When the Earl of Beverley had ridden on about five miles,
musing over no very pleasant anticipations, he thought he heard the
sound of a horse's feet coming at full speed, and turned round to
look. He himself was riding fast, but he now beheld a single horseman
spurring on still faster; and supposing that the personage who
appeared might be some messenger sent after him, with further
directions from the king, he drew in his rein and suffered him to ride
up.
"Ha, Captain Barecolt!" he exclaimed, as soon as the other came near.
"Is anything the matter? have you any message from his majesty!"
"None, my lord," replied Barecolt; "but having heard of your
expedition, with a hint that as I had accompanied you before I might
do so again, I lost no time in following; but I was obliged to stop a
while to change my dress and put on Captain Jersval."
"This is very rash," said the earl, after a moment's thought; "very
rash indeed, my good friend. You have been seen by so many in your own
character, that you have no chance of remaining undiscovered."
"Nor your lordship either," answered Barecolt.
"You do not understand the matter you speak of, sir," replied the
earl. "Even if I am discovered, it may effect my personal safety, but
not the king's service; whereas, it you are recognised as one of his
majesty's officers in my company, it may entirely frustrate the
objects of my journey. You forget, sir, that the remains of Captain
Batten's troops are in Hull, and----"
"The remains of Captain Batten's troops are at Boston, my lord,"
answered Barecolt. "So much have I learned in Beverley. Sir John
Hotham would not receive them, saying that he had no need of cavalry,
and that, threatened as he was with siege, they would but eat up his
provisions. I know my phiz is a remarkable phiz; but you forget that
the beauty thereof has been spoiled by this accursed cut over the
nose; and, besides, the very object of my going is to make a formal
complaint to Sir John Hotham of the conduct of Captain Batten in
attacking me and my friends--amongst whom I shall take care not to
specify your lordship--and against one Cornet Stumpborough for
stopping me. Do not fear, my lord, but that I will extricate myself;
and if you have any qualms about taking me with you, why, I can easily
go in at another gate, and be ready to help you at any moment."
"Well, we will see," answered Lord Beverley; "we will see. I will
think over it by the way;" and, entering into conversation with his
companion, he rode on. The various subjects discussed between the
noble earl and our renowned friend might not, perhaps, be very
interesting to the reader; for, although the dauntless captain at
various times approached the subject of those wonderful and surpassing
exploits which he had performed during preceding periods of his
history, and the recital of which could not fail to excite the
admiration and attention of any one possessing common powers of
imagination, yet his cruel companion harshly checked him in all such
digressions, and forced him to confine his narrative to the precise
sorts and kinds of information which he himself desired to obtain.
Thus we shall pass over all that took place till the two gentlemen
approached within about a mile and a half of the town of Hull, when
they perceived a small body of cavalry, apparently reconnoitring the
place.
"Let us spur on as fast as possible, my lord," said Captain Barecolt,
as soon as he perceived this little force.
But the earl, who had by this time determined that it might be as well
that the worthy captain should enter the town with him, though
apparently only as a chance companion of the way, and who moreover
judged at once that the body which they saw was merely a party of the
king's troops examining the fortifications of Hull, replied in a quiet
tone; "There is no need for any such speed, my good sir. Those are
friends."
"The more reason, my lord, why we should seem to think them enemies,"
replied Captain Barecolt, who never neglected any opportunity of a
_ruse_.
"You are right, you are right, captain," replied the earl, "and are
indeed a great master of stratagem."
Thus saying, he spurred his horse into a gallop, and at that pace
pursued his way towards the gates. The natural propensity which
every creature has to follow another who runs away from it caused
half-a-dozen of the Cavaliers to gallop after the two apparent
fugitives; but the earl and his companion had a start of some
distance, and when they arrived at the gates were about two hundred
yards before their pursuers. The whole of this proceeding was seen
from the walls, upon which a considerable number of the citizens were
assembled; and a few musket-shots were fired upon the party of
Cavaliers, as soon as the two gentlemen were under cover. The fire did
not injure any one, indeed; but it had the effect of inducing the
chasing party to halt and retreat very speedily, and the gates being
opened, the Earl of Beverley rode in, followed by Barecolt, with their
horses panting from the quick pace at which they had come.
All these circumstances were sufficient indications of hostility
towards the royalist party to satisfy the officers of the train-bands
at the gates; and with very slight inspection of their passes the earl
and his companion were suffered to ride on into the town; but,
separating from his noble companion at the corner of the first street,
Captain Barecolt rode away towards the "Swan," with instructions from
the earl to seek out Mr. O'Donnell, and to make arrangements with him
for a meeting on the following day.
In the mean while, the earl rode on towards the house of the governor,
and dismounting in the court, demanded with a foreign accent, as
before, to speak with Sir John Hotham. The personage to whom he
addressed himself was one of the serving-men of that day, known by the
general term of "blue-bottles;" but unfortunately, as it turned out,
he was attached to the person of Colonel Hotham, and carried the
earl's message to him immediately, without any communication with the
governor.
After Lord Beverley had been kept waiting about five minutes in a
hall, while several persons passed to and fro, and examined him more
curiously than was at all pleasant to him, the serving-man reappeared,
saying, "Be so good as to follow me, sir;" and led the young nobleman
through several long passages, to a small gloomy room on the
ground-floor, where he found Colonel Hotham standing by a table, his
brow heavy and his eyes bent upon the door. He inclined his head
slightly as the earl entered, and said, without asking him to be
seated, "Be so good, sir, as to explain your business to me. Sir John
Hotham, my father, is too ill to receive you, and I am entrusted with
his functions during his indisposition."
"Your pardon, sir," replied the earl calmly, though the meeting was by
no means satisfactory to him, and he remarked that the serving-man
remained at the door, while the tramp of feet was heard in the passage
beyond. "My business is with Sir John Hotham alone, and if he be ill I
must wait till he has recovered, for I can communicate with no one but
himself."
"You refuse then?" rejoined Colonel Hotham, with a heavy frown and a
sharp tone: "you refuse? If so, I shall know what to suppose.
"Really, sir, I know not what you may think fit to suppose," answered
Lord Beverley; "but very straightforwardly and simply I do refuse to
communicate business concerning Sir John Hotham to any one but
himself."
"Then, sir, it is clear you came hither as a spy," said Colonel
Hotham, "and you shall be dealt with as such."
The Earl of Beverley smiled, and producing the pass he had received
from the governor of Hull, put it in the hands of the parliamentary
officer, saying, "That mistake is easily corrected. Here is my pass in
due form, under your father's hand and seal."
Colonel Hotham gazed at it with an angry look; and at the same moment
the door by which the young nobleman had been introduced opened, and a
party of four or five of the train-bands entered, with a prisoner
between the two foremost. Lord Beverley turned round at the noise of
their feet, and, somewhat to his consternation, beheld in the captive
no other than good Diggory Falgate. Had it been Barecolt, he would
have counted upon his wit and discretion; but the poor painter had
displayed no traits, during the earl's short journey with him, which
could at all reassure him, so he expected every moment to hear him
claim his acquaintance. But Falgate showed better judgment than was
expected; and Colonel Hotham, after staring at the pass for a moment
or two, with a good deal of heat but some indecision in his
countenance, suddenly seemed to take his resolution, and tore the
paper in pieces, saying--
"This is all folly and nonsense! A pass under a feigned name is
invalid."
"Sir, you have committed an act of gross injustice!" exclaimed the
earl indignantly; "and some day, sooner than you think, you may have
to answer for it."
"Indeed!" cried the parliamentarian, with a sneer. "Well, sir, I shall
be ready to answer for my acts when needful. See that you be prepared
to answer for yours by to-morrow morning. Let loose that fellow!" he
continued, turning to the guard; "I can find nothing against him--he
is a citizen, it seems; and convey this worthy person to the strong
room. Put a sentry over him, and send Captain Marden to me. Take him
away, take him away!"
"And what are we to do with this 'un?" asked one of the soldiers.
"Let him loose, fool!" replied Colonel Hotham, waving his hand, and
the earl was removed in custody of the party, giving a significant
glance to Falgate as he passed. The painter returned it, but said
nothing; and Lord Beverley was led along to a small close room, with
one high grated window, where the heavy iron-plated door was closed
upon him, locked and barred.
The earl seated himself on the only stool, rested his elbow on the
table and his head upon his hand, while the struggle between strong
resolution and painful anticipations went on in his mind for nearly
half-an-hour. His was a heart not easily daunted--well fitted by high
principles and a calm and equal temper to endure the rougher and more
painful things of life, and to encounter the perils and disasters of a
troublous epoch better than lighter and gayer characters and less
thoughtful minds. Nevertheless, he could not but feel the bitter
disappointment which but too frequently follows on the indulgence of
bright and high hopes in this our earthly career. He almost blamed
himself for the joyful dreams which he had suffered to rest in his
imagination, while standing with sweet Annie Walton at the window of
the house in Beverley; and his thoughts ran back from those dear
moments into earlier days, recalling every bright spot in the past,
thinking of enjoyments gone and pleasures fled away, with a deep and
sad consciousness of the transitory nature of every earthly good.
Memory is the true "Old Mortality" of the heart, wandering sadly
through the scenes of the past, and refreshing the tombstones of joys
gone for ever.
As he thus sat, the light began to fade away and night to fall over
the earth; but ere it was quite dark he heard footsteps without, and a
voice speaking low to the guard at his door. The conversation ceased,
but there was no noise of receding steps, and the earl thought, "They
are watching how I bear it. They shall know nothing from that. I will
sing;" and, folding his arms upon his chest, he raised his eyes to the
faint spot of light that still appeared through the high window, and
sang, to a plaintive air of the time, some lines composed towards the
end of the preceding reign, perhaps by some victim to the coarse
tyranny of James I.
Life's brighter part has passed away;
The dark remains behind:
The autumn brown rests on the earth;
Loud howls the wintry wind.
But steadfast hope and faith sincere
Shall still afford their light:
While these remain, this mortal gloom
Cannot be wholly night.
The summer flowers that once were here
Have faded from the eye;
The merle has ceased to cheer the shade,
The lark to wake the sky.
Green leaves have fallen from the trees,
Dark clouds are overhead;
And withered things, beneath my feet,
Rustle where'er I tread.
But yet I know there is a land
Where all that's lost on earth
Revives to blossom and to bloom
With undecaying birth.
Thus steadfast hope and faith sincere
Shall still afford me light,
Till other suns shall dissipate
The gloom or mortal night.