"Can you not guess, madam?" he rejoined. "Well, then, since I must

needs speak plainly--in your groom, Will Jones, I recognise the king."

"You are mistaken, Pope," she cried.

"No, madam," he rejoined, gravely, "I am too well acquainted with the

king's face to be mistaken. But you need not be alarmed. His majesty

may rely on my silence."

Just as the words were uttered, the object of their conversation came

in. A look from Jane told the king that the secret had been discovered.

"Soh, Pope has found me out!" he exclaimed. "I thought he would. But I

can trust him, for I know him to be an honest fellow, who would scorn

to betray his sovereign."

"I have sworn allegiance to you, sire," replied Pope, "and I will never

break my oath."

And as he spoke he knelt down and kissed the hand which Charles

graciously extended to him.

"Do not let your zeal lead you into any indiscretion, Pope," said the

king. "Show me no marks of respect when any one is present, except

Mistress Jane Lane, but continue to treat me as Will Jones."

"I will carefully attend to your majesty's injunctions," said Pope.

Feeling now quite sure that the king would be well attended to, Jane

left the room.

But the loyal butler had his own duties to fulfil, and could not

neglect them without exciting suspicion. Praying the king, therefore,

to excuse him, he proceeded to serve supper, and while he was thus

occupied, Margaret Rider, by his directions, brought a jug of metheglin

for the king.

For more than an hour Charles was left alone in the butler's pantry,

but at the end of that time Pope reappeared.

"I am now entirely at your majesty's service," he said.

"Sit down, and take a cup of metheglin," said Charles. "I want to have

a chat with you."

After some hesitation the butler complied.

"To prove that I place entire confidence in you, Pope," observed the

king, "I will tell you what I desire to do, and possibly you can aid

me. My object is to obtain a passage for France. Do you think I shall

be able to find a vessel at Bristol to take me to Bordeaux?"

"Very few vessels sail from Bristol to France, my liege. You had better

hire a schooner for Cardiff or Swansea."

"But I have no money," said Charles.

"Mistress Jane Lane can procure any sum your majesty may require from

Mr. Norton," replied Pope. "But of course she will be obliged to enter

into explanations with him."

"I should not feel uneasy on that score, because I know your master can

be trusted," observed the king.

"That is quite certain," rejoined Pope. "But with your majesty's

leave, the first thing to be done is to ascertain that a vessel can be

hired. There are plenty of ship-masters, plenty of ships, and plenty

of seamen to be found at Bristol, but one doesn't know whom to trust.

Or rather, I should say, one can't trust any of the skippers, since

most of them are Roundheads. But if you desire it I will go with your

majesty to Bristol to-morrow night. At the Dolphin, a tavern near the

quay, frequented by seafaring men, we may be able to pick up some

information."

"But will it be safe for me to go to a tavern like the Dolphin?"

"If I thought there was the slightest risk I would not offer to take

your majesty there," replied Pope. "I am well known to David Price,

the keeper of the tavern, and he will not question any one I may take

to his house. Possibly we may obtain from him all the information

we require. If I succeed in obtaining your majesty a passage to

Bordeaux--or even to Swansea--I shall esteem myself the happiest of

men."

Shortly afterwards Pope conducted the king to the pretty little chamber

prepared for him. Needless to say that his majesty slept soundly.

CHAPTER VI.

CARELESS BRINGS THE KING GOOD NEWS.

Next morning Charles was alone in the butler's pantry, when Mr. Norton,

accompanied by Doctor Gorges, who had been the late king's chaplain,

and now filled the same office at Abbots Leigh, came into the room to

inquire after him. The appearance of the latter, with whom he was well

acquainted, rather confused Charles, as he feared that the chaplain

must recognise him. However, the divine suspected no deception,

and Charles acted his part so well that he completely imposed upon

the worthy man. The interview did not last many minutes, and was

interrupted by Jane Lane, who came to the king's assistance.

"I hope I have not overacted my part," observed the king to Jane, as

soon as Mr. Norton and the chaplain were gone. "But it occurred to me

that my recovery was too rapid, and that I ought to have a relapse."

"You acted the part so naturally, my liege, that you would certainly

have imposed upon me, had I not been a confederate. It will be sure to

be spread about among the household that you have had another attack,

and as the servants may have thought your conduct strange in keeping

aloof from them, their suspicions will now be removed."

"I shall go forth presently," said the king. "I think it likely that

Careless may venture here in the course of the day."

He then informed Jane of his intention to visit Bristol at night with

Pope, for the purpose of hiring a vessel to convey him to France.

"If I succeed in my object I shall not return here," he said; "and in

that case I shall not require your further services. You will then be

at full liberty to inform Mr. Norton who has been his guest."

"I must be quite sure your majesty is safe before I make any such

communication to him," she replied.

"If Pope returns alone, you will know that I am gone," said Charles.

"Heaven grant that your majesty may find means of escape!" said Jane.

"But I own I am not very sanguine, and I implore you not to run any

heedless risk. I think there is great hazard in visiting Bristol."

She then quitted the room, and Charles, who found his confinement

rather irksome, went to the stables, where he remained for some time.

He did not return to the house, but passing through a retired part of

the garden gained the long avenue leading to the mansion.

While wending his way slowly beneath the overarching trees, he

perceived a horseman at a distance riding towards the house. As the

person drew nearer, he felt almost certain it must be Careless--but if

so, Careless had abandoned his disguise as a groom, and attired himself

in a costume more befitting his condition. Careless it proved to be,

and no sooner did he discern his royal master, than he quickened his

pace and rode up.

"Well met, my liege," he exclaimed, springing from his steed and

saluting the king. "I have come in quest of your majesty."

"I hope you bring me good news," replied Charles. "I see you have

thrown off your disguise."

"I found it necessary to do so," said Careless. "Habited as a groom I

should never have been able to make any arrangements for your majesty.

Luckily, at the Lamb, where I put up, I met with Tom Hornyold of

Worcester, who not only supplied me with a good sum of money, but with

a change of attire. Thus provided, I lost not a moment in endeavouring

to carry out your majesty's plans. By Tom Hornyold's advice, I repaired

to the Dolphin, a tavern frequented by ship-masters and seafaring men

in the neighbourhood of the quay----"

"And kept by David Price," interposed the king.

"Your majesty knows the tavern?" exclaimed Careless, in surprise.

"I have heard of it," replied Charles. "But proceed. Did you see the

tavern-keeper?"

"I did, my liege, and found him exactly the man described by Tom

Hornyold. I had a long conference with him in private, and told him I

wanted to hire a vessel to convey me to France, and if that could not

be managed, to Swansea. I said that I meant to take with me a young

dame, to whom I was about to be wedded--but whose parents objected to

the match----"

"Dame Gives, I suppose?" observed the king.

"Exactly, my liege. I had previously obtained her consent to the

scheme. But your majesty has not heard me out. I thought it necessary

to acquaint David Price that I should be accompanied by a friend--a

fugitive Royalist who had fought at Worcester--but I took care not to

lead him to suspect that my friend was a person of rank."

"Well, what followed?"

"He listened to all I said, and after some reflection, replied that

he knew the master of a small lugger, who he thought might be induced

by a good round sum to convey me, my intended bride, and my friend

to Swansea. 'I think the man is in the house now,' he added. 'If

you desire it, I will call him in here, and you can speak to him

yourself?' I said this was exactly what I wished, so he went out, and

shortly afterwards returned with a sturdy, broad-shouldered man, whom

he introduced as Captain Rooker. The skipper had an honest look that

prepossessed me in his favour. In order to give a friendly character

to the interview, David Price placed a flask of Nantz on the table,

and filled a glass for each of us. My object having been explained to

Captain Rooker, he entered upon the matter at once. He said it was a

hazardous job, and might get him into trouble, but as he sympathised

strongly with the Royalist party he would undertake to assist me,

provided he was well paid. After some talk he agreed to take me and my

companions to Swansea for fifty pounds--but he required twenty pounds

down, which by David Price's advice I paid him. I hope your majesty

will think I have done well in making the arrangement."

"You have done admirably," cried Charles, joyfully. "But when will

Captain Rooker sail?"

"To-night," replied Careless. "To-morrow, I hope your majesty will be

at Swansea. Once there, you cannot fail to secure a passage to France."

"Yes, I shall feel perfectly safe at Swansea. But where am I to embark?"

"I am unable to inform your majesty at this moment. All I know is, that

Captain Rooker means to send his lugger down the Avon to-day, and the

vessel will wait for us at some point where we can safely go on board.

Come to Bristol to-night, and then I shall be able to give you exact

information."

"You have forestalled my plans," said Charles. "I had arranged with

Pope, the butler at Abbots Leigh, who turns out to be a trusty fellow,

to go to Bristol to-night, and we meant to visit the Dolphin."

"Then let that tavern be our place of rendezvous," rejoined Careless.

"We will meet there at nine o'clock to-night. And now, unless your

majesty has some further commands for me, I will take my departure."

"I have nothing more to say," said the king. "At nine o'clock expect me

at the Dolphin."

Thereupon, Careless mounted his steed, and bowing profoundly to the

king, rode down the avenue.

When he had disappeared, Charles turned and walked slowly towards the

house. On arriving there, he repaired at once to the butler's pantry,

where he found Pope, and acquainted him with the arrangements made by

Careless. The butler approved of the plan, and thought it could be

safely carried out.

Later on in the day the king had an opportunity of conferring with

Jane Lane, who did not seek to disguise her uneasiness, when she was

informed of the scheme.

"I pray that your majesty may not be drawn into some snare," she

said. "I have great fears that the captain of the lugger may prove

treacherous."

"Why should you distrust him?" cried Charles. "Careless has perfect

faith in his honesty."

"I can give no reason for my suspicions," she replied, "and I hope they

may prove groundless. Zeal for your majesty makes me anxious. Pray

allow me to consult with Mr. Norton."

"No," replied the king, in a decided tone. "'Tis needless to do so."

"Your majesty, I am sure, has not a more devoted follower than Major

Careless. But he may be deceived."

"Tut! these are idle fears!" exclaimed Charles. "I never knew you so

timorous before. Ordinarily, you are full of courage."

"I cannot conquer my apprehensions, sire. I have a presentiment of ill,

and I beseech you to listen to me."

"I can scarcely think that it is the high-spirited Jane Lane who speaks

to me thus," said the king.

"Think of me as you please, my liege, but follow my counsel," she

rejoined. "Again, I entreat you to let me consult with Mr. Norton."

"No--no--no," cried Charles. "Not till I am gone will I allow you to

tell him who has been his guest."

Nothing more passed between them.

The prospect of immediate escape, now held out to the king, threw him

into such a state of excitement, that he felt it almost impossible to

continue to play the sick man, and in order to avoid observation, he

withdrew to his chamber, and remained there till evening, all his time

being occupied in watching the sails on the broad estuary of the Severn.

CHAPTER VII.

THE TAVERN-KEEPER AND THE SKIPPER.

In the good old times supper was generally served at an hour which

would not now be deemed particularly late for dinner, and after he had

finished his attendance at the evening meal, Pope, who had obtained

leave from his master to go to Bristol, set out with the king.

Charles had no opportunity of bidding Jane farewell, but she sent him a

message by the butler, expressing her heartfelt wishes for his success.

Though it was nearly dark at the time that he and Pope started on their

expedition, and the gloom was greatly increased by the thickness of the

woods into which they had plunged, the butler was well acquainted with

the road, so that they were in no danger of taking a wrong course.

However, it was a relief when they emerged from the thicket, and gained

the open ground, known as Stokeleigh Camp. As they reached the verge

of the steep upland, the valley, deeply ploughed by the Avon, lay

before them, while the lights of the city were distinguishable in the

distance. Descending from this eminence, they pursued their course

along the bank of the river, and met with no interruption.

"The tide is flowing," observed Pope. "Two hours hence the channel will

be full. The moon will have risen by that time, and then there will be

light enough for your majesty's business."

"It is quite light enough now, methinks," said Charles.

"It is pitch dark at this moment in the gorge of the Avon," rejoined

Pope.

Presently, they drew near St. Mary Redcliffe's pile, the outline of

which noble fabric could only be discerned through the gloom.

They then entered a narrow street skirted on either side by old timber

houses, and leading towards one of the city gates, which took its name

from the church they had just passed. Pope readily satisfied the guard

at Redcliffe-gate, and entering the city they proceeded towards the

bridge.

At that hour there were few people in the streets, which were almost

dark owing to the overhanging stories of the old houses. Just after

they had crossed the bridge and entered High-street, they encountered

the city watch, which had begun to make its rounds, and were challenged

by the captain, but allowed to pass on.

Shortly after this encounter, Pope turned into a narrow street on the

left, and descending it, they had nearly reached the quay, when Pope

stopped, and pointed to a tavern on the right, above the open door of

which hung a lamp that cast a feeble glimmer on the footway.

"That is the Dolphin, my liege," he said.

Charles looked at the house for a few moments, as if debating within

himself what he should do, and then said:

"Go in first. I will follow."

Pope obeyed, and went into the tavern, Charles keeping close behind

him. On crossing the threshold they found themselves in a large,

low-roofed, old fashioned room, in which a number of seafaring men were

seated at small tables drinking and smoking. The room was so dimly

lighted, besides being filled with tobacco-smoke, that the whole of the

guests could not be clearly distinguished, but amongst them were three

or four individuals, whose puritanical garb and tall steeple-crowned

hats showed that they were sectaries.

Besides these there were a couple of troopers.

On making this discovery, Charles felt inclined to beat a hasty

retreat, and would have done so, if the tavern-keeper, David Price,

who had been watching them, had not come forward, and beckoning them

to follow him, ushered them into a small inner room, where they found

Careless and a stout-built personage, whose appearance answered to the

description Charles had received of Captain Rooker.

Tall glasses and a big bowl of sack and sugar, or "Bristol Milk" as it

was termed, were set on the table, and light was afforded by a lamp.

Careless saluted the new-comers on their entrance, and begged them to

be seated, but nothing passed till David Price had quitted the room.

"This is Captain Rooker," said Careless. "He has engaged to give us a

passage to Swansea."

"Ay, it's all right," cried the captain, in rough but cheery accents.

"My lugger has already gone down the river, and we shall follow her

as soon as the tide suits, and that will be in about two hours. The

current will then be running down quickly. If so be you don't like to

embark on the quay, I can take you up somewhere lower down--say at the

Gorge of the Avon."

"That's a long way off," observed Charles. "What's your reason for

wishing us to embark at that place, captain?"

"Because it's the safest spot I know of," returned Rooker. "You need

have no fear of anyone lying in wait for you there."

"No, we'll make sure of that," observed the king, glancing

significantly at Careless.

"Hark ye, captain," said the latter, "you and I must not part company

till we reach Swansea."

"Why, you don't doubt me?" cried the skipper, gruffly.

"No, I don't doubt you, but I won't let you out of my sight. We will

arrange it in this way. You and I will start from the quay, and we will

take up the others as proposed."

"Well, I'm agreeable," said the skipper. "But I understood that a young

lady was going with you. Is she to be left behind?"

"No," replied Careless. "My friend will bring her with him. You will

find her near the high cross on St. Augustine's Green," he added to

Charles. "I would go there myself, but----"

"You don't want to leave me," supplied the skipper, with a laugh.

"Ay, that's just it," said Careless. "It won't make much difference to

you," he continued, again addressing the king. "You need not come back.

You can embark on the right bank of the river."

"Just as easily as on the left," remarked Captain Rooker, "if you can

only get down the cliffs without breaking your neck."

"I will guide him," said Pope. "I know the path down the rocks."

"Well, the place will suit me," said Charles. "So you may look out

for us at the entrance of the gorge, captain." Then, bending towards

Careless, he added, in a low tone, "Don't lose sight of this man."

"Depend on me," replied Careless, in the same tone.

No one but Captain Rooker was aware that all that had passed had been

overheard by David Price, who, on going forth, had left the door

slightly ajar. The cunning rascal had now heard quite enough, and,

fearful of being detected, crept cautiously away.

He was only just in time, for almost immediately afterwards Charles and

Pope quitted the room. David Price attended them to the door, and after

watching them for a moment or two, as they proceeded towards the quay,

he beckoned to the troopers, whom we have mentioned as being among the

guests. They were expecting the summons, and instantly joined him.

Meanwhile, the king and Pope had crossed the quay, and calling for a

boat, were taken to the other side of the Frome.

As soon as the boat returned from this job, the two troopers, each of

whom was armed with a carabine, and had a brace of pistols in his belt,

jumped into it, and ordered the waterman to take them across.

The man prepared to obey, but by some accident got foul of another

boat, causing a slight delay, which exasperated the troopers. They

rated him soundly, but their anger did not mend matters, for he moved

with the greatest deliberation.

CHAPTER VIII.

ST. AUGUSTINE'S GREEN.

Wholly unconscious that they were followed, the king and his attendant

mounted the eminence on which stood St. Augustine's Church. By this

time the moon had risen, and its beams silvered the tower and roof of

the majestic edifice. Before entering St. Augustine's Green--now known

as College Green--a large quadrangular piece of ground bordered by

trees, spread out in front of the cathedral, Charles cast a glance at

the city, which, viewed from this elevation, with its walls, ancient

habitations, and church towers, illumined by the moon's radiance,

presented a striking picture. While gazing in this direction he noticed

two troopers at the foot of the hill, who had evidently just crossed

over from the quay, but they did not excite his apprehension.

The moon being at the back of the collegiate church, the broad black

shadow of the venerable pile was thrown upon the green, reaching almost

as far as the high cross which stood in the centre of the enclosure.

As Charles walked towards the cross he saw a female figure hurry away,

and enter the alley of trees that bordered the green on the west. He

instantly followed, and found Dame Gives.

"Why did you fly from me?" he asked.

"I was not certain that it was your majesty," she rejoined. "The person

with you is a stranger to me."

"He is a faithful adherent whom I have found at Abbots Leigh," replied

Charles. "I could not bring Major Careless with me, for he is otherwise

occupied, but you will see him anon."

And he then proceeded to explain that Careless had been left to look

after the master of the lugger.

"Heaven grant that all may go well!" she exclaimed. "How rejoiced I

shall be when your majesty is safe at Swansea!"

"You will be still more pleased when we are all safe in France," said

Charles.

"I do not think I shall ever arrive there, sire," she rejoined, sadly.

"I am not usually down-hearted, as you know. But I am so low-spirited

to-night that I think you will be better without me."

"No, no," cried Charles. "Go you must. Major Careless will be miserable

if you are left behind."

"Nay, I don't desire to make him miserable," she rejoined, forcing a

laugh. "Whatever may happen I will go. But I will tell your majesty

why I feel so uneasy. While I was standing under the shadow of the

church a dark figure approached me, and at first I thought it was Major

Careless, whom I expected. A strange terror seized me. The figure

slowly and noiselessly advanced, and as it drew near the blood froze

in my veins, and my heart ceased to beat, for I saw that it was Urso.

Yes, it was Urso, come from the grave to torment me! His face was the

face of a corpse, but his eyes gleamed with preternatural brightness.

I tried to fly, but I continued chained to the spot. The phantom

approached--and oh, horror! it stood close beside me, and these words,

uttered in a sepulchral tone, reached my ear: 'I have come to summon

you.' For a moment my senses seemed to desert me. When I recovered, the

phantom was gone."

"'Twas the delusion of an over-excited imagination," observed Charles,

who nevertheless was powerfully impressed by the relation.

"No, sire," she replied, shuddering. "I could not be deceived. I saw

Urso too plainly. Nothing could equal the horror with which he inspired

me. Death would be dreadful indeed if I must rejoin him."

There was a pause, during which Charles made no remark, for, in spite

of himself, he felt a sense of terror creeping over him.

At length Dame Gives broke the silence:

"As soon as I regained the use of my limbs," she said, "I went to

yonder chapel," pointing to a small sacred structure on the eastern

side of the green, "and finding the door open I went in, and kneeling

down, prayed fervently. Since then I have felt greatly relieved, and

prepared for whatever may ensue."

"'Tis a mere trick of fancy," cried Charles. "But, despite the fancied

summons, you must go with me. If we remain here longer, I shall think I

see Urso's ghost myself."

He then called to Pope, who was standing near at hand, and bade him

lead the way to the downs. Marching in advance, the butler took them to

the further end of the green, and then commenced another steep ascent.

Dame Gives still felt rather faint, and required the aid of the king's

arm in mounting the hill. Not one of the party was aware that they were

cautiously followed by the two troopers.

CHAPTER IX.

THE GORGE OF THE AVON.

They had now gained an eminence, at that time nothing more than a bare

down, but now covered with streets, squares, and terraces, and forming

the charming suburb of Clifton. From this lofty point the whole of the

city could be descried, bathed in moonlight, and presenting a very

striking picture.

After a few minutes' rest, Dame Gives seemed to have recovered from

the fatigue of the steep ascent, and walked on briskly over the

elastic turf. Though they were on a very lofty elevation, they had

not as yet reached the crown of the hill, which was then surmounted

by a watch-tower, but they walked to this point, and avoiding

the watch-tower, entered a wide open space, partly surrounded by

earthworks, which had once formed a Roman camp.

A most remarkable scene now lay before them, the picturesque effect of

which was heightened by the moonlight. From the giddy height they had

attained they looked down upon the Avon, flowing in its deep channel

between two walls of rocks, evidently riven asunder, ages ago, by some

convulsion of nature. This marvellous chasm, than which nothing can

be grander, is known as the Gorge of the Avon. Bushes and small trees

springing from the interstices of the lofty and shelving rocks added

materially to its beauty. In appearance the uplands on either side of

the gorge were totally different. The heights on which the king and his

companions stood were wild, and only covered with patches of gorse,

while those on the opposite side were crowned with the thickets in the

midst of which Abbots Leigh was situated. Divided for long centuries,

as we have said, these towering cliffs have been once more united by a

light and beautiful bridge suspended over the abyss at such a height

that the tallest ship can pass beneath it.

From the lofty point on which Charles stood the course of the Avon

from Bristol to the rocky gorge could be distinctly traced in the

moonlight, except in places where the river was obscured by a slight

haze that gathered over it. The upper part of the cliffs was illumined

by the moon, but her beams could not penetrate their mysterious and

gloomy depths. Lower down, where the chasm widened, and the cliffs were

further apart, the river could be seen rushing on to join the Severn. A

strange and fascinating picture, which the king contemplated with great

interest.

Meanwhile, the troopers had gained the summit of the hill, and

concealed themselves behind the watch-tower.

"There is the boat!" exclaimed Pope, pointing to a dark object

distinguishable in the river about three hundred yards from the

entrance of the gorge.

Charles listened intently, and, in the deep stillness that prevailed,

felt sure he heard the plash of oars.

"'Tis the boat, no doubt," he cried.

"Shall we go down to meet it?" inquired Pope.

Charles signified his assent.

"Your majesty will please to be careful," continued Pope. "The descent

is somewhat perilous."

"You hear what he says, fair mistress," remarked Charles to Dame Gives.

Struck by her extreme paleness, he added:

"Let me help you to descend."

But she thankfully declined the gracious offer.

Pope then led them along the edge of the precipitous cliffs, till

he arrived at a spot where the bank was not quite so steep, and was

fringed with bushes.

"Here is the path, my liege," he exclaimed. "Follow me, and proceed

cautiously, I beseech you. A false step might prove fatal."

He then plunged amid the bushes, and was followed by Charles. Close

behind the king came Dame Gives.

Their movements had been watched by the troopers, who carefully marked

the spot where they commenced the descent, and in another minute were

cautiously following them.

The path taken by Pope brought those whom he conducted among the rocks

lower down, and here Charles gave a helping hand to Dame Gives, and

saved her from the consequences of more than one unlucky slip; but

nothing worse occurred, and they all reached the bottom of the cliff in

safety.

They were now at the entrance of the gorge, and the river, confined

by the rocks, was sweeping rapidly past them through its narrow deep

channel.

Charles was gazing at the darkling current and at the towering cliffs,

that filled him with a sense of awe, when Pope called out that the boat

was at hand.

Next moment it came up, and Captain Rooker, who had been rowing, leaped

ashore and made it fast to the stump of a tree. Careless did not land,

but helped Dame Gives into the boat, and Charles was about to follow,

when shouts were heard, and the two troopers rushed towards them.

Jumping into the boat, Charles ordered Rooker to set her free. But the

skipper paid no attention to the command.

"Thou art taken in the toils, Charles Stuart," he cried. "As an

instrument in accomplishing thy capture, I shall receive my reward."

"Be this the reward of thy treachery, villain," cried Careless.

And drawing a pistol from his belt, he shot him through the head.

As the traitor fell to the ground, Pope unloosed the rope, and set

the boat free, jumping into it, as he pushed it from the bank. At the

same moment, Charles seized the oars, and propelling the boat into the

middle of the stream it was swept down by the rapid current.

Unluckily, it had to pass near the troopers, and they shouted to the

king, who was now plying the oars, to stop; but as he disregarded the

order, they both discharged their carabines at him, and he must have

been killed, if Dame Gives had not suddenly risen, and placing herself

before him, received the shots. The devoted young woman fell back

mortally wounded into the arms of Careless, who was seated near her.

"Are you much hurt?" he cried, in accents of despair.

"Hurt to death," she rejoined, faintly. "I have not many moments left

of life. I knew this would be, and am prepared for it. Farewell for

ever!"

Uttering these words, she breathed her last sigh, and her head declined

upon Careless's shoulder.

"She has died for me!" exclaimed Charles. "'Tis a sad and sudden

ending, but she anticipated her doom."

"Anticipated it, sire! How mean you?" cried Careless.

"I will explain hereafter, if we escape," said Charles.

Several more shots were fired by the troopers, but no one was hurt. The

current swept the boat down so rapidly that those within it were soon

out of reach of harm.

"What will you do?" said Charles to Careless.

"I know not," rejoined the other, distractedly. "But I will never rest

till I have avenged her. But think not of me, my liege. Save yourself.

If you go further down the river, you will most assuredly fall into

some new danger."

"If I might venture to advise your majesty," said Pope, "I would

recommend you to land as soon as possible, and return at once to Abbots

Leigh."

"Thy advice is good," rejoined Charles. "But what is to be done with

the unfortunate victim of this treacherous design? How is she to be

disposed of?"

"Leave her to me, sire," replied Careless. "Again, I implore you to

save yourself. Return to Abbots Leigh, as Pope suggests. If she could

speak," he added, solemnly, looking at the lifeless figure, which he

still held in his arms, "she would urge you to take this course!"

"If you will consent to keep Pope with you, to assist you in your

mournful task, I will go--not otherwise," said Charles.

"Be it so, my liege," replied Careless.

During this colloquy, the boat was carried rapidly through the gorge,

and had now reached the point where the chasm grew wider and the cliffs

were further apart.

Looking out for a favourable point to land, Charles drew near the left

bank of the river, and Pope, jumping ashore, quickly fastened the boat

to a tree.

Charles followed, but for some time could not make up his mind to

depart.

At last, however, he yielded to the entreaties of Careless, who

besought him earnestly to go, urging that his stay would only endanger

himself, and ascending the cliffs, he made his way alone through the

woods to Abbots Leigh.

End of Book the Sixth.

Book the Seventh

TRENT.

CHAPTER I.

OF THE VENGEANCE TAKEN BY CARELESS ON THE TROOPERS.

Not without great difficulty did Charles succeed in reaching Abbots

Leigh after his perilous adventure in the gorge of the Avon. More than

once he got lost in the wood, and had just resolved to lie down at

the foot of a tree and wait for dawn, when he caught a glimpse of the

mansion. Before they parted Pope had advised him to take refuge for

a few hours in the stable, explaining how he could obtain admittance

to that building even if the door should be locked; and acting upon

this counsel the king proceeded thither at once, and having got inside

as directed, threw himself upon a heap of clean straw, and presently

fell fast asleep. About five o'clock in the morning he was roused from

his slumbers by some one who shook him gently, and when he opened his

eyes he beheld Pope and Careless standing near him. The latter looked

haggard and worn in the grey light of morning.

Half stupefied by the profound slumber in which his faculties had been

wrapped, Charles could not for a few moments recal the events of the

preceding night, but as soon as he did so he started up, and fixing an

inquiring look on Careless, asked what had happened since he left him.

"She is avenged, and your majesty is freed from two unrelenting

enemies," replied Careless, in a sombre tone.

"I understand," said Charles. "I will ask no further questions now.

When you have had some repose, of which you must be greatly in need,

you shall give me the details."

"There is no time for converse now, my liege," interposed Pope.

"I must take you to your chamber at once. Half an hour hence the

household will be astir, and then your absence will be discovered. Your

honour must be good enough to remain here till I return," he added to

Careless, "unless you choose to mount to the loft, where you will be

perfectly safe and undisturbed."

"The loft will suit me as well as the richest chamber," rejoined

Careless. "I am so desperately fatigued that I can sleep anywhere."

And as Pope and the king quitted the stable, Careless climbed the

wooden steps that led to the loft.

Proceeding to the rear of the mansion, Pope opened a small door that

had been purposely left unbolted, and entering with the king, they

mounted a back staircase with the utmost caution, and gained Charles's

bedchamber, which was in the upper part of the house.

"Your majesty may take your full rest," said Pope; "all the servants

believe you have had a relapse of ague."

He then departed, and Charles threw himself on his couch, and soon

forgot his dangers and disappointment.

The day had made a considerable advance before the butler reappeared.

The king was awake and thoroughly rested. While assisting his majesty

to dress Pope told him that he had seen Mistress Jane Lane, and

informed her of the failure of the enterprise.

"She did not appear surprised," continued the butler, "because she had

been full of misgivings, but she was rejoiced that your majesty had

been preserved from the treacherous skipper's plots. I did not acquaint

her with the sad catastrophe that occurred, as I felt sure it would

greatly distress her. No doubt strict inquiries will be made into the

affair, but they will lead to nothing, since a clue cannot be obtained

to your majesty's retreat."

"I thought you were known to David Price, the tavern-keeper?" observed

the king.

"The rascal only knows my name, and has no idea that I am Mr. Norton's

servant. On the contrary, he believes that I dwell in Bristol. Captain

Rooker, who planned your majesty's capture with the perfidious

tavern-keeper, is gone, and the two troopers who aided them in their

scheme are likewise disposed of, as Major Careless will explain to you

anon. I only wish David Price had shared their fate. But your majesty

need have no fear of him. You are quite safe at Abbots Leigh."

"I cannot remain here longer," said Charles. "I must seek assistance

from other trusty friends. You are an old soldier, Pope, and have

served in the late wars. Do you know Colonel Francis Wyndham, the late

knight marshal's brother, and somewhile governor of Dunster Castle?"

"I know him very well, sire," replied the butler, "and I do not know a

better or a braver man, nor a more loyal subject of your majesty. About

two years ago Colonel Wyndham married Mistress Anne Gerard, daughter

and heiress of Squire Thomas Gerard, of Trent, in Somersetshire. Since

then he has gone with his wife to live at Trent. His mother, Lady

Wyndham, widow of Sir Thomas Wyndham, likewise resides with him. As

your majesty may not be acquainted with Trent, I will describe its

position. 'Tis a small secluded village, charmingly situated, about

midway between Sherborne and Yeovil, and consists of a few scattered

habitations--cottages, I ought perhaps to call them--in the midst of

which, surrounded by fine old elm-trees, stands the ancient mansion.

Close to the yard gate--within a bow-shot of the house--is the church,

a fine old pile. I know the manor-house well, for I have often been

there, and, unless I am greatly mistaken, it contains hiding-places,

in which your majesty could be securely concealed should any search

be made. The position of Trent is extremely favourable to your plans.

Not only is it out of the main road, and extremely retired, but it is

within a few hours' ride of the coast, and I have no doubt whatever

that Colonel Wyndham will be able to procure you a vessel at Lyme Regis

to transport you to France."

"Was not the colonel taken prisoner when he surrendered Dunster Castle?"

"He was taken to Weymouth, my liege, but released on his parole, so

that he can move about without fear of arrest. Formerly he resided at

Sherborne, and was there jealously watched by the Parliamentarians,

but since his removal to Trent he has not been subjected to so much

annoyance. Your majesty may wonder that I know so much about him, but I

am well acquainted with the colonel's man, Harry Peters."

"You have decided me," cried Charles. "I will go to Trent. Major

Careless shall serve as my avant courier to apprise Colonel Wyndham

that I am coming to him."

Shortly afterwards Charles repaired to the butler's pantry, where he

breakfasted, taking care when any of the servants came in to feign

great debility.

After breakfast he proceeded to the stables, and watching his

opportunity, mounted to the loft in which he had learnt from Pope that

Careless was concealed.

A slight signal brought out his faithful follower, whose altered looks

and manner could not fail to grieve the king. Careless's natural gaiety

seemed to have entirely deserted him, and had given place to a gloomy,

almost stern, expression.

"I am at your majesty's orders," he said, saluting the king

respectfully. "Is there aught I can do?"

"You look so ill," rejoined Charles, in accents of deep concern, "that

I hesitate to put your devotion to further test. You need repose. Take

it, and we will talk further."

"Action will cure me sooner than rest," rejoined Careless, with a

ghastly smile. "Sleep seems to shun me, or if I close my weary eyelids

for a moment, I start up again in horror."

"Ease your breast, and tell me what has happened," said the king, in

tones that bespoke his profound sympathy.

After a powerful struggle, Careless conquered his emotion sufficiently

to enable him to speak coherently, and said:

"You know what anguish I endured when she whom I loved so dearly

expired in my arms. I swore to avenge her, and I have kept my oath. No

sooner was your majesty gone than I prepared to execute my purpose,

and I found Pope, whose blood was up, well disposed to second me. From

the sounds we heard, we felt sure that the two murderous caitiffs were

still on the opposite bank of the Avon. While I laid down the body

tenderly, Pope pushed the boat to the other side of the river, and

enabled me to leap ashore. The villains were hurrying towards the spot,

and as soon as they descried me through the gloom, they both discharged

their pistols at me, but the bullets whistled past me harmlessly. I

returned the fire with better effect, for I brought down one of them.

Sword in hand, I then rushed upon the other, and a sharp conflict took

place between us. Infuriated as I was, he was no match for me, and I

drove him to the edge of the precipitous bank. He made a desperate

effort to avoid his fate, but I still pressed fiercely on, smote him,

and with a wild cry he fell backwards, and was instantly swept away by

the rapid current. Having thus executed my vengeful task, I returned to

the boat, and was quickly transported to the opposite bank by Pope.

"But now arose the painful question--how were her loved remains to be

disposed of? I was almost distracted by the thought of leaving her.

Yet what else could be done? At last, however, the difficulty was

unexpectedly solved. Pope had fastened the boat to a tree, and had come

ashore to confer with me. We were anxiously deliberating together,

when the boat, containing her loved remains, suddenly disappeared! It

was swept away in an instant--gone beyond the possibility of recovery.

Doubtless, as Pope suggested, the rope with which he endeavoured to

secure the bark, had become loose, and so the disaster occurred. But

I looked upon it then--as I regard it now--as a cruel stroke of fate,

by which I was deprived of the sad consolation of seeing her decently

interred."

There was a pause, during which Charles showed by his looks how

profoundly he sympathised with his attendant.

"Fear not, she will find a grave," he said, at length.

"It may be so," rejoined Careless. "But I shall never know where she

lies."

"Banish the painful thought from your mind," said Charles. "You cannot

do more than you have done. My firm conviction is that she will find a

resting-place in some quiet churchyard, and not at the bottom of the

deep as you seem to dread."

"I will strive to think so," rejoined Careless.

Again forcibly repressing his emotion, he added in a firm voice, "Your

majesty has some commands for me?"

"You know Colonel Francis Wyndham, I think? He now resides at Trent,

in Somersetshire, and I intend to seek an asylum in his house. Do you

approve of the plan?"

"Perfectly, my liege. Frank Wyndham is a staunch Royalist. You will be

quite secure with him."

"I am glad to hear you say so, though I did not doubt his loyalty. You

must ride on to Trent, and advise him of my coming."

"Give me till to-morrow, my liege, and I shall be ready to set out.

Were I to start to-day, I might break down on the road."

CHAPTER II.

HOW JANE LANE AGREED TO ATTEND THE KING TO TRENT.

Quitting the stable, Charles repaired to the butler's pantry, where he

found Pope. When the latter was informed of the arrangements made he

undertook to provide Major Careless with a horse for his journey to

Trent.

"It will be merely necessary to inform Mr. Norton," said the butler,

"that a fugitive Cavalier has taken refuge here, and requires to be

passed on to the coast. The worthy gentleman will afford him every

assistance, and ask no questions."

While they were still conversing, Jane Lane entered the room, and

expressed her sincere delight at seeing his majesty safe back again.

"You have proved a true prophetess," Charles said. "You foretold that

the attempt would fail, and it has failed. Henceforth, I will be guided

by you."

"Then since your majesty permits me to speak, I will venture to say

that the plan which Pope tells me you have decided upon is the best

that could be adopted. No doubt you will be able to reach Trent without

greater difficulties than you have hitherto encountered, and which you

have so successfully overcome, and I trust, through Colonel Wyndham's

agency, you may procure a vessel to transport you to France."

"To insure me a safe journey to Trent you must accompany me, Jane.

Once there I will not tax your services further. Why this hesitation?

Surely, you will not fail me at this important juncture?"

"I am bound to obey your commands in all things----"

"But you do not like to go with me to Trent. 'Tis but a two days'

journey from this place."

"'Tis not the distance, sire. I would willingly attend your majesty to

the furthest point of your kingdom, if you desired me to do so, but----"

"What means this hesitation, Jane? 'Tis scarcely consistent with your

previous noble conduct, which led me to suppose that I might rely upon

you to the last. Well, I will put no constraint upon you. I will go

alone."

"Forgive me, sire," she cried, with a look of great distress. "I will

explain myself. A special messenger has just brought me a letter from

Sir Clement Fisher."

"Does he forbid your further attendance upon me?" observed Charles,

coldly. "Is his authority paramount to mine?"

"I have just said that I will obey you in all things, my liege," she

rejoined, in tones that bespoke her trouble. "And do not, I beseech

you, blame Sir Clement. He is as deeply devoted to your majesty as I am

myself."

"Till now, I thought so."

"Think so still, sire. Sir Clement is a loyal gentleman, and will

sacrifice his life for you; but even for his king he will not sacrifice

his honour."

"His honour!" exclaimed Charles, startled. "I demand no such sacrifice.

Ha! I understand," he added, as a light suddenly broke upon him. "He

is fearful that evil and calumnious tongues may seek to blemish your

spotless reputation."

"Your majesty has divined the truth," she replied, casting down her

eyes.

"I might have guessed it before. But I judged Sir Clement differently.

I deemed him superior to the ordinary run of men. Aware as he is of the

feelings by which you have been actuated--confident as he must be of

your rectitude of principles--how could a single doubt cross his mind?"

"You do him an injustice, my liege. Sir Clement's confidence in me is

unshaken. But he fears that others may not view my conduct in the same

light."

"There is a spice of jealousy in this," thought the king.

"In the letter which I have just received from him," pursued Jane,

"Sir Clement informs me that he is about to start for Abbots Leigh

forthwith, and begs me to await his coming."

"I would not have you do otherwise," rejoined Charles. "I am glad he

has so decided. His presence will silence all scandal. When do you

expect him?"

"To-morrow, sire. I am sure he will be delighted to escort you to

Trent."

"His satisfaction will not be diminished by your companionship,"

remarked Charles, smiling. "No doubt you will have a great many

things to say to each other, and that I may not interfere with the

conversation, a slight change shall be made in our arrangements. If

another horse can be procured, you shall no longer ride behind me."

"Mr. Norton has plenty of horses in his stable, and will lend me one,

I am quite sure," she rejoined. "But it is not necessary to make any

change on my account."

"Nay, let it be so," said Charles. "You will enjoy much greater

freedom. I shall still continue to act as your groom."

"The disguise has hitherto served your majesty so well that I should be

sorry if you abandoned it."

"'Twould be highly imprudent to do so," rejoined Charles. "If I reach

Trent in safety, I may be compelled to play some new part. Till then I

shall continue to be Will Jones. In the expectation of Sir Clement's

early arrival, I will send off Major Careless to-morrow to announce my

coming to Colonel Wyndham. The rest I leave to you."

"And your majesty may rely upon my making all needful arrangements with

Mr. Norton. When do you desire to set out for Trent?"

"Nay, you must consult Sir Clement," observed the king, with a smile.

"But should it suit him, we will start on the day after his arrival."

"Your majesty's wishes will be his law," replied Jane.

CHAPTER III.

COLONEL FRANCIS WYNDHAM, OF TRENT.

Understanding from Pope that a fugitive Cavalier had sought shelter at

Abbots Leigh, Mr. Norton had a private interview with his guest, and on

learning his name, offered him all the assistance in his power.

Thanking him most heartily, Careless said if he would provide him with

a horse he would esteem it a very great favour.

"What is more, Mr. Norton," he added, "you will materially serve the

king."

"Since it is for his majesty's service," replied Mr. Norton, "you shall

have the best horse in my stable. Return him or not, as may suit your

convenience."

"I shall not fail to acquaint his majesty with your zeal in his behalf,

sir," said Careless. "He is well aware of your attachment to him."

"I only wish I had a better opportunity of proving my loyalty, sir. I

pray you say as much to the king. I will not ask questions which you

may be unwilling to answer, but I shall unfeignedly rejoice to hear

that his majesty has escaped."

"I trust it will not be long before you receive that satisfactory

intelligence, sir," said Careless. "And I am sure it will gratify you

to reflect that you have contributed to so desirable a result. When

next we meet I hope I may salute you as Sir George Norton."

"I hope so, too, sir," rejoined the other; "for in that case his

majesty will have been restored to the throne."

After this interview Careless was not allowed to return to his place

of concealment in the stable, but was lodged in a chamber in the upper

part of the house, not far from the room occupied by the king, so that

they had an opportunity of conferring together.

At a very early hour on the following morning Careless started on his

mission. He was well mounted, for Mr. Norton had strictly fulfilled his

promise, and given him his best horse. In his present distracted frame

of mind, nothing could have suited the king's faithful adherent better

than the task he had undertaken, as he hoped that hard exercise would

enable him to shake off the painful idea by which he was haunted.

He rode on throughout the day, halting only when it was necessary to

refresh his steed. Fortunately, he met with no hindrance, though once

or twice he was compelled to quit the direct course. His last halt was

at Sherborne, and he was then nearly at the end of his journey.

A pleasant ride of a few miles from this charming old town brought

him to a secluded little village, consisting only of a few scattered

cottages, in the midst of which stood an antique church.

This was Trent. It was growing dusk as he approached the village, and

the place was so surrounded by trees that he could only just discern

the spire of the church. But he knew that in the midst of those lofty

elms stood the old manor-house, of which he was in quest, so he rode on

without making any inquiries from the few rustics he encountered.

Pursuing his course along a narrow winding lane, overhung by trees,

and skirted here and there by a cottage, having whitewashed walls and

a grey thatched roof, he came to the church, close to which stood the

old manor-house--a large, low building, solidly constructed of stone,

with shingled roof, mullioned windows, and an entrance covered by a

pent house. This was the rear of the mansion, but the front looked upon

a smooth lawn, bordered, as we have said, by lofty elm-trees, inhabited

by a colony of rooks.

Trent House was not approached by an avenue, and to this circumstance

it chiefly owed its extreme privacy. The entrance being at the rear was

reached from a large yard, differing very little, except in size, from

the enclosure ordinarily attached to a substantial farm-house. On the

right of the yard were the stables and other outbuildings.

[Illustration: TRENT HOUSE.]

Careless had pulled up at the gate, and was contemplating the old

house, and thinking how well adapted it was as a place of refuge for

the king, when a serving-man, who was crossing the yard from the

stables, noticed him, and at once came up to ascertain his business.

As the man drew near he recognised Major Careless, and saluting him

respectfully, addressed him by name.

"Your honour has forgotten me, I make no doubt," he said, taking off

his cap as he spoke. "I am Harry Peters, and was once your groom."

"Nay, I have not forgotten thee, Harry," replied Careless. "I am glad

to find thee here, for I know thee to be a trusty fellow, and thou

may'st be of use to me, and to another beside me. Is Colonel Wyndham at

home?" And as Peters responded in the affirmative, he added, "that's

well; open the gate, and let me in. Now go tell thy master that Mr.

Morton desires to speak with him."

"Had I not better announce your honour correctly?"

"Do as I bid thee," said Careless.

And Peters departed.

Left alone Careless dismounted, awaiting Colonel Wyndham's appearance.

In a minute or two afterwards the colonel came out of the house and

marched towards him.

The former governor of Dunster Castle was a remarkably fine-looking

man, in the prime of life, and, though plainly attired, had a very

distinguished air, and looked like one accustomed to command.

When within a few yards of the stranger he suddenly stopped, and

exclaimed:

"Why, how is this? My man said that Mr. Morton, of whom I know nothing,

and never heard of before, desired to see me, but I find it is my old

friend Will Careless."

"Yes, 'tis I, in good truth, Frank," replied the other, laughing. "But

I had reasons for the disguise, as I will explain anon."

"You are welcome to Trent, Will--right welcome--under whatever name you

come," said Colonel Wyndham, heartily. "Take Mr. Morton's horse to the

stable," he added to Peters. "Now come in with me, and I will present

you to my wife and mother."

"Hold a moment, Frank," cried Careless. "I must have a word with you.

When you have heard what I have to say, you will judge what is best to

be done. I come from the king."

Colonel Wyndham started back, and uttered an exclamation of joy and

surprise.

"You amaze me!" he cried. "We heard that his majesty was slain at

Worcester."

"'Twas a false report, invented by the enemy," replied Careless. "Not

only is the king alive and well, but he is coming to take refuge with

you here at Trent."

"By Heaven, I am glad to hear it!" cried the colonel. "No news could

please me better--nay, not half so well. As the bearer of such joyful

tidings thou art doubly welcome, Will. And think not there is need of

secrecy. I will answer for my womankind as I would for myself. Of my

mother, Lady Wyndham, I need not speak, for you know her."

"And know her to be loyal," remarked Careless.

"My wife is just as loyal," pursued the colonel. "And my fair cousin,

Juliana Coningsby, is as loyal as my wife. They have been profoundly

grieved by the rumour I have just alluded to of the king's death; but

Juliana refused to credit it, and maintained her confident belief that

he is still living, and will be restored to the throne."

"'Tis clear from what you say, Frank, that there will be no risk in

communicating the secret to your ladies."

"Fear nothing. Women can keep a secret as well as we men can--better,

perhaps. My household consists of some twenty persons, and I firmly

believe there is not a traitor among them."

"That is much to say. Yet 'twill be best not to try their fidelity.

There is one honest fellow, I'll be sworn--Harry Peters."

"Peters is not an exception--they are all honest. But come in. I am

anxious to acquaint the ladies with the good news respecting the king."

He then took Careless into the house, and led him to a parlour, which

was lighted by a lamp placed on the table. In this room three ladies

were assembled, two of them being young, and engaged on some feminine

occupation, while the third and oldest of the party was reading a

devotional work.

The elderly dame, as will be surmised, was the colonel's mother.

Lady Wyndham had a stately figure and a dignified deportment, and

though her finely formed features bore the impress of age, they were

still regular in outline. Her costume belonged to an earlier period,

and suited her well. Her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Wyndham, the heiress

to whom the colonel owed Trent, possessed considerable personal

attractions--magnificent black eyes and luxuriant black tresses.

A striking contrast to Mrs. Wyndham was Juliana Coningsby--a

charming blonde, with summer blue eyes, delicately formed features,

snow-white skin, and light locks. When she smiled--and she smiled very

frequently--two rows of exquisite pearls were displayed. Juliana was

just nineteen, and our description would be incomplete if we did not

add that her figure was slight and exceedingly graceful.

Careless's appearance caused some excitement among the company. As we

have intimated, he was known to Lady Wyndham, who received him very

cordially, and after he had said a few words to her he was presented in

due form to the other ladies.

When the presentation had taken place, Colonel Wyndham remarked:

"Major Careless brings us very good news. The rumour we have heard of

the king's death at Worcester is utterly unfounded. His majesty is safe

and well."

"I can vouch for that, since I only left him this morning," added

Careless.

Joyful exclamations arose from all. Juliana clapped her hands together,

and called out:

"I knew it! I knew the king was safe. Nothing would persuade me to the

contrary. And I am just as sure now that he will escape his enemies,

and regain the throne."

"His majesty will be delighted to find he has such a zealous partisan,"

observed Careless, smiling at her vivacity. "You must give him the

assurance from your own lips."

"I should like to have an opportunity of doing so," she rejoined.

"Then your wish will be speedily gratified, Juliana," said Colonel

Wyndham. "You will very soon have an opportunity of conversing with the

king."

His wife and Lady Wyndham were greatly surprised by the announcement,

and questioned him as to its meaning by their looks; but Juliana called

out:

"You are jesting with me, Frank."

"Not so," he rejoined. "But I won't keep you longer in suspense. Learn

then that the king is coming here."

"His majesty coming to Trent!" exclaimed Juliana, again clapping her

hands. "Oh! that is delightful. I have longed so much to see him."

"Moderate yourself, my love," said Mrs. Wyndham, who looked scarcely

less pleased.

"You are his majesty's harbinger, I suppose?" said Lady Wyndham to

Careless.

"Your ladyship is right," he replied. "I have attended the king ever

since the great disaster at Worcester. Several attempts which he has

made to escape to France, have been frustrated, and he has therefore

resolved to abide a time when the vigilance of his enemies shall relax.

With this design he has fixed upon Trent House as a retreat, feeling

well assured that he has not a more devoted adherent than Colonel

Francis Wyndham."

"His majesty has formed a just opinion of my son," said Lady Wyndham.

"He will be quite safe under his roof."

"Women are not generally trusted with important secrets," observed

Mrs. Wyndham. "But his majesty need fear no indiscretion on our part.

Juliana is sometimes rather thoughtless, but she will now see the

necessity of keeping strict guard upon her tongue."

"I have never yet had a secret confided to me," said the young lady in

question; "but if everybody is as careful as I shall be his majesty

won't be in much danger."

"I have already assured Major Careless that the servants can be relied

upon," said Colonel Wyndham.

"Yes, they are all perfectly faithful and honest," said his wife. "But

of course every precaution shall be observed."

"His majesty shall have my room," said Lady Wyndham. "I will describe

it to you, Major Careless, and then you will judge of its fitness for

the purpose. It is not in this part of the house, but is situated above

the kitchen. It is reasonably large, and loftier than you would expect,

because the ceiling is raised into the roof, and supported by oaken

rafters. On either side are lattice windows which look into the garden

and command the yard, so that his majesty would be made immediately

aware of the arrival of any dangerous visitor. The room is wainscoted

with old oak, and at one end is a secret closet in which the king could

take refuge. But this is not all. A movable board within the closet

affords access to a short, narrow staircase contrived in the wall, by

means of which an outbuilding can be gained, and thus any search may be

eluded. I must not omit to mention that in the principal room there is

a small cupboard, concealed by a sliding panel, and in this cupboard

wine and provisions may be stored. But you must see the room yourself.

No other apartment in the house offers such facilities for concealment

and flight."

"Your ladyship's description is so clear," said Careless, "that I need

not see the room to decide that it is exactly suitable to the king's

present requirements. My only concern is that you should be obliged to

relinquish it."

"Poh! that is a mere trifle," exclaimed the loyal old dame. "I would

give up all I possess to benefit his majesty. I shall easily find

another room."

"You shall have mine, dear aunt," cried Juliana, eagerly.

"When is his majesty's arrival to be expected?" inquired Colonel

Wyndham.

"He is staying at Abbots Leigh, near Bristol," replied Careless. "In

all probability he will leave there to-morrow morning, attended by

Mistress Jane Lane and Sir Clement Fisher, but he will not proceed

beyond Castle Cary. Early on the following day he may be looked for

here."

"All shall be ready for him," said Colonel Wyndham.

A long conversation then ensued, which it is not needful to report.

The ladies had a number of questions to ask respecting the fatal fight

at Worcester and the king's subsequent adventures, and while Careless

gratified their natural curiosity, Colonel Wyndham left the room to

give directions for the accommodation of his unexpected, though most

welcome guest. Careless's auditors listened with the deepest interest

to his vivid description of the king's hair-breadth 'scapes, but no one

was so excited by the relation as Juliana Coningsby.

From the first moment when she beheld the king's faithful messenger,

Juliana had been struck by his appearance, but when he recounted some

stirring incident in which he himself, as well as his royal master,

had taken part--when his eyes flashed, and the gloom that had hitherto

hung upon his brow was dispersed--she thought him the handsomest man

she had ever beheld, and began to feel an interest in him, such as

she had never before experienced. She was still watching his animated

countenance--still drinking in his accents--when Colonel Wyndham broke

the charm--very unpleasantly to her--by coming in, and announcing that

supper was ready. The party then adjourned to the dining-room, where a

substantial repast awaited them.

CHAPTER IV.

JULIANA CONINGSBY.

Comfortably lodged, and fatigued by his long journey, Careless slept

very soundly, and awoke in better spirits than he had felt since the

sad catastrophe in the gorge of the Avon.

On descending from his room he went forth upon the lawn in front of

the house, and was admiring the range of magnificent elms by which it

was surrounded, when Juliana Coningsby came out of the garden with a

little basket of flowers in her hand, and tripped towards him with a

light footstep across the smooth greensward.

If Careless had been struck by her beauty overnight, he was far more

impressed by it now. Her figure, we have said, was exceedingly light

and graceful, and in her very becoming morning costume, with her blonde

tresses hanging over her shoulders, and her fair complexion slightly

heightened, she looked really charming.

He had persuaded himself that he could never love again, but now that

this exquisite creature stood before him, and greeted him with the

sweetest smile imaginable, and in accents that sounded melodiously in

his ear, he began to think it possible he might do so.

Formal salutations having passed between them, she said:

"Do you know, Major Careless, I have been dreaming all night of the

king's romantic adventures, which you related to us. I quite envy Jane

Lane the part she took in them. I should consider it the greatest

privilege to attend upon his majesty."

"Jane Lane is a person of the highest courage, full of ardour and zeal

for the royal cause," replied Careless. "You must excuse my saying that

very few of your sex would have gone through what she has done."

And a slight shade crossed his features as he spoke.

"It is plain you think I could not do as much," said Juliana, in a

slight tone of pique. "But I am certain I could. To ride on a pillion

behind the king would be an event to remember all one's life. Jane Lane

must feel very proud. Is she good-looking?"

"Remarkably so," rejoined Careless. "I have seen very few persons who

can compare with her. She is not only beautiful but full of spirit. But

you will see her, for she is coming here with the king. Sir Clement

Fisher, to whom she is betrothed, will form one of the party. Should

she succeed in bringing his majesty safe to Trent, her duties will be

at an end, and you can then, if you think proper, assume her post. The

king, I am sure, will be enchanted to have so fair a companion. But the

service is not without great risk."

"There would be no excitement in it--no honour to be won--if there were

no risk," she rejoined. "I hope some circumstance may occur to prove

that I am not inferior to Jane Lane."

While thus conversing, they had moved to a part of the lawn from which

the church was visible. It has been already stated that the beautiful

old structure was quite close to the mansion, and indeed a narrow road

only divided the churchyard from the garden.

"Though the church is so near to us, and contains the family pew,"

said Juliana, "we are prevented from offering our devotions within it.

The worthy rector, the Reverend Richard Langton, has been deprived of

his benefice, and has been succeeded by an Independent minister, and

though the Reverend Lift-up-Hand Meldrum, for so he is named, may be a

very good man, we none of us care to listen to his discourses. We have

prayers at home, and Mr. Langton, who though driven from the rectory,

still resides in the village, officiates as Colonel Wyndham's domestic

chaplain."

As Careless expressed a desire to inspect the sacred edifice, with

which he was much struck, they passed out at a small gate at the

bottom of the garden. A few steps brought them to the entrance to

the churchyard--a quiet spot, full of graves of rounded turf. On the

left of the churchyard stood the old rectory, now occupied by the

Independent minister.

On approaching the church they found the door open and walked in. The

interior of the old fabric was as beautiful as the exterior, and not

much damage had been done to its monuments, though the painted glass

in the windows had been destroyed. A hasty survey of the chancel

sufficed for Careless. As they returned through the churchyard, a tall,

sallow-complexioned personage, in a black gown and Geneva bands, could

be seen standing at the door of the rectory.

"The Reverend Lift-up-Hand Meldrum is watching us," said Juliana.

"Perhaps it would have been more prudent in you not to come here."

"It matters little, I think," said Careless. "If he is inquisitive, he

must have learnt that a stranger has arrived at the manor-house."

"Very true; but he will now discover from your attire that you are a

Cavalier."

They did not return by the garden, but entered the yard, which we have

described as contiguous to the church.

Here they found Colonel Wyndham, who was giving some orders to Peters

and another groom, and after a hearty greeting had passed between

Careless and his host, they proceeded to the stables to look at the

horses. On their return from this inspection, which occupied only a few

minutes, the colonel stopped Careless in the middle of the yard, and

bade him notice the upper windows in the projecting wing of the house.

"Those windows belong to the room which my mother proposes to

relinquish to his majesty," he said. "Below is the kitchen, which we

will visit anon, in order that you may see how the house is arranged.

Notice the little outbuilding on the left, attached to the main

structure. 'Tis a brewhouse, but it is important because the projecting

chimney which you see beyond the gable contains the secret closet

and staircase. On the other side there is an outlet to the garden,

perfectly concealed by shrubs. Now notice the penthouse in the angle of

the building. It has two arches as you will observe, and behind each

is a door, one of which affords an exit and the other an entrance. The

room which his majesty will occupy, possesses the means of exit. Now

come and look at the kitchen."

So saying, he led his guest to a deeply-arched doorway near the

brewhouse, which at once admitted them to a goodly room, occupying

the entire ground floor of this part of the building. The roof was

somewhat low, but it was festooned with hams, and the kitchen contained

an enormous fireplace, at which a baron of beef or a whole sheep might

be roasted. The cook was now busily at work for breakfast, roasting a

brace of partridges, and frying eggs and bacon. Colonel Wyndham did not

disturb her in her occupation, but took Careless into the outbuilding,

and showed him how secret access might be gained to the room above.

"I see exactly what could be done," remarked Careless. "If the house

should be searched, his majesty might come down from the room above,

and, mingling with the servants, would not be observed."

"Precisely," replied Colonel Wyndham.

They then repaired to the dining-room, where they found all the ladies

assembled. With them was the deprived rector of Trent, who dwelt in a

small cottage hard by, but generally took his meals in the house.

The Reverend Mr. Langton's manner was grave, and not devoid of dignity,

and his venerable appearance was heightened by his silver locks. That

the good man bore his losses with resignation was shown by the placid

expression of his countenance. Colonel Wyndham had already explained to

Careless that Mr. Langton must be considered as one of the family, and

that no secrets need be kept from him, adding that the king had not a

more devoted subject than the reverend gentleman.

As will be readily conceived, the king's expected visit engrossed

the thoughts of all concerned in the scheme, and preparations for

his majesty's reception were immediately commenced, though with all

due caution. Lady Wyndham removed to another room; and when Careless

was shown the antique and curious chamber she had just quitted, he

pronounced it admirably adapted to the purpose desired.

Having most successfully accomplished his mission, Careless prepared to

set out to Castle Cary, where he had appointed to meet the king, and

inform him how he had prospered. So charmed were the ladies of Trent

with the very agreeable manners of the king's handsome messenger,

that his departure would have caused them great regret if he had not

promised to return next day, in company with his royal master.

Colonel Wyndham, attended by Harry Peters, rode with his friend as far

as Sherborne. Here they separated, and Careless pursued his journey

alone, proceeding to Milborne Port, and Wincaunton, where he halted for

a short time.

On arriving at the prettily situated little town of Castle Cary, he put

up at an inn where he thought that the king and his companions would

alight. They were not there, but he learnt that a party answering to

their description had gone to the manor-house, then belonging to Mr.

Kirton, who, it subsequently appeared, was well known to Sir Clement

Fisher.

The manor-house was situated on the further side of a hill, on which

the castle had once stood, and thither Careless proceeded on foot. He

did not make himself known at the house, as he was fortunate enough to

find the king in the stable. During the short interview he had with

his majesty, he acquainted him with the entire success of his mission,

and Charles was delighted with the description given him of Trent. In

return, the king informed his attendant that he had left Abbots Leigh

early in the morning, accompanied by Sir Clement Fisher and Jane Lane,

and had encountered no difficulty or interruption during the whole

day's journey.

"Feeling that Jane must be tired of the pillion," he said, "I induced

her to discard it. Like a discreet groom I lagged behind, and left the

lovers to enjoy their conversation unmolested, only joining them when

they seemed tired of each other's society. It would appear that Sir

Clement has been slightly jealous, though he has no reason on earth to

be so; but he is quite cured now, and I am glad of it, for he is a most

excellent fellow."

"All is well, then," said Careless, laughing. "It would have been a sad

thing if the match had been broken off. Has your majesty any further

commands for me?"

"None. We shall start betimes in the morning. You can join us a mile or

two out of the town. Good night!"

Careless then returned to the inn.

CHAPTER V.

HOW CHARLES ARRIVED AT TRENT.

Next day, about an hour before noon, Colonel Wyndham and his lovely

cousin mounted their steeds and rode towards Sherborne to meet the

king. They had not got beyond the colonel's domain when he went into

a field to speak to some of his men, leaving Juliana beneath a tree,

which threw its branches across the road. She had been alone for a few

minutes, when a solitary horseman was seen coming from the direction of

Sherborne.

For a moment her expectations were raised, but as the horseman drew

nearer she judged from his garb and general appearance that he could

only be a farmer's son. Presently the young man rode up, and doffed

his cap respectfully. He was excessively swarthy, and his hair was

clipped very close to his head. With a certain freedom of manner, which

Juliana did not at all like, he inquired whether Colonel Wyndham dwelt

thereabouts.

"The colonel is in yonder field," she replied. "You can go to him, if

you think proper."

"No; I will wait for him here," said the young man. "If I am not

mistaken, you are his cousin, Mistress Juliana Coningsby."

The young lady regarded him haughtily, as much as to say, "What can it

matter to you who I am?"

"Nay, I meant no offence," he said, construing the look correctly. "If

you are Mistress Juliana Coningsby, as I shrewdly suspect, report has

done you scant justice."

Juliana's proud lip slightly curled.

"You are reported to be very handsome, but more might be said,

methinks," continued the young man, scarcely repressing his admiration.

"Thou art a bold fellow to tell me this to my face," cried Juliana.

"I may be bold, but I am not a flatterer," rejoined the young man.

"Truth ought not to be disagreeable, and I have spoken nothing but

truth."

"But were I to say thou art singularly ill-favoured, it would be truth,

yet thou wouldst not like it," remarked Juliana.

"It would certainly be a poor return for my civil speech," rejoined the

young man, laughing. "But if you knew me better you might change your

opinion. I have not always been thought ill-favoured."

"They who thought thee otherwise must have been bad judges, with

whom thy impertinence might pass for wit," said Juliana. "But I will

tolerate no more of it. Stand back, and do not presume to address

me again, or I will acquaint the colonel, and he will punish thy

presumption."

"I am not aware that I have presumed, fair mistress," replied the

other. "But if you deem so, I humbly ask your pardon."

"Ah! here comes the colonel," cried Juliana. "He will read thee a

wholesome lesson for thy freedom of speech."

Colonel Wyndham's approach produced a sudden change in the young man's

demeanour that astonished Juliana.

Pushing forward to the gate, he called out lustily, "Frank, Frank! how

art thou?"

At the sound of this well-known voice the colonel quickened his pace,

exclaiming joyously:

"Welcome, my liege!--welcome! I am rejoiced to see you."

"And I am equally rejoiced to see thee, Frank," cried Charles, heartily.

"'Tis the king!" exclaimed Juliana, in mingled surprise and

consternation. "Oh, sire! pardon my excessive stupidity! I ought to

have recognised your majesty in any disguise. What appears impertinence

in a groom is only condescension in a monarch."

"Oddsfish! I have nothing to pardon," rejoined Charles, laughing. "You

have told me some home truths, that's all. I am very glad I rode on, or

I should have lost this diverting scene. Ah! here they come," he cried,

as Jane Lane and the others appeared in sight.

Next moment the new-comers rode up, and were introduced to Colonel

Wyndham and his fair cousin by Careless. The two young ladies seemed

mutually pleased with each other.

"I must explain that during your stay at Trent you are to be treated

as a near relative of the family," observed Juliana to Jane. "I shall

address you as cousin."

"An excellent arrangement," said Jane. "But my stay must of necessity

be very brief. Having brought his majesty in safety here, my duty is

fulfilled, and I shall return with Sir Clement to-morrow."

"I am sorry to hear that," said Colonel Wyndham. "I hoped you and Sir

Clement would have remained with us for a few days, but I will not

attempt to persuade you to act against your inclinations. Do exactly as

you please."

They then proceeded towards the house, and as they passed through the

village the cottagers rushed to their doors to look at the strangers,

and Charles had to enact his part carefully while he was under their

observation. The Reverend Lift-up-Hand Meldrum likewise came forth from

the rectory, and carefully scrutinised the party, but he paid little

attention to the disguised monarch.

Naturally there was a great deal of bustle in the yard while the party

was dismounting, and Colonel Wyndham seized the opportunity of saying a

few words in private to the king, but some little time elapsed before

his majesty could be taken to the room prepared for him.

[Illustration: THE KING'S ROOM IN TRENT HOUSE.]

In a very few minutes after he had taken possession of the apartment it

was as full of visitors as if he had held a levée.

As a matter of course, the ladies of the house were first presented to

him, and were most graciously received, Charles expressing his warm

obligations to Lady Wyndham for the kindness she had shown him. Mrs.

Wyndham had some pleasant observations made to her, and Juliana was so

charmed with the king's manner that she wondered how she could ever

have been mistaken in regard to him. Mr. Langton was likewise presented

to his majesty, and congratulated him on his escapes.

In this agreeable and sympathetic society Charles passed the

pleasantest hour he had enjoyed for some time. Not one of the persons

present, as he well knew, but was devoted to his cause, and several of

them had given abundant proofs of their devotion. No wonder, then, that

he felt unusually cheerful; and while listening to his lively sallies,

several of those who were present could scarcely believe that they were

uttered by a fugitive king, upon whose head a price was set.

CHAPTER VI.

OF THE PARTING BETWEEN THE KING AND JANE LANE.

Next day, however, Charles's cheerfulness for awhile deserted him.

He had to part with Jane Lane; and though he was fully prepared for

the event, it caused him a much greater pang than he had anticipated.

They had been thrown together so much of late, and she had shown such

deep and disinterested devotion to him, that he had began to regard

her almost as a sister. Throughout their intimate association she had

displayed so many high and noble qualities, such good judgment and

discretion, such untiring zeal and intrepidity, that the king must have

been insensible indeed if he had not rightly estimated her. Jane's

character was so pure, so simple, so irreproachable, that it could not

be misrepresented. Charles looked upon her as a superior being, and

when speaking of her in after years, and alluding to the important

services she had rendered him, always admitted that he had never met

with her like.

He was seated near a small table when she entered the room, followed

by Sir Clement Fisher, who remained near the door, while she

advanced towards him. Her mournful looks announced her purpose. Charles

immediately arose, and prevented her from kneeling to him.

"I am come to take leave of your majesty," she said, in a voice that

betrayed her deep emotion.

"I need not say how grieved I am to part with you, Jane," replied the

king, sadly. "In losing you I lose my guardian angel, and I tremble

lest my good fortune should desert me. To you--under Heaven!--I am

mainly indebted for my preservation."

"If I thought I could render your majesty further assistance nothing

would induce me to quit you," said Jane. "But my task is fulfilled.

Others, equally devoted, and better able to serve you, will perform the

rest. That your speedy deliverance from your foes is at hand I nothing

doubt; and it is that firm conviction which strengthens me at this

moment. My prayers will go with your majesty."

"I thank you from my heart," replied Charles. "I know that I am with

those who are devoted to me, yet somehow I cannot reconcile myself to

parting with you. But I will not be thus selfish," he cried. "I will

not impose needless duties upon you. Others must be considered----"

"Jane has my free consent to remain, if she can be of any further

service to your majesty," said Sir Clement.

"No--no," cried Charles. "She has done too much already. My chief

regret in parting with you, Jane, is that I cannot requite your

services, but a time, I trust, will come when I shall be able to

do so. Of all who have served me, you have the strongest claim to

my gratitude, and the debt shall not remain undischarged. And now,

since the word must be spoken, I will no longer hesitate to pronounce

it--farewell to both! I need not wish you happiness, Sir Clement, since

you will possess a treasure, such as few men have been fortunate enough

to obtain."

"I know it, my liege," replied Sir Clement, earnestly.

Making a profound reverence to the king, Jane then retired, exclaiming

in fervent tones, as she quitted the room:

"Heaven preserve your majesty!"

Charles was much affected by her departure, and remained for some

minutes engrossed by painful reflections.

Roused from his reverie by a noise in the yard, he stepped to the

window, and saw that Jane and Sir Clement had mounted their steeds, and

were bidding adieu to Colonel Wyndham and Juliana. She raised her eyes

for a moment towards the window at which the king was stationed, but he

could not tell whether she perceived him or not. The gate was thrown

open by Peters, hands were waved as they passed through it--and she and

Sir Clement were gone.

CHAPTER VII.

OF THE INTERVIEW BETWEEN THE KING AND SIR JOHN STRANGWAYS IN MELBURY

PARK.

Later on in the day Colonel Wyndham came in to learn the king's

commands, and finding him much depressed, said:

"Your majesty seems cast down by Mistress Jane Lane's departure, and I

do not wonder at it; but I trust you believe that you have friends here

who will serve you as faithfully as she has done."

"I do not doubt it, Frank," sighed Charles. "I have every reliance on

your fidelity."

"It will interest your majesty, I am sure, to be made acquainted with

a prophetic speech uttered by my honored sire, Sir Thomas Wyndham, not

long before his death, in 1636, now some fifteen years ago. Sir Thomas

at the time being dangerously ill, and not likely to recover, called

together his five sons, and spoke to us of the peace and prosperity

which the kingdom had enjoyed during the three last glorious reigns;

but he added, that if the puritanical faction was not controlled it

would inevitably obtain the mastery, and the pillars of government

be undermined. 'My sons,' he added, with a sorrowful expression of

countenance, 'we have hitherto known serene and happy times, but the

sky is growing dark. Clouds and troubles are at hand. But come what

may, I command you to honour and obey the king. Adhere to the crown,

and though it should hang upon a bush I charge you not to forsake it.'

My father's prophetic words made an ineffaceable impression on us all.

Since then three of his sons and a grandson have died while fighting

for the good cause. But the dark and troublous times, to which he

prophetically referred, have arrived. Fanatics and regicides prevail.

The crown itself hangs on a bush."

"Truly it does," remarked Charles.

"But it will not fall. It will rest there till placed on your

majesty's head. Heaven, as I firmly believe, has reserved me for a

great work--has brought me safely through many and great dangers, in

order that I may prove myself a dutiful son and a loyal subject, by

faithfully serving your majesty in your hour of greatest need. It has

occurred to me, that my neighbour, Sir John Strangways, of Melbury

Park, may be useful to your majesty. Sir John, I need scarcely say, is

a staunch Royalist, and has given abundant proofs of his loyalty. His

two sons were colonels in the army of your late royal father. He has

friends at Weymouth, and I think he can procure you a vessel there.

With your permission I will ride over to Melbury to-day, and see him."

"I will ride with you, if it can be managed," cried Charles.

"It can be easily managed, my liege, if you will deign to take Juliana

Coningsby on a pillion behind you."

"Nothing could please me better," cried Charles. "I shall greatly enjoy

the ride."

"And Melbury is a very fine park, and contains some noble oaks," said

the colonel. "We will set out at once."

Descending the back staircase, they then proceeded to the stable,

where they found Peters, to whom the colonel gave all necessary

instructions, after which, he returned to the house to inform Juliana

of the arrangement. Greatly delighted she flew to her room to make

some needful change in her toilet, while Careless, who desired to be

included in the party, and felt certain the king would be glad of his

company, marched off to the stable. Shortly afterwards the horses were

brought out. Juliana looked charming in her riding-dress, and her

cheeks glowed and her eyes sparkled as she took her seat on the pillion

behind the king. No doubt it was a great event in her life, and she did

not attempt to conceal her delight. Careless rather envied the king his

fair companion.

The road to Melbury Park, which was about eight or nine miles distant

from Trent, led them through Over Compton and past the commanding

eminence known as Babylon Hill. Proceeding thence through the beautiful

valley of the Yeo, after halting for a short time to examine the noble

old church of Bradford Abbas, the party rode on past Bradford Mill, and

along the banks of the river to Yetminster. The pretty little village

of Melbury Osmund, which adjoined the park, was next reached.

As the day was extremely fine, and the scenery enchanting, Charles

greatly enjoyed the ride. Moreover, he had a very lively companion, who

exerted herself to amuse him, and succeeded perfectly.

Melbury Park, which they shortly afterwards entered, was exceedingly

picturesque and beautiful, and, as Colonel Wyndham had stated,

contained some noble old oaks. Among them was a huge patriarch of

the forest, the trunk of which was enormous. The tree has been well

described as a "curly, surly, knotty old monster."

"That old tree is called Billy Wilkins, my liege--wherefore I know

not," remarked Colonel Wyndham.

"It deserves a better appellation," replied Charles, laughing. "But you

will find us near it when you return. Off with you to the house."

"Shall I bring Sir John to your majesty?"

"As you please."

Colonel Wyndham then rode off at a rapid pace towards the ancient

mansion.

Nothing could be more charming than the situation of Melbury House.

At the rear was a noble grove of trees, while the green lawn in front

sloped down to a beautiful lake. With its lofty tower and numerous

gables, the old edifice presented a most picturesque appearance, and

this effect was heightened by the pinnacles of an ancient church which

could just be seen above the trees.

Charles did not long remain stationary beneath the rugged old oak, but

rode to such points as commanded the best view of the house. Familiar

with the park, Juliana pointed out its chief beauties to him.

Having finished his survey, he returned to the place of rendezvous.

They were examining the gnarled trunk of Billy Wilkins, and wondering

what the age of the old monster could be, when the colonel was seen

coming back from the house.

Riding by his side was an elderly personage, whom Juliana at once

proclaimed to be Sir John Strangways. Charles regarded him with great

interest, for he was a perfect specimen of an old Cavalier--his attire,

hat, doublet, hose, and boots belonging to the days of his majesty's

grandsire, James I.

Turning his horse's head towards them, Charles awaited the approach of

the pair, while Careless placed himself on his majesty's left.

On being presented to the king by Colonel Wyndham, Sir John Strangways

uncovered his white flowing locks, and bowed reverently.

"I am glad to see you, Sir John," cried Charles. "Had it been safe for

me to do so, I would have ridden up to your house."

"I should have been greatly honoured by the visit, my liege," replied

the old Cavalier. "But I would not have you incur any risk on my

account. I render thanks to Heaven that you are in safety, and I pray

that you may speedily be delivered from your enemies. Colonel Wyndham

has explained your majesty's wishes, and it deeply grieves me that

I am unable to procure a vessel to convey you to France. All the

ship-masters whom I knew at Weymouth and Poole have been banished for

their loyalty. Those left are rebels and Roundheads. Some trustworthy

man may possibly be found at Lyme, but I have no acquaintance there,

and might do your majesty more harm than good by making inquiries.

Colonel Wyndham can serve you far better than I can."

"It would seem so, Sir John," rejoined Charles, coldly; "and I shall

therefore rely upon him."

"I pray your majesty not to attribute my non-compliance with your

wishes to want of zeal," said Sir John. "I dare not promise more than

I may be able to perform, but I am quite ready to obey your behests."

"I have no commands to give, Sir John," said Charles, still more

coldly. "Colonel Wyndham led me to believe you had the power to assist

me, but I find he was in error."

"I have the will, but not the power, my liege. I can offer you a secure

asylum at Melbury."

"I am already provided with a secure asylum," said the king.

"Possibly your majesty may require funds. I have brought with me three

hundred broad pieces--all I have in my coffers."

And as he spoke he took a leather bag from his saddle-bow.

"Put back the bag, Sir John," said Charles. "I do not require the

money."

And he made a movement as if about to depart.

"For Heaven's sake stay, my gracious liege, and say something kind to

him," whispered Juliana to the king. "You will break the old man's

heart if you depart thus. I will answer for it that he is devoted to

your majesty."

"Well, perhaps, I have been too easily moved," replied Charles in the

same low tone. "I have bethought me, Sir John," he added to him. "I may

need this money, and I will therefore borrow it from you. Take the bag,

Careless. That you are sincere in your professions of zeal I nothing

doubt, but I now want energetic action."

"Were my sons at home, my liege," said Sir John, whose accents showed

that he was much distressed, "they would procure you a vessel, I am

certain. But I am too old----"

"Enough!" cried the king. "I have been too hasty in my judgment. I

perceive that I was wrong."

And as he spoke he extended his hand towards the old Cavalier, which

the other pressed gratefully to his lips.

This gracious action operated like balm upon Sir John's wounded

feelings. He attended the king to the park gate, and as they rode

thither, Charles conversed with him in the most affable manner, and

completely effaced all painful impressions.

CHAPTER VIII.

HOW THE KING HEARD THE PARTICULARS OF HIS OWN DEATH AND BURIAL.

The party rode back as cheerfully as they came. Though disappointed by

the result of the interview with Sir John Strangways, Colonel Wyndham

did not seem discouraged, but said he had another plan to propose to

his majesty. However, an unlooked for occurrence had taken place during

their absence.

When about a mile from Trent, they were greatly surprised by hearing

the church bells ring out a loud and joyous peal. Mingled with these

sounds was the occasional discharge of a musket. What could have

happened to call forth such manifestations? Not even Colonel Wyndham

could conjecture. But as they drew near the village, they learnt that a

small troop of Cromwell's horse that had fought at Worcester had just

arrived, and had proclaimed the utter rout of the royal army--adding

the important, and as they declared authentic intelligence, that the

Malignant Prince himself had been slain, and buried among a heap of his

misguided followers.

News then reached a retired village like Trent so slowly, that only

vague rumours of the decisive battle had been hitherto received. But

here were men who, having fought at the great fight, could not be

discredited.

The inhabitants of Trent, most of whom were fanatics, were greatly

elated by the news, and desired to have the bells rung, and to this

their minister willingly assented. They were also preparing to feast

the victorious troopers, and at night there were to be bonfires and

other rejoicings.

Charles laughed when he learnt these particulars of his own death and

burial, and not unreasonably thought that further search for him was

not likely to be made in this quarter.

As they went on, they found that the churchyard was filled by the

villagers, while a score or more red-coats had tied up their horses in

the yard of the mansion, and were now regaling themselves on the cold

viands and ale with which they had compelled Mrs. Wyndham to supply

them.

His house being thus in the hands of the enemy, it behoved Colonel

Wyndham to be careful how he approached it, but Peters met him before

he reached the gate, and hastily explaining what had happened, told him

the red-coats had behaved quietly enough as yet, and would no doubt

depart peaceably if they were not thwarted.

Acting on this advice, the colonel, on entering the yard, addressed a

few words to the soldiers, telling them he was glad to see them, and

adding that they should have as much ale as they liked. The prudence of

this course was soon shown. The men thanked him, and allowed him and

Careless to pass on unquestioned, but Charles was not quite so lucky. A

stalwart trooper laid hold of his bridle, and declared he must give an

account of himself.

"I will answer for him," cried Juliana. "He is my groom, and as true a

man as ever breathed."

"True to whom?" demanded the trooper, gruffly.

"To the Parliament, to be sure," said Charles. "I am ready to drink Old

Noll's health."

"Coupled with the wish that he may soon be king?" said the trooper.

"I forbid him to drink that toast," cried Juliana.

"Why so, fair mistress?" demanded the trooper, knitting his brows.

"Because it would be treason to the state," she rejoined.

"Nay, friend, I have no such scruples," remarked Charles, in an

undertone to the trooper. "I will bring you a stoop of good liquor

anon, and then we will drink any toast you please."

"Verily, thou art a true man," rejoined the trooper. "Thou shalt learn

to whom thou speakest. I am Fetch-him-out-of-the-Pulpit Strongitharm,

by whose hand the young man Charles Stuart was slain."

"Was Charles Stuart slain by thee?" exclaimed the king.

"Yea, verily by me," rejoined Strongitharm, exultingly. "The buff coat

which I now wear forms part of the spoils taken from the body of the

Malignant Prince. Pass on."

As may well be imagined, old Lady Wyndham and her daughter-in-law were

in great consternation at this visit, but owing to the prudent and

conciliatory measures adopted by Harry Peters, the annoyance was very

slight. Some of the troopers certainly entered the house, but they did

not get beyond the kitchen, where they were very well entertained.

Charles, however, was obliged to remain in the stables, and to mingle

with the red-coats, but he comported himself so well that no suspicion

whatever attached to him. How could it, indeed, when after listening

to a further account from Strongitharm of his own death and burial, he

emphatically declared that England had had a great deliverance!

Later on in the day, the troopers marched off for Yeovil, where they

meant to pass the night. The inmates of Trent House were thus relieved

from anxiety, and Charles was able to return to his room.

At dusk, bonfires were lighted by the sectarian villagers to celebrate

Cromwell's great victory at Worcester. The flames could be seen from

the king's windows, and the shouts reached his ears.

"'Tis Cromwell's turn now--it may be mine to-morrow," remarked Charles

to Mr. Langton, who was with him at the time.

"Heaven grant it!" exclaimed the divine. "This poor misguided folk

will shout quite as loudly as they do now--ay, and light just as large

bonfires when your majesty is happily restored to the throne."

The next day passed very tranquilly at Trent House. After an agreeable

walk in the garden with the fair Juliana, whose lively talk helped to

chase away the gloom which, despite all his efforts, began to steal

upon him, Charles had returned to his room, and was conferring with

Careless as to what ought to be done, when Colonel Wyndham came in,

with a letter in his hand, and having a very joyful expression of

countenance.

"I have just received a piece of information that promises to make

amends for our disappointment of yesterday," he said. "My friend, and

your majesty's most loyal subject, Colonel Bullen Reymes, of Wadden, in

Dorsetshire, writes me word that he has succeeded in obtaining for Sir

John Berkeley a passage to France through Captain William Ellesdon, of

Lyme Regis. I am not personally acquainted with Captain Ellesdon, but I

know him to be a man of strict honour and a staunch Royalist--as indeed

this action proves him. What he has done for Sir John Berkeley he can

do for your majesty."

"Oddsfish! this Captain Ellesdon seems to be the very man we require,"

cried Charles. "But how comes it you never thought of him before?"

"He did occur to me, my liege," replied the colonel. "But though I felt

sure of his desire to serve your majesty, I doubted his ability. Now

I entertain a very different opinion. With your majesty's approval, I

will ride over to Lyme to-morrow and see him."

"Do so, by all means," cried Charles, eagerly. "Careless shall go with

you. The plan holds out every prospect of success. Captain Ellesdon, I

conclude, can be told for whom the vessel is to be hired?"

"You may entirely confide in him, sire," replied the colonel. "He is

loyalty itself, and will feel honoured by being thus employed."

"Then see him without delay," cried Charles, rising from his seat, and

pacing the room with manifest signs of impatience. "I am eager to be

off. Can you not set out this evening? Nay, I am taxing your loyalty

too strongly."

"Not a whit, my liege," replied the colonel. "I will obey you in

everything. Major Careless and myself will start this evening. We will

sleep at Axminster, and ride thence betimes to-morrow to Lyme."

"You are a zealous friend, indeed, Frank," cried Charles, looking well

pleased.

"With this important matter on my mind, sire, I shall not be able to

rest till I have seen Captain Ellesdon," said the colonel. "Are you

prepared to start so soon?" he added to Careless.

"I need only five minutes to saddle my horse," replied the other.

"Should a satisfactory arrangement be made, your majesty shall be

immediately apprised of it," said Colonel Wyndham. "I shall take Harry

Peters with me."

Thereupon the conference ended, and Colonel Wyndham quitted the king to

give such instructions to his wife as he deemed necessary before his

departure.

CHAPTER IX.

CAPTAIN ELLESDON, OF LYME REGIS.

Evening was coming on when Colonel Wyndham and Careless, attended by

Peters--all three being well mounted and well armed--quitted Trent on

the important mission.

At Yeovil they learnt that the troopers who had troubled them on

the previous day had marched on to Crewkerne, and fearing some

interruption, they made a slight détour, in order to avoid the latter

place.

Their road led through a very charming country, but its beauties were

lost to them owing to the darkness, and they were not sorry to arrive,

after a two hours' ride, at the picturesque old town of Axminster,

where they put up at a very comfortable hostel.

Next morning, after an early breakfast, they quitted the inn, and took

the road to Lyme Regis.

On this side of Axminster the environs of the old town were extremely

beautiful. Grey-thatched, white-walled cottages skirted the road,

and attached to most of these pretty little habitations were

apple-orchards, while green slopes in their vicinity, shaded by trees,

lent a peculiar charm to the scene.

Very soon the cottages and orchards were left behind, and the horsemen

began to mount a lofty hill, from the brow of which a magnificent

prospect was obtained--comprehending extensive views into the two

fair counties of Dorset and Devon, long ranges of hills, varied in

form--some crowned with woods, others wild and bare, or covered only

with becoming heather and gorse--and wide deep valleys, through each of

which a small river took its way towards the sea.

After halting for a few minutes to breathe their steeds and enjoy this

splendid panorama, the horsemen descended the further side of the hill,

and on reaching the valley, found a charming little village, nestled

among trees, consisting of a few habitations and an ancient church.

Nothing can be finer than the ride between Axminster and Lyme Regis.

Two lofty hills have to be crossed, each commanding splendid views,

though totally differing in character. Cultivated almost to the summit,

and divided into small patches by innumerable hedgerows, the hills have

a most pleasing effect. But the prospect is ever varying, and as the

point of view is continually shifted, new beauties are displayed.

Our horsemen had now mounted the second hill, and were approaching

Uplyme, when a glorious view burst upon them. A vast expanse of ocean,

smooth as a mirror, and glittering in sunshine, lay before them; while

on the left stretched out a bay, girded by bold and precipitous cliffs.

The hills to which these cliffs belonged rose to a great height, the

loftiest among them being known as the Golden Cap, on the summit of

which a signal was placed, distinguishable far out on the main. The

long sweeping line of coast was terminated by the Isle of Portland,

which, as the morning was remarkably clear, could be distinctly

descried.

Again the horsemen halted for a few minutes to gaze at this splendid

view. Careless gave utterance to his admiration, and Colonel Wyndham

showed him where Charmouth and Bridport were situated, and pointed out

the Golden Cap, of which mention has just been made.

Hitherto Lyme itself had almost been hidden by intervening woods, but

after they had passed through Uplyme, they could look down upon the

collection of straggling and picturesque houses, built on the steep

side of the hill on which the spectators were stationed.

Desirous that his companion should have a more complete view of the

place than could be obtained from the road, Colonel Wyndham turned into

a field on the right, and conducted him to the edge of a lofty cliff

that overlooked the port and the buildings adjoining it.

"That is Lyme Cobb, as it is termed," said the colonel. "There are a

few vessels in the port, as you perceive. Heaven grant we may be able

to secure one of them for the king!"

When Careless had sufficiently examined the Cobb from the lofty point

of observation they had chosen, they returned to the road, and soon

gained the narrow and straggling street that climbed the hill-side.

Captain Ellesdon's residence was easily discovered, and the colonel

and Careless proceeded thither on foot, while Peters took their horses

to the George Inn. A narrow lane on the right led them to a commodious

habitation, very pleasantly situated on a natural terrace facing the

sea.

On inquiring at the house they learnt to their great satisfaction that

Captain Ellesdon was at home, and were shown into a comfortable and

well-furnished parlour, where the captain shortly afterwards joined

them.

Captain Ellesdon was a man of middle age, with nothing very striking in

his appearance, but his features were good, and his manner frank and

prepossessing. The captain stood upon no ceremony with his visitors.

Though not personally acquainted with Colonel Wyndham, he knew him, and

shook hands with him very cordially. By the colonel he was introduced

to Careless, and shook hands with him as well.

"Pray sit down, gentlemen," he said, "and tell me how I can serve you."

"You can serve us most materially, Captain Ellesdon," returned the

colonel; "and I will explain how. I have just heard from my friend

Colonel Bullen Reymes, of Wadden, that you have enabled Sir John

Berkeley to escape from his pursuers by procuring him a passage

from this port to France. Can you do as much for a far more exalted

personage than Sir John, and who is in yet greater peril from his

enemies?"

"Do I misunderstand you, Colonel Wyndham?" demanded Ellesdon, almost

breathless with astonishment. "Do you allude to the king?"

"I ought to bind you to secrecy, sir, before answering the question,"

said the colonel. "But I know I am dealing with a loyal gentleman."

"You may trust me implicitly, colonel," rejoined the captain. "But if

an oath be requisite, I swear solemnly not to reveal whatever you may

disclose to me."

"After this, I will not hesitate to ask you plainly if you can procure

a vessel to transport his majesty to France?"

"Do not let the hire of the vessel be a consideration, captain," said

Careless. "I am charged by his majesty to offer any terms that may be

required."

"Too large a sum must not be offered, or it would excite suspicion,"

rejoined Captain Ellesdon. "The skipper we engage must be led

to believe that his passengers are only fugitive Cavaliers from

Worcester--nothing higher. I know a shipmaster who is an honest fellow,

and a perfect Royalist, but for all that, I would not trust him with

this great secret."

"Is the shipmaster you refer to in Lyme now, captain?" inquired

Careless, eagerly.

"His vessel is in the Cobb, but he himself is at Charmouth. He is a

tenant of mine, by name Stephen Limbry. Yesterday I chanced to enter

the Custom House, and I found that Limbry had just entered his bark,

intending a speedy voyage to St. Malo."

"To St. Malo!" exclaimed Careless, joyfully. "The very port to which

his majesty desires to sail. Nothing could be more fortunate."

"A most fortunate circumstance indeed," said Colonel Wyndham. "It would

seem as if Providence designed that the king should be thus delivered

from his foes. You must see Stephen Limbry without delay, captain."

"We will all ride over to Charmouth together," said Ellesdon. "'Tis but

a mile hence. Your horses, I suppose, are at the inn? I will follow you

there as soon as I can get my own horse saddled."

Colonel Wyndham and Careless then proceeded to the George, which was in

the lower part of the town, and they had only just got out their horses

when Captain Ellesdon made his appearance, mounted on a stout hackney.

"We will ride by the coast, if you please, gentlemen," he said. "The

tide is low, and the sands are firm and good."

CHAPTER X.

STEPHEN LIMBRY OF CHARMOUTH, SHIP-MASTER.

A wide opening on the right, at the bottom of the street, led to the

seaside, and turning off in this direction, the party crossed the

shingles and soon gained the hard sand, which was very pleasant to

ride upon. But before proceeding, they stopped for a moment to look

around. On the right, about a quarter of a mile off, was the Cobb, in

which, as we have already intimated, a few vessels were moored, while

somewhat nearer a dozen fishing-boats were lying at anchor, waiting for

a favourable breeze. Some little bustle seemed going on at the Cobb,

but otherwise the place was perfectly quiet. The huge wooden pier then

in existence did not last out the century, and was succeeded by three

or four other structures that shared the same fate; but Lyme is now

provided with a handsome stone pier strong enough to resist any storms,

and large enough to shelter any number of ships. Between the Cobb and

the spot where Captain Ellesdon and those with him were stationed rose

high banks, covered with trees, amidst which an occasional habitation

might be descried. Now there are numberless charming villas in the same

quarter.

Having contemplated this scene for a few minutes, the party set off for

Charmouth. Harry Peters's services not being required, he was left at

the George. Exhilarated by the sea air, Colonel Wyndham and Careless

greatly enjoyed their ride over the hard, dry sands--now glancing at

the tall, black, shelving cliffs as they passed them--now allowing

their gaze to wander on as far as the distant Isle of Portland. But

their pleasant ride soon came to an end, and in less than a quarter of

an hour they had reached the spot where the little river Char loses

itself in the sea. Three or four boats were drawn upon the beach,

but there was not even a solitary fisherman's hut on the sand-hills.

Now-a-days, this is a bathing-place.

"I have brought you to this spot for a particular reason," observed

Captain Ellesdon to the others. "Here Sir John Berkeley took boat on

the night when he effected his escape to France, and if we arrange

matters satisfactorily, I propose that his majesty shall join Limbry's

bark from the same place. No safer spot can be found, I am certain.

There is not a habitation within a quarter of a mile."

"'Tis as private as could be desired," said Colonel Wyndham. "And I am

sure his majesty will approve of the arrangement."

"It has other advantages, which I need not enter into now," said

Ellesdon.

"No; the perfect privacy of the spot is sufficient recommendation,"

said Careless. "If we can secure the vessel all will be well."

They then quitted the beach, and rode singly along a narrow lane which

led them over an eminence to Charmouth.

This pretty and pleasantly situated little town is much changed since

those days. Most of the old houses are gone, and have given place to

modern habitations far less picturesque, but the general features of

the place are the same, and the old inn at which the Royalists put up,

as we shall proceed to relate, is still in existence.

As they entered the village, Captain Ellesdon pointed out a pretty

little house with a garden in front, and said:

"That is Limbry's dwelling. I will see whether he is at home."

He then rode towards the house, and calling out lustily, the summons

was immediately answered by a buxom woman and her daughter, a

good-looking damsel of some sixteen or seventeen.

In answer to the captain's inquiries, Dame Limbry informed him that her

husband had just gone out, but would return presently.

"He has not gone to Lyme, I hope?" said the captain.

"No; he is somewhere in the village," replied the dame.

"That's right," cried Ellesdon. "I am going to the inn with these

gentlemen. Send him there. I want to speak to him on business--on

important business, mind."

Dame Limbry promised compliance, and the captain rode off. Not being

devoid of curiosity, both mother and daughter watched the party alight

at the inn, which was close at hand.

"I wonder what Captain Ellesdon's important business can be," remarked

Dame Limbry. "I shall make your father tell me."

"Such fine gentlemen as those can't be traders," said her daughter.

"They look like Cavaliers."

"And Cavaliers they are, Dorcas, or I'm no judge," said the dame.

Meanwhile Captain Ellesdon and his companions, having sent their horses

to the stable, entered the little inn, and being shown into the parlour

by Dame Swan, the hostess, ordered a flask of sack.

Just as the wine was brought, Stephen Limbry made his appearance,

and was heartily welcomed. The shipmaster was stoutly built, and his

bronzed complexion showed that he had undergone a good deal of exposure

to the elements. His features were rather coarse, but he had a bluff,

good-humoured expression, and looked perfectly honest and trustworthy.

Saluting the company after his nautical fashion, Limbry sat down, and

emptied the cup of sack filled for him by Captain Ellesdon.

"My good dame tells me as how you have got some business for me,

captain. What may it be?"

"Take another glass of sack, Stephen, and you shall hear," rejoined

Ellesdon. "I have assured my friends here, Mr. Manly and Mr. Massey,"

nodding to each, as he spoke, "that you are a right honest fellow and a

staunch Royalist."

"You are pleased to give me a good character, captain," said Limbry,

laughing. "But I hope I merit it. At any rate, I serve my employers

faithfully, and I hate a Roundhead woundily."

"I am quite aware of it, Limbry. And now, without further parley, I'll

explain my business to you. These gentlemen are Royalists."

"I guessed as much," replied Limbry, with a knowing wink. "They don't

look like Roundheads."

"One of them, Mr. Massey," pursued the captain, glancing at Careless,

"was at Worcester."

"I hope he killed a lot of rebels. I shouldn't be sorry if he had

killed Old Noll himself," observed Limbry.

"Had that been the case things would have taken a different turn, and

loyal men would not have been forced to fly from their country," said

Captain Ellesdon. "We want you to transport two or three distressed

Cavaliers to France. You will do it, I am sure."

Limbry shook his head.

"You don't like the job," cried Colonel Wyndham. "Say so frankly."

"Understand that you will be well paid--very well paid," added Careless.

"I've no disinclination whatsomdever to the job," said the burly

shipmaster. "On the contrary, I should be glad to serve any loyal

gentlemen; and I don't care so much for the payment, though I don't

mean to say as how I should object to it--but----"

"But what?" cried Ellesdon.

"The risk is too great. If I were found out, I should be hanged as a

traitor."

"These fears are idle," rejoined Ellesdon. "Such precautions will be

taken that you cannot be found out. Take another glass of wine, and

pluck up your courage. I'll tell you what has just occurred. Sir John

Berkeley was taken over to France from this very port of Lyme, only a

few days ago, and I have not heard that any skipper has been hanged for

taking him."

"Be that true, captain?" asked Limbry.

"True as gospel. Do you think I'd deceive you, man?"

"Then I'll do it!" cried Limbry, striking the table as he spoke with

his heavy fist. "I'll do it!"

"Well resolved," exclaimed Colonel Wyndham. "You're a brave fellow,

Limbry."

"You shall have sixty pounds for the job," added Careless. "To be paid

on your return."

"I don't ask the Cavaliers' names," said Limbry. "And I don't desire to

know their rank and station--but I'll take them to St. Malo."

"Now you show yourself the man I always thought you, Stephen," said

Captain Ellesdon. "When will you sail?"

"On Monday next--that's three days hence," replied Limbry. "I cannot

get ready afore,--seeing as how I have to take in ballast, and victual

the ship, besides I must feign to have some lading; but on Monday, as I

have said, I'll hale the _Eider Duck_--that's the name of my bark--out

of the Cobb's mouth, for fear of being beneaped, as the tides will

be at the lowest at the time, and about midnight I'll bring her into

Charmouth road, and send the long-boat with Tom Chidiock, of Bridport,

and George Cranage, of Beaminster, two of my best mariners, to any spot

that may be appointed to fetch the Cavaliers, and put them on board;

and if the wind proves favourable, we'll set sail at once for France."

"Heaven grant the wind may prove favourable!" ejaculated Ellesdon.

"Send the long-boat to the mouth of the Char."

"A good spot," replied Limbry. "It shall be done."

"Then all is settled?" said Colonel Wyndham.

"All settled. Rely on me. Stephen Limbry is a man of few words, but

he'll stick by what he says. On Monday next, at midnight, my men shall

bring the long-boat to the mouth of the Char."

"I shall see you again before that, Limbry," said Captain Ellesdon.

"As you please, captain," replied the skipper. "The _Eider Duck_ will

be ready. I wish you good day, gentlemen."

Thereupon he went out, leaving the others overjoyed at the result of

the negotiation.

CHAPTER XI.

OF THE ARRANGEMENTS MADE BY HARRY PETERS WITH DAME SWAN.

Our three Royalists did not make any stay at the little inn

at Charmouth, after their negotiation with Limbry had been so

satisfactorily concluded, but ordered their horses, paid their

reckoning, and departed. They did not return by the beach, Captain

Ellesdon being desirous to show his companions a secluded farm-house

belonging to his father, about a mile and a half off among the downs,

where he thought the king should halt on the appointed day, before

proceeding to Charmouth.