"Dear Son,--I have been in a state of anguish of mind not to be described from Wednesday last, the twenty-second of the month, till this present Tuesday, the twenty-eighth. I had heard, and that from authority which appeared not to be doubted, that you had been mad enough to engage in a duel, notwithstanding all the principles which I have endeavored to instill into your mind; that you had killed your adversary, and that the slain man was your cousin Henry. Now I have ever held, and have endeavored to teach you to hold, that dueling is not only murder, but murder of the most aggravated kind. The slaughter of the man may take place by accident--by a hasty blow in a moment of passion--in self-defense, when suddenly assailed--or in a general tumult or commotion; and in these cases the law of man--and, let us not doubt, the law of God also--deals leniently. But in the case of a duel, there is no sound and legitimate excuse whatsoever for the man who slays another. He has time for reflection, therefore the act is deliberate and premeditated. He goes out to kill, and he kills. Nor is it any mitigation whatsoever of his offense that his adversary came there with the same purpose toward himself; for the crime of the one can never excuse the crime of the other. Still less is it an excuse that dueling is a custom of society; for every Christian and every philosopher must perceive that this custom of society is in itself a criminal one, a proof of its barbarism rather than its civilization; and he who sanctions it by his example, commits, in addition to the particular crime of murder, a general offense against society and mankind by encouraging and perpetuating a criminal habit which all good men should unite to put down. Thus, to the eyes of God, and to the eyes of all reasoning men likewise, the act of killing another in a duel is the most aggravated kind of murder; for the evil is not confined to the offense, but spreads round as a diffusible poison, affecting detrimentally the whole mass of society. There are but three occasions in which any man is justified in taking the life of another: in actual defense of his own life--in defense of his country--and in obedience to the laws of his country. All other cases are murder. Now you may easily conceive, my dear son, how much pain it gave me to think for one whole week that my son was a murderer. I have this day, however, received from a person calling himself Moraber, whom you must have heard of in our neighborhood, the most strong and solemn assurance that you are innocent of this terrible offense--that you did not fight your cousin, and that he was slain by some other hand. I believe the information to be correct, for my informant is above suspicion; but yet I beseech you, if it be possible, write me the same assurance, that my mind may be freed completely from anguish such as I have never known--nay, not even when it pleased Heaven to take from me your beloved mother."
The writing went on for several pages further; but Lady Danvers stopped there, and returned the letter to Ralph, saying, "I agree with him entirely, Ralph. But to return to this Moraber. What can he know of any thing that is taking place here? He tells you that immediate flight is necessary to your safety; that you have but two days to execute it after the receipt of his letter; yet the letter is itself nearly a fortnight old."
"I have still surer information than that," replied Ralph. "Here is another letter, which I will show to no eyes but your own, dear Lady Danvers. After all your kindness and generosity toward me, however, I can keep back no secret of my heart from you."
Again Lady Danvers took the letter he offered, and read. It was brief, hastily written in a woman's hand, and to the following effect:
"An opportunity has suddenly presented itself, dear Ralph, of sending to you a few lines, and I seize it, first, to assure you that, notwithstanding all that men accuse you of, I do not believe one word of the tale. Your love for Margaret would never suffer you to slay her brother. Secondly, I write to tell you that dangers of various kinds menace you where you are. Your place of concealment has been discovered. Orders will be dispatched this very night to the troops marching against the Duke of Monmouth, to occupy Danvers's New Church as a military post, and apprehend you if you are found there. Fly immediately! and, if possible, till the storm is passed, take refuge across the sea. The dear and beautiful lady with whom you are will doubtless be able to provide you with the means of escape, and if so, will merit more than, even at present, the eternal gratitude of your own
"Margaret."
Strange and beautiful were the changes of expression which came over the face of Hortensia Danvers as she read those words. The very first sentence called the warm blood rushing into her cheek, like the light of the morning sun kindling the white clouds on the horizon. Then the glow faded away again. Back, back to the heart every warm, thrilling drop was withdrawn, and her beautiful face remained pale as that of a marble statue, while her eyes fixed upon the lines as if every word had been a fate to her who read. Even after she had done, she held up the letter still in her hand, gazing at it in deep silence.
"I must tell you, dear Lady Danvers," said Ralph, in his inexperience not reading her looks aright, "I must tell you that my cousin Margaret and myself have loved each other warmly from childhood, and that it was the hope--a hope almost insane--of winning her father's consent to our union that led me forth to seek my fortune in the wide world--"
"Here--take it! take it!" said Hortensia, putting the letter in his hand; "I will be back directly; all this news confounds me; I must think--alone and in quiet. I will be back soon, and we will decide upon something."
Again the warm blood rushed into her cheek, as if some sudden thought, for which she took shame to herself, crossed her mind secretly, and she added, in a faltering voice, "To have my house occupied by troops! I will be back presently."
For nearly half an hour Ralph walked up and down the hall alone; but then, with a slow and somewhat languid step, Hortensia rejoined him, and seated herself near the table. Not a trace of tears was upon her cheek; she had evidently not been weeping, but she was still as pale as alabaster, though her eyes beamed with even more light than usual. Was it that there had been a deadly struggle of passions in her heart? that she had been the victor? that the light of triumph was in her eyes, but that the exhaustion of combat well-nigh overpowered even the conqueror? Perhaps so; but certainly she betrayed no evidence of the struggle in her manner toward Ralph. She was as kind, as warm, as eager as ever.
He had still the roll of letters in his hand, and, pointing to them, she said, with her sweet smile and musical voice, "I must do something, Ralph, to win this dear girl's gratitude, as she trusts to me. Let me see the letter again."
He gave it to her. She read it through, and then murmuring, "May she be happy!" pressed her lips upon Margaret's name. When she gave it back to Ralph, there was a single tear upon it, and that was all she shed.
"Now," said Hortensia, gayly, "we must to counsel, to see if we can not out-maneuver our enemies. There is further down the coast a little port called Seaton, where there used to be large and very safe boats which they called luggers. I was a great favorite there with the good fishermen when I was a child, and methinks, if we can reach that port, it would be very easy to hire one of these boats, if not to convey you to the coast of France or Holland, at least to land you at some other English port where you may find a vessel ready to sail."
"Perhaps I had better set out at once," said Ralph; "my horse is quite fresh now, and, with some one to guide me, I could reach the port rapidly."
"No, no, that will never do," replied Lady Danvers; "the country is all covered with troops, and you will be stopped to a certainty. I will tell you how we must manage. During the day we will send forth people in all directions to ascertain what roads are clear. Then, toward evening, we will set out in my carriage, as it were, for an hour's drive round the place. No one dare stop me; and after that we shall have darkness to befriend us. We can take the roads we know to be open, and as your friend Moraber gives you two whole days, we shall be within the limit."
"Nay, nay," said Ralph, "I will not have you peril yourself for me. That must not be, dear Lady Danvers."
"Well, I will convoy you part of the way," said Hortensia. "Let your servant ride on to Seaton, obtain information there, and meet us on the road. One of my people can mount your horse; and when you need the beast, the man can get upon the carriage to return. This will be the surest way; and if we obtain good intelligence, I shall run no risk, nor you either, I trust, Ralph."
So was it settled; and the same evening Ralph and Hortensia began a pilgrimage which will require a chapter to itself.
There had been very few visitors to Danvers's New Church during the morning. Something had kept every one away but the parson of the parish, and an old lady of the village, who held a sort of middle station between the gentry and the yeomanry of the country, and prided herself upon knowing all the affairs of both. Trustworthy servants, however, had been coming and going all the day; and they brought intelligence which showed that a considerable circuit must be taken round the town of Axminster, in order to avoid the two contending parties in the western counties, then actually coming to hard blows with each other.
About four o'clock Gaunt Stilling set off on horseback for Seaton, the way to which he knew well, and his business at which place was explained to him easily. He was to meet Lady Danvers and Ralph a little to the eastward of Axminster, and let them know the result of his inquiries at Seaton; but his instructions were totally independent of the various scouts which had been sent forth, and the rumors which Hortensia received from the latter were somewhat contradictory, especially toward the close of the day.
Nevertheless, about an hour before sunset, the great lumbering carriage was brought round to the door; the lady and Ralph entered it; and, followed by several armed servants on horseback, they took their way toward the upper gates, by a road not quite so much frequented as either the lower road or the foot-path which crossed the park below the house. It was a soft and not unpleasant evening, such as one often finds in that climate, with a misty, hazy sort of air, through which the sun struggled from time to time, shedding a rosy light over the whole scene around.
Hortensia was somewhat silent, and evidently anxious--I do not mean to say frightened, for she was unconscious of any personal danger--but the perils of her companion seemed to weigh upon her; and when she did converse, her whole conversation consisted of inquiries, consultations, and advice as to the best means of passing on undetected till an assured place of safety should be reached. Every consideration seemed merged in that one. There was no longer the light, lark-like flight of fancy which had often, in the leisure hours preceding, carried away the mind of Ralph Woodhall into far etherial fields of space; there was no longer the calm, thoughtful, yet not unimaginative wandering of the spirit through more familiar scenes filled with association, where, side by side, they had gone on over the leas, and through the meadows of ordinary life, drawing as much essence of dream from a cowslip, or a primrose, or a violet, as bolder efforts of the fancy would extract from the high mountain or the floating cloud. All was now hard, dry matter of necessity and business. That was the only difference between the communion of the preceding days and that of the present; but it was great.
The edge of the sky grew rosy; the sun set; the night came. The misty clouds, from which had dropped, occasionally, large tears upon the earth, passed away like gloomy thoughts from a bright mind; and star by star came out in the refreshed sky, and looked down upon the earth in melancholy calmness.
Alone, and side by side, Hortensia Danvers and Ralph Woodhall wended slowly on. I must not pretend to look into her bosom; the eye of man never did. There may be some women who can divine what mysterious things were passing therein, but even of women, not all.
It were vain to say that at that moment--which to him seemed the real parting moment--Ralph Woodhall did not feel many deep, many strong emotions at the thought of being severed, perhaps forever, from one so beautiful, so gentle, so generous, so kind. It is too rare to find pure, disinterested friendship on the earth for one of a high heart to meet with it untouched. He forgot himself--his fate--his peril--the pressing urgency of petty circumstances--the momentary dangers that beset his way--the trifling incidents that at every step might change his destiny for good or ill. He thought only of Hortensia; and yet with such thoughts that Margaret might have seen them all, joined them, and shared them.
There was a deep silence for a considerable length of time. Had there been any other soul within the carriage, not sharing in their thoughts, to him it would have seemed very long. To them it was all too brief for the crowded feelings they forced into it.
At length Ralph could refrain no more. He took Hortensia's hand in his: he pressed it to his lips, and said, "Oh, dear Lady Danvers, how can I ever thank you sufficiently--how can I ever explain to you all I feel. Your kindness--your many acts of kindness, have come upon me like a torrent, so rapidly that I have had no time to breathe or think till this moment; and now, when I still feel the full force of all, we are going to part for God knows how long!"
"Hush!" said Hortensia, in a low, agitated voice; "hush!" and for a single instant she leaned her fair brow upon his shoulder; then raising it calmly, she added, "Ralph, my dear brother, we must not think of any thing which can withdraw our attention from the present perilous hour. If you escape happily and well--as God in his great mercy grant--tell your Margaret, with Hortensia's love, that she did all in her power to save and aid you--nay, tell her," she added, in a more cheerful tone--though there was a touch of fluttering effort about it too--"nay, tell her that in after years, perhaps, when storms have vanished and the skies are clear, Hortensia will come to visit you both in your happiness and claim the gratitude she promised, and, then rejoicing, will talk of days of sorrow and of peril passed away."
Silence fell upon them again. Was that a sob? It was very like one.
Whatever it was, it was drowned the moment after in the rattle of musketry; there was a flash, too--distant, but near enough to show suddenly the tower of a large Cathedral-looking church, long lines of houses, and stacks of chimneys, and undulating hedgerows, and wavy-outlined trees. The next moment--not in one volley, but in an irregular running fire--shot after shot was heard, sometimes single, sometimes two or three together, sometimes as if from whole platoons, while quick reiterated flashes ran along all the hedgerows within sight, and then the roar of a cannon or two was heard, with a shrill sound of fifes and drums.
In an instant Ralph's hand was upon the door of the carriage, and before Hortensia could beseech him to forbear, he had sprang out.
"Here, Jones, give me my horse!" he cried. "Turn round the carriage, and away back with all speed! What! is the lane too narrow? On before there seems a wider space. Stay! I will ride on and see. Coachman, you must get your mistress out of this peril as speedily as possible. Come after me slowly; some one put the cushions against the front windows; you, men on horseback, gather round the carriage--take no part with any one, but defend your lady."
Then dashing forward, he was for a moment lost in the darkness, till his voice was heard shouting, "Here! here is room to turn;" and the coachman hurried on his horses at the utmost speed to a place where a wide, open space, with a gate leading into a field, seemed to give a chance of wheeling round the lumbering vehicle.
At that moment, however, just as the four horses, somewhat restive with the noise and confusion, were plunging and rearing, and a man on foot was striving to turn the heads of the leaders round, the whole evolution was interrupted by a number of men in military garb, but not array, running as if for life up the lane, and dashing against the horses and the carriage.
One of the fugitives exclaimed, evidently mistaking Ralph, who had his sword drawn, for some one else, "All's lost, my lord, all's lost--Monmouth has won the day, and the men are running like devils."
Thus saying, he flung his musket into the ditch and ran on, only to be succeeded by another still more terrified, who had already denuded himself of cap and weapons, and was struggling to get out of a military jacket which seemed to cling to him like the coat of Nessus. He cried, "Monmouth! Monmouth! The Protestant religion forever, and d--n papacy, and prelacy, and the pope of Rome!"
"Here! draw up across the lane!" cried Ralph, addressing the horsemen who accompanied the carriage; "keep a sufficient space clear for the coach to turn; let another footman go to the head of the horses--get them quickly round--soothe them, soothe them!"
At that moment a sharp volley came up the lane, and one of the balls rattled against the carriage. Ralph spurred instantly toward the side, but, ere he reached it, his horse staggered and sunk upon its haunches.
"You are not hurt, Hortensia?" he said, springing from the saddle. "Oh God! you are not hurt?"
"No, no," she cried, "but you're wounded, Ralph."
"Not in the least," he answered; "it is but the horse;" and, running forward, he aided with better skill in turning the carriage round.
While thus employed, a party of horsemen of distinguished mien galloped up the lane, and one of them, with a hat loaded with plumes, paused for an instant to ask, "Whose carriage is this? In Heaven's name, how came you here?"
"We were going to Axminster," replied Ralph, "but suppose it is in the hands of the Duke of Monmouth. We can hardly get the carriage round."
"As difficult as I have found it to take Axminster with two regiments of boobies and a handful of plowmen," replied the other. "I fear we can not stay to help you. If you fall into the hands of Monmouth, give him the Duke of Albemarle's compliments, and say I hope we shall meet again some day soon."
"Come, come, my lord, this is no time for jesting," said another of the horsemen; and the party rode on, leaving the ground clearer than it had been before.
A few moments only were now required to turn the carriage completely; but the lane was deep and muddy, and little progress was likely to be made, while it seemed certain that pursued and pursuers would still be urging their course along the very path which it was necessary to follow in order to reach Danvers's New Church.
Ralph gave a look at his horse, but the poor beast was now stretched out with his head flat in the clay, and it was necessary to drag him out of the road before the carriage could pass. This consumed some time, and several fugitives hurried by, exclaiming as they went, "They are coming! They are coming! You had better make haste."
At length the carcass of the horse was removed, and, taking the pistols from the holsters, Ralph approached the side of the carriage, saying, "I know not whether I can best give you protection by mounting another horse and riding by your side, or--"
"No, no, come in, come in," said Hortensia. "I need some one with me--I am foolishly frightened."
Ralph instantly opened the door, but, turning to the men ere he entered, he said, "Draw round as close as possible; each keep a cocked pistol in his hand. Bid every one stand off, saying we are peaceful travelers avoiding the affray. Be firm, but forbear any violence. Now, coachman, drive on as fast as you can go."
Thus saying, he entered the carriage and seated himself by Hortensia's side, while the coachman plied the whip with terrified vehemence, and the horses dashed on quicker than probably they had ever been known to go before. In the rumbling and rattling of the wheels, and their grating through the stones and mud, the sounds from without--although there was still firing, and shouting, and running going on all around--were not very distinctly heard; but there were some clear, sweet, musical tones fell distinctly enough upon Ralph's ear: "Oh, Ralph, tell me--assure me that you are not hurt," said Hortensia. "I am sure I saw you reel upon the horse as if a ball had struck you."
"It was the horse who staggered and fell," replied Ralph; "I can assure you I am not hurt at all."
"Thank God!" said Hortensia, with a deep sigh; and Ralph went on to add, "I feared you might be hurt, for I heard a bullet strike the carriage."
"Did it?" said Hortensia; "I was not aware of it. It did not come near me; and I was looking out, and thinking how wildly you men expose yourselves unnecessarily, more than of any thing else."
"Not unnecessarily," replied Ralph, "depend upon it; it needs some one to command under such circumstances."
"And that you did right well, most certainly," replied Lady Danvers, assuming a tone of gayety not very congenial to her feelings; "I could have fancied you a general, and think, indeed, you should have been a soldier. But what are we to do now? What is to become of us?"
"We must go back to Danvers's New Church at once," replied Ralph. "We have no other choice; and I must try my fortune alone early to-morrow morning. It is strange we have heard nothing of Gaunt Stilling."
Hortensia did not reply, and after a moment Ralph added, "The firing seems further off now, to the east of the town. I strongly suspect Monmouth will not pursue his advantage--his troops are too raw. Is any thing the matter? You do not speak."
"No, Ralph, no," she answered; "my heart is very full with many mingled feelings; some joy--as, for instance, at our escape from danger--some apprehension, some sorrow; but I trust that to-morrow will bring better fortune, and that, ere night, I shall hear that you are safe, Ralph."
She called him Ralph twice in the same short answer, and it was pleasant to his ear; but she had remarked that from the moment when he sprang from the carriage he had given her no name whatever, except once that of Hortensia. He would not--he dared not, call her so again, after the first excitement was over, and yet, with the warm sound upon his lips, he could not bring them to utter a colder name. Their thoughts were both upon the same subject at the same moment.
The sound of the firing had nearly ceased. The fugitives who were still passing were few and scattered, and the moon was rising slowly in the east, and silvering over the heaven behind a wooded hill, and a tall, ancient-looking farmhouse upon a high, stony bank, when suddenly a loud voice cried, "Halt! who goes there?"
The coachman instantly pulled in his reins, and Ralph, putting his head out of the carriage, replied, "Friends! whose post is this? Standoff, for the men are armed, and we want no more confusion."
"What friends?" demanded the sentry.
"Lady Danvers and her servants," replied Ralph, knowing the announcement could do no one any harm but himself. "She is seeking to return to her own house, as she finds she can not get to Axminster. Who commands at this post, fellow, I ask again?"
"George Monk, duke of Albemarle," replied the militiaman, stoutly; "and, I can tell you, you must stop till he says that you can go on, for if you come a step further, I will shoot one of your great coach horses."
The sentinel who spoke the words with which the last chapter concluded was placed in a little hollow way, or cut in the steep bank through which the lane had to wind on in order to pass over the hill. He was evidently a country boor of the Duke of Albemarle's militia, unacquainted with military service, and as likely as not to put his threat of shooting one of the coach-horses in execution. But before Ralph could think of what was next to be done, or Lady Danvers could say a word, a figure was seen to drop down from the bank behind the poor soldier, seize him by the throat, and with very little ceremony wrench his musket out of his hands, taking special care to allow him no opportunity of discharging it in the struggle.
"A pretty fellow you are, to stop a lady's carriage on the king's highway," cried a voice which Ralph recognized right well. "There! go and tell the duke what you've been doing, and get well punished for your pains. He never told you to stop Lady Danvers's carriage, I'm sure."
Thus saying, Gaunt Stilling shook the powder out of the pan of the man's musket, and, giving him a kick behind, sent him running up toward the farmhouse I have mentioned.
"Quick, my lady," said the servant; "you had better drive back to Danvers's New Church as fast as possible. You can not pass any other way; I will overtake you soon; jog along, Master Coachman."
He sprang up the bank again as he spoke, and the carriage moved forward.
It is probable that the Duke of Albemarle, who was of a more jovial temper than his renowned father, only laughed at the sentry's mishap. Certain it is, he gave no orders for pursuing the carriage of Lady Danvers; and Ralph and his fair companion continued their journey uninterrupted. That journey was slow in its progress, however, and it was nearly two o'clock in the morning before the carriage entered the park. The moon, which had risen clear, had become dim and cloudy--not altogether obscured, indeed, but partially vailed in thin clouds, amid which her rays formed a broad yellow halo, auguring ill of the coming weather. The beautiful park itself, the dark trees, the solemn old house standing on its eminence, all had a sad and gloomy aspect in that sort of dreary twilight, and with a wearied frame, and a heart not happy, the buoyant spirit of Hortensia fell. She sat silent and thoughtful by Ralph's side, and more than once felt that she could weep and find relief in tears if she were alone.
She restrained them, however, and strove to look cheerful when Ralph at length aided her to alight at her own door.
"Ah, my lady," said Mr. Drayton, "I'm glad to see you back, for rumors have come in of a battle near Axminster."
"In the midst of which we have been, Drayton," replied his lady.
"Oh, a mere skirmish, madam," said Gaunt Stilling, advancing from the hall door; "but I have some news to give you and my master, for which I will crave your attention as soon as may be."
"Come in here, come in here," said Hortensia, turning toward the little room in which Ralph had made his principal abode during her absence.
"If you are going to use the coach to-morrow, my lady," said the coachman, coming up the steps, "I had better get the carpenter and the blacksmith up at once, for two bullets have gone right into the hind axle-tree."
"We can use some other lighter carriage," said Lady Danvers, thoughtfully; "the vis-à-vis--"
"Lord bless you, my lady, it would be knocked all to pieces." said the coachman; "and, besides, that can't be, for it is in Lunnun, and all the other carriages, for that matter."
"Well, then, Harrison, get this mended as well as you can, without sending up to the village. Now, Master Stilling;" and, accompanied by Ralph, she bade the man who followed shut the door.
"I'm very sorry, sir," said Gaunt Stilling, addressing his master, "that I could not get back in time to stop your going on; but I was met and turned at every point, like a hare by the grayhounds, so that I was three times as long as I need otherwise have been. However, it's quite useless going to Seaton; for an embargo has been laid on all the boats, and the Tory magistrates are strong in the village. I have found out, however, from some of the old boatmen, that there is a much better chance in the Bristol Channel. You mustn't go to Bristol itself, for Lord Pembroke is there, and he has probably got his orders with regard to you; but if you can cut across to any of the little ports, or to Bridgewater, you are sure to find a ship, and seamen ready enough. It will cost a good sum, though, they say."
"That matters not." said Lady Danvers. "But are you sure that he can pass?"
"There is nothing sure in this world, dear lady," said Ralph, "unless it be woman's kindness; but in such matters we must take our chance, do the best we can, and leave the rest to the will of Heaven."
"If I could have a fresh horse to-morrow, my lady," said Gaunt Stilling, "I will undertake to make sure of a path. My own beast will rest in the mean time, and my master and I can set out at night--only it would be a great deal better for you to stay here, if I may be so bold, for we shall get on twice as last on horseback, and not draw so many eyes."
"But it may be dangerous for him to remain here," said Hortensia; and, looking round to Ralph, she asked, in a low voice, "May I tell him what we have heard?"
"Oh yes, we can confide in him entirely," replied Ralph; adding, "The truth is, Stilling, we have information that this house is to be occupied by the king's troops, with a special injunction to apprehend me if I am found within its walls. Orders have been already sent to Lord Feversham to that effect."
"Lord Feversham is a gentleman, if not a soldier," answered Gaunt Stilling, with a laugh, "and he will do every thing ceremoniously. It would be no hard matter to bamboozle him. I would undertake to pass my master upon him for a cardinal in disguise--but I thought, sir, you had two whole days to come and go upon?"
"What! then you have heard from our friend in Lincolnshire too?" said Ralph.
"Yes, sir," replied the man, "and you may depend upon what he says. Lord Feversham is near three days' march upon the right--at least he was this morning; and if you can but keep yourself still and quiet in the house, there is no fear till I come back. He has no horse to spare; and he could not move infantry down in time, let them go as fast as they will. My plan was to let them get in advance of us, and then pass in their rear; but if they are to occupy this house, that will not do, and we must get in the rear of Monmouth instead. He is certain to move forward from Axminster, I suppose, after his successful skirmish, which he fought cleverly enough, if he had but known how to draw good use out of it afterward. I shall hear what he is doing, however, to-morrow, and if he marches toward Bath, as I think likely, we can easily cut across behind him, and get to the coast before a battle is fought."
"Do you think, then, he will fight a general battle?" asked Ralph.
"Oh, beyond doubt," answered Gaunt Stilling; "his men are bad enough, it is true, and badly armed too; but then it does not require old Greeks to beat a coxcomb like Feversham. They tell me, however, that Churchill is there, and Oglethorpe, and the Tangier regiment, and Dumbarton's; and it would require men who had smelt powder to fight those fellows."
There was a knock at the door at this moment, which interrupted the conversation for a time; the worthy steward, partly moved, perhaps, by curiosity, partly by anxiety for his lady's health, having come to inquire whether she would not take some refreshment after her fatiguing journey.
Brief consultation between Ralph and Hortensia during supper confirmed the resolution, already half taken, to follow the counsels of Gaunt Stilling, and Lady Danvers even submitted to the necessity of letting her young guest seek safety alone, without offering a word of objection to that which she believed would prove most favorable to his purpose.
A horse was accordingly ordered for Stilling, to be ready early on the following morning, and Ralph and Hortensia parted to seek repose.
The following day broke dull and heavily. Drops of rain fell from time to time; the sky was covered with a mantle of gray cloud. The whole aspect of Nature was well in harmony with the feelings of two dear friends about to part in peril and anxiety--to part, with a dark, uncertain future before them--without any knowledge to guide hope as to the when, and the where, and the how they were ever to meet again.
How often is it, even when hands are clasped, and eyes are bright with expectation, and lips murmur hopefully, "We shall soon meet again," that grim Fate stands sternly by, and puts in the dark word of contradiction, "Never!" But there are sadder partings--partings where the word of Fate is heard like thunder--and partings where, though the word be not actually spoken, yet the frown upon the forehead of Destiny fills the heart with dread, and wild, unhopeful doubt.
Such was the parting for which Hortensia prepared herself; but, happily for her, there was much to be done to fill up the intervening hours. The best horse of her stable had to be selected for Ralph's use to supply the place of that which he had lost; and then she had to persuade, to insist, to argue with him on the matter of receiving from her the means of hiring a vessel, at whatever cost, to carry him to the Dutch coast.
It is very strange; three days before, he would have had no hesitation whatsoever in profiting by her kindness at once; but now, he strove to avoid--to evade it. He assured her he had enough--that he had all he wanted, even while he was calculating in his own mind what amount he could obtain for the various trinkets he possessed. I will not try to look into his motives, for he would not look into them himself, although he carried his refusal almost to a point of coldness. It was only in the end, when Hortensia, with a faltering voice, said, "For Margaret's sake, Ralph," that he yielded even in part, and accepted assistance which she thought infinitely small.
She made up her mind, however, as to the means of foiling his false delicacy, as she called it; and she proceeded to execute her plan as soon as she was left alone. It is true that she would fain have had him stay with her the whole day. Each minute seemed valuable; they were the last drops in the flask. But he had to write a letter to his father; and though it was not long, the time that it occupied was the dullest of the day to Hortensia. To occupy a part of it, however, she sent for her steward as soon as she was alone.
"I know not, Master Drayton," she said, "what rents you have got in, but there are circumstances existing which will speedily require more money than I have brought with me. I dare say you recollect quite well my mother's friend, Mistress Woodhall, for you must have been with my father before her death."
"Oh, quite well, my lady," replied Mr. Drayton, "and a beautiful creature she was."
"Now this young gentleman that is here is her son," continued Hortensia, "and I feel toward him and would act toward him as a sister, if he would but let me. From circumstances not necessary to mention more than I have done before, it is needful that he should go to Holland as fast as possible. Now you can easily judge that to hire a vessel for that voyage will in these present times cost very dear. He thinks he has got quite enough. I know that he has not; but he will accept no more; therefore I must contrive to place the necessary funds in the hands of his servant Stilling, if you think the man is to be trusted."
"Oh, perfectly, my lady, perfectly," replied Mr. Drayton. "How much does your ladyship think will be required?"
"Not less than five hundred pounds," replied Lady Danvers.
"I have not so much in the house," said Mr. Drayton, somewhat surprised, "but I will easily procure it in the course of the day, and will get all that I can in gold, as most convenient to carry; but the tenants often pay their rents in great heaps of silver, which takes hours to count. When will it be needed, my lady?"
"Before nightfall, at all events," replied Lady Danvers. "When you have got it, Mr. Drayton, give it into the hands of the good man Stilling, for his master's use. You had better, perhaps, take a receipt for it, and tell him to employ it at once in case of any difficulty being made about the hire of a vessel. You are sure you can trust him?"
"Oh, quite sure," replied Mr. Drayton; "ha is very moody and somewhat passionate, but as honest a man as ever lived."
When this conversation was over, Hortensia passed the next half hour as best she might, sadly and thoughtfully enough, walking up and down the terrace before the house in despite of the drops of rain which fell from time to time. At length she was joined by Ralph, and strove steadily to appear cheerful, if not happy. They conversed of many things--some bright--some dark--some pertinent to the occasion and the circumstances--some wandering far away into realms where thought but too often did not keep pace with words.
Thus passed away hour after hour; and though, to vary the time, Hortensia and Ralph sat down to the usual meals, but little food was taken, and thought and conversation went on as before.
At length, about an hour before sunset, as they were sitting in a large, beautifully-furnished corner room, which commanded two views of the park, they heard the sound of a horse's feet coming at speed, and Ralph went to the window, saying, "Here is Stilling, returned, I suppose--No! it is a stranger, in a military dress."
The man pushed his horse up the terrace, and rang the great bell without dismounting; and Hortensia, opening the door of the room, which was near the head of the stairs, listened eagerly.
Slowly the old porter swung back the heavy house door, and a voice from without said, "Here is a letter addressed to the Right Honorable Lady Hortensia, Baroness Danvers--come, take it, for I must be on to Dorchester."
"Who is it from?" asked the old porter, not hurrying his steps in the least.
"From the Earl of Feversham," replied the soldier; "I have had hard work to find this out-of-the-way place."
"Won't you dismount and take a glass of ale?" inquired the porter; but the man replied, "No, no, I must not stay;" and, turning his horse, he trotted quickly away.
"These are tidings, Ralph," said Hortensia; "let us go and see what they are;" and, descending to the floor below, she met the old man with the letter in his hand. She refrained from opening it till she and Ralph were again alone, but then perused the few lines it contained eagerly. They were written in French, the earl's native language, and contained the usual amount of unmeaning compliment and prettiness. Stripped of all verbiage, however, the purport of the letter was to inform Lady Danvers, as in gallantry and duty bound, that the position of Lord Feversham's forces and his line of march compelled him, most unwillingly, to occupy her house and park as a military post of much importance. "I have given the strictest orders," continued the earl, "that your beautiful ladyship be not put to the slightest uneasiness or inconvenience; but as the receiving of a large body of infantry without notice might embarrass you, I have thought fit, in due devotion to your beautiful eyes, to overlook a little the strict line of military duty, in order to give you intimation a whole day beforehand, that the gallant Colonel Kirke, with the Tangier regiment, will crave your hospitality to-morrow at some period between the hours of four and seven, post meridian. We trust very soon to come at the end of these rebellions, and, in the mean time, I commend myself, my lady, to your good graces and favorable consideration.Feversham."
The eyes of Ralph and Hortensia instantly turned to the date of the letter, and, with a feeling of relief, they perceived that it had been written on the morning of the same day, so that four-and-twenty hours were clear before them.
"Do you know any thing of this Colonel Kirke?" asked Ralph.
"Nothing whatever," replied Hortensia; "but I know the Tangier regiment does not bear the best name in the world."
"Of its qualities," said Ralph, with a smile, "we can get full, though perhaps not unprejudiced information from Stilling when he returns, for he once served in this very corps. He can not be long now, I suppose."
Nor was he; for he must have passed Lord Feversham's messenger very nearly at the gates of the park, and the letter had not been read ten minutes when he entered the room.
"Well, Stilling, what news?" said his master; "I was beginning to be somewhat anxious for your return."
"Plenty of time, sir--plenty of time," said Gaunt Stilling, "and my news is good. A schooner or a brig can certainly be hired in the Channel, and at no very hard rate. The way, too, is open, for Monmouth is moving to the eastward, as I expected. The people behind him are all in his favor, and the magistrates are powerless. No warrants run there. Still, as parties of troops are scouring about here and there--no one knows where--it will be better to take the low horse road, which leaves Taunton and all those towns on one side. I was only afraid that some of the king's officers might have occupied the little hamlet at St. Mary's, in order to command that road, and that Monmouth might have left it behind unnoticed, thinking he could force it at any time. I find, however, that a part of Oglethorpe's corps, which was quartered there, retreated this morning for fear they should be cut off, so that the way is clear and easy to Bridgewater, where we shall be sure to hear of ships."
"We shall have ample time, too," replied Ralph, "for Colonel Kirke will certainly not be here before four o'clock to-morrow afternoon."
"Colonel Kirke! Colonel Kirke!" exclaimed Gaunt Stilling, with an air of consternation; "is he coming here?"
"So we are informed by Lord Feversham," said Hortensia. "Do you know any thing of that gentleman?"
"God's life! my lady, quite enough," replied Gaunt Stilling; "pray forgive me, but who is coming with him?"
"The Tangier regiment, which he commands, I believe," answered Lady Danvers. "You know something of them, Mr. Woodhall tells me."
"I know this, my lady," replied Gaunt Stilling, "that if they come here, and Kirke at their head, this house is no place for you, or any lady or poor girl either. It is impossible, sir," he continued, turning to Ralph, "that Lady Danvers can remain here, if Kirke and these Tangier men are coming. I served with them for three years in Africa; and if I had been inclined to disbelieve in the existence of a devil, I should have had no doubt afterward, for I had more than four hundred real ones all round me, and the arch fiend at their head. I beg your pardon, my lady, for speaking so plainly, especially as not long ago I was all for having you stay here, and letting Mr. Woodhall and myself find our way alone. But now I see it can not be done. You must not remain an hour, nay, not ten minutes in the same house with Kirke and the Tangier men. There is no knowing what they have done, and what they will dare to do--Oh, if I could but tell you all I know! You must either come with us, or let us see you to some place of safety."
Lady Danvers smiled somewhat sadly. "I fear I must not come with you," she said, "if you mean to Holland; but I have friends both in the neighborhood of Wells and Bristol who will gladly give me refuge."
"Then, madam, if you will take my advice," replied Gaunt Stilling, "you will take care of your plate, and all the pretty little knickknacks that I see lying about all over the house, or you will find clear boards when you come back again."
"I will order all the rooms to be locked up," said Hortensia, "except those where the men must sleep."
"The Tangier regiment don't mind locks, my lady," said Gaunt Stilling, gravely. "There is always an excuse for breaking a lock, especially when there are Nonjurors and Dissenters about. Doors would open very fast, and with two or three hundred witnesses you would have two or three hundred accomplices. Ask Tom if his brother's a thief! No, no, my lady, take my advice; put every thing of value into small drawers which would not hold an infant, or they'll break in to see if there's a Dissenting minister. Consign all your plate to the plate-chests; and, when you come back, you may think yourself very lucky if you do not find the eyes of your grandfather bored with a pike, or the portrait of your mother shot through with a musket, just to see if there be not a concealed door behind the canvas. Feed them well, or they will feed themselves better; and disperse all the women of the household over the parish--that is to say, under eighty. The men must take care of themselves, and a hard time enough they will have of it--some heads broken, if not driven in, before you come back, I will warrant."
"You lay me out work for a long time, Master Stilling," answered Hortensia; "what is to be done, Ralph?"
"Take his advice, dear lady," replied Ralph Woodhall. "Let me aid you in your arrangements, at once and immediately. Then lie down and take a short repose, and let us set off before daylight to-morrow. We will see you safe to Wells, and I shall depart with a lighter heart."
Gaunt Stilling did not appear to be quite satisfied, but he made no observation; and various servants being called, Lady Danvers explained to Mr. Drayton that she was under the necessity of quitting her own dwelling, as she had received information from Lord Feversham that Danvers's New Church was about to be occupied as a military post by Colonel Kirke and the Tangier regiment.
"Odd bless my life! my dear lady, that's bad news indeed," cried the old man, rubbing his hands in an agony of perplexity; "why, it is the worst regiment in the whole service--nothing like it in all the civilized world--a mere band of licensed robbers and plunderers, especially their colonel--gracious! what shall we do with all the things that are about?"
"We must lock them up safely," said Lady Danvers; "and that was one reason of my sending for you, Mr. Drayton. We must all set to work as hard as possible; the carriage and horses must be round at the door before three. But I will not take more men with me than is needful. My maid Alice must go. The rest of the women you had better disperse among the farmhouses and in the neighboring villages till the storm has blown by; and you must take the best care of these men who are coming that you can."