The account given by Richard Newark to Emmeline and Smeaton, after the
latter had returned, comprised nothing that the reader does not know;
but he told his tale with great humour, and even some degree of wit,
which called a laugh from Smeaton, and made Emmeline smile, although
the former found matter in it for much consideration, and the latter
for much alarm.
It was now apparent that, the moment he resumed his real name and
station, Smeaton would be subject to annoyance and inconvenience, if
not worse, from the zeal of the Devonshire magistrates; and, after
some thought, he resolved to write to Lord Stair, explaining his
position, and begging him to assist in removing the difficulties with
which he was surrounded.
"I am determined," he said to himself, "to take no part in the foolish
struggles which seem likely to take place in this land, and which I
feel convinced can end in nothing but the destruction of those who
promote them. Undoubtedly, I look upon the Stuart race of Kings as
lawful sovereigns of the country, and did wish that the late Queen had
lived long enough to restore her brother quietly to the throne of his
ancestors. But nations have rights as well as monarchs, and it is
somewhat more than doubtful to me whether the great mass of the
reasoning people of this country are not strongly opposed to the
return of their ancient Kings. I will take no share in this business."
Richard Newark himself had some questions to ask, as well as the tale
to tell, and he put them, as usual, somewhat abruptly.
"Well, Colonel," he said, after some conversation, "now tell us all
about the priest's chamber."
"I am afraid I must not, my young friend," replied Smeaton. "That is
another man's secret, communicated to me for my own good, and I must
not betray it."
"Ah, you won't trust me," said Richard, in a sad tone. "I wonder why
it is people will not trust me. I can be as faithful and true as any
one."
"Indeed, I would trust you willingly," replied Smeaton, "with anything
that is merely my own; but this secret I ought not to divulge either
to you or to this dear lady."
"Well, then, I'll try you," said Richard. "Are you, or are you not,
the Earl of Eskdale?"
"I am," replied Smeaton, at once. "I tell you, without the slightest
hesitation, Richard; but I beg you not to divulge the fact till I have
taken measures to effect my safety."
"I was sure of it," cried Richard. "I was quite sure of it. Poor
colonels of horse don't have such beautiful swords to give away; and,
besides, I suppose, there is something in a lord makes him different
from other men. None of you have two heads, I think, nor four arms,
nor eight legs; but yet, lack-a-day, there must be some difference;
for I said to myself, soon after you came here, 'That man is different
from the rest of them.'"
Emmeline looked up in Smeaton's face with a smile, while her cousin
spoke, as if she would fain have said--
"I thought so too."
She spoke not, however, and Richard ran out of the room in his wild
way to see what all the servants were "making of it," as he termed it.
During his absence, which did not last many minutes, words of mutual
tenderness were of course uttered by the lovers; but other matters
were also to be spoken of besides their young affection, and Smeaton
communicated to Emmeline all that had transpired between himself and
old Mrs. Culpepper, expressing, at the same time, his belief that she
might be fully trusted.
The evening then passed quietly for more than an hour; at the end of
which time the trampling of horses and the voice of Sir John Newark
were heard. He did not come into the small saloon for several minutes
after he had entered the house; and, somewhat to Smeaton's surprise,
neither Emmeline nor Richard Newark went out to greet him. But they
knew him and his ways better than Smeaton did. The interval was
occupied in speaking a few words to Mrs. Culpepper, which seemed to be
rather those of inquiry than anything else; but the replies he
received were apparently satisfactory, and he entered the saloon with
a pleasant and half-laughing air. The whole circumstances of the
evening were discussed, he gave his own version of what had occurred,
both at Exeter and at Aleton, he inquired minutely into the events
which had taken place at the Manor House during his absence, and he
ended by saying--
"Well, Colonel, this is a fortunate escape from that which might have
proved to be a somewhat unpleasant affair, and the mistake these men
have fallen into regarding the flight of the Earl of Eskdale, who has
never fled from them at all, will put you quite at your ease, for some
time, and save you, I trust, from farther annoyance."
He glanced his eye towards Emmeline and Richard, as he spoke, as if to
indicate that it might be better to enter into no more particulars in
their presence, and Smeaton very readily took the hint; for, to say
truth, he had more confidence in Richard's kindness that in his
discretion.
When the two younger members of the family had retired for the night,
Smeaton remained, for a few minutes, to give Sir John an opportunity
of explaining himself further, but Sir John Newark did not think it
necessary to say much more upon the events of that day, merely
observing, in a careless and somewhat light tone--
"I hear your lady wife has quite recovered, and I suppose she may soon
be expected to join you."
"You are labouring under a mistake, my dear sir," replied Smeaton, at
once. "I am quite wifeless."
"Why, I thought," exclaimed Sir John Newark, "that your wife was
mentioned between us only the other day." And he assumed, very
tolerably, an air of incredulous surprise.
"I beg your pardon, Sir John," returned Smeaton. "You asked after Lady
Eskdale, and I replied that she was better; but the name of wife was
never mentioned between us. I spoke, indeed, fully with regard to my
mother's illness; but, she being the only Countess of Eskdale living,
I might naturally assume that your words referred to her. I am a
single man, I beg to assure you."
"Well, my lord, a happy condition," remarked Sir John. "Heaven forbid
that I should attribute bigamy to you, or saddle you even with a
single wife, when you have not got one. I would advise you, however,
as you have no wife, to get rid of Keanton; for troublous times are
coming, I can see very clearly; and, although you have contrived to
keep possession of the estate so long, I fear very much you would not
be able to hold it longer, if there should be anything like a
disturbance in the country."
"I trust that will not be the case," said Smeaton, "although I should
not, of course, object to the sale of the place if it could be
effected at a fair price. Yet there are memories which cling about our
old ancestral homes, from the influence of which we cannot well divest
our hearts. I know nothing of this Keanton, though I was born there. I
recollect not one stick or stone about it--have very rarely heard it
spoken of, except for the purpose of giving me information which might
be useful to me in any unexpected change of circumstances.
Nevertheless, Sir John, so strongly is man's weak heart bound by the
fine chain of association, that to put my hand to the deed which
conveyed it to others would cost me a pang, severer, perhaps, than any
other, except that of seeing it wrested from myself and my mother
without that compensation which might secure comfort and happiness to
her old age."
"I fear that the latter may be the case ere long," replied Sir John,
shaking his head gravely. "From all I have heard this day, and all I
have seen, I judge that many months will not pass before we witness
convulsions which will be beneficial to the winning party, but utterly
ruinous to the great body of the English gentry. For my part, I intend
immediately to settle my whole estates absolutely on my son, in such a
manner that he could not be deprived of them unless he were to take a
part which his youth renders impossible. They shall, in short, be no
longer mine, but his; so doubtful am I of the future. As to Keanton,"
he continued, with an easy and unconcerned air, "I have no doubt that
many of the neighbouring gentry would be found ready to pay a
reasonable price for it. I myself should be most willing to come
forward and offer you such a sum, but for the views I have expressed.
I have always a certain amount of money in reserve; but that might be
needful to me in case of any reverses; and it is not sufficient to pay
a just price for such an estate as Keanton. Nevertheless, if at any
time you or your lady-mother should wish by way of mortgage to raise a
sum for any present purposes, command me, and you will find me
delighted to testify my friendship for you by something better than
mere words."
Smeaton made some courteous reply of no great value; and Sir John
continued--"speak of course merely in case you do not sell; but, as I
have before observed, there are many wealthy country gentlemen around
us here, who would be right glad to purchase, I am sure; amongst the
rest, Sir James Mount, an excellent old man, and generally considered
a person of great ability. Of his genius I have my doubts; but of his
high honour and good intentions none. He was talking to me, this very
morning, both of yourself and Keanton. As soon as it came out that the
suspicions of the magistrates were directed towards you, and that they
supposed you were dwelling in my house, he asked me privately if such
were really the case. Of course I did not betray your secret even to
him. He then went on to speak of Keanton, and it seemed to me that it
was a possession he had always coveted."
"He knew my father and my mother in early years," replied Smeaton. "I
have often heard him mentioned. Indeed, I have seen him, I think, but
am not very sure."
"He is most anxious to see you," returned Sir John; "and indeed, if you
think fit to sell the place, I believe he would be found a ready
purchaser. I was sorry to disappoint the good old man, for he
expressed so eager a desire to greet his old friend's son, that I
could have found it in my heart to bring him to my house to-night, had
it not been that I look upon another man's secrets entrusted to me
just as I should upon his purse if left in my care, a thing which I am
bound to return to him untouched."
Now Sir John Newark was well aware that good Sir James Mount had not
in reality a stiver at command, and that his passion for alteration
and building had already compelled him to mortgage his estate. As
Smeaton knew nothing of these circumstances, however, the suggestion
would have excited no suspicion had it not been accompanied by
profession of pure motives and honourable dealing, which he knew did
not form the distinguishing characteristics of Sir John Newark's life.
"I will think of this, Sir John," he said; "and, as to Sir James
Mount's knowledge that I am your guest, I really do not see, so much
as you seem to do, the great necessity for secresy. I have explained
to you that I have, substantially, nothing to fear, except, perhaps, a
little inconvenience from zealous stupidity; but I think, in a few
days, I shall have removed all danger even of that, for it is my
intention to-morrow to write to Lord Stair, begging him to exert his
influence in the proper course for enabling me to reside as long as I
think fit in this country, upon the clear understanding that my
residence here shall in no degree prove detrimental to the dynasty
which he serves. At all events, Sir John, pray do not let my sojourn
with you induce you for one moment to exclude any guests whom you
might otherwise wish to receive; for I cannot at all consent that your
hospitality towards me should so embarrass you, and only regret it has
already produced so much disorder in your household. And now, with
many thanks, good night."
Sir John shook him warmly by the hand; and they parted--Smeaton
retiring to his chamber, to think, if the truth must be told, more of
Emmeline than of aught else; and Sir John to consider his plans
farther, under the aspect which they had now assumed.
Smeaton's carelessness as to discovery was not altogether pleasant to
the knight, who would willingly have seen his young guest more
embarrassed, and he liked not at all the prospect of difficulties
being removed from the course of the latter.
"I must deal with this epistle to Lord Stair," he said to himself. "It
will never do to let Eskdale clear his feet of the birdlime
altogether. But then again, in the meantime, I can work something,
perhaps, out of the indiscretion of that foolish old man, Sir James
Mount. It will be easy, as my guest does not absolutely object to see
him, to get them into such relations that some of the follies of Sir
James may recoil upon the young Earl. If the old knight snaps at the
bait of Keanton, I can advance the money on mortgage of the two
estates. If he do not, he may help to bring about embarrassments which
may make my young bird eager to get rid of what can but be a clog upon
him. And yet this bachelorism of his is an unfortunate affair. If
Emmeline were out of the way, it would all go well. That, however,
cannot be; but I must make myself sure at home."
And, going to the hall-door, he called one of the servants, and bade
the man send the housekeeper to him.