tied round his
waist. Pleased by his physiognomy, Charles took it into his head that
the man must be a Royalist, but in this he was mistaken. The blacksmith
proved to be a sturdy, outspoken Republican.
Not happening to be busy at the time, Bryan set to work at once, and
having selected an iron plate, was heating it in his forge, when
Charles asked him, "What news?"
"Nay, I ought to ask you that question," rejoined Bryan. "We hear but
little in this retired village, and I reckon it would be no news to
you to learn that that harebrained Charles Stuart has been routed at
Worcester. He deserved to be beaten if only for bringing the Scots to
England."
"You are right," said Charles, "and I think he must have found out his
mistake. It seems the Scots wouldn't stand by him."
"Stand by him! not they! They soon ran away from Old Noll. I hope
they're all driven out of the country."
"But I've heard say there were many English nobles and gentlemen with
Charles Stuart," remarked the king. "Have any of them been taken?"
"Not that I know of," replied the smith. "There's one person I should
like to capture," he added, working away vigorously at the bellows.
"Ah! who's he?" inquired the supposed groom.
"Charles Stuart himself," rejoined the smith, placing the red-hot iron
on the anvil and making the sparks fly about, as he hammered it into
shape. "I wish I had the chance of taking him--ha! ha! But he's not
likely to come this way." Then resting for a moment, he asked, "Where
do you come from, friend--and where may you be going?"
"I come from Bentley House with my young mistress, and am taking her to
Packington Hall," replied Charles, readily.
"Why, then, you must be Mistress Jane Lane's groom," observed the
smith. "The gossip hereabouts is that Sir Clement Fisher is betrothed
to her. But I don't think the marriage will take place just yet."
"Wherefore not?" inquired the king.
"Because Sir Clement has got himself into trouble by his foolish
adherence to Charles Stuart. He is sure to be heavily fined, if not
imprisoned. Why, you look confounded, young man. Hold up your horse's
foot while I clap on the shoe."
Charles complied, and nothing more passed between them until the smith
had completed his job, when he remarked:
"This is a good horse of yours, friend. He would go a long way without
tiring."
"Yes, I have ridden him a good many miles at a stretch" rejoined
Charles.
"Perchance from Worcester to Bentley House?" remarked the smith, with a
knowing look.
"Not quite so far as that," replied the king.
"Nay, I don't wish to appear inquisitive," said the smith. "I've heard
that Colonel Lane was at Worcester, and I thought you might have been
there with him."
"I am Mistress Jane Lane's servant, as I have already told you," said
Charles.
"Mistress Jane was at Worcester as well as her brother, unless I have
been misinformed," rejoined the smith.
Charles made no answer, but paid for the shoe, and departed.
"There's something odd about that young man," mused the smith, looking
after him. "I should like to have questioned him a little more.
However, I shan't forget him or his horse."
CHAPTER VII.
HOW THEY WERE RECEIVED AT PACKINGTON HALL.
Meanwhile, Colonel Lane and his two companions had come up, and when
Charles got back to the little inn, he found them seated on the bench
beneath the tree. After enjoying half an hour's good sport, they had
sent back the falconers with a few brace of partridges. Colonel Lane
filled a cup of sack for the king, who took it with a grateful bow
as beseemed the character he represented. Before they set off again,
Careless contrived to exchange a few words in private with his majesty.
On quitting the village, the party entered the extensive and beautiful
domains belonging to Packington Hall. The park contained a great deal
of fine timber, and several large sheets of water could be descried
through the trees, contributing greatly to its beauty. The charm of
the prospect was also heightened by the picturesque inequalities of
the ground--the uplands being crowned by trees. From all these heights
enchanting prospects could be obtained. The old mansion towards which
they were riding was frequently lost to view, owing to the intervention
of the trees, but reappeared with additional effect.
The party were within half a mile of the house, which was then in full
view, when they were met by Sir Clement Fisher, who had been anxiously
expecting their arrival.
Sir Clement looked somewhat depressed, but gave a warm welcome to his
friends, and conducted them to the house.
With a special view to the king's convenience, the party alighted in
the court-yard, and Sir Clement contrived that his majesty should
be relieved from any duties in the stable, and taken at once to the
buttery. It was excessively annoying to the loyal young baronet that he
could not attend to the king in person--but that was impossible. Even
with his other guests great caution was observed--Major Careless's name
was never mentioned, and Lord Wilmot's real rank was concealed from the
servants.
Dinner was served in the great hall immediately after the arrival of
the party. Circumstances seeming to necessitate a slight alteration in
the plans, it was now arranged that Colonel Lane, with Lord Wilmot and
Careless, should stay where they were, while the others proceeded, as
before settled, to Long Marston, in order to pass the night there.
Before Jane's departure an interview took place between her and her
suitor. They had walked to a retired part of the garden, but for some
minutes each remained silent. At length Sir Clement, looking at her
earnestly, said, "I know the courage of your nature, Jane, and I will
not, therefore, attempt to disguise from you the perilous position in
which I am placed. Had all gone well, I hoped to have made you mistress
of this house; but now you may never be mine."
"Do you say this to try me, Sir Clement?" she exclaimed, turning very
pale.
"Alas, there is no exaggeration in what I am saying to you," he
rejoined. "Before you return I may be a prisoner in Warwick Castle."
"If you deem yourself in such great danger, why do you not fly?" she
cried.
"No; I will stand my ground," he rejoined. "Those who come to arrest me
shall find me here. I am prepared to die for the cause I have espoused."
"Oh! do not talk thus, dear Sir Clement," she exclaimed. "You give me
credit for far more fortitude than I really possess. Again, I entreat
you to fly."
"My resolution is taken," he rejoined firmly, but sadly. "But I wished
to acquaint you with it, that you may judge me rightly. Our union may
be deferred for years, or it may never take place; but I regard you as
my wife."
"And if I wed not you, Sir Clement, be sure I will wed no other," she
rejoined. "I will not break my plighted troth. We must bear these heavy
trials with resignation, and perhaps we may be the better for them in
the end. Our affection will be severely tested, but my feelings will
undergo no change."
"Nor will mine," he added, taking her hand, and pressing it
affectionately to his lips. "Jane," he added, in accents that bespoke
his sincerity, "you are a noble girl. I always thought you so; but now
more than ever. Some men, incapable of estimating your character, might
be jealous of the devotion you display to the king, but I have no such
feeling. On the contrary, it excites my highest admiration. Nay, I
think I should not love you so well, were you less loyal."
"Hear, also, the truth from me, Sir Clement," cried Jane, in a tone of
exaltation; "I could but have loved you as I do, had you not been true
to the king. That you would approve my conduct I never doubted, because
you know my feelings, and can appreciate them; but I have also the
approval of my own heart, for I am sure I am acting rightly. This firm
conviction will sustain me through any trials that may be reserved for
me. I am vowed to one object--the king's deliverance from his enemies.
If I can accomplish it, I shall be content. Devoted loyalty like mine
is perfectly compatible with love, for, though I am engrossed by it at
present, it does not exclude the deeper feeling. Do you understand me?"
"Perfectly," he replied, clasping her to his breast. "You are my
own Jane. Go on with your task. You are destined to be the king's
preserver."
"I firmly believe so," cried a well-known voice that somewhat startled
them at first, for they had not heard the approach of the speaker. It
was the king, who had come to seek Jane, and had overheard the latter
part of their discourse.
"I firmly believe you are destined to be my preserver, Jane," he said,
stepping forward.
"I am not sorry that your majesty has heard the expression of my
opinions," said Sir Clement. "Jane is free to act as she will, and
I have no control over her; but had she been my wife, I should have
charged her to act as she is doing."
"You will not repent your confidence in her, nor your reliance on me,
Sir Clement," said Charles, with dignity. "All our difficulties will be
overcome in time, and then you will have the best wife in England. Nay,
be not cast down. 'Tis written that you shall be Jane Lane's husband.
'Tis written, also, that Jane shall be mistress of Packington Hall; for
should you be deprived of it, you shall have the house back again if I
come to the throne."
"Sire, after your gracious promise to me, I can no longer feel
uneasiness," cried Sir Clement, shaking off the gloom that had hitherto
oppressed him.
"As your groom," said Charles, bowing to Jane, "I come to inform you
that Mr. and Mrs. Petre are already mounted, and waiting for you in the
court-yard. Your own steed is ready."
Having delivered this message, he again bowed, and left the lovers
together.
They followed him almost immediately to the court-yard, where the rest
of the party were assembled.
After some consultation with his friends, the king had determined
to prosecute that day's journey without any additional attendance.
Careless would fain have gone on to Stratford-on-Avon, but his royal
master would not permit him, deeming it safer to proceed in this quiet
manner than with an attendance liable to attract attention, and that
might cause them to be stopped. It was therefore agreed that Lord
Wilmot and Careless should follow their royal master next day. This
could easily be done, as they knew the precise route he intended to
take. Colonel Lane, not being required, was to remain at Packington
Hall.
A tender parting between the lovers took place at the park-gates, which
Charles from his proximity was obliged to witness.
The party, comprehending the same persons as heretofore, rode on in
silence, and Charles fancied he saw tears stealing down Jane's cheeks;
but she chased them away, and soon afterwards recovered her composure,
and forced herself to enter into conversation with her sister and Mr.
Petre.
Their road led them through beautiful country, and the contemplation
of this charming scenery tended to tranquilise her mind. Sometimes
they mounted a gentle hill which gave them an extensive view over
wide-spread open fields, through which a river took its course,
fertilising the district, and adding greatly to its beauty. Several
mansions came within their ken; but the most picturesque feature of the
scene was an old castle standing on the banks of the river. The view
was so delightful that the party stopped for a few minutes to admire it.
As a scene that could not be beheld elsewhere than in England, it had a
special charm for the king, who gazed at it with undisguised rapture.
Chancing to look at him at the moment, Mr. Petre was struck by the
singular expression of his countenance.
"You seem to be greatly pleased by the prospect, Will," he cried. "Have
you never beheld it before?"
Charles made no reply, and Jane touched his arm to recal him to his
senses.
"Mr. Petre asks if you have ever beheld this view before," she said.
The supposed groom begged pardon, and said, "I was looking at yon old
castle, and thinking I should like to have it, with a few guns and a
dozen artillerymen."
"Why, what wouldst thou do with the castle, Will?"
"Hold it against Cromwell and the rebels," was the reply.
"Heaven help thee for a fool, Will!" cried Mr. Petre, laughing. "Thou
wouldst fare no better than the king fared at Worcester."
CHAPTER VIII.
HOW THEY WERE STOPPED BY THE TROOPERS AT WOOTTON WAWEN.
Once more the party were in motion, and they now proceeded along a
road skirted by high hedges, that for a time shut out the view of the
broad well-cultivated meadows on either side. For the most part, the
persons they encountered on their way were husbandmen and common folk.
Carts were frequently to be seen, and now and then a waggon with its
team of strong horses. Occasionally they met a farmer and his wife on a
"double horse," but none of the gentry of the neighbourhood. The latter
evidently deemed it prudent to keep at home. Mr. Petre often pulled
up to have a word with the husbandmen, and their talk was generally
concerning the battle of Worcester. Many sympathised with the king for
his misfortunes, and expressed concern at his defeat; but all blamed
him for bringing the Scots to England.
Thus they journeyed on through a rich agricultural district, past farms
and homesteads well stocked with cattle, till they came to a woody
tract that had once formed part of the forest of Arden, some vestiges
of which could yet be discerned. These woodlands offered a pleasant
contrast to the richly cultivated district just left behind, and having
skirted a park, they reached the picturesque old town of Henley in
Arden.
Here they halted, and while Charles, in his quality of groom, attended
to the horses, Jane and the others went to view the old cross which
then stood in the market-place. To support his character, Charles
thought it necessary to drink a pot of ale with the ostler; and the
man's tongue being loosened by the good liquor, he informed the king
that about two hours previously a troop of horse had passed through the
town on their way to Stratford-on-Avon.
"That doesn't matter to us, friend," said Charles. "We are on the right
side, and belong to the Parliament."
"An that be so, you'll be glad to hear that the malignant prince has
been captured," observed the ostler. "We shall have no further trouble
with him."
"That's too good news to be true I fear, friend," rejoined Charles.
"Where did you learn it?"
"From the troopers I've just mentioned. They couldn't be misinformed.
Charles Stuart was caught in a woodcutter's hut in Brewood Forest. He
fought so hard that it took ten men to secure him, and the reward will
be divided among 'em, consequently, they'll only have a hundred apiece.
Well, here's Old Noll's health, and hoping he may soon reign over us."
"Reign over us?" cried Charles.
"Ay, reign," said the ostler. "When he has cut off Charles Stuart's
head he'll be King of England. He has got the army with him, and can do
as he likes."
"He aims at the crown, I make no doubt," said Charles. "But here comes
my young mistress. She'll be greatly surprised to learn that Charles
Stuart is taken."
Having mounted their horses, the party quitted the little town and took
the road to Stratford-on-Avon.
Mr. Petre was a good deal alarmed on hearing that a troop of soldiers
had preceded them, but Jane sought to reassure him by saying that
they should be able to pass through the town without being noticed
by the men, and he made no more remarks till they drew near Wootton
Wawen, a small town about midway between Henley and Stratford. He then
discovered that some of the Roundheads must have halted in this little
town, as a dozen troopers, at least, were refreshing themselves at the
inn. It was impossible to avoid them, except by making a considerable
détour, and this the timorous gentleman declared he would do; and after
some discussion he actually turned back with his wife, while Jane and
the king rode boldly on towards Wootton.
As they approached the village, two mounted troopers barred the road,
and ordered the supposed groom to halt and give an account of himself.
Before Charles could answer, an officer, fully accoutred, came forth
from the inn with the evident intent of interrogating the travellers.
But Jane anticipated his design, and holding out a piece of paper,
exclaimed:
"I have a pass for myself and my man from Captain Stone, governor of
Stafford. Here it is."
The officer took the paper, and glancing at it, said, in a respectful
tone:
"You are the lady herein described, I presume?"
"I am Jane Lane, of Bentley House," she rejoined, haughtily. "This is
my servant, Will Jones."
"Has he been long in your service?" pursued the officer, fixing a keen
glance on Charles, who bore his scrutiny well.
"Not long," she replied. "He is a tenant of my brother's."
"Whither are you going?" he demanded. "I require a precise answer."
"I am going to Long Marston, the residence of my relative, Mr. Tombs,
and shall pass the night there," she rejoined. "Long Marston is four
miles beyond Stratford-on-Avon."
"I know the house," rejoined the officer. "Mr. Tombs is a notorious
malignant, but your pass is sufficient. You may proceed on your
journey."
Charles did not neglect the hint, but moved on instantly.
As soon as they were gone the officer said to the mounted troopers:
"Follow them, but at such a distance as not to cause alarm. Enter the
house where they stop, and examine the groom. I suspect him."
The troopers promised strict obedience to the command, and set off
cautiously after the travellers.
CHAPTER IX.
HOW THEY ARRIVED AT LONG MARSTON.
Apart from being the birthplace and the burial-place of Shakspeare,
Stratford-on-Avon had a special interest to Charles from the
circumstance that it had been the temporary residence of his mother,
Queen Henrietta Maria, who, in 1643--some eight years anterior to the
period of our story--entered the old town at the head of a large force,
and was subsequently joined there by Prince Rupert. Charles remembered
also that Stratford had been the scene of more than one sharp conflict
between the Royalists and the rebels, and that an arch of the old stone
bridge had been broken down by the latter to prevent the attacks of
their opponents. These reflections occurred to the king as he and his
fair companion halted within a quarter of a mile of the charming old
town.
Before them, on the opposite bank of the Avon, stood the ancient
church, in the vaults of which rest Shakspeare's hallowed bones. But
the bridge was guarded by a party of cavalry drawn up in front of it.
Nothing had been seen of Mr. Petre and his wife, since they had gone
off in another direction at Wootton, and Jane waited for them for
some time before entering Stratford; but as they did not make their
appearance she at last agreed to go on without them, and Charles rode
on towards the bridge.
Never in the conflicts that had taken place on that bridge during the
Civil War did Cavalier ride up to the enemy with bolder front than
the king now displayed. He was sharply examined by the troopers as he
advanced, but Jane, again producing her pass, answered the questions
of the officer in command so satisfactorily, that they were at once
allowed to pass. Moreover, she accomplished the liberation of her
brother-in-law and his wife, who had been detained till her arrival.
All difficulties being thus surmounted the party crossed the
bridge--noting that the broken arch had only been partially
repaired--and entered the old town in triumph. Under pleasanter
circumstances they might have been disposed to halt for a short time at
Stratford, and Jane, casting a longing look at the avenue of lime-trees
leading to the church, suggested a visit to the beautiful old fabric,
but Mr. Petre would not hear of it. Not to excite suspicion they rode
at a very deliberate pace through the town, being regarded with some
curiosity by the townsfolk, and frowned at by a few troopers collected
in the market-place; but as they had passed the ordeal of the bridge it
was presumed by those who watched them that they must be well affected
towards the Parliament.
Mr. Petre felt much easier in his mind when he got out of Stratford,
but chancing to cast a look behind him he saw a couple of troopers
pursuing the same course, and fancying they must be following him his
fears returned. He mentioned his apprehensions to his wife and Jane,
but they treated them very lightly.
For some little time the road pursued by the party lay along the banks
of the Avon, and offered delightful views of the town they had just
quitted, with its picturesque old church and bridge; but after they
had proceeded about a mile they quitted the gently-flowing river, and
struck across a wild district that presented but few attractions.
However, they were now not far from their destination, but before they
reached it the aspect of the country had materially improved.
A large, substantially-built farm-house of the better class, Long
Marston looked like what it was, the abode of an unostentatious
country gentleman. The transomed windows and arched doorway showed the
antiquity of the house. In front was a large pond bordered by trees,
and at the back there was an old-fashioned garden, and beyond that an
extensive orchard.
Evening was coming on as our travellers approached the house, and
coloured by the warm sunset the grey old structure appeared to great
advantage.
Of good family, and living upon his own estate, Mr. Tombs, the owner of
Long Marston, was blessed with a very amiable, affectionate partner,
so that we may venture to say that he was a happy man. He did not
keep a large establishment, but lived in a quiet, comfortable style,
and was thoroughly hospitable. With his rosy, handsome countenance,
beaming with health and good humour, and his stout figure, he looked
the personification of a country gentleman. Mrs. Tombs, who was
some years younger than her husband, was likewise rather stout, but
well-proportioned and comely.
Such was the well-assorted and kindly couple that greeted the party
on their arrival at Long Marston. They were very glad to see Mr. and
Mrs. Petre, but their warmest greeting was for Jane Lane, who was an
especial favourite with both of them. Of course, Mr. Petre had a good
deal to tell of the difficulties experienced at Wootton and Stratford,
and was congratulated on getting through them so well; but Jane made no
remarks, and indeed she was occupied at the moment in giving private
instructions to Charles, who was waiting for her orders.
"Don't neglect your horse, Will," she said, in a significant tone.
"Groom him well and feed him well. Don't gossip with the men at the
stables, but as soon as you have finished your work go to the kitchen."
Charles promised obedience, and took his horse to the stables, which
adjoined the house.
"That's a new groom, Jane," observed Mr. Tombs. "I don't recollect
seeing him before."
"You never saw me travel in this fashion before," replied Jane; "and
I shouldn't do so now if I could help it. But it is dangerous to go
alone."
"It's not safe to travel in any way in my opinion," observed Mr. Tombs.
"But you are a courageous girl, Jane. After your exploits at Worcester,
I shan't be surprised at anything you do--not even if you turn soldier."
"Nothing daunts her," cried Mr. Petre. "She would ride through the
rebel pack at Wootton."
"Though you didn't like to face them," laughed Mr. Tombs. "Well, I
should have acted in the same way myself. I don't mean to go near
Stratford, while it is occupied by the enemy."
"Nothing surprises me that Jane does," remarked Mrs. Tombs to Mrs.
Petre; "but I wonder you like to travel when you are constantly liable
to be stopped and maltreated by these Roundhead troopers."
"I don't like it, I assure you," replied Mrs. Petre. "But we want to
get back to our house in Buckinghamshire. If I could have anticipated
the annoyances I have met with I would never have left it."
"But you are going to Bristol, I understand, Jane?" said Mr. Tombs,
turning to her.
"I am going to the Nortons of Abbots Leigh," replied Jane. "Their place
is about three miles from Bristol. I would have postponed my visit to a
more convenient season--but I have something important to do."
"But I hope you mean to spend a day or two with us?"
"Quite impossible," rejoined Jane. "On my return I shall be delighted
to stay with you. But not now. I must start early in the morning."
"But you can't reach Abbots Leigh to-morrow."
"No, I shall pass the night at Cirencester."
"You can't do better," remarked Mr. Tombs. "There is a good inn there,
kept by a very worthy woman, Widow Meynell, who will take every care of
you."
"I know Widow Meynell very well," replied Jane, "and shall feel as much
at home with her as I do here."
"Well, let us go in-doors," said Mrs. Tombs, leading the way.
They then entered the house, which was larger and more commodious than
its exterior seemed to promise.
"You know your own room, Jane, so I needn't show you to it," said Mrs.
Tombs.
Jane tripped up the old oak staircase, while her sister and Mrs. Tombs
followed more leisurely.
CHAPTER X.
HOW CHARLES INCURRED THE COOK'S DISPLEASURE.
Having finished his work in the stable, the supposed Will Jones
proceeded to the kitchen, where he found Bridget the cook preparing
supper. Bridget was fat and not ill-looking, but something must have
gone wrong, for she did not accord the new-comer a very gracious
reception. The kitchen was large, occupying the entire ground floor of
one wing of the house, and was lighted on either side by deep mullioned
windows, filled with lattice panes. From the huge rafter supporting the
low ceiling hung a goodly collection of hams. At the further end was an
immense fireplace, before which, dangling from a jack, slowly revolved
a large joint of beef.
Charles saluted Bridget very respectfully, but she only just nodded her
head, and said:
"You're Will Jones, Mistress Jane Lane's groom, I suppose?" And
receiving an answer in the affirmative, she went on. "Well, then, make
yourself useful, Will Jones, and see that the meat is properly roasted.
I've plenty to do without attending to the jack."
Deeming it necessary to conciliate her, Charles marched at once to the
fireplace. All went well for a few minutes, when the jack stopped.
The king tried to put it in motion again but could not turn it. After
several attempts to set matters right, he gave up the task in despair,
when Bridget, who had been absent from the kitchen for a short time,
returned, and at once made aware that the meat was burning, she rushed
up, exclaiming furiously:
"Why, where have you been bred up, you lazy varlet, that you don't know
how to wind up a jack? I'll teach you to attend to my orders in future."
So saying she snatched up the ladle from the dripping-pan, and
threatened to belabour him with it.
"Come, come! my good woman," cried Charles, seizing her arm, "this is
carrying the joke a little too far."
"I'm not a good woman, and I won't be called one," exclaimed Bridget.
"And it's not a joke to spoil the meat, as my master will let you know."
And she struggled to get free, but the king held her fast.
At this juncture an interruption was offered by loud roars of laughter
proceeding from a couple of troopers standing at the kitchen-door.
Having approached unawares, they had witnessed the occurrence, and were
highly diverted by it. On beholding them Bridget instantly calmed down,
and the king released her. The troopers then stepped into the kitchen,
and the cook having set the jack going again, asked them what they
wanted.
"We have come in search of this young man," said one of them,
designating Charles. "We thought he might be a malignant, or, as
you would say, a Cavalier in disguise, but we now think we must be
mistaken."
"He a Cavalier!" exclaimed Bridget, scornfully, "no more a Cavalier
than I am. Go about your business directly, or I'll spoil your red
coats."
And she flourished the greasy ladle menacingly.
"Nay, nay, good Bridget," said Charles, trying to appease her. "Treat
them civilly; they have found out their mistake. Draw them a jug of
ale. They may give us trouble," he added, in a whisper.
This consideration brought the cook to reason, and she left the
kitchen, and presently returned with a foaming jug of ale. During her
absence the troopers had seated themselves at a table, and as it was
clear they would not depart without some refreshment, Bridget went back
for some cold meat and bread, while Charles poured out the ale. By the
time they had finished the cold meat the hot joint was ready, and they
insisted on having a few slices. Bridget did not dare to refuse, and
was also obliged to draw them another jug of ale. Charles waited upon
them and pleased them so much by his attention, that they went away at
last declaring he was a very honest young man, and had nothing of a
malignant about him.
Shortly afterwards, Mr. Tombs entered the kitchen, accompanied by Jane
Lane. Great consternation had been caused by the visit of the troopers,
but as the men conducted themselves so quietly and made no disturbance,
Mr. Tombs hoped they might be got rid of without any interference on
his part. At last he yielded to Jane's entreaties, and they went to the
kitchen together, and were greatly relieved by finding that the enemy
had departed.
"Look here, sir," cried Bridget, "here's a joint to send to table! But
it's not my fault. The rogues forced me to carve it for them."
"Never mind, Bridget," cried Mr. Tombs, laughing at her distress. "I'm
thankful they're gone. But what brought them here?"
"Most likely they only wanted a supper, sir," replied Bridget; "but
they pretended they came in search of that young man, declaring he was
a Cavalier in disguise."
"Ridiculous!" cried Jane. "Evidently a mere excuse to obtain a supper.
What did they say to thee, Will?"
"They put a few questions to me," replied the king. "But I soon
convinced them of their mistake."
"They were not very good judges," remarked Mr. Tombs, in a low tone
to Jane. "Now I look more narrowly at him, your groom has the air of
a gentleman. Besides, it is fair to tell you that my suspicions were
excited by the glance he threw at you as we came into the kitchen. Nay,
you need have no disguise with me."
The king's eyes were fixed upon them, and before making a reply Jane
consulted him by a look. She then took Mr. Tombs aside, so as to be
quite out of Bridget's hearing, and said in a whisper:
"You are right. Will Jones is not what he appears."
"I felt sure of it," rejoined Mr. Tombs in the same tone. "He must be
a person of the highest importance, for I know you would not run this
great risk for any one of inferior degree. I have my suspicions, but I
scarcely dare breathe them."
"Give them utterance," said Jane.
"Is it the king?" he asked.
"It is," she replied. "But be careful not to betray the secret by word
or gesture. You must not even take your wife into your confidence.
My sister and her husband are entirely in the dark, and must be kept
so, for Mr. Petre is not a fit depositary for a secret of this vast
importance."
"I feel the prudence of your counsel, Jane, and will follow it
strictly," said Mr. Tombs; "yet I can hardly refrain from throwing
myself at his majesty's feet. Had I known who is here, how alarmed I
should have felt at the visit of these troopers! Never should I forgive
myself if aught were to happen to the king while he is under my roof.
But I must see that he is attended to. Hark ye, Bridget, this young man
must have a good supper. Do you hear that?"
"Yes, I hear it, sir," she replied. "But he must wait till his betters
have been served. Begging Mistress Jane Lane's pardon, I must say that
a more ignorant fellow than her groom never came into a kitchen. He
can't even wind up a jack! Ah! if I had him under my care for a month
I'd work a change, I warrant him."
"Hold your peace, Bridget. Take good care of the young man, or you'll
displease me," said Mr. Tombs. "If thou art neglected, Will, complain
to me."
And fearing he might excite the cook's suspicions if he said more, he
quitted the kitchen with Jane.
But in spite of the worthy gentleman's injunctions, Charles obtained
nothing till the dishes were brought from the dining-room, when he was
allowed to sit down with the servants, and eat as much as he pleased.
A small couch in a small room served his turn that night, but he slept
very soundly, and waking early, hied to the stables to prepare for the
day's journey.
Charles was grooming his horse, when Mr. Tombs came into the stable,
and making an excuse to send his men away, expressed his profound
regret that he had not been able to pay his majesty more attention.
"I have not done more," he said, "because I fear to trust my household."
"I quite understand your motives, Mr. Tombs, and appreciate them," said
Charles. "And pray understand that it was from no want of faith in your
loyalty, which was vouched for by Jane, that you were not trusted
with the secret from the first. It was simply to spare you trouble and
anxiety; and believe me, I am just as much obliged as if you had made
preparations for my security. For this reason I counselled Jane to keep
silence; but I am not sorry the disclosure has been made, since it
affords me an opportunity of speaking to you freely. My object, as you
will have conjectured, is to quit the country as speedily as I can, and
take refuge in France, and for this purpose I am going to Bristol under
the care of this devoted girl, who is hazarding her life for me. You
have been an involuntary agent in the scheme, Mr. Tombs, and I hope you
will have no reason to regret taking part in it."
"Whatever betides, it will always be a matter of proud satisfaction to
me that your majesty has found shelter at my house during your flight.
That you have not been received in a more worthy manner is not my
fault, but the fault of circumstances."
"You have done all that I could desire, Mr. Tombs," said Charles; "and
I pray you to pursue the same course to the moment of my departure.
Treat me as Jane Lane's groom, and nothing more. Do not stay here
longer, or you may excite suspicion."
"Your majesty shall be obeyed," replied Mr. Tombs.
And with a profound obeisance he withdrew.
When he had finished dressing his horse, Charles quitted the stables
and found his way to the kitchen, where he met with a better welcome
from Bridget than he had experienced overnight. He had found his way to
her good graces at supper, and she now gave him an excellent breakfast.
Anxious, for many reasons, to start at an early hour, Jane made a
hasty breakfast in her own room, and without waiting to take leave of
Mrs. Tombs or the Petres, who had not yet made their appearance, went
in quest of Mr. Tombs, whom she found in the garden. He told her what
passed between him and the king, and how distressed he felt that he
could not render his majesty any real service.
"If you think I can be of any use I will accompany you on your journey
to Bristol," he said. "I did not propose this to his majesty but I am
ready to set out at once if you deem my attendance desirable."
"I need not consult the king on the subject, because I know what his
decision would be," she rejoined. "His plans are settled, and he would
not care to change them. Besides, your sudden departure would occasion
remark among the household, and might draw suspicion upon us. Your wife
would think it strange, for you could not explain your motives to her.
No, believe me, you are far better at home at this critical juncture.
Some unforeseen difficulty may occur after the king's departure;
another visit may be paid by the troopers, and your presence may be
required to check indiscretion on the part of the servants. Were the
Roundhead rogues to learn that you had gone on with us they would
inevitably follow, and then there is no telling what the consequences
might be. You can best serve the king by remaining at home. I will
acquaint his majesty with your proposal, as well as with my reasons for
declining it."
No more was said, for noticing that Charles had brought the horse
from the stables, they proceeded towards him. In another minute Jane
was seated on the pillion behind the king. As some of the other
servants were standing by, Mr. Tombs was exceedingly cautious in his
observations.
"I wish you a safe and pleasant journey, Jane," he said; adding to the
supposed groom, "be sure to take good care of your young lady, Will."
"Fear nothing, sir," replied the king, doffing his cap respectfully.
And as Mr. Tombs drew somewhat nearer, he added, in a low tone, "when
you next hear of me I trust it will be from France."
Bidding her relative adieu, Jane ordered Will Jones to go on, and
accompanied by many fervent prayers for the king's safety, murmured in
secret by Mr. Tombs, they soon gained the road to Chipping-Campden.
End of Book the Fifth.
Book the Sixth.
ABBOTS LEIGH.
CHAPTER I.
HOW THE TWO GROOMS CHANGED HORSES AT STOKE-ON-THE-WOLD.
A fine, fresh, autumnal morning gladdened Charles and his fair
companion as they set out from Long Marston. The king was in excellent
spirits, and laughed at his adventures on the previous night. After
passing Church Honeybourne and Weston Subedge, they ascended Dover's
Hill, on which the renowned Cotswold Games, sung by Ben Jonson and
Drayton, were celebrated in the time of the king's grandsire, but were
discontinued on the outbreak of the Civil Wars. While crossing this
hill, which had been the scene of so many pleasant gatherings in former
days, Charles promised himself that if he ever ruled the land those
manly sports should be revived. From this eminence they looked down
upon the fair and fertile valley in which Chipping-Campden is situated,
and after enjoying the delightful prospect for a short time, they
descended from the uplands and rode towards the pleasant old town.
Chipping-Campden, at the period of our story, was a great mart for
wool; and it chanced that on this very day a large sheep fair was
held in the vicinity of the town. Numerous flocks of sheep driven by
shepherds and attended by farmers, mounted on horses as rough-looking
as themselves, beset the road.
As Charles rode on, hoping to pass through the throng unmolested, the
sheep-breeders pressed around him, each vaunting the excellence of his
fleeces, and affirming that he had the best sheep on the Cotswolds.
Jane took upon herself to answer, and explained that they were merely
travellers, and did not desire to purchase wool. The explanation did
not prove altogether satisfactory, and the churlish farmers began to
eye the supposed groom suspiciously.
"Thee warn't bred on the Wowlds," remarked one of them. "Where dost
come from?"
"Why, thou'rt as fierce as a Cotswold lion, and that's a sheep,"
rejoined Charles. "What be it to thee where I come from?"
"Thou look'st as sharp as if thou lived on Tewkesbury mustard," cried
the farmer.
"And I should take thee to be a man of Dursley," responded Charles, who
was acquainted with some of the local proverbs.
"Why, there he has hit thee, Guy Naunton," cried another of the
farmers. "I never knowed thee keep a promise."
"I never broke my word to thee, Mat Mickleton, or to any one else,"
rejoined Naunton, angrily.
"Did any of you ever join the sports on Dover's Hill?" cried Charles.
"Why dost ask?" cried Mickleton.
"Because I would challenge one and all of you to run, leap, wrestle, or
use the quarter-staff," rejoined Charles.
"There be no more Cotswold Games now--more's the pity!" cried
Mickleton. "But I be ready and willing to try a bowt with thee at
quarter-staff."
"No, no, Will Jones," interposed Jane. "Pass on thy way. Thou wilt get
into a brawl with these men."
"Thy groom be a saucy knave, and shall give an account of himself to
the town bailiff," said Naunton.
"Keep thy hands off my bridle, or I will lay my whip on thy shoulders,"
cried Charles, sharply.
"Contain yourself, or we shall have a quarrel," whispered Jane,
beginning to feel alarmed at the menacing looks thrown at the king.
"Let me go, I beg of you," she added aloud to the others. "I have a
pass for myself and my servant."
"Show it to the bailiff," rejoined Naunton. "We'll take you to him."
Chipping-Campden consisted of a single street of some length, in the
centre of which stood the Court-house and the Market-house. Owing to
the fair the little town was very full, and the concourse collected in
the market-place stared hard at the strange cavalcade as it approached,
the general impression being that a fugitive Cavalier had been captured.
Informed that an arrest had been made, the bailiff, as the chief
magistrate of the place was styled, came forth from the Court-house,
to ascertain particulars, and when an explanation had been given him,
and Jane's pass produced for his inspection, he directed that the lady
should be allowed to proceed on her journey without further hindrance.
"As you have thought fit to stop her without authority," he said to the
farmers, "my order is that you make amends by conducting her to the
further end of the town."
This was done, and Charles and his fair companion got safely out of
Chipping-Campden.
Skirting Northwick Park, and passing over the bleak downs beyond
Blockley, they reached Bourton-on-the-Hill, where they halted for a
short time. Being now among the wolds, they had nothing before them but
a succession of low, rolling downs, which afforded excellent pasture
for sheep, but were entirely uncultivated, and covered with great
patches of furze. Not a village was to be seen for miles--only, here
and there, a solitary farm-house or a shepherd's cot.
On mounting the lofty hill on which Stow-on-the-Wold is situated,
the travellers obtained an extensive view of the wild district they
had just traversed. Stow-on-the-Wold is said to want three of the
elements--fire, earth, and water. How this may be we know not, but
air it can never lack, seeing that it is exposed to all the winds of
heaven. Bleaker place cannot be found. What the old town might be like
in winter, when the hill on the summit of which it was perched was
covered with snow, and when the bitter north wind howled round the
corners of the houses, and found its way through every window and door,
Charles did not care to consider. It looked pleasant and cheerful now,
with the sun shining brightly on the quaint old buildings, and upon the
pinnacles of the lofty church tower.
Riding up to the hostel, which bore the sign of the Three Choughs, our
travellers alighted, and while Charles took the horse to the stables,
Jane put herself under the care of the landlady--a decent middle-aged
dame--and was conducted by her to a private room, where refreshments
were soon afterwards set before her.
As Charles was returning from the stable, another arrival took place,
that brought forth host and hostess. A second groom, with a young dame
seated behind him on a pillion, had ridden up to the inn door.
Great was the king's astonishment on discovering that the new-comers
were no other than Careless and Dame Gives, the latter having resumed
the habits of her sex, while the former had put on a disguise similar
to his own. On beholding the king, Dame Gives called out:
"Ah, Will Jones, I am glad to see thee. My man, Tom Elton, has ridden
hard to overtake thee and thy young mistress, and at last he has
succeeded."
"I did not know you were following us, madam, or I would have stopped,"
replied Charles. "My young lady is in the house."
"She is partaking of a slight repast within, madam," remarked the
hostess. "Shall I take you to her?"
Dame Gives then alighted and entered the house, while Charles and
Careless marched off together to the stable. As soon as he could
find an opportunity Careless explained the cause of his unexpected
appearance, as well as the object of his disguise.
"Those confounded troopers, Ezra and Madmannah, are following your
majesty," he said; "and I have adopted this disguise to baffle them.
Evidently, the object of the rogues is to secure to themselves the
whole of the reward offered for your apprehension, and they will not,
therefore, let any of their comrades into their plan. Had they done so
you must have been captured. That Worcester horse has been the main
cause of their getting on your track. The blacksmith at the little
village near Packington Park described the horse you had brought
to his smithy, and Madmannah at once knew it to be his own. Having
obtained this information, they came to Packington Hall, and owing to
that piece of imprudence I discovered their plans, and immediately
started after them. They went on to Henley-in-Arden, to Wootton, and
Stratford-on-Avon, where they passed the night. At Stratford I was
fortunate enough to meet with Dame Gives, and she suggested the plan to
me, which, as you see, I have put into execution. Everything necessary
to carry it out was procured at Stratford, the groom's dress I now
wear, and the pillion for Dame Gives, who readily agreed to accompany
me. All that now remains to be done is that your majesty and myself
should change horses, and then I will undertake to put the rogues on a
false scent."
"Oddsfish! 'tis an excellent plan!" cried Charles, laughing heartily.
"No wit like a woman's wit, and Dame Gives is as sharp-witted as any of
her sex."
Careless then proceeded to inform the king that he had left
Stratford-on-Avon before sunrise, so that as far as he could judge they
must be considerably in advance of the troopers.
"I give your majesty half an hour here--not longer," said Careless.
"Half an hour will suffice," said the king. "But let us in at once. I
feel outrageously hungry."
Entering the house, they called out lustily for something to eat,
whereupon a cold meat pie and the remains of a ham were set before
them. On these they set to work, and in less time than had been allowed
by Careless had entirely demolished the pie and emptied a jug of ale.
They had just finished their repast when the hostess informed them that
the ladies were ready to start, whereupon they proceeded to the stable
and changed horses, as agreed upon.
Meanwhile, Dame Gives had fully explained matters to Jane, who
quite approved of the plan. On coming forth she made no remark, but
unhesitatingly took her seat behind the king, who was now mounted
on the horse previously ridden by Careless. Dame Gives was equally
expeditious in her movements, and the two grooms setting off at once,
the change of steeds was unnoticed by the host and hostess.
Before descending the hill Careless surveyed the country round, but
could descry nothing of the pursuers.
Leaving the old mansion of Maugersbury on the left, they entered a
pleasant valley, watered by a clear trout-stream, and proceeded along
the old Roman Foss Way. After crossing Stow Bridge, they passed a
charming little village through the midst of which ran the trout-stream
before mentioned, and shaped their course towards Bourton-on-the-Water.
Nothing could be pleasanter than this part of the ride, and enlivened
by the cheerful companionship of Careless and Dame Gives, Charles for a
time gave vent to his natural gaiety, and seemed quite to forget that
the enemy was on his track.
Though apparently quite as unconcerned as his royal master, Careless
kept a sharp look-out. Nothing, however, had occurred to cause them
alarm. After passing through the pretty town of Bourton-on-the-Water,
the houses of which are built on either side of the river Windrush,
they returned to the Foss Way, which they had temporarily quitted.
CHAPTER II.
HOW CHARLES TOOK SHELTER DURING A STORM IN RATS ABBEY BARN; AND HOW HE
DELIVERED CARELESS AND DAME GIVES FROM THE TROOPERS.
Once more they were in the midst of bleak and barren wolds, and were
pressing on towards North leach, when they perceived a small detachment
of cavalry coming along from that town.
As they were in sight of the enemy, to quit the road or turn back,
would only be to invite pursuit, so they went boldly on, hoping they
might not be stopped.
The officer in command of the troop ordered them to halt, and
interrogated them very sharply. With Jane's pass he was satisfied, and
after a brief parley permitted her and her groom to proceed on their
way. Reluctant to abandon his friends, Charles rode slowly on, but he
soon found it necessary to accelerate his pace. The two troopers, Ezra
and Madmannah, who were on his track, had now appeared in sight, and
judging that nothing but instant flight could save him, he quitted the
Foss Way, and rode off into the wolds.
Meantime, the officer in command of the detachment had come to the
determination of arresting Dame Gives and her supposed servant, and
he was about to send a guard with them to Northleach, when the two
troopers came up. At once recognising the horse, they felt sure the
disguised groom must be the king, and fearful of losing their prize
they made no remark, but immediately offered to take charge of the
prisoners and conduct them to Northleach. Greatly to the satisfaction
of the cunning troopers, their proposal was accepted.
Committing the prisoners to their charge, the officer rode off with
his men, while the two troopers, secretly exulting in their good
fortune, and feeling now secure of their prize, placed the supposed
royal captive between them, resolved to take him to Bristol, and there
deliver him up to the commander of the garrison, and claim the rich
reward.
Meanwhile Charles, finding he was not pursued, made his way across the
wolds in the direction of Northleach, and passing on the right of that
town, which was then an important mart for cloth and wool, returned
to the Foss Way. Unable to ascertain what had become of Careless and
Dame Gives, the king was greatly concerned that he could render them no
assistance.
The morning, as we have already intimated, had been extremely fine,
but within the last hour a change had taken place, and the blackness
of the heavens portending a heavy thunder-storm, Charles looked about
anxiously for a place of shelter.
They were again on the Foss Way, with nothing but the bare wolds spread
out around them, like the billows of a tempestuous sea.
Jane pointed out a solitary barn about a quarter of a mile off on the
left, and as soon as he could descend from the elevated road which he
was tracking, Charles rode quickly in that direction.
Just as they reached the barn the storm came on with great violence.
The flashes of lightning were almost incessant, the peals of thunder
awfully loud, and the rain came down in torrents.
It was now so dark that except for the lightning they could not see
many yards before them, and as Charles rode into the barn through the
open door, he called out to ascertain whether anyone was within, but
no answer being returned he dismounted, and after assisting Jane to
alight, led his horse to a stall at the further end of the barn, and
fastened him up. This done, he returned to Jane.
Almost deafened by the peals of thunder, they were looking out through
the open door upon the wolds, and watching the progress of the
storm, when a brighter flash than any that had gone before revealed a
startling spectacle.
"Gracious heavens!" ejaculated Charles, "either my eyes deceived me, or
I saw Careless and Dame Gives guarded by a couple of troopers."
"You were not deceived, sire," replied Jane. "I saw them distinctly.
Their captors are evidently coming to seek shelter here."
As she spoke, another brilliant flash revealed the party.
"You are right, they are about to take shelter in this barn," said
Charles. "The rogues must not find us. It shall go hard if I do not
contrive to liberate the prisoners."
In another minute the party arrived at the door of the barn. Ezra rode
in first, and was followed by the captives, while Madmannah brought up
the rear, and posted himself at the entrance to prevent any attempt
at escape. However, he did not remain there long, but jumped from his
horse, declaring that the lightning had well-nigh blinded him.
Meanwhile the others had dismounted, but Ezra kept strict guard over
the prisoners.
"If thy life is of value to thee thou wilt keep quiet," he said to
Careless.
"Are we alone here?" cried Madmannah in a loud voice. "What ho! is
there any one in the barn?"
"Ay," replied a voice that sounded like that of a countryman, "I be
here, Sam Cubberly, of Scrubditch Farm. Who may you be, and what are
you doing in Rats Abbey Barn?"
Struck by the oddity of the response, Careless began to think that a
friend was at hand.
"Methinks thou art mocking us, Sam Cubberly," cried Ezra. "Come forth,
and show thyself, or I will prick thee with my pike."
A derisive laugh was the only response to this threat, and his choler
being roused, he marched towards the back of the barn in search of the
audacious rustic. But he had not got far, when an athletic young man
suddenly sprang upon him, seized him by the throat, and disarmed him.
Hearing the disturbance, and at once comprehending what was taking
place, Careless made an instant attack on Madmannah, and not only
succeeded in depriving him of his weapons but forced him to the ground.
Material assistance was given by Dame Gives, who prevented the trooper
from using his carabine, and now held it at his head.
"Shall I shoot him?" she asked, in a tone that showed she was in
earnest.
"Ay, shoot him through the head if he stirs," rejoined Careless.
He then flew to the spot where the king was engaged with Ezra, and
between them they dragged the trooper back to his comrade.
"Our safety demands that both these villains be instantly despatched,"
said Careless. "They have justly forfeited their lives."
"Truly, they deserve death, yet I am inclined to spare them," said
Charles. "Hark ye, rogues," he continued; "will you swear to desist
from this pursuit if your lives be given you?"
Both readily responded in the affirmative.
"Trust them not," said Careless; "they have broken half a dozen oaths
already."
"But we will not break this," said Ezra. "We will hold our peace as to
all that we have seen and heard, and go back to Colonel James."
By this time the fury of the storm had abated. The thunder had rolled
off to a distance, and though the lightning still flashed, the rain had
entirely ceased.
"The storm has cleared off," observed Jane Lane, in a low tone to the
king. "There is nothing to prevent our departure."
"Then we will not remain here a moment longer," he rejoined. "We must
deprive these rascals of the means of following us," he added to
Careless; "we will take their horses."
"Take their lives as well as their horses. You are dealing far too
leniently with them," said Careless.
Fancying all was over with them, the two wretches besought mercy in
piteous terms.
"Stand back, then," cried Charles, fiercely; "and do not stir till we
are gone, or you will rush upon your death."
The troopers moved back as enjoined, but Careless did not like their
looks, and called out to them:
"Further back, or we will shoot you!"
The order was quickly obeyed.
At a sign from Charles, Jane Lane and Dame Gives then quitted the barn,
and were immediately followed by the king and Careless, each leading a
couple of horses.
As soon as the party had mounted, they returned to the old Roman road,
crossed the Foss Bridge over the Coin, and then proceeding for a couple
of miles further, turned the troopers' horses loose on Barnsley Wold.
CHAPTER III.
WHAT PASSED IN THE BARBER'S SHOP AT CIRENCESTER.
The storm having now entirely passed away, the sun came forth again.
Though the district through which they were travelling was exceedingly
wild, it was solitary, and that gave it a special charm in the eyes of
the fugitive monarch and his attendants. Occasionally a large flock of
sheep could be seen among the wolds, with a shepherd tending them, but
nothing more formidable.
As they approached Cirencester, which was to be the term of their day's
journey, the aspect of the country improved, and they passed two or
three large mansions surrounded by parks.
Far more important, and infinitely more picturesque in appearance, was
this ancient town in the middle of the seventeenth century, than at
the present time. The castle, celebrated for many historical events,
had been demolished, but the walls surrounding the town were still
standing, and the streets were full of old timber houses, most of
which, we regret to say, have since disappeared. Even the old inn,
where Charles and his companions rested for the night, has vanished.
Notwithstanding these changes, which some may deem improvements, though
we cannot regard them in that light, Cirencester (_vulgo_, Ciceter)
is a quiet, clean-looking country town, possessing a half-antique,
half-modern air, and boasts the finest parochial church, with the most
elaborately ornamented porch, in Gloucestershire. Let us mention that
the interior of this stately fabric has been admirably restored of late
years.
Passing through the gate without hindrance of any kind, our travellers
rode along a narrow street to the market-place. The king was struck by
the dull and deserted appearance of the town, but its quietude pleased
him.
On reaching the market-place, he halted for a moment to gaze at the
richly-decorated church porch we have just mentioned. Not far from
the church stood the Chequers--the inn at which they intended to
put up--and proceeding thither, the party alighted, and were warmly
welcomed by the hostess, Dame Meynell, who was delighted to see Jane,
and conducted her and Dame Gives into the house, where every attention
was shown them.
After partaking of a light repast they retired to rest. Charles and
Careless were of course treated according to their supposed condition,
but no guest, whatever might be his degree, fared badly at the
Chequers, and they were supplied with some marrow-puddings and fried
eels and a pottle of excellent sack. Not caring to sit among the other
guests, they went out, after supper, to take a stroll through the town.
Night having now come on, they could not see much, so after rambling
about for half an hour they returned to the market-place, and entered a
barber's shop which Charles had noticed near the inn.
Not expecting any more customers at that hour, the barber, a
sharp-looking middle-aged man, was about to shut up his shop, but he
deferred his purpose when the two grooms came in, and one of them--it
was the king--seated himself in the chair ordinarily assigned to
customers, and desired to be shaved.
"'Tis getting late," observed the barber; "cannot you come in the
morning?"
"No," replied Charles, "my young mistress starts early. I must be
shaved now."
Trimming a lamp that hung overhead, the barber made all necessary
preparations for the task.
While he was thus occupied, Careless, who was seated on a bench,
observed the man look inquisitively at his customer, and began to
regret that they had entered the shop.
"You have been accustomed to wear moustaches and a pointed beard, I
perceive, friend," remarked the barber, as he covered the king's cheeks
and chin with lather; "and I am of opinion that the fashion must have
suited you." And as Charles made no reply, he went on: "Yours is a face
that requires a beard--a pointed beard, I mean, such as the Cavaliers
wear----"
"But Will Jones is not a Cavalier any more than I am," interrupted
Careless.
"'Tis not an ill compliment, methinks, to say that both of you--despite
your attire--might pass for Cavaliers," said the barber.
"We do not desire to be taken for other than we are--simple grooms,"
said Careless. "Prithee, hold thy peace, unless thou canst talk more to
the purpose, and proceed with thy task."
"Nay, I meant no offence," said the barber. "I only wish you to
understand that you need make no mystery with me. I am a true man, and
not a Roundhead."
He then plied his razor so expeditiously that in a trice he had
finished shaving the king.
As he handed Charles a napkin and ewer, he said, in a tone of profound
respect:
"I ought to know that face."
"Where canst thou have seen me, master?" rejoined the king. "I have
never been in thy shop before."
"'Tis not in Ciceter that I have seen you," said the barber, still in
the same profoundly respectful tone; "but in a far different spot, and
under far different circumstances. Little did I think that I should be
thus honoured."
"No great honour in shaving a groom," cried Charles.
The barber shook his head.
"No groom has entered my shop this night," he said, "and no groom will
leave it. Whatever opinion may be formed of me, let it be understood
that I am no traitor."
"Nay, thou art an honest fellow, I am sure of that," observed Charles.
"I am a loyal subject of the king," said the barber, "and were his
majesty to come hither I would aid him to the best of my power."
"Were thy suspicions correct, friend," said Charles, "thou must feel
that I could not satisfy them. Think what thou wilt, but keep silence."
He was about to place a pistole on the table, but the poor man looked
so pained that he stretched out his hand to him. The barber sprang
forward, and pressed the king's hand to his lips.
At a very early hour next morning all the party quitted Cirencester,
and again tracked the old Roman road across the plain.
They had a long day's journey before them, Bristol being thirty-one
miles distant from Cirencester, while Abbots Leigh was four miles
beyond Bristol. The morning was delightfully fresh, and the woody
district they were traversing offered charming views.
After awhile they left the Roman way, and pursued a road at the foot of
a range of low hills, and in less than two hours arrived at Tetbury,
where they halted. As they had been unable to breakfast at Cirencester,
owing to the early hour at which they started, they were now very glad
to repair the omission. Jane and Dame Gives, of course, breakfasted
in private, but the two grooms, after seeing to the horses, repaired
to the kitchen, where they astonished the host by their prowess as
trencher-men.
After an hour's halt at Tetbury the party set forth again. Passing
High Grove and Doughton, and then riding on to Westonbirt Bottom,
they skirted Silk Wood, and continued their course till they reached
Didmarton.
During this part of the journey they had met with no interruption.
Indeed, there seemed no troopers on the road. On quitting Didmarton
they passed Badminton Park, in which, at a subsequent period, the
magnificent mansion belonging to the Duke of Beaufort has been erected,
and rode on through the woods and past the fine old manor-house of
Little Sodbury to Chipping-Sodbury, where they again halted to refresh
themselves and rest their steeds.
Their road now led them past Yate, and through Wapley Bushes to
Westerleigh. Thence they proceeded by Hanborow and Stapleton, and
crossing an old stone bridge over the river Frome, rode on to Bristol.
CHAPTER IV.
BRISTOL IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.
Surrounded by walls, above which rose its picturesque timber
habitations and numerous fine churches, Bristol, at the period of
our history, presented a very striking appearance. So closely packed
together were the houses, that viewed from the neighbouring heights
they seemed to form a solid mass, and indeed the majority of the
streets were so narrow that they were little better than lanes.
Through the midst of the city ran the Avon, the river being crossed by
an ancient stone bridge, with houses on either side like old London
Bridge. On the north-west the city was bounded by the river Frome, and
it was here that the chief quay had been formed, ships of very large
burden being able to come up the Avon with the tide. On the east the
city was protected by the castle, a very large pile, surrounded by
a broad, deep moat, and approached by a drawbridge. Near the castle
was a strong fort of modern construction, in which there was a large
garrison. Four years later both castle and fort were demolished by
the Parliament. On the west the fortifications were in tolerably good
repair. But between the western walls and the Avon there was a wide
marsh, which extended to the left bank of the Frome, near its junction
with the larger river. In recent times, this marshy ground has been
converted into large docks and basins, and surrounded by warehouses.
The south side of the city was likewise protected by strong walls,
extending to either bank of the Avon, which here made a wide curve.
Both St. Augustine's and St. Mary Redcliffe, justly esteemed the most
beautiful church in the kingdom, were outside the walls. From its
elevated position, St. Augustine's, as the cathedral was then called,
formed a conspicuous object from the north and west. The city was
approached by four gates: on the north by Frome-gate, and on the south
by Temple-gate, New-gate, and Redcliffe-gate, the latter leading to the
grand old fane before mentioned. What with its many beautiful churches,
incomparable St. Mary Redcliffe, the castle, the old walls, the ancient
houses, and the two rivers, Bristol, in the olden time, was a most
striking and picturesque city, and its inhabitants were justly proud of
it.
During the Civil Wars, Bristol had played a conspicuous part, and
was justly accounted the chief Royalist stronghold in the West, and
though it was frequently in the hands of the Parliamentarians, it still
preserved a character for loyalty. Charles was well acquainted with
the city, having been taken there by his royal father in August, 1643,
when it capitulated to Prince Rupert, who had besieged it with twenty
thousand men. Though but a boy at the time, Charles had been greatly
impressed by the loyalty of the men of Bristol, and entertaining the
belief that a large portion of them must still be faithful to his
cause, though they did not dare to manifest their zeal, he approached
the city without much misgiving.
Our travellers were stopped and questioned by the guard stationed at
Frome-gate, but Jane Lane's pass sufficed, and they were soon mounting
a steep narrow street bordered by tall timber houses, with overhanging
stories, leading to the centre of the city.
It had been arranged that the party should separate at Bristol. Dame
Gives had some relatives dwelling in Wine-street, with whom she could
take up her abode, while Careless meant to fix his quarters at the Lamb
Inn in West-street till he should receive a summons from the king.
Charles and his fair companion did not intend to remain at Bristol, but
to proceed at once to Abbots Leigh, which, as already mentioned, was
distant about four miles from the city.
In accordance with this plan they now separated, and Careless, having
consigned Dame Gives to her friends, proceeded to the Lamb Inn.
Having crossed the old bridge, and tracked the long, narrow street
to which it led, Charles and his fair companion passed out at
Redcliffe-gate, and after halting for a short time to gaze at the
superb old church, shaped their course along the left bank of the Avon.
How changed is now the scene! Where a vast floating harbour has been
formed, constantly filled with ships from all parts of the world, and
surrounded by busy wharves and enormous warehouses, only the river
flowed through its deep channel, with very few buildings near it.
After a long ascent, the travellers reached the uplands on the left
bank of the Avon--then, as now, covered with magnificent timber. Half
an hour's ride through these romantic woods brought them to Abbots
Leigh.
The fine old family mansion of the Nortons no longer exists, having
been pulled down in 1814, in order to make way for a yet more stately
structure, that now forms the residence of Sir William Miles, and is
celebrated for its magnificent gallery of pictures. Abbots Leigh was
approached by an avenue of trees, terminated by an antique gate-tower.
Passing through the wide archway of this tower, the king and his
fair companion came in front of the old mansion, which, with its
numerous gables and large mullioned windows, presented a very imposing
appearance.
Situated on an elevated plateau, and facing the west, Abbots Leigh
commanded a most extensive and varied prospect, embracing Durdham Downs
on the further side of the Avon, a vast tract of well-wooded country,
the broad estuary of the Severn, and the Welsh hills beyond it.
[Illustration: ABBOT'S LEIGH.]
Jane's arrival having been announced by a bell rung at the gate by the
porter, Mr. Norton, who was playing at bowls with his chaplain, Doctor
Gorges, on the smooth lawn in front of the mansion, hastened to meet
her, and, after greeting her very cordially, assisted her to alight.
The lord of Abbots Leigh was a tall, distinguished-looking personage,
attired in black velvet. His wife, who presently made her appearance,
was somewhat younger, and extremely handsome.
A most affectionate meeting took place between Jane and Mrs. Norton,
who embraced her young relative very tenderly, and expressed great
delight at seeing her.
"I rejoice that you have got here safely," she said. "We hear of so
many disagreeable occurrences, that I can assure you we have felt quite
uneasy about you. Your looks don't betray fatigue, but I dare say you
are greatly tired by your long journey."
"No, indeed, I am not," replied Jane. "I think I could ride thirty or
forty miles a day for a month, and not feel the worse for it. But I
have been troubled about my poor groom, Will Jones, who is very weak
from the effects of a quartan ague."
"Give yourself no further concern about him, Jane," said Mrs. Norton.
Then calling to the butler, who was standing near, she added, "Pope,
this young man, Will Jones, is suffering from ague. Bid Margaret Rider
prepare for him an infusion of aromatic herbs."
"A hot posset cannot fail to do him good," said Jane. "But, above all,
he must avoid a damp bed."
"There are no damp beds, I trust, at Abbots Leigh," replied Mrs.
Norton. "But Pope shall see that he is well lodged."
Pope, a tall, strongly-built man, who looked more like a soldier than
a butler, promised attention to his mistress's orders, and stepping
towards Charles, said a few words to him in a low tone, after which the
king, bowing gratefully to Mrs. Norton, took his horse to the stable.
Jane had next to answer Mr. Norton's inquiries relative to her brother
and Sir Clement Fisher.
"They must be full of anxiety for the king," he remarked. "All sorts of
reports reach us, and we know not what to believe. Can you give us the
assurance that his majesty is safe?"
"I wish I could," replied Jane. "But he is so environed by his enemies
that he cannot escape."
"Not immediately perhaps," said Mrs. Norton. "But an opportunity must
occur. No one will be base enough to betray him."
"Betray him! I should think not," cried Mr. Norton. "If chance brought
him here, I would place my house at his disposal."
"I am delighted to hear you give utterance to such sentiments," said
Jane.
"Did you doubt my loyalty?" he rejoined.
"No," she returned. "But I am glad to find that the king has so true a
friend."
They then entered the house.
CHAPTER V.
HOW CHARLES FOUND A FAITHFUL ADHERENT AT ABBOTS LEIGH.
Jane was in her room--a large old-fashioned bedchamber, with a
transom-window looking upon the lawn, and commanding a splendid view of
the Severn's mouth and the distant Welsh hills--when a tap was heard at
the door, and a maid-servant came in.
"You have something to say to me, I perceive, Margaret?" observed Jane.
"Yes, madam," was the reply. "My mistress has ordered me to attend upon
your groom, Will Jones, and to be very careful of him. So I prepared
a nice carduus posset, knowing it to be good for the ague, but when I
took it to him, he wouldn't drink it, but said he should prefer some
mulled sack."
"Well, Margaret, you had better indulge him in his whim. Let him have
some mulled sack, since he fancies the brewage."
"But that's not all," pursued Margaret Rider. "Mulled sack won't
content him. He declares he is very hungry, and must have a good
supper."
"Poor young man!" exclaimed Jane, in a commiserating tone. "He has had
a long day's journey. Let him have some supper."
"It strikes me, madam, that he is not so ill as he pretends to be. I
don't see why he shouldn't sup in the servants' hall."
"Indulge him, Margaret--pray indulge him. He is worse than he looks.
Ague is very obstinate."
"In my opinion, madam, the young man himself is very obstinate. Nothing
seems good enough for him. I am sure he is very well lodged, yet he is
not satisfied with his room."
"Well, let him have a better room, Margaret."
"I think you show him too much indulgence, madam. But I will attend to
your orders."
And Margaret departed.
On going down-stairs, Jane repaired to the butler's pantry, where she
found Pope, and was about to give him some further directions, when he
said to her, in a very grave tone:
"I do not know, madam, whether you are aware that I had the honour of
serving Mr. Thomas Jermyn, when he was groom of the bedchamber to the
Prince of Wales at Richmond. His royal highness was a boy at the time,
but I recollect him perfectly."
He paused and looked at Jane, but as she made no remark, he went on.
"Subsequently, I served in the late king's army under Colonel Bagot,
and constantly saw the prince at that time, so that his features are
graven upon my memory."
"Why do you mention this to me, Pope?" inquired Jane, uneasily, for she
suspected what was coming.