"By-the-bye," continued Colonel Townley, looking at his watch. "I forgot to mention that I expect Sir Richard Rawcliffe, of Rawcliffe Hall, to-night. He will be here anon. 'Tis about the hour he named. You know him, I think?"
"I knew him slightly some years ago," replied Dr. Byrom. "But I dare say he has quite forgotten me. He rarely, if ever, comes to Manchester. Indeed, he leads a very secluded life at Rawcliffe, and, as I understand, keeps no company. He has the character of being morose and gloomy, but I daresay it is undeserved, for men are generally misrepresented."
"Sir Richard Rawcliffe is certainly misrepresented, if he is so described," said Colonel Townley. "He is haughty and reserved, but not moody. When I left for France he had only just succeeded to the title and the property, and I knew little of him then, though he was an intimate friend of my uncle, Richard Townley of Townley."
"He was not, I think, engaged in the insurrection of 1715?" remarked Dr. Deacon.
"Not directly," replied the colonel. "His father, Sir Randolph, who was friendly to the Hanoverian succession, was alive then, and he did not dare to offend him."
"I thought the Rawcliffes were a Roman Catholic family?" remarked Dr. Deacon.
"Sir Randolph abjured the faith of his fathers," said Colonel Townley; "and his elder son, Oswald, was likewise a renegade. Sir Richard, of whom we are now speaking, succeeded his brother Sir Oswald on the failure of the heir."
"It has never been positively proved that the heir is dead," observed Dr. Byrom. "Sir Oswald Rawcliffe married the beautiful Henrietta Conway, and had a son by her, who was carried off while an infant in a most mysterious manner, and has never been heard of since. This happened in '24, but I cannot help thinking the true heir to Rawcliffe Hall may yet be found."
"Meantime, Sir Richard is in possession of the title and property," said Colonel Townley.
As he spoke, the door was opened by the landlord, who ushered in a tall personage, whom he announced as Sir Richard Rawcliffe.
Bowing to the company, all of whom rose on his entrance, Sir Richard sprang forward to meet Colonel Townley, and a hearty greeting passed between them.
It would have been difficult to determine the new-comer's age, but he was not fifty, though he looked much older. His features were handsome, but strongly marked, and had a sombre expression, which, however, disappeared when he was animated by converse. His eyes were dark and penetrating, and overhung by thick black brows. His pallid complexion and care-worn looks seemed to denote that he was out of health. Altogether, it was a face that could not be regarded without interest. He wore a dark riding-dress, with boots drawn above the knee. A black peruke descended over his shoulders, and a sword hung by his side.
Habitually, Sir Richard Rawcliffe's manner was haughty, but he was extremely affable towards the present company, expressing himself delighted to meet Dr. Byrom again. Towards Dr. Deacon he was almost deferential.
While they were exchanging civilities, Diggles, the landlord, re-appeared with a fresh bottle of claret and clean glasses; and bumpers being filled, Colonel Townley called out, "Here's to our master's health!"
The toast having been drunk with enthusiasm, Diggles, preparatory to his departure, inquired whether the gentlemen desired to be private.
"No," replied Colonel Townley. "I will see myfriends. I don't think you will introduce a Hanoverian, Diggles."
"You may trust me, colonel," said the landlord. "No Whig shall enter here."
After another glass of wine, Colonel Townley said to the baronet—
"Now, Sir Richard, let us to business. I hope you bring us some recruits. We are terribly in want of them."
"I am surprised to hear that," replied Sir Richard; "and I regret that I cannot supply your need. All my tenants refuse to go out. 'Tis to explain this difficulty that I have come to Manchester. Money I can promise his royal highness, but not men."
"Well, money will be extremely useful to him. How much may I venture to tell him you will furnish?"
"A thousand pounds," replied Sir Richard. "I have brought it with me. Here 'tis," he added, giving him a pocket-book.
"By my faith, this is very handsome, Sir Richard, and I am sure the prince will be much beholden to you. I am about to join him at Lancaster, and I will place the money in the hands of his treasurer, Mr. Murray. If every Jacobite gentleman in Cheshire would contribute a like sum his royal highness would not lack funds."
Both Dr. Byrom and Dr. Deacon expressed their sense of the baronet's liberality.
"I am amazed by what you just stated about your want of recruits," said Sir Richard. "I understood that some thousands had been enrolled in Manchester."
Significant looks passed between the others, and Colonel Townley shrugged his shoulders.
"I am sorry to be obliged to undeceive you, Sir Richard," he said. "The enrolment has proceeded very badly."
"But you have the leading merchants with you. They are all pledged to the House of Stuart."
"They are indifferent to their pledges."
"Zounds!" exclaimed Sir Richard. "I was wholly unprepared for this. At all the Jacobite meetings I have attended, the boldest talkers were your Manchester merchants. How many campaigns have they fought over the bottle! But are there no young men in the town who will rally round the prince's standard?"
"Plenty, I am sure, Sir Richard," replied Dr. Deacon. "When the drum is beaten, numbers will answer to the call."
"Better they should enrol themselves beforehand, so that we might know on whom we can count. You have so much influence, Dr. Deacon, that you ought to be able to raise a regiment yourself. Your sons might lend you aid. They must have many friends."
"Theodore Deacon has already found me a fine young fellow, whom I should like to make an officer," observed Colonel Townley.
"Ah! who may that be?"
"You will be little the wiser when I mention his name, Sir Richard. 'Tis Atherton Legh."
"Atherton Legh. Is he of a Lancashire family?"
"I am unable to answer that question, Sir Richard. In fact, there is a mystery about him. But he is a gentleman born, I'm certain. You would say so yourself were you to see him. Ah! the opportunity offers—here he is."
As he spoke the door was opened, and the young man in question was ushered in by the landlord.
Atherton Legh had a fine, open, intelligent countenance, clear grey eyes, classically moulded features, a fresh complexion, and a tall graceful figure. His manner was frank and prepossessing. His habiliments were plain, but became him well, and in lieu of a peruke, he wore his own long, flowing, brown locks. His age might be about one-and-twenty.
Such was the tall, handsome young man who stood before the company, and it may be added that he displayed no embarrassment, though he felt that a scrutinising look was fixed upon him by the baronet.
"Was I not right, Sir Richard?" whispered Colonel Townley. "Has he not the air of a gentleman?"
The baronet assented; adding in an undertone, "Tell me, in a word, who and what he is?"
"I have already stated that a mystery attaches to his birth, and so carefully is the secret kept, that, although he has a guardian who supplies him with funds, he is not even acquainted with his guardian's name."
"Strange!" exclaimed the baronet.
"Shall I present him to you, Sir Richard?"
"By all means," was the reply.
Colonel Townley then went up to the young man, shook hands with him, and after a little talk, brought him to Sir Richard, who rose on his approach, and received him very graciously.
But though the baronet's manner was exceedingly courteous, Atherton felt unaccountably repelled. Sir Richard's features seemed familiar to him, but he could not call to mind where he had seen him.
"I hope you have come to signify to Colonel Townley your adhesion to the cause of King James the Third?" remarked Sir Richard.
"Yes, yes, he means to join us," cried Colonel Townley, hastily. "I am enchanted to see him. Say that you will belong to the Manchester Regiment, Mr. Atherton Legh—say the word before these gentlemen—and I engage that you shall have a commission."
"You are too good, sir," said the young man.
"Not at all," cried the colonel. "I could not do his royal highness a greater service than to bring him such a fine young fellow."
"I shall seem but ill to repay your kindness, colonel," said Atherton, "when I decline the honourable post you offer me. I would serve in the ranks were I a free agent. You are aware that I have a guardian, whom I feel bound to obey as a father. Since you spoke to me this morning I have received a letter from him, peremptorily forbidding me to join the prince. After this interdiction, which I dare not disobey, I am compelled to withdraw the half promise I gave you."
"Were I in Colonel Townley's place I should claim fulfilment of the promise," observed Sir Richard. "As a man of honour you cannot retract."
"Nay, I must say Mr. Atherton Legh did not absolutely pledge himself," said Colonel Townley; "and he is perfectly at liberty, therefore, to withdraw if he deems proper. But I hope he will reconsider his decision. I shall be truly sorry to lose him. What is your opinion of the matter, sir?" he added, appealing to Dr. Deacon. "Is Mr. Atherton Legh bound to obey his guardian's injunctions?"
"Assuredly not," replied the doctor, emphatically. "Duty to a sovereign is paramount to every other consideration. A guardian has no right to impose such restraint upon a ward. His authority does not extend so far."
"But he may have the power to stop his ward's allowance, if his authority be set at defiance," remarked Dr. Byrom. "Therefore, I think Mr. Atherton Legh is acting very prudently."
"My opinion is not asked, but I will venture to offer it," observed Sir Richard. "Were I in Mr. Atherton Legh's place, I would run the risk of offending my guardian, and join the prince."
"I am inclined to follow your counsel, Sir Richard," cried the young man.
"No, no—you shall not, my dear fellow," interposed Colonel Townley. "Much as I desire to have you with me, you shall not be incited to take a step you may hereafter repent. Weigh the matter over. When I return to Manchester you can decide. Something may happen in the interim."
Atherton bowed, and was about to retire, when Sir Richard stopped him.
"I should like to have a little talk to you, Mr. Atherton Legh," he said, "and shall be glad if you will call upon me to-morrow at noon. I am staying at this inn."
"I will do myself the honour of waiting upon you, Sir Richard," replied the young man.
"I ought to mention that my daughter is with me, and she is an ardent Jacobite," remarked Sir Richard.
"If I have Miss Rawcliffe's assistance, I foresee what will happen," remarked Colonel Townley, with a laugh. "Her arguments are sure to prove irresistible. I consider you already enrolled. Au revoir!"
Atherton Legh had quitted the inn, and was lingering in the market-place, not altogether satisfied with himself, when Dr. Byrom came forth and joined him.
"Our road lies in the same direction," said the doctor. "Shall we walk together?"
"By all means, sir," replied the young man.
It was a beautiful night, calm and clear, and the moon shone brightly on the tower of the collegiate church, in the vicinity of which Dr. Byrom resided.
"How peaceful the town looks to-night," observed Byrom. "But in a few days all will be tumult and confusion."
"I do not think any resistance will be offered to the insurgents, sir," replied Atherton; "and luckily the militia is disbanded, though I believe a few shots would have dispersed them had they attempted to show fight."
"No, there will be no serious fighting," said Byrom. "Manchester will surrender at discretion. I don't think the prince will remain here long. He will raise as many recruits as he can, and then march on. I have no right to give you advice, young sir, but I speak to you as I would to my own son. You have promised to call upon Sir Richard Rawcliffe to-morrow, and I suppose you will be as good as your word."
"Of course."
"Then take care you are not persuaded to disobey your guardian. There is a danger you do not apprehend, and I must guard you against it. Miss Rawcliffe is exceedingly beautiful, and very captivating—at least, so I have been informed, for I have never seen her. Her father has told you she is an ardent Jacobite. As such she will deem it her duty to win you over to the good cause, and she will infallibly succeed. Very few of us are proof against the fascinations of a young and lovely woman. Though Sir Richard might not prevail, his daughter will."
"I must go prepared to resist her," replied Atherton, laughing.
"You miscalculate your strength, young man," said Byrom, gravely. "Better not expose yourself to temptation."
"Nay, I must go," said Atherton. "But I should like to know something about Sir Richard Rawcliffe. Has he a son?"
"Only one child—a daughter. Besides being very beautiful, as I have just described her, Constance Rawcliffe will be a great heiress."
"And after saying all this, you expect me to throw away the chance of meeting so charming a person. But don't imagine I am presumptuous enough to aspire to a wealthy heiress. I shall come away heart-whole, and bound by no pledges stronger than those I have already given."
"We shall see," replied Dr. Byrom, in a tone that implied considerable doubt.
They had now arrived at the door of the doctor's residence—a tolerably large, comfortable-looking house, built of red brick, in the plain, formal style of the period.
Before parting with his young companion, Dr. Byrom thought it necessary to give him a few more words of counsel.
"It may appear impertinent in me to meddle in your affairs," he said; "but believe that I am influenced by the best feelings. You are peculiarly circumstanced. You have no father—no near relative to guide you. An error now may be irretrievable. Pray consult me before you make any pledge to Sir Richard Rawcliffe, or to Dr. Deacon."
There was so much paternal kindness in his manner that Atherton could not fail to be touched by it.
"I will consult you, sir," he said, in a grateful tone; "and I thank you deeply for the interest you take in me."
"Enough," replied Dr. Byrom. "I shall hope to see you soon again. Give me your impressions of Constance Rawcliffe."
He then bade the young man good-night, rang the door bell, and entered the house.
A path led across the south side of the large churchyard surrounding the collegiate church, and on quitting Dr. Byrom, Atherton took his way along it, marching past the old gravestones, and ever and anon glancing at the venerable pile, which, being completely lighted up by the moonbeams, presented a very striking appearance. So bright was the moonlight that the crocketed pinnacles and grotesque gargoyles could have been counted. The young man was filled with admiration of the picture. On reaching the western boundary of the churchyard, he paused to gaze at the massive tower, and having contemplated its beauties for a few minutes, he proceeded towards Salford Bridge.
It has already been stated that this was the oldest and most picturesque part of the town. All the habitations were of timber and plaster, painted black and white, and those immediately adjoining the collegiate church on the west were built on a precipitous rock overlooking the Irwell.
Wherever a view could be obtained of the river, through any opening among these ancient houses—many of which were detached—a very charming scene was presented to the beholder. The river here made a wide bend, and as it swept past the high rocky bank, and flowed on towards the narrow pointed arches of the old bridge, its course was followed with delight, glittering as it then did in the moonbeams.
The old bridge itself was a singular structure, and some of the old houses on the opposite side of the river vied in picturesque beauty with those near the church.
Atherton was enraptured with the scene. He had made his way to the very edge of the steep rocky bank, so that nothing interfered with the prospect.
Though the hour was by no means late—the old church clock had only just struck ten—the inhabitants of that quarter of the town seemed to have retired to rest. All was so tranquil that the rushing of the water through the arches of the bridge could be distinctly heard.
Soothed by the calmness which acted as a balm upon his somewhat over-excited feelings, the young man fell into a reverie, during which a very charming vision flitted before him.
The description given him of the lovely Constance Rawcliffe had powerfully affected his imagination. She seemed to be the ideal of feminine beauty which he had sought, but never found. He painted her even in brighter colours than she had been described by Dr. Byrom, and with all the romantic folly of a young man was prepared to fall madly in love with her—provided only she deigned to cast the slightest smile upon him.
Having conjured up this exquisite phantom, and invested it with charms that very likely had no existence, he was soon compelled to dismiss it, and return to actual life. It was time to go home, and good Widow Heywood, with whom he lodged, would wonder why he stopped out so late.
Heaving a sigh, with which such idle dreams as he had indulged generally end, he left the post of vantage he had occupied, and, with the design of proceeding to Deansgate, tracked a narrow alley that quickly brought him to Smithy Bank. The latter thoroughfare led to the bridge. Lower down, but not far from the point of junction with Deansgate, stood the old Town Cross.
Hitherto the young man had not seen a single individual in the streets since he left the Bull's Head, and it therefore rather surprised him to perceive a small group of persons standing near the Cross, to which allusion has just been made.
Two damsels, evidently from their attire of the higher rank, attended by a young gentleman and a man-servant—the latter being stationed at a respectful distance from the others—were talking to a well-mounted horseman, in whom Atherton had no difficulty in recognising Colonel Townley. No doubt the colonel had started on his journey to Lancaster. With him was a groom, who, like his master, was well mounted and well armed.
Even at that distance, Atherton remarked that Colonel Townley's manner was extremely deferential to the young ladies—especially towards the one with whom he was conversing. He bent low in the saddle, and appeared to be listening with deep interest and attention to what she said. Both this damsel and her fair companion were so muffled up that Atherton could not discern their features, but he persuaded himself they must be good-looking. A fine shape cannot easily be disguised, and both had symmetrical figures, while the sound of their voices was musical and pleasant.
Atherton was slowly passing on his way, which brought him somewhat nearer the group, when Colonel Townley caught sight of him, and immediately hailed him.
By no means sorry to have a nearer view of the mysterious fair ones, the young man readily responded to the summons, but if he expected an introduction to the damsels he was disappointed.
Before he came up, it was evident that the colonel had been told that this was not to be, and he carefully obeyed orders.
The young lady who had especially attracted Atherton's attention proved to be very handsome, for, though he could not obtain a full view of her face, he saw enough to satisfy him she had delicately formed features, magnificent black eyes, and black tresses.
These splendid black eyes were steadily fixed upon him for a few moments, as if she was reading his character; and after the rapid inspection, she turned to Colonel Townley, and made some remark to him in a whisper.
Without tarrying any longer, she then signed to her companions, and they all three moved off, followed by the manservant, leaving Atherton quite bewildered. The party walked so rapidly that they were almost instantly out of sight.
"If it is not impertinent on my part, may I ask who those young ladies are?" inquired Atherton.
"I am not allowed to tell you, my dear fellow," replied the colonel, slightly laughing. "But I dare say you will meet them again."
"I must not even ask if they live in Manchester, I suppose?"
"I cannot satisfy your curiosity in any particular. I meant to present you to them, but I was forbidden. I may, however, tell you that the young lady nearest me made a flattering observation respecting you."
"That is something, from so charming a girl."
"Then you discovered that she is beautiful!"
"I never beheld such fine eyes."
Colonel Townley laughed heartily.
"Take care of yourself, my dear boy—take care of yourself," he said. "Those eyes have already done wonderful execution."
"One question more, colonel, and I have done. Are they sisters?"
"Well, I may answer that. They are not. I thought you must have known the young man who was with them."
"I fancied he was Jemmy Dawson. But I own I did not pay much attention to him."
"You were engrossed by one object. It was Jemmy Dawson. He is to be one of my officers, and I feel very proud of him, as I shall be of another gallant youth whom I count upon. But I must loiter no longer here. I shall ride to Preston to-night, and proceed to-morrow to Lancaster. Fail not to keep your appointment with Sir Richard Rawcliffe. You will see his daughter, who will put this fair unknown out of your head."
"I scarcely think so," replied Atherton.
"Well, I shall learn all about it on my return. Adieu!"
With this, the colonel struck spurs into his horse and rode quickly across the bridge, followed by his groom, while Atherton, whose thoughts had been entirely changed within the last ten minutes, proceeded towards his lodgings in Deansgate.
Next morning, in the drawing-room of a comfortable house, situated near the collegiate church, and commanding from its windows a view of that venerable fabric, a family party, consisting of four persons—two ladies and two gentlemen—had assembled after breakfast.
Elegantly furnished in the taste of the time, the room was fitted up with japanned cabinets and numerous small brackets, on which china ware and other ornaments were placed. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and a large folding Indian screen was partly drawn round the work-table, beside which the two ladies sat. The gentlemen were standing near the fireplace.
The mistress of the house, though no longer young, as will be guessed when we mention that her daughter was turned twenty-one, while her son was some two or three years older, still retained considerable personal attractions, and had a most agreeable expression of countenance.
We may as well state at once, that this lady, who had made the best helpmate possible to the best of husbands, was the wife of our worthy friend Dr. Byrom, who had every reason to congratulate himself, as he constantly did, on the possession of such a treasure.
Very pretty, and very lively, was the younger lady—Elizabeth Byrom—Beppy as she was familiarly called. We despair of giving an idea of her features, but her eyes were bright and blue, her complexion like a damask rose, her nose slightly retroussé, and her teeth like pearls. When she laughed, her cheek displayed the prettiest dimple imaginable. Her light-brown locks were taken from the brow, and raised to a considerable height, but there were no artificial tresses among them.
Her costume suited her extremely well—her gown being of grey silk, looped round the body; and she wore a hoop petticoat—as every other girl did at the time who had any pretension to fashion.
Beppy was not a coquette—far from it—but she tried to please; nor was she vain of her figure, yet she liked to dress becomingly. Accomplished she was, undoubtedly; sang well, and played on the spinet; but she was useful as well as ornamental, and did a great many things in the house, which no girl of our own period would condescend to undertake.
With much gaiety of manner, a keen sense of the ridiculous, and a turn for satire, Beppy never said an ill-natured thing. In short, she was a very charming girl, and the wonder was, with so many agreeable qualities, that she should have remained single.
Our description would be incomplete if we omitted to state that she was an ardent Jacobite.
Her brother, Edward, resembled his father, and was gentleman-like in appearance and manner. He wore a suit of light blue, with silver buttons, and a flaxen-coloured peruke, which gave him a gay look, but in reality he was very sedate. There was nothing of the coxcomb about Edward Byrom. Nor was he of an enthusiastic temperament. Like all the members of his family, he was well inclined towards the House of Stuart, but he was not disposed to make any sacrifice, or incur any personal risk for its restoration to the throne. Edward Byrom was tall, well-made, and passably good-looking.
Mrs. Byrom was dressed in green flowered silk, which suited her: wore powder in her hair, which also suited her, and a hoop petticoat, but we will not say whether the latter suited her or not. Her husband thought it did, and he was the best judge.
"Well, papa," cried Beppy, looking up at him from her work, "what do you mean to do to-day?"
"I have a good deal to do," replied Dr. Byrom. "In the first place I shall pay a visit to Tom Syddall, the barber."
"I like Tom Syddall because he is a Jacobite, and because his father suffered for the good cause," said Beppy. "Though a barber is the least heroic of mortals, Tom Syddall always appears to me a sort of hero, with a pair of scissors and a powder-puff for weapons."
"He has thrown dust in your eyes, Beppy," said the doctor.
"He has vowed to avenge his father. Is not that creditable to him, papa?"
"Yes, he is a brave fellow, no doubt. I only hope he mayn't share his father's fate. I shall endeavour to persuade him to keep quiet."
"Is it quite certain the prince will come to Manchester?" asked Mrs. Byrom, anxiously.
"He will be here in two or three days at the latest with his army. But don't alarm yourself, my love."
"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed. "I think we had better leave the town."
"You are needlessly afraid, mamma," cried Beppy. "I am not frightened in the least. It may be prudent in some people to get out of the way; but depend upon itweshan't be molested. Papa's opinions are too well known. I wouldn't for the world miss seeing the prince. I dare say we shall all be presented to him."
"You talk of the prince as if he had already arrived, Beppy," observed Edward Byrom, gravely. "After all, he may never reach Manchester."
"You hope he won't come," cried his sister. "You are a Hanoverian, Teddy, and don't belong to us."
"'Tis because I wish the prince well that I hope he mayn't come," said Teddy. "The wisest thing he could do would be to retreat."
"I disown you, sir," cried the young lady. "The prince will never retreat, unless compelled, and success has hitherto attended him."
"Are you aware that the townspeople of Liverpool have raised a regiment seven hundred strong?"
"For the prince?"
"For King George. Chester, also, has been put into a state of defence against the insurgents, though there are many Roman Catholic families in the city."
"I won't be discouraged," said Beppy. "I am certain the right will triumph. What do you think, papa?"
Dr. Byrom made no response to this appeal.
"Your papa has great misgivings, my dear," observed Mrs. Byrom; "and so have I. I should most heartily rejoice if the danger that threatens us could be averted. Rebellion is a dreadful thing. We must take no part in this contest. How miserable I should have been if your brother had joined the insurgents!"
"Happily, Teddy has more discretion," said Dr. Byrom, casting an approving look at his son. "Some of our friends, I fear, will rue the consequences of their folly. Jemmy Dawson has joined the Manchester Regiment, and of course Dr. Deacon's three sons are to be enrolled in it."
"Were I a man I would join likewise," cried Beppy.
"My dear!" exclaimed her mother, half reproachfully.
"Forgive me if I have hurt your feelings, dearest mamma," said Beppy, getting up and kissing her. "You know I would do nothing to displease you."
"Jemmy Dawson will incur his father's anger by the step he has taken," remarked Edward Byrom. "But powerful influence has been brought to bear upon him. A young lady, quite as enthusiastic a Jacobite as you are, Beppy, to whom he is attached, has done the mischief."
"Indeed! I should like to know who she is?" said his sister.
"Nay, you must not question me. You will learn the secret in due time, I make no doubt."
"I have guessed it already," said Beppy. "'Tis Monica Butler. I have seen Jemmy with her. She is just the girl who could induce him to join the insurrection, for she is heart and soul in the cause."
"You are right. Monica Butler is Jemmy's fair enslaver. His assent was to be the price of her hand. I believe they are affianced."
"I hope the engagement will end well, but it does not commence auspiciously," said Dr. Byrom. "Their creeds are different. Monica is a Roman Catholic—at least, I conclude so, since her mother belongs to that religion."
"Mrs. Butler is a widow, I believe?" remarked Mrs. Byrom.
"She is widow of Captain Butler, and sister of Sir Richard Rawcliffe. Consequently, Monica is cousin to the beautiful Constance Rawcliffe. Though so well connected, Mrs. Butler is far from rich, and lives in great privacy, as you know, in Salford. She is very proud of her ancient descent, and I almost wonder she consented to Monica's engagement to young Dawson. By-the-bye, Sir Richard Rawcliffe and his daughter are now in Manchester, and are staying at the Bull's Head. I met Sir Richard last night. He is very anxious to obtain recruits for the prince, and tried hard to enlist Atherton Legh. The young man resisted, but he will have to go through a different ordeal to-day, for he will be exposed to the fascinations of the fair Constance. I shall be curious to learn the result."
"So shall I," said Beppy, with some vivacity.
"Do you take any interest in the young man?" asked her father.
"I think him very handsome," she replied, blushing. "And I think he would be a very great acquisition to the prince. But it would certainly be a pity——"
"That so handsome a young fellow should be executed as a rebel," supplied the father. "I quite agree with you, Beppy, and I therefore hope he will remain firm."
Just then a female servant ushered in two young divines, both of them assistant curates of St. Ann's—the Rev. Thomas Lewthwaite and the Rev. Benjamin Nichols. Mr. Hoole, the rector of St. Ann's, was inclined to Nonjuring principles, which he had imbibed from Dr. Deacon, and was very popular with the High Church party, but his curates were Whigs, and belonged to the Low Church, and had both preached against rebellion. Mr. Lewthwaite was a suitor to Beppy, but she did not give him much encouragement, and, indeed, rather laughed at him.
Both the reverend gentlemen looked rather grave, and gave a description of the state of the town that brought back all Mrs. Byrom's alarms.
"An express has just come in," said Mr. Lewthwaite, "bringing word that the rebels have reached Lancaster, and that Marshal Wade has turned back to Newcastle. The rebel force is estimated at seven thousand men, but other accounts affirm that it now amounts to thirty thousand and upwards."
"I hope the latter accounts are correct," observed Beppy.
"We shall certainly have the Pretender here in a couple of days," pursued the curate.
"Pray don't call him the Pretender, sir," cried Beppy. "Speak of him with proper respect as Prince Charles Edward."
"I can't do that," said Mr. Lewthwaite, "being a loyal subject of King George."
"Whom some people regard as a usurper," muttered Beppy.
"The news has thrown the whole town into consternation," said Mr. Nichols. "Everybody is preparing for flight. Almost all the warehouses are closed. Half the shops are shut, and as Mr. Lewthwaite and myself passed through the square just now, we didn't see half a dozen persons. Before night the place will be empty.
"Well, we shan't go," said Beppy.
"The Earl of Warrington has sent away all his plate," pursued Mr. Nichols.
"I have very little plate to send away," observed Dr. Byrom. "Besides, I am not afraid of being plundered."
"You may not feel quite so secure, sir, when I tell you that the magistrates have thrown open the doors of the House of Correction," said Mr. Nichols.
"Very considerate of them, indeed," said Dr. Byrom. "The townspeople will appreciate their attention. Have you any more agreeable intelligence?"
"Yes; the postmaster has started for London this morning to stop any further remittances from the bankers, lest the money should fall into the hands of the rebels."
"That looks as if the authorities were becoming really alarmed," observed Edward Byrom.
"They are rather late in bestirring themselves," said Mr. Nichols. "The boroughreeve and constables have learnt that a good deal of unlawful recruiting for the Pretender has been going on under their very noses, and are determined to put an end to it. Colonel Townley would have been arrested last night if he had not saved himself by a hasty departure. But I understand that an important arrest will be made this morning."
"An arrest!—of whom?" inquired Dr. Byrom, uneasily.
"I can't tell you precisely, sir," replied Mr. Nichols. "But the person is a Jacobite gentleman of some consequence, who has only just arrived in Manchester."
"It must be Sir Richard Rawcliffe," mentally ejaculated Dr. Byrom. "I must warn him of his danger without delay. Excuse me, gentlemen," he said, "I have just recollected an appointment. I fear I shall be rather late."
And he was hurrying out of the room, but before he could reach the door, it was opened by the servant, and Atherton Legh came in.
Under the circumstances the interruption was vexatious, but quickly recovering from the confusion into which he was thrown, the doctor exclaimed, "You are the person I wanted to see."
Seizing the young man's arm, he led him to a small adjoining room that served as a study.
"You will think my conduct strange," he said, "but there is no time for explanation. Will you take a message from me to Sir Richard Rawcliffe?"
"Willingly," replied Atherton, "I was going to him after I had said a few words to you."
"Our conference must be postponed," said the doctor.
He then sat down and tracing a few hasty lines on a sheet of paper, directed and sealed the note, and gave it to Atherton.
"Take this to Sir Richard, without loss of time," he said. "You will render him an important service."
"I shall be very glad to serve him," replied the young man. "But may I not know the nature of my mission?"
"Be satisfied that it is important," said the doctor. "I shall see you again later on. Perhaps Sir Richard may have a message to send to me."
Dr. Byrom then conducted the young man to the hall-door, and let him out himself; after which he returned to the study, not caring to go back to the drawing-room.
Great was Beppy's disappointment that Atherton was carried off so suddenly by her father; but she had some suspicion of the truth. As to the two curates, they thought the doctor's conduct rather singular, but forebore to make any remarks.
On quitting Dr. Byrom's house, Atherton proceeded quickly along Old Mill Gate towards the market-place.
This street, one of the oldest and busiest in the town, presented a very unwonted appearance—several of the shops being shut, while carts half-filled with goods were standing at the doors, showing that the owners were removing their property.
Very little business seemed to be going on, and there were some symptoms of a disturbance, for a band of rough-looking fellows, armed with bludgeons, was marching along the street, and pushing decent people from the narrow footway.
In the market-place several groups were collected, eagerly discussing the news; and at the doors of the Exchange, then newly erected, a few merchants were assembled, but they all had an anxious look, and did not seem to be engaged on business.
Except the Exchange, to which we have just adverted, there was not a modern building near the market-place. All the habitations were old, and constructed of timber and plaster. In the midst of these, on the left, stood the Bull's Head. The old inn ran back to a considerable distance, and possessed a court-yard large enough to hold three or four post-chaises and an occasional stage-coach.
Entering the court-yard, Atherton sought out Diggles, the landlord, and inquired for Sir Richard Rawcliffe, but, to his great disappointment, learnt that the baronet had just gone out.
"That is unlucky," cried the young man. "I have an important communication for him."
"He will be back presently," said the landlord. "But perhaps Miss Rawcliffe will see you. She is within. Her cousin, Miss Butler, is with her."
Atherton assented to this proposition, and was conducted by the host to a room on the first floor, and evidently situated in the front part of the house.
Tapping at the door Diggles went in, and almost immediately returned to say that Miss Rawcliffe would be happy to receive Mr. Atherton Legh.
Atherton was then ushered into the presence of two young ladies—one of whom rose on his appearance and received him very courteously.
Could he believe his eyes? Yes! it must be the fair creature he had seen on the previous night, who had made such a powerful impression upon him. But if he had thought her beautiful then, how much more exquisite did she appear now that her charming features could be fully distinguished.
While bowing to the other young lady, whose name he had learnt from the landlord, he felt equally sure that she had been Miss Rawcliffe's companion on the previous night.
Monica Butler offered a strong contrast to her cousin—the one being a brunette and the other a blonde. But each was charming in her way—each set off the other. Constance's eyes were dark as night, and her tresses of corresponding hue; while Monica's eyes were tender and blue as a summer sky, and her locks fleecy as a summer cloud.
"I see you recognise us, Mr. Atherton Legh," said Miss Rawcliffe, smiling. "It would be useless, therefore, to attempt any disguise. My cousin, Monica Butler, and myself were talking to Colonel Townley when you came up last night. He would fain have presented you to us, but I would not allow him, for I did not think it quite proper that an introduction should take place under such peculiar circumstances. As you may naturally wonder why two young damsels should be abroad so late, I will explain. Wishing to have Monica's company during my stay at this inn, I went to fetch her, escorted by your friend Jemmy Dawson. As we were coming back, we accidentally encountered Colonel Townley near the Cross. All the rest you know."
"I am very agreeably surprised," said Atherton. "I have been dying to know who you both were, for Colonel Townley refused to gratify my curiosity."
"I am glad to find he obeyed my orders," observed Miss Rawcliffe, smiling. "At that time I did not imagine I should ever see you again. But this morning papa told me he had made an appointment with you at noon. I ought to apologise for his absence—but you are rather before your time."
"'Tis I who ought to apologise," said Atherton. "But I am the bearer of a note to Sir Richard," he added, handing it to her. "'Tis from Dr. Byrom, and I believe it contains matter of urgent importance. At all events, Dr. Byrom requested me to deliver it without delay."
"I hope it contains good news," said Constance. "Pray take a seat. You must please to await papa's return. He much wishes to see you; and I may tell you he hopes to induce you to join the prince's army. We are all ardent Jacobites, as you know, and anxious to obtain recruits. If I had any influence with you I would urge you to enrol yourself in Colonel Townley's regiment. Jemmy Dawson has just joined. Why not follow his example?"
"I have already explained to Colonel Townley why it is impossible for me to comply with his request."
"Your reasons have been mentioned to me, but I confess I do not see their force. Jemmy Dawson has not been swayed by such feelings, but has risked his father's displeasure to serve the prince. He did not hesitate when told that a young lady's hand would be the reward of his compliance with her request."
"Till this moment I did not know why Jemmy had joined, having heard him express indifference to the cause. May I venture to ask the name of the fair temptress?"
"Excuse me. You will learn the secret in due time."
"He shall learn it now," interposed Monica. "I do not blush to own that I am the temptress. I am proud of my Jemmy's devotion—proud, also, of having gained the prince so important a recruit."
"You may well be proud of Jemmy, Monica," said Constance. "He has many noble qualities and cannot fail to distinguish himself."
"He is as brave as he is gentle," said Monica—"a veritable preux et hardi chevalier, and will live or die like a hero."
"You are an enthusiastic girl," said Constance.
"In my place you would be just as enthusiastic, Constance," rejoined the other.
Atherton listened with a beating heart to this discourse, which was well calculated to stir his feelings.
Just then, however, an interruption was offered by the entrance of Sir Richard Rawcliffe.
"Very glad to see you, sir," cried the baronet, shaking hands with Atherton. "I perceive you have already made the acquaintance of my daughter and her cousin, Miss Butler, so I needn't introduce you. Are you aware that my niece is engaged to your friend, Jemmy Dawson?"
"Yes, Mr. Atherton Legh knows all about it, papa," said Constance. "He has brought you a letter from Dr. Byrom," she added, giving it to him.
"Excuse me," said Sir Richard, opening the note.
As he hastily scanned its contents, his countenance fell.
"Has something gone wrong, papa?" cried Constance, uneasily.
"I am threatened with arrest for treasonable practices," replied Sir Richard. "Dr. Byrom counsels immediate flight, or concealment. But where am I to fly?—where conceal myself?" he added, looking quite bewildered.
"You had better leave the inn at once, papa," said Constance, who, though greatly alarmed, had not lost her presence of mind.
At this moment, a noise was heard outside that increased the uneasiness of the party.
Situated in the front of the house, the room commanded the market-place. Atherton rushed to the window to ascertain what was taking place, and was followed by the baronet.
"Do not show yourself, Sir Richard," cried the young man, motioning him to keep back. "The chief magistrates are outside—Mr. Fielden, the boroughreeve, and Mr. Walley and Mr. Fowden, the constables. They have a posse of peace-officers with them."
"They are come to arrest me!" exclaimed Sir Richard.
"Save yourself, papa!—save yourself!" cried Constance. "Not a moment is to be lost."
Her exhortations were seconded by Monica and Atherton, but Sir Richard did not move, and looked quite stupefied.
"'Tis too late!" cried Atherton. "I hear them on the stairs."
As he spoke the door burst open, and Diggles rushed in—his looks betokening great alarm.
"The magistrates are here, Sir Richard, and their purpose is to arrest you. Flight is impossible. Every exit from the house is guarded. I could not warn you before."
"If you have any letters or papers that might compromise you, papa, give them to me," said Constance.
Sir Richard hesitated for a moment, and then produced a packet, saying, as he gave it to her, "I confide this to you. Take every care of it."
She had just concealed the packet when the magistrates entered the room. The officers who followed them stationed themselves outside the door.
Mr. John Fielden, the boroughreeve, who preceded the two constables, was a man of very gentleman-like appearance and deportment. After saluting the baronet, who advanced a few steps to meet him, he said, in accents that were not devoid of sympathy—
"I have a very unpleasant duty to discharge, Sir Richard, but I must fulfil it. In the king's name I arrest you for treasonable practices."
"Of what treasonable practices am I accused, sir?" demanded the baronet, who had now gained his composure.
"You are charged with wickedly and traitorously conspiring to change and subvert the rule and government of this kingdom; with seeking to depose our sovereign lord the king of his title, honour, and royal state; and with seeking to raise and exalt the person pretending to be, and taking upon himself the style and title of King of England, by the name of James the Third, to the imperial rule and government of this kingdom."
"What more, sir?" said Sir Richard.
"You are charged with falsely and traitorously inciting certain of his Majesty's faithful subjects to rebellion; and with striving to raise recruits for the son of the Popish Pretender to the throne, who is now waging war against his Majesty King George the Second."
"I deny the charges," rejoined the baronet, sternly.
"I trust you can disprove them, Sir Richard," said the boroughreeve. "To-morrow your examination will take place, and, in the meantime, you will be lodged in the Old Bailey."
"Lodged in a prison!" exclaimed Constance, indignantly.
"It must be," said the boroughreeve. "I have no option. But I promise you Sir Richard shall undergo no hardship. His imprisonment, I hope, may be brief."
"I thank you for your consideration, sir," said the baronet. "May I be allowed a few minutes to prepare?"
"I am sorry I cannot grant the request, Sir Richard."
"Then farewell, my dear child!—farewell, Monica!" cried the baronet, tenderly embracing them. "My captivity will not be long," he added, in a low voice to his daughter. "I shall be set at liberty on the prince's arrival—if not before."
Constance maintained a show of firmness which she did not feel, but Monica was much moved, and could not repress her tears.
After bidding adieu to Atherton, Sir Richard signified to the boroughreeve that he was ready to attend him, and passed out.
As he did so, the officers took charge of him, and the door was shut.
Constance's courage then entirely forsook her, and uttering a cry, she sank into a chair. Monica strove to comfort her—but in vain.
"I shall go distracted," she cried. "I cannot bear the thought that papa should be imprisoned."
"Make yourself easy on that score, Miss Rawcliffe," said Atherton. "Imprisoned he shall not be. I will undertake to rescue him."
"You!" she exclaimed, gazing at him through her streaming eyes. "If you could save him this indignity, I should be for ever beholden to you. But no!—you must not attempt it. The risk is too great."
"I care not for the risk," cried Atherton. "I will do it. You shall soon learn that your father is free."
And he rushed out of the room.
"A brave young man," cried Monica. "He has all my Jemmy's spirit. I feel sure he will accomplish what he has undertaken."
"I hope no harm will befall him," said Constance.
Shortly afterwards a great disturbance was heard in the market-place, and flying to the windows, they witnessed a very exciting scene.
The visit of the boroughreeve and constables to the Bull's Head attracted a considerable crowd to the market-place—it being rumoured that the magistrates were about to arrest an important Jacobite gentleman.
A political arrest at this juncture, when the town was in such an inflamed state, seemed to most persons, whatever their opinions might be, an exceedingly ill-advised step, and the magistrates were much blamed for taking it.
Murmurs were heard, and some manifestations of sympathy with the luckless Jacobite would undoubtedly have been made by the assemblage had they not been kept in awe by the strong body of constables drawn up in front of the inn.
As might be expected, the lower orders predominated in the concourse, but there were some persons of a superior class present, who had been brought thither by curiosity. The crowd momently increased, until the market-place, which was not very spacious, was more than half full, while the disposition to tumult became more apparent as the numbers grew.
At length a large old-fashioned coach was seen to issue from the entrance of the court-yard, and it was at once conjectured that the prisoner was inside the vehicle, from the fact that a constable was seated on the box beside the coachman, while half a dozen officers marched in front, to clear a passage through the throng.
But this could not be accomplished without the liberal use of staves, and the progress of the coach was necessarily slow. Groans, hootings, and angry exclamations arose from the crowd, but these were directed against the constables and not at the prisoner, who could be seen through the windows of the coach. Sir Richard was recognised by some of the nearest spectators, and his name being called out to those further off, it speedily became known to the whole assemblage, and the noise increased.
At this moment Atherton Legh rushed from the door of the inn and shouted in a loud voice, "A rescue!—a rescue!"
The cry thus raised was echoed by a hundred voices, and in another minute all was confusion.
"A rescue!—a rescue!" resounded on all sides. The coachman tried to extricate himself from the throng, but the heads of the horses being seized, he could not move on.
The constables endeavoured to get near the coach, as well to guard the prisoner as to protect the magistrates, who were inside the roomy vehicle with him.
But Atherton, who was remarkably athletic, snatched a truncheon from one of them, and laying about him vigorously with this weapon, and being supported by the crowd, soon forced his way to the door, and was about to pull it open, when the boroughreeve thrust his head through the window, and called out to him to forbear.
"Beware how you violate the law, young man," cried Mr. Fielden, in a firm and authoritative voice, that showed he was not daunted. "You must be aware that in constituting yourself the leader of a riotous mob, and attempting to rescue a prisoner, you are committing a very grave offence. Desist, while there is yet time. You are known to me and my brother magistrates."
"We do not intend you any personal injury, Mr. Fielden—nor do we mean to injure your brother magistrates," rejoined Atherton, resolutely. "But we are determined to liberate Sir Richard Rawcliffe. Set him free, and there will be an end to the disturbance. You must plainly perceive, sir, that resistance would be useless."
While this was going on, the band of desperadoes, already alluded to, had hurried back to the market-place, and now came up flourishing their bludgeons, and shouting, "Down with the Presbyterians!" "Down with the Hanoverians!" And some of them even went so far as to add "Down with King George!"
These shouts were echoed by the greater part of the concourse, which had now become very turbulent and excited.
Mr. Fielden called to the constables to keep back the mob, and move on, but the officers were utterly powerless to obey him. If a riot commenced, there was no saying where it would end; so, addressing a final remonstrance to Atherton, which proved as ineffectual as all he had said before, the boroughreeve withdrew from the window.
Atherton then opened the coach door, and told Sir Richard, who had been anxiously watching the course of events, that he was free.
On this the baronet arose, and bade a polite adieu to the magistrates, who made no attempt to prevent his departure.
As Sir Richard came forth and stood for a short space on the step of the carriage, so that he could be seen by all the assemblage, a deafening and triumphant shout arose.
"I thank you, my good friends, for delivering me," vociferated the baronet. "I have been illegally arrested. I am guilty of no crime. God bless the king!"
"Which king?" cried several voices, amid loud laughter and applause.
"Choose for yourselves!" responded Sir Richard. "You have rendered me a great service; but if you would serve me still more, and also serve the good cause which I represent, you will retire quietly. Bide your time. 'Twill soon come."
This short harangue was greeted by a loud cheer, amid which the baronet descended, and shook hands heartily with Atherton, who was standing near him.
"I owe my deliverance to you," he said; "and be sure I shall ever feel grateful."
Just then a rush was made towards them by the constables, who were, however, kept back by the crowd.
"Meddle not with us, and we won't meddle with you," cried Atherton.
Prudently acting upon the advice, the constables kept quiet.
Every facility for escape was afforded Sir Richard by the concourse. A narrow lane was opened for him, through which he passed, accompanied by Atherton.
Without pausing to consider whither they were going, they hurried on, till they reached Smithy Doer—a narrow street, so designated, and leading from the bottom of the market-place, in the direction of Salford Bridge.
Feeling secure, they then stopped to hold a brief consultation.
"It won't do for me to return to the inn," observed Sir Richard. "Nor is it necessary I should return thither. My daughter and her cousin are in no danger, and I shall easily find some means of communicating with them. They will know I am safe."
"Were I able to do so, I would gladly take a message from you to Miss Rawcliffe, Sir Richard," said Atherton. "But I am now in as much danger as yourself. I am known to the magistrates, and they will certainly send the officers in search of me."
"You shall run no more risk on my account," said Sir Richard. "My daughter is so courageous that she will feel no alarm when she learns I have escaped. You must find a hiding-place till the prince arrives in Manchester, and then all will be right. If I could procure a horse, I would ride on to Preston. I have a couple of hunters in the stables at the Bull's Head, but they are useless to me now."
As he spoke, a young man was seen approaching them, mounted on a strong roadster. Both recognised the horseman, who was no other than Jemmy Dawson, of whom mention has already been made.
A very handsome young fellow was Jemmy Dawson—tall, rather slightly built, but extremely well made, and looking to advantage in the saddle.
On this occasion Jemmy wore a green cloth riding-dress, made in the fashion of the time, with immense cuffs and ample skirts; the coat being laced with silver, and having silver buttons. His cocked hat surmounted a light bob peruke. He had a sword by his side, and carried a riding-whip in his hand.
On descrying Sir Richard, he instantly accelerated his pace, and no sooner learnt how the baronet was circumstanced than he jumped down, and offered him his horse.
Sir Richard unhesitatingly sprang into the saddle which the other had just quitted.
"Here is the whip," said Jemmy, handing it to him. "But the horse needs neither whip nor spur, as you will find, Sir Richard. He will soon take you to Preston."
"I hope to bring him back safe and sound, Jemmy," said the baronet. "But if aught happens, you shall have my favourite hunter in exchange. As soon as the crowd in the market-place has dispersed, go to the Bull's Head, and let the girls know how well you have mounted me, and whither I am gone."
Addressing a few parting words to Atherton, he then dashed off, clattering over the stones as he shaped his course towards Salford Bridge.
"I envy you your good fortune, Atherton," said Jemmy, as they were left together. "The part you have played belonged of right to me, but I should not have performed it half so well. I wish you could go back with me to receive Constance Rawcliffe's thanks for the service you have rendered her father; but that must not be. Where shall I find you?"
"I know not, for I cannot return to my lodgings. You will hear of me at Tom Syddall's. He will help me to a hiding-place."
"Ay, that he will. Our Jacobite barber is the trustiest fellow in Manchester. You will be perfectly safe with him. But take care how you enter his shop. 'Tis not unlikely you may be watched. We must not have another arrest."
They then separated—Atherton proceeding quickly towards the bridge, not far from which the barber's shop was situated, while Jemmy Dawson mingled with the crowd in the market-place. The magistrates were gone, but the constables blocked up the approaches to the Bull's Head. However, they readily allowed him to enter the inn.