About nine o’clock on the following morning, Hildebrand, covered
with dust, and mounted on a jaded and travel-worn horse,
having ridden all night, drew up at the gate of the palace of
Westminster. Announcing himself as a messenger from the Lord
Admiral, he was forthwith conducted to Sir Ferdinand Georges; and
by that personage, who officiated as Lord Chamberlain, marshalled
to the presence of the Queen.
“An officer from my Lord Admiral, your Highness!” said Sir
Ferdinand, on their entry.
The Queen started to her feet.
“What news, friend?” she cried to Hildebrand.
“God save your Highness!” replied Hildebrand, dropping on one
knee at her feet. “The Spanish armada is overcome!”
There was a pause for a moment, when a half-suppressed buzz, in
which the Queen herself joined, broke from every one present.
“Now, God be thanked!” the Queen then cried, in a fervent tone.
“Where is my Lord Admiral’s report?”
“His Lordship was so eager to advertise your Highness of the
victory,” answered Hildebrand, “that he deferred writing thereon,
and sends his report by word of mouth. Sixteen ships of the enemy
have been captured, eight blown into the air, and five, after
a hard struggle, dismasted and sunk. The remainder have been
dispersed.”
“’Tis a victory without parallel!” said the Queen. “What is thy
name?”
“Hildebrand Clifford, my liege.”
“Ah!” cried the Queen. “We have had a good report of thee afore,
and owe thee a meed. Give us thy sword, Sir!”
Hildebrand, still kneeling, drew forth his sword, and, with a
low bow, placed it in the Queen’s hand. As she caught its hilt,
the Queen raised it in the air, and slapped it lustily on his
shoulder.
“In the name of God, rise up, Sir Hildebrand Clifford, knight!”
she exclaimed.
Hildebrand, though without being elated--for he had now no savour
of earthly distinctions--received back his sword, and sprang to
his feet.
“I thank your Highness?” he said.
“Let us see thee here often,” replied the Queen, with a smile,
“and before long, too. But, for the present, get thee hence, and
betake thee to rest; for we must straight pen a proclamation of
thy news to our loving subjects.”
With these words, she extended him her small hand; and, again
bending his knee, he raised it to his lips. Then, with a low bow,
he rose to his feet, and made his egress.
His flattering reception at court, so much beyond what he could
have expected, had affected his spirits but very slightly,
and, though he was far from looking dejected, his countenance
presented no trace of that fine, healthful buoyancy, which
had once been its characteristic. The complexion of his mind
was no less grave and rigid. The oppressive sense of remorse,
indeed, which had arisen out of his connexion with Inez, had
now subsided, but it had left behind it a deep and settled
impression, very painful to endure. He looked at the issue of his
suit with Evaline, on which he had built his every hope, with a
sort of passionless sorrow--fixed and rooted, although free from
despair! He was not sunk in despair! His fine sense of enjoyment,
his elasticity of spirit, and his lightness of heart, it cannot
be denied, were lost; but his mind retained its vigour, and never
thought of bending before its bitter affliction.
On mounting his horse, he determined, as he knew no place
nearer, to repair to the inn he had formerly lodged at, at
Aldgate; and there take some repose. He rode along slowly, and
was not ignorant that, as he progressed, he became an object of
curiosity to the various passers-by, probably from his grave and
travel-worn aspect. But, however he might look in their eyes, the
several wayfarers, certainly, looked no way cheerful in his; for
every individual face seemed full of anxiety and concern.
Though the hour was now advanced, the princely city, usually so
lively and bustling, was hardly astir, and, in the terror of
the expected invasion, all business was at a standstill. The
unnatural repose became perfectly distressing as Hildebrand
entered the Strand. Anxious to escape the view of it, he was
about to spur on quicker, when, to his surprise, some one in his
rear called to him by name, and brought him to a stand. It was
Bernard Gray.
A thrill of pleasure, such as he had not felt for some time, shot
through Hildebrand’s bosom, as he discerned his well-approved
friend; and, quickly alighting, he caught him eagerly by the hand.
“What news from the fleet?” cried Bernard, before he could
address him.
“The armada is overcome!” answered Hildebrand.
“Go to! Blessed be the Lord!” ejaculated Bernard. “But why
lookest thou so mournful, Hildebrand?”
Hildebrand averted his head.
“Ah! is it even so?” cried Bernard. “Well, be of good heart!
Shedlock and his wife are dead; I have approved thy mother’s
marriage; and thy birthright, which thou fear’dst was lost, is
restored to thee. Thou art now the possessor of Clifford Place.”
“Ah, my good Bernard! what avail is it now?” answered Hildebrand.
“These toys can please me no more.”
“Be of better heart!” rejoined Bernard. “The Spaniard, Don Felix,
who was here of late, hath betook him to Spain, being advised by
me that I would otherwise attach him as a spy.”
Hildebrand made no reply.
“Further,” resumed Bernard, “I have read the letter thou didst
write me to Sir Edgar de Neville, and, I promise thee, his
worship’s bearing thereat was exceeding kind.”
“But what said Evaline?” asked Hildebrand.
“I saw not her,” answered Bernard, “but only the knight. As I
read thy letter to him, he would seize me, now and anon, eagerly
by the hand, and cry me--‘My poor boy! my brave Hildebrand!’
and, in conclusion, he said, ‘’t was well done--excellent well
done;’ and he would unfold it to his fair daughter, so he would.”
“And did he?” asked Hildebrand, anxiously.
“That know I not,” replied Bernard. “But let us forward! I have
some business in the Temple here, with one Master Gilbert, a
lawyer; and, afterwards, thou shalt command me. Let us thither
together!”
Hildebrand offered no objection to his proposal; and, remounting
his horse, they set forward, and proceeded towards the Temple.
They shortly arrived thither; and Hildebrand, by Bernard’s
direction, then gave his horse in care of one of the porters, and
alighted.
The lodgings of Master Gilbert, Bernard’s lawyer, were just
within the Temple-gate, on an upper floor, looking out on
Temple-bar. They soon gained access to the lower floor, the door
of which was open. Within, on their entry, they found three
individuals--one of whom was Master Gilbert’s scrivener, or
clerk; and the remaining two, who were no other than Abigail and
Zedekiah, have already appeared on the stage of our history.
The two servants, who had been sitting down just before, started
up on the appearance of Bernard, and advanced to accost him.
“Who are these?” inquired Hildebrand.
“The servants of the Lord,” answered Abigail.
Bernard smiled. “They are poor, honest clowns,” he said to
Hildebrand, “whom I would, with thy leave, provide for in thy
household.”
“Have it so!” returned Hildebrand. “But where didst thou pick
them up?”
“They were the servants of Shedlock,” replied Bernard.
“’Twas a goodly sight--a night-burying!” remarked Zedekiah.
“Ay, ay, but be of good cheer!” said Bernard. “You hear, you have
both a provision! Now, Master Hildebrand, let us on!”
Without more words, he led the way up a contiguous staircase,
followed by Hildebrand. On reaching the summit, he paused before
a neighbouring door, leading to Master Gilbert’s chamber, which,
without tarrying to solicit admittance, he immediately threw open.
As the door was thus thrown back, Hildebrand’s glance fell, not
on the hard countenance of the lawyer, but on the faces of Sir
Edgar and Evaline. It required but that one glance, brief as
it was, to assure him that he was forgiven--that the height of
earthly fruition was still his; and, with a heart overflowing
with joy, he darted into the chamber, and caught Evaline in his
arms.
“Mine!--my own true love!” he exclaimed, as he pressed the
blushing girl to his bosom.
“And with my free consent,” smiled Sir Edgar, in broken accents.
Hildebrand could not speak for a moment.
“When?” he said, at length.
“To-morrow, an’ it so like thee,” answered Sir Edgar.
Hildebrand, still holding Evaline to his bosom, bent down to her
ear.
“Shall it be so, sweet Evaline?” he whispered.
The fair girl, whether overcome with her emotion, or restrained
by those delicate scruples of her sex, which constitute the charm
of modesty, rendered him no oral reply, but gently pressed his
trembling hand. As she did so, a loud flourish of trumpets, that
made the ear ring again, was heard without.
“What have we here?” cried Bernard.
Thus speaking, he rushed forwards to the chamber-casement, and
threw it open.
A concourse of citizens were assembled below; and at Temple-bar,
under the archway of the gate, were a troop of mounted heralds,
sounding trumpets. As Bernard appeared at the window, the music
ceased, and one of the heralds, holding a written paper in his
hand, spurred to the front, and, amidst a profound silence,
delivered the following
=_Proclamation._=
“Elizabeth, by the Grace of God, of England, France, and Ireland,
Queen, Defender of the Faith, to our loyal citizens of London,
and all others, our loving lieges, greeting:--
“Whereas it is not unknown to us, that our right trusty and
singular good subjects, throughout this our realm, look with
exceeding alarm for the event and issue of that armada, which,
as they are well advised, hath been directed against the peace
of God’s Church, and the honour and security of our crown, by
Philip, King of Spain, and others,--
“And whereas, it hath ever been our royal care, since we espoused
this crown and people, to deliver them, our aforesaid subjects,
from all concern and tribulation, and make them and their hearts
our happy and only husband,--
“Be it known unto all men, by these presents, that we have this
morning received an advertisement from our Admiral, my Lord
Howard of Effingham, setting forth that he hath, with great
slaughter of the enemy, entirely overcome, and utterly put to the
rout, the said Armada, for which we humbly give God our hearty
thanks.
“Given under our hand and seal, at our court of Westminster,
this 30th day of July, in the year of our Lord God 1588, and the
thirtieth year of our reign.
“ELIZABETH, R.”
As the herald ceased speaking, the roar of the Tower guns, firing
a _feu de joie_, burst on the ear; and the voices of the populace
rose in one heart-thrilling shout of
GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!
THE END.
London: HENRY RICHARDS, Brydges street, Covent-garden.
Transcriber’s Notes:
Period spelling and hyphenation were retained. Missing
punctuation added; extraneous punctuation (quotation marks)
removed. However, the following apparent printing errors were
detected and corrected (where possible).
“accurary” changed to “accuracy” on page 5. (with surprising
accuracy)
“no” changed to “not” on page 24. (and a not very encouraging
feature)
“crted” on page 58 is probably a printing error, but the original
word could not be determined (the chill of horror that crted over
his brain)
“thoughs” changed to “thoughts” on page 68. (struggle with her
thoughts unaided)
“familar” changed to “familiar” on page 79. (familiar to me as
Master Clifford’s)
“exhilirate” changed to “exhilarate” on page 177, to match other
occurrences of the word. (to exhilarate her father)
“molestatation” changed to “molestation” on page 251. (she
encountered no molestation)