The town now presented a most extraordinary appearance, and looked as if occupied by a hostile army—the streets being filled with Highland soldiers, who were wandering about, staring at the houses and shops, and besieging the taverns.
The townspeople seemed on very good terms with their visitors, and the occupants of the houses at which the soldiers were billeted received them as well as could be expected.
By this time all the principal personages connected with the Highland army had taken possession of the quarters assigned them, and sentries were placed at the doorways or at the gates.
Large bonfires were lighted in various parts of the town—in the market-place, in Spring Fields, on Shude Hill, on Hunt's Bank, and at the foot of the bridge, and preparations were made for a general illumination at night.
Nothing was neglected by the magistrates. In obedience to the injunctions they had received from Mr. Murray, they attended at the Town Cross to assist at the proclamation of his Majesty King James the Third. A large concourse assembled to witness the ceremony, and shouted lustily at its conclusion.
As yet, no disturbance whatever had occurred—for the Whigs and Presbyterians consulted their own safety by remaining quiet, well knowing if they made a demonstration they would be quickly overpowered. Consequently, the town continued tranquil.
As soon as it became dusk, the illuminations commenced. They were general, for no one dared to disobey the order, and the obnoxious Whigs and Presbyterians burnt more candles than their Jacobite neighbours. But the display did not save their windows. A large mob armed with bludgeons went about the town shouting, "Long live King James the Third, and Charles, Prince Regent!" and when they came to a house the owner of which was offensive to them, a great smashing of glass took place.
No efforts were made to check these lawless proceedings. Every license was allowed the mob, so long as they confined their playful attentions to the opposite party. For the sufferers there was no redress, since the streets swarmed with Highland soldiers who enjoyed the sport.
Additional excitement was given by the pipers, who marched about playing loudly upon their shrill instruments. What with the bonfires, the illuminations, the uproarious crowd, the Highlanders, and the pipers, the ordinary aspect of the town seemed entirely changed.
The spectacle was so novel and curious, that many of the gentler sex came forth to witness it, and it must be said, to the credit of the crowd, that the ladies experienced no sort of annoyance.
Luckily the night was fine, though sufficiently dark to give full effect to the illuminations.
Beppy and her father, accompanied by Atherton, walked about for nearly two hours, and Miss Byrom declared it was the prettiest sight she ever beheld. She had seen an illumination before, but never on so grand a scale, while the strange accompaniments greatly amused her.
Oddly enough, the illuminations in the old parts of the town were more effective than in the modern streets. With their lattice windows lighted up, the ancient habitations looked exceedingly picturesque.
But by far the most striking object in the town was the collegiate church. Partly buried in gloom—partly revealed by the bonfires kindled in its vicinity, the flames of which were reflected upon its massive tower, battlements, and buttresses—the venerable pile was seen to the greatest advantage. Very few, however, except the persons we have mentioned, cared to gaze at it. Those who crossed the churchyard made the best of their way to the streets, to see the illuminations and mingle with the crowd.
After bidding good-night to his friends, Atherton repaired to the only house in Manchester which was not illuminated.
But though the prince's residence was not lighted up, abundant evidence was furnished that a grand entertainment was about to take place inside it. The Highland guard was drawn up in two lines, extending from the gate to the doorway, and through this avenue all the nobles, chiefs of clans, and officers who were invited to sup with the prince, made their way into the house.
Some of them arrived in sedan-chairs, but the majority came on foot, since no coaches could be procured. But however they came, their appearance was greeted with cheers by the concourse collected in front of the mansion, and many an eye followed them as the door was flung open to give them admittance.
Naturally, Atherton felt elated on finding himself among so important an assemblage; but a great distinction was reserved for him.
It chanced that the prince was in the hall as he entered, and on seeing him, his royal highness addressed him with the most gracious familiarity, and taking him apart, said:
"Captain Legh, I am going round the town after supper, and I mean to take you with me."
Atherton bowed.
"I am told the illuminations are very good, and I want to see them. But I do not desire to be recognised, and I shall therefore take no other attendant except yourself."
Again Atherton bowed deeply—his looks expressing his gratification.
"Do not mention my purpose," continued the prince, "as I would not have it known. Some of my immediate attendants would insist on accompanying me, and I would rather be without them. In a word, I wish to be incognito, like the Caliph Haroun Al Raschid."
"Your royal highness may rely on my discretion," said Atherton.
"After supper," pursued the prince, "when the company has begun to disperse, come to this hall, and wait till I appear."
Atherton bowed profoundly, and the prince passed on.
Shortly afterwards, supper was served in the dining-room. The repast was profuse, but no great ceremony was observed, for the prince supped in private with the Duke of Perth, the Marquis of Tullibardine, Lord George Murray, and some other nobles.
Atherton sat next to Colonel Townley, who took the opportunity of giving him some instructions as to the duties he would have to discharge.
"The men will be drilled previous to the muster to-morrow," said the colonel, "and I hope we shall get through it tolerably well. Every allowance will be made for raw recruits. In a few days they will have learnt their duties, and all will be right."
On the opposite side of the table sat Sir Richard Rawcliffe, and Atherton remarked that the baronet's eye was often fixed suspiciously upon him. Colonel Townley also made the same remark.
"Sir Richard is far from pleased to see you here," he observed. "From some cause or other he seems to have taken a strong aversion to you."
"You are acquainted with my history, I know, colonel," said Atherton. "I cannot help thinking that Sir Richard, if he chose, could clear up the mystery that hangs over my birth."
This observation, which was not made in a very low tone, reached the quick ears of the baronet, who darted an angry look at the speaker.
"Colonel Townley," he said, "pray tell your neighbour that I am totally ignorant of his parentage."
"That does not satisfy me," cried Atherton, addressing the baronet. "I am determined to have an explanation."
Sir Richard laughed contemptuously, but made no reply.
"This discussion cannot be prolonged," said Colonel Townley, who perceived that the attention of those near them was attracted to what was passing. "But some explanation must be given."
No more was said at the time, but when supper was over, and the company had risen from the table, Colonel Townley followed the baronet, and taking him apart, said to him, in a grave tone:
"You have publicly insulted Captain Legh, Sir Richard. He demands an apology."
"I have none to make," rejoined the baronet, haughtily.
"In that case, Captain Legh will require satisfaction, and an early meeting must be appointed."
"I decline to meet Captain Legh," said the baronet.
"On what ground?" demanded Colonel Townley.
"I do not consider myself bound to give any reason for my refusal. Enough that I will not meet him."
"Your pardon, Sir Richard. 'Tis not enough for me. Since you decline to apologise to Captain Legh, or to give him satisfaction, you will have to fight me."
"If you think proper to espouse his quarrel, I will not balk you. The Chevalier de Johnstone, I am sure, will act for me, and your second can make all necessary arrangements with him."
"The affair must not be delayed. Will an early hour to-morrow morning suit you?"
"Perfectly," replied Sir Richard. "As early as you please."
"Swords, of course?" said the colonel.
"Swords, by all means."
Bowing stiffly towards each other, they then separated, and Colonel Townley repaired to the entrance-hall, where he expected to find Atherton.
As he was looking round, he noticed the Chevalier de Johnstone, and going up to him, inquired if he had seen Captain Legh.
"Yes," replied Johnstone; "he was here not a minute or two ago. But he has gone upon a nocturnal ramble with the prince. You look incredulous—but 'tis even so. His royal highness has just gone forth to see the illuminations, or in quest of some adventure, and has taken Captain Legh with him. As he passed quickly through this hall the prince did not stop to speak to any one, but signed to Captain Legh, who instantly followed him. This is all I have to relate; but it proves that the young man is in high favour. His royal highness was muffled in a plaid shawl, different from the one he usually wears, and otherwise disguised; but I knew him."
"'Tis strange he did not take his aide-de-camp, Colonel Ker, with him, in preference to Captain Legh," remarked Colonel Townley. "But I have something to say to you in reference to an affair in which this highly-favoured young man is concerned. Sir Richard Rawcliffe refuses to offer satisfaction to Legh for the rudeness he offered him at supper. I have taken up the quarrel, for I will not allow an officer in my regiment to be insulted. You won't refuse, I presume, to act as Rawcliffe's second?"
"Certainly not," replied Johnstone. "But I wish the duel could be prevented. It seems a very trifling matter to fight about."
"I think Sir Richard has behaved very badly to the young man, and I will have an apology from him."
"Well, since it must be so, there is no help. Send your second to me."
"Colonel Ker will be my second. I will send him to you as soon as he makes his appearance."
"Meantime, I will consult Sir Richard—though I don't fancy he will apologise."
He then went in quest of the baronet, whom he soon found, while Colonel Townley seated himself in the hall with the intention of awaiting Atherton's return.
Muffled in a plaid shawl, and otherwise disguised, as we have said, the prince passed unrecognised through the guard, and taking his way down Market Street Lane, proceeded to a short distance, and then halted to allow Atherton to overtake him.
In uncovering the lower part of his face to speak to the young man, Charles betrayed himself to an individual who had seen him come forth from the mansion, and suspecting his condition, had followed him cautiously.
This person, whose name was Weir, and who acted as a spy to the Duke of Cumberland, had conceived the daring idea of capturing the prince, and sending him prisoner to the duke, whose head-quarters were at Lichfield. He had been stimulated by the hope of a large reward to undertake this desperate project. A price of thirty thousand pounds had been set upon Charles Edward's head, and though Weir shrank from assassination, he had no scruples as to capturing the prince, neither was he deterred by the extraordinary danger of the attempt. All he wanted was an opportunity to execute his design.
Captain Weir, as he was styled, though he had no real military rank, usually acted alone, but on this occasion he had three subordinate officers with him, on whose courage and fidelity he could perfectly rely. They were now close at hand, watching his movements, and waiting for orders. Like himself, they were all well armed.
Signing to these personages to follow him, Captain Weir continued to track the prince's course down Market Street Lane.
Meanwhile, the young Chevalier was marching along quietly, with Atherton by his side, never for a moment imagining he was in danger, or even that his disguise had been detected.
Scores of Highland soldiers were in the street, but none of them knew their commander-in-chief. Had they done so, they would have formed a guard round his person. But this was precisely what Charles objected to. Wherever there was a crowd he strove to avoid it; but the obstructions were frequent. He was rejoiced, however, to perceive that the white cockade everywhere prevailed, while such observations as reached him indicated that the populace was decidedly favourable to his cause.
It was such honest expressions of opinion as these that he desired to hear, and where a group of persons were talking loudly, he stopped to listen to their discourse.
As may well be supposed, he cared little for the illuminations except as evidencing the goodwill of the townsfolk, but he was struck by the picturesque appearance of the old houses when thus lighted up. After several halts from one cause or other, he and Atherton at last reached the market-place.
Here, in the centre of the area, was a large bonfire, with a great crowd collected round it. Moreover, a barrel of ale, provided by the magistrates, had just been broached, enabling the crowd to drink the prince's health, coupled with that of his august sire, James the Third, in flowing cups.
Much amused by the scene, Charles stopped to look at it, as well as to examine the curious picture presented by the illuminated market-place.
While he was thus occupied, a sudden movement in the throng separated him from his attendant, and he was endeavouring to free himself from the press when a strong grasp was laid upon his arm.
The person who had thus seized him was no other than Sergeant Dickson.
"Unmuffle, and show your face, if you be not ashamed of it," cried the sergeant. "I suspect you are a Hanoverian spy. I have heard there are some in the town, and you don't look like a Highland officer."
"Hands off, fellow," said the prince, authoritatively. "Help me out of the crowd."
"Help you to escape! not I!" cried Dickson. "Unmuffle, I say, and let us see your face."
Several of the bystanders now called out, "A spy! a spy!" and Charles would have been unpleasantly circumstanced, if Helen Carnegie, who was near the sergeant, had not interposed.
"You are wrong, Erick," she cried. "This is no spy. Release him."
But the sergeant was not inclined to part with his prisoner, and was only prevented from plucking the covering from his face by Atherton, who by this time had forced his way up.
A word breathed in the ear of the sergeant instantly changed the complexion of affairs, and he was now just as anxious to get the prince off as he had before been to detain him.
"All right," he shouted. "His royal highness has not a better friend than this noble gentleman. I'll answer for him. Stand back! stand back! my masters, and let the gentleman pass."
Vigorously seconding these injunctions with his strong arm, he cleared a way for the prince, who was soon out of the crowd; and this being accomplished, the sergeant humbly besought pardon for his maladroit proceeding.
"You ought to have known me under any disguise, sergeant," was the prince's good-natured reply. "You are not half so sharp-witted as Helen. She knew me at once."
"I canna take upon mysel to declare that, your highness," replied the Scottish lassie, who had followed in their wake; "but I ken'd fu' weel ye were na a fawse spy, but a leal gentleman."
"Well, sergeant, I am willing to overlook your fault for Helen's sake," said Charles.
"I shall na sae readily forgive mysel," replied the sergeant. "But in truth my thoughts were runnin' on spies. May I be permitted to attend your highness?"
"No, I forbid you to follow me," said Charles.
So saying, he marched off with Atherton, leaving the sergeant greatly chagrined by the interdiction.
"This'll be a gude lesson t' ye, Erick," observed Helen. "In future, ye'll ken the prince when you see him, whether he be muffled in a shawl or na."
"Come wi' me, lassie. I'm resolved to follow his highness at a respectful distance. The night's not ower yet, and something tells me I may be useful to him."
"Ye ought na to disobey orders, Erick; but sin ye win gang yer ain gate, I'll e'en gae wi' ye."
With this they followed in the direction taken by Charles and his companion, but before reaching the bottom of Old Mill Grate, they lost sight of them. The sergeant questioned a person whom he saw standing at the corner of the street, and was told that two officers had gone towards the bridge. The information was not altogether correct, but the person who gave it was Captain Weir.
Scarcely was the sergeant gone, when a man on a powerful steed came up, and dismounting, delivered the horse to Weir, who was evidently waiting for him.
Accompanied by this man, who marched by his side, Weir rode along Hanging Ditch, and soon overtook his two myrmidons, who were following the prince. They pointed out their intended captive about fifty yards in advance.
"I need not repeat my instructions," said Weir, bending down as he addressed them, and speaking in a low voice. "But I again enjoin you to use the utmost despatch. Success mainly depends upon the celerity with which the work is done. If I can secure him, I will answer for the rest. Now go on, and draw a little nearer to him."
With this, he dropped slightly behind, got ready a belt, which he meant to use, and examined the holsters to see that the pistols within them were all right.
Had Charles Edward been playing into their hands he could not have taken a course more favourable to the designs of these desperate men. His intention had been to return by the collegiate church; but he was deterred by the uproarious crowds collected round the two large bonfires burning at the back of the venerable fabric, and proceeded up Withy Grove, by the advice of Atherton, who being well acquainted with the locality, explained to him that he could easily and expeditiously regain his head-quarters by crossing an open field on the right at the top of this thoroughfare.
When Weir and his accomplices found that the prince had elected this course they felt sure he was delivered into their hands.
At the rear of the small and scattered tenements, then constituting Withy Grove, were extensive gardens, and beyond these, as already stated, there were two or three fields, as yet entirely unbuilt upon.
Into these fields the prince and his attendant now turned, but the place looked so gloomy, from its contrast with the lights blazing in the distance, that Atherton thought it would be prudent to turn back. Charles, however, having no fear, determined to go on.
Shortly afterwards, a real alarm occurred. A horseman, accompanied by three men on foot, suddenly entered the field. At first, neither the prince nor Atherton imagined that their design was hostile, but they were quickly undeceived. Before he could offer any effectual resistance, Charles was seized by two strong men, who bound his arms behind his back, and twisting the shawl over his mouth, prevented him from uttering an outcry.
At the same time, the horseman dealt a blow at Atherton with a hanger, which the young man avoided, but he had next to defend himself against the attack of the third ruffian on foot, so that he could render no immediate assistance to the prince.
While he was thus engaged, the two desperadoes who had seized Charles lifted him from the ground, and despite his struggles, set him on the horse behind their leader, with his face towards the crupper, while Weir passed a broad leather belt round his waist, so as to secure him, and was in the act of buckling it in front, when the bridle was seized by Atherton, who, by a lucky thrust, had delivered himself from his assailant.
Just in time. In another minute rescue would have been impossible. Hitherto, not a shot had been fired; but Weir now drew a pistol, and levelling it at Atherton, bade him instantly retire on peril of his life.
The gallant young man, however, still held on, but was unable to use his sword, owing to the rearing of the steed.
Weir then fired, but missed his mark, the shot taking effect in his horse's head. With a cry of pain the mortally-wounded animal broke away, but almost instantly sank to the ground and rolled over.
Unbuckling the belt, Weir disengaged himself as quickly as he could from the prostrate steed, and full of rage that his attempt should be thus foiled, the miscreant might have raised his hand against the defenceless prince, if loud shouts had not warned him that assistance was at hand. He then sought safety in flight, and was speeding towards the back of the field, followed by his men, two of whom had been severely wounded by Atherton.
The shout that had alarmed Weir proceeded from Sergeant Dickson and Tom Syddall.
When he was on his way to the bridge, the sergeant encountered the barber, and the latter satisfied him that the prince had not gone in that direction.
His suspicions being excited, Dickson turned back instantly, and Syddall accompanied him—Helen, of course, continuing with her lover.
Some information picked up caused them to turn into Withy Grove, and they had just tracked that thoroughfare, and were debating whether they should go on to Shude Hill, when the noise of a conflict was heard in the field on the right.
"My forebodings have come true," cried the sergeant, "some villains are attacking the prince."
As the words were uttered, the report of a pistol increased their alarm.
Shouting lustily, Erick drew his claymore, and dashed into the field, followed by Helen and Syddall.
Though too late to render assistance, the sergeant was in time to help Atherton to liberate the prince. By their united efforts Charles was soon on his feet, and freed from his bonds.
"I trust in Heaven that your highness has sustained no harm?" cried Atherton, anxiously.
"No, I am entirely uninjured," said Charles, in a cheerful voice. "I have to thank you most heartily, Captain Legh, for freeing me from villains whose design was evidently to carry me off as a prisoner to the Duke of Cumberland."
"I think I have sufficiently punished two of the villains," said Atherton, "but it enrages me that their leader, and doubtless the contriver of this atrocious scheme, has escaped."
"He may yet be captured," cried the sergeant. "Tom Syddall was with me when I entered the field, and has gone in pursuit. He will give the alarm."
"Then I must hasten to head-quarters, and show myself," said the prince, moving on.
But after walking quickly for some forty or fifty yards, he was compelled to halt.
"I am more shaken than I thought," he said. "Give me your arm, Helen, I must have some support."
Proceeding in this manner, he had nearly reached the limits of the field, and was approaching an unfinished street that communicated with Market Street Lane, when a sudden light revealed a picket of Highland soldiers. At the head of the party, several of whom carried torches, was Colonel Ker, accompanied by Colonel Townley and the Chevalier de Johnstone.
In another moment, a wild and joyful shout announced that the Highlanders had discovered their beloved prince. They rushed forward in a body, and the foremost flung themselves at his feet, while those behind gave vent to their delight in another ringing shout.
Colonel Ker did not choose to interrupt this demonstration; but, as soon as it was over, he advanced with the two distinguished officers just mentioned, and all three offered their congratulations to his royal highness on his escape.
After warmly thanking them, Charles called Atherton forward, and told them that he owed his deliverance entirely to the young man's gallant conduct, explaining what had been done, and concluding emphatically with these words, "But for Captain Legh, I should at this moment be a prisoner."
Naturally, the young man was much gratified by these observations, as well as by the praises bestowed on him by Colonel Ker and the others, but he received their commendations with great modesty.
The prince then asked Colonel Townley how he had heard of the attack made upon him, and learnt that the alarming news had been brought by Tom Syddall.
"Syddall came to me," said Colonel Townley, "and I immediately took him to Colonel Ker, as his statement might not have been credited."
"Where is he?" demanded Charles. "I must thank him for what he has done."
"After explaining where your highness would be found, Syddall begged to be allowed to go in quest of the villains who had assailed you," said Colonel Ker, "being fully persuaded that he could accomplish the capture of their daring leader, and as Colonel Townley knew the spot where your royal highness would be found, I did not refuse the request."
"If the villain should be captured to-night," said Charles, "which I think scarce likely, let him be brought before me at once. I will interrogate him myself."
"Your commands shall be obeyed," rejoined Ker. "Shall we now return to head-quarters?"
"By all means," replied Charles. "But march slowly."
Colonel Ker was about to give orders, when another party of soldiers, having a prisoner in their midst, was seen advancing along the unfinished street. The party was guided by Tom Syddall, who carried a torch.
As soon as the prince was descried, the advancing party halted, and Syddall giving the torch to one of the men, pressed forward towards Charles, and making a profound obeisance, said:
"The villain who attacked your royal highness has been captured. He had taken refuge in a stable at the back of the Angel Inn. He is here, if you desire to question him."
In obedience to the prince's command the prisoner then stepped forward between two soldiers. He did not appear intimidated by the position in which he was placed, but bore himself very boldly.
Charles looked at him for a few moments, and calling to Atherton, asked him if he recognised the man.
"I recognise him as the leader of the attack," was the reply.
"Such is my own opinion," observed the prince. "How say you?" he added to the prisoner. "Do you deny the charge?"
"No," replied the prisoner. "I am the man."
"You avow your guilt," said Charles, surprised by his boldness. "How are you named?"
"I am known as Captain Weir," replied the other.
"Have you aught to allege why you should not be delivered to the provost-marshal for immediate execution?" observed Charles, sternly.
"My life is justly forfeited," replied the prisoner, "yet your royal highness will do well to spare me."
"Wherefore?" demanded the prince, whose curiosity was excited.
"My reasons are only for your private ear," replied the prisoner.
After a moment's reflection, during which he kept his eye fixed on Weir, Charles ordered the guard to retire.
"Leave the prisoner with me," he said. "But if he attempts to fly—shoot him."
As soon as the command was obeyed, he said:
"You can speak freely now. Why should I spare your life?"
"Firstly, because it will prove to the world that you are a magnanimous prince, and in that respect superior to your enemies, who are notorious for their severity," replied Weir. "Next, because I can tell much that it behoves your royal highness to know, as will be evident when I declare that I am employed by the Duke of Cumberland as a spy, and am, therefore, necessarily in his royal highness's confidence. If my life be spared, and I am allowed to go back to Lichfield, where the duke is quartered, I can mislead him by erroneous information, while I shall be able to acquaint you with his plans—exact knowledge of which I need not say will be eminently serviceable."
"There is much in what you say, I must own," replied the prince. "But what guarantee have I that you will not prove a double traitor?"
"My gratitude," replied Weir. "I could never prove faithless to a prince so generous."
"I can make no promise," replied Charles; but in a tone that held out some encouragement to the prisoner.
At a sign from the prince the guard then advanced, and again took charge of Weir. Shortly afterwards, the prisoner was removed, it being understood that his execution was deferred—much to the disappointment of the Highland guard, who would willingly have shot him.
Charles then addressed a few kindly observations to Syddall, who had been mainly instrumental in the capture of the spy, telling him that the service should not pass unrequited. Nor did the prince neglect to offer his renewed thanks to Sergeant Dickson and Helen for the zeal and devotion they had both displayed. For Atherton a signal manifestation of favour was reserved.
During the march back to head-quarters, which were not far distant, the prince kept the young man near him, and occasionally took his arm. When the party arrived at the mansion in Market Street Lane they found it completely invested by an anxious crowd, who shouted joyfully on beholding the prince.
But this was nothing to the scene that took place when his royal highness entered the house. Almost all the nobles and Highland chiefs were assembled in the hall, and as Charles entered they pressed around him to offer their warmest congratulations on his escape.
After thanking them in accents that bespoke the deepest emotion, the prince presented Atherton to them, saying, "It is to Captain Legh that I owe my preservation."
The young man was quite overwhelmed by the plaudits that followed this gracious speech.
Thus ended the most important day that had hitherto occurred in Atherton's career. It found him an unknown, and undistinguished; but it left him apparently on the road to honour and preferment.
Next morning, at an early hour, Colonel Townley and Colonel Ker issued from the prince's head-quarters, and, rather to the surprise of the guard drawn up in the court-yard, proceeded at a quick pace along the road leading to Stockport.
In a very few minutes they had left the town behind, for beyond Market Street Lane it was then open country. Not many persons were on the road, and these were chiefly country folk bringing poultry, butter, and milk to market.
Some hundred yards in advance, however, were an officer of rank in the Highland army, and a tall middle-aged gentleman wrapped in a cloak. These persons were evidently bent on the same errand as themselves, and marched on quickly for about a quarter of a mile, when they stopped at the gate of a large meadow. The ground appeared suitable to their purpose, inasmuch as it sank at the further end, and formed a hollow which was screened from view.
Sir Richard Rawcliffe and the Chevalier de Johnstone, for they were the individuals who had thus halted, punctiliously saluted the others when they came up, and Johnstone asked Colonel Ker if he thought the ground would suit.
After consulting his principal, Ker replied in the affirmative, upon which they all passed through the gate, and made their way to the hollow.
Before the preliminaries of the duel were entered upon an ineffectual effort was made by the seconds to adjust the difference. Nothing less than an apology would satisfy Colonel Townley, but this Sir Richard haughtily refused.
Finding their efforts fruitless, the seconds then retired—swords were drawn—hats taken off—and instantly after the salute, the combatants engaged—the attack being made by a thrust in carte delivered by Sir Richard, which was well warded by his adversary.
Several passes were then exchanged, and it was evident to the lookers-on that Colonel Townley meant to disarm his antagonist, and he soon succeeded in the design by skilfully parrying another thrust, seizing the shell of Sir Richard's sword, and compelling him to surrender the weapon.
The seconds then interfered to prevent a renewal of the conflict, but the baronet, who had received his sword from his adversary, insisted on going on, when the clatter of horses' hoofs was heard rapidly approaching the spot, and the next moment the prince appeared, mounted on a splendid bay charger, and attended by an orderly.
Without waiting a moment, Charles rode down into the hollow, and pushing between the combatants, ordered them to sheathe their swords. Of course the command was instantly obeyed.
"A word with you, gentlemen," said the prince, sternly. "You must have been aware that a hostile meeting between persons of your rank would be highly displeasing to me, as well as prejudicial to our cause, and I ought to mark my disapproval of your conduct by something more than a reprimand, but I am willing to overlook it, provided a reconciliation takes place between you."
Both bowed, and Colonel Townley signified his assent, but the baronet maintained a sullen silence.
"I am aware of the grounds of your quarrel," pursued the prince, "and I hold that you, Sir Richard Rawcliffe, are in the wrong. I trust you will offer a sufficient apology—not merely to Colonel Townley, but to Captain Legh, whom you have insulted."
"Your royal highness's injunctions must needs be obeyed," rejoined the baronet, haughtily. "To Colonel Townley I am quite willing to apologise; but to Captain Legh——"
"I will accept no apology from you, Sir Richard, in which my friend is not included," interrupted Colonel Townley. "I have now a right to demand the cause of the insolent treatment Captain Legh has received, and an explanation of your reason for refusing him the satisfaction to which he was entitled."
"Come with me for a moment, Sir Richard," said Charles, taking him aside. Then bending down towards him, and lowering his voice, he added, "Certain circumstances have just come to my knowledge, showing that you must have some knowledge of Atherton Legh's history, and accounting in some measure for your otherwise incomprehensible conduct towards him."
Sir Richard endeavoured to hide the confusion into which he was thrown, but could not conceal it from the searching glance fixed upon him by the prince.
"Answer me one question?" pursued Charles. "Answer it explicitly? Are you not Atherton Legh's mysterious guardian?"
The baronet's confusion perceptibly increased. Charles seemed to read his thoughts.
"I am wholly at a loss to conceive whence your royal highness has obtained this information respecting me," he said, at length.
"No matter how it has been obtained," remarked Charles, sternly. "Is it true?"
"It is correct in the main," replied the baronet. "Although I would gladly be excused from giving any further explanation, I shall be willing to do so at some more convenient opportunity."
"The explanation cannot be deferred," said the prince, authoritatively. "After the levée this morning you shall have a private audience."
"I will not fail to attend upon your royal highness," replied Sir Richard, evidently much relieved.
But his brow again clouded, when the prince said:
"You will be pleased to bring your daughter with you."
"My daughter!" exclaimed the baronet. "She has nothing whatever to do with the explanation I have to offer."
"You have heard my injunction, Sir Richard. Both Miss Rawcliffe and Captain Legh must be present at the audience."
"I make no objection," replied the baronet; "but it pains me to find that I am viewed with suspicion by your royal highness, to whom I have given unquestionable proofs of my zeal and devotion."
"Justice must be done, Sir Richard," rejoined the prince, sternly. "If there has been a wrong it must be righted. The mystery attaching to this young man's birth must be cleared up, and since you are able to give the information required, you are bound to furnish it. I shall expect you and Miss Rawcliffe after the levée."
Then turning to Colonel Townley, he added: "All obstacles to a perfect reconciliation between you and Sir Richard are now removed. I hope, therefore, to have the pleasure of seeing you shake hands, and trust you will become as good friends as ever."
The injunction having been complied with, the prince prepared to take his departure, saying:
"After a morning duel in France, all those engaged in it—if the principals are fortunately unhurt, or but slightly wounded—make a point of breakfasting together, and I don't see why the custom should not be adopted in this country."
"Nor I," cried Colonel Townley. "I have gained an excellent appetite."
"Then I shall expect you all at breakfast an hour hence," said the prince. "I have much to do to-day. Among other important matters I have to attend the muster of your Manchester Regiment," he added to Colonel Townley.
"I was afraid your royal highness might be prevented," said the colonel. "And that would have been a great disappointment to us. I trust you do not feel any ill effects from the rough shake you got last night."
"A little stiffness—that is all," replied Charles.
"Have you come to any determination in regard to Weir?" inquired Colonel Ker. "Is he to be shot?"
"No," replied the prince. "I shall send him to the Duke of Cumberland. Now for a ride round the town. I shall be back in time for breakfast. Au revoir!"
With this he bounded up the side of the hollow and rode off in the direction of the town, followed by the orderly.
It was a fine November morning, and as the surrounding hills were clearly distinguishable, the prince enjoyed the prospect as he cantered along.
The atmosphere being free from smoke as well as fog, the town had a bright, clean, and cheerful look, which it seldom wears now-a-days. What would Charles have thought if he could have conjured up in imagination the smoky factories and huge warehouses now covering the pleasant orchards and gardens near which he rode?
Manchester in '45, as we have already stated, resembled a country town, and on no side was the resemblance more complete than on this, since not more than half a dozen scattered habitations could be descried, the upper end of Market Street being then really a lane.
But though the outskirts of the town were quiet enough, it was evident from the tumultuous sounds that reached the ear, not only that the inhabitants generally were astir, but that the numerous companies billeted upon them were likewise moving about.
The call of the bugle resounded from various quarters, and the beating of the drum was heard in almost every street. Charles listened delightedly to sounds that proclaimed the presence of his army. He thought of the advance he had already made—how another week's march would bring him to London; his breast beat high with hope and ardour; and he fully believed at that moment that his romantic expedition would be crowned with success.
Just then the bells of all the churches began to ring, and their joyful peals heightened his enthusiasm.
Not wishing to enter the town, he commanded the orderly to guide him to Castle Field; upon which the man rode on in front, and describing a wide circuit then entirely unbuilt upon, but now converted into densely-populated districts and large streets, brought him at last to a large open piece of ground, almost encircled by the river Medlock, and partly surrounded by the crumbling walls of an old Roman-British castle, in the centre of which the artillery was parked.
Not far from the field-pieces were the powder carriages; while a large portion of the area was occupied by baggage-waggons; the remainder of the space being filled by artillerymen and their horses.
No better place in the town or neighbourhood could have been found for the purpose. Castle Field would have accommodated double the number of cannon, and thrice the men, it now held.
It was a very pleasant spot, and a favourite resort of the townsfolk. Sports of various kinds took place within the ring, and an annual fair was held there. But it had never looked more picturesque than it did now, filled as it was with cannon, ammunition, baggage-waggons, sumpter-horses, and men.
Early as was the hour, there were numerous spectators on the spot—women as well as men, for the artillery was a great attraction—and some dozens had climbed the old walls, and planted themselves on the top, to obtain a better view of the novel scene.
As soon as the crowd collected on Castle Field became aware of the prince's arrival, they gathered around him, cheering and expressing heartfelt satisfaction that he had escaped the treacherous attack made upon him overnight.
There could be no doubt from the enthusiasm displayed that the prince's escape had greatly increased his popularity, all those who got near him declaring they were ready to defend him to the death.
Warmly thanking them for their zeal, Charles extricated himself from the press, and was joined by the Duke of Perth, and some officers of artillery, with whom he rode over the field, examining different matters as he went along.
While making this inspection he encountered many ladies, from all of whom he received congratulations, and to whom he had something agreeable to say.
Amongst others, whose curiosity had induced them to pay an early visit to Castle Field, was Beppy. She had come thither, attended by Helen Carnegie.
Charles stopped to speak to the young lady, and noticing that she was decked in white, and wore a St. Andrew's cross, he said, "You have not forgotten, I perceive, Miss Byrom, that this is the fête-day of our Scottish patron saint."
"I was reminded of it by Helen Carnegie, your highness," replied Beppy. "She came to tell me of your most fortunate escape, for which I cannot be sufficiently grateful, and offered to make me a cross."
"No one has done me a like good turn," laughed Charles.
"Here is a braw St. Andrew's cross, if your royal highness will deign to wear it," cried Helen, offering him one.
Charles smiled his thanks, and fastened the cross to his jacket.
"Are you staying with Miss Byrom, Helen?" he inquired.
"'Deed I am, your royal highness," she replied.
"She will have a lodging at my father's house so long as the army remains in the town," added Beppy.
"I am glad to hear it," replied the prince. "I am certain she will be well cared for."
He then bowed graciously to the young lady, and bestowing a parting smile on Helen, rode on.
But he soon came to another halt.
A little further off he discovered Constance Rawcliffe and Monica. They were attended by Father Jerome. Graciously saluting the two damsels, and bowing to the priest, he said to Miss Rawcliffe:
"You are the very person I desired to see. I have some news for you—but it is for your private ear."
On this intimation Monica and the priest drew back.
Charles then continued in a low voice: "You will be surprised to learn that your father has just fought a duel." Seeing her change colour, he hastened to add: "You need have no sort of uneasiness. He is unhurt. I left the ground only a short time ago, and can therefore speak positively."
"With whom was the duel fought?" inquired Constance, unable to repress her emotion. "Not with——"
"Not with Atherton Legh," supplied the prince; "though the quarrel was on his account. Sir Richard's adversary was Colonel Townley. Luckily, your father was disarmed, and so the affair was brought to an end. The duel appears to have been unavoidable, since Sir Richard refused to apologise to Captain Legh for rudeness offered him, and would not even give him satisfaction. Colonel Townley, therefore, took up the quarrel, and you know the result."
"Is the affair ended?" she asked, eagerly.
"Not quite. A full explanation seems to me to be due from Sir Richard Rawcliffe to Captain Legh; and to insure it, I have laid my commands upon Sir Richard to meet Captain Legh in my presence after the levée, in order that he may answer certain questions which I shall then put to him. I fear this will not be agreeable to your father; but he might have avoided it. A few words would set all right, but these he refuses to utter. I had, therefore, no alternative but to compel him to speak out."
"It is right that Captain Legh should know the truth," remarked Constance.
"I felt sure you would think so, and I therefore enjoined Sir Richard to bring you with him; but if you see any objections, I will excuse your attendance."
"Perhaps my presence may be necessary," she rejoined. "I will come."
"That is well," said the prince. "I owe Captain Legh a large debt of gratitude, and am anxious to pay it. I shall begin by setting him right. That done, I shall use all my influence to effect a reconciliation between—— You understand my meaning, I am quite sure."
"No more on that subject, I implore your highness," she rejoined, blushing deeply.
"I hope I have said enough to prove how much interested I am in the young man, and how anxious I am to promote his happiness," he said. "Why, here he is!" he exclaimed, as Atherton was seen riding towards the spot. "If I had summoned him, he could not have appeared more à propos. I hope Miss Rawcliffe will not continue to look coldly upon him."
"I am bound to obey," she rejoined, demurely.
"I wonder what message he brings me?" remarked the prince.
"I dare say your royal highness could give a shrewd guess," she rejoined, with an almost imperceptible smile.
At this moment Atherton came up, and, removing his hat, delivered a letter to the prince.
"From Lord George Murray," he said, still remaining uncovered.
"'Tis not very important," observed Charles, opening it, and glancing at its contents. "But I am glad you have brought it, since it gives me the opportunity of placing you in attendance upon Miss Rawcliffe, who may want an escort when she quits the ground."
"I shall be charmed with the office," rejoined Atherton; "but I am not sure that Miss Rawcliffe will be equally well pleased."
"Have no misgiving," replied Charles, with a significant look, which implied that all was arranged. "I have some further orders to give you, but it will be time enough when you return to head-quarters. Meanwhile, I charge you to take especial care of these young ladies."
With this he rode off, and almost immediately afterwards quitted the ground, accompanied by the Duke of Perth.
How much surprised Monica and Father Jerome had been by the earnest discourse that took place between the prince and Constance, we need scarcely state; but they were still more surprised when Atherton came up, and was placed in attendance upon the young lady.
It was quite clear to the lookers-on that the prince had generously taken Atherton's cause in hand, and meant to carry it through to a successful issue. Monica, who had been much pained at the misunderstanding between the lovers, was rejoiced; but the priest felt differently.
Meantime, Atherton, by no means certain that he was welcome, endeavoured to excuse himself to Constance.
"I trust Miss Rawcliffe will not blame me for this intrusion," he said. "She can dismiss me as soon as she thinks proper."
"That would be impossible, since you have been left with me by the prince," she rejoined. "But I have no desire to dismiss you. On the contrary, I am glad to have an opportunity of congratulating you on your good fortune. You have gained the prince's favour, and are therefore on the high road to distinction."
"If I am restored to your good opinion I shall be satisfied," he rejoined.
"My good opinion is worth little," she said.
"'Tis everything to me," he cried.
She made no direct reply, but after a moment's pause remarked:
"To-day may prove as eventful to you as yesterday. Has not the prince acquainted you with his intentions?"
"He has told me nothing. I am ordered to attend him after the levée—that is all."
"'Tis to meet my father, who, by his highness's command, will disclose certain matters to you. But pray ask me no more questions. I ought not to have told you so much. You will learn all in good time. And now I must relieve you from this irksome attendance."
"You know very well it is not irksome," he replied, with a look of reproach.
"At all events, you must have other duties to attend to. You have to prepare for the muster of your regiment. Jemmy Dawson is fully occupied, or he would be here with Monica. I really must set you at liberty."
"Pray let me see you safely from the ground?" entreated Atherton.
"Well, I cannot object to that."
Then turning to Monica, she said:
"Are you ready to depart?"
"Quite," replied the other.
Atherton cleared the way, and having brought them to the long unfinished street that led from Castle Field to the centre of the town, he bowed, and rode off, fondly persuading himself he should soon meet Constance again.
"You must see your father without delay, Miss Rawcliffe," said the priest in an authoritative tone to Constance, as soon as Atherton was gone. "We are almost certain to find Sir Richard at the Bull's Head, and if he should not be within, he will have left a message for you, or a letter."
Constance quite agreed that it would be proper to call at the Bull's Head, though she felt quite sure her father would make all needful arrangements for the meeting appointed by the prince, and they accordingly proceeded to the inn.
So crowded was the market-place with troops, that they had considerable difficulty in crossing, and when at length they reached their destination, Sir Richard was absent.
"He had gone out at a very early hour," said Diggles, "and had not yet returned."
"He cannot be long," observed Father Jerome. "We must wait for him."
"I vote that we order breakfast," said Monica. "I am frightfully hungry."
As Constance and the priest both sympathised with her, breakfast was ordered, and it was lucky the precaution was taken, for nearly an hour elapsed before Sir Richard made his appearance.
Long ere this, they had finished their meal, and when the baronet entered the room, were watching the troops from the windows that commanded the market-place, and listening to the shrill notes of the pipes.
Sir Richard did not seem surprised, and perhaps expected to find them there. Constance sprang forward to meet him, and bidding him good morrow, said eagerly:
"I know all about the arrangements, papa. I have seen the prince at Castle Field."
"I am aware of it," he said, sternly. "I have just left his royal highness."
"Of course you will attend the meeting he has appointed?" she said, alarmed by his manner.
He made no reply, and scarcely noticing Monica, signed to the priest, who understood the gesture, and followed him into the adjoining room.
"What does this mean?" said Monica, uneasily.
"I cannot tell," replied Constance. "But I hope papa will not disobey the prince."
"Surely he will not," cried the other.
"All will depend upon the counsel given him," said Constance. "Unluckily, Father Jerome is no friend to Atherton Legh."
"But your influence will prevail."
"You are quite mistaken, Monica. Papa won't listen to me. You saw how sternly he regarded me just now. He is displeased with me, as if I were to blame, because things have gone contrary to his wishes."
"I cannot conceive why he dislikes Atherton so much," said Monica, "but I am sure his aversion is most unreasonable."
"I hoped it might be overcome," sighed Constance, "but I now begin to despair. Even the prince, I fear, will not be successful."
"Do you think Sir Richard has an ill-adviser?" remarked Monica, significantly.
"I hope not," rejoined Constance.
Let us now see what passed between Sir Richard and the priest when they were closeted together.
For a few moments the baronet seemed indisposed to commence the conversation; but as Father Jerome remained silent, he forced himself to speak.
"I am placed in a very awkward dilemma, as you are doubtless aware," he said, "and scarcely know how to act. Having consented to meet Atherton Legh in the prince's presence I am unable to retreat with honour, and yet I cannot answer certain questions that will inevitably be put to me."
"Can you not brave it out?" rejoined Father Jerome. "The prince cannot be acquainted with any secret matters connected with this young man."
"He knows more than is desirable," rejoined the baronet. "Some one has evidently informed him that I have acted as the young man's guardian."
"Mr. Marriott cannot have betrayed your confidence?" remarked Father Jerome.
"I do not think so," rejoined the other.
"Who else can have given the information?" observed the priest. "Have you no suspicion?"
"Ha! a light flashes upon me. Should it be so!—though I would fain hope not—the meeting would be doubly dangerous—for she is to be present."
"I can set your mind at rest. She knows nothing more than this one fact."
"But that may lead to a discovery of all the rest," cried Sir Richard.
"Not since you are prepared. 'Tis a pity the packet was left with her?"
"'Twas a great error, I admit. But I will not commit another imprudent act. I will not be interrogated by the prince."
"Again I say you had better brave it out than fly—and fly you must if you neglect to obey the prince's commands. Your disappearance will give rise to unpleasant suspicions."
"But some excuse may be framed. You can help me. You have a ready wit."
"Well, the invention must be plausible, or it won't pass. Suppose you go to Rawcliffe Hall to fetch some documents, which are necessary to a full explanation of this matter. You intend to come back to-morrow—but are unavoidably detained—and do not return till the prince has left Manchester."
"That will do admirably!" cried Sir Richard eagerly. "You have saved me. You must take my excuse to the prince. He will then believe it."
"But to give a colour to the excuse you must really go to Rawcliffe Hall."
"I require no urging," rejoined Sir Richard. "I am most anxious to get away, and heartily regret that I ever joined the insurrection. I wish I could make terms with the Government."
"Perhaps you may be able to do so—but of that hereafter," rejoined the priest. "First effect a secure retreat. I will do all I can to cover it."
"I will set off at once," said Sir Richard. "But I must take leave of my daughter."
"Better not," said the priest. "I will bid her adieu for you."
Sir Richard suffered himself to be persuaded, and presently left the room. Ordering his horse, on the pretext of attending the muster of the Manchester Regiment, he rode out of the town.
Not till some quarter of an hour after the baronet's departure did Father Jerome present himself to the two damsels, who were alarmed at seeing him appear alone.
"Where is papa?" exclaimed Constance eagerly.
"He has started for Rawcliffe," replied the priest.
"Gone!—without a word to me! Impossible!" she cried.
"'Tis nevertheless true," replied Father Jerome, gravely. "He wished to avoid any discussion. He has gone to fetch certain documents, without which he declines to appear before the prince."
"His highness will regard it as an act of disobedience, and will be justly offended," cried Constance.
"I do not think so, when I have explained matters to him," rejoined the priest.
"I am not to be duped," said Constance, bitterly. "Atherton will learn nothing more."
This being the festival of St. Andrew, as already intimated, the Scottish nobles and chiefs desired that a special morning service should be performed for them at the collegiate church, and arrangements were accordingly made for compliance with their request.
Prayers were to be read by the Rev. William Shrigley, one of the chaplains, and an avowed Nonjuror, and the sermon was to be preached by the Rev. Mr. Coppock, chaplain to the Manchester Regiment, who was chosen for the occasion by the prince.
A certain number of men from each regiment being permitted to attend the service, the whole of the nave, except the mid aisle, which was reserved for the officers, was entirely filled by Highland soldiers, and as the men were in their full accoutrements, and armed with targets, claymores, and firelocks, the effect was exceedingly striking.
Yet more imposing was the scene when the long central aisle was crowded with officers—when the side aisles were thronged with the townspeople, and the transepts were full of ladies. Those present on that memorable occasion, and whose gaze ranged over the picturesque crowd of armed mountaineers, could not fail to be struck by the tall, graceful pillars on either side the nave, with their beautiful pointed arches, above which rose the clerestory windows—with the exquisitely moulded roof enriched with sculptures and other appropriate ornaments—with the chantries—and with the splendidly carved screen separating the choir from the nave.
The choir itself, with its fine panelled roof and its thirty elaborately carved stalls—fifteen on each side—was reserved for the prince, and the nobles and chiefs with him.
These stalls, with their florid tabernacle work, gloriously carved canopies, and pendent pinnacles of extraordinary richness and beauty, were admirably adapted to the occasion. In front of the sedilia were book-desks, encircled with armorial bearings, cognisances, and monograms.
Around the chancel were several exquisite chantries, most of them possessing screens of rare workmanship; and in these chapels many important personages connected with the town, or belonging to the Jacobite party, were now assembled.
In the Lady chapel were some of the fellows of the church, who did not care to make themselves too conspicuous.
In the Jesus chantry were Dr. Byrom and his family, with Mr. Walley and Mr. Fowden; and in St. John's chapel were Dr. Deacon, Mr. Cattell, Mr. Clayton, and several others.
But not merely was the interior of the sacred fabric thronged, hundreds of persons who had failed to obtain admittance were collected outside.
Precisely at eleven o'clock, Prince Charles Edward, mounted on a richly caparisoned charger, preceded by a guard of honour, and attended by all the nobles and chieftains belonging to his army, rode up to the gates of the churchyard, where he alighted. A lane was formed for him by the spectators, through which he passed, and on entering the church by the south porch, he was ceremoniously conducted to the choir, where he took his seat in the warden's stall.
Next to him sat the Duke of Perth, and on the same side were ranged the Duke of Athole, Lord George Murray, Lord Kilmarnock, Lord Elcho, Lord Ogilvy, Lord Balmerino, and the Marquis d'Eguilles. In the opposite stalls were Lord Pitsligo, Lord Nairne, Lord Strathallan, General Gordon of Glenbucket, Colonel Ker, Secretary Murray, and Sir Thomas Sheridan.
From the stall occupied by the prince, which was the first on the right of the choir, and commanded the whole interior of the edifice, the coup-d'œil of the nave, with its compact mass of Highlanders, was splendid, and as Charles gazed at it, he was filled with stirring thoughts, that were softened down, however, by the solemn sounds of the organ pealing along the roof.
Of course the Protestant form of worship was adopted; but strict Romanist as he was, Charles allowed no symptom of disapproval to escape him, but listened devoutly to Mr. Shrigley, who performed the service admirably, being excited by the presence of the prince.
The reverend gentleman prayed for the king, but without naming the sovereign. All his hearers, however, knew that James the Third was meant.
Mr. Coppock was not so guarded. He prayed for James the Third, for Charles Prince of Wales, Regent of England, and for the Duke of York.
Taking for his text the words "Render unto Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's," he preached a most fiery sermon, in which he announced the speedy restoration of the Stuart dynasty, and the downfall of the House of Hanover.
Whatever might have been thought of this treasonable discourse by a certain portion of the congregation, no voice was raised against it. That it pleased the prince and his attendants was sufficient for the ambitious young divine.