VI. – LADY WEBB
ANNA Webb, who rode a capital horse, provided for her from the Bamborough stables, and was accompanied by Tom Forster and his sister, was greatly struck by the view of the castle at the end of the vista formed by the long avenue of chestnut trees; and if we may venture to reveal the secrets of her breast, we must state that she ardently desired to become the mistress of that stately mansion. Nor was this desire lessened when she entered the great quadrangular court and gazed around it.
Certain of a hearty welcome, Tom Forster rode in first, and cracked his hunting-whip loudly, as he passed through the gateway, to summon the servants. Newbiggin and three or four footmen rushed down the perron to meet him. He contented himself with announcing to the butler that he had come to dine with his lordship, and pass the night at the castle, and had brought Miss Forster and Sir John Webb and his family with him, and then jumping from the saddle, gave his horse to one of the servants. To his surprise, Newbiggin looked rather embarrassed.
“What! – not at home?” cried the squire.
“Oh, yes, his lordship is at the castle, but he is engaged on rather particular business,” replied the butler. “Some one is with him.”
“Oh, never mind!” cried the squire. “He’ll get his business done before dinner-time. Mr. Charles Radclyffe will take care of us.”
As he spoke, Dorothy and Anna rode into the court, and immediately afterwards the great lumbering coach followed.
After a moment’s consideration, Newbiggin made up his mind to admit them. Aware that Mr. Forster was a Jacobite, and also aware that Sir John Webb was a Roman Catholic and a staunch adherent of the Stuarts, he thought he couldn’t be doing wrong.
Accordingly, he flew to the carriage, and helped its occupants to alight, leaving the young ladies to the care of the grooms, and, by the time he had fulfilled his duties, Charles Radclyffe made his appearance with Father Nor-ham, and welcoming the party with great cordiality in his brother’s name, led them to the garden. Having brought them to the lawn, he left them there with Father Norham, and went in search of the earl.
If Anna had been pleased with what she had seen of the castle, she was quite enraptured now.
Never, she declared to Dorothy, had she beheld anything finer than the prospect from the terrace. What charming scenery! what a lovely park! what brown moors! what woods! And how well the Tyne looked in the distance!
She next praised the romantic beauty of the glen, with its trees, and rushing stream, and, above all, the picturesque old bridge.
In short, everything delighted her. And though she said least about it, she was, perhaps, best pleased with the mansion itself. It was larger and more imposing than she expected, and she again thought what a fine thing it would be to be mistress of such a splendid place.
Lady Webb was just as much struck with the castle and its surroundings as her daughter, and fondly hoped that she might soon have a stronger interest in the place. Her ladyship was conversing with Father Norham, and all she heard about the young earl heightened her desire to call him her son-in-law. Father Norham spoke with the greatest warmth of his lordship’s goodness of heart, noble qualities, and chivalrous character.
“He is like Bayard himself,” he said; “a chevalier without fear and without reproach.”
“With such a splendid mansion as this, and with such wealth as his lordship possesses, ‘tis a wonder he does not marry,” remarked Lady Webb.
“His lordship will never marry except for love,” replied the priest.
“That is perfectly consistent with the noble and disinterested character you have given him,” said Lady Webb. “But I should have thought,” she added, glancing towards Dorothy, “that a very charming young friend of ours might have touched his heart.”
“Apparently not,” replied Father Norham. “I myself should have been well pleased if such had been the case. But I do not think Lord Derwentwater will marry till our rightful king is restored.”
“Then he may have to wait long.” said her ladyship.
At this moment Charles Radclyffe made his appearance.
Seeing him return alone, Lady Webb and her daughter began to have some misgivings, but they were quickly set at rest by Charles, and a few minutes later his lordship himself was seen at the end of the terrace.
Lord Derwentwater was, of course, accompanied by the prince, but he left him at the further end of the lawn, and went quickly on alone to welcome his visitors.
Oh! how Anna’s heart fluttered as she beheld him.
His devoirs were first paid to Lady Webb, and then to the younger ladies. Dorothy was quite easy in her manner, and shook hands with him warmly, but Anna courtesied deeply to the formal bow he addressed to her. At the same time, the flush on her cheek betrayed the state of her feelings.
Lord Derwentwater could not fail to perceive this, and we doubt not he was much gratified by the discovery, but he was obliged to turn to the others.
Meanwhile, the prince had come up, and in compliance with the instructions he had received, Lord Derwentwater introduced him as Mr. Johnson – but without another word.
Sir John Webb bowed rather stiffly to the stranger, and Forster was scarcely more polite; indeed, very little notice was taken of him, except by the young ladies, both of whom were struck by his manner, and entered into conversation with him.
They soon found out that he was a person of distinction, and learning that he had only just come from France, felt sure he must be a messenger from the Chevalier de Saint George, and began to question him about the prince, displaying an interest in the cause, that could not but be agreeable to the hearer.
“I shall probably see the prince ere long,” said the Chevalier, “and will not fail to tell him what warm partisans he has among the ladies of Northumberland.”
“Tell him that Dorothy Forster, of Bamborough Castle, will do her best to aid him whenever he comes,” cried that young lady.
“Tell him that Anna Webb begins to think he never means to come at all, and fears he has forgotten his friends,” added the other.
“Both messages shall reach him, I promise you,” said the prince. “And when he learns how surpassingly beautiful are the two damsels who sent them he will be doubly gratified.”
“We need no compliments,” said Anna. “For my part I am out of patience with the prince.”
“Why so?”
“Because he neglects so many opportunities. He might be on the throne now, had he chosen.”
“The prince has neglected no chance. But you are not aware of the difficulties he has had to encounter.”
“I can partly guess them. But they are nothing. Were I in his place I would have made twenty attempts, and either have succeeded or perished.”
“I admire your spirit. But to win a kingdom, you must have an army. And the prince has no army.”
“He could have one very soon,” cried Anna.
“Yes, that is certain,” added Dorothy. “A small army could be raised in this county. Lord Derwentwater could bring five hundred men. And my brother, Mr. Forster could raise a troop.”
“Tell this to the prince, when you go back,” cried Anna. “Say that the Jacobite ladies of England are dying to behold him.”
“That will bring him, if anything will,” laughed the prince.
At this moment Lord Derwentwater came up, and said to Anna:
“May I ask what message you are sending to the prince?”
“That we are all tired of waiting for him,” she replied. “We have been so often disappointed, that we begin to think he will never come.”
“Then let me inform you that I have just received certain intelligence that his majesty is in England at this moment.”
Dorothy and Anna uttered exclamations of surprise and delight.
“You hear that, papa?” cried the latter to Sir John Webb. “Lord Derwentwater says that his majesty, King James the Third, is now in England. Is not that good news?”
“Wonderfully good news!” exclaimed Sir John. “Where has he landed?”
“I can’t tell you where he has landed,” cried Tom Forster, scarcely repressing a joyous shout. “But I can tell you where he is now. Since none of you have discovered him, I’ll be first to kiss hands.”
And rushing forward, he bent before the prince, who graciously extended his hand towards him.
On this there was a general movement towards the prince, who had now entirely changed his deportment, and received them all with dignified affability.
To Lady Webb he showed marked attention, and to each of the young ladies he had something pleasant to say, and soon relieved any uneasiness they might feel as to the freedom with which they had spoken to him.
This little ceremony over, he took Sir John Webb and Mr. Forster apart, and remained in earnest conversation with them for a few minutes.
He then returned to the ladies, and proposed a walk in the garden, to which they delightedly assented.
VII. – THE PROPOSAL
The gardens at Dilston, though somewhat formally laid out, as previously mentioned, were very beautiful, and were just then in perfection. The prince admired them very much, and of course everybody else was enchanted.
After wandering about for some time – now stopping to look at one object, now at another – the prince walked on with Lady Webb, and the party began to disperse, moving about in different directions.
Somehow or other, Lord Derwentwater found himself alone with Anna. He looked about for Dorothy, but she was a long way off with Charles Radclyffe, and no one was near them.
Close to where they stood was a rustic bench, shaded by a tree, and saying she felt a little fatigued, Anna sat down. Lord Derwentwater could not do otherwise than take a place beside her.
We will not say what thoughts agitated her breast, but she felt that the critical moment had arrived, and trembled lest any interruption should occur before the word was uttered that might decide her fate.
She did not look at the lovely parterre of flowers before her – nor listen to the plashing of the fountain – she heard nothing – saw nothing. But the accents she longed for were not breathed, and Lord Derwentwater remained silent. Why did he not speak?
Fearing the moment might pass, she raised her magnificent eyes, which had been thrown upon the ground, and fixed them full upon him.
Though he spoke not, he had been watching her, and the glance he now encountered pierced his breast. How much was conveyed in that long, passionate look! How eloquent was the earl’s reply! An instantaneous revelation was made to each of the state of the other’s heart. No longer any doubt. He knew she loved him. She felt he was won.
Yet, as if to make assurance doubly sure, he took her hand. She did not withdraw it, and still gazing tenderly at her, he said in a low voice, but which was distinctly audible:
“Can you love me, Anna?”
Her glance became even more passionate, as she answered:
“I can – I do.”
“Will you be mine, then?” demanded the earl, passing his arm round her waist, and drawing her towards him.
Her reply must have been in the affirmative, yet it was almost stifled by the kiss imprinted on her lips.
He had only just released her from this fond embrace, when they became conscious that they were not unobserved.
So engrossed were they by each other that they had not hitherto noticed the prince and Lady Webb on the further side of the lawn.
Lord Derwentwater, in a moment, decided on the course he ought to pursue.
“Come with me,” he said to Anna.
And, taking her hand, he led her towards her mother, whose feelings of pride and satisfaction may be easily imagined when the announcement was made, and her consent asked to their union.
But it was asked in a manner that does not belong to the present age, and her consent was given with equal formality, and accompanied by a blessing.
As they arose from their half-kneeling posture, the prince embraced the earl, and said to him:
“Accept my sincere congratulations, cousin. Lovelier bride you could not have found, and in every other respect she is worthy of you. And you, fair damsel,” he added to Anna, who blushed deeply at the high compliments paid her, “you may likewise be heartily congratulated on your good fortune. You have won a husband as noble by nature as he is by birth. All happiness attend you!”
These gracious observations produced a strong effect on the young pair to whom they were addressed.
The prince did not, however, tarry for their thanks, but hastened away, saying he desired to be first to communicate the joyful intelligence to Sir John Webb.
The rest of the party were assembled on the terrace, and when they saw the prince approaching, and noticed the peculiar expression of his countenance, some suspicion of the truth crossed them.
Sir John, therefore, was not surprised, though secretly enchanted, when a sign was given them to come forward, and, on obeying it, he learnt from his highness’s lips what had occurred. He did not attempt to disguise his satisfaction, and his loud exclamations soon let the rest of the party into the secret.
That the news was perfectly agreeable to all the others cannot be asserted. The hopes of Tom Forster and his charming sister were annihilated. But since the blow had fallen, it must be borne. So they concealed their disappointment with a smile.
We are not quite sure that Charles Radclyffe was anxious that the earl should marry, as his own position in the house might be changed by the event; but, at all events, he looked pleased. And Father Norham, who had an almost paternal affection for his noble patron, was certainly pleased, for he believed Lord Derwentwater had taken a wise step.
Sir John Webb, who had been made the happiest of men by the success of his wife’s scheme, hurried off to embrace his daughter and the earl, and give them his blessing, and all the others followed to witness the scene.
Again certain painful feelings were stirred in the breasts of Forster and his sister, but these were controlled, and all went off very well.
A proposition was next made by the prince, that met with ready acceptance from all concerned. It was that the earl and his chosen bride should be solemnly contracted together on the morrow.
“Lord Derwentwater and myself were brought up together like brothers,” he said. “Long ago, I promised to find him a wife. He has now found one for himself, and I entirely approve his choice. Since I can scarce hope to be present at his lordship’s marriage, it will be specially agreeable to me to witness his betrothal.”
This intimation was quite sufficient, and it was arranged that the ceremony should be performed by Father Nor-ham, and should take place, next morning, in the little chapel.
VIII. – COLONEL OXBURGH AND HIS COMPANIONS
M eanwhile, another arrival had taken place at the castle.
A party of horsemen, all well mounted, and well armed, rode into the court-yard, and claimed the earl’s hospitality, which could not be refused.
The party consisted of half a dozen Roman Catholic gentlemen – staunch Jacobites – who had banded together, and were in the habit of riding about the country to see how matters stood – sometimes stopping at one house, sometimes at another – and always heartily welcome, wherever they went.
The leader of the party was Colonel Oxburgh, who had fought and distinguished himself under James the Second. His companions were Captain Nicholas Wogan, Charles Wogan, and three other Jacobite gentlemen, named Talbot, Clifton, and Beaumont. They had pistols in their holsters, and swords at the side, and presented a very formidable appearance, as they rode together.
Colonel Oxburgh was an elderly man, but in possession of all his energies, and expected a command, if a rising should take place in favour of James the Third. He was tall and well-built, and though equipped in a plain riding-suit, had an unmistakable military air.
His companions were very much younger, and all of them looked like gentlemen – as indeed they were – the most noticeable being the two Wogans. Both of these young men were very good-looking, and graceful in figure. Captain Wogan had a very interesting countenance. As they had no servants with them, each carried a small valise attached to his saddle.
Colonel Oxburgh was an old friend of Sir John Webb – indeed, they had served together in Ireland – and, wishing to see him before he left the North, he was proceeding to Bamborough Castle with that object, when he learnt that Sir John and his family had just taken their departure, but meant to halt at Dilston. Thereupon, the colonel changed his course, and went to the latter place.
On his arrival, his first inquiries were whether Sir John was there, and, being quickly satisfied on this point by Newbiggin, he dismounted, and his companions followed his example. The horses were taken to the stables, and the bags ordered to be brought into the house, as if it had been an inn, and while this was being done, the colonel again addressed Newbiggin, and asked if there was any other company at the castle.
The butler smiled significantly.
“We have a very important person indeed here, colonel,” he said. “I need keep no secret from you and your friends, because you are all loyal. What will you say, gentlemen,” addressing the whole party, “when I tell you that the Chevalier de Saint George is here?”
“I should say the statement is scarcely likely to be correct, my good friend,” rejoined the colonel, dryly. “You are jesting with us.”
“‘Tis true, I assure you, colonel,” said Newbiggin. “His majesty is at Dilston at this moment. You will soon be convinced of the fact.”
“I am convinced now,” cried Colonel Oxburgh. “But you cannot wonder at my incredulity, and you see it was shared by all my friends. Since such is the case, gentlemen,” he added, turning to the others, “we must remain where we are for a few minutes. We must not present ourselves to the king till we learn that it is his majesty’s pleasure to receive us.”
“I have no doubt upon the point, colonel,” said the butler; “and I will venture to take you to his majesty at once, if you will allow me.”
The punctilious colonel, however, could not be moved from his position, nor would he enter the house, so New-biggin was obliged to leave him and his friends in order to make the necessary announcement.
Ere long, Lord Derwentwater appeared, and welcomed them with the utmost cordiality, stating at the same time that his majesty would be delighted to receive them.
His lordship then conducted them to the garden, and presented them to the prince, who accorded them a most gratifying reception, shaking hands with Colonel Oxburgh, and treating him like an old friend.
“I have often heard the king, my father, speak of you, colonel,” he said; “and always with regard. He was deeply sensible of your attachment to him.”
“The attachment I ever felt towards his majesty is now transferred to his son,” replied the colonel, laying his hand upon his heart. “I only hope the time has come when I can prove my loyalty and devotion.”
“We will talk of that anon, my dear colonel,” replied the prince.
And he then addressed himself to the others, to each of whom he had something agreeable to say. His highness seemed particularly pleased with Captain Wogan.
While this was going on, Colonel Oxburgh exchanged a greeting with Sir John Webb and Forster, nor did he omit to pay his devoirs to Lady Webb and the younger ladies.
IX. – CONFESSION
Feeling that their presence might be some restraint upon the meeting, the ladies soon afterwards withdrew, and entered the house, accompanied by Father Norham.
As soon as they were alone together, Lady Webb embraced her daughter with more than her customary warmth, and again congratulated her on her good fortune.
“You are now in the most enviable position in which a girl can be placed,” she said. “You have obtained as a husband one of the richest and most powerful nobles in the land, and who, in addition to these recommendations, has youth, good looks, and extreme amiability. Could you desire more?”
“No, dearest mamma,” she replied. “I ought to be grateful, and I am grateful. I do not deserve so much. I ought to return thanks to Heaven for its great goodness towards me. I should like to see Father Norham alone.”
“I entirely approve of your resolution, my dear child,” replied her mother. “Remain here. I will send the holy father to you.”
She then left her, and the interval between her departure and the good priest’s appearance was passed in prayer.
Father Norham found her on her knees before a small image of the Blessed Virgin, which was in the room, and did not interrupt her.
When she arose, he expressed his great satisfaction at finding her thus employed.
“I am now certain his lordship has chosen well,” he said.
“I hope he will never regret the step he has taken, father,” she rejoined.
“Strive earnestly to make him happy, dear daughter, and you cannot fail,” said the priest. “Have you aught to say to me?”
“I desire to disburden my conscience, father,” she replied. “I have not much upon it, but I shall feel easier when I have spoken.”
“You will do well, daughter,” he said.
He then sat down, and she knelt beside him, and cleared her breast of all that weighed upon it.
It was not more than many a maiden would have to avow, but the good father was strict, and imposed a slight penance upon her.
“You must debar yourself from the society of him you love till to-morrow,” he said.
She uttered an exclamation, but the priest went on:
“For the rest of the day you must remain in the seclusion of this chamber, so that your thoughts may be undisturbed. Part of the night must be passed in vigil and prayer. This will be a fitting preparation for the ceremony you are about to go through.”
“What will Lord Derwentwater think, father?” she asked uneasily.
“I will take care he receives such explanation as may be necessary,” he replied. “But I again enjoin solitude and reflection. Later on, I will take you to the chapel, where your vigils must be kept till midnight. Promise me not to quit this room, without my sanction.”
“I will obey you, father,” she rejoined.