There had been very few visitors to Danvers's New Church during the
morning. Something had kept every one away but the parson of the
parish, and an old lady of the village, who held a sort of middle
station between the gentry and the yeomanry of the country, and prided
herself upon knowing all the affairs of both. Trustworthy servants,
however, had been coming and going all the day; and they brought
intelligence which showed that a considerable circuit must be taken
round the town of Axminster, in order to avoid the two contending
parties in the western counties, then actually coming to hard blows
with each other.
About four o'clock Gaunt Stilling set off on horseback for Seaton, the
way to which he knew well, and his business at which place was
explained to him easily. He was to meet Lady Danvers and Ralph a
little to the eastward of Axminster, and let them know the result of
his inquiries at Seaton; but his instructions were totally independent
of the various scouts which had been sent forth, and the rumors which
Hortensia received from the latter were somewhat contradictory,
especially toward the close of the day.
Nevertheless, about an hour before sunset, the great lumbering
carriage was brought round to the door; the lady and Ralph entered it;
and, followed by several armed servants on horseback, they took their
way toward the upper gates, by a road not quite so much frequented as
either the lower road or the foot-path which crossed the park below
the house. It was a soft and not unpleasant evening, such as one often
finds in that climate, with a misty, hazy sort of air, through which
the sun struggled from time to time, shedding a rosy light over the
whole scene around.
Hortensia was somewhat silent, and evidently anxious--I do not mean to
say frightened, for she was unconscious of any personal danger--but
the perils of her companion seemed to weigh upon her; and when she did
converse, her whole conversation consisted of inquiries,
consultations, and advice as to the best means of passing on
undetected till an assured place of safety should be reached. Every
consideration seemed merged in that one. There was no longer the
light, lark-like flight of fancy which had often, in the leisure hours
preceding, carried away the mind of Ralph Woodhall into far etherial
fields of space; there was no longer the calm, thoughtful, yet not
unimaginative wandering of the spirit through more familiar scenes
filled with association, where, side by side, they had gone on over
the leas, and through the meadows of ordinary life, drawing as much
essence of dream from a cowslip, or a primrose, or a violet, as bolder
efforts of the fancy would extract from the high mountain or the
floating cloud. All was now hard, dry matter of necessity and
business. That was the only difference between the communion of the
preceding days and that of the present; but it was great.
The edge of the sky grew rosy; the sun set; the night came. The misty
clouds, from which had dropped, occasionally, large tears upon the
earth, passed away like gloomy thoughts from a bright mind; and star
by star came out in the refreshed sky, and looked down upon the earth
in melancholy calmness.
Alone, and side by side, Hortensia Danvers and Ralph Woodhall wended
slowly on. I must not pretend to look into her bosom; the eye of man
never did. There may be some women who can divine what mysterious
things were passing therein, but even of women, not all.
It were vain to say that at that moment--which to him seemed the real
parting moment--Ralph Woodhall did not feel many deep, many strong
emotions at the thought of being severed, perhaps forever, from one so
beautiful, so gentle, so generous, so kind. It is too rare to find
pure, disinterested friendship on the earth for one of a high heart to
meet with it untouched. He forgot himself--his fate--his peril--the
pressing urgency of petty circumstances--the momentary dangers that
beset his way--the trifling incidents that at every step might change
his destiny for good or ill. He thought only of Hortensia; and yet
with such thoughts that Margaret might have seen them all, joined
them, and shared them.
There was a deep silence for a considerable length of time. Had there
been any other soul within the carriage, not sharing in their
thoughts, to him it would have seemed very long. To them it was all
too brief for the crowded feelings they forced into it.
At length Ralph could refrain no more. He took Hortensia's hand in
his: he pressed it to his lips, and said, "Oh, dear Lady Danvers, how
can I ever thank you sufficiently--how can I ever explain to you all I
feel. Your kindness--your many acts of kindness, have come upon me
like a torrent, so rapidly that I have had no time to breathe or think
till this moment; and now, when I still feel the full force of all, we
are going to part for God knows how long!"
"Hush!" said Hortensia, in a low, agitated voice; "hush!" and for a
single instant she leaned her fair brow upon his shoulder; then
raising it calmly, she added, "Ralph, my dear brother, we must not
think of any thing which can withdraw our attention from the present
perilous hour. If you escape happily and well--as God in his great
mercy grant--tell your Margaret, with Hortensia's love, that she did
all in her power to save and aid you--nay, tell her," she added, in a
more cheerful tone--though there was a touch of fluttering effort
about it too--"nay, tell her that in after years, perhaps, when storms
have vanished and the skies are clear, Hortensia will come to visit
you both in your happiness and claim the gratitude she promised, and,
then rejoicing, will talk of days of sorrow and of peril passed away."
Silence fell upon them again. Was that a sob? It was very like one.
Whatever it was, it was drowned the moment after in the rattle of
musketry; there was a flash, too--distant, but near enough to show
suddenly the tower of a large Cathedral-looking church, long lines of
houses, and stacks of chimneys, and undulating hedgerows, and
wavy-outlined trees. The next moment--not in one volley, but in an
irregular running fire--shot after shot was heard, sometimes single,
sometimes two or three together, sometimes as if from whole platoons,
while quick reiterated flashes ran along all the hedgerows within
sight, and then the roar of a cannon or two was heard, with a shrill
sound of fifes and drums.
In an instant Ralph's hand was upon the door of the carriage, and
before Hortensia could beseech him to forbear, he had sprang out.
"Here, Jones, give me my horse!" he cried. "Turn round the carriage,
and away back with all speed! What! is the lane too narrow? On before
there seems a wider space. Stay! I will ride on and see. Coachman, you
must get your mistress out of this peril as speedily as possible. Come
after me slowly; some one put the cushions against the front windows;
you, men on horseback, gather round the carriage--take no part with
any one, but defend your lady."
Then dashing forward, he was for a moment lost in the darkness, till
his voice was heard shouting, "Here! here is room to turn;" and the
coachman hurried on his horses at the utmost speed to a place where a
wide, open space, with a gate leading into a field, seemed to give a
chance of wheeling round the lumbering vehicle.
At that moment, however, just as the four horses, somewhat restive
with the noise and confusion, were plunging and rearing, and a man on
foot was striving to turn the heads of the leaders round, the whole
evolution was interrupted by a number of men in military garb, but not
array, running as if for life up the lane, and dashing against the
horses and the carriage.
One of the fugitives exclaimed, evidently mistaking Ralph, who
had his sword drawn, for some one else, "All's lost, my lord, all's
lost--Monmouth has won the day, and the men are running like devils."
Thus saying, he flung his musket into the ditch and ran on, only to be
succeeded by another still more terrified, who had already denuded
himself of cap and weapons, and was struggling to get out of a
military jacket which seemed to cling to him like the coat of Nessus.
He cried, "Monmouth! Monmouth! The Protestant religion forever, and
d--n papacy, and prelacy, and the pope of Rome!"
"Here! draw up across the lane!" cried Ralph, addressing the horsemen
who accompanied the carriage; "keep a sufficient space clear for the
coach to turn; let another footman go to the head of the horses--get
them quickly round--soothe them, soothe them!"
At that moment a sharp volley came up the lane, and one of the balls
rattled against the carriage. Ralph spurred instantly toward the side,
but, ere he reached it, his horse staggered and sunk upon its
haunches.
"You are not hurt, Hortensia?" he said, springing from the saddle. "Oh
God! you are not hurt?"
"No, no," she cried, "but you're wounded, Ralph."
"Not in the least," he answered; "it is but the horse;" and, running
forward, he aided with better skill in turning the carriage round.
While thus employed, a party of horsemen of distinguished mien
galloped up the lane, and one of them, with a hat loaded with plumes,
paused for an instant to ask, "Whose carriage is this? In Heaven's
name, how came you here?"
"We were going to Axminster," replied Ralph, "but suppose it is in the
hands of the Duke of Monmouth. We can hardly get the carriage round."
"As difficult as I have found it to take Axminster with two regiments
of boobies and a handful of plowmen," replied the other. "I fear we
can not stay to help you. If you fall into the hands of Monmouth, give
him the Duke of Albemarle's compliments, and say I hope we shall meet
again some day soon."
"Come, come, my lord, this is no time for jesting," said another of
the horsemen; and the party rode on, leaving the ground clearer than
it had been before.
A few moments only were now required to turn the carriage completely;
but the lane was deep and muddy, and little progress was likely to be
made, while it seemed certain that pursued and pursuers would still be
urging their course along the very path which it was necessary to
follow in order to reach Danvers's New Church.
Ralph gave a look at his horse, but the poor beast was now stretched
out with his head flat in the clay, and it was necessary to drag him
out of the road before the carriage could pass. This consumed some
time, and several fugitives hurried by, exclaiming as they went, "They
are coming! They are coming! You had better make haste."
At length the carcass of the horse was removed, and, taking the
pistols from the holsters, Ralph approached the side of the carriage,
saying, "I know not whether I can best give you protection by mounting
another horse and riding by your side, or--"
"No, no, come in, come in," said Hortensia. "I need some one with
me--I am foolishly frightened."
Ralph instantly opened the door, but, turning to the men ere he
entered, he said, "Draw round as close as possible; each keep a cocked
pistol in his hand. Bid every one stand off, saying we are peaceful
travelers avoiding the affray. Be firm, but forbear any violence. Now,
coachman, drive on as fast as you can go."
Thus saying, he entered the carriage and seated himself by Hortensia's
side, while the coachman plied the whip with terrified vehemence, and
the horses dashed on quicker than probably they had ever been known to
go before. In the rumbling and rattling of the wheels, and their
grating through the stones and mud, the sounds from without--although
there was still firing, and shouting, and running going on all
around--were not very distinctly heard; but there were some clear,
sweet, musical tones fell distinctly enough upon Ralph's ear: "Oh,
Ralph, tell me--assure me that you are not hurt," said Hortensia. "I
am sure I saw you reel upon the horse as if a ball had struck you."
"It was the horse who staggered and fell," replied Ralph; "I can
assure you I am not hurt at all."
"Thank God!" said Hortensia, with a deep sigh; and Ralph went on to
add, "I feared you might be hurt, for I heard a bullet strike the
carriage."
"Did it?" said Hortensia; "I was not aware of it. It did not come near
me; and I was looking out, and thinking how wildly you men expose
yourselves unnecessarily, more than of any thing else."
"Not unnecessarily," replied Ralph, "depend upon it; it needs some one
to command under such circumstances."
"And that you did right well, most certainly," replied Lady Danvers,
assuming a tone of gayety not very congenial to her feelings; "I could
have fancied you a general, and think, indeed, you should have been a
soldier. But what are we to do now? What is to become of us?"
"We must go back to Danvers's New Church at once," replied Ralph. "We
have no other choice; and I must try my fortune alone early to-morrow
morning. It is strange we have heard nothing of Gaunt Stilling."
Hortensia did not reply, and after a moment Ralph added, "The firing
seems further off now, to the east of the town. I strongly suspect
Monmouth will not pursue his advantage--his troops are too raw. Is any
thing the matter? You do not speak."
"No, Ralph, no," she answered; "my heart is very full with many
mingled feelings; some joy--as, for instance, at our escape from
danger--some apprehension, some sorrow; but I trust that to-morrow
will bring better fortune, and that, ere night, I shall hear that you
are safe, Ralph."
She called him Ralph twice in the same short answer, and it was
pleasant to his ear; but she had remarked that from the moment when he
sprang from the carriage he had given her no name whatever, except
once that of Hortensia. He would not--he dared not, call her so again,
after the first excitement was over, and yet, with the warm sound upon
his lips, he could not bring them to utter a colder name. Their
thoughts were both upon the same subject at the same moment.
The sound of the firing had nearly ceased. The fugitives who were
still passing were few and scattered, and the moon was rising slowly
in the east, and silvering over the heaven behind a wooded hill, and a
tall, ancient-looking farmhouse upon a high, stony bank, when suddenly
a loud voice cried, "Halt! who goes there?"
The coachman instantly pulled in his reins, and Ralph, putting his
head out of the carriage, replied, "Friends! whose post is this?
Standoff, for the men are armed, and we want no more confusion."
"What friends?" demanded the sentry.
"Lady Danvers and her servants," replied Ralph, knowing the
announcement could do no one any harm but himself. "She is seeking to
return to her own house, as she finds she can not get to Axminster.
Who commands at this post, fellow, I ask again?"
"George Monk, duke of Albemarle," replied the militiaman, stoutly;
"and, I can tell you, you must stop till he says that you can go on,
for if you come a step further, I will shoot one of your great coach
horses."