It was wonderful to see how soon, with a little order and a right
good-will, all the rooms were cleared of the rich and delicate
ornaments which filled them. The girl Alice, well trained by her
mistress, did good service in this way, and at length all was
completed. Four servants, besides Gaunt Stilling, were selected to
accompany the carriage, and, after a few minutes' quiet conversation
with Ralph, Hortensia retired to seek some repose. Her last words
were, as they parted, "This is a strange life, Ralph."
How often it is that such little truisms give the clew to long, deep,
intricate, undisplayed trains of thought, which have been going on in
silence and secrecy for a long time before the common place result, in
which most meditations end, is expressed.
Lady Danvers's words led the mind of Ralph on a journey fully as long
and various as her own had previously been traveling, and, after
giving a few directions to his servant, he cast himself into a chair,
and passed the night in sleepless silence, till the faint gray of the
early morning began to tinge the eastern sky. From time to time he had
heard steps in the house throughout the night, and before the hour
appointed Hortensia was down and ready to proceed.
There are various characteristics which give the men who possess them
great power and influence over their fellows. Promptitude and
decision, even though they approach rashness; firmness and
determination, even when they touch upon obstinacy; great knowledge of
the world and wide experience, are pre-eminent among these; and, by a
combination of all three, Gaunt Stilling had obtained an ascendency
among the servants of Lady Danvers which rendered him at once the
leader and commander, as it were, of the little party which surrounded
the carriage as it wended on. Two men he threw forward in advance, at
the distance of some five hundred yards from each other, to gain
intelligence and report to him in case of need. He himself rode a
little before the carriage, and the other two men placed themselves
one at each door, or portière, as it was the custom then to call it,
one leading Ralph's horse by the bridle. The morning was peculiarly
fine--bright, glowing, and beautiful--the colors of the sunrise
unusually vivid; but the feathery clouds over head soon began to mass
together. The sun lost his splendor, became dull and heavy-eyed, and
then disappeared behind a shroud of vapor. First came on a thick,
drizzling rain; then a heavy, continuous pour, pitting the dry ground,
and then forming miniature torrents by the road side.
The carriage was much more heavily laden than on the preceding
journey, and slowly and laboriously it went on, wallowing through the
thick mud, and often seeming to pause, as if to rest itself, in the
gutters which channeled the way. Progress was very tardy; hour after
hour went by, and still every scene was familiar to the eyes of
Hortensia. She knew this house, and that farm, and the church upon the
hill, and the little village inn with its jolly host, and she could
almost tell the exact distance from spot to spot. The slowness of
their progress alarmed her; and after going on for four hours, and
indulging in a fit of deep thought, she turned suddenly to Ralph,
saying, "Indeed, I think you had better mount your horse, and ride
away with your man. I shall reach Wells in safety, without doubt; but
I fear every moment we may meet with Colonel Kirke, or some other of
the king's officers, and the consequences might be dangerous to you.
Have you not remarked that one of the men has ridden back several
times to speak with your servant? We are now approaching the turning
toward St. Mary's, and really we had better part here."
It cost her a great effort to utter those words, but it cost Ralph
none to reply.
"I will leave you on no account," he said, "till I see you safely in
your cousin's house at Wells; I should ill repay your kindness were I
to act so selfish a part. A lady traveling in such scenes of confusion
needs all the protection she can have; the danger to myself I do not
think great. If we are rightly informed, Kirke's men will be marching
on a different road; and as to the men moving rapidly backward and
forward, it is but to keep up the communication from front to rear. We
move slowly, indeed," he added; "but I never expected to accomplish
the journey in less than three days, and with these roads it will
probably take four."
"Four!" exclaimed Hortensia; "why, I have ridden the distance in one.
Heaven knows what may happen in four days."
The words were still upon her lips when Gaunt Stilling rode up to the
carriage and looked in, saying, as if in an inquiring tone, "I think
we had better turn a little way up the lane to St. Mary's, sir, for I
find from the reports that there is a good large party of the king's
troops at a village about a mile before us. They halted there last
night, but where they are going this morning the people do not seem to
know. The carriage can get up the lane for about half a mile, and the
two first sharp turnings will hide it from this road. There is a field
near there where we can wheel about when we have obtained intelligence
that the troops have marched on."
Ralph and Hortensia agreed to the proposal, and directions were given
to the coachman accordingly. But Gaunt Stilling had reckoned without
his host. Not fifty yards after the carriage had turned into the lane,
a deep, unmended hollow, almost deserving the name of a pit, presented
itself in the road. The horses dashed over--one stumbling and nearly
falling--the heavy and overladen vehicle plunged in, with a shock
first to the fore, then to the hind wheels; the injured axle-tree, not
well mended, gave way, and the carriage stuck fast and immovable.
It was evident, in an instant, that the accident was beyond repair, at
least for a long time; and while Ralph and Hortensia stood by the side
of the vehicle, in no slight embarrassment and dismay, a distant beat
of drums was heard, and one of the horsemen, who had been sent on the
high road to bring his fellow from the front, came up at a quick pace,
saying, "They tell me these are Kirke's lambs, my lady."
"You had better avoid that flock, madam," said Gaunt Stilling; "we can
all be seen from the road; and I would not have them find you here for
a good deal."
"But what is to be done?" exclaimed Ralph, impatiently; "they are
already marching, it would seem; the carriage can not be repaired for
hours, and Lady Danvers can not go on on foot."
"No, but she can on horseback," answered Gaunt Stilling.
"But there is no lady's saddle," replied Ralph; "her dress is not
fitted for riding."
"Oh, that has all been taken care of," answered Gaunt Stilling, with a
grin, "if Mistress Alice followed my counsel, and the coachman
Harrison did what I told him. I knew quite well we should have some
accident before we had done, and that my lady would likely have to
mount on horseback and ride for it. As to the drum, that's only the
muster-drum, and they won't march for this half hour; and, if people
have not forgotten, there's a pad for my lady's riding on the
carriage, and an amazon skirt, as they call it, under the cushion."
"The velvet pad is up behind," growled the coachman, who had been
gazing disconsolately at his broken vehicle.
"I put the skirt in," cried the maid; "I always do what I'm told."
"But what am I to do with you, my poor Alice, if I ride away?" said
Lady Danvers.
"Oh, never mind me, my lady," replied the maid, "I'm not a bit afraid
of them. If they say a word to me, I'll scratch their eyes out. Or I
can walk along down the lane till I get to some cottage, and hide
myself there till they have plundered the coach and gone by."
"Why, I should think you had known them of old, Mistress Alice, you
hit them off so pat," said Gaunt Stilling; "but you won't find a
cottage for a long way, I can tell you. However, if you and the men
get into that little wood, and hide yourselves there, it is a thousand
to one that they don't seek for you. The picking of the carriage will
take them some time, and Kirke won't let them stop long."
"I sha'n't get into the woods," said the sturdy coachman; "I'll stand
by the carriage."
"And I'll stick by the horses," said one of the men; "the girl can
hide herself in the wood, if she likes--I won't."
"Then, my brave lads, I'll stay with you," answered Gaunt Stilling. "I
know these men, and perhaps can do more with them than any of you. I
know Master Kirke, too, and he knows me. However, do not let us waste
time in talking;" and, turning to Ralph, he added, "You and the lady,
and one of the men, had better ride on, sir, as fast as may be; I will
follow you as soon as I can, and reach you where you stop for the
night. Perhaps we can get the carriage repaired so as to go on
to-morrow. Harrison, get the pad on the lightest going of the horses.
Alice, set your little fingers going about your lady's dress."
"Marry, you're familiar!" said the maid, searching under the cushions
of the carriage; and, at the same time, Ralph replied, "But I do not
know the way, Stilling."
"I do--I do!" exclaimed Hortensia; "only tell me, is it the second or
third turning you take to the right?"
"The fourth, my lady," replied Gaunt Stilling; "don't take the third,
or it may lead you into the lion's jaws; the fourth turning, and then
ride straight on. You go in one line for sixteen miles till you come
to a cross-road with a good inn. There, my lady, I think you'll need
rest; and there, God willing, I'll bring you news. Now, pretty
Mistress Alice, have you got the skirt?"
"Yes, here it is; but what my lady is to do without her hat and
feather, I can't tell."
Hortensia smiled, but made no answer; and her extemporaneous toilet
was soon completed.
The pad by this time had been placed upon one of the servant's horses,
and Ralph lifted his beautiful companion into the saddle, not without
some haste and anxiety, for the sound of fifes and drams playing a
march was distinctly heard, and it was clear that Colonel Kirke and
the Tangier regiment were moving down the road. As soon as she was
safely seated, he sprang upon his own horse's back, and Hortensia,
shaking her rein lightly, with a look in which sadness checkered
strangely one of her gay smiles of olden days, put the beast into a
canter, saying, "Now, Ralph, for a gallop, such as I used to enjoy so
much when I was a girl."
CHATTER XXXI.
The roads were bad, and heavy with rain which had fallen during the
night, but still Ralph and Hortensia kept up the quick pace at which
they had set out for some six or seven miles. They spoke little, but
the rapid motion seemed to animate and cheer them both; and at length
Hortensia drew in her rein, her color revived by the air and exercise,
and a brighter look of hope in her beautiful eye.
"I think we must have distanced them, Ralph," said Hortensia, "and we
can ride on more quietly now."
"I trust there is no danger at present," answered Ralph; "and though,
dear lady, you seem as if you were boon companion of the huntress
goddess, it may be better to spare the horses."
"One of Diana's maidens I suppose I was destined to be," replied
Hortensia; and then, as if to take away the point from her words,
she added, "I was ever very fond of hunting, I remember, when a
child--except, indeed, the catching of the beast, which I could never
bear. The shrill scream of a poor hare when caught by the dogs,
banished me at length from the hunting-field forever."
She fell into thought again for a moment, and then lifting up her eyes
to her companion's face, she said, "We are very foolish, Ralph, I
think--you--I--every body."
"Indeed!" said Ralph, smiling; "why think you so?"
"Because," replied Hortensia, "not content with all the great and ugly
evils with which Fate has crammed this mortal abode of ours, we set up
looking-glasses all round them in our minds to multiply them by
reflection. Is not this foolish, Ralph?"
"Methinks it is," answered her companion; "but I believe the reason of
it is that we wish to see them on every side, to see if we can not
diminish them or cast them out."
"Vain effort!" replied Hortensia. "Our path is straight on; we can not
turn aside from it. The ills that lie upon it must be encountered in
front, and there is no use in watching for them till they are within
reach. Let us be wise, Ralph, if it be but for this day. Let us enjoy
the present as far as we can. You think no more of a dark past or a
gloomy future, and I will cast from my mind many a heavy thought and
anxious care which the world's eye shall never behold. See! the sun is
breaking out from behind the clouds, mottling the livery of the sky
with gold. Let us fancy that in a calm, peaceful land, in a softened
summer day, with nothing but prosperity round us, a happy home before
us in which to rest, a short but bright vista of pleasant, youthful
hours behind us, and light and loveliness on every side--let us fancy,
I say, that we are taking a morning's ride for mere enjoyment. Can you
do your part?"
"I will try," replied Ralph; "and, indeed, dear lady, as you say, it
is the wisest plan. I have turned all the events of these last few
days in my mind during this whole morning, and during the greater part
of last night too; but thought has come to no result; and, as you see,
the best-devised plans are frustrated in the moment of execution. I
really feel inclined to be a fatalist, and to think that Destiny is
leading me on blindfold, struggle how I may."
"Perhaps so," replied Hortensia; "but you are already breaking our
compact, and moralizing upon things that be. Let us get into
dreamland, Ralph; it is the mind's best refuge. You never were in
France, or Italy, or Greece, I think; never saw the seven sober,
united provinces, nor dwelt among the stiff and boorish aristocracy of
Germany?"
"Never," replied Ralph, "never;" but yet the very name of these places
turned his thoughts, as Hortensia intended, into another channel; and
the two continued, not without an effort, indeed, to discuss subjects
the least possibly connected with their own fate or the circumstances
of the moment. Often--very often would thought recur to painful
themes; the distant barking of a dog--the wild, joyous galloping of a
horse in a neighboring field, would startle and alarm with the thought
of fresh danger; but then, each time this occurred, the effort to
banish the night-mare of the moment would be less difficult, till at
length they nearly succeeded in forgetting all that they wished to
forget.
Thus the time passed more pleasantly, and the road seemed shorter and
less wearisome than it might have done had they yielded greater
attention to pains and anxieties. That which Hortensia counseled and
was practicing, has been, through the history of the world, one of the
great secrets of philosophy and fortitude. The stoic bore his shame,
the martyr his anguish, by thinking of something else; and great would
be the blessing to man if he could attain to such mastery over his own
mind as to give no more thought to any painful circumstance than is
absolutely necessary to safety.
Ralph's heart was well guarded, indeed, or it could not have gone
through that journey with Hortensia in safety; not so much from the
beauty of her person, or the charm of her conversation, or the
sweetness of her voice, or the high-hearted mind which seemed to pour
a sort of halo of light around her, as from the deep thoughts of
her--her character--her fate--which that long, dreamy ride suggested.
He was thinking of her continually, even while conversing with her on
indifferent things--thinking of her, not in a manner that could have
pained Margaret if she had seen all his thoughts, but thinking of her
far more than Margaret would perhaps have liked. The words which gave
his mind that direction were those which Hortensia herself had used in
speaking of herself, when she promised, for the enjoyment of the
moment, to cast away from her mind "many a heavy thought and deep
anxiety which the world could never see;" and on this text he went on,
discoursing with himself, as I have said, even while he was striving
to keep up a gay, wandering conversation with her.
The way seemed short, and neither Ralph nor Hortensia could believe
that they had gone sixteen miles from the turning of the road when
they saw, at length, a large, good-looking inn standing at a corner
where two ways crossed. That which they were traveling themselves was
a mere lane. The other, which traversed it, was evidently a high road,
and Ralph said, "I hope we are right. We surely can not have come so
many miles already?"
Hortensia looked up at him with a gay smile, and pointing to his
horse, replied, "The poor uncommunicative beasts know better, Ralph;
see you, your horse hangs his head, and both think they will be much
the better of corn and water. Hark you, Peter," she continued, turning
to the servant who had followed them, "ride up to yon inn door, and
ask how far this is from St. Mary's. That will give us some indication
of the distance we have come. But mind, mention not my name or Mr.
Woodhall's on any account. It might be very dangerous to me, Peter,
and I think you love your mistress well enough not to risk her safety
by any indiscretion."
"I won't say a word, my lady," replied the good man, pulling off his
hat as he rode forward.
In two or three minutes more, Ralph and Hortensia were seated quietly
in a comfortable small room of an old-fashioned inn, with an
old-fashioned landlord waiting upon them. He was full of attention,
and often took his snowy night-cap in his hand, uncovering his bald
head to guests whom he saw were worthy of reverence.
"Dinner shall be placed before you, my lord and my lady, in a moment,"
he said. "You have just come at the nick of time, for we had a great
banquet ordered for Master Jenkins and his friends. He was to be
married the day after to-morrow to pretty Mistress Betty Parker of the
Grange; but those soldiers who came down to join Oglethorpe's regiment
last night carried him off with them for disaffection--foul fall them!
His only fault, if it was a fault, was too much affection--for
Mistress Betty Parker. He would have given her up his whole soul and
substance; and as to his being a Nonconformist, he was as good a
Churchman as any in these parts, was baptized by old Doctor Hicks, and
confirmed by the Bishop of Wells. But I'll show you your bed-room, my
lord and my lady. It is all quite snug and comfortable, in here, out
of this parlor," and he threw open a door leading into a very nice
room beyond.
"You make a mistake, my good friend," said Ralph, while Hortensia's
face glowed with painful crimson. "I am not this lady's husband, but
merely protecting her on her journey in these dangerous times."
"Well, sir, I hope you soon may be," said the pertinacious host.
"You couldn't have a better, nor she either, for that matter, I'm
sure--Good gracious! the lady's crying--Dear me, madam, I'm very
sorry--I beg pardon a thousand times--I'm a foolish old man and must
chatter."
"Never mind, never mind, my good man," replied Hortensia, drying her
eyes. "It is I who am foolish; but I have been subject to much fatigue
and anxiety to-day. We had very nearly fallen in with a band of these
lawless soldiers who are about, and I was obliged to leave my carriage
on the road, broken down, and ride on under this kind friend's
protection."
"Oh, well, if that is all, he can have the bed-room just opposite,
where he can come to you in a moment if you want him," said the host,
and again Hortensia's face glowed like a rose.
"If I stay the night, I may need that for my maid," she replied; "the
girl will come on as soon as possible. I dare say you can find him a
room somewhere else."
"I have none so good," said the landlord. "Twenty-five is rather damp,
and number seven--"
"Never mind, never mind," said Ralph, "any one will do for me. These
must be for the Lady Hortensia and her maid--Now go and hurry dinner
as fast as possible."
The old man turned toward the door, but stopped suddenly, and looked
round with a bright expression, as if a good thought struck him,
"Won't it be better," he said, "to have a bed put into my lady's room
for the maid?"
"Exactly--exactly," said Ralph; "that will do very well."
"Capital--capital," cried the old landlord, snapping his fingers with
an air of triumph; "that hits it exactly; then you can have the
opposite room, and comfort them both if they should need it."
Ralph could bear no more, and burst into a fit of laughter, in which,
to say sooth, Hortensia joined, although she was not very sure whether
she should laugh or weep again.
The old man looked in some surprise, and left the room with a somewhat
sheepish air.
As soon as he was gone, Hortensia raised her eyes to Ralph's face with
an expression of much anxiety, rendered almost whimsical by the faint
glow of merriment that still lingered like sunset round their lips.
"This will not do, Ralph," she said, in a timid tone; "I hope my
people will come and join us soon; but I must not--I fear I must not
travel with you alone, though God knows, and you know, that our
feelings toward each other would not shrink from the scrutiny of all
the world."
Ralph took her hand and pressed his lips upon it. "You have been
pained too much on, my account already," he said; "but I must and will
see you safe to your journey's end, Hortensia. If your maid does not
join you at once, I doubt not we can engage some honest girl here to
fill her place for the time, and accompany you on the way to-morrow.
No one who knows you could doubt you for an instant."
"But what may not Margaret think?" asked Lady Danvers, turning very
pale.
"Margaret's thoughts are all generous," replied Ralph; "and if she
knew you as I do, she would almost worship you for your kindness to
me."
"Without a doubt or a suspicion?" asked Hortensia, sadly.
"Without a shadow or a cloud to dim her confidence," replied Ralph,
boldly. "Others might insinuate what Margaret would not believe; but I
feel it now, dear Lady Danvers, to be a duty to you, to her, and to
myself, as soon as I can find an opportunity, to write to my dear
cousin, and tell her all the generous, noble, disinterested kindness
you have shown to me. It is risking a good deal, perhaps, but I think
I can find the means of conveying the letter to her secretly."
"Perhaps I may find courage to write to her also," replied Hortensia,
thoughtfully. "A woman, in a woman's letter, soon reads a woman's
heart; and mine I don't wish to conceal--from her eyes, at least. She
will understand me."
Ralph pressed her hand kindly in his own. His brow was clear and calm;
his eye expressed, perhaps, esteem, regard, affection, but not
passion, and he answered, "She _will_ understand you as I understand
you; she will be grateful to you as I am grateful to you; and she will
neither doubt, nor fear, nor hesitate, but comprehend you, most
excellent and amiable of human beings, as you will ever be
comprehended and loved by one who esteems you more than any other
being upon earth but her with whom his whole fate and existence has
been linked from early childhood."
Heaven knows what it was in his words, but Hortensia bowed her head
till it touched her hands upon the table, and burst into so vehement a
fit of sobbing, that Ralph, after in vain endeavoring to soothe her or
even to attract her attention to himself, called loudly from the door
for help, and soon brought the landlord's wife and daughter to the
assistance of his fair companion.
The peculiar situation in which they were placed prevented him from
carrying her himself to her bed-room; but he had soon after the
happiness of hearing that she was calmer and better; and for an hour
or two he waited tranquilly, in the pleasant and quiet abode which
they had found, for some news of all they had left behind them on the
road.
Hortensia had just rejoined him--had just made one of those excuses
which women often make for any agitation they betray when emotion
overpowers habitual self-command, saying that she had overcalculated
her strength, and that the fatigue which she had lately undergone had
affected her more than she had expected.
"The truth is, I suppose, Ralph," she said, "I have been acting the
fine court lady too much of late, and in cities and crowds have lost
somewhat of the dairy-maid health I used to boast of in days of yore.
I must abandon such enfeebling scenes, and once more ride my fifteen
or twenty miles in the day, as I used to do; for I am resolved not to
be a languishing dame till my hair begins to turn gray, and not even
then if I can help it."
They were gazing forth from the window, which, looking over a low
copse on the opposite side of the road, gave a beautiful view of that
rich and beautiful country, which extends for many miles along the
borders of Somerset and Devonshire--a land which probably my eyes will
never see again, but which will be present to my mind to the last hour
of life. The garden of England well may they call it; and when they
say that, surely they mean the garden of the world. The sun was
shining fitfully; the clouds, broken, were drifting away on a swift
wind; the trees and fields were sparkling with the past rain, and the
soft exhalation of the warm earth marked out the aerial perspective of
every far-receding slope more tenderly than usual. From the refreshed
earth the air rose up loaded with perfume, and the note of the
blackbird poured rich and musical from the covert, as if to keep
scent, and sight, and sound in harmony. They had not gazed for above
two minutes, however, and Hortensia had hardly had time to ask her own
heart how and why it was that Nature's own world was so bright, and
beautiful, and peaceful, while man's was so full of ruggedness and
thorns, when the sight of Gaunt Stilling trotting up quickly to the
door, and quite alone, called the attention both of herself and her
companion.
The man asked some questions quickly of an hostler who was standing by
the horse-trough, gave him some large saddle-bags to carry into the
house, and then dismounting, entered the inn. A moment after, he was
in the presence of his master and Lady Danvers, and Ralph argued at
once, from the expression of his face, that matters had gone wrong
with him. Nevertheless, his words did not convey any evil tidings.
"Lucky you didn't stop, my lady," he said, addressing Hortensia, "for
we were very likely to have a fight for it, and two shots were fired,
which did no damage to any thing but the carriage. However, we have
saved it from actual plunder, though I believe Kirke's lambs have
filched two or three things of no very great importance."
"But where is the carriage?" asked Ralph; "and where is Lady Danvers's
maid?"
"It will be impossible to get the carriage repaired at all till
to-morrow," replied Gaunt Stilling, "and it may be night then before
it is ready but we contrived at last to get it drawn up into the yard
of a good farmer, who will take care of it, and the men and all, and
Mistress Alice to boot, till they can set off to Wells. As to the
young woman, my lady," he said, with a laugh, "you should have her
taught to ride; for we could find no possible way of getting her on
here, or I would have brought her with me. We contrived a capital sort
of pad saddle for her, and mounted her tolerably well; but no sooner
was she on upon one side than she was off upon the other. So the
matter was in vain; for I knew my horse would have enough to do to
bring one here alone, otherwise I would have brought her on a pillion
behind me. I have brought a heap of things for your ladyship, however,
which the girl crammed into a big pair of bags I bought from the
farmer."
"Have you heard any news of the other forces that are marching?" asked
Ralph; "it is absolutely necessary that we should get some accurate
intelligence."
"Hard to be found, sir," replied Gaunt Stilling; "I don't think much
that there are more than three men among the king's troops who know
which way they are marching, or what they are doing, and Feversham is
not one of them. If Monmouth had but one good regiment of foot and a
handful of horse, he would beat them all in detail; he must win a
battle or he's lost, however, for they're pressing him back upon the
sea just by their dead weight."
"But can he win a battle with such ill-disciplined and ill-armed
forces as he has?" inquired Ralph.
"I don't rightly know, sir," replied Stilling. "His men are
bad enough, in all conscience; but the king's are not much
better--Feversham, an idle, effeminate fop--vain, too, as a peacock;
the men a set of drunken marauders, only fit to scour a conquered
country, and the officers, for the most part a set of dissolute,
enfeebled libertines, who know as much of tactics or campaigning as
that table. Your cousin, Lord Coldenham, is one of them, sir. I think
it would not take a very strong man to knock down a whole regiment of
such, like a child's house of cards. But there is Churchill," he
added, "and Oglethorpe, and Dumbarton's regiment, and the Blues.
Monmouth will fall down there if they come across him. His only chance
would be to beat Feversham first, and then push on to London. A battle
won and a forward march would make many cold friends warm ones."
"But have you been able to obtain no intelligence, then, which may
guide us?" asked his master; "I care not for myself, Stilling, if I
could see Lady Danvers safely at Wells."
"Ay, that is the thing, sir," answered Stilling; "for the whole
country is in a state of commotion, and it is almost equally dangerous
to move or to sit still. The whole roads to the south and east are in
a state you can form no idea of. Every sort of outrage is being
committed. Nothing is safe, nobody is respected. The landlords are
ruined by having men quartered upon them. The villages are plundered.
The farmer's horses are all taken to draw the baggage-wagons and
artillery, and you would suppose not only that martial law was
proclaimed, but that the whole land was given up to pillage. It is as
bad as Tangier; and it was only because Kirke knew me, and I knew
Kirke, that her ladyship's carriage was spared. When I told him that
if he did not keep up some discipline about the carriage at least,
some secrets might come out he might not like to have public, I could
see him fingering his pistol, as if he did not well know whether to
shoot me or bid his men march on; but I had a pistol too, and my hand
upon it, and I think that settled the question with him. However, all
I can say is, we must go on very carefully to-morrow, for nobody seems
to know which way Monmouth has turned. I dare say we shall hear,
however, as we proceed, and as to the rest, we must trust to the
chapter of accidents. Now, with your good leave, sir, I will go and
get something to eat, for I have neither had bit nor sup since last
night, and my horse is nearly as badly off as his master."
Gaunt Stilling withdrew, and Ralph and Hortensia were left alone to
consult over the somewhat cheerless prospects before them. To stay
where they were for that night seemed inevitable; and, following
Ralph's suggestion, Lady Danvers sent for the good woman of the house,
to inquire if some young woman could not be procured in the
neighborhood to act in the capacity of her maid for a few days. The
landlady willingly agreed that her own daughter should sleep in
Hortensia's room, and attend upon her that night, but no consideration
would induce her to allow the girl to quit her home on the following
day.
Inquiries were then made in the village, which lay about a quarter of
a mile down the road; but all proved vain. The terror which the
various bodies of troops had occasioned rendered every parent anxious
to keep his child at home; and Hortensia was obliged to make up her
mind to undergo any evil construction that the world might put upon
her conduct, as she was placed in a position from which, however
unpleasant, there was no escape.
It would be tedious to trace the adventures of the next two or three
days, for they only consisted of embarrassments and disappointments
very similar to those which have been already noticed. Whichever way
Ralph and Hortensia directed their steps, intelligence reached them
that some body of troops lay between them and the place they sought to
reach; and, turned at every point, several days were lost in fruitless
wanderings, which only brought them nearer to the Bristol Channel, and
further both from Wells and Hortensia's own dwelling.
Sometimes a feeling of despair would come over Ralph, and he more than
once thought of seeking out the quarters of his cousin Lord Coldenham,
of whose presence with the royal forces he was now assured, and
trusting to his honor to find means of conveying Lady Danvers safely
on her way. But when he proposed such a plan to her, she rejected it
at once in a manner which admitted of no further argument.