ABBOT'S LEIGH.
ABBOT'S LEIGH.
Jane's arrival having been announced by a bell rung at the gate by the porter, Mr. Norton, who was playing at bowls with his chaplain, Doctor Gorges, on the smooth lawn in front of the mansion, hastened to meet her, and, after greeting her very cordially, assisted her to alight.
The lord of Abbots Leigh was a tall, distinguished-looking personage, attired in black velvet. His wife, who presently made her appearance, was somewhat younger, and extremely handsome.
A most affectionate meeting took place between Jane and Mrs. Norton, who embraced her young relative very tenderly, and expressed great delight at seeing her.
"I rejoice that you have got here safely," she said. "We hear of so many disagreeable occurrences, that I can assure you we have felt quite uneasy about you. Your looks don't betray fatigue, but I dare say you are greatly tired by your long journey."
"No, indeed, I am not," replied Jane. "I think I could ride thirty or forty miles a day for a month, and not feel the worse for it. But I have been troubled about my poor groom, Will Jones, who is very weak from the effects of a quartan ague."
"Give yourself no further concern about him, Jane," said Mrs. Norton. Then calling to the butler, who was standing near, she added, "Pope, this young man, Will Jones, is suffering from ague. Bid Margaret Rider prepare for him an infusion of aromatic herbs."
"A hot posset cannot fail to do him good," said Jane. "But, above all, he must avoid a damp bed."
"There are no damp beds, I trust, at Abbots Leigh," replied Mrs. Norton. "But Pope shall see that he is well lodged."
Pope, a tall, strongly-built man, who looked more like a soldier than a butler, promised attention to his mistress's orders, and stepping towards Charles, said a few words to him in a low tone, after which the king, bowing gratefully to Mrs. Norton, took his horse to the stable.
Jane had next to answer Mr. Norton's inquiries relative to her brother and Sir Clement Fisher.
"They must be full of anxiety for the king," he remarked. "All sorts of reports reach us, and we know not what to believe. Can you give us the assurance that his majesty is safe?"
"I wish I could," replied Jane. "But he is so environed by his enemies that he cannot escape."
"Not immediately perhaps," said Mrs. Norton. "But an opportunity must occur. No one will be base enough to betray him."
"Betray him! I should think not," cried Mr. Norton. "If chance brought him here, I would place my house at his disposal."
"I am delighted to hear you give utterance to such sentiments," said Jane.
"Did you doubt my loyalty?" he rejoined.
"No," she returned. "But I am glad to find that the king has so true a friend."
They then entered the house.
HOW CHARLES FOUND A FAITHFUL ADHERENT AT ABBOTS LEIGH.
Janewas in her room—a large old-fashioned bedchamber, with a transom-window looking upon the lawn, and commanding a splendid view of the Severn's mouth and the distant Welsh hills—when a tap was heard at the door, and a maid-servant came in.
"You have something to say to me, I perceive, Margaret?" observed Jane.
"Yes, madam," was the reply. "My mistress has ordered me to attend upon your groom, Will Jones, and to be very careful of him. So I prepared a nice carduus posset, knowing it to be good for the ague, but when I took it to him, he wouldn't drink it, but said he should prefer some mulled sack."
"Well, Margaret, you had better indulge him in his whim. Let him have some mulled sack, since he fancies the brewage."
"But that's not all," pursued Margaret Rider. "Mulled sack won't content him. He declares he is very hungry, and must have a good supper."
"Poor young man!" exclaimed Jane, in a commiserating tone. "He has had a long day's journey. Let him have some supper."
"It strikes me, madam, that he is not so ill as he pretends to be. I don't see why he shouldn't sup in the servants' hall."
"Indulge him, Margaret—pray indulge him. He is worse than he looks. Ague is very obstinate."
"In my opinion, madam, the young man himself is very obstinate. Nothing seems good enough for him. I am sure he is very well lodged, yet he is not satisfied with his room."
"Well, let him have a better room, Margaret."
"I think you show him too much indulgence, madam. But I will attend to your orders."
And Margaret departed.
On going down-stairs, Jane repaired to the butler's pantry, where she found Pope, and was about to give him some further directions, when he said to her, in a very grave tone:
"I do not know, madam, whether you are aware that I had the honour of serving Mr. Thomas Jermyn, when he was groom of the bedchamber to the Prince of Wales at Richmond. His royal highness was a boy at the time, but I recollect him perfectly."
He paused and looked at Jane, but as she made no remark, he went on.
"Subsequently, I served in the late king's army under Colonel Bagot, and constantly saw the prince at that time, so that his features are graven upon my memory."
"Why do you mention this to me, Pope?" inquired Jane, uneasily, for she suspected what was coming.
"Can you not guess, madam?" he rejoined. "Well, then, since I must needs speak plainly—in your groom, Will Jones, I recognise the king."
"You are mistaken, Pope," she cried.
"No, madam," he rejoined, gravely, "I am too well acquainted with the king's face to be mistaken. But you need not be alarmed. His majesty may rely on my silence."
Just as the words were uttered, the object of their conversation came in. A look from Jane told the king that the secret had been discovered.
"Soh, Pope has found me out!" he exclaimed. "I thought he would. But I can trust him, for I know him to be an honest fellow, who would scorn to betray his sovereign."
"I have sworn allegiance to you, sire," replied Pope, "and I will never break my oath."
And as he spoke he knelt down and kissed the hand which Charles graciously extended to him.
"Do not let your zeal lead you into any indiscretion, Pope," said the king. "Show me no marks of respect when any one is present, except Mistress Jane Lane, but continue to treat me as Will Jones."
"I will carefully attend to your majesty's injunctions," said Pope.
Feeling now quite sure that the king would be well attended to, Jane left the room.
But the loyal butler had his own duties to fulfil, and could not neglect them without exciting suspicion. Praying the king, therefore, to excuse him, he proceeded to serve supper, and while he was thus occupied, Margaret Rider, by his directions, brought a jug of metheglin for the king.
For more than an hour Charles was left alone in the butler's pantry, but at the end of that time Pope reappeared.
"I am now entirely at your majesty's service," he said.
"Sit down, and take a cup of metheglin," said Charles. "I want to have a chat with you."
After some hesitation the butler complied.
"To prove that I place entire confidence in you, Pope," observed the king, "I will tell you what I desire to do, and possibly you can aid me. My object is to obtain a passage for France. Do you think I shall be able to find a vessel at Bristol to take me to Bordeaux?"
"Very few vessels sail from Bristol to France, my liege. You had better hire a schooner for Cardiff or Swansea."
"But I have no money," said Charles.
"Mistress Jane Lane can procure any sum your majesty may require from Mr. Norton," replied Pope. "But of course she will be obliged to enter into explanations with him."
"I should not feel uneasy on that score, because I know your master can be trusted," observed the king.
"That is quite certain," rejoined Pope. "But with your majesty's leave, the first thing to be done is to ascertain that a vessel can be hired. There are plenty of ship-masters, plenty of ships, and plenty of seamen to be found at Bristol, but one doesn't know whom to trust. Or rather, I should say, one can't trust any of the skippers, since most of them are Roundheads. But if you desire it I will go with your majesty to Bristol to-morrow night. At the Dolphin, a tavern near the quay, frequented by seafaring men, we may be able to pick up some information."
"But will it be safe for me to go to a tavern like the Dolphin?"
"If I thought there was the slightest risk I would not offer to take your majesty there," replied Pope. "I am well known to David Price, the keeper of the tavern, and he will not question any one I may take to his house. Possibly we may obtain from him all the information we require. If I succeed in obtaining your majesty a passage to Bordeaux—or even to Swansea—I shall esteem myself the happiest of men."
Shortly afterwards Pope conducted the king to the pretty little chamber prepared for him. Needless to say that his majesty slept soundly.
CARELESS BRINGS THE KING GOOD NEWS.
Nextmorning Charles was alone in the butler's pantry, when Mr. Norton, accompanied by Doctor Gorges, who had been the late king's chaplain, and now filled the same office at Abbots Leigh, came into the room to inquire after him. The appearance of the latter, with whom he was well acquainted, rather confused Charles, as he feared that the chaplain must recognise him. However, the divine suspected no deception, and Charles acted his part so well that he completely imposed upon the worthy man. The interview did not last many minutes, and was interrupted by Jane Lane, who came to the king's assistance.
"I hope I have not overacted my part," observed the king to Jane, as soon as Mr. Norton and the chaplain were gone. "But it occurred to me that my recovery was too rapid, and that I ought to have a relapse."
"You acted the part so naturally, my liege, that you would certainly have imposed upon me, had I not been a confederate. It will be sure to be spread about among the household that you have had another attack, and as the servants may have thought your conduct strange in keeping aloof from them, their suspicions will now be removed."
"I shall go forth presently," said the king. "I think it likely that Careless may venture here in the course of the day."
He then informed Jane of his intention to visit Bristol at night with Pope, for the purpose of hiring a vessel to convey him to France.
"If I succeed in my object I shall not return here," he said; "and in that case I shall not require your further services. You will then be at full liberty to inform Mr. Norton who has been his guest."
"I must be quite sure your majesty is safe before I make any such communication to him," she replied.
"If Pope returns alone, you will know that I am gone," said Charles.
"Heaven grant that your majesty may find means of escape!" said Jane. "But I own I am not very sanguine, and I implore you not to run any heedless risk. I think there is great hazard in visiting Bristol."
She then quitted the room, and Charles, who found his confinement rather irksome, went to the stables, where he remained for some time. He did not return to the house, but passingthrough a retired part of the garden gained the long avenue leading to the mansion.
While wending his way slowly beneath the overarching trees, he perceived a horseman at a distance riding towards the house. As the person drew nearer, he felt almost certain it must be Careless—but if so, Careless had abandoned his disguise as a groom, and attired himself in a costume more befitting his condition. Careless it proved to be, and no sooner did he discern his royal master, than he quickened his pace and rode up.
"Well met, my liege," he exclaimed, springing from his steed and saluting the king. "I have come in quest of your majesty."
"I hope you bring me good news," replied Charles. "I see you have thrown off your disguise."
"I found it necessary to do so," said Careless. "Habited as a groom I should never have been able to make any arrangements for your majesty. Luckily, at the Lamb, where I put up, I met with Tom Hornyold of Worcester, who not only supplied me with a good sum of money, but with a change of attire. Thus provided, I lost not a moment in endeavouring to carry out your majesty's plans. By Tom Hornyold's advice, I repaired to the Dolphin, a tavern frequented by ship-masters and seafaring men in the neighbourhood of the quay——"
"And kept by David Price," interposed the king.
"Your majesty knows the tavern?" exclaimed Careless, in surprise.
"I have heard of it," replied Charles. "But proceed. Did you see the tavern-keeper?"
"I did, my liege, and found him exactly the man described by Tom Hornyold. I had a long conference with him in private, and told him I wanted to hire a vessel to convey me to France, and if that could not be managed, to Swansea. I said that I meant to take with me a young dame, to whom I was about to be wedded—but whose parents objected to the match——"
"Dame Gives, I suppose?" observed the king.
"Exactly, my liege. I had previously obtained her consent to the scheme. But your majesty has not heard me out. I thought it necessary to acquaint David Price that I should be accompanied by a friend—a fugitive Royalist who had fought at Worcester—but I took care not to lead him to suspect that my friend was a person of rank."
"Well, what followed?"
"He listened to all I said, and after some reflection, replied that he knew the master of a small lugger, who he thought might be induced by a good round sum to convey me, my intended bride, and my friend to Swansea. 'I think the man is in the housenow,' he added. 'If you desire it, I will call him in here, and you can speak to him yourself?' I said this was exactly what I wished, so he went out, and shortly afterwards returned with a sturdy, broad-shouldered man, whom he introduced as Captain Rooker. The skipper had an honest look that prepossessed me in his favour. In order to give a friendly character to the interview, David Price placed a flask of Nantz on the table, and filled a glass for each of us. My object having been explained to Captain Rooker, he entered upon the matter at once. He said it was a hazardous job, and might get him into trouble, but as he sympathised strongly with the Royalist party he would undertake to assist me, provided he was well paid. After some talk he agreed to take me and my companions to Swansea for fifty pounds—but he required twenty pounds down, which by David Price's advice I paid him. I hope your majesty will think I have done well in making the arrangement."
"You have done admirably," cried Charles, joyfully. "But when will Captain Rooker sail?"
"To-night," replied Careless. "To-morrow, I hope your majesty will be at Swansea. Once there, you cannot fail to secure a passage to France."
"Yes, I shall feel perfectly safe at Swansea. But where am I to embark?"
"I am unable to inform your majesty at this moment. All I know is, that Captain Rooker means to send his lugger down the Avon to-day, and the vessel will wait for us at some point where we can safely go on board. Come to Bristol to-night, and then I shall be able to give you exact information."
"You have forestalled my plans," said Charles. "I had arranged with Pope, the butler at Abbots Leigh, who turns out to be a trusty fellow, to go to Bristol to-night, and we meant to visit the Dolphin."
"Then let that tavern be our place of rendezvous," rejoined Careless. "We will meet there at nine o'clock to-night. And now, unless your majesty has some further commands for me, I will take my departure."
"I have nothing more to say," said the king. "At nine o'clock expect me at the Dolphin."
Thereupon, Careless mounted his steed, and bowing profoundly to the king, rode down the avenue.
When he had disappeared, Charles turned and walked slowly towards the house. On arriving there, he repaired at once to the butler's pantry, where he found Pope, and acquainted him with the arrangements made by Careless. The butler approved of the plan, and thought it could be safely carried out.
Later on in the day the king had an opportunity of conferringwith Jane Lane, who did not seek to disguise her uneasiness, when she was informed of the scheme.
"I pray that your majesty may not be drawn into some snare," she said. "I have great fears that the captain of the lugger may prove treacherous."
"Why should you distrust him?" cried Charles. "Careless has perfect faith in his honesty."
"I can give no reason for my suspicions," she replied, "and I hope they may prove groundless. Zeal for your majesty makes me anxious. Pray allow me to consult with Mr. Norton."
"No," replied the king, in a decided tone. "'Tis needless to do so."
"Your majesty, I am sure, has not a more devoted follower than Major Careless. But he may be deceived."
"Tut! these are idle fears!" exclaimed Charles. "I never knew you so timorous before. Ordinarily, you are full of courage."
"I cannot conquer my apprehensions, sire. I have a presentiment of ill, and I beseech you to listen to me."
"I can scarcely think that it is the high-spirited Jane Lane who speaks to me thus," said the king.
"Think of me as you please, my liege, but follow my counsel," she rejoined. "Again, I entreat you to let me consult with Mr. Norton."
"No—no—no," cried Charles. "Not till I am gone will I allow you to tell him who has been his guest."
Nothing more passed between them.
The prospect of immediate escape, now held out to the king, threw him into such a state of excitement, that he felt it almost impossible to continue to play the sick man, and in order to avoid observation, he withdrew to his chamber, and remained there till evening, all his time being occupied in watching the sails on the broad estuary of the Severn.
THE TAVERN-KEEPER AND THE SKIPPER.
Inthe good old times supper was generally served at an hour which would not now be deemed particularly late for dinner, and after he had finished his attendance at the evening meal, Pope, who had obtained leave from his master to go to Bristol, set out with the king.
Charles had no opportunity of bidding Jane farewell, but she sent him a message by the butler, expressing her heartfelt wishes for his success. Though it was nearly dark at the time that he and Pope started on their expedition, and the gloom was greatly increased by the thickness of the woods into which they had plunged, the butler was well acquainted with the road, so that they were in no danger of taking a wrong course.
However, it was a relief when they emerged from the thicket, and gained the open ground, known as Stokeleigh Camp. As they reached the verge of the steep upland, the valley, deeply ploughed by the Avon, lay before them, while the lights of the city were distinguishable in the distance. Descending from this eminence, they pursued their course along the bank of the river, and met with no interruption.
"The tide is flowing," observed Pope. "Two hours hence the channel will be full. The moon will have risen by that time, and then there will be light enough for your majesty's business."
"It is quite light enough now, methinks," said Charles.
"It is pitch dark at this moment in the gorge of the Avon," rejoined Pope.
Presently, they drew near St. Mary Redcliffe's pile, the outline of which noble fabric could only be discerned through the gloom.
They then entered a narrow street skirted on either side by old timber houses, and leading towards one of the city gates, which took its name from the church they had just passed. Pope readily satisfied the guard at Redcliffe-gate, and entering the city they proceeded towards the bridge.
At that hour there were few people in the streets, which were almost dark owing to the overhanging stories of the old houses. Just after they had crossed the bridge and entered High-street, they encountered the city watch, which had begun to make its rounds, and were challenged by the captain, but allowed to pass on.
Shortly after this encounter, Pope turned into a narrow street on the left, and descending it, they had nearly reached the quay, when Pope stopped, and pointed to a tavern on the right, above the open door of which hung a lamp that cast a feeble glimmer on the footway.
"That is the Dolphin, my liege," he said.
Charles looked at the house for a few moments, as if debating within himself what he should do, and then said:
"Go in first. I will follow."
Pope obeyed, and went into the tavern, Charles keeping close behind him. On crossing the threshold they found themselves in a large, low-roofed, old fashioned room, in which a number of seafaring men were seated at small tables drinking and smoking.The room was so dimly lighted, besides being filled with tobacco-smoke, that the whole of the guests could not be clearly distinguished, but amongst them were three or four individuals, whose puritanical garb and tall steeple-crowned hats showed that they were sectaries.
Besides these there were a couple of troopers.
On making this discovery, Charles felt inclined to beat a hasty retreat, and would have done so, if the tavern-keeper, David Price, who had been watching them, had not come forward, and beckoning them to follow him, ushered them into a small inner room, where they found Careless and a stout-built personage, whose appearance answered to the description Charles had received of Captain Rooker.
Tall glasses and a big bowl of sack and sugar, or "Bristol Milk" as it was termed, were set on the table, and light was afforded by a lamp. Careless saluted the new-comers on their entrance, and begged them to be seated, but nothing passed till David Price had quitted the room.
"This is Captain Rooker," said Careless. "He has engaged to give us a passage to Swansea."
"Ay, it's all right," cried the captain, in rough but cheery accents. "My lugger has already gone down the river, and we shall follow her as soon as the tide suits, and that will be in about two hours. The current will then be running down quickly. If so be you don't like to embark on the quay, I can take you up somewhere lower down—say at the Gorge of the Avon."
"That's a long way off," observed Charles. "What's your reason for wishing us to embark at that place, captain?"
"Because it's the safest spot I know of," returned Rooker. "You need have no fear of anyone lying in wait for you there."
"No, we'll make sure of that," observed the king, glancing significantly at Careless.
"Hark ye, captain," said the latter, "you and I must not part company till we reach Swansea."
"Why, you don't doubt me?" cried the skipper, gruffly.
"No, I don't doubt you, but I won't let you out of my sight. We will arrange it in this way. You and I will start from the quay, and we will take up the others as proposed."
"Well, I'm agreeable," said the skipper. "But I understood that a young lady was going with you. Is she to be left behind?"
"No," replied Careless. "My friend will bring her with him. You will find her near the high cross on St. Augustine's Green," he added to Charles. "I would go there myself, but——"
"You don't want to leave me," supplied the skipper, with a laugh.
"Ay, that's just it," said Careless. "It won't make muchdifference to you," he continued, again addressing the king. "You need not come back. You can embark on the right bank of the river."
"Just as easily as on the left," remarked Captain Rooker, "if you can only get down the cliffs without breaking your neck."
"I will guide him," said Pope. "I know the path down the rocks."
"Well, the place will suit me," said Charles. "So you may look out for us at the entrance of the gorge, captain." Then, bending towards Careless, he added, in a low tone, "Don't lose sight of this man."
"Depend on me," replied Careless, in the same tone.
No one but Captain Rooker was aware that all that had passed had been overheard by David Price, who, on going forth, had left the door slightly ajar. The cunning rascal had now heard quite enough, and, fearful of being detected, crept cautiously away.
He was only just in time, for almost immediately afterwards Charles and Pope quitted the room. David Price attended them to the door, and after watching them for a moment or two, as they proceeded towards the quay, he beckoned to the troopers, whom we have mentioned as being among the guests. They were expecting the summons, and instantly joined him.
Meanwhile, the king and Pope had crossed the quay, and calling for a boat, were taken to the other side of the Frome.
As soon as the boat returned from this job, the two troopers, each of whom was armed with a carabine, and had a brace of pistols in his belt, jumped into it, and ordered the waterman to take them across.
The man prepared to obey, but by some accident got foul of another boat, causing a slight delay, which exasperated the troopers. They rated him soundly, but their anger did not mend matters, for he moved with the greatest deliberation.
ST. AUGUSTINE'S GREEN.
Whollyunconscious that they were followed, the king and his attendant mounted the eminence on which stood St. Augustine's Church. By this time the moon had risen, and its beams silvered the tower and roof of the majestic edifice. Beforeentering St. Augustine's Green—now known as College Green—a large quadrangular piece of ground bordered by trees, spread out in front of the cathedral, Charles cast a glance at the city, which, viewed from this elevation, with its walls, ancient habitations, and church towers, illumined by the moon's radiance, presented a striking picture. While gazing in this direction he noticed two troopers at the foot of the hill, who had evidently just crossed over from the quay, but they did not excite his apprehension.
The moon being at the back of the collegiate church, the broad black shadow of the venerable pile was thrown upon the green, reaching almost as far as the high cross which stood in the centre of the enclosure. As Charles walked towards the cross he saw a female figure hurry away, and enter the alley of trees that bordered the green on the west. He instantly followed, and found Dame Gives.
"Why did you fly from me?" he asked.
"I was not certain that it was your majesty," she rejoined. "The person with you is a stranger to me."
"He is a faithful adherent whom I have found at Abbots Leigh," replied Charles. "I could not bring Major Careless with me, for he is otherwise occupied, but you will see him anon."
And he then proceeded to explain that Careless had been left to look after the master of the lugger.
"Heaven grant that all may go well!" she exclaimed. "How rejoiced I shall be when your majesty is safe at Swansea!"
"You will be still more pleased when we are all safe in France," said Charles.
"I do not think I shall ever arrive there, sire," she rejoined, sadly. "I am not usually down-hearted, as you know. But I am so low-spirited to-night that I think you will be better without me."
"No, no," cried Charles. "Go you must. Major Careless will be miserable if you are left behind."
"Nay, I don't desire to make him miserable," she rejoined, forcing a laugh. "Whatever may happen I will go. But I will tell your majesty why I feel so uneasy. While I was standing under the shadow of the church a dark figure approached me, and at first I thought it was Major Careless, whom I expected. A strange terror seized me. The figure slowly and noiselessly advanced, and as it drew near the blood froze in my veins, and my heart ceased to beat, for I saw that it was Urso. Yes, it was Urso, come from the grave to torment me! His face was the face of a corpse, but his eyes gleamed with preternatural brightness. I tried to fly, but I continued chained to the spot. The phantom approached—and oh, horror! it stood close beside me, and these words, uttered in a sepulchral tone,reached my ear: 'I have come to summon you.' For a moment my senses seemed to desert me. When I recovered, the phantom was gone."
"'Twas the delusion of an over-excited imagination," observed Charles, who nevertheless was powerfully impressed by the relation.
"No, sire," she replied, shuddering. "I could not be deceived. I saw Urso too plainly. Nothing could equal the horror with which he inspired me. Death would be dreadful indeed if I must rejoin him."
There was a pause, during which Charles made no remark, for, in spite of himself, he felt a sense of terror creeping over him.
At length Dame Gives broke the silence:
"As soon as I regained the use of my limbs," she said, "I went to yonder chapel," pointing to a small sacred structure on the eastern side of the green, "and finding the door open I went in, and kneeling down, prayed fervently. Since then I have felt greatly relieved, and prepared for whatever may ensue."
"'Tis a mere trick of fancy," cried Charles. "But, despite the fancied summons, you must go with me. If we remain here longer, I shall think I see Urso's ghost myself."
He then called to Pope, who was standing near at hand, and bade him lead the way to the downs. Marching in advance, the butler took them to the further end of the green, and then commenced another steep ascent. Dame Gives still felt rather faint, and required the aid of the king's arm in mounting the hill. Not one of the party was aware that they were cautiously followed by the two troopers.
THE GORGE OF THE AVON.
Theyhad now gained an eminence, at that time nothing more than a bare down, but now covered with streets, squares, and terraces, and forming the charming suburb of Clifton. From this lofty point the whole of the city could be descried, bathed in moonlight, and presenting a very striking picture.
After a few minutes' rest, Dame Gives seemed to have recovered from the fatigue of the steep ascent, and walked on briskly over the elastic turf. Though they were on a very lofty elevation, they had not as yet reached the crown of the hill, which was then surmounted by a watch-tower, but they walkedto this point, and avoiding the watch-tower, entered a wide open space, partly surrounded by earthworks, which had once formed a Roman camp.
A most remarkable scene now lay before them, the picturesque effect of which was heightened by the moonlight. From the giddy height they had attained they looked down upon the Avon, flowing in its deep channel between two walls of rocks, evidently riven asunder, ages ago, by some convulsion of nature. This marvellous chasm, than which nothing can be grander, is known as the Gorge of the Avon. Bushes and small trees springing from the interstices of the lofty and shelving rocks added materially to its beauty. In appearance the uplands on either side of the gorge were totally different. The heights on which the king and his companions stood were wild, and only covered with patches of gorse, while those on the opposite side were crowned with the thickets in the midst of which Abbots Leigh was situated. Divided for long centuries, as we have said, these towering cliffs have been once more united by a light and beautiful bridge suspended over the abyss at such a height that the tallest ship can pass beneath it.
From the lofty point on which Charles stood the course of the Avon from Bristol to the rocky gorge could be distinctly traced in the moonlight, except in places where the river was obscured by a slight haze that gathered over it. The upper part of the cliffs was illumined by the moon, but her beams could not penetrate their mysterious and gloomy depths. Lower down, where the chasm widened, and the cliffs were further apart, the river could be seen rushing on to join the Severn. A strange and fascinating picture, which the king contemplated with great interest.
Meanwhile, the troopers had gained the summit of the hill, and concealed themselves behind the watch-tower.
"There is the boat!" exclaimed Pope, pointing to a dark object distinguishable in the river about three hundred yards from the entrance of the gorge.
Charles listened intently, and, in the deep stillness that prevailed, felt sure he heard the plash of oars.
"'Tis the boat, no doubt," he cried.
"Shall we go down to meet it?" inquired Pope.
Charles signified his assent.
"Your majesty will please to be careful," continued Pope. "The descent is somewhat perilous."
"You hear what he says, fair mistress," remarked Charles to Dame Gives.
Struck by her extreme paleness, he added:
"Let me help you to descend."
But she thankfully declined the gracious offer.
Pope then led them along the edge of the precipitous cliffs, tillhe arrived at a spot where the bank was not quite so steep, and was fringed with bushes.
"Here is the path, my liege," he exclaimed. "Follow me, and proceed cautiously, I beseech you. A false step might prove fatal."
He then plunged amid the bushes, and was followed by Charles. Close behind the king came Dame Gives.
Their movements had been watched by the troopers, who carefully marked the spot where they commenced the descent, and in another minute were cautiously following them.
The path taken by Pope brought those whom he conducted among the rocks lower down, and here Charles gave a helping hand to Dame Gives, and saved her from the consequences of more than one unlucky slip; but nothing worse occurred, and they all reached the bottom of the cliff in safety.
They were now at the entrance of the gorge, and the river, confined by the rocks, was sweeping rapidly past them through its narrow deep channel.
Charles was gazing at the darkling current and at the towering cliffs, that filled him with a sense of awe, when Pope called out that the boat was at hand.
Next moment it came up, and Captain Rooker, who had been rowing, leaped ashore and made it fast to the stump of a tree. Careless did not land, but helped Dame Gives into the boat, and Charles was about to follow, when shouts were heard, and the two troopers rushed towards them.
Jumping into the boat, Charles ordered Rooker to set her free. But the skipper paid no attention to the command.
"Thou art taken in the toils, Charles Stuart," he cried. "As an instrument in accomplishing thy capture, I shall receive my reward."
"Be this the reward of thy treachery, villain," cried Careless.
And drawing a pistol from his belt, he shot him through the head.
As the traitor fell to the ground, Pope unloosed the rope, and set the boat free, jumping into it, as he pushed it from the bank. At the same moment, Charles seized the oars, and propelling the boat into the middle of the stream it was swept down by the rapid current.
Unluckily, it had to pass near the troopers, and they shouted to the king, who was now plying the oars, to stop; but as he disregarded the order, they both discharged their carabines at him, and he must have been killed, if Dame Gives had not suddenly risen, and placing herself before him, received the shots. The devoted young woman fell back mortally wounded into the arms of Careless, who was seated near her.
"Are you much hurt?" he cried, in accents of despair.
"Hurt to death," she rejoined, faintly. "I have not many moments left of life. I knew this would be, and am prepared for it. Farewell for ever!"
Uttering these words, she breathed her last sigh, and her head declined upon Careless's shoulder.
"She has died for me!" exclaimed Charles. "'Tis a sad and sudden ending, but she anticipated her doom."
"Anticipated it, sire! How mean you?" cried Careless.
"I will explain hereafter, if we escape," said Charles.
Several more shots were fired by the troopers, but no one was hurt. The current swept the boat down so rapidly that those within it were soon out of reach of harm.
"What will you do?" said Charles to Careless.
"I know not," rejoined the other, distractedly. "But I will never rest till I have avenged her. But think not of me, my liege. Save yourself. If you go further down the river, you will most assuredly fall into some new danger."
"If I might venture to advise your majesty," said Pope, "I would recommend you to land as soon as possible, and return at once to Abbots Leigh."
"Thy advice is good," rejoined Charles. "But what is to be done with the unfortunate victim of this treacherous design? How is she to be disposed of?"
"Leave her to me, sire," replied Careless. "Again, I implore you to save yourself. Return to Abbots Leigh, as Pope suggests. If she could speak," he added, solemnly, looking at the lifeless figure, which he still held in his arms, "she would urge you to take this course!"
"If you will consent to keep Pope with you, to assist you in your mournful task, I will go—not otherwise," said Charles.
"Be it so, my liege," replied Careless.
During this colloquy, the boat was carried rapidly through the gorge, and had now reached the point where the chasm grew wider and the cliffs were further apart.
Looking out for a favourable point to land, Charles drew near the left bank of the river, and Pope, jumping ashore, quickly fastened the boat to a tree.
Charles followed, but for some time could not make up his mind to depart.
At last, however, he yielded to the entreaties of Careless, who besought him earnestly to go, urging that his stay would only endanger himself, and ascending the cliffs, he made his way alone through the woods to Abbots Leigh.
End of Book the Sixth.
TRENT.
OF THE VENGEANCE TAKEN BY CARELESS ON THE TROOPERS.
Notwithout great difficulty did Charles succeed in reaching Abbots Leigh after his perilous adventure in the gorge of the Avon. More than once he got lost in the wood, and had just resolved to lie down at the foot of a tree and wait for dawn, when he caught a glimpse of the mansion. Before they parted Pope had advised him to take refuge for a few hours in the stable, explaining how he could obtain admittance to that building even if the door should be locked; and acting upon this counsel the king proceeded thither at once, and having got inside as directed, threw himself upon a heap of clean straw, and presently fell fast asleep. About five o'clock in the morning he was roused from his slumbers by some one who shook him gently, and when he opened his eyes he beheld Pope and Careless standing near him. The latter looked haggard and worn in the grey light of morning.
Half stupefied by the profound slumber in which his faculties had been wrapped, Charles could not for a few moments recal the events of the preceding night, but as soon as he did so he started up, and fixing an inquiring look on Careless, asked what had happened since he left him.
"She is avenged, and your majesty is freed from two unrelenting enemies," replied Careless, in a sombre tone.
"I understand," said Charles. "I will ask no further questions now. When you have had some repose, of which you must be greatly in need, you shall give me the details."
"There is no time for converse now, my liege," interposedPope. "I must take you to your chamber at once. Half an hour hence the household will be astir, and then your absence will be discovered. Your honour must be good enough to remain here till I return," he added to Careless, "unless you choose to mount to the loft, where you will be perfectly safe and undisturbed."
"The loft will suit me as well as the richest chamber," rejoined Careless. "I am so desperately fatigued that I can sleep anywhere."
And as Pope and the king quitted the stable, Careless climbed the wooden steps that led to the loft.
Proceeding to the rear of the mansion, Pope opened a small door that had been purposely left unbolted, and entering with the king, they mounted a back staircase with the utmost caution, and gained Charles's bedchamber, which was in the upper part of the house.
"Your majesty may take your full rest," said Pope; "all the servants believe you have had a relapse of ague."
He then departed, and Charles threw himself on his couch, and soon forgot his dangers and disappointment.
The day had made a considerable advance before the butler reappeared.
The king was awake and thoroughly rested. While assisting his majesty to dress Pope told him that he had seen Mistress Jane Lane, and informed her of the failure of the enterprise.
"She did not appear surprised," continued the butler, "because she had been full of misgivings, but she was rejoiced that your majesty had been preserved from the treacherous skipper's plots. I did not acquaint her with the sad catastrophe that occurred, as I felt sure it would greatly distress her. No doubt strict inquiries will be made into the affair, but they will lead to nothing, since a clue cannot be obtained to your majesty's retreat."
"I thought you were known to David Price, the tavern-keeper?" observed the king.
"The rascal only knows my name, and has no idea that I am Mr. Norton's servant. On the contrary, he believes that I dwell in Bristol. Captain Rooker, who planned your majesty's capture with the perfidious tavern-keeper, is gone, and the two troopers who aided them in their scheme are likewise disposed of, as Major Careless will explain to you anon. I only wish David Price had shared their fate. But your majesty need have no fear of him. You are quite safe at Abbots Leigh."
"I cannot remain here longer," said Charles. "I must seek assistance from other trusty friends. You are an old soldier, Pope, and have served in the late wars. Do you knowColonel Francis Wyndham, the late knight marshal's brother, and somewhile governor of Dunster Castle?"
"I know him very well, sire," replied the butler, "and I do not know a better or a braver man, nor a more loyal subject of your majesty. About two years ago Colonel Wyndham married Mistress Anne Gerard, daughter and heiress of Squire Thomas Gerard, of Trent, in Somersetshire. Since then he has gone with his wife to live at Trent. His mother, Lady Wyndham, widow of Sir Thomas Wyndham, likewise resides with him. As your majesty may not be acquainted with Trent, I will describe its position. 'Tis a small secluded village, charmingly situated, about midway between Sherborne and Yeovil, and consists of a few scattered habitations—cottages, I ought perhaps to call them—in the midst of which, surrounded by fine old elm-trees, stands the ancient mansion. Close to the yard gate—within a bow-shot of the house—is the church, a fine old pile. I know the manor-house well, for I have often been there, and, unless I am greatly mistaken, it contains hiding-places, in which your majesty could be securely concealed should any search be made. The position of Trent is extremely favourable to your plans. Not only is it out of the main road, and extremely retired, but it is within a few hours' ride of the coast, and I have no doubt whatever that Colonel Wyndham will be able to procure you a vessel at Lyme Regis to transport you to France."
"Was not the colonel taken prisoner when he surrendered Dunster Castle?"
"He was taken to Weymouth, my liege, but released on his parole, so that he can move about without fear of arrest. Formerly he resided at Sherborne, and was there jealously watched by the Parliamentarians, but since his removal to Trent he has not been subjected to so much annoyance. Your majesty may wonder that I know so much about him, but I am well acquainted with the colonel's man, Harry Peters."
"You have decided me," cried Charles. "I will go to Trent. Major Careless shall serve as my avant courier to apprise Colonel Wyndham that I am coming to him."
Shortly afterwards Charles repaired to the butler's pantry, where he breakfasted, taking care when any of the servants came in to feign great debility.
After breakfast he proceeded to the stables, and watching his opportunity, mounted to the loft in which he had learnt from Pope that Careless was concealed.
A slight signal brought out his faithful follower, whose altered looks and manner could not fail to grieve the king. Careless's natural gaiety seemed to have entirely deserted him, and had given place to a gloomy, almost stern, expression.
"I am at your majesty's orders," he said, saluting the king respectfully. "Is there aught I can do?"
"You look so ill," rejoined Charles, in accents of deep concern, "that I hesitate to put your devotion to further test. You need repose. Take it, and we will talk further."
"Action will cure me sooner than rest," rejoined Careless, with a ghastly smile. "Sleep seems to shun me, or if I close my weary eyelids for a moment, I start up again in horror."
"Ease your breast, and tell me what has happened," said the king, in tones that bespoke his profound sympathy.
After a powerful struggle, Careless conquered his emotion sufficiently to enable him to speak coherently, and said:
"You know what anguish I endured when she whom I loved so dearly expired in my arms. I swore to avenge her, and I have kept my oath. No sooner was your majesty gone than I prepared to execute my purpose, and I found Pope, whose blood was up, well disposed to second me. From the sounds we heard, we felt sure that the two murderous caitiffs were still on the opposite bank of the Avon. While I laid down the body tenderly, Pope pushed the boat to the other side of the river, and enabled me to leap ashore. The villains were hurrying towards the spot, and as soon as they descried me through the gloom, they both discharged their pistols at me, but the bullets whistled past me harmlessly. I returned the fire with better effect, for I brought down one of them. Sword in hand, I then rushed upon the other, and a sharp conflict took place between us. Infuriated as I was, he was no match for me, and I drove him to the edge of the precipitous bank. He made a desperate effort to avoid his fate, but I still pressed fiercely on, smote him, and with a wild cry he fell backwards, and was instantly swept away by the rapid current. Having thus executed my vengeful task, I returned to the boat, and was quickly transported to the opposite bank by Pope.
"But now arose the painful question—how were her loved remains to be disposed of? I was almost distracted by the thought of leaving her. Yet what else could be done? At last, however, the difficulty was unexpectedly solved. Pope had fastened the boat to a tree, and had come ashore to confer with me. We were anxiously deliberating together, when the boat, containing her loved remains, suddenly disappeared! It was swept away in an instant—gone beyond the possibility of recovery. Doubtless, as Pope suggested, the rope with which he endeavoured to secure the bark, had become loose, and so the disaster occurred. But I looked upon it then—as I regard it now—as a cruel stroke of fate, by which I was deprived of the sad consolation of seeing her decently interred."
There was a pause, during which Charles showed by his looks how profoundly he sympathised with his attendant.
"Fear not, she will find a grave," he said, at length.
"It may be so," rejoined Careless. "But I shall never know where she lies."
"Banish the painful thought from your mind," said Charles. "You cannot do more than you have done. My firm conviction is that she will find a resting-place in some quiet churchyard, and not at the bottom of the deep as you seem to dread."
"I will strive to think so," rejoined Careless.
Again forcibly repressing his emotion, he added in a firm voice, "Your majesty has some commands for me?"
"You know Colonel Francis Wyndham, I think? He now resides at Trent, in Somersetshire, and I intend to seek an asylum in his house. Do you approve of the plan?"
"Perfectly, my liege. Frank Wyndham is a staunch Royalist. You will be quite secure with him."
"I am glad to hear you say so, though I did not doubt his loyalty. You must ride on to Trent, and advise him of my coming."
"Give me till to-morrow, my liege, and I shall be ready to set out. Were I to start to-day, I might break down on the road."
HOW JANE LANE AGREED TO ATTEND THE KING TO TRENT.
Quittingthe stable, Charles repaired to the butler's pantry, where he found Pope. When the latter was informed of the arrangements made he undertook to provide Major Careless with a horse for his journey to Trent.
"It will be merely necessary to inform Mr. Norton," said the butler, "that a fugitive Cavalier has taken refuge here, and requires to be passed on to the coast. The worthy gentleman will afford him every assistance, and ask no questions."
While they were still conversing, Jane Lane entered the room, and expressed her sincere delight at seeing his majesty safe back again.
"You have proved a true prophetess," Charles said. "You foretold that the attempt would fail, and it has failed. Henceforth, I will be guided by you."
"Then since your majesty permits me to speak, I will venture to say that the plan which Pope tells me you have decided upon is the best that could be adopted. No doubt you will be able to reach Trent without greater difficulties than you havehitherto encountered, and which you have so successfully overcome, and I trust, through Colonel Wyndham's agency, you may procure a vessel to transport you to France."
"To insure me a safe journey to Trent you must accompany me, Jane. Once there I will not tax your services further. Why this hesitation? Surely, you will not fail me at this important juncture?"
"I am bound to obey your commands in all things——"
"But you do not like to go with me to Trent. 'Tis but a two days' journey from this place."
"'Tis not the distance, sire. I would willingly attend your majesty to the furthest point of your kingdom, if you desired me to do so, but——"
"What means this hesitation, Jane? 'Tis scarcely consistent with your previous noble conduct, which led me to suppose that I might rely upon you to the last. Well, I will put no constraint upon you. I will go alone."
"Forgive me, sire," she cried, with a look of great distress. "I will explain myself. A special messenger has just brought me a letter from Sir Clement Fisher."
"Does he forbid your further attendance upon me?" observed Charles, coldly. "Is his authority paramount to mine?"
"I have just said that I will obey you in all things, my liege," she rejoined, in tones that bespoke her trouble. "And do not, I beseech you, blame Sir Clement. He is as deeply devoted to your majesty as I am myself."
"Till now, I thought so."
"Think so still, sire. Sir Clement is a loyal gentleman, and will sacrifice his life for you; but even for his king he will not sacrifice his honour."
"His honour!" exclaimed Charles, startled. "I demand no such sacrifice. Ha! I understand," he added, as a light suddenly broke upon him. "He is fearful that evil and calumnious tongues may seek to blemish your spotless reputation."
"Your majesty has divined the truth," she replied, casting down her eyes.
"I might have guessed it before. But I judged Sir Clement differently. I deemed him superior to the ordinary run of men. Aware as he is of the feelings by which you have been actuated—confident as he must be of your rectitude of principles—how could a single doubt cross his mind?"
"You do him an injustice, my liege. Sir Clement's confidence in me is unshaken. But he fears that others may not view my conduct in the same light."
"There is a spice of jealousy in this," thought the king.
"In the letter which I have just received from him," pursuedJane, "Sir Clement informs me that he is about to start for Abbots Leigh forthwith, and begs me to await his coming."
"I would not have you do otherwise," rejoined Charles. "I am glad he has so decided. His presence will silence all scandal. When do you expect him?"
"To-morrow, sire. I am sure he will be delighted to escort you to Trent."
"His satisfaction will not be diminished by your companionship," remarked Charles, smiling. "No doubt you will have a great many things to say to each other, and that I may not interfere with the conversation, a slight change shall be made in our arrangements. If another horse can be procured, you shall no longer ride behind me."
"Mr. Norton has plenty of horses in his stable, and will lend me one, I am quite sure," she rejoined. "But it is not necessary to make any change on my account."
"Nay, let it be so," said Charles. "You will enjoy much greater freedom. I shall still continue to act as your groom."
"The disguise has hitherto served your majesty so well that I should be sorry if you abandoned it."
"'Twould be highly imprudent to do so," rejoined Charles. "If I reach Trent in safety, I may be compelled to play some new part. Till then I shall continue to be Will Jones. In the expectation of Sir Clement's early arrival, I will send off Major Careless to-morrow to announce my coming to Colonel Wyndham. The rest I leave to you."
"And your majesty may rely upon my making all needful arrangements with Mr. Norton. When do you desire to set out for Trent?"
"Nay, you must consult Sir Clement," observed the king, with a smile. "But should it suit him, we will start on the day after his arrival."
"Your majesty's wishes will be his law," replied Jane.
COLONEL FRANCIS WYNDHAM, OF TRENT.
Understandingfrom Pope that a fugitive Cavalier had sought shelter at Abbots Leigh, Mr. Norton had a private interview with his guest, and on learning his name, offered him all the assistance in his power.
Thanking him most heartily, Careless said if he would provide him with a horse he would esteem it a very great favour.
"What is more, Mr. Norton," he added, "you will materially serve the king."
"Since it is for his majesty's service," replied Mr. Norton, "you shall have the best horse in my stable. Return him or not, as may suit your convenience."
"I shall not fail to acquaint his majesty with your zeal in his behalf, sir," said Careless. "He is well aware of your attachment to him."
"I only wish I had a better opportunity of proving my loyalty, sir. I pray you say as much to the king. I will not ask questions which you may be unwilling to answer, but I shall unfeignedly rejoice to hear that his majesty has escaped."
"I trust it will not be long before you receive that satisfactory intelligence, sir," said Careless. "And I am sure it will gratify you to reflect that you have contributed to so desirable a result. When next we meet I hope I may salute you as Sir George Norton."
"I hope so, too, sir," rejoined the other; "for in that case his majesty will have been restored to the throne."
After this interview Careless was not allowed to return to his place of concealment in the stable, but was lodged in a chamber in the upper part of the house, not far from the room occupied by the king, so that they had an opportunity of conferring together.
At a very early hour on the following morning Careless started on his mission. He was well mounted, for Mr. Norton had strictly fulfilled his promise, and given him his best horse. In his present distracted frame of mind, nothing could have suited the king's faithful adherent better than the task he had undertaken, as he hoped that hard exercise would enable him to shake off the painful idea by which he was haunted.
He rode on throughout the day, halting only when it was necessary to refresh his steed. Fortunately, he met with no hindrance, though once or twice he was compelled to quit the direct course. His last halt was at Sherborne, and he was then nearly at the end of his journey.
A pleasant ride of a few miles from this charming old town brought him to a secluded little village, consisting only of a few scattered cottages, in the midst of which stood an antique church.
This was Trent. It was growing dusk as he approached the village, and the place was so surrounded by trees that he could only just discern the spire of the church. But he knew that in the midst of those lofty elms stood the old manor-house, of which he was in quest, so he rode on without making any inquiries from the few rustics he encountered.
Pursuing his course along a narrow winding lane, overhung by trees, and skirted here and there by a cottage, having whitewashed walls and a grey thatched roof, he came to the church,close to which stood the old manor-house—a large, low building, solidly constructed of stone, with shingled roof, mullioned windows, and an entrance covered by a pent house. This was the rear of the mansion, but the front looked upon a smooth lawn, bordered, as we have said, by lofty elm-trees, inhabited by a colony of rooks.
Trent House was not approached by an avenue, and to this circumstance it chiefly owed its extreme privacy. The entrance being at the rear was reached from a large yard, differing very little, except in size, from the enclosure ordinarily attached to a substantial farm-house. On the right of the yard were the stables and other outbuildings.