A REPUTED CHANGELING, or, THREE SEVENTH YEARS TWO CENTURIES AGO

PREFACE

I do not think I have here forced the hand of history except bygiving Portchester to two imaginary Rectors, and by a littleinjustice to her whom Princess Anne termed 'the brick-bat woman. '

The trial is not according to present rules, but precedents for itsirregularities are to be found in the doings of the seventeenthcentury, notably in the trial of Spencer Cowper by the same JudgeHatsel, and I have done my best to represent the habits of thosecountry gentry who were not infected by the evils of the laterStewart reigns. 

There is some doubt as to the proper spelling of Portchester, but, judging by analogy, the t ought not to be omitted. 

C. M. YONGE. 2d May 1889. 

CHAPTER I: THE EXPERIENCES OF GOODY MADGE

"Dear Madam, think me not to blame;Invisible the fairy came. Your precious babe is hence conveyed, And in its place a changeling laid. Where are the father's mouth and nose, The mother's eyes as black as sloes?See here, a shocking awkward creature, That speaks a fool in every feature. "

GAY. 

"He is an ugly ill-favoured boy--just like Riquet a la Houppe. "

"That he is! Do you not know that he is a changeling?"

Such were the words of two little girls walking home from a schoolfor young ladies kept, at the Cathedral city of Winchester, by twoFrenchwomen of quality, refugees from the persecutions preluding theRevocation of the Edict of Nantes, and who enlivened the studies oftheir pupils with the Contes de Commere L'Oie. 

The first speaker was Anne Jacobina Woodford, who had recently comewith her mother, the widow of a brave naval officer, to live withher uncle, the Prebendary then in residence. The other was LucyArchfield, daughter to a knight, whose home was a few miles fromPortchester, Dr. Woodford's parish on the southern coast ofHampshire. 

In the seventeenth century, when roads were mere ditches oftenimpassable, and country-houses frequently became entirely isolatedin the winter, it was usual with the wealthier county families tomove into their local capital, where some owned mansions and othershired prebendal houses, or went into lodgings in the roomy dwellingsof the superior tradesmen. For the elders this was the season ofsocial intercourse, for the young people, of education. 

The two girls, who were about eight years old, had struck up a rapidfriendship, and were walking hand in hand to the Close attended bythe nurse in charge of Mistress Lucy. This little lady wore a blacksilk hood and cape, trimmed with light brown fur, and lined withpink, while Anne Woodford, being still in mourning for her father, was wrapped in a black cloak, unrelieved except by the white borderof her round cap, fringed by fair curls, contrasting with her browneyes. She was taller and had a more upright bearing of head andneck, with more promise of beauty than her companion, who was muchmore countrified and would not have been taken for the child ofhigher station. 

They had traversed the graveyard of the Cathedral, and were passingthrough a narrow archway known as the Slype, between the south-western angle of the Cathedral and a heavy mass of old masonryforming part of the garden wall of the present abode of theArchfield family, when suddenly both children stumbled and fell, while an elfish peal of laughter sounded behind them. 

Lucy came down uppermost, and was scarcely hurt, but Anne had fallenprone, striking her chin on the ground, so as to make her bite herlip, and bruising knees and elbows severely. Nurse detected thecause of the fall so as to avoid it herself. It was a cord fastenedacross the archway, close to the ground, and another shout ofderision greeted the discovery; while Lucy, regaining her feet, beheld for a moment a weird exulting grimace on a visage peepingover a neighbouring headstone. 

"It is he! it is he! The wicked imp! There's no peace for him! Isay, " she screamed, "see if you don't get a sound flogging!" and sheclenched her little fist as the provoking "Ho! ho! ho!" rang fartherand farther off. "Don't cry, Anne dear; the Dean and Chapter shalltake order with him, and he shall be soundly beaten. Are you hurt?O nurse, her mouth is all blood. "

"I hope she has not broken a tooth, " said nurse, who had beenattending to the sobbing child. "Come in, my lamb, we will washyour face, and make you well. "

Anne, blinded with tears, jarred, bruised, bleeding, and bewildered, submitted to be led by kind nurse the more willingly because sheknew that her mother, together with all the quality, were at SirThomas Charnock's. They had dined at the fashionable hour of two, and were to stay till supper-time, the elders playing at Ombre, thejuniors dancing. As a rule the ordinary clergy did not associatewith the county families, but Dr. Woodford was of good birth and aroyal chaplain, and his deceased brother had been a favouriteofficer of the Duke of York, and had been so severely wounded by hisside in the battle of Southwold as to be permanently disabled. Indeed Anne Jacobina was godchild to the Duke and his first Duchess, whose favoured attendant her mother had been. Thus Mrs. Woodfordwas in great request, and though she had not hitherto gone intocompany since her widowhood, she had yielded to Lady Charnock'sentreaty that she would come and show her how to deal with thatstrange new Chinese infusion, a costly packet of which had beenbrought to her from town by Sir Thomas, as the Queen's favouritebeverage, wherewith the ladies of the place were to be regaled andastonished. 

It had been already arranged that the two little girls should spendthe evening together, and as they entered the garden before thehouse a rude voice exclaimed, "Holloa! London Nan whimpering. Hasmy fine lady met a spider or a cow?" and a big rough lad of twelve, in a college gown, spread out his arms, and danced up and down inthe doorway to bar the entrance. 

"Don't, Sedley, " said a sturdy but more gentlemanlike lad of thesame age, thrusting him aside. "Is she hurt? What is it?"

"That spiteful imp, Peregrine Oakshott, " said Lucy passionately. "He had a cord across the Slype to trip us up. I heard him laughinglike a hobgoblin, and saw him too, grinning over a tombstone likethe malicious elf he is. "

The college boy uttered a horse laugh, which made Lucy cry, "CousinSedley, you are as bad!" but the other boy was saying, "Don't cry, Anne None-so-pretty. I'll give it him well! Though I'm younger, I'm bigger, and I'll show him reason for not meddling with my littlesweetheart. "

"Have with you then!" shouted Sedley, ready for a fray on whateverpretext, and off they rushed, as nurse led little Anne up the broadshallow steps of the dark oak staircase, but Lucy stood laughingwith exultation in the intended vengeance, as her brother took downher father's hunting-whip. 

"He must be wellnigh a fiend to play such wicked pranks under thevery Minster!" she said. 

"And a rascal of a Whig, and that's worse, " added Charles; "but I'llhave it out of him!"

"Take care, Charley; if you offend him, and he does really belong tothose--those creatures"--Lucy lowered her voice--"who knows whatthey might do to you?"

Charles laughed long and loud. "I'll take care of that, " he said, swinging out at the door. "Elf or no elf, he shall learn what it isto play off his tricks on _my_ sister and my little sweetheart. "

Lucy betook herself to the nursery, where Anne was being comforted, her bleeding lip washed with essence, and repaired with a pinch ofbeaver from a hat, and her other bruises healed with lily leavessteeped in strong waters. 

"Charley is gone to serve him out!" announced Lucy as the sovereignremedy. 

"Oh, but perhaps he did not mean it, " Anne tried to say. 

"Mean it? Small question of that, the cankered young slip! Nurse, do you think those he belongs to can do Charley any harm if heangers them?"

"I cannot say, missie. Only 'tis well we be not at home, or theremight be elf knots in the horses' manes to-night. I doubt mewhether _that sort_ can do much hurt here, seeing as 'tis holyground. "

"But is he really a changeling? I thought there were no such thingsas--"

"Hist, hist, Missie Anne!" cried the dame; "'tis not good to namethem. "

"Oh, but we are on the Minster ground, nurse, " said Lucy, tremblinga little however, looking over her shoulder, and coming closer tothe old servant. 

"Why do they think so?" asked Anne. "Is it because he is so uglyand mischievous and rude? Not like boys in London. "

"Prithee, nurse, tell her the tale, " entreated Lucy, who had madelarge eyes over it many a time before. 

"Ay, and who should tell you all about it save me, who had it allfrom Goody Madge Bulpett, as saw it all!"

"Goody Madge! It was she that came when poor little Kitty was bornand died, " suggested Lucy, as Anne, laying her aching head uponnurse's knees, prepared to listen to the story. 

"Well, deary darlings, you see poor Madam Oakshott never had herhealth since the Great Fire in London, when she was biding with herkinsfolk to be near Major Oakshott, who had got into trouble aboutsome of his nonconforming doings. The poor lady had a mortal frightbefore she could be got out of Gracechurch Street as was all of ablaze, and she was so afeard of her husband being burnt as he lay inNewgate that she could scarce be got away, and whether it was that, or that she caught cold lying out in a tent on Highgate Hill, shehas never had a day's health since. "

"And the gentleman--her husband?" asked Anne. 

"They all broke prison, poor fellows, as they had need to do, andthe Major's time was nearly up. He made himself busy in saving andhelping the folk in the streets; and his brother, Sir Peregrine, whowas thick with the King, and is in foreign parts now, took thechance to speak of the poor lady's plight and say it would be thedeath of her if he could not get his discharge, and his Majesty, bless his kind heart, gave the order at once. So they took madamhome to the Chace, but she has been but an ailing body ever since. "

"But the fairy, the fairy, how did she change the babe?" cried Anne. 

"Hush, hush, dearie! name them not. I am coming to it all in goodtime. I was telling you how the poor lady failed and pined fromthat hour, and was like to die. My gossip Madge told me how when, next Midsummer, this unlucky babe was born they had to take him fromher chamber at once because any sound of crying made her start inher sleep, and shriek that she heard a poor child wailing who hadbeen left in a burning house. Moll Owens, the hind's wife, a comelylass, was to nurse him, and they had him at once to her in thenursery, where was the elder child, two years old, Master Oliver, asyou know well, Mistress Lucy, a fine-grown, sturdy little Turk asever was. "

"Yes, I know him, " answered Lucy; "and if his brother's achangeling, he is a bear! The Whig bear is what Charley calls him. "

"Well, what does that child do but trot out of the nursery, and tryto scramble down the stairs. --Never tell me but that they you wot oftrained him out--not that they had power over a Christian child, butthat they might work their will on the little one. So they mustneeds trip him up, so that he rolled down the stair hollering andsqualling all the way enough to bring the house down, and his poorlady mother, she woke up in a fit. The womenfolk ran, Molly andall, she being but a slip of a girl herself and giddy-pated, andwhen they came back after quieting Master Oliver, the babe waschanged. "

"Then they didn't see the--"

"Hush, hush, missie! no one never sees 'em or they couldn't donothing. They cannot, if a body is looking. But what had been aslikely a child before as you would wish to handle was gone! Thepoor little mouth was all of a twist, and his eyelid drooped, and henever ceased mourn, mourn, mourn, wail, wail, wail, day and night, and whatever food he took he never was satisfied, but pined andpeaked and dwined from day to day, so as his little legs was likeknitting pins. The lady was nigh upon death as it seemed, so thatno one took note of the child at first, but when Madge had time tolook at him, she saw how it was, as plain as plain could be, andtold his father. But men are unbelieving, my dears, and alwaysthink they know better than them as has the best right, and MajorOakshott would hear of no such thing, only if the boy was like todie, he must be christened. Well, Madge knew that sometimes theyflee at touch of holy water, but no; though the thing mourned andmoaned enough to curdle your blood and screeched out when the watertouched him, there he was the same puny little canker. So whenmadam was better, and began to fret over the child that was nighupon three months old, and no bigger than a newborn babe, Madge upand told her how it was, and the way to get her own again. "

"What was that, nurse?"

"There be different ways, my dear. Madge always held to breakingfive and twenty eggs and have a pot boiling on a good sea-coal firewith the poker in it red hot, and then drop the shells in one byone, in sight of the creature in the cradle. Presently it will upand ask whatever you are about. Then you gets the poker in yourhand as you says, "A-brewing of egg shells. " Then it says, "I'mforty hundred years old and odd, and yet I never heard of a-brewingof egg shells. " Then you ups with the poker and at him to thrust itdown his ugly throat, and there's a hissing and a whirling, and heis snatched away, and the real darling, all plump and rosy, is putback in the cradle. "

"And did they?"

"No, my dears. Madam was that soft-hearted she could not bring hermind to it, though they promised her not to touch him unless hespoke. But nigh on two years later, Master Robert was born, as fineand lusty and straight-limbed as a chrisom could be, while the othercould not walk a step, but sat himself about on the floor, a-moaningand a-fretting with the legs of him for all the world like thedrumsticks of a fowl, and his hands like claws, and his face wizenedup like an old gaffer of a hundred, or the jackanapes that MartinBoats'n brought from Barbary. So after a while madam saw the rightsof it, and gave consent that means should be taken as Madge andother wise folk would have it; but he was too old by that time forthe egg shells, for he could talk, talk, and ask questions enough todrive you wild. So they took him out under the privet hedge, Madgeand her gossip Deborah Clint, and had got his clothes off to floghim with nettles till they changed him, when the ill-favoured elfbegan to squall and shriek like a whole litter of pigs, and as illluck would have it, the master was within hearing, though they hadwatched him safe off to one of his own 'venticles, but it seemsthere had been warning that the justices were on the look-out, sohome he came. And behold, the thing that never knew the use of hisfeet before, ups and flies at him, and lays hold of his leg, hollering out, "Sir, father, don't let them, " and what not. So thenit was all over with them, as though that were not proof enow whatmanner of thing it was! Madge tried to put him off with washingwith yarbs being good for the limbs, but when he saw that Deb wasthere, he saith, saith he, as grim as may be, "Thou shalt not suffera witch to live, " which was hard, for she is but a white witch; andhe stormed and raved at them with Bible texts, and then he vowed(men are so headstrong, my dears) that if ever he ketched them at itagain, he would see Deb burnt for a witch at the stake, and Madgehung for the murder of the child, and he is well known to be a manof his word. So they had to leave him to abide by his bargain, anda sore handful he has of it. "

Anne drew a long sigh and asked whether the real boy in fairylandwould never come back. 

"There's no telling, missie dear. Some say they are bound there forever and a day, some that they as holds 'em are bound to bring themback for a night once in seven years, and in the old times if theywas sprinkled with holy water, and crossed, they would stay, butthere's no such thing as holy water now, save among the Papists, andif one knew the way to cross oneself, it would be as much as one'slife was worth. "

"If Peregrine was to die, " suggested Lucy. 

"Bless your heart, dearie, he'll never die! When the true one'stime comes, you'll see, if so be you be alive to see it, as Heavengrant, he will go off like the flame of a candle and nothing be leftin his place but a bit of a withered sting nettle. But come, mysweetings, 'tis time I got your supper. I'll put some nice rosy-cheeked apples down to roast, to be soft for Mistress Woodford'ssore mouth. "

Before the apples were roasted, Charles Archfield and his cousin, the colleger Sedley Archfield, a big boy in a black cloth gown, camein with news of having--together with the other boys, includingOliver and Robert Oakshott--hunted Peregrine all round the Close, but he ran like a lapwing, and when they had pinned him up in thecorner by Dr. Ken's house, he slipped through their fingers up theivy, and grinned at them over the wall like the imp he was. Nollsaid it was always the way, he was no more to be caught than a bitof thistledown, but Sedley meant to call out all the college boysand hunt and bait him down like a badger on 'Hills. '

CHAPTER II: HIGH TREASON

"Whate'er it be that is within his reach, The filching trick he doth his fingers teach. "

Robin Badfellow. 

There was often a considerable distance between children and theirparents in the seventeenth century, but Anne Woodford, as the onlychild of her widowed mother, was as solace, comfort, and companion;and on her pillow in early morning the child poured forth in graveearnest the entire story of the changeling, asking whether he couldnot be "taken to good Dr. Ken, or the Dean, or the Bishop to be ex--ex--what is it, mother? Not whipped with nettles. Oh no! nor burntwith red hot pokers, but have holy words said so that the right onemay come back. "

"My dear child, did you really believe that old nurse's tale?"

"O madam, she _knew_ it. The other old woman saw it! I alwaysthought fairies and elves were only in tales, but Lucy's nurse knowsit is true. And _he_ is not a bit like other lads, mamma dear. Heis lean and small, and his eyes are of different colours, look twoways at once, and his mouth goes awry when he speaks, and he laughsjust like--like a fiend. Lucy and I call him Riquet a la Houppe, because he is just like the picture in Mademoiselle's book, with agreat stubbly bunch of hair sticking out on one side, and though hewalks a little lame, he can hop and skip like a grasshopper, fasterthan any of the boys, and leap up a wall in a moment, and grin--ohmost frightfully. Have you ever seen him, mamma?"

"I think so. I saw a poor boy, who seemed to me to have had astroke of some sort when he was an infant. "

"But, madam, that would not make him so spiteful and malicious!"

"If every one is against him and treats him as a wicked mischievouself, it is only too likely to make him bitter and spiteful. Nay, Anne, if you come back stuffed with old wives' tales, I shall notallow you to go home with Lucy Archfield. "

The threat silenced Anne, who was a grave and rather silent littleperson, and when she mentioned it to her friend, the answer was, "Did you tell your mother? If I had told mine, I should have beenwhipped for repeating lying tales. "

"Oh then you don't believe it!"

"It must be true, for Madge knew it. But that's the way always ifone lets out that one knows more than they think. "

"It is not the way with my mother, " stoutly said Anne, drawing upher dignified little head. And she kept her resolution, for thougha little excited by her first taste of lively youthfulcompanionship, she was naturally a thoughtful reticent child, with acharacter advanced by companionship with her mother as an onlychild, through a great sorrow. Thus she was in every respect moredeveloped than her contemporary Lucy, who regarded her with wonderas well as affection, and she was the object of the boyish devotionof Charley, who often defended her from his cousin Sedley'sendeavours to put down what he considered upstart airs in a littlenobody from London. Sedley teased and baited every weak thing inhis way, and Lucy had been his chief butt till Anne Woodford'sunconscious dignity and more cultivated manners excited his utmostspleen. 

Lucy might be incredulous, but she was eager to tell that when hercousin Sedley Archfield was going back to 'chambers, ' down from theClose gate came the imp on his shoulders in the twilight and twistedboth legs round his neck, holding tight on in spite of plunges, pinches, and endeavours to scrape him off against the wall, whichwere frustrated or retaliated by hair pulling, choking, till justere entering the college gateway, where Sedley looked to get hisrevenge among his fellows, he found his shoulders free, and heard"Ho! ho! ho!" from the top of a wall close at hand. All the morewas the young people's faith in the changeling story confirmed, andchild-world was in those days even more impenetrable to their eldersthan at present. 

Changeling or no, it was certain that Peregrine Oakshott was theplague of the Close, where his father, an ex-officer of theParliamentary army, had unwillingly hired a house for the winter, for the sake of medical treatment for his wife, a sufferer from acomplication of ailments. Oakwood, his home, was about five milesfrom Dr. Woodford's living of Portchester, and as the families wouldthus be country neighbours, Mrs. Woodford thought it well to beginthe acquaintance at Winchester. While knocking at the door of thehouse on the opposite side of the Close, she was aware of an elfishvisage peering from an upper window. There was the queer mop ofdark hair, the squinting light eyes, the contorted grin crooking themouth, the odd sallow face, making her quite glad to get out ofsight of the strange grimaces which grew every moment more hideous. 

Mrs. Oakshott sat in an arm-chair beside a large fire in awainscotted room, with a folding-screen shutting off the window. Her spinning-wheel was near, but it was only too plain that 'feeblewas the hand, and silly the thread. ' She bent her head in itswadded black velvet hood, but excused herself from rising, as shewas crippled by rheumatic pains. She had evidently once been apretty little person, innocent and inane, and her face had becomelike that of a withered baby, piteous in its expression of pain andweariness, but otherwise somewhat vacant. At first, indeed, therewas a look of alarm. Perhaps she expected every visitor to comewith a complaint of her unlucky Peregrine, but when Mrs. Woodfordspoke cheerfully of being her neighbour in the country, she wasevidently relieved and even gratified, prattling in a soft plaintivetone about her sufferings and the various remedies, ranging fromwoodlice rolled into natural pills, and grease off the church bells, to diamond dust and Goa stones, since, as she said, there was nocost to which Major Oakshott would not go for her benefit. He hadeven procured for her a pound of the Queen's new Chinese herb, andit certainly was as nauseous as could be wished, when boiled inmilk, but she was told that was not the way it was taken at my LadyCharnock's. She was quite animated when Mrs. Woodford offered toshow her how to prepare it. 

Therewith the master of the house came in, and the aspect of affairschanged. He was a tall, dark, grave man, plainly though handsomelydressed, and in a gentlemanly way making it evident that visits tohis wife were not welcome. He said that her health never permittedher to go abroad, and that his poor house contained nothing thatcould please a Court lady. Mrs. Oakshott shrank into herself, andbecame shy and silent, and Mrs. Woodford felt constrained to takeleave, courteously conducted to the door by her unwilling host. 

She had not taken many steps before she was startled by a sharpshower from a squirt coming sidelong like a blow on her cheek andsurprising her into a low cry, which was heard by the Major, so thathe hastened out, exclaiming, "Madam, I trust that you are not hurt. "

"Oh no, sir! It is nothing--not a stone--only water!" she said, wiping it with her handkerchief. 

"I am grieved and ashamed at the evil pranks of my unhappy son, buthe shall suffer for it. "

"Nay, sir, I pray you. It was only childish mischief. "

He had not waited to hear her pleadings, and before she was halfacross the Close he had overtaken her, dragging the coweringstruggling boy in his powerful grasp. 

"Now, Peregrine, " he commanded, "let me instantly hear you ask thelady's pardon for your dastardly trick. Or--!" and his other handwas raised for a blow. 

"I am sure he is sorry, " said Mrs. Woodford, making a motion to wardoff the stroke, and as the queer eyes glanced up at her in wonderinginquiry, she laid her hand on the bony shoulder, saying, "I know youdid not mean to hurt me. You are sorry, are you not?"

"Ay, " the boy muttered, and she saw a look of surprise on hisfather's face. 

"There, " she said, "he has made his amends, and surely that maysuffice. "

"Nay, madam, it would be a weak and ungodly tenderness that wouldspare to drive forth the evil spirit which possesses the child bythe use of the rod. I should fail in my duty alike to God and man, "he added, in reply to a fresh gesture of intercession, "did I notteach him what it is to insult a lady at mine own door. "

Mrs. Woodford could only go away, heartily sorry for the boy. Fromthat time, however, both she and her little daughter were untouchedby his tricks, though every one else had some complaint. Peas wereshot from unknown recesses at venerable canons, mice darted outbefore shrieking ladies, frogs' clammy forms descended on the napeof their necks, hedgehogs were curled up on their chairs, and thoughPeregrine Oakshott was not often caught in the act, no mischief evertook place that was not attributed to him; and it was popularlybelieved in the Close that his father flogged him every morning forwhat he was about to do, and his tutor repeated the castigationevery evening for what he had done, besides interludes at eachdetection. 

Perhaps frequent usage had toughened his skin, or he had becomeexpert in wriggling from the full force of the blow, or else, asmany believed, the elfish nature was impervious; for he was as readyas ever for a trick the moment he was released, like, as his brothersaid, the dog Keeper, who, with a slaughtered chick hung round hisneck in penance, rushed murderously upon the rest of the brood. 

Yet Mrs. Woodford, on her way through the Cathedral nave, was awareof something leaning against one of the great columns, crouchingtogether so that the dark head, supported on the arms, restedagainst the pillar which fluted the pier. The organ was pealingsoftly and plaintively, and the little gray coat seemed to heave aswith a sob. She stood, impelled to offer to take him with her intothe choir, but a verger, spying him, began rating him in a tone fitfor expelling a dog, "Come, master, none of your pranks here! Benot you ashamed of yourself to be lying in wait for godly folk ontheir way to prayers? If I catch you here again the Dean shall hearof it, and you shall smart for it. "

Mrs. Woodford began, "He was only hearkening to the music, " but shecaught such a look of malignity cast upon the verger as perfectlyappalled her, and in another moment the boy had dashed, head overheels, out at the nearest door. 

The next report that reached her related how a cloud of lime hadsuddenly descended from a broken arch of the cloister on the solemnverger, on his way to escort the Dean to the Minster, powdering hiswig, whitening his black gown from collar to hem, and not a littleendangering his eyesight. 

The culprit eluded all pursuit on this occasion; but Mrs. Woodfordsoon after was told that the Major had caught Peregrine listening atthe little south door of the choir, had collared him, and floggedhim worse than ever, for being seduced by the sounds of the popishand idolatrous worship, and had told all his sons that the likechastisement awaited them if they presumed to cross the threshold ofthe steeple house. 

Nevertheless the Senior Prefect of the college boys, when about tocome out of the Cathedral on Sunday morning, found his gown pinnedwith a skewer so fast to the seat that he was only set free at theexpense of a rent. Public opinion decided that the deed had beendone by the imp of Oakshott, and accordingly the whole of theWykeham scholars set on him with hue and cry the first time they sawhim outside the Close, and hunted him as far as St. Cross, where hesuddenly and utterly vanished from their sight. 

Mrs. Woodford agreed with Anne that it was a very strange story. For how could he have been in the Cathedral at service time when itwas well known that Major Oakshott had all his family together athis own form of worship in his house? Anne, who had been in hopesthat her mother would be thus convinced of his supernatural powers, looked disappointed, but she had afterwards to confess that CharlesArchfield had found out that it was his cousin Sedley Archfield whohad played the audacious trick, in revenge for a well-meritedtunding from the Prefect. 

"And then saddled it on young Oakshott?" asked her mother. 

"Charley says one such matter more or less makes no odds to the Whigape; but I cannot endure Sedley Archfield, mamma. "

"If he lets another lad bear the blame of his malice he cannotindeed be a good lad. "

"So Charley and Lucy say, " returned Anne. "We shall be glad to beaway from Winchester, for while Peregrine Oakshott torments slyly, Sedley Archfield loves to frighten us openly, and to hurt us to seehow much we can bear, and if Charley tries to stand up for us, Sedley calls him a puny wench, and a milksop, and knocks him down. But, dear madam, pray do not tell what I have said to her ladyship, for there is no knowing what Sedley would do to us. "

"My little maid has not known before what boys can be!"

"No; but indeed Charles Archfield is quite different, almost as ifhe had been bred in London. He is a very gentleman. He never isrude to any girl, and he is courteous and gentle and kind. Hegathered walnuts for us yesterday, and cracked all mine, and I am tomake him a purse with two of the shells. "

Mrs. Woodford smiled, but there was a short thrill of anxiety in hermotherly heart as her glance brought up a deeper colour into Anne'scheeks. There was a reserve to bring that glow, for the child knewthat if she durst say that Charles called her his little sweetheartand wife, and that the walnut-shell purse would be kept as a token, she should be laughed at as a silly child, perhaps forbidden to makeit, or else her uncle might hear and make a joke of it. It was notexactly disingenuousness, but rather the first dawn of maidenlyreserve and modesty that reddened her cheek in a manner her motherdid not fail to observe. 

Yet it was with more amusement than misgiving, for children playedat courtship like other games in mimicry of being grown up, and abaronet's only son was in point of fact almost as much out of thereach of a sea captain's daughter and clergyman's niece as a princeof the blood royal; and Master Archfield would probably becontracted long before he could choose for himself, for his familywere not likely to take into account that if Captain Woodford hadnot been too severely wounded to come forward after the battle ofSouthwold Bay he would have been knighted. On the strength of whichAnne, as her companions sometimes said, gave herself in consequencemore airs than Mistress Lucy ever did. 

Sedley, a poor cousin, a destitute cavalier's orphan, who had beenplaced on the foundation at Winchester College in hopes that hemight be provided for in the Church, would have been far more on herlevel, and indeed Lady Archfield, a notable matchmaker, had alreadyhinted how suitable such a thing would be. However, the presentschool character of Master Sedley, as well as her own observations, by no means inclined Mrs. Woodford towards the boy, large limbed andcomely faced, but with a bullying, scowling air that did not augurwell for his wife or his parish. 

Whether it were this lad's threats, or more likely, the fact thatall the Close was on the alert, Peregrine's exploits were lessfrequent there, and began to extend to the outskirts of the city. There were some fine yew trees on the southern borders, towards thechalk down, with massive dark foliage upon stout ruddy branches, among which Peregrine, armed with a fishing-rod, line, and hook, satperched, angling for what might be caught from unconsciouspassengers along a path which led beneath. 

From a market-woman's basket he abstracted thus a fowl! His "Ho!ho! ho!" startled her into looking up, and seeing it apparentlyresuscitated, and hovering aloft. Full of dismay, she hurriedshrieking away to tell the story of the bewitched chick at themarket-cross among her gossips. 

His next capture was a chop from a butcher boy's tray, but thisinvolved more peril, for with a fierce oath that he would berevenged on the Whiggish imp, the lad darted at the tree, in vain, however, for Peregrine had dropped down on the other side, and creptunseen to another bush, where he lay perdu, under the thick greenbranches, rod and all, while the youth, swearing and growling, wasshaking his former refuge. 

As soon as the coast was clear he went back to his post, andpresently was aware of three gentlemen advancing over the down, pointing, measuring, and surveying. One was small and slight, assimply dressed as a gentleman of the period could be; another wasclad in a gay coat with a good deal of fluttering ribbon and richlace; the third, a tall well-made man, had a plain walking suit, surmounted by a flowing periwig and plumed beaver. Coming closebeneath Peregrine's tree, and standing with their backs to it, theyeagerly conversed. "Such a cascade will drown the honours of theVersailles fountains, if only the water can be raised to such aheight. Are you sure of it, Wren?"

"As certain as hydraulics can make me, sir, " and the lesser manbegan drawing lines with his stick in the dust of the path indemonstration. 

The opportunity was irresistible, and the hook from above deftlycaught the band of the feathered hat of the taller man, slowly andsteadily drawing it up, entirely unperceived by the owner, on whosewig it had rested, and who was bending over the dust-traced diagramin absorbed attention. Peregrine deferred his hobgoblin laughter, for success emboldened him farther. Detaching the hat from hishook, and depositing it safely in a fork of the tree, he nextcautiously let down his line, and contrived to get a strong hold ofone of the black locks on the top of the wig, just as the wearer wasobserving, "Oliver's Battery, eh? A cupola with a light to be seenout at sea? Our sailors will make another St. Christopher of you!Ha! what's this'"

For feeling as if a branch were touching the structure on his head, he had stepped forward, thus favouring Peregrine's manoeuvres sothat the wig dangled in the air, suddenly disclosing the bare skullof a very dark man, with such marked features that it needed not thegentlemen's outcry to show the boy who was the victim of hismischief. 

"What imp is there?" cried the King, spying up into the tree, whilehis attendant drew his sword, "How now?" as Peregrine half climbed, half tumbled down, bringing hat and wig with him, and, whether bydesign or accident, fell at his feet. "Will nothing content you butroyal game?" he continued laughing, as Sir Christopher Wren helpedhim to resume his wig. "Why, what a shrimp it is! a mere goblinsprite! What's thy name, master wag?"

"Peregrine Oakshott, so please you, " the boy answered, raisinghimself with a face scared indeed, but retaining its queerimpishness. "Sir, I never guessed--"

"Young rogue! have you our licence to waylay our loyal subjects?"demanded the King, with an affected fierceness. "Know you not 'tisrank treason to discrown our sacred Majesty, far more to dishevel ordestroy our locks? Why! I might behead you on the spot. " To hisgreat amazement the boy, with an eager face and clasped hands, exclaimed, "O sir! Oh, please your Majesty, do so. "

"Do so!" exclaimed the King astounded. "Didst hear what I said?"

"Yes, sir! You said it was a beheading matter, and I'm willing, sir. "

"Of all the petitions that ever were made to me, this is thestrangest!" exclaimed Charles. "An urchin like this weary of life!What next? So, " with a wink to his companions, "Peregrine Oakshott, we condemn thee for high treason against our most sacred Majesty'sbeaver and periwig, and sentence thee to die by having thine headsevered from thy body. Kneel down, open thy collar, bare thy neck. Ay, so, lay thy neck across that bough. Killigrew, do thy duty. "

To the general surprise, the boy complied with all these directions, never flinching nor showing sign of fear, except that his lips wereset and his cheek whitened. As he knelt, with closed eyes, the flatcold blade descended on his neck, the tension relaxed, and he sank!

"Hold!" cried the King. "It is gone too far! He has surely notcarried out the jest by dying on our hands. "

"No, no, sir, " said Wren, after a moment's alarm, "he has onlyswooned. Has any one here a flask of wine to revive him?"

Several gentlemen had come up, and as Peregrine stirred, some winewas held to his lips, and he presently asked in a faint voice, "Isthis fairyland?"

"Not yet, my lad, " said Charles, "whatever it may be when Wren'swork is done. "

The boy opened his eyes, and as he beheld the same face, and the toofamiliar sky and trees, he sighed heavily, and said, "Then it is allthe same! O sir, would you but have cut off my head in goodearnest, I might be at home again!"

"Home! what means the elf?"

"An elf! That is what they say I am--changed in the cradle, " saidPeregrine, incited to confidence by the good-natured eyes, "and Ithought if I were close on death mine own people might take me home, and bring back the right one. "

"He really believes it!" exclaimed Charles much diverted. "Tell me, good Master Elf, who is thy father, I mean not my brother Oberon, but him of the right one, as thou sayst. "

"Mr. Robert Oakshott of Oakwood, sir, " said Peregrine. 

"A sturdy squire of the country party, " said the King. "I am muchminded to secure the lad for an elfin page, " he added aside toKilligrew. "There's a fund of excellent humour and drollery inthose queer eyes of his! So, Sir Hobgoblin, if you are proofagainst cold steel, I know not what is to be done with you. Get youback, and devise some other mode of finding your way home tofairyland. "

Peregrine said not a word of his adventure, so that the surprise ofhis family was the greater when overtures were made through SirChristopher Wren for his appointment as a royal page. 

"I would as soon send my son at once to be a page to Beelzebub, "returned Major Oakshott. 

And though Sir Christopher did not return the answer exactly inthose terms, he would not say that the Puritan Major did not judgerightly. 

CHAPTER III: THE FAIRY KING

"She's turned her right and round about, And thrice she blew on a grass-green horn, And she sware by the moon and the stars above That she'd gar me rue the day I was born. "

Old Ballad of Alison Cross. 

Dr. Woodford's parish was Portchester, where stood the fine oldroyal castle at present ungarrisoned, and partly dismantled in therecent troubles, on a chalk peninsula, a spur from Portsdown, projecting above the alluvial flats, and even into the harbour, whose waves at high tide laved the walls. The church and churchyardwere within the ample circuit of the fortifications, about twofurlongs distant from the main building, where rose the mightyNorman keep, above the inner court, with a gate tower at this date, only inhabited by an old soldier as porter with his family. Amassive square tower at each angle of the huge wall likewise defieddecay. 

It was on Midsummer eve, that nearly about sundown, Dr. Woodford wassummoned by the severe illness of the gatekeeper's old father, andhis sister-in-law went with him to attempt what her skill couldaccomplish for the old man's relief. 

They were detained there till the sun had long set, though the air, saturated with his redness, was full of soft twilight, while themoon, scarcely past the full, was just high enough to silver thequiet sea, and throw the shadow of the battlements and towers on thesward whitened with dew. 

After the close atmosphere of the sickroom the freshness waswelcome, and Mrs. Woodford, once a friend of Katherine Phillips, 'the Matchless Orinda, ' had an eye and a soul to appreciate thebeauty, and she even murmured the lines of Il Penseroso as she leanton the arm of her brother-in-law, who, in his turn, thought ofHomer. 

Suddenly, as they stood in the shadow, they were aware of a small, slight, fantastic figure in the midst of the grass-grown court, where there was a large green mushroom circle or fairy ring. On theborders of this ring it paused with an air of disappointment. Thenentering it stood still, took off the hat, whose lopsided appearancehad given so strange an outline, and bowed four times in oppositedirections, when, as the face was turned towards the spectators, invisible in the dark shadow, the lady recognised PeregrineOakshott. She pressed the Doctor's arm, and they both stood stillwatching the boy bathing his hand in the dew, and washing his facewith it, then kneeling on one knee, and clasping his hands, as hecried aloud in a piteous chant--

"Fairy mother, fairy mother! Oh, come, come and take me home! Myvery life is sore to me. They all hate me! My brothers and theservants, every one of them. And my father and tutor say I ampossessed with an evil spirit, and I am beaten daily, and more thandaily. I can never, never get a good word from living soul! Thisis the second seven years, and Midsummer night! Oh, bring the otherback again! I'm weary, I'm weary! Good elves, good elves, take mehome. Fairy mother! Come, come, come!" Shutting his eyes heseemed to be in a state of intense expectation. Tears filled Mrs. Woodford's eyes. The Doctor moved forward, but no sooner did theboy become conscious of human presence than he started up, and fledwildly towards a postern door, but no sooner had he disappeared inthe shadow than there was a cry and a fall. 

"Poor child!" exclaimed Dr. Woodford, "he has fallen down the stepsto the vault. It is a dangerous pitfall. "

They both hurried to the place, and found the boy lying on the stepsleading down to the vault, but motionless, and when they succeededin lifting him up, he was quite unconscious, having evidently struckhis head against the mouth of the vault. 

"We must carry him home between us, " said Mrs. Woodford. "That willbe better than rousing Miles Gateward, and making a coil. "

Dr. Woodford, however, took the entire weight, which he declared tobe very slight. "No one would think the poor child fourteen yearsold, " he observed, "yet did he not speak of a second seven?"

"True, " said Mrs. Woodford, "he was born after the Great Fire ofLondon, which, as I have good cause to know, was in the year '66. "

There was still little sign of revival about the boy when he hadbeen carried into the Parsonage, undressed and laid in the Doctor'sown bed, only a few moans when he was handled, and on his thin, sharp features there was a piteous look of sadness entirely unlikehis ordinary expression of malignant fun, and which went to the kindhearts of the Doctor and Mrs. Woodford. After exhausting their ownremedies, as soon as the early daylight was available Dr. Woodfordcalled up a couple of servants, and sent one into Portsmouth for asurgeon, and another to Oakwood to the parents. 

The doctor was the first to arrive, though not till the morning waswell advanced. He found that three ribs were broken against theedge of the stone step, and the head severely injured, and havinghad sufficient experience in the navy to be a reasonably safepractitioner, he did nothing worse than bleed the patient, anddeclared that absolute rest was the only hope of recovery. 

He was being regaled with cold roast pig and ale when Major Oakshottrode up to the door. Four horses were dragging the great lumberingcoach over Portsdown hill, but he had gone on before, to thank Dr. And Mrs. Woodford for their care of his unfortunate son, and to makepreparations for his transport home under the care of his wife's ownwoman, who was coming in the coach in the stead of the invalid lady. 

"Nay, sir. Master Brent here has a word to say to that matter, "replied the Doctor. 

"Truly, sir, I have, " said the surgeon; "in his present state it isas much as your son's life is worth to move him. "

"Be that as it may seem to man, he is in the hand of Heaven, and heought to be at home, whether for life or death. "

"For death it will assuredly be, sir, if he be jolted and shakenalong the Portsdown roads--yea, I question whether you would get himto Oakwood alive, " said Brent, with naval roughness. 

"Indeed, sir, " added Mrs. Woodford, "Mrs. Oakshott may be assured ofmy giving him as tender care as though he were mine own son. "

"I am beholden to you, madam, " said the Major; "I know yourkindliness of heart; but in good sooth, the unhappy and rebelliouslad merits chastisement rather than pity, since what should he bedoing at this distance from home, where he was shut up for hismisdemeanours, save fleeing like the Prodigal of the parable, orelse planning another of his malicious pranks, as I greatly fear, onyou or your daughter, madam. If so, he hath fallen into the pitthat he made for others. "

The impulse was to tell what had occurred, but the surgeon'spresence, and the dread of making all worse for the poor boy checkedboth the hosts, and Mrs. Woodford only declared that since the dayof the apology he had never molested her or her little girl. 

"Still, " said the Major, "it is not possible to leave him in astranger's house, where at any moment the evil spirit that is in himmay break forth. "

"Come and see him, and judge, " said Dr. Woodford. 

When the father beheld the deathly face and motionless form, sternas he was, he was greatly shocked. His heavy tread caused a moan, and when he said "What, Perry, how now?" there was a painfulshrinking and twitching, which the surgeon greeted as evidence ofreturning animation, but which made him almost drag the Major out ofthe room for fear of immediate consequences. 

Major Oakshott, and still more the servant, who had arrived in thecoach and come upstairs, could not but be convinced that removal wasnot to be thought of. The maid was, moreover, too necessary to hermistress to be left to undertake the nursing, much to her master'sregret, but to the joy of Mrs. Woodford, who felt certain that byfar the best chance for the poor boy was in his entire separationfrom all associations with the home where he had evidently sufferedso much. 

There was, perhaps, nothing except the pageship at Court that couldhave gone more against Major Oakshott's principles than to leave hisson in the house of a prelatical minister, but alternative there wasnone, and he could only express how much he was beholden to the Dr. And Mrs. Woodford. 

All their desire was that he would remain at a distance, for duringthe long and weary watch they had to keep over the half-consciouslad, the sound of a voice or even a horse's tread from Oakwoodoccasioned moans and restlessness. The Major rode over, or sent hissons, or a servant daily to inquire during the first fortnight, except on the Sundays, and on each of these the patient made a steptowards improvement. 

At first he lay in a dull, death-like stupor, only groaning ifdisturbed, but by and by there was a babbling murmur of words, andsoon the sound of his brother's loud voice at the door, demandingfrom the saddle how it went to-day with Peregrine, caused a shriekof terror and such a fit of trembling that Mrs. Woodford had to goout and make a personal request that Oliver would never again speakunder the window. To her great relief, when the balance betweenlife and death had decidedly turned, the inquiries became lessfrequent, and could often be forestalled by sending messengers toOakwood. 

The boy usually lay still all day in the darkened room, only showingpain at light or noise, but at night he often talked and rambled agood deal. Sometimes it was Greek or Latin, sometimes wholechapters of Scripture, either denunciating portions or genealogiesfrom the First Book of Chronicles, the polysyllabic names pouringfrom his mouth whenever he was particularly oppressed or suffering, so that when Mrs. Woodford had with some difficulty made out whatthey were, she concluded that they had been set as tasks of penance. 

At other times Peregrine talked as if he absolutely believed himselfin fairyland, accepting a strawberry or cherry as elfin food, promising a tester in Anne's shoe when she helped to change hispillow, or conversing in the style of Puck, or Robin Goodfellow, onintended pranks. Often he fancied himself the lubber fiend restingat the fire his hairy strength, and watching for cock-crow as thesignal for flinging out-of-doors. It was wonderful how in the grimand strict Puritanical household he could have imbibed so much fairylore, but he must have eagerly assimilated and recollected whateverhe heard, holding them as tidings from his true kith and kin; and, indeed, when he was running on thus, Mrs. Woodford sometimes felt acertain awe and chill, as of the preternatural, and could hardlybelieve that he belonged to ordinary human nature. Either she orthe Doctor always took the night-watch after the talking mood setin, for they could not judge of the effect it might have on any ofthe servants. Indeed they sometimes doubted whether this were notthe beginning of permanent insanity, as the delusion seemed tostrengthen with symptoms of recovery. 

"Then, " said Dr. Woodford, "Heaven help the poor lad!"

For sad indeed was the lot in those days of even the most harmlesslunatic. 

"Yet, " said the lady, "I scarcely think anything can be worse thanwhat he undergoes at home. When I hear the terror and misery of hisvoice, I doubt whether we did him any true kindness by hindering hisfather from killing him outright by the shaking of his old coach. "

"Nay, sister, we strove to do our duty, though it may be we havetaken on ourselves a further charge. "

CHAPTER IV: IMP OR NO IMP

"But wist I of a woman bold Who thrice my brow durst sign, I might regain my mortal mould, As fair a form as thine. "

SCOTT. 

At last came a wakening with intelligence in the eyes. In thesummer morning light that streamed through the chinks of theshutters Mrs. Woodford perceived the glance of inquiry, and when shebrought some cool drink, a rational though feeble voice asked thosefirst questions, "Who? and where?"

"I am Mrs. Woodford, my dear child. You remember me at Winchester. You are at Portchester. You fell down and hurt yourself, but youare getting better. "

She was grieved to see the look of utter disappointment andweariness that overspread the features, and the boy hardly spokeagain all day. There was much drowsiness, but also depression, andmore than once Mrs. Woodford detected tears, but at other times hereceived her attentions with smiles and looks of wonderinggratitude, as though ordinary kindness and solicitude were so new tohim that he did not know what to make of them, and perhaps wasafraid of breaking a happy dream by saying too much. 

The surgeon saw him, and declared him so much better that he mightsoon be taken home, recommending his sitting up for a little whileas a first stage. Peregrine, however, seemed far from beingcheered, and showed himself so unwilling to undergo the fatigue ofbeing dressed, even when good Dr. Woodford had brought up his ownlarge chair--the only approach to an easy one in the house--that theproposal was dropped, and he was left in peace for the rest of theday. 

In the evening Mrs. Woodford was sitting by the window, letting herneedlework drop as the light faded, and just beginning to doze, whenher repose was broken by a voice saying "Madam. "

"Yes, Peregrine. "

"Come near, I pray. Will you tell no one?"

"No; what is it?"

In so low a tone that she had to bend over him: "Do you know howthe Papists cross themselves?"

"Yes, I have seen the Queen's confessor and some of the ladies makethe sign. "

"Dear lady, you have been very good to me! If you would only crossme thrice, and not be afraid! They could not hurt you!"

"Who? What do you mean?" she asked, for fairy lore had not become apopular study, but comprehension came when he said in an awe-stricken voice, "You know what I am. "

"I know there have been old wives' tales about you, my poor boy, butsurely you do not believe them yourself. "

"Ah! if you will not believe them, there is no hope. I might haveknown. You were so good to me;" and he hid his face. 

She took his unwilling hand and said, "Be you what you will, my poorchild, I am sorry for you, for I see you are very unhappy. Come, tell me all. "

"Nay, then you would be like the rest, " said Peregrine, "and I couldnot bear that, " and he wrung her hand. 

"Perhaps not, " she said gently, "for I know that a story is afloatthat you were changed in your cradle, and that there are folkignorant enough to believe it. "

"They all _know_ it, " he said impressively. "My mother and brothersand all the servants. Every soul knows it except my father and Mr. Horncastle, and they will never hear a word, but will have it that Iam possessed with a spirit of evil that is to be flogged out of me. Goody Madge and Moll Owens, they knew how it was at the first, andwould fain have forced them--mine own people--to take me home, andbring the other back, but my father found it out and hindered them. "

"To save your life. "

"Much good does my life do me! Every one hates or fears me. No onehas a word for me. Every mischance is laid on me. When the kitchenwench broke a crock, it was because I looked at it. If the keepermisses a deer, he swears at Master Perry! Oliver and Robert willnot let me touch a thing of theirs; they bait me for a moon-calf, and grin when I am beaten for their doings. Even my mother quakesand trembles when I come near, and thinks I give her the creeps. Asto my father and tutor, it is ever the rod with them, though I canlearn my tasks far better than those jolter-heads Noll and Robin. Inever heard so many kind words in all my life as you have given mesince I have been lying here!"

He stopped in a sort of awe, for tears fell from her eyes, and shekissed his forehead. 

"Will you not help me, good madam?" he entreated. "I went down toGoody Madge, and she said there was a chance for me every sevenyears. The first went by, but this is my fourteenth year. I had ahope when the King spoke of beheading me, but he was only in jest, as I might have known. Then methought I would try what Midsummernight in the fairy ring would do, but that was in vain; and now you, who could cross me if you would, will not believe. Oh, will you notmake the trial?"

"Alas! Peregrine, supposing I could do it in good faith, would youbecome a mere tricksy sprite, a thing of the elements, and yield upyour hopes as a Christian soul, a child of God and heir of Heaven?"

"My father says I am an heir of hell. "

"No, no, never, " she cried, shuddering at his quiet way of sayingit. "You are flesh and blood, christened, and with the hope setbefore you. "

"The christening came too late, " he said. "O lady, you who are sogood and pitiful, let my mother get back her true Peregrine--astraight-limbed, comely dullard, such as would be welcome to her. She would bless and thank you, and for me, to be a Will-of-the-wisp, or what not, would be far better than the life I lead. Never did Iknow what my mother calls peace till I lay here. "

"Ah, Peregrine, poor lad, your value for peace and for my poorkindness proves that you have a human heart and are no elf. "

"Indeed, I meant to flit about and give you good dreams, and keepoff all that could hurt or frighten you, " he said earnestly. 

"Only the human soul could feel so, dear boy, " she answeredtenderly. 

"And you _really_ disbelieve--the other, " he said wistfully. 

"This is what I verily believe, my child: that there were causes tomake you weakly, and that you may have had some palsy stroke orconvulsive fit perhaps at the moment you were left alone. Suchwould explain much of your oddness of face, which made the ignorantnurses deem you changed; and thus it was only your father who, byGod's mercy, saved you from a miserable death, to become, as Itrust, a good and true man, and servant of God. " Then answering ahopeless groan, she added, "Yes, it is harder for you than for many. I see that these silly servants have so nurtured you in this beliefthat you have never even thought it worth while to strive forgoodness, but supposed tricksomeness and waywardness a part of yournature. "

"The only pleasure in life is paying folk off, " said Peregrine, witha glitter in his eye. "It serves them right. "

"And thus, " she said sadly, "you have gone on hating and spiting, deeming yourself a goblin without hope or aim; but now you feel thatyou have a Christian soul you will strive with evil, you will solove as to win love, you will pray and conquer. "

"My father and Mr. Horncastle pray, " said Peregrine bitterly. "Ihate it! They go on for ever, past all bearing; I _must_ dosomething--stand on my head, pluck some one's stool away, or tickleRobin with a straw, if I am birched the next moment. That's thegoblin. "

"Yet you love the Minster music. "

"Ay! Father calls it rank Popery. I listened many a time he neverguessed, hid away in the Holy Hole, or within old Bishop Wykeham'slittle house. "

"Ah, Peregrine, could an imp of evil brook to lie hidden in the HolyHole behind the very altar?" said Mrs. Woodford. "But I hear Nickbringing in supper, and I must leave you for the present. God inHis mercy bless you, His poor child, and lead you in His ways. "

As she went Peregrine muttered, "Is that a prayer? It is not likefather's. "

She was anxious to consult her brother-in-law on the strange mood ofher patient. She found that he had heard more than he had told herof what Major Oakshott deemed the hopeless wickedness of his son, the antics at prayers, the hatred of everything good, the spitefultricks that were the family torment. No doubt much was due to theboy's entire belief in his own elfship, and these two good peopleseriously considered how to save him from himself. 

"If we could only keep him here, " said Mrs. Woodford, "I think wemight bring him to have some faith and love in God and man. "

"You could, dear sister, " said the Doctor, smiling affectionately;"but Major Oakshott would never leave his son in our house. Heabhors our principles too much, and besides, it is too near home. All the servants have heard rumours of this cruel fable, and wouldascribe the least misadventure to his goblin origin. I must rideover to Oakwood and endeavour to induce his father to remove him tosafe and judicious keeping. "

Some days, however, elapsed before Dr. Woodford could do this, andin the meantime the good lady did her best to infuse into her pooryoung guest the sense that he had a human soul, responsible for hisactions, and with hope set before him, and that he was not a merefrolicsome and malicious sprite, the creature of unreasoningimpulse. 

It was a matter only to be attempted by gentle hints, for thoughreared in a strictly religious household, Peregrine's ears seemed tohave been absolutely closed, partly by nursery ideas of his ownexclusion from the pale of humanity, partly by the harsh treatmentthat he was continually bringing on himself. Preachings and prayersto him only meant a time of intolerable restraint, usually ending indisgrace and punishment; Scripture and the Westminster Catechismcontained a collection of tasks more tedious and irksome than theLatin and Greek Grammar; Sunday was his worst day of the week, andthese repugnances, as he had been taught to believe, were so manyproofs that he was a being beyond the power of grace. 

Mrs. Woodford scrupled to leave him to any one else on this firstSunday of his recovered consciousness, and in hopes of keeping himquiet through fatigue, she contrived that it should be the first dayof his being dressed, and seated in the arm-chair, resting againstcushions beside the open window, whence he could watch the church-goers, Anne in her little white cap, with her book in one hand, anda posy in the other, tripping demurely beside her uncle, stately ingown, cassock, and scarlet hood. 

Peregrine could not refrain from boasting to his hostess how he hadonce grimaced from outside the church window at Havant, and at thewomen shrieking that the fiend was there. She would not smile, andshook her head sadly, so that he said, "I would never do so here. "

"Nor anywhere, I hope. "

Whereupon, thinking better to please the churchwoman, he relatedhow, when imprisoned for popping a toad into the soup, he hadescaped over the leads, and had beaten a drum outside the barn, during a discourse of the godly tinker, John Bunyan, tramping andrattling so that all thought the troopers were come, and rushed out, tumbling one over the other, while he yelled out his "Ho! ho! ho!"from the haystack where he had hidden. 

"When you feel how kind and loving God is, " said Mrs. Woodfordgravely, "you will not like to disturb those who are doing Himhonour. "

"Is He kind?" asked Peregrine. "I thought He was all wrath andanger. "

She replied, "The Lord is loving unto every man, and His mercy isover all His works. "

He made no answer. If he were sullen, this subsided intosleepiness, and when he awoke he found the lady on her knees goingthrough the service with her Prayer-book. She encountered hiswistful eyes, but no remark was made, though on her return fromfetching him some broth, she found him peeping into her book, whichhe laid down hastily, as though afraid of detection. 

She had to go down to the Sunday dinner, where, according to goodold custom, half a dozen of the poor and aged were regaled with theparish priest and his household. There she heard inquiries andremarks showing how widely spread and deeply rooted was the notionof Peregrine's elfish extraction. If Daddy Hoskins did ask afterthe poor young gentleman as if he were a human being, the three olddames present shook their heads, and while the more bashful onlygroaned, Granny Perkins demanded, "Well, now, my lady, do he eat andsleep like other folk?"

"Exactly, granny, now that he's mending in health. "

"And don't he turn and writhe when there's prayers?"

Mrs. Woodford deposed to having observed no such demonstrations. 

"Think of that now! Lauk-a-daisy! I've heard tell by my nevvyDavy, as is turnspit at Oak'ood, as how when there's prayers andexpounding by Master Horncastle, as is a godly man, saving hisReverence's presence, he have seen him, have Davy--Master Perry, asthey calls him, a-twisted round with his heels on the chair, and hishead where his heels should be, and a grin on his face enough togive one a turn. "

"Did Davy never see a mischievous boy fidgeting at prayers?" askedthe Doctor, who was nearer than she thought. "If so, he has beenluckier than I have been. "

There was a laugh, out of deference to the clergyman, but the oldwoman held to her point. "Begging your Reverence's pardon, sir, there be more in this than we knows. They says up at Oakwood, there's no peace in the place for the spite of him, and when theythinks he is safe locked into his chamber, there he be a-clogging ofthe spit, or changing sugar into pepper, or making the stool breakdown under one. Oh, he be a strange one, sir, or summat worse. Ihave heerd him myself hollaing 'Ho! ho! ho!' on the downs enough tomake one's flesh creep. "

"I will tell you what he is, dame, " said the Doctor gravely. "He isa poor child who had a fit in his cradle, and whom all around havejoined in driving to folly, evil, and despair through your foolishsuperstitions. He is my guest, and I will have no more said againsthim at my table. "

The village gossips might be silenced by awe of the parson, buttheir opinion was unshaken; and Silas Hewlett, a weather-beatensailor with a wooden leg, was bold enough to answer, "Ay, ay, sir, you parsons and gentlefolk don't believe naught; but you've not seenwhat I have with my own two bodily eyes--" and this of course wasthe prelude to the history of an encounter with a mermaid, whichalternated with the Flying Dutchman and a combat with the Moors, asregular entertainment at the Sunday meal. 

When Mrs. Woodford went upstairs she was met by the servant Nicolas, declaring that she might get whom she would to wait on that theremoon-calf, he would not go neist the spiteful thing, and exhibitinga swollen finger, stung by a dead wasp, which Peregrine hadcunningly disposed on the edge of his empty plate. 

She soothed the man's wrath, and healed his wound as best she might, ere returning to her patient, who looked at her with an impish grinon his lips, and yet human deprecation in his eyes. Feelingunprepared for discussion, she merely asked whether the dinner hadbeen relished, and sat down to her book; but there was a grave, sorrowful expression on her countenance, and, after an interval oflying back uneasily in his chair, he exclaimed, "It is of no use; Icould not help it. It is my nature. "

"It is the nature of many lads to be mischievous, " she answered;"but grace can cure them. "

Therewith she began to read aloud. She had bought the Pilgrim'sProgress (the first part) from a hawker, and she was glad to have athand something that could hardly be condemned as frivolous orprelatical. The spell of the marvellous book fell on Peregrine; helistened intently, and craved ever to hear more, not being yet ableto read without pain and dizziness. He was struck by hearing thatthe dream of Christian's adventures had visited that same tinker, whose congregation his own wicked practices had broken up. 

"He would take me for one of the hobgoblins that beset MasterChristian. "

"Nay, " said Mrs. Woodford, "he would say you were Christianfloundering in the Slough of Despond, and deeming yourself one ofits efts or tadpoles. "

He made no answer, but on the whole behaved so well that the nextday Mrs. Woodford ventured to bring her little daughter in afterhaving extracted a promise that there should be no tricks norteasing, a pledge honourably kept. 

Anne did not like the prospect of the interview. "Oh, ma'am, don'tleave me alone with him!" she said. "Do you know what he did toMistress Martha Browning, his own cousin, you know, who lives atEmsworth with her aunt? He put a horsehair slily round her glass ofwine, and tipped it over her best gray taffeta, and her aunt whippedher for the stain. She never would say it was his doing, and yet hegoes on teasing her the same as ever, though his brother Oliverfound it out, and thrashed him for it: you know Oliver is to marryMistress Martha. "

"My dear child, where did you hear all this?" asked Mrs. Woodford, rather overwhelmed with this flood of gossip from her usually quietdaughter. 

"Lucy told me, mamma. She heard it from Sedley, who says he doesnot wonder at any one serving out Martha Browning, for she is asugly as sin. "

"Hush, hush, Anne! Such sayings do not become a young maid. Thispoor lad has scarce known kindness. Every one's hand has beenagainst him, and so his hand has been against every one. I want mylittle daughter to be brave enough not to pain and anger him byshrinking from him as if he were not like other people. We mustteach him to be happy before we can teach him to be good. "

"Madam, I will try, " said the child, with a great gulp; "only if youwould be pleased not to leave me alone with him the first time!"

This Mrs. Woodford promised. At first the boy lay and looked atAnne as if she were a rare curiosity brought for his examination, and it took all her resolution, even to a heroic exertion ofchildish fortitude, not to flinch under the gaze of those queereyes. However, Mrs. Woodford diverted the glances by producing abox of spillekins, and in the interest of the game the childrenbecame better acquainted. 

Over their next day's game Mrs. Woodford left them, and Anne becameat ease since Peregrine never attempted any tricks. She taught himto play at draughts, the elders thinking it expedient not to doubtwhether such vanities were permissible at Oakwood. 

Soon there was such merriment between them that the kind Doctor saidit did his heart good to hear the boy's hearty natural laugh in lieuof the "Ho! ho! ho!" of malice or derision. 

They were odd conversations that used to take place between that boyand girl. The King's offer of a pageship had oozed out in theOakshott family, and Peregrine greatly resented the refusal, whichhe naturally attributed to his father's Whiggery and spite at allthings agreeable, and he was fond of discussing his wrongs andlongings with Anne, who, from her childish point of view, thoughtthe walls of Portchester and the sluggish creek a very bad exchangefor her enjoyments at Greenwich, where she had lived during herfather's years of broken health, after he had been disabled atSouthwold by a wound which had prevented his being knighted by theDuke of York for his daring in the excitement of the criticalmoment, a fact which Mistress Anne never forgot, though she onlyknew it by hearsay, as it happened a few weeks after she was born, and her father always averred that he was thankful to have missedthe barren and expensive honour, and that the _worst_ which had comeof his exploit was the royal sponsorship to his little maid. 

Anne had, however, been the pet of her father's old friends, the seacaptains, had played with the little Evelyns under the yew hedges ofSays Court, had been taken to London to behold the Lord Mayor's showand more than one Court pageant, had been sometimes at the palacesas the plaything of the Ladies Mary and Anne of York, had been morethan once kissed by their father, the Duke, and called a prettylittle poppet, and had even shared with them a notable game at rompswith their good-natured uncle the King, when she had actually caughthim at Blind-man's-buff!

Ignorant as she was of evil, her old surroundings appeared to herdelightful, and Peregrine, bred in a Puritan home, was at fourteennot much more advanced than she was in the meaning of the vices andcorruptions that he heard inveighed against in general or scripturalterms at home, and was only too ready to believe that all that hisfather proscribed must be enchanting. Thus they built castlestogether about brilliant lives at a Court of which they knew aslittle as of that at Timbuctoo. 

There was another Court, however, of which Peregrine seemed to knowall the details, namely, that of King Oberon and Queen Mab. Howmuch was village lore picked up from Moll Owens and her kind, or howmuch was the work of his own imagination, no one could tell, probably not himself, certainly not Anne. When he appeared onintimate terms with Hip, Nip, and Skip, and described catching DaddyLong Legs to make a fence with his legs, or dwelt upon a terriblefight between two armies of elves mounted on grasshoppers andcrickets, and armed with lances tipped with stings of bees andwasps, she would exclaim, "Is it true, Perry?" and he would wink hisgreen eye and look at her with his yellow one till she hardly knewwhere she was. 

He would tell of his putting a hornet in a sluttish maid's shoe, which was credible, if scarcely meriting that elfish laughter whichmade his auditor shrink, but when he told of dancing over the mudbanks with a lantern, like a Will-of-the-wisp, till he lured boatsto get stranded, or horsemen to get stuck, in the hopeless mud, Annenever questioned the possibility, but listened with wide open eyes, and a restrained shudder, feeling as if under a spell. Thatmysterious childish feeling which dreads even what common senseforbids the calmer mind to believe, made her credit Peregrine, forthe time at least, with strange affinities to the underground folk, and kept her under a strange fascination, half attraction, halfrepulsion, which made her feel as if she must obey and follow him ifhe turned those eyes on her, whether she were willing or not. 

Nor did she ever tell her mother of these conversations. She hadbeen rebuked once for repeating nurse's story of the changeling, andagain for her shrinking from him; and this was quite enough in anessentially reserved, as well as proud and sensitive, nature, toprevent further confidences on a subject which she knew would betreated as a foolish fancy, bringing both herself and her companioninto trouble. 

CHAPTER V: PEREGRINE'S HOME

"For, at a word, be it understood, He was always for ill and never for good. "

SCOTT. 

A week had passed since any of the family from Oakwood had come tomake inquiries after the convalescent at Portchester, when Dr. Woodford mounted his sleek, sober-paced pad, and accompanied by agroom, rode over to make his report and tender his counsel to MajorOakshott. He arrived just as the great bell was clanging to summonthe family to the mid-day meal, since he had reckoned on the Squirebeing more amenable as a 'full man, ' especially towards a guest, andhe was well aware that the Major was thoroughly a gentleman inbehaviour even to those with whom he differed in politics andreligion. 

Accordingly there was a ready welcome at the door of the old redhouse, which was somewhat gloomy looking, being on the north side ofthe hill, and a good deal stifled with trees. In a brief intervalthe Doctor found himself seated beside the pale languid lady at thehead of the long table, placed in a large hall, wainscotted with theblackest of oak, which seemed to absorb into itself all the lightfrom the windows, large enough indeed but heavily mullioned, andwith almost as much of leading as of octagons and lozenges--greenishglass--in them, while the coats of arms, repeated in upper portionsand at the intersections of beams and rafters, were not morecheerful, being sable chevrons on an argent field. The crest, ahorse shoe, was indeed azure, but the blue of this and of the coatsof the serving-men only deepened the thunderous effect of the black. Strangely, however, among these sad-coloured men there moved afigure entirely differently. A negro, white turbaned, and with hisblue livery of a lighter shade, of fantastic make and relieved by agreat deal of white and shining silver, so as to have an entirelydifferent effect. 

He placed himself behind the chair of Dr. Woodford's oppositeneighbour, a shrewd business-like looking gentleman, soberly buthandsomely dressed, with a certain foreign cut about his clothes, and a cravat of rich Flemish lace. He was presented to the Doctoras Major Oakshott's brother, Sir Peregrine. The rest of the partyconsisted of Oliver and Robert, sturdy, ruddy lads of fifteen andtwelve, and their tutor, Mr. Horncastle, an elderly man, who twentyyears before had resigned his living because he could not bringhimself to accept all the Liturgy. 

While Sir Peregrine courteously relieved his sister-in-law of thetrouble of carving the gammon of bacon which accompanied the vealwhich her husband was helping, Dr. Woodford informed her of herson's progress towards recovery. 

"Ah, " she said, "I knew you had come to tell us that he is ready tobe brought home;" and her tone was fretful. 

"We are greatly beholden to you, sir, " said the Major from thebottom of the table. "The boy shall be fetched home immediately. "

"Not so, sir, as yet, I beg of you. Neither his head nor his sidecan brook the journey for at least another week, and indeed my goodsister Woodford will hardly know how to part with her patient. "

"She will not long be of that mind after Master Perry gets to hisfeet again, " muttered the chaplain. 

"Indeed no, " chimed in the mother. "There will be no more peace inthe house when he is come back. "

"I assure you, madam, " said Dr. Woodford, "that he has been a verygood child, grateful and obedient, nor have I heard any complaints. "

"Your kindness, or else that of Mrs. Woodford, carries you far, sir, " answered his host. 

"What? Is my nephew and namesake so peevish a scapegrace?" demandedthe visitor. 

On which anecdotes broke forth from all quarters. Peregrine hadgreased the already slippery oak stairs, had exchanged Oliver'scareful exercise for a ribald broadsheet, had filled Mr. Horncastle's pipe with gunpowder, and mixed snuff with the chocolatespecially prepared for the peculiar godly guest Dame PriscillaWaller. Every one had something to adduce, even the serving-menbehind the chairs; and if Oliver and Robert did not add their quota, it was because absolute silence at meals was the rule for nonage. However, the subject was evidently distasteful to the father, whochanged the conversation by asking his brother questions about theyoung Prince of Orange and the Grand Pensionary De Witt. For thegentleman had been acting as English attache to the Embassy at theHague, whence he had come on affairs of State to London, and afterbeing knighted by Charles, had newly arrived at the old home, whichhe had scarcely seen since his brother's marriage. Dr. Woodfordenjoyed his conversation, and his information on foreign politics, and the Major, though now and then protesting, was evidently proudof his brother. 

When grace had been pronounced by the chaplain the lady withdrew toher parlour, the two boys, each with an obeisance and request forpermission, departed for an hour's recreation, and Dr. Woodfordintimated that he wished for some conversation with his hostrespecting the boy Peregrine. 

"Let us discuss it here, " said Major Oakshott, turning towards asmall table set in the deep bay window, and garnished with wine, fruit, and long slender glasses. "Good Mr. Horncastle, " he added, as he motioned his guest to one of the four seats, "is with me inall that concerns my children, and I desire my brother's counselrespecting the untoward lad with whom it has pleased Heaven toafflict me. "

When the glasses had been filled with claret Dr. Woodford uttered adiplomatic compliment on the healthful and robust appearance of theeldest and youngest sons, and asked whether any cause had beenassigned for the difference between them and the intermediatebrother. 

"None, sir, " returned the father with a sigh, "save the will of theAlmighty to visit us for our sins with a son who has thus far shownhimself one of the marred vessels doomed to be broken by the potter. It may be in order to humble me and prove me that this hath beenlaid upon me. "

The chaplain groaned acquiescence, but there was vexation in thebrother's face. 

"Sir, " said the Doctor, "it is my opinion and that of my sister-in-law, an excellent, discreet, and devout woman, that the poor childwould give you more cause for hope if the belief had not becomefixed in his mind that he is really and truly a fairy elf--yes, invery sooth--a changeling!"

All the auditors broke out into exclamations that it was impossiblethat a boy of fourteen could entertain so absurd an idea, and thetutor evidently thought it a fresh proof of depravity that he shouldthus have tried to deceive his kind hosts. 

In proof that Peregrine veritably believed it himself, Dr. Woodfordrelated what he had witnessed on Midsummer night, mentioning how indelirium the boy had evidently believed himself in fairyland, andhow disappointed he had been, on regaining his senses, to findhimself on common earth; telling also of the adventure with theKing, which Sir Christopher Wren had described to him, but of whichMajor Oakshott was unaware, though it explained the offer of thepageship. He was a good deal struck by these revelations, provingmisery that he had never suspected, though, as he said, he had oftenpleaded, "Why will ye revolt more and more? ye _will_ be strickenmore and more. "

"Have you ever sought his confidence?" asked the travelled brother, a question evidently scarcely understood, for the reply was, "I havealways required of my sons to speak the truth, nor have they failedof late years save this unfortunate Peregrine. "

"And, " said Sir Peregrine, "if the unlucky lad actually supposeshimself to be no human being, admonitions and chastisements wouldnaturally be vain. "

"I cannot believe it, " exclaimed the Major. "'Tis true, as I nowremember, I once came on a couple of beldames, my wife's nurse andanother, who has since been ducked for witchcraft, and found themabout to flog the babe with nettles, and lay him in the thorn hedgebecause he was a sickly child, whom, forsooth, they took to be achangeling; but I forbade the profane folly to be ever againmentioned in my household, nor did I ever hear thereof again. "

"There are a good many more things mentioned in a household, brother, than the master is wont to hear of, " remarked SirPeregrine. 

Dr. Woodford then begged as a personal favour for an individualexamination of the family and servants on their opinion. The masterwas reluctant thus, as he expressed it, to go a-fooling, but hisbrother backed the Doctor up, and further prevented a generalassembly to put one another to shame, but insisted on the witnessesbeing called in one by one. Oliver, the first summoned, wasbeginning to be somewhat less overawed by his father than in hisearlier boyhood. To the inquiry what he thought of his brotherPeregrine, he made a tentative sort of reply, that he was a strangefellow, who never could keep out of disgrace. 

"That is not the question, " said his father. "I am almost ashamedto speak it! Do you--nay, have you ever supposed him to be a--" hereally could not bring out the word. 

"A changeling, sir?" returned Oliver. "I do not believe so now, knowing that it is impossible, but as a child I always did. "

"Who durst possess you with so foolish and profane a falsehood?"

"Every one, sir. I cannot recollect the time when I did not asentirely deem Peregrine a changeling elf as that Robin was my ownbrother. He believes so himself. "

"You have never striven to disabuse him. "

"Indeed, sir, he would scarce have listened to me had I done go;besides, to tell the truth, it has only been of late, since I havebeen older, and have studied more, that I have come to perceive thefolly of it. "

Major Oakshott groaned, and bade him call Robert without sayingwherefore. The little fellow came in, somewhat frightened, and whenasked the question that had been put to his elder, his face lightedup, and he exclaimed, "Oh, have they brought him back again?"

"Whom?"

"Our real brother, sir, who was carried off to fairyland!"

"Who told you so, Robert?"

He looked puzzled, and said, "Sir, they all know it. Molly Owens, that was his foster-mother, saw the fairies bear him off on abroomstick up the chimney. "

"Robert, no lying!"

The boy was only restrained from tears by fear of his father, andjust managed to say, "'Tis what they all say, and Perry knows. "

"Knows!" muttered Major Oakshott in despair, but the uncle, drawingRobin towards him, extracted that Perry had been seen flying out ofthe loft window, when he had been locked up--Robin had never seen ithimself, but the maids had often done so. Moreover, there was proofpositive, in the mark on Oliver's head, where he had nearly killedhimself by tumbling downstairs, being lured by the fairies whilethey stole away the babe. 

The Major could not listen with patience. "A boy of that age torepeat such blasphemous nonsense!" he exclaimed; and Robert, restraining with difficulty his sobs of terror, was dismissed tofetch the butler. 

The old Ironside who now appeared would not avouch his own disbeliefin the identity of Master Peregrine, being, as he said, a man whohad studied his Bible, listened to godly preachers, and seen theworld; but he had no hesitation in declaring that almost every othersoul in the household believed in it as firmly as in the Gospel, certainly all the women, and probably all the men, nor was there anydoubt that the young gentleman conducted himself more like a goblinthan the son of pious Christian parents. In effect both theclergyman and the Diplomate could not help suspecting that in othercompany the worthy butler's disavowal of all share in thesuperstition might have been less absolute. 

"After this, " said Major Oakshott with a sigh, "it seems useless tocarry the inquiry farther. "

"What says my sister Oakshott?" inquired Sir Peregrine. "She! Poorsoul, she is too feeble to be fretted, " said her husband. "She hasnever been the same woman since the Fire of London, and it would bevain to vex her with questions. She would be of one mind while Ispoke to her, and another while her women were pouring their talesinto her ear. Methinks I now understand why she has always seemedto shrink from this unfortunate child, and to fear rather than lovehim. "

"Even so, sir, " added the tutor. "Much is explained that I neverbefore understood. The question is how to deal with him under thisfresh light. I will, so please your honour, assemble the familythis very night, and expound to them that such superstitions arecontrary to the very word of Scripture. "

"Much good will that do, " muttered the knight. 

"I should humbly suggest, " put in Dr. Woodford, "that the best hopefor the poor lad would be to place him where these foolish taleswere unknown, and he could start afresh on the same terms with otheryouths. "

"There is no school in accordance with my principles, " said theSquire gloomily. "Godly men who hold the faith as I do areinhibited by the powers that be from teaching in schools. "

"And, " said his brother, "you hold these principles as moreimportant than the causing your son to be bred up a human beinginstead of being pointed at and rendered hopeless as a demon. "

"I am bound to do so, " said the Major. 

"Surely, " said Dr. Woodford, "some scholar might be found, eitherhere or in Holland, who might share your opinions, and could receivethe boy without incurring penalties for opening a school withoutlicense. "

"It is a matter for prayer and consideration, " said Major Oakshott. "Meantime, reverend sir, I thank you most heartily for the goodnesswith which you have treated my untoward son, and likewise for havingopened my eyes to the root of his freakishness. "

The Doctor understood this as dismissal, and asked for his horse, intimating, however, that he would gladly keep the boy till somearrangement had been decided upon. Then he rode home to tell hissister-in-law that he had done his best, and that he thought it afortunate conjunction that the travelled brother had been present. 

CHAPTER VI: A RELAPSE

"A tell-tale in their company They never could endure, And whoso kept not secretly Their pranks was punished sure. It was a just and Christian deed To pinch such black and blue;Oh, how the commonwealth doth need Such justices as you!"

BISHOP CORBETT. 

Several days passed, during which there could be no doubt thatPeregrine Oakshott knew how to behave himself, not merely to grown-up people, but to little Anne, who had entirely lost her dread ofhim, and accepted him as a playfellow. He was able to join thefamily meals, and sit in the pleasant garden, shaded by the walls ofthe old castle, as well as by its own apple-trees, and looking outon the little bay in front, at full tide as smooth and shining as alake. 

There, while Anne did her task of spinning or of white seam, Mrs. Woodford would tell the children stories, or read to them from thePilgrim's Progress, a wonderful romance to both. Peregrine, stilltamed by weakness, would lie on the grass at her feet, in a tranquilbliss such as he had never known before, and his fairy romances toAnne were becoming mitigated, when one day a big coach came alongthe road from Fareham, with two boys riding beside it, escortingLady Archfield and Mistress Lucy. 

The lady was come to study Mrs. Woodford's recipe for preservedcherries, the young people, Charles, Lucy, and their cousin Sedley, now at home for the summer holidays, to spend an afternoon withMistress Anne. 

Great was Lady Archfield's surprise at finding that Major Oakshott'scross-grained slip of a boy was still at Portchester. 

"If you were forced to take him in for very charity when he washurt, " she said, "I should have thought you would have been rid ofhim as soon as he could leave his bed. "

"The road to Oakwood is too rough for broken ribs as yet, " said Mrs. Woodford, "nor is the poor boy ready for discipline. "

"Ay, I fancy that Major Oakshott is a bitter Puritan in his ownhouse; but no discipline could be too harsh for such a boy as that, according to all that I hear, " said her ladyship, "nor does he lookas if much were amiss with him so far as may be judged of featuresso strange and writhen. "

"He is nearly well, but not yet strong, and we are keeping him heretill his father has decided on what is best for him. "

"You even trust him with your little maid! And alone! I wonder atyou, madam. "

"Indeed, my lady, I have seen no harm come of it. He is gentle andkind with Anne, and I think she softens him. "

Still Mrs. Woodford would gladly not have been bound to her colanderand preserving-pan in her still-room, where her guest's housewifelymind found great scope for inquiry and comment, lasting for nearlytwo hours. 

When at length the operations were over, and numerous little pots ofjam tied up as specimens for the Archfield family to taste at home, the children were not in sight. No doubt, said Mrs. Woodford, theywould be playing in the castle court, and the visitor accompaniedher thither in some anxiety about broken walls and steps, but theywere not in sight, nor did calls bring them. 

The children had gone out together, Anne feeling altogether at easeand natural with congenial playmates. Even Sedley's tortures werepreferable to Peregrine's attentions, since the first were only thetyranny of a graceless boy, the other gave her an indescribablesense of strangeness from which these ordinary mundane comrades werea relief and protection. 

However, Charles and Sedley rushed off to see a young colt in whichthey were interested, and Lucy, in spite of her first shrinking, found Peregrine better company than she could have expected, when heassisted in swinging her and Anne by turns under the old ash tree. 

When the other two were seen approaching, the swinging girl hastilysprang out, only too well aware what Sedley's method of swingingwould be. Then as the boys came up followed inquiries why Peregrinehad not joined them, and jests in schoolboy taste ensued as to elf-locks in the horses' manes, and inquiries when he had last ridden toa witch's sabbath. Little Anne, in duty bound, made her protest, but this only incited Charles to add his word to the teasing, tillLucy joined in the laugh. 

By and by, as they loitered along, they came to the Doctor's littleboat, and there was a proposal to get in and rock. Lucy refused, out of respect for her company attire, and Anne could not leave her, so the two young ladies turned away with arms round each other'swaists, Lucy demonstratively rejoicing to be quit of the troublesomeboys. 

Before they had gone far an eldritch shout of laughter was respondedto by a burst of furious dismay and imprecation. The boat with thetwo boys was drifting out to sea, and Peregrine capering wildly onthe shore, but in another instant he had vanished into the castle. 

Anne had presence of mind enough to rush to the nearest fisherman'scottage, and send him out to bring them back, and it was at thisjuncture that the two mothers arrived on the scene. There waslittle real danger. A rope was thrown and caught, and after abouthalf an hour of watching they were safely landed, but the tide hadebbed so far that they had to take off their shoes and stockings andwade through the mud. They were open-mouthed against the imp whohad enticed them to rock in the boat, then in one second had cut thepainter, bounded out, and sent them adrift with his mocking 'Ho! ho!ho!' Sedley Archfield clenched his fists, and gazed round wildly insearch of the goblin to chastise him soundly, and Charles was readyto rush all over the castle in search of him. 

"Two to one!" cried Anne, "and he so small; you would never be socowardly. "

"As if he were like an honest fellow, " said Charley. "A goblin likethat has his odds against a dozen of us. "

"I'd teach him, if I could but catch him, " cried Sedley. 

"I told you, " said Anne, "that he would be good if you would let himalone and not plague him. "

"Now, Anne, " said Charles, as he sat putting on his stockings, "howcould I stand being cast off for that hobgoblin, that looks as if hehad been cut out of a root of yew with a blunt knife, and allcrooked! I that always was your sweetheart, to see you consortingwith a mis-shapen squinting Whig of a Nonconformist like that. "

"Nonconformist! I'll Nonconform him indeed, " added Sedley. "I wishI had the wringing of his neck. "

"Now is not that hard!" said Anne; "a poor lad who has been verysick, and that every one baits and spurns. "

"Serve him right, " said Sedley; "he shall have more of the samesauce!"

"I think he has cast his spell on Anne, " added Charles, "or how canshe stand up for him?"

"My mamma bade me be kind to him. "

"Kind! I would as lief be kind to a toad!" put in Lucy. 

"To see you kind to him makes me sick, " exclaimed Charles. "You seewhat comes of it. "

"It did not come of my kindness, but of your unkindness, " reasonedAnne. 

"I told you so, " said Charles. "You would have been best pleased ifwe had been carried out to sea and drowned!"

Anne burst into tears and disavowed any such intention, and Charleswas protesting that he would only forgive her on condition of hernever showing any kindness to Peregrine again, when a sudden showerof sand and pebbles descended, one of them hitting Sedley prettysharply on the ear. The boys sprang up with a howl of imprecationand vengeance, but no one was to be seen, only 'Ho! ho! ho!'resounded from the battlements. Off they rushed headlong, but thenearest door was in a square tower a good way off, and when theyreached it the door defied their efforts of frantic rage, whilstanother shower descended on them from above, accompanied by theusual shout. But while they were dashing off in quest of anotherentrance they were met by a servant sent to summon them to returnhome. Coach and horses were at the door, and Lady Archfield was inhaste to get them away, declaring that she should not think theirlives safe near that fiendish monster. Considering that Sedley wasnearly twice as big as Peregrine, and Charles a strong well-grownlad, this was a tribute to his preternatural powers. 

Very unwillingly they went, and if Lady Archfield had not kept astrict watch from her coach window, they would certainly have turnedback to revenge the pranks played on them. The last view of themshowed Sedley turning round shaking his whip and clenching his teethin defiance. Mrs. Woodford was greatly concerned, especially asPeregrine could not be found and did not appear at supper. 

"Had he run away to sea?" the usual course of refractory lads atPortchester, but for so slight a creature only half recovered it didnot seem probable. It was more likely that he had gone home, andthat Mrs. Woodford felt as somewhat a mortifying idea. However, onlooking into his chamber, as she sought her own, she beheld him inbed, with his face turned into the pillow, whether asleep orfeigning slumber there was no knowing. 

Later, she heard sounds that induced her to go and look at him. Hewas starting, moaning, and babbling in his sleep. But with morningall his old nature seemed to have returned. 

There was a hedgehog in Anne's bowl of milk, Mrs. Woodford's poultrywere cackling hysterically at an unfortunate kitten suspended froman apple tree and let down and drawn up among them. The three-legged stool of the old waiting-woman 'toppled down headlong' asthough by the hands of Puck, and even on Anne's arms certain blackand blue marks of nails were discovered, and when her motherexamined her on them she only cried and begged not to be made toanswer. 

And while Dr. Woodford was dozing in his chair as usual after thenoonday dinner Mrs. Woodford actually detected a hook suspended froma horsehair descending in the direction of his big horn spectacles, and quietly moving across to frustrate the attempt, she unearthedPeregrine on a chair angling from behind the window curtain. 

She did not speak, but fixed her calm eyes on him with a look ofsad, grave disappointment as she wound up the line. In a fewseconds the boy had thrown himself at her feet, rolling as if inpain, and sobbing out, "'Tis all of no use! Let me alone. "

Nevertheless he obeyed the hushing gesture of her hand, and held hisbreath, as she led him out to the garden-seat, where they had spentso many happy quiet hours. Then he flung himself down and repeatedhis exclamation, half piteous, half defiant. "Leave me alone!Leave me alone! It has me! It is all of no use. "

"What has you, my poor child?"

"The evil spirit. You will have it that I'm not one of--one ofthem--so it must be as my father says, that I am possessed--the evilspirit. I was at peace with you--so happy--happier than ever I wasbefore--and now--those boys. It has me again--I could not help it--I've even hurt her--Mistress Anne. Let me alone--send me home--tobe scorned, and shunned, and brow-beaten--and as bad as ever--thenat least she will be safe from me. "

All this came out between sobs such that Mrs. Woodford could notattempt to speak, but she kept her hand on him, and at last shesaid, when he could hear her: "Every one of us has to fight with anevil spirit, and when we are not on our guard he is but too apt totake advantage of us. "

The boy rather sullenly repeated that it was of no use to fightagainst his. 

"Indeed! Nay. Were you ever so much grieved before at having lethim have the mastery?"

"No--but no one ever was good to me before. "

"Yes; all about you lived under a cruel error, and you helped themin it. But if you had not a better nature in you, my poor child, you would not be happy here and thankful for what we can do foryou. "

"I was like some one else here, " said Peregrine, picking a daisy topieces, "but they stirred it all up. And at home I shall be justthe same as ever I was. "

She longed to tell him that there was hope of a change in his life, but she durst not till it was more certain, so she said--

"There was One who came to conquer the evil spirit and the evilnature, and to give each one of us the power to get the victory. The harder the victory, the more glorious!" and her eyes sparkled atthe thought. 

He caught a moment's glow, then fell back. "For those that arechosen, " he said. 

"You are chosen--you were chosen by your baptism. You have thestirrings of good within you. You can win and beat back the evilside of you in Christ's strength, if you will ask for it, and go onin His might. "

The boy groaned. Mrs. Woodford knew that the great point with himwould be to teach him to hope and to pray, but the very name ofprayer had been rendered so distasteful to him that she scarce durstpress the subject by name, and her heart sank at the thought ofsending him home again, but she was glad to be interrupted, and saidno more. 

At night, however, she heard sounds of moaning and stifled babblingthat reminded her of his times of delirium, and going into his roomshe found him tossing and groaning so that it was manifestly akindness to wake him; but her gentle touch occasioned a scream ofterror, and he started aside with open glassy eyes, crying, "Oh takeme not!"

"My dear boy! It is I. Perry, do you not know me?"

"Oh, madam!" in infinite relief, "it is you. I thought--I thought Iwas in elfland and that they were paying me for the tithe to hell;"and he still shuddered all over. 

"No elf--no elf, dear boy; a christened boy--God's child, and underHis care;" and she began the 121st Psalm. 

"Oh, but I am not under His shadow! The Evil One has had me again!He will have me. Aren't those his claws? He will have me!"

"Never, my child, if you will cry to God for help. Say this withme, 'Lord, be Thou my keeper. '"

He did so, and grew more quiet, and she began to repeat Dr. Ken'sevening hymn, which had become known in manuscript in Winchester. It soothed him, and she thought he was dropping off to sleep, but nosooner did she move than he started with "There it is again--theblack wings--the claws--" then while awake, "Say it again! Oh, sayit again. Fold me in your prayers--you can pray. " She went back tothe verse, and he became quiet, but her next attempt to leave himcaused an entreaty that she would remain, nor could she quit himtill the dawn, happily very early, was dispelling the terrors of thenight, and then, when he had himself murmured once--

"Let no ill dreams disturb my rest, No powers of darkness me molest, "

he fell asleep at last, with a softer look on his pinched face. Poor boy, would that verse be his first step to prayer anddeliverance from his own too real enemy?

CHAPTER VII: THE ENVOY

"I then did ask of her, her changeling child. "

Midsummer Night's Dream. 

Mrs. Woodford was too good a housewife to allow herself any extrarest on account of her vigil, and she had just put her Juneatingapple-tart into the oven when Anne rushed into the kitchen with thewarning that there was a grand gentleman getting off his horse atthe gateway, and speaking to her uncle--she thought it must bePeregrine's uncle. 

Mrs. Woodford was of the same opinion, and asked where Peregrinewas. 

"Fast asleep in the window-seat of the parlour, mother! I did notwaken him, for he looked so tired. "

"That was right, my little maiden, " said Mrs. Woodford, hastilywashing her hands, taking off her cooking apron, letting down herblack gown from its pocket holes, and arranging her veil-likewidow's coif, after which, in full trim for company, she sallied outto the front door, to avert, if possible, the wakening of the boy, whom she wished to appear to the best advantage. 

She met in the garden her brother-in-law, and Sir PeregrineOakshott, on being presented to her, made such a bow as had seldombeen seen in those parts, as he politely said that he was the bearerof his brother's thanks for her care of his nephew. 

Mrs. Woodford explained that the boy had had so bad a night that itwould be well not to break his present sleep, and invited the guestto walk in the garden or sit in the Doctor's study or in the shadeof the castle wall. 

This last was what he preferred, and there they seated themselves, with a green slope before them down to the pale gray creek, and thehill beyond lying in the summer sunshine. 

"I have been long in coming hither, " said the knight, "partly onaccount of letters on affairs of State, and partly likewise becauseI desired to come alone, thinking that I might better understand howit is with the lad without the presence of his father or brothers. "

"I am very glad you have so done, sir. "

"Then, madam, I entreat of you to speak freely and tell me youropinion of him without reserve. You need not fear offence byspeaking of the mode in which they have treated him at home. Mypoor brother has meant to do his duty, but he has stood so far alooffrom his sons that he has dealt with them in ignorance, and theirmother, between sickliness and timidity, is a mere prey to the follyof her gossips. So speak plainly, madam, I beg of you. "

Mrs. Woodford did speak plainly of the boy's rooted belief in hisown elfish origin, and how when arguing against it she had found thealternative even sadder and more hopeless, how well he comportedhimself as long as he was treated as a human and rational being, buthow the taunts and jests of the young Archfields had renewed all themischief, to the poor fellow's own remorse and despair. 

Sir Peregrine listened with only a word of comment, or question nowand then, like a man of the world well used to hearing all before hecommitted himself, and the description was only just ended when theclang of the warning dinner-bell sounded and they rose; but as theywere passing the window of the dining-parlour a shriek of Anne'sstartled them all, and as they sprang forward, Mrs. Woodford first, Peregrine's voice was heard, "No, no, Anne, don't be afraid. It isfor me he is come; I knew he would. "

Something in a strange language was heard. A black face with roundeyes and gleaming teeth might be seen bending forward. Anne gaveanother shriek, but was heard crying, "No, no! Get away, sir. Heis our Lord Christ's! He is! You can't! you shan't have him. "

And Anne was seen standing over Peregrine, who had droppedshuddering and nearly fainting on the floor, while she stoodvaliantly up warding off the advance of him whom she took for thePrince of Darkness, and in her excitement not at first aware ofthose who were come to her aid at the window. In one second thenegro was saying something which his master answered, and sent himoff. Mrs. Woodford had called out, "Don't be afraid, dear children. 'Tis Sir Peregrine's black servant"; and the Doctor, "Foolishchildren! What is this nonsense?" A moment or two more and theywere in the room, Anne, all trembling, flying up to her mother andhiding her face against her between fright and shame at not havingthought of the black servant, and the while they lifted upPeregrine, who, as he met his kind friend's eyes, said faintly, "Ishe gone? Was it the dream again?"

"It was your uncle's blackamoor servant, " said Mrs. Woodford. "Youwoke up, and no wonder you were startled. Come with me, both ofyou, and make you ready for dinner. "

Peregrine had rather collapsed than fainted, for he was able to walkwith her hand on his shoulder, and Sir Peregrine understood her signand did not attempt to accost either of the children, though as theDoctor took him to his chamber he expressed his admiration of thelittle maiden. 

"That's the right woman, " he said, "losing herself when there is oneto guard. Nay, sir, she needs no excuse. Such a spirit may wellredeem a child's mistake. "

Mrs. Woodford had reassured the children, so that they were morethan half ashamed, though scarce willing to reappear when she hadmade Peregrine wash his face and hands, smooth the hair ruffled inhis nap, freshly tying his little cravat and the ribbons on hisshoes and at his knees. To make his hair into anything but elflocks, or to obliterate the bristly tuft that made him like Riquet, was impossible, illness had made him additionally lean and sallow, and his keen eyes, under their black contracted brows and darklashes, showed all the more the curious variation in their tints, and with an obliquity that varied according to the state of thenerves. There was a satirical mischievous cast in the mould of theface, though individually the features were not amiss except fortheir thinness, and in fact the unpleasantness of the expression hadinsensibly been softened during this last month, and there wasnothing repellent, though much that was quaint, in the slightfigure, with the indescribably one-sided air, and stature morebefitting ten than fourteen years. What would the visitor think ofhim? The Doctor called to him, "Come, Peregrine, your uncle, SirPeregrine Oakshott, has been good enough to come over to see you. "

Peregrine had been well trained enough in that bitter school of hometo make a correct bow, though his feelings were betrayed by hisyellow eye going almost out of sight. 

"My namesake--your father will not let me say my godson, " said SirPeregrine smiling. "We ought to be good friends. "

The boy looked up. Perhaps he had never been greeted in so human amanner before, and there was something confiding in the way thosebony fingers of his rested a moment in his uncle's clasp. 

"And this is your little daughter, madam, Peregrine's kind playmate?You may well be proud of her valour, " said the knight, while Annemade her courtesy, which he, in the custom of the day, returned witha kiss; and she, who had been mortally ashamed of her terror, marvelled at his praise. 

The pair of fowls were by this time on the table, and good mannersrequired silence on the part of the children, but while SirPeregrine explained that he had been appointed by his Majesty asEnvoy to the Elector of Brandenburg, and gave various interestingparticulars of foreign life, Mrs. Woodford saw that he was keeping aquiet watch over his nephew's habits at table, and she was thankfulthat when unmoved by any wayward spirit of mischief they were quitebeyond reproach. Something of the refinement of his poor mother'stastes must have been inherited by Peregrine, for a certaindaintiness of taste and habit had probably added to his discomfortsin the austere, not to say rude simplicity imposed upon the childrenof the family. 

When the meal was over the children were dismissed to the garden, but bidden to keep within call, in case Sir Peregrine should wish tosee his nephew again. The others repaired again to the garden seat, with wine and fruit, but the knight begged Mrs. Woodford not toleave them. 

"I am satisfied, " he said. "The boy shows gentle blood andbreeding. There was cause enough for fright without cowardice, andthere is not, what I was led to fear, such uncouthness orungainliness as should hinder me from having him with me. "

"Oh, sir, is that your purpose?" cried the lady, almost as eagerlyas if it had been high preferment for her own child. 

"I had thought thereon, " said the envoy. "There is reason that heshould be my charge, and my brother is like to give a ready consent, since he is sorely perplexed what to do with this poor untowardslip. "

"He would be less untoward were he happier, " said Mrs. Woodford. "Indeed, sir, I do not think you will repent it, if--" and shepaused. 

"What would you say, madam?"

"If only all your honour's household are absolutely ignorant of allthese tales. "

"That can well be, madam. I have only one body-servant with me, this unlucky blackamoor, who speaks nothing save Dutch. I hadalready thought of leaving my grooms here, and returning to Londonby sea, and this could well be done, and would cut off all channelsof gossiping. The boy is, the chaplain tells me, quick-witted, anda fair scholar for his years, and I can find good schooling forhim. "

"When his head is able to bear it, " said Mrs. Woodford. 

"Truly, sir, " added the Doctor, "you are doing a good work, and Itrust that the boy will requite you worthily. "

"I tell your reverence, " said Sir Peregrine, "crooked stick thoughthey term him, I had ten times rather have the dealing with him thanwith those comely great lubbers his brothers! The question now is, shall I tell him what is in store for him?"

"I should say, " returned Dr. Woodford, "that provided it is certainthat the intention can be carried out, nothing would be so good forhim as hope. Do you not say so, sister?"

"Indeed I do, " she replied. "I believe that he would be a verydifferent boy if he were relieved from the misery he suffers at homeand requites by mischievous pranks. I do not say he will or can bea good lad at once, but if your honour can have patience with him, Ido believe there is that in him which can be turned to good. If heonly can believe in the better nature and higher guidings, and pray, and not give himself up in despair. " She had tears in her eyes. 

"My good madam, I can believe it all, " said Sir Peregrine. "Shortof being supposed an elf, I have gone through the same, and it wasnot my good father's fault that I did not loathe the very name ofpreaching or prayer. But I had a mother who knew how to deal withme, whereas this poor child's mother, I am sure, believes in hersecret heart that he is none of hers, though she has enough sensenot to dare to avow it. Alas! I cannot give the boy the woman'stending by which you have already wrought so much, " and Mrs. Woodford remembered to have heard that his wife had died atRotterdam, "but I can treat him like a human being, I hope indeed asa son; and, at any rate, there will be no one to remind him of theseold wives' tales. "

"I can only say that I am heartily rejoiced, " said Mrs. Woodford. 

So Peregrine was summoned, and shambled up, his eyes showing that heexpected a trying interview, and, moreover, with a certain twinkleof mischief or perverseness in their corners. 

"Soh! my lad, we ought to be better acquainted, " said the uncle. "D'ye know what our name means?"

"Peregrinus, a vagabond, " responded the boy. 

"Eh! The translation may be correct, but 'tis scarce the mostcomplimentary. I wonder now if you, like me, were born on aWednesday. 'Wednesday's child has far to go. '"

"No. I was born on a Sunday, and if to see goblins and oafs--"

"Nay, I read it, 'Sunday's child is full of grace. '"

Peregrine's mouth twitched ironically, but his uncle continued, "Look you, my boy, what say you to fulfilling the augury of yourname with me. His Majesty has ordered me off again to represent theBritish name to the Elector of Brandenburg, and I have a mind tocarry you with me. What do you say?"

If any one expected Peregrine to be overjoyed his demeanour wasdisappointing. He shuffled with his feet, and after two or three"Ehs?" from his uncle, he mumbled, "I don't care, " and then shranktogether, as one prepared for the stripe with the riding-whip whichsuch a rude answer merited: but his uncle had, as a diplomate, learnt a good deal of patience, and he said, "Ha! don't care toleave home and brothers. Eh?"

Peregrine's chin went down, and there was no answer; his hairdropped over his heavy brow. 

"See, boy, this is no jest, " said his uncle. "You are too big to betold that 'I'll put you into my pocket and carry you off. ' I am inearnest. "

Peregrine looked up, and with one sudden flash surveyed his uncle. His lips trembled, but he did not speak. 

"It is sudden, " said the knight to the other two. "See, boy, I amnot about to take you away with me now. In a week or ten days' timeI start for London; and there we will fit you out for Konigsberg orBerlin, and I trust we shall make a man of you, and a good man. Your tutor tells me you have excellent parts, and I mean that youshall do me credit. "

Dr. Woodford could not help telling the lad that he ought to thankhis uncle, whereat he scowled; but Sir Peregrine said, "He is notready for that yet. Wait till he feels he has something to thank mefor. "

So Peregrine was dismissed, and his friends exclaimed with somewonder and annoyance that the boy who had been willing to bedecapitated to put an end to his wretchedness, should be soreluctant to accept such an offer, but Sir Peregrine only laughed, and said--

"The lad has pith in him! I like him better than if he came like aspaniel to my foot. But I will say no more till I fully have mybrother's consent. No one knows what crooks there may be in folks'minds. "

He took his leave, and presently Mrs. Woodford had a fresh surprise. She found this strange boy lying flat on the grass, sobbing as ifhis heart would break, and when she tried to soothe and comfort himit was very hard to get a word from him; but at last, as she asked, "And does it grieve you so much to leave home?" the answer was--

"No, no! not home!"

"What is it, then? What are you sorry to leave?"

"Oh, _you_ don't know! you and Anne--the only ones that ever weregood to me--and drove away--_it_. "

"Nay, my dear boy. Your uncle means to be good to you. "

"No, no. No one ever will be like you and Anne. Oh, let me staywith you, or they will have me at last!"

He was too much shaken, in his still half-recovered state, by theevents of these last days, to be reasoned with. Mrs. Woodford wasafraid he would work himself into delirium, and could only soothehim into a calmer state. She found from Anne that the children hadsome vague hopes of his being allowed to remain at Portchester, andthat this was the ground of his disappointment, since he seemed tobe attaching himself to them as the first who had ever touched hisheart or opened to him a gleam of better things. 

By the next day, however, he was in a quieter and more reasonablestate, and Mrs. Woodford was able to have a long talk with him. Sherepresented that the difference of opinions made it almost certainthat his father would never consent to his remaining under her roof, and that even if this were possible, Portchester was far too muchinfected with the folly from which he had suffered so much; and hisuncle would take care that no one he would meet should ever hear ofit. 

"There's little good in that, " said the boy moodily. "I'm a thingthey'll jibe at and bait any way. "

"I do not see that, if you take pains with yourself. Your unclesaid you showed blood and breeding, and when you are better dressed, and with him, no one will dare to mock his Excellency's nephew. Depend upon it, Peregrine, this is the fresh start that you need. "

"If you were there--"

"My boy, you must not ask for what is impossible. You must learn toconquer in God's strength, not mine. "

All, however, that passed may not here be narrated, and itapparently left that wayward spirit unconvinced. Nevertheless, whenon the second day Major Oakshott himself came over with his brother, and informed Peregrine that his uncle was good enough to undertakethe charge of him, and to see that he was bred up in godly ways in aProtestant land, free from prelacy and superstition, the boy seemedreconciled to his fate. Major Oakshott spoke more kindly than usualto him, being free from fresh irritation at his misdemeanours; buteven thus there was a contrast with the gentler, more persuasivetones of the diplomatist, and no doubt this tended to increasePeregrine's willingness to be thus handed over. 

The next question was whether he should go home first, but both theuncle and the friends were averse to his remaining there, amid theunavoidable gossip and chatter of the household, and it wastherefore decided that he should only ride over with Dr. Woodfordfor an hour or two to take leave of his mother and brothers. 

This settled, Mrs. Woodford found him much easier to deal with. Hehad really, through his midnight invocation of the fairies, obtainedan opening into a new world, and he was ready to believe that withno one to twit him with being a changeling or worse, he could avoidperpetual disgrace and punishment and live at peace. Nor was heunwilling to promise Mrs. Woodford to say daily, and especially whentempted, one or two brief collects and ejaculations which sheselected to teach him, as being as unlike as possible to the longextempore exercises which had made him hate the very name of prayer. The Doctor gave him a Greek Testament, as being least connected withunpleasant recollections. 

"And, " entreated Peregrine humbly, in a low voice to Mrs. Woodfordon his last Sunday evening, "may I not have something of yours, tolay hold of, and remember you if--when--the evil spirit tries to layhold of me again?"

She would fain have given him a prayer-book, but she knew that wouldbe treason to his father, and with tears in her eyes and somethingof a pang, she gave him a tiny miniature of herself, which had beenher husband's companion at sea, and hung it round his neck with thechain of her own hair that had always held it. 

"It will always keep my heart warm, " said Peregrine, as he hid itunder his vest. There was a shade of disappointment on Anne's facewhen he showed it to her, for she had almost deemed it her own. 

"Never mind, Anne, " he said; "I am coming back a knight like myuncle to marry you, and then it will be yours again. "

"I--I'm not going to wed you--I have another sweetheart, " added Annein haste, lest he should think she scorned him. 

"Oh, that lubberly Charles Archfield! No fear of him. He ispromised long ago to some little babe of quality in London. You maywhistle for him. So you'd better wait for me. "

"It is not true. You only say it to plague me. "

"It's as true as Gospel! I heard Sir Philip telling one of the bigblack gowns one day in the Close, when I was sitting up in a treeoverhead, how they had fixed a marriage between his son and his oldfriend's daughter, who would have ever so many estates. So I'd givethat"--snapping his fingers--"for your chances of being my LadyArchfield in the salt mud at Fareham. "

"I shall ask Lucy. It is not kind of you, Perry, when you are justgoing away. "

"Come, come, don't cry, Anne. "

"But I knew Charley ever so long first, and--"

"Oh, yes. Maids always like straight, comely, dull fellows, I knowthat. But as you can't have Charles Archfield, I mean to have you, Anne--for I shall look to you as the only one as can ever make agood man of me! Ay--your mother--I'd wed her if I could, but as Ican't, I mean to have you, Anne Woodford. "

"I don't mean to have you! I shall go to Court, and marry somenoble earl or gentleman! Why do you laugh and make that face, Peregrine? you know my father was almost a knight--"

"Nobody is long with you without knowing that!" retorted Peregrine;"but a miss is as good as a mile, and you will find the earls andthe lords will think so, and be fain to take the crooked stick atlast!"

Mistress Anne tossed her head--and Peregrine returned a grimace. Nevertheless they parted with a kiss, and for some time the thoughtof Peregrine haunted the little girl with a strange, fatefulfeeling, between aversion and attraction, which wore off, as a follyof her childhood, with her growth in years. 

CHAPTER VIII: THE RETURN

"I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose inFrance, his bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour everywhere. "

Merchant of Venice. 

It was autumn, but in the year 1687, when again Lucy Archfield andAnne Jacobina Woodford were pacing the broad gravel walk along thesouth side of the nave of Winchester Cathedral. Lucy, in spite ofher brocade skirt and handsome gown of blue velvet tucked up overit, was still devoid of any look of distinction, but was a round-faced, blooming, cheerful maiden, of that ladylike thoroughlycountrified type happily frequent in English girlhood throughout alltime. 

Anne, or Jacobina, as she tried to be called, towered above herhead, and had never lost that tincture of courtly grace that earlybreeding had given her, and though her skirt was of gray wool, andthe upper gown of cherry tabinet, she wore both with an air thatmade them seem more choice and stylish than those of her companion, while the simple braids and curls of her brown hair set off anunusually handsome face, pale and clear in complexion, with regularfeatures, fine arched eyebrows over clear brown eyes, a short chin, and a mouth of perfect outline, but capable of looking veryresolute. 

Altogether she looked fit for a Court atmosphere, and perhaps shewas not without hopes of it, for Dr. Woodford had become a royalchaplain under Charles II, and was now continued in the same office;and though this was a sinecure as regarded the present King, yetTory and High Church views were as much in the ascendant as theycould be under a Romanist king, and there were hopes of a canonry atWindsor or Westminster, or even higher preferment still, if he werenot reckoned too staunch an Anglican. That Mrs. Woodford's healthhad been failing for many months past would, her sanguine daughterthought, be remedied by being nearer the best physicians in London, which had been quitted with regret. Meantime Lucy's firstexperiences of wedding festivities were to be heard. For theArchfield family had just returned from celebrating the marriage ofthe heir. Long ago Anne Jacobina had learnt to reckon MasterCharles's pledges of affection among the sports and follies ofchildhood, and the strange sense of disappointment and shame withwhich she recollected them had perhaps added to her natural reserve, and made her feel it due to maidenly dignity to listen with zest tothe account of the bride, who was to be brought to supper at DoctorWoodford's that eve. 

"She is a pretty little thing, " said Lucy, "but my mother was muchconcerned to find her so mere a child, and would not, if she hadseen her, have consented to the marriage for two years to come, except for the sake of having her in our own hands. "

"I thought she was sixteen. "

"Barely fifteen, my dear, and far younger than we were at that age. She cried because her woman said she must leave her old doll behindher; and when my brother declared that she should have anything sheliked, she danced about, and kissed him, and made him kiss itswooden face with half the paint rubbed off. "

"He did?"

"Oh, yes! She is like a pretty fresh plaything to him, and they goabout together just like big Towzer and little Frisk at home. He isvery much amused with her, and she thinks him the finest possessionthat ever came in her way. "

"Well, so he is. "

"That is true; but somehow it is scarcely like husband and wife; andmy mother fears that she may be sickly, for she is so small andslight that it seems as if you could blow her away, and so whitethat you would think she had no blood, except when a little heatbrings the purest rose colour to her cheek, and that, my lady says, betokens weakliness. You know, of course, that she is an orphan;her father died of a wasting consumption, and her mother not longafter, when she was a yearling babe. It was her grandfather who wasmy father's friend in the old cavalier days, and wrote to proposethe contract to my brother not long before his death, when she wasbut five years old. The pity was that she was not sent to us atonce, for the old lord, her grand-uncle, never heeded or cared forher, but left her to servants, who petted her, but understoodnothing of care of her health or her education, so that the onlywonder is that she is alive or so sweet and winning as she is. Shecan hardly read without spelling, and I had to make copies for herof Alice Fitzhubert, to show her how to sign the book. All she knewshe learnt from the old steward, and only when she liked. My fatherlaughs and is amused, but my lady sighs, and hopes her portion isnot dearly bought. "

"Is not she to be a great heiress?"

"Not of the bulk of the lands--they go to heirs male; but there ismuch besides, enough to make Charles a richer man than our father. I wonder what you will think of her. My mother is longing to talkher over with Mrs Woodford. "

"And my mother is longing to see my lady. "

"I fear she is still but poorly. "

"We think she will be much better when we get home, " said Anne. "Iam sure she is stronger, for she walked round the Close yesterday, and was scarcely tired. "

"But tell me, Anne, is it true that poor Master Oliver Oakshott isdead of smallpox?"

"Quite true. Poor young gentleman, he was to have married thatcousin of his mother's, Mistress Martha Browning, living atEmsworth. She came on a visit, and they think she brought theinfection, for she sickened at once, and though she had itfavourably, is much disfigured. Master Oliver caught it and died inthree days, and all the house were down with it. They say poor Mrs. Oakshott forgot her ailments and went to and fro among them all. Mymother would have gone to help in their need if she had been as wellas she used to be. "

"How is it with the other son? He was a personable youth enough. Isaw him at the ship launch in the spring, and thought both ladswould fain have staid for the dance on board but for their grim oldfather. "

"You saw Robert, but he is not the elder. "

"What? Is that shocking impish urchin whom we used to call Riquetwith the tuft, older than he?"

"Certainly he is. He writes from time to time to my mother, andseems to be doing well with his uncle. "

"I cannot believe he would come to good. Do you remember hissending my brother and cousin adrift in the boat?"

"I think that was in great part the fault of your cousin for mockingand tormenting him. "

"Sedley Archfield was a bad boy! There's no denying that. I amafraid he had good reason for running away from college. "

"Have you heard of him since?"

"Yes; he has been serving with the Life-guards in Scotland, andmayhap he will come home and see us. My father wishes to seewhether he is worthy to have a troop procured by money or favour forhim, and if they are recalled to the camp at November it will be anopportunity. But see--who is coming through the Slype?"

"My uncle. And who is with him?"

Dr. Woodford advanced, and with him a small slender figure in black. As the broad hat with sable plume was doffed with a sweep onapproaching the ladies, a dark head and peculiar countenanceappeared, while the Doctor said, "Here is an old acquaintance, youngladies, whom I met dismounting at the White Hart, and have broughthome with me. "

"Mr. Peregrine Oakshott!" exclaimed Anne, feeling bound to offer inwelcome a hand, which he kissed after the custom of the day, whileLucy dropped a low and formal courtesy, and being already close tothe gate of the house occupied by her family, took her leave tillsupper-time. 

Even in the few steps before reaching home Anne was able to perceivethat a being very unlike the imp of seven years ago had returned, though still short in stature and very slight, with long dark hairhanging straight enough to suggest elf-locks, but his figure waswell proportioned, and had a finished air of high breeding andtraining. His riding suit was point device, from the ostrichfeather in his hat, to the toes of his well made boots, and hissword knew its place, as well as did those of the gentlemen thatAnne remembered at the Duke of York's when she was a little child. His thin, marked face was the reverse of handsome, but it was keen, shrewd, perhaps satirical, and the remarkable eyes were very brightunder dark eyebrows and lashes, and the thin lips, devoid of hair, showed fine white teeth when parted by a smile of gladness--at themeeting--though he was concerned to hear that Mrs. Woodford had beenvery ill all the last spring, and had by no means regained herformer health, and even in the few words that passed it might begathered that Anne was far more hopeful than her uncle. 

She did indeed look greatly changed, though her countenance wassweeter than ever, as she rose from her seat by the fire and heldout her arms to receive the newcomer with a motherly embrace, whilethe expression of joy and affection was such as could never oncehave seemed likely to sit on Peregrine Oakshott's features. Theywere left together, for Anne had the final touches to put to thesupper, and Dr. Woodford was sent for to speak to one of theCathedral staff. 

Peregrine explained that he was on his way home, his father havingrecalled him on his brother's death, but he hoped soon to rejoin hisuncle, whose secretary he now was. They had been for the last fewmonths in London, and were thence to be sent on an embassy to theyoung Czar of Muscovy, an expedition to which he looked forward witheager curiosity. Mrs. Woodford hoped that all danger of infectionat Oakwood was at an end. 

"There is none for me, madam, " he said, with a curious writhedsmile. "Did you not know that they thought they were rid of me whenI took the disease at seven years old, and lay in the loft over thehen-house with Molly Owens to tend me? and I believe it was thoughtto be fairy work that I came out of it no more unsightly thanbefore. "

"You are seeking for compliments, Peregrine; you are greatlyimproved. "

"Crooked sticks can be pruned and trained, " he responded, with acourteous bow. 

"You are a travelled man. Let me see, how many countries have youseen?"

"A year at Berlin and Konigsberg--strange places enough, speciallythe last, two among the scholars and high roofs of Leyden, half ayear at Versailles and Paris, another year at Turin, whence back foranother half year to wait on old King Louis, then to the Hague, andthe last three months at Court. Not much like buying and sellingcows, or growing wheat on the slopes, or lying out on a coldwinter's night to shoot a few wild fowl; and I have you to thank forit, my first and best friend!"

"Nay, your uncle is surely your best. "

"Never would he have picked up the poor crooked stick save for you, madam. Moreover, you gave me my talisman, " and he laid his hand onhis breast; "it is your face that speaks to me and calls me backwhen the elf, or whatever it is, has got the mastery of me. "

Somewhat startled, Mrs. Woodford would have asked what he meant, butthat intelligence was brought that Mr. Oakshott's man had broughthis mail, so that he had to repair to his room. Mrs. Woodford hadkept up some correspondence with him, for which his uncle's positionas envoy afforded unusual facilities, and she knew that on the wholehe had been a very different being from what he was at home. Once, indeed, his uncle had written to the Doctor to express his fullsatisfaction in the lad, on whom he seemed to look like a son, butfrom some subsequent letters she had an impression that he had gotinto trouble of some sort while at the University of Leyden, and shewas afraid that she must accept the belief that the wild elfishspirit, as he called it, was by no means extinct in him, any more, she said to herself, than temptation is in any human creature. Thequestion is, What is there to contend therewith?

The guests were, however, about to assemble. The Doctor, in blackvelvet cap and stately silken cassock, sash, and gown, sailed downto receive them, and again greeted Peregrine, who emerged in blackvelvet and satin, delicate muslin cravat and cuffs, dainty silkstockings and rosetted shoes, in a style such as made the far tallerand handsomer Charles Archfield, in spite of gay scarlet coat, embroidered flowery vest, rich laced cravat, and thick shining browncurls, look a mere big schoolboy, almost bumpkin-like in contrast. However, no one did look at anything but the little creature whocould just reach to hang upon that resplendent bridegroom's arm. She was in glistening white brocade, too stiff and cumbrous for sotiny a figure, yet together with the diamonds glistening on her headand breast giving her the likeness of a fairy queen. The whitenesswas almost startling, for the neck and arms were like pearl in tint, the hair flowing in full curls on her shoulders was like shiningflax or pale silk just unwound from the cocoon, and the only reliefof colour was the deep blue of the eyes, the delicate tint of thelips, and the tender rosy flush that was called up by herpresentation to her hosts by stout old Sir Philip, in plum-colouredcoat and full-bottomed wig, though she did not blush half as much asthe husband of nineteen in his new character. Indeed, had it notbeen for her childish prettiness, her giggle would have beenunpleasing to more than Lady Archfield, who, broad and matronly, gave a courtesy and critical glance at Peregrine before subsidinginto a seat beside Mrs. Woodford. 

Lucy stood among a few other young people from the Close, watchingfor Anne, who came in, trim and bright, though still somewhatreddened in face and arms from her last attentions to the supper--anelaborate meal on such occasions, though lighter than the mid-dayrepast. There were standing pies of game, lobster and oysterpatties, creams, jellies, and other confections, on which Sir Philipand his lady highly complimented Anne, who had been engaged on themfor at least a couple of days, her mother being no longer able toassist except by advice. 

"See, daughter Alice, you will learn one day to build up a jelly aswell as to eat it, " said Sir Philip good-humouredly, whereat thesmall lady pouted a little and said--

"Bet lets me make shapes of the dough, but I won't stir the pans andget to look like a turkey-cock. "

"Ah, ha! and you have always done what you liked, my little madam?"

"Of course, sir! and so I shall, " she answered, drawing up herpretty little head, while Lady Archfield gave hers a boding shake. 

"Time, and life, and wifehood teach lessons, " murmured Mrs. Woodfordin consolation, and the Doctor changed the subject by askingPeregrine whether the ladies abroad were given to housewifery. 

"The German dames make a great ado about their Wirthschaft, as theycall it, " was the reply, "but as to the result! Pah! I know nothow we should have fared had not Hans, my uncle's black, been anexcellent cook; but it was in Paris that we were exquisitelyregaled, and our maitre d'hotel would discourse on ragouts andentremets till one felt as if his were the first of the sciences. "

"So it is to a Frenchman, " growled Sir Philip. "French andFrenchifications are all the rage nowadays, but what will yourfather say to your science, my young spark?"

The gesture of head and shoulder that replied had certainly beencaught at Paris. Mrs. Woodford rushed into the breach, asking aboutthe Princess of Orange, whom she had often seen as a child. 

"A stately and sightly dame is she, madam, " Peregrine answered, "towering high above her little mynheer, who outwardly excels her innaught save the length of nose, and has the manners of a boor. "

"The Prince of Orange is the hope of the country, " said Sir Philipseverely. 

Peregrine's face wore a queer satirical look, which provoked SirPhilip into saying, "Speak up, sir! what d'ye mean? We don'tunderstand French grins here. "

"Nor does he, nor French courtesies either, " said Peregrine. 

"So much the better!" exclaimed the baronet. 

Here the little clear voice broke in, "O Mr. Oakshott, if I had butknown you were coming, you might have brought me a French doll inthe latest fashion. "

"I should have been most happy, madam, " returned Peregrine; "butunfortunately I am six months from Paris, and besides, his honourmight object lest a French doll should contaminate the Dutchpuppets. "

"But oh, sir, is it true that French dolls have real hair that willcurl?"

"Don't be foolish, " muttered Charles impatiently; and she drew upher head and made an indescribably droll moue of disgust at him. 

Supper ended, the party broke up into old and young, the two eldergentlemen sadly discussing politics over their tall glasses of wine, the matrons talking over the wedding and Lady Archfield's stay inLondon at the parlour fire, and the young folk in a window, waitingfor the fiddler and a few more of the young people who were to jointhem in the dance. 

The Archfield ladies had kissed the hand of the Queen, and agreedwith Peregrine in admiration of her beauty and grace, though theydid not go so far as he did, especially when he declared that hereyes were as soft as Mistress Anne's, and nearly of the sameexquisite brown, which made the damsel blush and experience arevival of the old feeling of her childhood, as if he put her undera spell. 

He went on to say that he had had the good fortune to pick up andrestore to Queen Mary Beatrice a gold and coral rosary which she haddropped on her way to St. James's Palace from Whitehall. Shethanked him graciously, letting him kiss her hand, and asking him ifhe were of the true Church. "Imagine my father's feelings, " headded, "when she said, 'Ah! but you will be ere long; I give it youas a pledge. '"

He produced the rosary, handing it first to Anne, who admired thebeautiful filigree work, but it was almost snatched from her by Mrs. Archfield, who wound it twice on her tiny wrist, tried to get itover her head, and did everything but ask for it, till her husband, turning round, said roughly, "Give it back, madam. We want noPopish toys here. "

Lucy put in a hasty question whether Master Oakshott had seen muchsport, and this led to a spirited description of the homely earnestof wild boar hunting under the great Elector of Brandenburg, incontrast with the splendours of la chasse aux sangliers atFontainebleau with the green and gold uniforms, the fanfares on thecurled horns, the ladies in their coaches, forced to attend whetherill or well, the very boars themselves too well bred not to conformto the sport of the great idol of France. And again, he showed thediamond sleeve buttons, the trophies of a sort of bazaar held atMarly, where the stalls were kept by the Dauphin, Monsieur, the Dukeof Maine, Madame de Maintenon, and the rest, where the purchaseswere winnings at Ombre, made not with coin but with nominal sums, and other games at cards, and all was given away that was notpurchased. And again the levees, when the King's wig was handedthrough the curtains on a stick. Peregrine's profane mimicry of thestately march of Louis Quatorze, and the cringing obeisances of hiscourtiers, together with their strutting majesty towards their owninferiors, convulsed all with merriment; and the bride shrieked out, "Do it again! Oh, I shall die of laughing!"

It was very girlish, with a silvery ring, but the elder ladieslooked round, and the bridegroom muttered 'Mountebank. '

The fiddler arrived at that moment, and the young people paired off, the young couple naturally together, and Peregrine, to the surpriseand perhaps discomfiture of more than one visitor, securing Anne'shand. The young lady pupils of Madame knew their steps, and Lucydanced correctly, Anne with an easy, stately grace, CharlesArchfield performed his devoir seriously, his little wife friskedwith childish glee, evidently quite untaught, but Peregrine's lightnarrow feet sprang, pointed themselves, and bounded with trainedagility, set off by the tight blackness of his suit. He was likeone of the grotesque figures shaped in black paper, or as SirPhilip, looking in from the dining-parlour, observed, "like a light-heeled French fop. "

As a rule partners retained one another all the evening, but littleMrs. Archfield knew no etiquette, and maybe her husband had pushedand pulled her into place a little more authoritatively than shequite approved, for she shook him off, and turning round toPeregrine exclaimed--

"Now, I will dance with you! You do leap and hop so high andtrippingly! Never mind her; she is only a parson's niece!"

"Madam!" exclaimed Charles, in a tone of surprised displeasure; butshe only nodded archly at him, and said, "I must dance with him; hecan jump so high. "

"Let her have her way, " whispered Lucy, "she is but a child, and itwill be better not to make a pother. "

He yielded, though with visible annoyance, asking Anne if she wouldput up with a poor deserted swain, and as he led her off muttering, "That fellow's friskiness is like to be taken out of him atOakwood. "

Meanwhile the small creature had taken possession of her chosenpartner, who, so far as size went, was far better suited to her thanany of the other men present. They were dancing something originaland unpremeditated, with twirls and springs, sweeps and bends, bounds and footings, just as the little lady's fancy prompted, perhaps guided in some degree by her partner's experience ofnational dances. White and black, they figured about, she withfloating sheeny hair and glistening robes, he trim and tight andjetty, like fairy and imp! It was so droll and pretty that talkersand dancers alike paused to watch them in a strange fascination, till at last, quite breathless and pink as a moss rosebud, Alicedropped upon a chair near her husband. He stood grim, stiff, andvexed, all the more because Peregrine had taken her fan and wasusing it so as to make it wave like butterfly's wings, while poorCharles looked, as the Doctor whispered to his father, far moreinclined to lay it about her ears. 

Sir Philip laughed heartily, for both he and the Doctor had been somuch entranced and amused as to be far more diverted at the lad'sdiscomfiture than scandalised at the bride's escapade, which theyviewed as child's play. 

Perhaps, however, he was somewhat comforted by her laterobservation, "He is as ugly as Old Nick, and looks like alwayslaughing at you; but I wish you could dance like him, Mr. Archfield, only then you wouldn't be my dear old great big husband, or sobeautiful to look at. Oh, yes, to be sure, he is nothing but askipjack such as one makes out of a chicken bone!"

And Anne meanwhile was exclaiming to her mother, "Oh, madam! howcould they do such a thing? How could they make poor Charley marrythat foolish ill-mannered little creature?"

"Hush, daughter, you must drop that childish name, " said Mrs. Woodford gravely. 

Anne blushed. "I forgot, madam, but I am so sorry for him. "

"There is no reason for uneasiness, my dear. She is a mere child, and under such hands as Lady Archfield she is sure to improve. Itis far better that she should be so young, as it will be the moreeasy to mould her. "

"I hope there is any stuff in her to be moulded, " sighed the maiden. 

"My dear child, " returned her mother, "I cannot permit you to talkin this manner. Yes, I know Mr. Archfield has been as a brother toyou, but even his sister ought not to allow herself to discuss ordwell on what she deems the shortcomings of his wife. "

The mother in her prudence had silenced the girl; but none the lessdid each fall asleep with a sad and foreboding heart. She knew herchild to be good and well principled, but those early days of noticeand petting from the young Princesses of the House of York had neverfaded from the childish mind, and although Anne was dutiful, cheerful, and outwardly contented, the mother often suspected thatover the spinning-wheel or embroidery frame she indulged in daydreams of heroism, promotion, and grandeur, which might either fadeaway in a happy life of domestic duty or become temptations. 

Before going away next morning Peregrine entreated that MistressAnne might have the Queen's rosary, but her mother decidedlyrefused. "It ought to be an heirloom in your family, " said she. 

He threw up his hands with one of his strange gestures. 

CHAPTER IX: ON HIS TRAVELS

"For Satan finds some mischief stillFor idle hands to do. "

ISAAC WATTS. 

Peregrine went off in good spirits, promising a visit on his returnto London, of which he seemed to have no doubt; but no more washeard of him for ten days. At the end of that time the Portsmouthcarrier conveyed the following note to Winchester:--

HONOURED AND REVEREND SIR--Seven years since your arguments andintercession induced my father to consent to what I hoped hadbeen the rescue of me, body and soul. I know not whether to askof your goodness to make the same endeavour again. My fatherdeclares that nothing shall induce him again to let me go abroadwith my uncle, and persists in declaring that the compact hasbeen broken by our visits to Papist lands, nor will aught that Ican say persuade him that the Muscovite abhors the Pope quite asmuch as he can. He likewise deems that having unfortunatelybecome his heir, I must needs remain at home to thin the timberand watch the ploughmen; and when I have besought him to let meyield my place to Robert he replies that I am playing the part ofEsau. I have written to my uncle, who has been a true father tome, and would be loth to part from me for his own sake as well asmine but I know not whether he will be able to prevail; and Ientreat of you, reverend sir, to add your persuasions, for I wellknow that it would be my perdition to remain bound where I am. 

Commend me to Mrs. Woodford and Mistress Anne. I trust that theformer is in better health. --I remain, reverend sir, Your humbleservant to command, PEREGRINE OAKSHOTT. 

Given at Oakwood House, This 10th of October 1687. 

This was very bad news, but Dr. Woodford knew not how to interfere;moreover, being in course at the Cathedral, he could not absenthimself long enough for an expedition to Oakwood, through wintryroads in short days. He could only write an encouraging letter tothe poor lad, and likewise one to Mr. Horncastle, who under theIndulgence had a chapel of his own. The Doctor had kept up theacquaintance formed by Peregrine's accident, and had come to regardhim with much esteem, and as likely to exercise a wholesomeinfluence upon his patron. Nothing more was heard for a week, andthen came another visitor to the Doctor's door, Sir Peregrinehimself, on his way down, at considerable inconvenience, toendeavour to prevail with his brother to allow him to retain hisnephew in his suite. 

"Surely, " he said, "my brother had enough of camps in his youth tounderstand that his son will be none the worse squire for havinggone a little beyond Hampshire bogs, and learnt what the world ismade of. "

"I cannot tell, " said Dr. Woodford; "I have my fears that he thinksthe less known of the world the better. "

"That might answer with a heavy clod of a lad such as the poor youthwho is gone, and such as, for his own sake and my brother's, I trustthe younger one is, fruges consumere natus; but as for this boy, dulness and vacancy are precisely what would be the ruin of him. Let my brother keep Master Robert at home, and give him Oakwood; Iwill provide for Perry as I always promised to do. "

"If he is wise he will accept the offer, " said Dr. Woodford; "but'tis hard to be wise for others. "

"Nothing harder, sir. I would that I had gone home with Perry, butmine audience of his Majesty was fixed for the ensuing week, and mybrother's summons was peremptory. "

"I trust your honour will prevail, " said Mrs. Woodford gently. "Youhave effected a mighty change in the poor boy, and I can wellbelieve that he is as a son to you. "

"Well, madam, yes--as sons go, " said the knight in a somewhatdisappointing tone. 

She looked at him anxiously, and ventured to murmur a hope so verylike an inquiry, and so full of solicitous hope, that it actuallyunlocked the envoy's reserve, and he said, "Ah, madam, you have beenthe best mother that the poor youth has ever had! I will speakfreely to you, for should I fail in overcoming my brother'sprejudices, you will be able to do more for him than any one else, and I know you will be absolutely secret. "

Mrs. Woodford sighed, with forebodings of not long being able to aidany one in this world, but still she listened with earnest interestand sympathy. 

"Yes, madam, you implanted in him that which yet may conquer hisstrange nature. Your name is as it were a charm to conjure up hisbetter spirit. "

"Of course, " she said, "I never durst hope, that he could be tamedand under control all at once, but--" and she paused. 

"He has improved--vastly improved, " said the uncle. "Indeed, whenfirst I took him with me, while he was still weak, and moreover muchovercome by sea-sickness, while all was strange to him, and he wasrelieved by not finding himself treated as an outcast, I verilythought him meeker than other urchins, and that the outcry againsthim was unmerited. But no sooner had we got to Berlin, and while Iwas as yet too busy to provide either masters or occupations for myyoung gentleman, than he did indeed make me feel that I had chargeof a young imp, and that if I did not watch the better, it might bea case of war with his Spanish Majesty. For would you believe it, his envoy's gardens joined ours, and what must my young master do, but sit atop of our wall, making grimaces at the dons and donnas asthey paced the walks, and pelting them from time to time withwalnuts. Well, I was mindful of your counsel, and did not flog him, nor let my chaplain do so, though I know the good man's fingersitched to be at him; but I reasoned with him on the harm he wasdoing me, and would you believe it, the poor lad burst into tears, and implored me to give him something to do, to save him from hisown spirit. I set him to write out and translate a long roll ofLatin despatches sent up by that pedant Court in Hungary, and Ideclare to you I had no more trouble with him till next he was leftidle. I gave him tutors, and he studied with fervour, and madeprogress at which they were amazed. He learnt the High Dutch fasterthan any other of my people, and could soon jabber away in it withthe best of the Elector's folk, and I began to think I had a nephewwho would do me no small credit. I sent him to perfect his studiesat Leyden, but shall I confess it to you? it was to find that nomaster nor discipline could keep him out of the riotings andquarrels of the worse sort of students. Nay, I found him laid bywith a rapier thrust in the side from a duel, for no better causethan biting his thumb at a Scots law student in chapel, his apologybeing that to sit through a Dutch sermon drove him crazy. 'Tis notthat he is not trustworthy. Find employment for the restless demonthat is in him, and all is well with him; moreover, he is full ofwit and humour, and beguiles a long journey or tedious evening at aninn better than any comrade I ever knew, extracting mirth from allaround, even the very discomforts, and searching to the quick allthat is to be seen. But if left to himself, the restless demon thatpreys on him is sure to set him to something incalculable. At Turinit set him to scraping acquaintance with a Capuchin friar, a dirtyrogue whom I would have kept on the opposite side of the street. That was his graver mood; but what more must he do, but borrow orsteal, I know not how, the ghastly robes of the Confraternity ofDeath--the white garb and peaked cap with two holes for the eyes, wherewith men of all degrees disguise themselves while doing thepious work of bearing the dead to the grave. None suspected him, for the disguise is complete, and a duke may walk unknown beside awater-carrier, bearing the corpse of a cobbler. All would have beenwell, but that at the very brink of the grave the boy's fiend--'tishis own word--impelled him to break forth into his wild "Ho! ho!ho!" with an eldritch shriek, and slipping out of his cerements, dash off headlong over the wall of the cemetery. He was notfollowed. I believe the poor body belonged to a fellow whosesalvation was more than doubtful in spite of all the priests coulddo, and that the bearers really took him for the foul fiend. It wasnot till a week or two after that the ring of his voice and laughcaused him to be recognised by one of the Duke of Savoy's gentlemen, happily a prudent man, loth to cause a tumult against one of mysuite, and he told me all privately in warning. Ay, and when Ispoke to Peregrine, I found him thoroughly penitent at havinginsulted the dead; he had been unhappy ever since, and had actuallybestowed his last pocket-piece on the widow. He made handsomeapologies in good Italian, which he had picked up as fast as theGerman, to the gentleman, who promised that it should go no farther, and kept his word. It was the solemnity, Peregrine assured me, thatbrought back all the intolerableness of the preachings at home, andawoke the same demon. "

"How long ago was this, sir?"

"About eighteen months. "

"And has all been well since?"

"Fairly well. He has had fuller and more responsible work to do forme, his turn for languages making him a most valuable secretary; andin the French Court, really the most perilous of all to a youngman's virtue, he behaved himself well. It is not debauchery that hehas a taste for, but he must be doing something, and if wholesomeoccupations do not stay his appetite, he will be doing mischief. Hebrought on himself a very serious rebuke from the Prince of Orange, churlishly and roughly given, I allow, but fully merited, for makinggrimaces at his acquaintance among the young officers at a militaryinspection. Heaven help the lad if he be left with his father, whose most lively notion of innocent sport is scratching the headsof his hogs!"

Nothing could be said in answer save earnest wishes that the knightmight persuade his brother. Mrs. Woodford wished her brother-in-lawto go with him to add force to his remonstrance; but on the whole itwas thought better to leave the family to themselves, Dr. Woodfordonly writing to Major Oakshott, as well as to the youth himself. 

The result was anxiously watched for, and in another week, earlierin the day than Mrs. Woodford was able to leave her room, SirPeregrine's horses stopped at the door, and as Anne ascertained by apeep from the window, he was only accompanied by his servants. 

"Yes, " he said to the Doctor in his vexation, "one would reallythink that by force of eating Southdown mutton my poor brother hadacquired the brains of one of his own rams! I declare 'tis apiteous sight to see a man resolute on ruining his son and breakinghis own heart all for conscience sake!"

"Say you so, sir! I had hoped that the sight of what you have madeof your nephew might have had some effect. "

"All the effect it has produced is to make him more determined totake him from me. The Hampshire mind abhors foreign breeding, andthe old Cromwellian spirit thinks good manners sprung from theworld, and wit from the Evil One!"

"I can quite believe that Peregrine's courtly airs are not welcomedhere; I could see what our good neighbour, Sir Philip Archfield, thought of them; but whereas no power on earth could make the younggentleman a steady-going clownish youth after his father's heart, methought he might prefer his present polish to impishness. "

"So I told him, but I might as well have talked to the horse block. It is his duty, quotha, to breed his heir up in godly simplicity!"

"Simplicity is all very well to begin with, but once flown, itcannot be restored. "

"And that is what my brother cannot see. Well, my poor boy must beleft to his fate. There is no help for it, and all I can hope isthat you, sir, and the ladies, will stand his friend, and do whatmay lie in your power to make him patient and render his life lessintolerable. "

"Indeed, sir, we will do what we can; I wish that I could hope thatit would be of much service. "

"My brother has more respect for your advice than perhaps yousuppose; and to you, madam, the poor lad looks with earnestgratitude. Nay, even his mother reaps the benefit of the respectwith which you have inspired him. Peregrine treats her with agentleness and attention such as she never knew before from her bearcubs. Poor soul! I think she likes it, though it somewhatperplexes her, and she thinks it all French manners. There is onemore favour, your reverence, which I scarce dare lay before you. You have seen my black boy Hans?"

"He was with you at Oakwood seven years ago. "

"Even so. I bought the poor fellow when a mere child from a Dutchskipper who had used him scurvily, and he has grown up as faithfulas a very spaniel, and mightily useful too, not only as bodyservant, but he can cook as well as any French maitre d'hotel, frothchocolate, and make the best coffee I ever tasted; is as honest asthe day, and, I believe, would lay down his life for Peregrine orme. I shall be cruelly at a loss without him, but a physician I metin London tells me it would be no better than murder to take thepoor rogue to so cold a country as Muscovy. I would leave him towait on Perry, but they will not hear of it at Oakwood. My sister-in-law wellnigh had a fit every time she looked at him when I wasthere before, and I found, moreover, that even when I was at hand, the servants jeered at the poor blackamoor, gave him his mealsapart, and only the refuse of their own, so that he would fare butill if I left him to their mercy. I had thought of offering him toMr. Evelyn of Says Court, who would no doubt use him well, but itwas Peregrine who suggested that if you of your goodness wouldreceive the poor fellow, they could sometimes meet, and that wouldcheer his heart, and he really is far from a useless knave, but isworth two of any serving-men I ever saw. "

To take an additional man-servant was by no means such a greatproposal as it would be in most houses at present. Men swarmed inmuch larger proportion than maids in all families of condition, andthe Doctor was wealthy enough for one--more or less--to make littledifference, but the question was asked as to what wages Hans shouldreceive. 

The knight laughed. "Wages, poor lad, what should he do with them?He is but a slave, I tell you. Meat, clothes, and fire, that is allhe needs, and I will so deal with him that he will serve you in allfaithfulness and obedience. He can speak English enough to knowwhat you bid him do, but not enough for chatter with the servants. "

So the agreement was made, and poor Hans was to be sent down by thePortsmouth coach together with Peregrine's luggage. 

CHAPTER X: THE MENAGERIE

"The head remains unchanged within, Nor altered much the face, It still retains its native grin, And all its old grimace. 

"Men with contempt the brute surveyed, Nor would a name bestow, But women liked the motley beast, And called the thing a beau. "

The Monkies, MERRICK. 

The Woodford family did not long remain at Winchester. Annedeclared the cold to be harming her mother, and became very anxiousto bring her to the milder sea breezes of Portchester, and thoughMrs. Woodford had little expectation that any place would make muchdifference to her, she was willing to return to the quiet and reposeof her home under the castle walls beside the tranquil sea. 

Thus they travelled back, as soon as the Doctor's Residence wasended, plodding through the heavy chalk roads as well as the bighorses could drag the cumbrous coach up and down the hills, onlyhalting for much needed rest at Sir Philip Archfield's red house, round three sides of a quadrangle, the fourth with a low wall backedby a row of poplar trees, looking out on the alternate mud andsluggish waters of Fareham creek, but with a beautiful garden behindthe house. 

The welcome was hearty. Lady Archfield at once conducted Mrs. Woodford to her own bedroom, where she was to rest and be servedapart, and Anne disrobed her of her wraps, covered her upon the bed, and at her hostess's desire was explaining what refreshment wouldbest suit her, when there was a shrill voice at the door: "I wantMistress Anne! I want to show her my clothes and jewels. "

"Coming, child, she is coming when she has attended to her mother, "responded the lady. "White wine, or red, did you say, Anne, and alittle ginger?"

"Is she never coming?" was again the call; and Lady Archfieldmuttering, "Was there ever such an impatient poppet?" released Anne, who was instantly pounced upon by young Mrs. Archfield. Linking herarm into that of her visitor, and thrusting Lucy into thebackground, the little heiress proceeded to her own wainscottedbedroom, bare according to modern views, but very luxuriousaccording to those of the seventeenth century, and with the toiletteapparatus, scanty indeed, but of solid silver, and with a lavishamount of perfumery. Her 'own woman' was in waiting to display andrefold the whole wedding wardrobe, brocade, satin, taffetas, cambric, Valenciennes, and point d'Alencon. Anne had to admire eachin detail, and then to give full meed to the whole casket of jewels, numerous and dazzling as befitted a constellation of heirlooms uponone small head. They were beautiful, but it was wearisome to repeat'Vastly pretty!' 'How exquisite!' 'That becomes you very well, 'almost mechanically, when Lucy was standing about all the time, longing to exchange the girlish confidences that were burning tocome forth. 'Young Madam, ' as every one called her in those timeswhen Christian names were at a discount, seemed to be jealous ofattention to any one else, and the instant she saw the guest attemptto converse with her sister-in-law peremptorily interrupted, almostas if affronted. 

Perhaps if Anne had enjoyed freedom of speech with Lucy she wouldnot have learnt as much as did her mother, for the young are oftenmore scrupulous as to confidences than their seniors, who view themas still children, and freely discuss their affairs amongthemselves. 

So Lady Archfield poured out her troubles: how her daughter-in-lawrefused employment, and disdained instruction in needlework, housewifery, or any domestic art, how she jangled the spinnet, butwould not learn music, and was unoccupied, fretful, and exacting, aburthen to herself and every one else, and treating Lucy as theslave of her whims and humours. As to such discipline as mothers-in-law were wont to exercise upon young wives, the least restraintor contradiction provoked such a tempest of passion as to shake thetiny, delicate frame to a degree that alarmed the good old matronfor the consequences. Her health was a continual difficulty, forher constitution was very frail, every imprudence cost hersuffering, and yet any check to her impulses as to food, exertion, or encountering weather was met by a spoilt child's resentment. Moreover, her young husband, and even his father, always thought theladies were hard upon her, and would not have her vexed; and astheir presence always brightened and restrained her, they neverunderstood the full amount of her petulance and waywardness, andwhen they found her out of spirits, or out of temper, they chargedall on her ailments or on want of consideration from her mother andsister-in-law. 

Poor Lady Archfield, it was trying for her that her husband shouldbe nearly as blind as his son. The young husband was wonderfullytender, indulgent, and patient with the little creature, but itwould not be easy to say whether the affection were not a good deallike that for his dog or his horse, as something absolutely his own, with which no one else had a right to interfere. It was a relief tothe family that she always wanted to be out of doors with himwhenever the weather permitted, nay, often when it was far fromsuitable to so fragile a being; but if she came home aching andcrying ever so much with chill or fatigue, even if she had to keepher bed afterwards, she was equally determined to rush out as soonas she was up again, and as angry as ever at remonstrance. 

Charles was gone to try a horse; and as the remains of the effectsof her last imprudence had prevented her accompanying him, thearrival of the guests had been a welcome diversion to the monotonyof the morning. 

He was, however, at home again by the time the dinner-bell summonedthe younger ladies from the inspection of the trinkets and thegentlemen from the live stock, all to sit round the heavy oakentable draped with the whitest of napery, spun by Lady Archfield inher maiden days, and loaded with substantial joints, succeeded bydelicacies manufactured by herself and Lucy. 

As to the horse, Charles was fairly satisfied, but 'that fellow, young Oakshott, had been after him, and had the refusal. '

"Don't you be outbid, Mr. Archfield, " exclaimed the wife. "What isthe matter of a few guineas to us?"

"Little fear, " replied Charles. "The old Major is scarcely like topay down twenty gold caroluses, but if he should, the bay is his. "

"Oh, but why not offer thirty?" she cried. 

Charles laughed. "That would be a scurvy trick, sweetheart, and ifPeregrine be a crooked stick, we need not be crooked too. "

"I was about to ask, " said the Doctor, "whether you had heard aughtof that same young gentleman. "

"I have seen him where I never desire to see him again, " said SirPhilip, "riding as though he would be the death of the poor hounds. "

"Nick Huntsman swears that he bewitches them, " said Charles, "forthey always lose the scent when he is in the field, but I believe'tis the wry looks of him that throw them all out. "

"And I say, " cried the inconsistent bride, "that 'tis all jealousythat puts the gentlemen beside themselves, because none of them candance, nor make a bow, nor hand a cup of chocolate, nor open a gateon horseback like him. "

"What does a man on horseback want with opening gates?" exclaimedCharles. 

"That's your manners, sir, " said young Madam with a laugh. "What'sthe poor lady to do while her cavalier flies over and leaves her inthe lurch?"

Her husband did not like the general laugh, and muttered, "You knowwhat I mean well enough. "

"Yes, so do I! To fumble at the fastening till your poor beast canbear it no longer and swerves aside, and I sit waiting a good halfhour before you bring down your pride enough to alight and open it. "

"All because you _would_ send Will home for your mask. "

"You would like to have had my poor little face one blister with theglare of sun and sea. "

"Blisters don't come at this time of the year. "

"No, nor to those who have no complexion to lose, " she cried, with atriumphant look at the two maidens, who certainly had not the liliesnor the roses that she believed herself to have, though, in truth, her imprudences had left her paler and less pretty than atWinchester. 

If this were the style of the matrimonial conversations, Anne againgrieved for her old playfellow, and she perceived that Lucy lookeduncomfortable; but there was no getting a moment's privateconversation with her before the coach was brought round again forthe completion of the journey. All that neighbourhood had a verybad reputation as the haunt of lawless characters, prone toviolence; and though among mere smugglers there was little danger ofan attack on persons well known like the Woodford family, they wereoften joined by far more desperate men from the seaport, so that itwas never desirable to be out of doors after dark. 

The journey proved to have been too much for Mrs. Woodford'sstrength, and for some days she was so ill that Anne never left thehouse; but she rallied again, and on coming downstairs became veryanxious that her daughter should not be more confined by attendancethan was wholesome, and insisted on every opportunity of change oramusement being taken. 

One day as Anne was in the garden she was surprised by Peregrinedashing up on horseback. 

"You would not take the Queen's rosary before, " he said. "You mustnow, to save it. My father has smelt it out. He says it isteraphim! Micah--Rachel, what not, are quoted against it. He wouldhave smashed it into fragments, but that Martha Browning said itwould be a pretty bracelet. I'd sooner see it smashed than on herred fist. To think of her giving in to such vanities! But he saidshe might have it, only to be new strung. When he was gone shesaid, 'I don't really want the thing, but it was hard you shouldlose the Queen's keepsake. Can you bestow it safely?' I said Icould, and brought it hither. Keep it, Anne, I pray. "

Anne hesitated, and referred it to her mother upstairs. 

"Tell him, " she said, "that we will keep it in trust for him as aroyal gift. "

Peregrine was disappointed, but had to be content. 

A Dutch vessel from the East Indies had brought home sundry strangeanimals, which were exhibited at the Jolly Mariner at Portsmouth, and thus announced on a bill printed on execrable paper, brought outto Portchester by some of the market people:--

"An Ellefante twice the Bignesse of an Ocks, the Trunke or Probosceswhereof can pick up a Needle or roote up an Ellum Tree. Also theRoyale Tyger, the same as has slaine and devoured seven yonge Gentoobabes, three men, and two women at the township at Chuttergong, nieto Bombay, in the Eastern Indies. Also the sacred Ape, worshippedby the heathen of the Indies, the Dancing Serpent which wearethSpectacles, and whose Bite is instantly mortal, with other rareFish, Fowle, Idols and the like. All to be seene at the Charge ofone Groat per head. "

Mrs. Woodford declared herself to be extremely desirous that herdaughter should see and bring home an account of all these marvels, and though Anne had no great inclination to face the tiger with theformidable appetite, she could not refuse to accompany her uncle. 

The Jolly Mariner stood in one of the foulest and narrowest of thestreets of the unsavoury seaport, and Dr. Woodford sighed, andfumed, and wished for a good pipe of tobacco more than once as hehesitated to try to force a way for his niece through the thronground the entrance to the stable-yard of the Jolly Mariner, apparently too rough to pay respect to gown and cassock. Anne clungto his arm, ready to give up the struggle, but a voice said, "Allowme, sir. Mistress Anne, deign to take my arm. "

It was Peregrine Oakshott with his brother Robert, and she couldhardly tell how in a few seconds she had been squeezed through thecrowd, and stood in the inn-yard, in a comparatively free space, fora groat was a prohibitory charge to the vulgar. 

"Peregrine! Master Oakshott!" They heard an exclamation ofpleasure, at which Peregrine shrugged his shoulders and lookedexpressively at Anne, before turning to receive the salutations ofan elderly gentleman and a tall young woman, very plainly buthandsomely clad in mourning deeper than his own. She was of a tall, gaunt, angular figure, and a face that never could have beenhandsome, and now bore evident traces of smallpox in redness andpits. 

Dr. Woodford knew the guardian Mr. Browning, and his ward MistressMartha and Mistress Anne Jacobina were presented to one another. The former gave a good-humoured smile, as if perfectly unconsciousof her own want of beauty, and declared she had hoped to meet allthe rest here, especially Mistress Anne Woodford, of whom she hadheard so much. There was just a little patronage about the tonewhich repelled the proud spirit that was in Anne, and in spite ofthe ordinary dread and repulsion she felt for Peregrine, she wasnaughty enough to have the feeling of a successful beauty whenPeregrine most manifestly turned away from the heiress in her silkand velvet to do the honours of the exhibition to the parson'sniece. 

The elephant was fastened by the leg to a post, which perhaps hecould have pulled up, had he thought it worth his while, but he waswell contented to wave his trunk about and extend its clever fingerto receive contributions of cakes and apples, and he was too wellamused to resort to any strong measures. The tiger, to Anne'srelief, proved to be only a stuffed specimen. Peregrine, who hadseen a good many foreign animals in Holland, where the Dutchcaptains were in the habit of bringing curiosities home for thedelectation of their families in their Lusthausen, was a veryamusing companion, having much to tell about bird and beast, whileRobert stood staring with open mouth. The long-legged secretary andthe beautiful doves were, however, only stuffed, but Anne was muchentertained at second hand with the relation of the numerousobjects, which on the word of a Leyden merchant had been known todisappear in the former bird's capacious crop, and with stories ofthe graceful dancing of the cobra, though she was not sorry that thepresent specimen was only visible in a bottle of arrack, where hisspectacled hood was scarcely apparent. Presently a well knownshrill young voice was heard. "Yes, yes, I know I shall swoon atthat terrible tiger! Oh, don't! I can't come any farther. "

"Why, you would come, madam, " said Charles. 

"Yes, yes! but--oh, there's a two-tailed monster! I know it is thetiger! It is moving! I shall die if you take me any farther. "

"Plague upon your folly, madam! It is only the elephant, " said agruffer, rude voice. 

"Oh, it is dreadful! 'Tis like a mountain! I can't! Oh no, Ican't!"

"Come, madam, you have brought us thus far, you must come on, andnot make fools of us all, " said Charles's voice. "There's nothingto hurt you. "

Anne, understanding the distress and perplexity, here turned back tothe passage into the court, and began persuasively to explain tolittle Mrs. Archfield that the tiger was dead, and only a skin, andthat the elephant was the mildest of beasts, till she coaxed forwardthat small personage, who had of course never really intended toturn back, supported and guarded as she was by her husband, andlikewise by a tall, glittering figure in big boots and a handsomescarlet uniform and white feather who claimed her attention as hestrode into the court. "Ha! Mistress Anne and the Doctor on mylife. What, don't you know me?"

"Master Sedley Archfield!" said the Doctor; "welcome home, sir!'Tis a meeting of old acquaintance. You and this gentleman are bothso much altered that it is no wonder if you do not recognise oneanother at once. "

"No fear of Mr. Perry Oakshott not being recognised, " said SedleyArchfield, holding out his hand, but with a certain sneer in hisrough voice that brought Peregrine's eyebrows together. "Kenspeckleenough, as the fools of Whigs say in Scotland. "

"Are you long from Scotland, sir?" asked Dr. Woodford, by way ofpreventing personalities. 

"Oh ay, sir; these six months and more. There's not much more sportto be had since the fools of Cameronians have been pretty well gotunder, and 'tis no loss to be at Hounslow. "

"And oh, what a fright!" exclaimed Mrs. Archfield, catching sight ofthe heiress. "Keep her away! She makes me ill. "

They were glad to divert her attention to feeding the elephant, andshe was coquetting a little about making up her mind to approacheven the defunct tiger, while she insisted on having the number ofhis victims counted over to her. Anne asked for Lucy, to whom shewanted to show the pigeons, but was answered that, "my lady wantedLucy at home over some matter of jellies and blancmanges. "

Charles shrugged his shoulders a little and Sedley grumbled to Anne. "The little vixen sets her heart on cates that she won't lay afinger to make, and poor Lucy is like to be no better than a cook-maid, while they won't cross her, for fear of her tantrums. "

At that instant piercing screams, shriek upon shriek, rang throughthe court, and turning hastily round, Anne beheld a little monkeyperched on Mrs. Archfield's head, having apparently leapt thitherfrom the pole to which it was chained. 

The keeper was not in sight, being in fact employed over a sale ofsome commodities within. There was a general springing to therescue. Charles tried to take the creature off, Sedley tugged atthe chain fastened to a belt round its body, but the monkey heldtight by the curls on the lady's forehead with its hands, andcrossed its legs round her neck, clasping the hands so that theeffect of the attempts of her husband and his cousin was only tothrottle her, so that she could no longer scream and was almost in afit, when on Peregrine holding out a nut and speaking coaxingly inDutch, the monkey unloosed its hold, and with another bound was onhis arm. He stood caressing and feeding it, talking to it in thesame tongue, while it made little squeaks and chatterings, evidentlydelighted, though its mournful old man's visage still had the samepiteous expression. There was something most grotesque and almostweird in the sight of Peregrine's queer figure toying with its oddhands which seemed to be in black gloves, and the strange languagehe talked to it added to the uncanny effect. Even the Doctor feltit as he stood watching, and would have muttered 'Birds of afeather, ' but that the words were spoken more gruffly and plainly bySedley Archfield, who said something about the Devil and his dam, which the good Doctor did not choose to hear, and only said toPeregrine, "You know how to deal with the jackanapes. "

"I have seen some at Leyden, sir. This is a pretty little beast. "

Pretty! There was a recoil in horror, for the creature looked tothe crowd demoniacal. Something the same was the sensation ofCharles, who, assisted by Anne and Martha, had been rather carryingthan leading his wife into the inn parlour, where she immediatelyhad a fit of hysterics--vapours, as they called it--bringing all thewomen of the inn about her, while Martha and Anne soothed her asbest they could, and he was reduced to helplessly leaning out at thebay window. 

When the sobs and cries subsided, under cold water and essenceswithout and strong waters within, and the little lady in Martha'sstrong arms, between the matronly coaxing of the fat hostess and thekind soothings of the two young ladies, had been restored tosomething of equanimity, Mistress Martha laid her down and said withthe utmost good humour and placidity to the young husband, "Now I'llgo, sir. She is better now, but the sight of my face might set heroff again. "

"Oh, do not say so, madam. We are infinitely obliged. Let herthank you. "

But Martha shook her hand and laughed, turning to leave the room, sothat he was fain to give her his arm and escort her back to herguardian. 

Then ensued a scream. "Where's he going? Mr. Archfield, don'tleave me. "

"He is only taking Mistress Browning back to her guardian, " saidAnne. 

"Eh? oh, how can he? A hideous fright!" she cried. 

To say the truth, she was rather pleased to have had such a dreadfuladventure, and to have made such a commotion, though she protestedthat she must go home directly, and could never bear the sight ofthose dreadful monsters again, or she should die on the spot. 

"But, " said she, when the coach was at the door, and Anne hadrestored her dress to its dainty gaiety, "I must thank MasterPeregrine for taking off that horrible jackanapes. "

"Small thanks to him, " said Charles crossly. "I wager it was allhis doing out of mere spite. "

"He is too good a beau ever to spite _me_, " said Mrs. Alice, herhead a little on one side. 

"Then to show off what he could do with the beast--Satan's imp, likehimself. "

"No, no, Mr. Archfield, " pleaded Anne, "that was impossible; I sawhim myself. He was with that sailor-looking man measuring theheight of the secretary bird. "

"I believe you are always looking after him, " grumbled Charles. "Ican't guess what all the women see in him to be always gazing afterhim. "

"Because he is so charmingly ugly, " laughed the young wife, trippingout in utter forgetfulness that she was to die if she went near thebeasts again. She met Peregrine half way across the yard withoutstretched hands, exclaiming--

"O Mr. Oakshott! it was so good in you to take away that nastybeast. "

"I am glad, madam, to have been of use, " said Peregrine, bowing andsmiling, a smile that might explain something of his fascination. "The poor brute was only drawn, as all of our kind are. He wantedto see so sweet a lady nearer. He is quite harmless. Will youstroke him? See, there he sits, gazing after you. Will you givehim a cake and make friends?"

"No, no, madam, it cannot be; it is too much, " grumbled Charles; andthough Alice had backed at first, perhaps for the pleasure ofteasing him, or for that of being the centre of observation, actually, with all manner of pretty airs and graces, she let herselfbe led forward, lay a timid hand on the monkey's head, and put acake in its black fingers, while all the time Peregrine held it fastand talked Dutch to it; and Charles Archfield hardly contained hisrage, though Anne endeavoured to argue the impossibility ofPeregrine's having incited the attack; and Sedley blustered thatthey ought to interfere and make the fellow know the reason why. However, Charles had sense enough to know that though he mightexhale his vexation in grumbling, he had no valid cause forquarrelling with young Oakshott, so he contented himself with blacklooks and grudging thanks, as he was obliged to let Peregrine handhis wife into her carriage amid her nods and becks and wreathedsmiles. 

They would have taken Dr. Woodford and his niece home in the coach, but Anne had an errand in the town, and preferred to return by boat. She wanted some oranges and Turkey figs to allay her mother'sconstant thirst, and Peregrine begged permission to accompany them, saying that he knew where to find the best and cheapest. Accordingly he took them to a tiny cellar, in an alley by the boatcamber, where the Portugal oranges certainly looked riper and werecheaper than any that Anne had found before; but there seemed to bean odd sort of understanding between Peregrine and the withered oldweather-beaten sailor who sold them, such as rather puzzled theDoctor. 

"I hope these are not contraband, " he said to Peregrine, when theoranges had been packed in the basket of the servant who followedthem. 

Peregrine shrugged his shoulders. 

"Living is hard, sir. Ask no questions. "

The Doctor looked tempted to turn back with the fruit, but suchdoubts were viewed as ultra scruples, and would hardly have beenentertained even by a magistrate such as Sir Philip Archfield. 

It was not a time for questions, and Peregrine remained with themtill they embarked at the point, asking to be commended to Mrs. Woodford, and hoping soon to come and see both her and poor Hans, heleft them. 

CHAPTER XI: PROPOSALS

"Hear me, ye venerable core, As counsel for poor mortals, That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door For glaikit Folly's portals;I for their thoughtless, careless sakes Would here propose defences, Their doucie tricks, their black mistakes, Their failings and mischances. "

BURNS. 

For seven years Anne Woodford had kept Lucy Archfield's birthdaywith her, and there was no refusing now, though there was more andmore unwillingness to leave Mrs. Woodford, whose declining statebecame so increasingly apparent that even the loving daughter couldno longer be blind to it. 

The coach was sent over to fetch Mistress Anne to Fareham, and theinvalid was left, comfortably installed in her easy-chair by theparlour fire, with a little table by her side, holding a hand-bell, a divided orange, a glass of toast and water, and the Bible andPrayer-book, wherein lay her chief studies, together with a littleneedlework, which still amused her feeble hands. The Doctor, divided between his parish, his study, and his garden, had promisedto look in from time to time. 

Presently, however, the door was gently tapped, and on her call"Come in, " Hans, all one grin, admitted Peregrine Oakshott, bowinglow in his foreign, courteous manner, and entreating her to excusehis intrusion, "For truly, madam, in your goodness is my only hope. "

Then he knelt on one knee and kissed the hand she held out to him, while desiring him to speak freely to her. 

"Nay, madam, I fear I shall startle you, when I lay before you theonly chance that can aid me to overcome the demon that is in me. "

"My poor--"

"Call me your boy, as when I was here seven years ago. Let me sitat your feet as then and listen to me. "

"Indeed I will, my dear boy, " and she laid her hand on his darkhead. "Tell me all that is in your heart. "

"Ah, dear lady, that is not soon done! You and Mistress Anne, asyou well know, first awoke me from my firm belief that I was noneother than an elf, and yet there have since been times when I havedoubted whether it were not indeed the truth. "

"Nay, Peregrine, at years of discretion you should have outgrown oldwives' tales. "

"Better be an elf at once--a soulless creature of the elements--thanthe sport of an evil spirit doomed to perdition, " he bitterlyexclaimed. 

"Hush, hush! You know not what you are saying!"

"I know it too well, madam! There are times when I long and wishafter goodness--nay, when Heaven seems open to me--and I resolve andstrive after a perfect life; but again comes the wild, passionatedragging, as it were, into all that at other moments I most loatheand abhor, and I become no more my own master. Ah!"

There was misery in his voice, and he clutched the long hair on eachside of his face with his hands. 

"St. Paul felt the same, " said Mrs. Woodford gently. 

"'Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?' Ay, ay! howmany times have I not groaned that forth! And so, if that Father atTurin were right, I am but as Paul was when he was Saul. Madam, isit not possible that I was never truly baptized?" he cried eagerly. 

"Impossible, Peregrine. Was not Mr. Horncastle chaplain when youwere born? Yes; and I have heard my brother say that both he andyour father held the same views as the Church upon baptism. "

"So I thought; but Father Geronimo says that at the best it was butheretical baptism, and belike hastily and ineffectually performed. "

"Put that aside, Peregrine. It is only a temptation andallurement. "

"It is an allurement you know not how strong, " said the poor youth. "Could I only bring myself to believe all that Father Geronimo does, and fall down before his Madonnas and saints, then could I hope fora new nature, and scourge away the old"--he set his teeth as hespoke--"till naught remains of the elf or demon, be it what itwill. "

"Ah, Peregrine, scourging will not do it, but grace will, and thatgrace is indeed yours, as is proved by these higher aspirations. "

"I tell you, madam, that if I live on as I am doing now, grace willbe utterly stifled, if it ever abode in me at all. Every hour thatI live, pent in by intolerable forms and immeasurable dulness, themaddening temper gains on me! Nay, I have had to rush out at nightand swear a dozen round oaths before I could compose myself to sitdown to the endless supper. Ah, I shock you, madam! but that's notthe worst I am driven to do. "

"Nor the way to bring the better spirit, my poor youth. Oh, thatyou would pray instead of swearing!"

"I cannot pray at Oakwood. My father and Mr. Horncastle drive awayall the prayers that ever were in me, and I mean nothing, eventhough I keep my word to you. "

"I am glad you do that. While I know you are doing so, I shallstill believe the better angel will triumph. "

"How can aught triumph but hatred and disgust where I am pinneddown? Listen, madam, and hear if good spirits have any chance. Webreak our fast, ere the sun is up, on chunks of yesterday's half-dressed beef and mutton. If I am seen seeking for a morsel not halfraw, I am rated for dainty French tastes; and the same with the soursmallest of beer. I know now what always made me ill-tempered as achild, and I avoid it, but at the expense of sneers on my Frenchbreeding, even though my drink be fair water; for wine, look you, isa sinful expense, save for after dinner, and frothed chocolate for aman is an invention of Satan. The meal is sauced either with blameof me, messages from the farm-folk, or Bob's exploits in the chase. Then my father goes his rounds on the farm, and would fain have mewith him to stand knee-deep in mire watching the plough, or feelingeach greasy and odorous old sheep in turn to see if it be ready forthe knife, or gloating over the bullocks or swine, or exchangingauguries with Thomas Vokes on this or that crop. Faugh! And I amtold I shall never be good for a country gentleman if I contemn suchmatters! I say I have no mind to be a country gentleman, whereby Iam told of Esau till I am sick of his very name. "

"But surely you have not always to follow on this round?"

"Oh no! I may go out birding with Bob, who is about as lively as anold jackass, or meet the country boobies for a hunt, and be pointedat as the Frenchman, and left to ride alone; or there's mine ownchamber, when the maids do not see fit to turn me out with theirpails and besoms, as they do at least twice a week--I sit there inmy cloak and furs (by the way, I am chidden for an effeminate fop ifever I am seen in them). I would give myself to books, as my unclecounselled, but what think you? By ill hap Bob, coming in to asksome question, found me studying the Divina Commedia of DanteAlighieri, and hit upon one of the engravings representing thetorments of purgatory. What must he do but report it, andimmediately a hue and cry arises that I am being corrupted withPopish books. In vain do I tell them that their admirable JohnMilton, the only poet save Sternhold and Hopkins that my fatherdeems not absolute pagan, knew, loved, and borrowed from Dante. Allmy books are turned over as ruthlessly as ever Don Quixote's by thecurate and the barber, and whatever Mr. Horncastle's eruditioncannot vouch for is summarily handed over to the kitchen wench tolight the fires. The best of it is that they have left me myclassics, as though old Terence and Lucan were lesser heathens thanthe great Florentine. However, I have bribed the young maid, andrescued my Dante and Boiardo with small damage, but I dare not readthem save with door locked. "

Mrs. Woodford could scarcely shake her head at the disobedience, andshe asked if there were really no other varieties. 

"Such as fencing with that lubber Robert, and trying to bend hisstiff limbs to the noble art of l'escrime. But that is after dinnerwork. There is the mountain of half-raw flesh to be consumed first, and then my father, with Mr. Horncastle and Bob discuss on what theycall the news--happy if a poor rogue has been caught by TomConstable stealing faggots. 'Tis argument for a week--almost equalto the price of a fat mutton at Portsmouth. My father and theminister nod in due time over their ale-cup, and Bob and I go ourways till dark, or till the house bell rings for prayers andexposition. Well, dear good lady, I will not grieve you by tellingyou how often they make me wish to be again the imp devoid of everyshred of self-respect, and too much inured to flogging to heed whatmy antics might bring on me. "

"I am glad you have that shred of self respect; I hope indeed it issome higher respect. "

"Well, I can never believe that Heaven meant to be served by mortaldullness. Seven years have only made old Horncastle blow his hornto the same note, only more drearily. "

"I can see indeed that it is a great trial to one used to the lifeof foreign Courts and to interest in great affairs like you, my poorPeregrine; but what can I say but to entreat you to be patient, tryto find interest, and endeavour to win your father's confidence sothat he may accord you more liberty? Did I not hear that yourattention made your mother's life happier?"

Peregrine laughed. "My mother! She has never seen aught butboorishness all her life, and any departure therefrom seems to herunnatural. I believe she is as much afraid of my courtesy as evershe was of my mischief, and that in her secret heart she stillbelieves me a changeling. No, Madam Woodford, there is but one wayto save me from the frenzy that comes over me. "

"Your father has already been entreated to let you join your uncle. "

"I know it--I know it; but if it were impossible before, thatdiscovery of Dante has made it impossibilissimo, as the Italianwould say, to deal with him now. There is a better way. Give methe good angel who has always counteracted the evil one. Give meMistress Anne!"

"Anne, my Anne!" exclaimed Mrs. Woodford in dismay. "O Peregrine, it cannot be!"

"I knew that would be your first word, " said Peregrine, "but verily, madam, I would not ask it but that I know that I should be anotherman with her by my side, and that she would have nothing to fearfrom the evil that dies at her approach. "

"Ah, Peregrine! you think so now; but no man can be sure of himselfwith any mere human care. Besides, my child is not of degree tomatch with you. Your father would justly be angered if we tookadvantage of your attachment to us to encourage you in aninclination he could never approve. "

"I tell you, madam--yes, I must tell you all--my madness and my ruinwill be completed if I am left to my father's will. I know what ishanging over me. He is only waiting till I am of age--at Midsummer, and the year of mourning is over for poor Oliver--I am sure no onemourns for him more heartily than I--to bind me to Martha Browning. If she would only bring the plague, or something worse thansmallpox, to put an end to it at once!"

"But that would make any such scheme all the more impossible. "

"Listen, madam; do but hear me. Even as children the very sight ofMartha Browning's solemn face"--Peregrine drew his countenance downinto a portentous length--"her horror at the slightest word orsport, her stiff broomstick carriage, all impelled me to the mostimpish tricks. And now--letting alone that pock-marks have seamedher grim face till she is as ugly as Alecto--she is a Precisian ofthe Precisians. I declare our household is in her eyes sinfullyfree! If she can hammer out a text of Scripture, and write her namein characters as big and gawky as herself, 'tis as far as hereducation has carried her, save in pickling, preserving, stitchery, and clear starching, the only arts not sinful in her eyes. If I amto have a broomstick, I had rather ride off on one at once to theWitches' Sabbath on the Wartburg than be tied to one for life. "

"I should think she would scarce accept you. "

"There's no such hope. She has been bred up to regard one of us asher lot, and she would accept me without a murmur if I wereBeelzebub himself, horns and tail and all! Why, she ogles me withher gooseberry eyes already, and treats me as a chattel of her own. "

"Hush, hush, Peregrine! I cannot have you talk thus. If yourfather had such designs, it would be unworthy of us to favour you incrossing them. "

"Nay, madam, he hath never expressed them as yet. Only my motherand brother both refer to his purpose, and if I could show myselfcontracted to a young lady of good birth and education, he cannotgainsay; it might yet save me from what I will not and cannotendure. Not that such is by any means my chief and only motive. Ihave loved Mistress Anne with all my heart ever since she shone uponme like a being from a better world when I lay sick here. She hasthe same power of hushing the wild goblin within me as you have, madam. I am another man with her, as I am with you. It is my onlyhope! Give me that hope, and I shall be able to endure patiently. --Ah! what have I done? Have I said too much?"

He had talked longer and more eagerly than would have been good forthe invalid even if the topic had been less agitating, and theemotion caused by this unexpected complication, consternation at thedifficulties she foresaw, and the present difficulty of framing areply, were altogether too much for Mrs. Woodford. She turneddeadly white, and gasped for breath, so that Peregrine, in terror, dashed off in search of the maids, exclaiming that their mistresswas in a swoon. 

The Doctor came out of his study much distressed, and in Anne'sabsence the household was almost helpless in giving the succours inwhich she had always been the foremost. Peregrine lingered about inremorse and despair, offering to fetch her or to go for the doctor, and finally took the latter course, thereto impelled by the angrywords of the old cook, an enemy of his in former days. 

"No better? no, sir, nor 'tis not your fault if ever she be. You'vebeen and frought her nigh to death with your terrifying ways. "

Peregrine was Hampshire man enough to know that to terrify onlymeant to tease, but he was in no mood to justify himself to oldPatience, so he galloped off to Portsmouth, and only returned withthe doctor to hear that Madam Woodford was in bed, and her daughterwith her. She was somewhat better, but still very ill, and it wasplain that this was no moment for pressing his suit even had it notbeen time for him to return home. Going to fetch the doctor mightbe accepted as a valid reason for missing the evening exhortationand prayer, but there were mistrustful looks that galled him. 

Anne's return was more beneficial to Mrs. Woodford than the doctor'svisit, and the girl was still too ignorant of all that her mother'sattacks of spasms and subsequent weakness implied to be as muchalarmed as to depress her hopes. Yet Mrs. Woodford, lying awake inthe night, detected that her daughter was restless and unhappy, andasked what ailed her, and how the visit had gone off. 

"You do not wish me to speak of such things, madam, " was the answer. 

"Tell me all that is in your heart, my child. "

It all came out with the vehemence of a reserved nature when theflood is loosed. 'Young Madam' had been more than usually peevishand exacting, jealous perhaps at Lucy's being the heroine of theday, and fretful over a cold which confined her to the house, howshe worried and harassed all around her with her whims, megrims andcomplaints could only too well be imagined, and how the entirepleasure of the day was destroyed. Lucy was never allowed aminute's conversation with her friend without being interrupted by awhine and complaints of unkindness and neglect. 

Lady Archfield's ill-usage, as the young wife was pleased to callevery kind of restriction, was the favourite theme next to thedaughter-in law's own finery, her ailments, and her notions of thetreatment befitting her. 

And young Mr. Archfield himself, while handing his old friend out tothe carriage that had fetched her, could not help confiding to herthat he was nearly beside himself. His mother meant to be kind, butexpected too much from one so brought up, and his wife--what couldbe done for her? She made herself miserable here, and every oneelse likewise. Yet even if his father would consent, she wasutterly unfit to be mistress of a house of her own; and poor Charlescould only utter imprecations on the guardians who could have had noidea how a young woman ought to be brought up. It was worse than anill-trained hound. "

Mrs. Woodford heard what she extracted from her daughter with griefand alarm, and not only for her friends. 

"Indeed, my dear child, " she said, "you must prevent suchconfidences. They are very dangerous things respecting marriedpeople. "

"It was all in a few moments, mamma, and I could not stop him. Heis so unhappy;" and Anne's voice revealed tears. 

"The more reason why you should avoid hearing what he will soon bevery sorry you have heard. Were he not a mere lad himself, it wouldbe as inexcusable as it is imprudent thus to speak of the troublesand annoyances that often beset the first year of wedded life. I amsorry for the poor youth, who means no harm nor disloyalty, and isonly treating you as his old companion and playmate; but he has noright thus to talk of his wife, above all to a young maiden tooinexperienced to counsel him, and if he should attempt to do soagain, promise me, my daughter, that you will silence him--if by noother means, by telling him so. "

"I promise!" said Anne, choking back her tears and lifting her head. "I am sure I never want to go to Fareham again while that LieutenantSedley Archfield is there. If those be army manners, they are whatI cannot endure. He is altogether mean and hateful, above all whenhe scoffs at Master Oakshott. "

"I am afraid a great many do so, child, and that he often gives someoccasion, " put in Mrs. Woodford, a little uneasy that this should bethe offence. 

"He is better than Sedley Archfield, be he what he will, madam, "said the girl. "He never pays those compliments, those insolentdisgusting compliments, such as he--that Sedley, I mean--when hefound me alone in the hall, and I had to keep him at bay from tryingto kiss me, only Mr. Archfield--Charley--came down the stairs beforehe was aware, and called out, 'I will thank you to behave yourselfto a lady in my father's house. ' And then he, Sedley, sneered 'TheParson's niece!' with such a laugh, mother, I shall never get it outof my ears. As if I were not as well born as he!"

"That is not quite the way to take it, my child. I had rather youstood on your maidenly dignity and discretion than on your birth. Itrust he will soon be away. "

"I fear he will not, mamma, for I heard say the troop are comingdown to be under the Duke of Berwick at Portsmouth. "

"Then, dear daughter, it is the less mishap that you should be thusclosely confined by loving attendance on me. Now, goodnight. Compose yourself to sleep, and think no more of these troubles. "

Nevertheless mother and daughter lay long awake, side by side, thatnight; the daughter in all the flutter of nerves induced by offendedyet flattered feeling--hating the compliment, yet feeling that itwas a compliment to the features that she was beginning to value. She was substantially a good, well-principled maiden, modest anddiscreet, with much dignified reserve, yet it was impossible thatshe should not have seen heads turned to look at her in Portsmouth, and know that she was admired above her contemporaries, so that evenif it brought her inconvenience it was agreeable. Besides, herheart was beating with pity for the Archfields. The elder onesmight have only themselves to blame, but it was very hard for poorCharles to have been blindly coupled to a being who did not know howto value him, still harder that there should be blame for aconfidence where neither meant any harm--blame that made her blushon her pillow with indignant shame. 

Perhaps Mrs. Woodford divined these thoughts, for she too meditateddeeply on the perils of her fair young daughter, and in the morningcould not leave her room. In the course of the day she heard thatMaster Peregrine Oakshott had been to inquire for her, and was notsurprised when her brother-in-law sought an interview with her. Thegulf between the hierarchy and squirearchy was sufficient for amarriage to be thought a mesalliance, and it was with a smile at thefolly as well as with a certain displeased pity that Dr. Woodfordmentioned the proposal so vehemently pressed upon him by PeregrineOakshott for his niece's hand. 

"Poor boy!" said Mrs. Woodford, "it is a great misfortune. Youforbade him of course to speak of such a thing. "

"I told him that I could not imagine how he could think us capableof entertaining any such proposal without his father's consent. Heseems to have hoped that to pledge himself to us might extortsanction from his father, not seeing that it would be a highlyimproper measure, and would only incense the Major. "

"All the more that the Major wishes to pass on Mistress MarthaBrowning to him, poor fellow. "

"He did not tell me so. "

Mrs. Woodford related what he had said to her, and the Doctor couldnot but observe: "The poor Major! his whole treatment of thatunfortunate youth is as if he were resolved to drive him todistraction. But even if the Major were ever so willing, I doubtwhether Master Peregrine be the husband you would choose for ourlittle maid. "

"Assuredly not, poor fellow! though if she loved him as he lovesher--which happily she does not--I should scarce dare to stand inthe way, lest she should be the appointed instrument for his good. "

"He assured me that he had never directly addressed her. "

"No, and I trust he never will. Not that she is ever like to lovehim, although she does not shrink from him quite as much as othersdo. Yet there is a strain of ambition in my child's nature thatmight make her seek the elevation. But, my good brother, for thisand other reasons we must find another home for my poor child when Iam gone. Nay, brother, do not look at me thus; you know as well asI do that I can scarcely look to see the spring come in, and I wouldfain take this opportunity of speaking to you concerning my deardaughter. No one can be a kinder father to her than you, and Iwould most gladly leave her to cheer and tend you, but as thingsstand around us she can scarce remain here without a mother'swatchfulness. She is guarded now by her strict attendance on myinfirmity, but when I am gone how will it be?"

"She is as good and discreet a maiden as parent could wish. "

"Good and discreet as far as her knowledge and experience go, butthat is not enough. On the one hand, there is a certain wild temperabout that young Master Oakshott such as makes me never know what hemight attempt if, as he says, his father should drive him todesperation, and this is a lonely place, with the sea close athand. "

"Lady Archfield would gladly take charge of her. "

Mrs. Woodford here related what Anne had said of Sedley's insolence, but this the Doctor thought little of, not quite believing in theregiment coming into the neighbourhood, and Mrs. Woodford mostunwillingly was forced to mention her further unwillingness that herdaughter should be made a party to the troubles caused by the sillyyoung wife of her old playfellow. 

"What more?" said the Doctor, holding up his hands. "I neverthought a discreet young maid could be such a care, but I supposethat is the price we pay for her good looks. Three of them, eh?What is it that you propose?"

"I should like to place her in the household of some godly andkindly lady, who would watch over her and probably provide for hermarriage. That, as you know, was my own course, and I was veryhappy in Lady Sandwich's family, till I made the acquaintance ofyour dear and honoured brother, and my greater happiness began. Thefirst day that I am able I will write to some of my earlier friends, such as Mrs. Evelyn and Mrs. Pepys, and again there is MistressEleanor Wall, who, I hear, is married to Sir Theophilus Oglethorpe, and who might accept my daughter for my sake. She is a warm, loving, open-hearted creature of Irish blood, and would certainly bekind to her. "

There was no indignity in such a plan. Most ladies of rank orquality entertained one or more young women of the clerical orprofessional classes as companions, governesses, or ladies' maids, as the case might be. They were not classed with the servants, buthad their share of the society and amusements of the house, and afair chance of marriage in their own degree, though the comfort oftheir situation varied a good deal according to the amiability oftheir mistress, from that of a confidential friend to a white slaveand souffre douleur. 

Dr. Woodford had no cause to object except his own loss of hisniece's society and return to bachelor life, after the eight yearsof companionship which he had enjoyed; but such complications aswere induced by the presence of an attractive young girl were, as heallowed, beyond him, and he acquiesced with a sigh in the judgmentof the mother, whom he had always esteemed so highly. 

The letters were written, and in due time received kind replies. Mrs. Evelyn proposed that the young gentlewoman should come and staywith her till some situation should offer itself, and LadyOglethorpe, a warm-hearted Irishwoman, deeply attached to the Queen, declared her intention of speaking to the King or the Princess Anneon the first opportunity of the daughter of the brave CaptainWoodford. There might very possibly be a nursery appointment to behad either at the Cockpit or at Whitehall in the course of the year. 

This was much more than Mrs. Woodford had desired. She had farrather have placed her daughter immediately under some kind matronlylady in a private household; but she knew that her good friend wasalways eager to promise to the utmost of her possible power. Shedid not talk much of this to her daughter, only telling her that thekind ladies had promised to befriend her, and find a situation forher; and Anne was too much shocked to find her mother actuallymaking such arrangements to enter upon any inquiries. Theperception that her mother was looking forward to passing away sosoon entirely overset her; she would not think about it, would notadmit the bare idea of the loss. Only there lurked at the bottom ofher heart the feeling that when the crash had come, and desolationhad over taken her, it would be more dreary at Portchester thananywhere else; and there might be infinite possibilities beyond forthe King's godchild, almost a knight's daughter. 

The next time that Mrs. Woodford heard that Major Oakshott was atthe door inquiring for her health, she begged as a favour that hewould come and see her. 

The good gentleman came upstairs treading gently in his heavy boots, as one accustomed to an invalid chamber. 

"I am sorry to see you thus, madam, " he said, as she held out herwasted hand and thanked him. "Did you desire spiritualconsolations? There are times when our needs pass far beyondprescribed forms and ordinances. "

"I am thankful for the prayers of good men, " said Mrs. Woodford;"but for truth's sake I must tell you that this was not foremost inmy mind when I begged for this favour. "

He was evidently disappointed, for he was producing from his pocketthe little stout black-bound Bible, which, by a dent in one of thelids, bore witness of having been with him in his campaigns; andperhaps half-diplomatically, as well as with a yearning for onenessof spirit, she gratified him by requesting him to read and pray. 

With all his rigidity he was too truly pious a man for hisministrations to contain anything in which, Churchwoman as she was, she could not join with all her heart, and feel comforting; but erehe was about to rise from his knees she said, "One prayer for yourson, sir. "

A few fervent words were spoken on behalf of the wandering sheep, while tears glistened in the old man's eyes, and fell fast fromthose of the lady, and then he said, "Ah, madam! have I not wrestledin prayer for my poor boy?"

"I am sure you have, sir. I know you have a deep fatherly love forhim, and therefore I sent to speak to you as a dying woman. "

"And I will gladly hear you, for you have always been good to him, and, as I confess, have done him more good--if good can be calledthe apparent improvement in one unregenerate--than any other. "

"Except his uncle, " said Mrs. Woodford. "I fear it is vain to saythat I think the best hope of his becoming a good and valuable man, a comfort and not a sorrow to yourself, would be to let him even nowrejoin Sir Peregrine. "

"That cannot be, madam. My brother has not kept to theunderstanding on which I entrusted the lad to him, but has carriedhim into worldly and debauched company, such as has made the soberand godly habits of his home distasteful to him, and has furthertaken him into Popish lands, where he has become infected with theirabominations to a greater extent than I can yet fathom. "

Mrs. Woodford sighed and felt hopeless. "I see your view of thematter, sir. Yet may I suggest that it is hard for a young man tofind wholesome occupation such as may guard him from temptation onan estate where the master is active and sufficient like yourself?"

"Protection from temptation must come from within, madam, " repliedthe Major; "but I so far agree with you that in due time, when hehas attained his twenty-first year, I trust he will be wedded to hiscousin, a virtuous and pious young maiden, and will have themanagement of her property, which is larger than my own. "

"But if--if--sir, the marriage were distasteful to him, could it befor the happiness and welfare of either?"

"The boy has been complaining to you? Nay, madam, I blame you not. You have ever been the boy's best friend according to knowledge; buthe ought to know that his honour and mine are engaged. It is truethat Mistress Martha is not a Court beauty, such as his eyes haveunhappily learnt to admire, but I am acting verily for his truegood. 'Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain. '"

"Most true, sir; but let me say one more word. I fear, I greatlyfear, that all young spirits brook not compulsion. "

"That means, they will not bow their stiff necks to the yoke. "

"Ah, sir! but on the other hand, 'Fathers, provoke not your childrento wrath. ' Forgive me, sir; I spoke but out of true affection toyour son, and the fear that what may seem to him severity may notdrive him to some extremity that might grieve you. "

"No forgiveness is needed, madam. I thank you for your interest inhim, and for your plain speaking according to your lights. I canbut act according to those vouchsafed unto me. "

"And we both agree in praying for his true good, " said Mrs. Woodford. 

And with a mutual blessing they parted, Mrs. Woodford deeply sorryfor both father and son, for whom she had done what she could. 

It was her last interview with any one outside the house. Anotherattack of spasms brought the end, during the east winds of March, sosuddenly as to leave no time for farewells or last words. When shewas laid to rest in the little churchyard within the castle walls, no one showed such overwhelming tokens of grief as PeregrineOakshott, who lingered about the grave after the Doctor had takenhis niece home, and was found lying upon it late in the evening, exhausted with weeping. 

Yet Sedley Archfield, whose regiment had, after all, been sent toPortsmouth, reported that he had spent the very next afternoon at acock-fight, ending in a carouse with various naval and militaryofficers at a tavern, not drinking, but contributing to the mirth byforeign songs, tricks, and jests. 

CHAPTER XII: THE ONE HOPE

 "There's some fearful tieBetween me and that spirit world, which GodBrands with His terrors on my troubled mind. "

KINGSLEY. 

The final blow had fallen upon Anne Woodford so suddenly that forthe first few days she moved about as one in a dream. LadyArchfield came to her on the first day, and showed her motherlykindness, and Lucy was with her as much as was possible under theexactions of young Madam, who was just sufficiently unwell to resentattention being paid to any other living creature. She furtherdeveloped a jealousy of Lucy's affection for any other friend suchas led to a squabble between her and her husband, and made hermother-in-law unwillingly acquiesce in the expediency of Anne'sbeing farther off. 

And indeed Anne herself felt so utterly forlorn and desolate that animpatience of the place came over her. She was indeed fond of heruncle, but he was much absorbed in his studies, his parish, and inanxious correspondence on the state of the Church, and was scarcelya companion to her, and without her mother to engross her love andattention, and cut off from the Archfields as she now was, there waslittle to counterbalance the restless feeling that London and theprecincts of the Court were her natural element. So she wrote herletters according to her mother's desire, and waited anxiously forthe replies, feeling as if anything would be preferable to herpresent unhappiness and solitude. 

The answers came in due time. Mrs. Evelyn promised to try to find avirtuous and godly lady who would be willing to receive MistressAnne Woodford into her family, and Lady Oglethorpe wrote with vaguerpromises of high preferment, which excited Anne's imagination duringthose lonely hours that she had to spend while her strict mourning, after the custom of the time, secluded her from all visitors. 

Meantime, in that anxious spring of 1688, when the Church of Englandwas looking to her defences, the Doctor could not be much at home, and when he had time to listen to private affairs, he heard reportswhich did not please him of Peregrine Oakshott. That the young menin the county all abhorred his fine foreign airs was no seriousevil, though it might be suspected that his sharp ironical tonguehad quite as much to do with their dislike as his greater refinementof manner. 

His father was reported to be very seriously displeased with him, for he openly expressed contempt of the precise ways of thehousehold, and absented himself in a manner that could scarcely beattributed to aught but the licentious indulgences of the time; andas he seldom mingled in the amusements of the young countrygentlemen, it was only too probable that he found a lower grade ofcompanions in Portsmouth. Moreover his talk, random though it mightbe, offended all the Whig opinions of his father. He talked withthe dogmatism of the traveller of the glories of Louis XIV, andbroadly avowed his views that the grandeur of the nation was bestestablished under a king who asked no questions of people orParliament, 'that senseless set of chattering pies, ' as he wasreported to have called the House of Commons. 

He sang the praises of the gracious and graceful Queen MaryBeatrice, and derided 'the dried-up Orange stick, ' as he called thehope of the Protestants; nor did he scruple to pronounce Popery thefaith of chivalrous gentlemen, far preferable to the whining ofsullen Whiggery. No one could tell how far all this was genuineopinion, or simply delight in contradiction, especially of hisfather, who was in a constant state of irritation at the son whom hecould so little manage. 

And in the height of the wrath of the whole of the magistracy at theexpulsion of their lord-lieutenant, the Earl of Gainsborough, andthe substitution of the young Duke of Berwick, what must Peregrinedo but argue in high praise of that youth, whom he had several timesseen and admired. And when not a gentleman in the neighbourhoodchose to greet the intruder when he arrived as governor ofPortsmouth, Peregrine actually rode in to see him, and dined withhim. Words cannot express the Major's anger and shame at suchconsorting with a person, whom alike, on account of parentage, religion, and education, he regarded as a son of perdition. YetPeregrine would only coolly reply that he knew many a Protestant whowould hardly compare favourably with young Berwick. 

It was an anxious period that spring of 1688. The order to read theKing's Declaration of Indulgence from the pulpit had come as athunder-clap upon the clergy. The English Church had only knownrest for twenty-eight years, and now, by this unconstitutionalassumption of prerogative, she seemed about to be given up to be theprey of Romanists on the one hand and Nonconformists on the other;though for the present the latter were so persuaded that theIndulgence was merely a disguised advance of Rome that they were notat all grateful, expecting, as Mr. Horncastle observed, only to bethe last devoured, and he was as much determined as was Dr. Woodfordnot to announce it from his pulpit, whatever might be theconsequence; the latter thus resigning all hopes of promotion. 

News letters, public and private, were eagerly scanned. Though thediocesan, Bishop Mew, took no active part in the petition called alibel, being an extremely aged man, the imprisonment of Ken, sodeeply endeared to Hampshire hearts when Canon of Winchester andRector of Brighstone, and with the Bloody Assize and the executionof Alice Lisle fresh in men's memories, there could not but beextreme anxiety. 

In the midst arrived the tidings that a son had been born to theking--a son instantly baptized by a Roman Catholic priest, and nodoubt destined by James to rivet the fetters of Rome upon thekingdom, destroying at once the hope of his elder sister'saccession. Loyal Churchmen like the Archfields still hoped, recollecting how many infants had been born in the royal family onlyto die; but at Oakwood the Major and his chaplain shook their heads, and spoke of warming pans, to the vehement displeasure of Peregrine, who was sure to respond that the Queen was an angel, and that theWhigs credited every one with their own sly tricks. 

The Major groaned, and things seemed to have reached a pass verylike open enmity between father and son, though Peregrine stilllived at home, and reports were rife that the year of mourning forhis brother being expired, he was, as soon as he came of age, to bemarried to Mistress Martha Browning, and have an establishment ofhis own at Emsworth. 

Under these circumstances, it was with much satisfaction that Dr. Woodford said to his niece: "Child, here is an excellent offer foryou. Lady Russell, who you know has returned to live at Stratton, has heard you mentioned by Lady Mildmay. She has just married hereldest daughter, and needs a companion to the other, and has beentold of you as able to speak French and Italian, and otherwise welltrained. What! do you not relish the proposal?"

"Why, sir, would not my entering such a house do you harm at Court, and lessen your chance of preferment?"

"Think not of _that_, my child. "

"Besides, " added Anne, "since Lady Oglethorpe has written, it wouldnot be fitting to engage myself elsewhere before hearing from heragain. "

"You think so, Anne. Lady Russell's would be a far safer, betterhome for you than the Court. "

Anne knew it, but the thought of that widowed home depressed her. It might, she thought, be as dull as Oakwood, and there would beinfinite chances of preferment at Court. What she said, however, was: "It was by my mother's wish that I applied to LadyOglethorpe. "

"That is true, child. Yet I cannot but believe that if she hadknown of Lady Russell's offer, she would gladly and thankfully haveaccepted it. "

So said the secret voice within the girl herself, but she did notyet yield to it. "Perhaps she would, sir, " she answered, "if theother proposal were not made. 'Tis a Whig household though. "

"A Whig household is a safer one than a Popish one, " answered theDoctor. "Lady Russell is, by all they tell me, a very saint uponearth. "

Shall it be owned? Anne thought of Oakwood, and was not attractedtowards a saint upon earth. "How soon was the answer to be given?"she asked. 

"I believe she would wish you to meet her at Winchester next week, when, if you pleased her, you might return with her to Stratton. "

The Doctor hoped that Lady Oglethorpe's application might fail, butbefore the week was over she forwarded the definite appointment ofMistress Anne Jacobina Woodford as one of the rockers of his RoyalHighness the Prince of Wales, his Majesty having been graciouslypleased to remember her father's services and his own sponsorship. "If your friends consider the office somewhat beneath you, " wroteLady Oglethorpe, "it is still open to you to decline it. "

"Oh no; I would certainly not decline it!" cried Anne. "I could notpossibly do so; could I, sir?"

"Lady Oglethorpe says you might, " returned the Doctor; "and for mypart, niece, I should prefer the office of a gouvernante to that ofa rocker. "

"Ah, but it is to a Prince!" said Anne. "It is the way to somethingfurther. "

"And what may that something further be? That is the question, "said her uncle. "I will not control you, my child, for theapplication to this Court lady was by the wish of your good mother, who knew her well, but I own that I should be far more at rest onyour account if you were in a place of less temptation. "

"The Court is very different from what it was in the last King'stime, " pleaded Anne. 

"In some degree it may be; but on the other hand, the influencewhich may have purified it is of the religion that I fear may be aseduction. "

"Oh no, never, uncle; nothing could make me a Papist. "

"Do not be over confident, Anne. Those who run into temptation areapt to be left to themselves. "

"Indeed, sir, I cannot think that the course my mother shaped for mecan be a running into temptation. "

"Well, Anne, as I say, I cannot withstand you, since it was yourmother who requested Lady Oglethorpe's patronage for you, though Itell you sincerely that I believe that had the two courses been setbefore her she would have chosen the safer and more private one. 

"Nay but, dear sir, " still pleaded the maiden, "what would become ofyour chances of preferment if it were known that you had placed mewith Lord Russell's widow in preference to the Queen?"

"Let not that weigh with you one moment, child. I believe that nostaunch friend of our Protestant Church will be preferred by hisMajesty; nay, while the Archbishop and my saintly friend of Bath andWells are persecuted, I should be ashamed to think of promotion. Spurn the thought from you, child. "

"Nay, 'twas only love for you, dear uncle. "

"I know it, child. I am not displeased, only think it over, andpray over it, since the post will not go out until to-morrow. "

Anne did think, but not quite as her uncle intended. Theremembrance of the good-natured young Princesses, the large statelyrooms, the brilliant dresses, the radiance of wax lights, hadfloated before her eyes ever since her removal from Chelsea to thequieter regions of Winchester, and she had longed to get back tothem. She really loved her uncle, and whatever he might say, shelonged to push his advancement, and thought his unselfish abnegationthe greater reason for working for him; and in spite of knowing wellthat it was only a dull back-stair appointment, she could look tothe notice of Princess Anne, when once within her reach, andfurther, with the confidence of youth, believed that she had thatwithin her which would make her way upwards, and enable her toconfer promotion, honour, and dignity, on all her friends. Heruncle should be a Bishop, Charles a Peer (fancy his wife being underobligations to the parson's niece!), Lucy should have a perfecthusband, and an appointment should be found for poor Peregrine whichhis father could not gainsay. It was her bounden duty not to throwaway such advantages; besides loyalty to her Royal godfather couldnot permit his offer to be rejected, and her mother, when writing toLady Oglethorpe, must surely have had some such expectation. Norshould she be entirely cut off from her uncle, who was a Royalchaplain; and this was some consolation to the good Doctor when hefound her purpose fixed, and made arrangements for her to travel upto town in company with Lady Worsley of Gatcombe, whom she was tomeet at Southampton on the 1st of July. 

Meantime the Doctor did his best to arm his niece against theallurements to Romanism that he feared would be held out. LadyOglethorpe and other friends had assured him of the matronly care ofLady Powys and Lady Strickland to guard their department from allevil; but he did fear these religious influences and Anne, resoluteto resist all, perhaps not afraid of the conflict, was willing toarm herself for defence, and listened readily. She was no lessanxious to provide for her uncle's comfort in his absence, and manysmall matters of housewifery that had stood over for some time werenow to be purchased, as well as a few needments for her own outfit, although much was left for the counsel of her patroness in thematter of garments. 

Accordingly her uncle rode in with her to Portsmouth on a shoppingexpedition, and as the streets of the seaport were scarcely safe fora young woman without an escort, he carried a little book in hispocket wherewith he beguiled the time that she spent in theselection of his frying-pans, fire-irons, and the like, and her owngloves and kerchiefs. They dined at the 'ordinary' at the inn, andthere Dr. Woodford met his great friends Mr. Stanbury of Botley, andMr. Worsley of Gatcombe, in the Isle of Wight, who both, like him, were opposed to the reading of the Declaration of Indulgence, asunconstitutional, and deeply anxious as to the fate of the greatlybeloved Bishop of Bath and Wells. It was inevitable that theyshould fall into deep and earnest council together, and when dinnerwas over they agreed to adjourn to the house of a friend learned inecclesiastical law to hunt up the rights of the case, leaving Anneto await them in a private room at the Spotted Dog, shown to her bythe landlady. 

Anne well knew what such a meeting betided, and with a certainprevision, had armed herself with some knotting, wherewith she satdown in a bay window overlooking the street, whence she could seemarket-women going home with empty baskets, pigs being reluctantlydriven down to provision ships in the harbour, barrels of biscuit, salt meat, or beer, being rolled down for the same purpose, sailorsin loose knee-breeches, and soldiers in tall peaked caps and cross-belts, and officers of each service moving in different directions. She sat there day-dreaming, feeling secure in her loneliness, andpresently saw a slight figure, daintily clad in gray and black, whocatching her eye made an eager gesture, doffing his plumed hat andbowing low to her. She returned his salute, and thought he passedon, but in another minute she was startled to find him at her side, exclaiming: "This is the occasion I have longed and sought for, Mistress Anne; I bless and thank the fates. "

"I am glad to see you once more before I depart, " said Anne, holdingout her hand as frankly as she could to the old playfellow whom shealways thought ill-treated, but whom she could never meet without acertain shudder. 

"Then it is true?" he exclaimed. 

"Yes; I am to go up with Lady Worsley from Southampton next week. "

"Ah!" he cried, "but must that be?" and she felt his strange power, so that she drew into herself and said haughtily--

"My dear mother wished me to be with her friends, nor can the King'sappointment be neglected, though of course I am extremely grieved togo. "

"And you are dazzled with all these gewgaws of Court life, nodoubt?"

"I shall not be much in the way of gewgaws just yet, " said Annedrily. "It will be dull enough in some back room of Whitehall orSt. James's. "

"Say you so. You will wish yourself back--you, the lady of myheart--mine own good angel! Hear me. Say but the word, and yourhome will be mine, to say nothing of your own most devoted servant. "

"Hush, hush, sir! I cannot hear this, " said Anne, anxiouslyglancing down the street in hopes of seeing her uncle approaching. 

"Nay, but listen! This is my only hope--my only chance--I mustspeak--you doom me to you know not what if you will not hear me!"

"Indeed, sir, I neither will nor ought!"

"Ought! Ought! Ought you not to save a fellow-creature fromdistraction and destruction? One who has loved and looked to youever since you and that saint your mother lifted me out of themisery of my childhood. "

Then as she looked softened he went on: "You, you are my one hope. No one else can lift me out of the reach of the demon that has besetme even since I was born. "

"That is profane, " she said, the more severe for the growingattraction of repulsion. 

"What do I care? It is true! What was I till you and your mothertook pity on the wild imp? My old nurse said a change would come tome every seven years. That blessed change came just seven yearsago. Give me what will make a more blessed--a more saving change--or there will be one as much for the worse. "

"But--I could not. No! you must see for yourself that I could not--even if I would, " she faltered, really pitying now, and unwilling togive more pain than she could help. 

"Could not? It should be possible. I know how to bring it about. Give me but your promise, and I will make you mine--ay, and I willmake myself as worthy of you as man can be of saint-like maid. "

"No--no! This is very wrong--you are pledged already--"

"No such thing--believe no such tale. My promise has never beengiven to that grim hag of my father's choice--no, nor should beforced from me by the rack. Look you here. Let me take this hand, call in the woman of the house, give me your word, and my fatherwill own his power to bind me to Martha is at an end. "

"Oh, no! It would be a sin--never. Besides--" said Anne, holdingher hands tightly clasped behind her in alarm, lest against her willshe should let them be seized, and trying to find words to tell himhow little she felt disposed to trust her heart and herself to onewhom she might indeed pity, but with a sort of shrinking as fromsomething not quite human. Perhaps he dreaded her 'besides'--for hecut her short. 

"It would save ten thousand greater sins. See, here are two waysbefore us. Either give me your word, your precious word, go silentto London, leave me to struggle it out with my father and your uncleand follow you. Hope and trust will be enough to bear me throughthe battle without, and within deafen the demon of my nature, andrender me patient of my intolerable life till I have conquered andcan bring you home. "

Her tongue faltered as she tried to say such a secret unsanctionedengagement would be treachery, but he cut off the words. 

"You have not heard me out. There is another way. I know those whowill aid me. We can meet in early dawn, be wedded in one of thesechurches in all secrecy and haste, and I would carry you at once tomy uncle, who, as you well know, would welcome you as a daughter. Or, better still, we would to those fair lands I have scarce seen, but where I could make my way with sword or pen with you to inspireme. I have the means. My uncle left this with me. Speak! It isdeath or life to me. "

This last proposal was thoroughly alarming, and Anne retreated, drawing herself to her full height, and speaking with the dignitythat concealed considerable terror. 

"No, indeed, sir. You ought to know better than to utter suchproposals. One who can make such schemes can certainly obtain norespect nor regard from the lady he addresses. Let me pass"--forshe was penned up in the bay window--"I shall seek the landlady tillmy uncle returns. "

"Nay, Mistress Anne, do not fear me. Do not drive me to utterdespair. Oh, pardon me! Nothing but utter desperation could driveme to have thus spoken; but how can I help using every effort to winher whose very look and presence is bliss! Nothing else soothes andcalms me; nothing else so silences the demon and wakens the betterpart of my nature. Have you no pity upon a miserable wretch, whowill be dragged down to his doom without your helping hand?"

He flung himself on his knee before her, and tried to grasp herhand. 

"Indeed, I am sorry for you, Master Oakshott, " said Anne, compassionate, but still retreating as far as the window would lether; "but you are mistaken. If this power be in me, which I cannotquite believe--yes, I see what you want to say, but if I did what Iknow to be wrong, I should lose it at once; God's grace can save youwithout me. "

"I will not ask you to do what you call wrong; no, nor to transgressany of the ties you respect, you, whose home is so unlike mine; onlytell me that I may have hope, that if I deserve you, I may win you;that you could grant me--wretched me--a share of your affection. "

This was hardest of all; mingled pity and repugnance, truth andcompassion strove within the maiden as well as the strange influenceof those extraordinary eyes. She was almost as much afraid ofherself as of her suitor. At last she managed to say, "I am verysorry for you; I grieve from my heart for your troubles; I should bevery glad to hear of your welfare and anything good of you, but--"

"But, but--I see--it is mere frenzy in me to think the blighted elfcan aspire to be aught but loathsome to any lady--only, at least, tell me you love no one else. "

"No, certainly not, " she said, as if his eyes drew it forcibly fromher. 

"Then you cannot hinder me from making you my guiding star--hopingthat if yet I can--"

"There's my uncle!" exclaimed Anne, in a tone of infinite relief. "Stand up, Mr. Oakshott, compose yourself. Of course I cannothinder your thinking about me, if it will do you any good, but thereare better things to think about which would conquer evil and makeyou happy more effectually. "

He snatched her hand and kissed it, nor did she withhold it, sinceshe really pitied him, and knew that her uncle was near, and allwould soon be over. 

Peregrine dashed away by another door as Dr. Woodford's foot was onthe stairs. "I have ordered the horses, " he began. "They told meyoung Oakshott was here. "

"He was, but he is gone;" and she could not quite conceal heragitation. 

"Crimson cheeks, my young mistress? Ah, the foolish fellow! You donot care for him, I trust?"

"No, indeed, poor fellow. What, did you know, sir?"

"Know. Yes, truly--and your mother likewise, Anne. It was onecause of her wishing to send you to safer keeping than mine seems tobe. My young spark made his proposals to us both, though we wouldnot disturb your mind therewith, not knowing how he would have dealtwith his father, nor viewing him, for all he is heir to Oakwood, asa desirable match in himself. I am glad to see you have sense anddiscretion to be of the same mind, my maid. "

"I cannot but grieve for his sad condition, sir, " replied Anne, "butas for anything more--it would make me shudder to think of it--he isstill too like Robin Goodfellow. "

"That's my good girl, " said her uncle. "And do you know, child, there are the best hopes for the Bishops. There's a gentleman comedown but now from London, who says 'twas like a triumph as theBishops sat in their barge on the way to the Tower; crowds swarmingalong the banks, begging for their blessing, and they waving it withtears in their eyes. The King will be a mere madman if he dares totouch a hair of their heads. Well, when I was a lad, Bishops weresent to the Tower by the people; I little thought to live to seethem sent thither by the King. "

All the way home Dr. Woodford talked of the trial, beginning perhapsto regret that his niece must go to the very focus of Romaninfluence in England, where there seemed to be little scruple as tothe mode of conversion. Would it be possible to alter herdestination? was his thought, when he rose the next day, but loyaltystood in the way, and that very afternoon another event happenedwhich made it evident that the poor girl must leave Portchester assoon as possible. 

She had gone out with him to take leave of some old cottagers in thevillage, and he finding himself detained to minister to a case ofunexpected illness, allowed her to go home alone for about a quarterof a mile along the white sunny road at the foot of Portsdown, withthe castle full in view at one end, and the cottage where he was atthe other. Many a time previously had she trodden it alone, but shehad not reckoned on two officers coming swaggering from a cross roaddown the hill, one of them Sedley Archfield, who immediately calledout, "Ha, ha! my pretty maid, no wench goes by without paying toll;"and they spread their arms across the road so as to arrest her. 

"Sir, " said Anne, drawing herself up with dignity, "you mistake--"

"Not a whit, my dear; no exemption here;" and there was a horselaugh, and an endeavour to seize her, as she stepped back, feelingthat in quietness lay her best chance of repelling them, adding--

"My uncle is close by. "

"The more cause for haste;" and they began to close upon her. Butat that moment Peregrine Oakshott, leaping from his horse, was amongthem, with the cry--

"Dastards! insulting a lady. "

"Lady, forsooth! the parson's niece. "

In a few seconds--very long seconds to her--her flying feet hadbrought her back to the cottage, where she burst in with--"Pardon, pardon, sir; come quick; there are swords drawn; there will bebloodshed if you do not come. "

He obeyed the summons without further query, for when all men woreswords the neighbourhood of a garrison were only too liable to suchencounters outside. There was no need for her to gasp out more;from the very cottage door he could see the need of haste, for theswords were actually flashing, and the two young men in position tofight. Anne shook her head, unable to do more than sign her thanksto the good woman of the cottage, who offered her a seat. She leantagainst the door, and watched as her uncle, sending his voice beforehim, called on them to desist. 

There was a start, then each drew back and held down his weapon, butwith a menacing gesture on one side, a shrug of the shoulders on theother, which impelled the Doctor to use double speed in the fearthat the parting might be with a challenge reserved. 

He was in time to stand warning, and arguing that if he pardoned theslighting words and condoned the insult to his niece, no one had aright to exact vengeance; and in truth, whatever were his arguments, he so dealt with the two young men as to force them into shakinghands before they separated, though with a contemptuous look oneither side--a scowl from Sedley, a sneer from Peregrine, boding illfor the future, and making him sigh. 

"Ah! sister, sister, you judged aright. Would that I could havesent the maid sooner away rather than that all this ill blood shouldhave been bred. Yet I may only be sending her to greater temptationand danger. But she is a good maiden; God bless her and keep herhere and there, now and for evermore, as I trust He keepeth our goodDr. Ken in this sore strait. The trial may even now be over. Ah, my child, here you are! Frightened were you by that rude fellow?Nay, I believe you were almost equally terrified by him who came tothe rescue. You will soon be out of their reach, my dear. "

"Yes, that is one great comfort in going, " sighed Anne. Onecomfort--yes--though she would not have stayed had the choice beengiven her now. And shall the thought be told that flashed over herand coloured her cheeks with a sort of shame yet of pleasure, "Isurely must have power over men! I know mother would say it is aterrible danger one way, and a great gift another. I will notmisuse it; but what will it bring me? Or am I only a rustic beautyafter all, who will be nobody elsewhere?"

Still heartily she wished that her rescuer had been any one else inthe wide world. It was almost uncanny that he should have sprungout of the earth at such a moment. 

CHAPTER XIII: THE BONFIRE

"From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, From Lynn to Milford Bay, That time of slumber was as Bright and busy as the day;For swift to east and swift to west The fiery herald sped, High on St. Michael's Mount it shone: It shone on Beachy Head. "

MACAULAY. 

Doctor Woodford and his niece had not long reached their own doorwhen the clatter of a horse's hoofs was heard, and Charles Archfieldwas seen, waving his hat and shouting 'Hurrah!' before he came nearenough to speak, "Good news, I see!" said the Doctor. 

"Good news indeed! Not guilty! Express rode from Westminster Hallwith the news at ten o'clock this morning. All acquitted. Expresses could hardly get away for the hurrahing of the people. Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" cried the young man, throwing up his hat, while Doctor Woodford, taking off his own, gave graver, deeperthanks that justice was yet in England, that these noble andhonoured confessors were safe, and that the King had been saved fromfurther injustice and violence to the Church. 

"We are to have a bonfire on Portsdown hill, " added Charles. "Theywill be all round the country, in the Island, and everywhere. Myfather is rid one way to spread the tidings, and give orders. I'mgoing on into Portsmouth, to see after tar barrels. You'll bethere, sir, and you, Anne?" There was a moment's hesitation afterthe day's encounters, but he added, "My mother is going, and mylittle Madam, and Lucy. They will call for you in the coach if youwill be at Ryder's cottage at nine o'clock. It will not be darkenough to light up till ten, so there will be time to get a noblepile ready. Come, Anne, 'tis Lucy's last chance of seeing you--sostrange as you have made yourself of late. "

This plea decided Anne, who had been on the point of declaring thatshe should have an excellent view from the top of the keep. However, not only did she long to see Lucy again, but the enthusiasmwas contagious, and there was an attraction in the centre of popularrejoicing that drew both her and her uncle, nor could there be adoubt of her being sufficiently protected when among the Archfieldladies. So the arrangement was accepted, and then there was thecry--

"Hark! the Havant bells! Ay! and the Cosham! Portsmouth is pealingout. That's Alverstoke. They know it there. A salute! Another. "

"Scarce loyal from the King's ships, " said the Doctor, smiling. 

"Nay, 'tis only loyalty to rejoice that the King can't make a foolof himself. So my father says, " rejoined Charles. 

And that seemed to be the mood of all England. When Anne and heruncle set forth in the summer sunset light the great hill above themwas dark with the multitudes thronging around the huge pyre risingin the midst. They rested for some minutes at the cottage indicatedbefore the arrival of Sir Philip, who rode up accompanying the coachin which his three ladies were seated, and which was quite largeenough to receive Dr. Woodford and Mistress Anne. Charles was inthe throng, in the midst of most of the younger gentlemen of theneighbourhood, and a good many of the naval and military officers, directing the arrangement of the pile. 

What a scene it was, as seen even from the windows of the coachwhere the ladies remained, for the multitude of sailors, soldiers, town and village people, though all unanimous, were far tootumultuous for them to venture beyond their open door, especially aslittle Mrs. Archfield was very far from well, and nothing but hereagerness for amusement could have brought her hither, and of courseshe could not be left. Probably she knew as little of the realbearings of the case or the cause of rejoicing as did the boys whopervaded everything with their squibs, and were only restrained fromfiring them in the faces of the horses by wholesome fear of the bigwhips of the coachman and outriders who stood at the horses' heads. 

It was hardly yet dark when the match was put to the shavings, andto the sound of the loud 'Hurrahs!' and cries of 'Long live theBishops!' 'Down with the Pope!' the flame kindled, crackled, andleapt up, while a responsive fire was seen on St. Catherine's Downin the Isle of Wight, and northward, eastward, westward, on everyavailable point, each new light greeted by fresh acclamations, as itshone out against the summer night sky, while the ships in theharbour showed their lights, reflected in the sea, as the sky grewdarker. Then came a procession of sailors and other rough folk, bearing between poles a chair with a stuffed figure with a kind oftiara, followed by others with scarlet hats and capes, and withreiterated shouts of 'Down with the Pope!' these were hurled intothe fire with deafening hurrahs, their more gorgeous trappings beingcleverly twitched off at the last moment, as part of the propertiesfor the 5th of November. 

Little Mrs. Archfield clapped her hands and screamed with delight aseach fresh blaze shot up, and chattered with all her might, sometimes about some lace and perfumes which she wanted Anne toprocure for her in London at the sign of the Flower Pot, sometimesgrumbling at her husband having gone off to the midst of the partyclosest to the fire, "Just like Mr. Archfield, always leaving her toherself, " but generally very well amused, especially when a group ofgentlemen, officers, and county neighbours gathered round the opendoor talking to the ladies within. 

Peregrine was there with his hands in his pockets, and a queerironical smile writhing his features. He was asked if his fatherand brother were present. 

"Not my father, " he replied. "He has a logical mind. Martha is uphere with her guardian, and I am keeping out of her way, and mybrother is full in the thick of the fray. A bonfire is a bonfire tomost folks, were it to roast their grandsire!"

"Oh, fie, Mr. Oakshott, how you do talk!" laughed Mrs. Archfield. 

"Nay, but you rejoice in the escape of the good Bishops, " put inLucy. 

"For what?" asked Peregrine. "For refusing to say live and letlive?"

"Not against letting _live_, but against saying sounconstitutionally, my young friend, " said Dr. Woodford, "ortyrannising over our consciences. "

Generally Peregrine was more respectful to Dr. Woodford than to anyone else; but there seemed to be a reckless bitterness about him onthat night, and he said, "I marvel with what face those same EightReverend Seigniors will preach against the French King. "

"Sir, " thrust in Sedley Archfield, "I am not to hear opprobriousepithets applied to the Bishops. "

"What was the opprobrium?" lazily demanded Peregrine, and in spiteof his unpopularity, the laugh was with him. Sedley grew moreangry. 

"You likened them to the French King--"

"The most splendid monarch in Europe, " said Peregrine coolly. 

"A Frenchman!" quoth one of the young squires with witheringcontempt. 

"He has that ill fortune, sir, " said Peregrine. "Mayhap he would besensible of the disadvantage, if he evened himself with some of myreasonable countrymen. "

"Do you mean that for an insult, sir?" exclaimed Sedley Archfield, striding forward. 

"As you please, " said Peregrine. "To me it had the sound ofcompliment. "

"Oh la! they'll fight, " cried Mrs. Archfield. "Don't let them!Where's the Doctor? Where's Sir Philip?"

"Hush, my dear, " said Lady Archfield; "these gentlemen would notfall out close to us. "

Dr. Woodford was out of sight, having been drawn into controversywith a fellow-clergyman on the limits of toleration. Anne lookedanxiously for him, but with provoking coolness Peregrine presentlysaid, "There's no crowd near, and if you will step out, the fires onthe farther hills are to be seen well from the knoll hard by. "

He spoke chiefly to Anne, but even if she had not a kind ofshrinking from trusting herself with him in this strange wild scene, she would have been prevented by Mrs. Archfield's eager cry--

"Oh, I'll come, let me come! I'm so weary of sitting here. Thankyou, Master Oakshott. "

Lady Archfield's remonstrance was lost as Peregrine helped thelittle lady out, and there was nothing for it but to follow her, asclose as might be, as she hung on her cavalier's arm chattering, andnow and then giving little screams of delight or alarm. LadyArchfield and her daughter each was instantly squired, but MistressWoodford, a nobody, was left to keep as near them as she could, andgaze at the sparks of light of the beacons in the distance, thinkinghow changed the morrow would be to her. 

Presently a figure approached, and Charles Archfield's voice said, "Is that you, Anne? Did I hear my wife's voice?"

"Yes, she is there. "

"And with that imp of evil! I would his own folk had him!" mutteredCharles, dashing forward with "How now, madam? you were not to leavethe coach!"

She laughed exultingly. "Ha, sir! see what comes of leaving me tobetter cavaliers, while you run after your fire! I should have seennothing but for Master Oakshott. "

"Come with me now, " said Charles; "you ought not to be standing herein the dew. "

"Ha, ha! what a jealous master, " she said; but she put her arm intohis, saying with a courtesy, "Thank you, Master Oakshott, lords mustbe obeyed. I should have been still buried in the old coach but foryou. "

Peregrine fell back to Anne. "That blaze is at St. Helen's, " hebegan. "That--what! will you not wait a moment?"

"No, no! They will want to be going home. "

"And have you forgotten that it is only just over Midsummer? Thisis the week of my third seventh--the moment for change. O Anne!make it a change for the better. Say the word, and the die will becast. All is ready! Come!"

He tried to take her hand, but the vehemence of his words, spokenunder his breath, terrified her, and with a hasty "No, no! you knownot what you talk of, " she hastened after her friends, and was gladto find herself in the safe haven of the interior of the coach. 

Ere long they drove down the hill, and at the place of parting wereset down, the last words in Anne's ears being Mrs. Archfield'sinjunctions not to forget the orange flower-water at the sign of theFlower Pot, drowning Lucy's tearful farewells. 

As they walked away in the moonlight a figure was seen in thedistance. 

"Is that Peregrine Oakshott?" asked the Doctor. "That young man isin a desperate mood, ready to put a quarrel on any one. I hope noharm will come of it. "

CHAPTER XIV: GATHERING MOUSE-EAR

"I heard the groans, I marked the tears, I saw the wound his bosom bore. "

SCOTT. 

After such an evening it was not easy to fall asleep, and Annetossed about, heated, restless, and uneasy, feeling that to remainat home was impossible, yet less satisfied about her futureprospects, and doubtful whether she had not done herself harm byattending last night's rejoicings, and hoping that nothing wouldhappen to reveal her presence there. 

She was glad that the night was not longer, and resolved to takeadvantage of the early morning to fulfil a commission of LadyOglethorpe, whose elder children, Lewis and Theophilus, had thewhooping-cough. Mouse-ear, namely, the little sulphur-colouredhawk-weed, was, and still is, accounted a specific, and Anne hadbeen requested to bring a supply--a thing easily done, since it grewplentifully in the court of the castle. 

She dressed herself in haste, made some of her preparations for thejourney, and let herself out of the house, going first for one lastlook at her mother's green grave in the dewy churchyard, andgathering from it a daisy, which she put into her bosom, then in thefair morning freshness, and exhilaration of the rising sun, crossingthe wide tilt-yard, among haycocks waiting to be tossed, andarriving at the court within, filling her basket between thechurchyard and the gateway tower and keep, when standing up for amoment she was extremely startled to see Peregrine Oakshott'sunmistakable figure entering at the postern of the court. 

With vague fears of his intentions, and instinctive terror ofmeeting him alone, heightened by that dread of his power, she flewin at the great bailey tower door, hoping that he had not seen her, but tolerably secure that even if he had, and should pursue her, shewas sufficiently superior in knowledge of the stairs and passages tobaffle him, and make her way along the battlements to the tower atthe corner of the court nearest the parsonage, where there was aturret stair by which she could escape. 

Up the broken stairs she went, shutting behind her every availabledoor in the chambers and passages, but not as quickly as she wished, since attention to her feet was needful in the ruinous state ofsteps and walls. Through those massive walls she could hear nothingdistinctly, but she fancied voices and a cry, making her seek moreintricate windings, nor did she dare to look out till she had gaineda thick screen of bushy ivy at the corner of the turret, where alittle door opened on the broad summit of the battlemented wall. 

Then, what horror was it that she beheld? Or was it a dream? Sheeven passed her hands over her face and looked again. Peregrine andCharles, yes, it was Charles Archfield, were fighting with swords inthe court beneath. She gave a shriek, in a wild hope of partingthem, but at that instant she saw Peregrine fall, and with theimpulse of rushing to aid she hurried down, impeded however bystumbles, and by the doors, she herself had shut, and when sheemerged, she saw only Charles, standing like one dazed and white asdeath. 

"O Mr Archfield! where is he? What have you done?" The young manpointed to the opening of the vault. Then, speaking with an effort, "He was quite dead; my sword went through him. He forced it on me--he was pursuing you. I withstood him--and--"

He gasped heavily as the words came one by one. She trembledexceedingly, and would have looked into the vault, with, "Are youquite sure?" but he grasped her hand and withheld her. 

"Only too sure! Yes, I have done it! It could not be helped. Iwould give myself up at once, but, Anne, there is my wife. Theytell me any shock would kill her as she is now. I should be doublemurderer. Will you keep the secret, Anne, always my friend? And'twas for you. "

"Indeed, indeed, I will not betray you. I go away in two hours, "said Anne; and he caught her hand. "But oh!" and she pointed to theblood on the grass, then with sudden thought, "Heap the hay overit, " running to fill her arms with the lately-cut grass. 

He mechanically did the same, and then they stood for a moment, awe-stricken. 

"God forgive me!" said the poor young man. "How to hide it I hardlyknow, but for _her_ sake, ah--'twas that brought me here. She couldnot rest last night till I had promised to be here early enough inthe morning to give you a piece of sarcenet to be matched in London. Where is it? Ah! I forget. It seems to be ages ago that she wasinsisting that I should ride over so as to be in time. "

"Lucy must write, " said Anne, "O Charley! wipe that dreadful sword, look like yourself. I am going in a couple of hours. There is nofear of me! but oh! that you should have done such a thing! andthrough me!"

"Hush! hush! don't talk. I must be gone ere folks are about. Myhorse is outside. " He wrung her hand and kissed it, forgetting togive her the pattern, and Anne, still stunned, walked back to theparsonage, her one thought how to control herself so as to guardCharles's secret. 

It must be remembered that in the generation succeeding that whichhad fought a long civil war, and when duels were common assertionsof honour and self-respect among young gentlemen, homicide was notso exceptional and heinous an offence in ordinary eyes as when ahigher value has come to be set on life, and acts of violence arefar less frequent. 

Charles had drawn his sword in fair fight, and in her own defence, and thus it was natural that Anne Woodford should think of his deed, certainly with a shudder, but with more of pity than of horror, andwith gratitude that made her feel bound to do her utmost to guardhim from the consequences; also there was a sense of relief, andperhaps a feeling as if the victim were scarcely a human creaturelike others. It never occurred to her till some time after torecollect it would have had an unpleasant sound that she had beenthe occasion of such an 'unseemly brawl' between two young men, oneof them a married man. When the thought occurred to her it made theblood rash hotly to her cheeks. 

It was well for her that the pain of leaving home and the bustle ofpreparation concealed that she had suffered a great shock, andaccounted for her not being able to taste any breakfast beyond adraught of milk. Her ears were intent all the time to perceive anytoken whether the haymakers had come into the court and haddiscovered any trace of the ghastly thing in the vault, and shehardly heard the kind words of her uncle or the coaxings of his oldhousekeeper. She dreaded especially the sight of Hans, so fondlyattached to his master's nephew, and it was with a sense of infiniterelief--instead of the tender grief otherwise natural--that she wasseated in the boat for Portsmouth, and her uncle believing her to becrying, left her undisturbed till she had composed herself to wearthe front that she knew was needful, however her heart might throbbeneath it, and as their boat threaded its way through the ships, even then numerous, she looked wistfully up at the tall tower of thecastle, with earnest prayers for the living, and a longing she durstnot utter, to ask her uncle whether it were right to pray for thepoor strange, struggling soul, always so cruelly misunderstood, andnow so summarily dismissed from the world of trial. 

Yet presently there was a revulsion of feeling as she was rousedfrom her meditations by the coxswain's answer to her uncle, who hadasked what was a smart, swift little smack, which after receivingsomething from a boat, began stretching her wings and making allsail for the Isle of Wight. 

The men looked significant and hesitated. 

"Smugglers, eh? Traders in French brandy?" asked the Doctor. 

"Well, your reverence, so they says. They be a rough lot out thereby at the back of the Island. "

"There would be small harm in letting a poor man get a drink ofspirits cheap to warm his heart, " said one of the other men; "butthey say as how 'tis a very nest of 'em out there, and that's how noone can ever pitch on the highwaymen, such as robbed Farmer Vinet'other day a coming home from market. "

"They do say, " added the other, "that there's them as ought to knowbetter that is thick with them. There's that young master up atOakwood--that crooked slip as they used to say was a changeling--gets out o' window o' nights and sails with them. "

"He has nought to do with the robberies, they say, " added thecoxswain; "but I could tell of many a young spark who has gone outwith the fair traders for the sport's sake, and because gentle folkdon't know what to do with their time. "

"And they do say the young chap is kept uncommon tight at home. "

Here the sight of a vessel of war coming in changed the topic, butit had given Anne something more to think of. Peregrine had spokenof means arranged for making her his own. Could that smugglingyacht have anything to do with them? He could hardly have reckonedon meeting her alone in the morning, but he might have attempted tofind her thus--or failing that, he might have run down the boat. Ifso, she had a great deliverance to be thankful for, and Charles'stimely appearance had been a great blessing. But Peregrine! poorPeregrine! it became doubly terrible that he should have perished onthe eve of such a deed. It was cruel to entertain such thoughts ofthe dead, yet it was equally impossible not to feel comfort in beingrid for ever of one who had certainly justified the vague alarmwhich he had always excited in her. She could not grieve for himnow that the first shock was over, but she must suppress all tokensof her extreme anxiety on account of Charles Archfield. 

Thus she was landed at Portsmouth, and walked up the street to theSpotted Dog, where Lady Worsley was taking an early noonchine beforestarting for London, having crossed from the little fishing villageof Ryde. Here Anne parted with her uncle, who promised an earlyletter, though she could hardly restrain a shudder at the thought ofthe tidings that it might contain. 

CHAPTER XV: NEWS FROM FAREHAM

"My soul its secret hath, my life too hath its mystery. Hopeless the evil is, I have not told its history. "

JEAN INGELOW. 

Lady Worsley was a handsome, commanding old dame, who soon made hercharge feel the social gulf between a county magnate and aclergyman's niece. She decidedly thought that Mistress AnneJacobina held her head too high for her position, and was, moreover, conceited of an unfortunate amount of good looks. 

Therefore the good lady did her best to repress these dangeroustendencies by making the girl sit on the back seat with two maids, and uttering long lectures on humility, modesty, and discretionwhich made the blood of the sea-captain's daughter boil withindignation. 

Yet she always carried with her the dread of being pursued andcalled upon to accuse Charles Archfield of Peregrine's death. Itwas a perpetual cloud, dispersed, indeed, for a time by the eventsof the day, but returning at night, when not only was the combatacted over again, but when she fell asleep it was only to be pursuedby Peregrine through endless vaulted dens of darkness, or, what wasfar worse, to be trying to hide a stream of blood that could neverbe stanched. 

It was no wonder that she looked pale in the morning, and felt sotired and dejected as to make her sensible that she was cast loosefrom home and friends when no one troubled her with remarks orinquiries such as she could hardly have answered. However, when, onthe evening of the second day's journey, Anne was set down at SirTheophilus Oglethorpe's house at Westminster, she met with a verydifferent reception. 

Lady Oglethorpe, a handsome, warm-hearted Irish woman, met her atonce in the hall with outstretched hands, and a kiss on each cheek. 

"Come in, my dear, my poor orphan, the daughter of one who was verydear to me! Ah, how you have grown! I could never have thoughtthis was the little Anne I recollect. You shall come up to yourchamber at once, and rest you, and make ready for supper, by thetime Sir Theophilus comes in from attending the King. "

Anne found herself installed in a fresh-smelling wainscotted room, where a glass of wine and some cake was ready for her, and where shemade herself ready, feeling exhilarated in spirits as she performedher toilette, putting on her black evening dress, and refreshing thecurls of her brown hair. It was a simple dress of deep mourning, but it became her well, and the two or three gentlemen who had comein to supper with Sir Theophilus evidently admired her greatly, andcomplimented her on having a situation at Court, which was all thatLady Oglethorpe mentioned. 

"Child, " she said afterwards, when they were in private, "if I hadknown what you looked like I would have sought a different positionfor you. But, there, to get one's foot--were it but the toe ofone's shoe--in at Court is the great point after all, the rest mustcome after. I warrant me you are well educated too. Can you speakFrench?"

"Oh yes, madam, and Italian, and dance and play on the spinnet. Iwas with two French ladies at Winchester every winter who taughtsuch things. "

"Well, well, mayhap we may get you promoted to a sub-governess'splace--though your religion is against you. You are not a Catholic--eh?"

"No, your ladyship. "

"That's the only road to favour nowadays, though for the name of thething they may have a Protestant or two. You are the King'sgodchild too, so he will expect it the more from you. However, wemay find a better path. You have not left your heart in thecountry, eh?"

Anne blushed and denied it. 

"You will be mewed up close enough in the nursery, " ran on LadyOglethorpe. "Lady Powys keeps close discipline there, and I expectshe will be disconcerted to see how fine a fish I have brought toher net; but we will see--we will see how matters go. But, my dear, have you no coloured clothes? There is no appearing in the Royalhousehold in private mourning. It might daunt the Prince's spiritsin his cradle!" and she laughed, though Anne felt much annoyed atthus disregarding her mother, as well as at the heavy expense. However, there was no help for it; the gowns and laces hidden in thebottom of her mails were disinterred, and the former were for themost part condemned, so that she had to submit to a fresh outfit, inwhich Lady Oglethorpe heartily interested herself, but which drainedthe purse that the Canon had amply supplied. 

These arrangements were not complete when the first letter from homearrived, and was opened with a beating heart, and furtive glances asof one who feared to see the contents, but they were by no meanswhat she expected. 

I hope you have arrived safely in London, and that you are notdispleased with your first taste of life in a Court. Neithertown nor country is exempt from sorrow and death. I was summonedonly on the second day after your departure to share in thesorrows at Archfield, where the poor young wife died early onFriday morning, leaving a living infant, a son, who, I hope, mayprove a blessing to them, if he is spared, which can scarcely beexpected. The poor young man, and indeed all the family, are inthe utmost distress, and truly there were circumstances thatrender the event more than usually deplorable, and for which heblames himself exceedingly, even to despair. It appears that thepoor young gentlewoman wished to add some trifle to the numerouscommissions with which she was entrusting you on the night of thebonfire, and that she could not be pacified except by her husbandundertaking to ride over to give the patterns and the orders toyou before your setting forth. You said nothing of having seenhim--nor do I see how it was possible that you could have doneso, seeing that you only left your chamber just before thebreakfast that you never tasted, my poor child. He neverreturned till long after noon, and what with fretting after him, and disappointment, that happened which Lady Archfield had alwaysapprehended, and the poor fragile young creature worked herselfinto a state which ended before midnight in the birth of a punybabe, and her own death shortly after. She wanted two months ofcompleting her sixteenth year, and was of so frail a constitutionthat Dr. Brown had never much hope of her surviving the birth ofher child. It was a cruel thing to marry her thus early, ungrownin body or mind, but she had no one to care for her before shewas brought hither. The blame, as I tell Sir Philip, and wouldfain persuade poor Charles, is really with those who bred her upso uncontrolled as to be the victim of her humours; but theunhappy youth will listen to no consolation. He calls himself amurderer, shuts himself up, and for the most part will see andspeak to no one, but if forced by his father's command to unlockhis chamber door, returns at once to sit with his head hidden inhis arms crossed upon the table, and if father, mother, or sisterstrive to rouse him and obtain answer from him, he will onlymurmur forth, "I should only make it worse if I did. " It ispiteous to see a youth so utterly overcome, and truly I think hiscondition is a greater distress to our good friends than the lossof the poor young wife. They asked him what name he would havegiven to his child, but all the answer they could get was, "Asyou will, only not mine;" and in the enforced absence of mybrother of Fareham I baptized him Philip. The funeral will takeplace to-morrow, and Sir Philip proposes immediately after totake his son to Oxford, and there endeavour to find a tutor ofmature age and of prudence, with whom he may either study at NewCollege or be sent on the grand tour. It is the only notion thatthe poor lad has seemed willing to entertain, as if to get awayfrom his misery, and I cannot but think it well for him. He isnot yet twenty, and may, as it were, begin life again the wiserand the better man for his present extreme sorrow. LadyArchfield is greatly wrapped up in the care of the babe, who, Ifear, is in danger of being killed by overcare, if by nothingelse, though truly all is in the hands of God. I have scarcequitted the afflicted family since I was summoned to them onFriday, since Sir Philip has no one else on whom to depend forcomfort or counsel; and if I can obtain the services of Mr. Ellisfrom Portsmouth for a few Sundays, I shall ride with him toOxford to assist in the choice of a tutor to go abroad with Mr. Archfield. 

One interruption however I had, namely, from Major Oakshott, whocame in great perturbation to ask what was the last I had seen ofhis son Peregrine. It appears that the unfortunate young mannever returned home after the bonfire on Portsdown Hill, wherehis brother Robert lost sight of him, and after waiting as longas he durst, returned home alone. It has become known that afterparting with us high words passed between him and LieutenantSedley Archfield, insomuch that after the unhappy fashion ofthese times, blood was demanded, and early in the morning Sedleysent the friend who was to act as second to bear the challenge toyoung Oakshott. You can conceive the reception that he waslikely to receive at Oakwood; but it was then discovered thatPeregrine had not been in his bed all night, nor had any one seenor heard of him. Sedley boasts loudly that the youngster hasfled the country for fear of him, and truly things have thatappearance, although to my mind Peregrine was far from wanting inspirit or courage. But, as he had not received the cartel, hemight not have deemed his honour engaged to await it, and Iincline to the belief that he is on his way to his uncle inMuscovy, driven thereto by his dread of the marriage with thegentlewoman whom he holds in so much aversion. I have striven toconsole his father by the assurance that such tidings of him willsurely arrive in due time, but the Major is bitterly grieved, andis galled by the accusation of cowardice. "He could not even betrue to his own maxims of worldly honour, " says the poorgentleman. "So true it is that only by grace we stand fast. "The which is true enough, but the poor gentleman unwittingly didhis best to make grace unacceptable in his son's eyes. I trustsoon to hear again of you, my dear child. I rejoice that LadyOglethorpe is so good to you, and I hope that in the palace youwill guard first your faith and then your discretion. And sopraying always for your welfare, alike spiritual and temporal. --Your loving uncle, JNO. WOODFORD. 

Truly it was well that Anne had secluded herself to read thisletter. 

So the actual cause for which poor Charles Archfield had entreatedsilence was at an end. The very evil he had apprehended had come topass, and she could well understand how, on his return in a horror-stricken, distracted state of mind, the childish petulance of hiswife had worried him into loss of temper, so that he hardly knewwhat he said. And what must not his agony of remorse be? She couldscarcely imagine how he had avoided confessing all as a mere reliefto his mind, but then she reflected that when he called himself amurderer the words were taken in another sense, and no questionsasked, nor would he be willing to add such grief and shame to hisparents' present burthen, especially as no suspicion existed. 

That Peregrine's fate had not been discovered greatly relieved her. She believed the vault to go down to a considerable depth after afirst platform of stone near the opening, and it was generallyavoided as the haunt of hobgoblins, fairies, or evil beings, so thatno one was likely to be in its immediate neighbourhood after the haywas carried, so that there might have been nothing to attract anyone to the near neighbourhood and thus lead to the discovery. Ifnot made by this time, Charles would be far away, and there wasnothing to connect him with the deed. No one save herself had evenknown of his having been near the castle that morning. How strangethat the only persons aware of that terrible secret should be so farseparated from one another that they could exchange no confidences;and each was compelled to absolute silence. For as long as no oneelse was suspected, Anne felt her part must be not to betrayCharles, though the bare possibility of the accusation of anotherwas agony to her. 

She wrote her condolences in due form to Fareham, and in due timewas answered by Lucy Archfield. The letter was full of detailsabout the infant, who seemed to absorb her and her mother, and to beas likely to live as any child of those days ever was--and it was inhis favour that his grandmother and her old nurse had better notionsof management than most of her contemporaries. In spite of all thatLucy said of her brother's overwhelming grief, and the melancholy ofthus parting with him, there was a strain of cheerfulness throughoutthe letter, betraying that the poor young wife of less than a yearwas no very great loss to the peace and comfort of the family. Theletter ended with--

There is a report that Sir Peregrine Oakshott is dead in Muscovy. Nothing has been heard of that unfortunate young man at Oakwood. If he be gone in quest of his uncle, I wonder what will become ofhim? However, nurse will have it that this being the thirdseventh year of his life, the fairies have carried off theirchangeling--you remember how she told us the story of his beingchanged as an infant, when we were children at Winchester; shebelieves it as much as ever, and never let little Philip out ofher sight before he was baptized. I ask her, if the changelingbe gone, where is the true Peregrine? but she only wags her headin answer. 

A day or two later Anne heard from her uncle from Oxford. He wasextremely grieved at the condition of his beloved alma mater, with aRoman Catholic Master reigning at University College, a doctor fromthe Sorbonne and Fellows to match, inflicted by military force onMagdalen, whose lawful children had been ejected with a violencebeyond anything that the colleges had suffered even in the time ofthe Rebellion. If things went on as they were, he pronounced Oxfordwould be no better than a Popish seminary: and he had the morereadily induced his old friend to consent to Charles's desire not toremain there as a student, but to go abroad with Mr. Fellowes, oneof the expelled fellows of Magdalen, a clergyman of mature age, buta man of the world, who had already acted as a travelling tutor. Considering that the young widower was not yet twenty, and that allhis wife's wealth would be in his hands, also that his cousin Sedleyformed a dangerous link with the questionable diversions of thegarrison at Portsmouth, both father and friend felt that it was wellthat he should be out of reach, and have other occupations for thepresent. 

Change of scene had, Dr. Woodford said, brightened the poor youth, and he was showing more interest in passing events, but probably hewould never again be the light-hearted boy they used to know. 

Anne could well believe it. 

CHAPTER XVI: A ROYAL NURSERY

"The duty that I owe unto your MajestyI seal upon the lips of this sweet babe. "

King Richard III. 

It was not till the Queen had moved from St. James's, where her sonhad been born, to take up her abode at Whitehall, that LadyOglethorpe was considered to be disinfected from her children'swhooping-cough, and could conduct Mistress Anne Jacobina Woodford toher new situation. 

Anne remembered the place from times past, as she followed the ladyup the broad stairs to the state rooms, where the child was dailycarried for inspection by the nation to whom, it was assumed, he wasso welcome, but who, on the contrary, regarded him with the utmostdislike and suspicion. 

Whitehall was, in those days, free to all the world, and thoughsentries in the Life-guards' uniform with huge grenadier caps wereposted here and there, every one walked up and down. Members ofParliament and fine gentlemen in embroidered coats and flowing wigscame to exchange news; country cousins came to stare and wonder, some to admire, some to whisper their disbelief in the Prince'sidentity; clergy in gown, cassock, and bands came to win what theycould in a losing cause; and one or two other clergy, who werelooked at askance, whose dress had a foreign air, and whose tonsurecould be detected as they threaded their way with quick, glidingsteps to the King's closet. 

Lady Oglethorpe, as one to the manner born, made her way through themidst of this throng in the magnificent gallery, and Anne followedher closely, conscious of words of admiration and inquiries who shewas. Into the Prince's presence chamber, in fact his day-nursery, they came, and a sweet and gentle-looking lady met them, andembraced Lady Oglethorpe, who made known Mistress Woodford to LadyStrickland, of Sizergh, the second governess, as the fourth rockerwho had been appointed. 

"You are welcome, Miss Woodford, " said the lady, looking at Anne'shigh, handsome head and well-bred action in courtesying, with ashade of surprise. "You are young, but I trust you are discreet. There is much need thereof. "

Following to a kind of alcove, raised by a step or two, Anne foundherself before a half-circle of ladies and gentlemen round a chairof state, in front of which stood a nurse, with an infant in herarms, holding him to be caressed and inspected by the lady on thethrone. Her beautiful soft dark eyes and hair, and an ivorycomplexion, with her dignified and graceful bearing, her long, slender throat and exquisite figure, were not so much concealed asenhanced by the simple mob cap and 'night-gown, ' as it was then thefashion to call a morning wrapper, which she wore, and Anne's firstimpression was that no wonder Peregrine raved about her. PoorPeregrine! that very thought came like a stab, as, after courtesyinglow, she stood at the end of the long room--silent, and observing. 

A few gentlemen waited by the opposite door, but not coming far intothe apartment, and Lady Oglethorpe was announced by one of them. The space was so great that Anne could not hear the words, and sheonly saw the gracious smile and greeting as Lady Oglethorpe kneltand kissed the Queen's hand. After a long conversation between themothers, during which Lady Oglethorpe was accommodated with acushion, Anne was beckoned forward, and was named to the Queen, whohonoured her with an inclination of the head and a few low murmuredwords. 

Then there was an announcement of 'His Majesty, ' and Anne, followingthe general example of standing back with low obeisances, beheld thetall active figure and dark heavy countenance of her Royalgodfather, under his great black, heavily-curled wig. He returnedLady Oglethorpe's greeting, and his face lighted up with a pleasantsmile that greatly changed the expression as he took his child intohis arms for a few moments; but the little one began to cry, whereupon he was carried off, and the King began to consult LadyOglethorpe upon the water-gruel on which the poor little Prince wasbeing reared, and of which she emphatically disapproved. 

Before he left the room, however, Lady Oglethorpe took care topresent to him his god-daughter, Mistress Anne Jacobina Woodford, and very low was the girl's obeisance before him, but with far morefright and shyness than before the sweet-faced Queen. 

"Oh ay!" he said, "I remember honest Will Woodford. He did goodservice at Southwold. I wish he had left a son like him. Have youa brother, young mistress?"

"No, please your Majesty, I am an only child. "

"More's the pity, " he said kindly, and with a smile brightening hisheavy features. "'Tis too good a breed to die out. You areCatholic?"

"I am bred in the English Church, so please your Majesty. "

His Majesty was evidently less pleased than before, but he onlysaid, "Ha! and my godchild! We must amend that, " and waved heraside. 

The royal interview over, the newcomer was presented to the StateGoverness, the Countess of Powys, a fair and gracious matron, whowas, however, almost as far removed from her as the Queen. Then shewas called on to take a solemn oath before the Master of theHousehold, of dutiful loyalty to the Prince. 

Mrs. Labadie was head nurse as well as being wife to the King'sFrench valet. She was a kindly, portly Englishwoman, who seemedwrapped up in her charge, and she greeted her new subordinate in afriendly way, which, however, seemed strange in one who at homewould have been of an inferior degree, expressed hopes of hersteadiness and discretion, and called to Miss Dunord to show MissWoodford her chamber. The abbreviation Miss sounded familiar andunsuitable, but it had just come into use for younger spinsters, though officially they were still termed Mistress. 

Mistress or Miss Dunord was sallow and gray-eyed, somewhat olderthan Anne, and looking thoroughly French, though her English wasperfect. She was entirely dressed in blue and white, and had arosary and cross at her girdle. "This way, " she said, tripping up asteep wooden stair. "We sleep above. 'Tis a huge, awkward place. Her Majesty calls it the biggest and most uncomfortable palace sheever was in. "

Opening a heavy door, she showed a room of considerable size, hungwith faded frayed tapestry, and containing two huge bedsteads, withfour heavy posts, and canopies of wood, as near boxes as could wellbe. Privacy was a luxury not ordinarily coveted, and thearrangement did not surprise Anne, though she could have wished thaton that summer day curtains and tapestry had been less fusty. Twoyoung women were busy over a dress spread on one of the beds, andwith French ease and grace the guide said, "Here is our newcolleague, Miss Jacobina Woodford. Let me present Miss HesterBridgeman and Miss Jane Humphreys. "

"Miss Woodford is welcome, " said Miss Bridgeman, a keen, brown, lively, somewhat anxious-looking person, courtesying and holding outher hand, and her example was followed by Jane Humphreys, a stout, rosy, commonplace girl. 

"Oh! I am glad, " this last cried. "Now I shall have a bedfellow. "

This Anne was the less sorry for, as she saw that the bed of theother two was furnished with a holy water stoup and a little shrinewith a waxen Madonna. There was only one looking-glass among thefour, and not much apparatus either for washing or the toilet, butMiss Bridgeman believed that they would soon go to Richmond, wherethings would be more comfortable. Then she turned to consult MissDunord on her endeavour to improve the trimmings of a dress of MissHumphreys. 

"Yes, I know you are always in Our Lady's colours, Pauline, but youhave a pretty taste, and can convince Jane that rose colour andscarlet cannot go together. "

"My father chose the ribbons, " said Jane, as if that wereunanswerable. 

"City taste, " said Miss Bridgeman. 

"They are pretty, very pretty with anything else, " observed Pauline, with more tact. "See, now, with your white embroidered petticoatand the gray train they are ravishing--and the scarlet coat willenliven the black. "

There was further a little murmur about what a Mr. Hopkins admired, but it was lost in the arrival of Miss Woodford's mails. 

They clustered round, as eager as a set of schoolgirls, over Anne'sdresses. Happily even the extreme of fashion had not then becomeungraceful. 

"Her Majesty will not have the loose drapery that folks used towear, " said Hester Bridgeman. 

"No, " said Pauline; "it was all very well for those who coulddispose it with an artless negligence, but for some I could name, itwas as though they had tumbled it on with a hay-fork and had theirhair tousled by being tickled in the hay. "

"Now we have the tight bodice with plenty of muslin and lace, thegown open below to show the petticoat, " said Hester; "and to my mindit is more decorous. "

"Decorum was not the vogue then, " laughed Pauline, "perhaps it willbe now. Oh, what lovely lace! real Flanders, on my word! Where didyou get it, Miss Woodford?"

"It was my mother's. "

"And this? Why, 'tis old French point, you should hang it to yoursleeves. "

"My Lady Archfield gave it to me in case I should need it. "

"Ah! I see you have good friends and are a person of somecondition, " put in Hester Bridgeman. "I shall be happy to consortwith you. Let us--"

Anne courtesied, and at the moment a bell was heard, Pauline at oncecrossed herself and fell on her knees before the small shrine with afigure of the Blessed Virgin, and Hester, breaking off her words, followed her example; but Jane Humphreys stood twisting the cornerof her apron. 

In a very short time, almost before Anne had recovered from herbewilderment, the other two were up and chattering again. 

"You are not a Catholic?" demanded Miss Bridgeman. 

"I was bred in the Church, " said Anne. 

"And you the King's godchild!" exclaimed Pauline. "But we shallsoon amend that and make a convert of you like Miss Bridgemanthere. "

Anne shook her head, but was glad to ask, "And what means the bellthat is ringing now?"

"That is the supper bell. It rings just after the Angelus, " saidHester. "No, it is not ours. The great folks, Lady Powys, LadyStrickland, and the rest sup first. We have the dishes after them, with Nurses Labadie and Royer and the rest--no bad ones either. They are allowed five dishes and two bottles of wine apiece, andthey always leave plenty for us, and it is served hot too. "

The preparations for going down to the second table now absorbed theparty. 

As Hester said, the fare at this second table was not to bedespised. It was a formal meal shared with the two nurses and thetwo pages of the backstairs. Not the lads usually associated withthe term, but men of mature age, and of gentle, though not noble, birth and breeding; and there were likewise the attendants of theKing and Queen of the same grade, such as Mr. Labadie, the King'svalet, some English, but besides these, Dusian, the Queen's Frenchpage, and Signer and Signora Turini, who had come with her fromModena, Pere Giverlai, her confessor, and another priest. PereGiverlai said grace, and the conversation went on briskly betweenthe elders, the younger ones being supposed to hold their peace. 

Their dishes went in reversion to the inferior class of servants, laundress, sempstress, chambermaids, and the like, who had much moreliberty than their betters, and not such a lack of occupation asAnne soon perceived that she should suffer from. 

There was, however, a great muster of all the Prince'sestablishment, who stood round, as many as could, with littlegarments in their hands, while he was solemnly undressed and laid inhis richly inlaid and carved cradle--over which Pere Giverlaipronounced a Latin benediction. 

The nursery establishment was then released, except one of thenurses, who was to sleep or wake on a couch by his side, and one ofthe rockers. These damsels had, two at a time, to divide the nightbetween them, one being always at hand to keep the food warm, touchthe rocker at need with her foot, or call up the nurse on duty ifthe child awoke, but not presume herself to handle his little RoyalHighness. 

It was the night when Mistresses Dunord and Bridgeman were due, andAnne followed Jane Humphreys to her room, asking a little about theduties of the morrow. 

"We must be dressed before seven, " said the girl. "One of us willbe left on duty while the others go to Mass. I am glad you are aProtestant, Miss Woodford, for the Catholics put everything on methat they can. "

"We must do our best to help and strengthen each other, " said Anne. 

"It is very hard, " said Jane; "and the priests are always at me! Iwould change as Hester Bridgeman has done, but that I know it wouldbreak my grand-dame's heart. My father might not care so much, if Igot advancement, but I believe it would kill my grandmother. "

"Advancement! oh, but faith comes first, " exclaimed Anne, recallingthe warning. 

"Hester says one religion is as good as another to get to Heavenby, " murmured Jane. 

"Not if we deny our own for the world's sake, " said Anne. "Is thechapel here a Popish one?"

"No; the Queen has an Oratory, but the Popish chapel is at St. James's--across the Park. The Protestant one is here at Whitehall, and there are daily prayers at nine o'clock, and on Sunday musicwith three fiddlers, and my grandmother says it might almost as wellbe Popish at once. "

"Did your grandmother bring you up?"

"Yes. My mother died when I was seven years old, and my grandmotherbred us all up. You should hear her talk of the good old timesbefore the Kings came back and there were no Bishops and no bookprayers--but my father says we must swim with the stream, or hewould not have got any custom at his coffee-house. "

"Is that his calling?"

"Ay! No one has a better set of guests than in the Golden Lamb. The place is full. The great Dr. Hammond sees his patients there, and it is all one buzz of the wits. It was because of that that myLord Sunderland made interest, and got me here. How did you come?"

Anne briefly explained, and Jane broke out--

"Then you will be my friend, and we will tell each other all oursecrets. You are a Protestant too. You will be mine, and notBridgeman's or Dunord's--I hate them. "

In point of fact Anne did not feel much attracted by the proffer offriendship, and she certainly did not intend to tell Jane Humphreysall her secrets, nor to vow enmity to the other colleagues, but shegravely answered that she trusted they would be friends and help tomaintain one another's faith. She was relieved that Miss Bridgemanhere came in to take her first turn of rest till she was to becalled up at one o'clock. 

As Jane Humphreys had predicted, Mrs. Royer and Anne alone were leftin charge of the nursling while every one went to morning Mass. Then followed breakfast and the levee of his Royal Highness, lastingas on the previous day till dinner-time; and the afternoon was asbefore, except that the day was fine enough for the child to becarried out with all his attendants behind him to take the air inthe private gardens. 

If this was to be the whole course of life at the palace, Anne beganto feel that she had made a great mistake. She was by no meansattracted by her companions, though Miss Bridgeman decided that shemust know persons of condition, and made overtures of friendship, tobe sealed by calling one another Oriana and Portia. She did notapprove of such common names as Princess Anne and Lady Churchillused--Mrs. Morley and Mrs. Freeman! They must have something betterthan what was used by the Cockpit folks, and she was sure that herdear Portia would soon be of the only true faith. 

CHAPTER XVII: MACHINATIONS

"Baby born to woe. "

F. T. PALGRAVE. 

When Anne Woodford began to wake from the constant thought of thegrief and horror she had left at Portchester, and to feel more aliveto her surroundings and less as if they were a kind of dream, inwhich she only mechanically took her part, one thing impresseditself on her gradually, and that was disappointment. If theprevious shock had not blunted all her hopes and aspirations, perhaps she would have felt it sooner and more keenly; but she couldnot help realising that she had put herself into an inferiorposition whence there did not seem to be the promotion she had onceanticipated. Her companion rockers were of an inferior grade toherself. Jane Humphreys was a harmless but silly girl, not muchwiser, though less spoilt, than poor little Madam, and full ofCockney vulgarities. Education was unfashionable just then, andthough Hester Bridgeman was bettor born and bred, being the daughterof an attorney in the city, she was not much better instructed, andhad no pursuits except that of her own advantage. Pauline Dunordwas by far the best of the three, but she seemed to live a lifeapart, taking very little interest in her companions or anythingaround her except her devotions and the bringing them over to herChurch. The nursery was quite a separate establishment; there wasno mingling with the guests of royalty, who were only seen inexcited peeps from the window, or when solemnly introduced to thepresence chamber to pay their respects to the Prince. As to books, the only secular one that Anne saw while at Whitehall was an oddvolume of Parthenissa. The late King's summary of the Romancontroversy was to be had in plenty, and nothing was more evidentthan that the only road to favour or promotion was in being therebyconvinced. 

"Don't throw it down as if it were a hot chestnut, " said her Oriana. "That's what they all do at first, but they come to it at last. "

Anne made no answer, but a pang smote her as she thought of heruncle's warnings. Yet surely she might hope for other modes ofprospering, she who was certainly by far the best looking and besteducated of all the four, not that this served her much in herpresent company, and those of higher rank did not notice her at all. Princess Anne would surely recollect her, and then she might be safein a Protestant household, where her uncle would be happy about her. 

The Princess had been at Bath when first she arrived, but at the endof a week preparations were made at the Cockpit, a sort of appendageto Whitehall, where the Prince and Princess of Denmark lived, and indue time there was a visit to the nursery. Standing in fullceremony behind Lady Powys, Anne saw the plump face and form sherecollected in the florid bloom of a young matron, not without acertain royal dignity in the pose of the head, though in grace andbeauty far surpassed by the tall, elegant figure and face of LadyChurchill, whose bright blue eyes seemed to be taking in everythingeverywhere. Anne's heart began to beat high at the sight of a oncefamiliar face, and with hopes of a really kind word from one who asan elder girl had made much of the pretty little plaything. ThePrincess Anne's countenance was, however, less good-natured thanusual; her mouth was made up to a sullen expression, and when herbrother was shown to her she did not hold out her arms to him norvouchsafe a kiss. 

The Queen looked at her wistfully, asking--

"Is he not like the King?"

"Humph!" returned Princess Anne, "I see no likeness to any livingsoul of our family. "

"Nay, but see his little nails, " said the Queen, spreading the tinyhand over her finger. "See how like your father's they are framed!My treasure, you can clasp me!"

"My brother, Edgar! He was the beauty, " said the Princess. "_He_was exactly like my father; but there's no judging of anything sopuny as this!"

"He was very suffering last week, the poor little angel, " said themother sadly; "but they say this water-gruel is very nourishing, andnot so heavy as milk. "

"It does not look as if it agreed with him, " said the Princess. "Poor little mammet! Did I hear that you had the little Woodfordhere? Is that you, girl?"

Anne courtesied herself forward. 

"Ay, I remember you. I never forget a face, and you have grown upfair enough. Where's your mother?"

"I lost her last February, so please your Royal Highness. "

"Oh! She was a good woman. Why did she not send you to me? Well, well! Come to my toilette to-morrow. "

So Princess Anne swept away in her rich blue brocade. Her behestwas obeyed, of course, though it was evidently displeasing to thenursery authorities, and Lady Strickland gave a warning to bediscreet and to avoid gossip with the Cockpit folks. 

Anne could not but be excited. Perhaps the Princess would ask forher, and take her into the number of her own attendants, where shewould no longer be in a Romish household, and would certainly be ina higher position. Why, she remembered that very Lady Churchill asSarah Jennings in no better a position than she could justly aspireto. Her coming to Court would thus be truly justified. 

The Princess sat in a silken wrapper, called a night-gown, in herchamber, which had a richly-curtained bed in the alcove, and atoilet-table with a splendid Venetian mirror, and a good deal ofsilver sparkling on it, while a strange mixture of perfumes camefrom the various boxes and bottles. Ladies and tirewomen stood inattendance; a little black boy in a turban and gold-embroidereddress held a salver with her chocolate cup; a cockatoo soliloquisedin low whispers in the window; a monkey was chained to a pole at asafe distance from him; a French friseur was manipulating thePrincess's profuse brown hair with his tongs; and a needy-looking, pale thin man, in a semi-clerical suit, was half-reading, half-declaiming a poem, in which 'Fair Anna' seemed mixed up with Juno, Ceres, and other classical folk, but to which she was evidentlypaying very little attention. 

"Ah! there you are, little one. Thank you, Master--what's name;that is enough. 'Tis a fine poem, but I never can remember which iswhich of all your gods and goddesses. Oh yes, I accept thededication. Give him a couple of guineas, Ellis; it will serve himfor board and lodging for a fortnight, poor wretch!" Then, aftergiving a smooth, well-shaped white hand to be kissed, and invitingher visitor to a cushion at her feet, she began a long series ofquestions, kindly ones at first, though of the minute gossipingkind, and extending to the Archfields, for poor young Madam had beenof the rank about which royalty knew everything in those days. Theinquiries were extremely minute, and the comments what from any oneelse, Anne would have thought vulgar, especially in the presence ofthe hairdresser, but her namesake observed her blush and hesitation, and said, "Oh, never mind a creature like that. He is French, besides, and does not understand a word we say. "

Anne, looking over the Princess's head, feared that she saw atwinkle in the man's eye, and could only look down and try to ignorehim through the catechism that ensued, on when she came toWhitehall, on the Prince of Wales's health, the management of him, and all the circumstances connected with his birth. 

Very glad was Anne that she knew nothing, and had not picked up anyinformation as to what had happened before she came to the palace. As to the present, Lady Strickland's warning and her own sense ofhonour kept her reticent to a degree that evidently vexed thePrincess, for she dropped her caressing manner, and sent her awaywith a not very kind, "You may go now; you will be turning Papistnext, and what would your poor mother say?"

And as Anne departed in backward fashion she heard Lady Churchillsay, "You will make nothing of her. She is sharper than sheaffects, and a proud minx! I see it in her carriage. "

The visit had only dashed a few hopes and done her harm with herimmediate surroundings, who always disliked and distrustedintercourse with the other establishment. 

However, in another day the nursery was moved to Richmond. This wasa welcome move to Anne, who had spent her early childhood nearenough to be sometimes taken thither, and to know the Park well, sothat there was a home feeling in the sight of the outline of thetrees and the scenery of the neighbourhood. The Queen intendedgoing to Bath, so that the establishment was only that of thePrince, and the life was much quieter on the whole; but there was nogratifying any yearning for country walks, for it was not safe norperhaps decorous for one young woman to be out alone in a park opento the public and haunted by soldiers from Hounslow--nor couldeither of her fellow-rockers understand her preference for asecluded path through the woods. Miss Dunord never went out at all, except on duty, when the Prince was carried along the walks in thegarden, and the other two infinitely preferred the open spaces, where tables were set under the horse-chestnut trees for parties whoboated down from London to eat curds and whey, sometimes bringing afiddler so as to dance under the trees. 

Jane Humphreys especially was always looking out for acquaintances, and once, with a cry of joy, a stout, homely-looking young womanstarted up, exclaiming, "Sister Jane!" and flew into her arms. Uponwhich Miss Woodford was introduced to 'My sister Coles' and herhusband, and had to sit down under a tree and share the festivities, while there was an overflow of inquiries and intelligence, domesticand otherwise. Certainly these were persons whom she would not havetreated as equals at home. 

Besides, it was all very well to hear of the good old grandmother'srheumatics, and of little Tommy's teething, and even to see Janehang her head and be teased about remembering Mr. Hopkins; nor wasit wonderful to hear lamentations over the extreme dulness of thelife where one never saw a creature to speak to who was not as oldas the hills; but when it came to inquiries as minute as thePrincess's about the Prince of Wales, Anne thought the full detailslavishly poured out scarcely consistent with loyalty to their oathsof service and Lady Strickland's warning, and she told Jane so. 

She was answered, "Oh la! what harm can it do? You are such a proudpeat! Grand-dame and sister like to know all about His RoyalHighness. "

This was true; but Anne was far more uncomfortable two or three dayslater. The Prince was ailing, so much so that Lady Powys had sentan express for the Queen, who had not yet started for Bath, whenAnne and Jane, being relieved from duty by the other pair, went outfor a stroll. 

"Oh la!" presently exclaimed Jane, "if that is not Colonel Sands, the Princess's equerry. I do declare he is coming to speak to us, though he is one of the Cockpit folks. "

He was a very fine gentleman indeed, all scarlet and gold, and nowonder Jane was flattered and startled, so that she jerked her fanviolently up and down as he accosted her with a wave of his cockedhat, saying that he was rejoiced to meet these two fair ladies, having been sent by the Princess of Denmark to inquire for thehealth of the Prince. She was very anxious to know more than couldbe learnt by formal inquiry, he said, and he was happy to have metthe young gentlewomen who could gratify him. 

The term 'gentlewoman' highly flattered Miss Humphreys, who blushedand bridled, and exclaimed, "Oh la, sir!" but Anne thought itneedful to say gravely--

"We are in trust, sir, and have no right to speak of what passeswithin the royal household. "

"Madam, I admire your discretion, but to the--(a-hem)--sister ofthe--(a-hem)--Prince of Wales it is surely uncalled for. "

"Miss Woodford is so precise, " said Jane Humphreys, with a giggle;"I do not know what harm can come of saying that His Royal Highnesspeaks and pines just as he did before. "

"He is none the better for country air then?"

"Oh no? except that he cries louder. Such a time as we had lastnight! Mrs. Royer never slept a wink all the time I was there, butwalked about with him all night. You had the best of it, MissWoodford. "

"He slept while I was there, " said Anne briefly, not thinking itneedful to state that the tired nurse had handed the child over toher, and that he had fallen asleep in her arms. She tried to put anend to the conversation by going indoors, but she was vexed to findthat, instead of following her closely, Miss Humphreys was stilllingering with the equerry. 

Anne found the household in commotion. Pauline met her, weepingbitterly, and saying the Prince had had a fit, and all hope wasover, and in the rockers' room, she found Hester Bridgemanexclaiming that her occupation was gone. Water-gruel, she had nodoubt, had been the death of the Prince. The Queen was come, andwellnigh distracted. She had sent out in quest of a wet-nurse, butit was too late; he was going the way of all Her Majesty's children. 

Going down again together the two girls presently had to stand asideas the poor Queen, seeing and hearing nothing, came towards her ownroom with her handkerchief over her face. They pressed each other'shands awe-stricken, and went on to the nursery. There Mrs. Labadiewas kneeling over the cradle, her hood hanging over her face, cryingbitterly over the poor little child, who had a blue look about hisface, and seemed at the last gasp, his features contorted by aconvulsion. 

At that moment Jane Humphreys was seen gently opening the door andletting in Colonel Sands, who moved as quietly as possible, to givea furtive look at the dying child. His researches were cut short, however. Lady Strickland, usually the gentlest of women, darted outand demanded what he was doing in her nursery. 

He attempted to stammer some excuse about Princess Anne, but LadyStrickland only answered by standing pointing to the door and he wasforced to retreat in a very undignified fashion. 

"Who brought him?" she demanded, when the door was shut. "ThoseCockpit folk are not to come prying here, hap what may!"

Miss Humphreys had sped away for fear of questions being asked, andattention was diverted by Mrs. Royer arriving with a stout, healthy-looking young woman in a thick home-spun cloth petticoat, nostockings, and old shoes, but with a clean white cap on her head--atilemaker's wife who had been captured in the village. 

No sooner was the suffering, half-starved child delivered over toher than he became serene and contented. The water-gruel regime wasover, and he began to thrive from that time. Even when later in theafternoon the King himself brought in Colonel Sands, whom in the joyof his heart he had asked to dine with him, the babe lay tranquillyon the cradle, waving his little hands and looking happy. 

The intrusion seemed to have been forgotten, but that afternoonAnne, who had been sent on a message to one of the Queen's ladies, more than suspected that she saw Jane in a deep recess of a windowin confabulation with the Colonel. And when they were alone at bed-time the girl said--

"Is it not droll? The Colonel cannot believe that 'tis the samechild. He has been joking and teasing me to declare that we have adead Prince hidden somewhere, and that the King showed him thebrick-bat woman's child. "

"How can you prattle in that mischievous way--after what LadyStrickland said, too? You do not know what harm you may do!"

"Oh lack, it was all a jest!"

"I am not so sure that it was. "

"But you will not tell of me, dear friend, you will not. I neversaw Lady Strickland like that; I did not know she could be in such arage. "

"No wonder, when a fellow like that came peeping and prying like araven to see whether the poor babe was still breathing, " cried Anneindignantly. "How could you bring him in?"

"Fellow indeed! Why he is a colonel in the Life-guards, and thePrincess's equerry; and who has a right to know about the child ifnot his own sister--or half-sister?"

"She is not a very loving sister, " replied Anne. "You know well, Jane, how many would not be sorry to make out that it is as that manwould fain have you say. "

"Well, I told him it was no such thing, and laughed the very notionto scorn. "

"It were better not to talk with him at all. "

"But you will not speak of it. If I were turned away my fatherwould beat me. Nay, I know not what he might not do to me. Youwill not tell, dear darling Portia, and I will love you for ever. "

"I have no call to tell, " said Anne coldly, but she was disgustedand weary, and moreover not at all sure that she, as the otherProtestant rocker, and having been in the Park on that same day, wasnot credited with some of the mischievous gossip that had passed. 

"There, Portia, that is what you get by walking with that stupidHumphreys, " said Oriana. "She knows no better than to blab to anyone who will be at the trouble to seem sweet upon her, though shemay get nothing by it. "

"Would it be better if she did?" asked Anne. 

"Oh well, we must all look out for ourselves, and I am sure there isno knowing what may come next. But I hear we are to move to Windsoras soon as the child is strong enough, so as to be farther out ofreach of the Cockpit tongues. "

This proved to be true, but the Prince and his suite were not lodgedin the Castle itself, a house in the cloisters being thought moresuitable, and here the Queen visited her child daily, for since thatlast alarm she could not bear to be long absent from him. Suchemissaries as Colonel Sands did not again appear, but after thatprecedent Lady Strickland had become much more unwilling to allowany of those under her authority to go out into any public place, and the rockers seldom got any exercise except as swelling thePrince's train when he was carried out to take the air. 

Anne looked with longing eyes at the Park, but a ramble there was aforbidden pleasure. She could not always even obtain leave toattend St. George's Chapel; the wish was treated as a sort ofweakness, or folly, and she was always the person selected to stayat home when any religious ceremony called away the rest of theestablishment. 

As the King's god-daughter it was impressed on her that she ought toconform to his Church, and one of the many priests about the Courtwas appointed to instruct her. In the dearth of all intellectualintercourse, and the absolute deficiency of books, she could not butbecome deeply interested in the arguments. Her uncle had forearmedher with instruction, and she wrote to him on any difficulty whicharose, and this became the chief occupation of her mind, distractingher thoughts from the one great cloud that hung over her memory. Indeed one of the foremost bulwarks her feelings erected to fortifyher conscience against the temptations around, was the knowledgethat she would have, though of course under seal of confession, torelate that terrible story to a priest. 

Hester Bridgeman could not imagine how her Portia could endure tohear the old English Prayer-book droned out. For her part, sheliked one thing or the other, either a rousing Nonconformist sermonin a meeting-house or a splendid Mass. 

"But, after all, " as Anne overheard her observing to Miss Dunord, "it may be all the better for us. What with her breeding and herforeign tongues, she would be sure to be set over our heads asunder-governess, or the like, if she were not such an obstinateheretic, and keeping that stupid Humphreys so. We could haveconverted her long ago, if it were not for that Woodford and for herCity grand-dame! Portia is the King's godchild, too, so it is justas well that she does not see what is for her own advantage. "

"I do not care for promotion. I only want to save my own soul andhers, " said Pauline. "I wish she would come over to the trueChurch, for I could love her. "

And certainly Pauline Dunord's gentle devotional example, and herperfect rest and peace in the practice of her religion, were stronginfluences with Anne. She was waiting till circumstances shouldmake it possible to her to enter a convent, and in the meantime shelived a strictly devout life, abstracted as far as duty and kindnesspermitted from the little cabals and gossipry around. 

Anne could not help feeling that the girl was as nearly a saint asany one she had ever seen--far beyond herself in goodness. Moreover, the Queen inspired strong affection. Mary Beatrice wasnot only a very beautiful person, full of the grace and dignity ofthe House of Este, but she was deeply religious, good and gentle, kindly and gracious to all who approached her, and devoted to herhusband and child. A word or look from her was always a delight, and Anne, by her knowledge of Italian, was able sometimes to obtaina smiling word or remark. 

The little Prince, after those first miserable weeks of his life, had begun to thrive, and by and by manifested a decided preferencenot only for his beautiful mother, but for the fresh face, brightsmile, and shining brown eyes of Miss Woodford. She could almostalways, with nods and becks, avert a passion of roaring, whichsometimes went beyond the powers of even his foster-mother, thetiler's wife. The Queen watched with delight when he laughed andflourished his arms in response, and the King was summoned to seethe performance, which he requited by taking out a fat gold watchset with pearls, and presenting it to Anne, as his grave gloomy facelighted up with a smile. 

"Are you yet one of us?" he asked, as she received his gift on herknee. 

"No, sir, I cannot--"

"That must be amended. You have read his late Majesty's paper?"

"I have, sir. "

"And seen Father Giverlai?"

"Yes, please your Majesty. "

"And still you are not convinced. That must not be. I would gladlyconsider and promote you, but I can only have true Catholics aroundmy son. I shall desire Father Crump to see you. "

CHAPTER XVIII: HALLOWMAS EVE

 "This more strangeThan such a murder is. "

Macbeth. 

"Bambino mio, bambino mio, " wailed Mary Beatrice, as she pressed herchild to her bosom, and murmured to him in her native tongue. "Anddid they say he was not his mother's son, his poor mother, whosedearest treasure he is! Oime, crudeli, crudelissimi! Even hissisters hate him and will not own him, the little jewel of hismother's heart!"

Anne, waiting in the window, was grieved to have overheard the wordswhich the poor Queen had poured out, evidently thinking no one nearcould understand her. 

That evening there were orders to prepare for a journey to Whitehallthe next morning. 

"And, " said Hester Bridgeman, "I can tell you why, in allconfidence, but I have it from a sure hand. The Prince of Orange iscollecting a fleet and army to come and inquire into certainmatters, especially into the birth of a certain young gentleman wewot of. "

"How can he have the insolence?" cried Anne. 

"'Tis no great wonder, considering the vipers in the Cockpit, " saidHester. 

"But what will they do to us?" asked Jane Humphreys in terror. 

"Nothing to you, my dear, nor to Portia; you are good Protestants, "said Hester with a sneer. 

"Mrs. Royer told me it was for the christening, " said Jane, "andthen we shall all have new suits. I am glad we are going back totown. It cannot be so mortal dull as 'tis here, with all the leavesfalling--enough to give one the vapours. "

There were auguries on either hand in the palace that if the Princecame it would be only another Monmouth affair, and this made Anneshrink, for she had partaken of the grief and indignation ofWinchester at the cruel execution of Lady Lisle, and had heardrumours enough of the progress of the Assize to make her start inhorror when called to watch the red-faced Lord Chancellor Jeffreysgetting out of his coach. 

It really seemed for the time as if the royal household wereconfident in this impression, though as soon as they were againsettled in Whitehall there was a very close examination of thewitnesses of the Prince's birth, and a report printed of theirevidence, enough it might be thought to satisfy any one; but JaneHumphreys, who went to spend a day at the Golden Lamb, her father'swarehouse, reported that people only laughed at it. 

Anne's spirit burned at the injustice, and warmed the more towardsthe Queen and little Prince, whose pretty responses to her caressescould not but win her love. Moreover, Pauline's example continuedto attract her, and Father Crump was a better controversialist, orperhaps a better judge of character, than Pere Giverlai, and tookher on sides where she was more vulnerable, so as to make her beginto feel unsettled, and wonder whether she were not making a vainsacrifice, and holding out after all against the better way. 

The sense of the possible gain, and disgust at the shallowconversions of some around her, helped to keep her back. She couldnot help observing that while Pauline persuaded, Hester had ceasedto persuade, and seemed rather willing to hinder her. Just beforethe State christening or rather admission into the Church, LadyPowys, in the name of the King and Queen, offered her the post ofsub-governess, which really would mean for the present chiefplayfellow to the little Prince, and would place her on an entirelydifferent platform of society from the comparatively menial one sheoccupied, but of course on the condition of conformity to Rome. 

To be above the familiarity of Jane and Hester was no smalltemptation, but still she hesitated. 

"Madam, I thank you, I thank their Majesties, " she said, "but Icannot do it thus. "

"I see what you mean, Miss Woodford, " said Lady Powys, who was atruly noble woman. "Your motives must be above suspicion even toyourself. I respect you, and would not have made you the offerexcept by express command, but I still trust that when yourdisinterestedness is above suspicion you will still join us. "

It was sore mortification when Hester Bridgeman was preferred to theoffice, for which she was far less fitted, being no favourite withthe babe, and being essentially vulgar in tastes and habits, andknowing no language save her own, and that ungrammatically and withan accent which no one could wish the Prince to acquire. Yet thereshe was, promoted to the higher grade of the establishment and atthe christening, standing in the front ranks, while Miss Woodfordwas left far in the rear among the servants. 

A report of the Dutch fleet having been destroyed by a storm hadrestored the spirits of the Court; and in the nursery very littlewas known of the feelings of the kingdom at large. Dr. Woodford didnot venture on writing freely to his niece, lest he shouldcompromise her, and she only vaguely detected that he was uneasy. 

So came All Saints' Day Eve, when there was to be a special servicelate in the evening at the Romanised Chapel Royal at St. James's, with a sermon by a distinguished Dominican, to which all the elderand graver members of the household were eager to go. And there wasanother very different attraction at the Cockpit, where good-naturedPrincess Anne had given permission for a supper, to be followed byburning of nuts and all the divinations proper to Hallowmas Eve, towhich were invited all the subordinates of the Whitehallestablishment who could be spared. 

Pauline Dunord was as eager for the sermon as Jane Humphreys was forthe supper, and Hester Bridgeman was in an odd mood of uncertainty, evidently longing after the sports, but not daring to show that shedid so, and trying to show great desire to hear the holy man preach, together with a polite profession of self-denial in giving up herplace in case there should not be room for all. However, as itappeared that even the two chief nurses meant to combine sermon andthe latter end of the supper, she was at ease. The foster-motherand one of the Protestant rockers were supposed to be enough towatch over the Prince, but the former, who had been much petted andspoilt since she had been at the palace, and was a young creature, untrained and wilful, cried so much at the idea of missing themerrymaking, that as it was reckoned important to keep her in goodhumour and good spirits, Mrs. Labadie decided on winking at herabsence from the nursery, since Miss Woodford was quite competent tothe charge for the short time that both the church-goers and thesupper-goers would all be absent together. 

"But are you not afraid to stay alone?" asked Mrs. Labadie, with alittle compunction. 

"What is there to be afraid of?" asked Anne. "There are thesentinels at the foot of the stairs, and what should reach us here?"

"I would not be alone here, " said more than one voice. "Nor I!"--"Nor I!"

"And on this night of all others!" said Hester. 

"But why?"

"They say he walks!" whispered Jane in a voice of awe. 

"Who walks?"

"The old King?" asked Hester. 

"No; the last King, " said Jane. 

"No, no: it was Oliver Cromwell--old Noll himself!" put in anothervoice. 

"I tell you, no such thing, " said Jane. "It was the last King. Iheard it from them that saw it, at least the lady's cousin. 'Twasin the long gallery, in a suit of plain black velvet, with whitemuslin ruffles and cravat quilled very neat. Why do you laugh, MissWoodford?"

This was too much for Anne, who managed to say, "Who was hislaundress?"

"I tell you I heard it from them that told no lies. The gentlemancould swear to it. He took a candle to him, and there was noughtbut the wainscot behind. Think of that. "

"And that we should be living here!" said another voice. "I neverventure about the big draughty place alone at night, " said thelaundress. 

"No! nor I would not for twenty princes, " added the sempstress. 

"Nay, I have heard steps, " said Mrs. Royer, "and wailing--wailing. No wonder after all that has happened here. Oh yes, steps as of theguard being turned out!"

"That is like our Squire's manor-house, where--"

Every one contributed a story, and only the announcement of HerMajesty's approach put an end to these reminiscences. 

Anne held to her purpose. She had looked forward to this time ofsolitude, for she wanted leisure to consider the situation, andfairly to revolve the pleas by which Father Crump had shaken her, more in feeling than in her reason, and made her question whetherher allegiance to her mother and uncle, and her disgust atinterested conversions, were not making her turn aside from whatmight be the only true Church, the Mother of Saints, and therewithperversely give up earthly advancement. But, oh! how to write toher uncle. 

The very intention made her imagination and memory too powerful forthe consideration of controversy. She went back first to a merryHallowmas Eve long ago, among the Archfield party and otherWinchester friends, and how the nuts had bounced in a manner whichmade the young ones shout in ecstasy of glee, but seemed todisplease some of the elders, and had afterwards been the occasionof her being told that it was all folly, and therewith informed ofCharles Archfield's contract to poor little Alice Fitzhubert. Thencame other scenes. All the various ghostly tales she had heard, andas she sat with her knitting in the shaded room with no sound butthe soft breathing of her little charge in his cradle, no light savefrom a shaded lamp and the fire on the hearth, strange thoughts anddreams floated over her; she started at mysterious cracks in thewainscotting from time to time, and beheld in the dark corners ofthe great room forms that seemed grotesque and phantom-like till shewent up to them and resolved them into familiar bits of furniture orgowns and caps of Mrs. Labadie. She repeated half aloud numerousPsalms and bits of poetry, but in the midst would come somedisturbing noise, a step or a shout from the street, though thechamber being at the back of the house looking into the Park few ofsuch sounds penetrated thither. She began to think of KingCharles's last walk from St. James's to Whitehall, and of the fatalwindow of the Banqueting-hall which had been pointed out to her, andthen her thoughts flew back again to that vault in the castle yard, and she saw only too vividly in memory that open vault, veiledpartly by nettles and mulleins, which was the unblest, unknown graveof the old playfellow who had so loved her mother and herself. Perhaps she had hitherto more dwelt on and pitied the living thanthe dead, as one whom fears and prayers still concerned, but now asshe thought of the lively sprite-like being who had professed suchaffection for her, and for whom her mother had felt so much, andrecollected him so soon and suddenly cut down and consigned to thatdreary darkness, the strange yearning spirit dismissed to theunknown world, instead of her old terror and repulsion, a greattenderness and compunction came over her, and she longed to jointhose who would in two days more be keeping All Souls' Day inintercessions for their departed, so as to atone for her pastdislike; and there was that sort of feeling about her which can onlybe described by the word 'eerie. ' To relieve it Anne walked to thewindow and undid a small wicket in the shutter, so as to look outinto the quiet moonlight park where the trees cast their longshadows on the silvery grass, and there was a great calm that seemedto reach her heart and spirits. 

Suddenly, across the sward towards the palace there came the slight, impish, almost one-sided figure, with the peculiar walk, swiftthough suggestive of a limp, the elfish set of the plume, theforeign adjustment of short cloak. Anne gazed with wide-stretchedeyes and beating heart, trying to rally her senses and believe itfancy, when the figure crossed into a broad streak of light cast bythe lamp over the door, the face was upturned for a moment. It wasdeadly pale, and the features were beyond all doubt PeregrineOakshott's. 

She sprang back from the window, dropped on her knees, with her facehidden in her hands, and was hardly conscious till sounds of theothers returning made her rally her powers so as to prevent allinquiries or surmises. It was Mrs. Labadie and Pauline Dunord, theformer to see that all was well with the Prince before repairing tothe Cockpit. 

"How pale you are!" she exclaimed. "Have you seen anything?"

"I--It may be nothing. He is dead!" stammered Anne. 

"Oh then, 'tis naught but a maid's fancies, " said the nurse good-humouredly. "Miss Dunord is in no mind for the sports, so she willstay with His Highness, and you had best come with me and drive thecobwebs out of your brain. "

"Indeed, I thank you, ma'am, but I could not, " said Anne. 

"You had best, I tell you, shake these megrims out of your brain, "said Mrs. Labadie; but she was in too great haste not to lose hershare of the amusements to argue the point, and the two young womenwere left together. Pauline was in a somewhat exalted state, fullof the sermon on the connection of the Church with the invisibleworld. 

"You have seen one of your poor dead, " she said. "Oh, may it not bethat he came to implore you to have pity, and join the Church, whereyou could intercede and offer the Holy Sacrifice for him?"

Anne started. This seemed to chime in with proclivities of poorPeregrine's own, and when she thought of his corpse in thatunhallowed vault, it seemed to her as if he must be calling on herto take measures for his rest, both of body and of spirit. Yetsomething seemed to seal her tongue. She could not open her lips onwhat she had seen, and while Pauline talked on, repeating the sermonwhich had so deeply touched her feelings, Anne heard withoutlistening to aught besides her own perturbations, mentally debatingwhether she could endure to reveal the story to Father Crump, if sheconfessed to him, or whether she should write to her uncle; and sheeven began to compose the letter in her own mind, with the terriblerevelation that must commence it, but every moment the idea becamemore formidable. How transfer her own heavy burthen to her uncle, who might feel bound to take steps that would cut young Archfieldoff from parents, sister, child, and home. Or supposing Dr. Woodford disbelieved the apparition of to-night, the whole would bediscredited in his eyes, and he might suppose the summer morning'sduel as much a delusion of her fancy as the autumn evening'sphantom, and what evidence had she to adduce save Charles's despair, Peregrine's absence, and what there might be in the vault?

Yet if all that Father Crump and Pauline said was true, that dearuncle might be under a fatal delusion, and it might be the best hopefor herself--nay, even for that poor restless spirit--to separateherself from them. Here was Pauline talking of the blessedness ofbeing able to offer prayers on 'All Souls' Day' for all those ofwhose ultimate salvation there were fears, or who might be in astate of suffering. It even startled her as she thought of hermother, whom she always gave thanks for as one departed in faith andfear. Would Father Crump speak of her as one in a state ofinevitable ignorance to be expiated in the invisible world? Itshocked the daughter as almost profane. Yet if it were true, andprayers and masses could aid her?

Altogether Anne was in a mood on which the voices broke strangelyreturning from the supper full of news. Jane Humphreys was volubleon her various experiments. The nuts had burnt quietly together, and that was propitious to the Life-guardsman, Mr. Shaw, who hadshared hers; but on the other hand, the apple-paring thrown over hershoulder had formed a P, and he whom she had seen in the vista oflooking-glasses had a gold chain but neither a uniform nor a P inhis name, and Mrs. Buss declared that it meant that she should bethree times married, and the last would be an Alderman, if not LordMayor; and Mrs. Royer was joking Miss Bridgeman on the I of herapple-paring, which could stand for nothing but a certain Incleamong 'the Cockpit folk, ' who was her special detestation. 

Princess Anne and her husband had come down to see the nuts flying, and had laughed enough to split their sides, till Lord Cornbury camein and whispered something to Prince George, who said, "Est ilpossible?" and spoke to the Princess, and they all went awaytogether. Yes, and the Bishop of Bath and Wells, who had beenlaughing before looked very grave, and went with them. 

"Oh!" exclaimed Anne, "is the Bishop of Bath and Wells here?"

"Yes, in spite of his disgrace. I hear he is to preach in yourProtestant chapel to-morrow. "

Anne had brought a letter of introduction from her uncle in case sheshould have any opportunity of seeing his old fellow canon, who hadoften been kind to her when she was a little girl at Winchester. She was in many minds of hope and fear as to the meeting him orspeaking to him, under the consciousness of the possible defectionfrom his Church, and the doubt and dread whether to confide hersecret and consult him. However, the extreme improbability of herbeing able to do so made the yearning for the sight of a Winchesterface predominate, and her vigil of the night past made the nurseryauthorities concede that she had fairly earned her turn to go tochurch in the forenoon, since she was obstinate enough to want torun after an old heretic so-called Bishop who had so pragmaticallywithstood His Majesty. Jane Humphreys went too, for though she wasnot fond of week-day services, any escape from the nursery waswelcome, and there was a chance of seeing Lady Churchill's newmantle. 

In this she was disappointed, for none of the grandees were present, indeed it was whispered as the two girls made their way to thechapel, that there was great excitement over the Declaration of thePrince of Orange, which had arrived last night, that he had beeninvited by the lords spiritual and temporal to take up the cause ofthe liberties of England, and inquire into the evidence of the birthof the Prince of Wales. 

People shrugged their shoulders, but looked volumes, though it wasno time nor place for saying more; and when in the chapel, thatcountenance of Bishop Ken, so beautiful in outward form, soexpressive of strength, sweetness, and devotion, brought back such aflood of old associations to Anne, that it was enough to change thewhole current of her thoughts and make her her own mother's childagain, even before he opened his mouth. She caught his sweet voicein the Psalms, and closing her eyes seemed to be in the Cathedralonce more among those mighty columns and arches; and when he beganhis sermon, on the text, 'Let the Saints be joyful with glory, letthem rejoice in their beds, ' she found the Communion of Saints inParadise and on earth knit together in one fellowship as truly andpreciously brought home to her as ever it had been to Pauline, andmoreover when she thought of her mother, 'the lurid mist' wasdispelled which had so haunted her the night before. 

The longing to speak to him awoke; and as he was quitting the chapelin full procession his kindly eye lit upon her with a look ofrecognition; and before she had moved from her place, one of theattendant clergy came back by his desire to conduct her to him. 

He held out his hand as she courtesied low. 

"Mistress Woodford, " he said, "my old friend's niece! He wrote tome of you, but I have had no opportunity of seeing you before. "

"Oh, my Lord! I was so much longing to see and speak with you. "

"I am lodging at Lambeth, " said the Bishop, "and it is too far totake you with me thither, but perhaps my good brother here, " turningto the chaplain, "can help us to a room where we can be private. "

This was done; the chaplain's parlour at the Cockpit was placed attheir disposal, and there a few kind words from Bishop Ken led tothe unburthening of her heavy heart. Of Ken's replies to thecontroversial difficulties there is no need to tell. Indeed, ambition was far more her temptation than any real difficulties asto doctrine. Her dissatisfaction at being unable to answer thequestions raised by Father Crump was exaggerated as the excuse andcover to herself of her craving for escape from her presentsubordinate post; and this the Bishop soon saw, and tenderly butfirmly drew her to own both this and to confess the ambitious spiritwhich had led her into this scene of temptation. "It was trueindeed, " he said, "that trial by our own error is hardest toencounter, but you have repented, and by God's grace, my child, Itrust you will be enabled to steer your course aright through thetrials of loyalty to our God and to our King that are coming upon usall. Ever remember God and the plain duty first, His anointed next. Is there more that you would like to tell me? for you still bear atroubled look, and I have full time. "

Then Anne told him all the strange adventure of Portchester Castle, and even of the apparition of the night before. That gentleness andsympathy seemed to draw out all that was in her heart, and to hersurprise, he did not treat the story of that figure as necessarily adelusion. He had known and heard too much of spiritualmanifestations to the outward senses to declare that such thingscould not be. 

What she had seen might be explained by one of four hypotheses. Itwas either a phantom of her brain, and her being fully awake, although recently dwelling on the recollection, rendered that idealess probable, or the young man had not been killed and she had seenhim in propria persona. 

She had Charles Archfield's word that the death was certain. He hadnever been heard of again, and if alive, the walk before Whitehallwas the last place where he would be. As to mistaking any one elsefor him, the Bishop remembered enough of the queer changeling elf toagree with her that it was not a very probable contingency. And ifit were indeed a spirit, why should it visit her? There had beenone good effect certainly in the revival of home thoughts andturning her mind from the allurements of favour, but that did notseem to account for the spirit seeking her out. 

Was it, Anne faltered, a sign that she ought to confess all, for thesake of procuring Christian burial for him. Yet how should she, when she had promised silence to young Archfield? True, it was forhis wife's sake, and she was dead; but there were the rest of hisfamily and himself to be considered. What should she do?

The Bishop thought a little while, then said that he did not believethat she ought to speak without Mr. Archfield's consent, unless shesaw any one else brought into danger by her silence. If it everbecame possible, he thought, that she should ascertain whether thebody were in the vault, and if so, it might be possible to procureburial for it, perhaps without identification, or at any ratewithout making known what could only cause hostility and distressbetween the two families, unless the young man himself on his returnshould make the confession. This the Bishop evidently consideredthe sounder, though the harder course, but he held that Anne had noright to take the initiative. She could only wait, and bear herload alone; but the extreme kindness and compassion with which hetalked to her soothed and comforted her so much that she feltinfinitely relieved and strengthened when he dismissed her with hisblessing, and far happier and more at peace than she had been sincethat terrible summer morning, though greatly humbled, and taught torepent of her aspirations after earthly greatness, and to accept herpresent condition as a just retribution, and a trial of constancy. 

CHAPTER XIX: THE DAUGHTER'S SECRET

"Thy sister's naught: O Regan, she hath tiedSharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, _here_:I can scarce speak to thee. "

King Lear. 

"Am I--oh! am I going home?" thought Anne. "My uncle will be atWinchester. I am glad of it. I could not yet bear to seePortchester again. That Shape would be there. Yet how shall I dealwith what seems laid on me? But oh! the joy of escaping from thisweary, weary court! Oh, the folly that took me hither! Now thatthe Prince is gone, Lady Strickland will surely speak to the Queenfor my dismissal. "

There had been seventeen days of alarms, reports, and counter-reports, and now the King, with the Prince of Denmark, had gone tojoin the army on Salisbury Plain, and at the same time the littlePrince of Wales had been sent off to his half-brother, the Duke ofBerwick, at Portsmouth, under charge of Lady Powys, there to beembarked for France. Anne had been somewhat disappointed at notgoing with them, hoping that when at Portsmouth or in passingWinchester she might see her uncle and obtain her release, for shehad no desire to be taken abroad; but it was decreed otherwise. Miss Dunord went, rejoicing and thankful to be returning to France, and the other three rockers remained. 

There had already been more than one day of alarms and tumults. TheBody-guards within were always on duty; the Life-guards without wereconstantly patrolling; and on the 5th of November, when the Princeof Orange was known to be near at hand, and was in fact actuallylanding at Torbay, the mob had with difficulty been restrained fromburning in effigy, not only Guy Fawkes, but Pope, cardinals, andmitred bishops, in front of the palace, and actually paraded themall, with a figure of poor Sir Edmondbury Godfrey bearing his headin his hand, tied on horseback behind a Jesuit, full before thewindows, with yells of

"The Pope, the Pope, Up the ladder and down the rope, "

and clattering of warming-pans. 

Jane Humphreys was dreadfully frightened. Anne found her crouchingclose to her bed, with the curtains wrapped round her. "Have theygot in?" she cried. "O Miss Woodford, how shall we make thembelieve we are good Protestants?"

And when this terror had subsided, and it was well known that theDutch were at Exeter, there was another panic, for one of the Life-guardsmen had told her to beware, since if the Royal troops atHounslow were beaten, the Papists would surely take their revenge. 

"I am to scream from the windows to Mr. Shaw, " she said; but whatgood will that do if the priests and the Frenchmen have strangledme? And perhaps he won't be on guard. "

"He was only trying to frighten you, " suggested Anne. 

"Dear me, Miss Woodford, aren't you afraid? You have the stomach ofa lion. "

"Why, what would be the good of hurting us?"

However, Anne was not at all surprised, when on the very evening ofthe Prince's departure, old Mrs. Humphreys, a venerable-looking damein handsome but Puritanically-fashioned garments, came in a hackneycoach to request in her son's name that her granddaughter mightreturn with her, as her occupation was at an end. 

Jane was transported with joy. 

"Ay, ay, " said the grandmother, "look at you now, and think howcrazy you were to go to the palace, though 'twas always against myjudgment. "

"Ah, I little knew how mortal dull it would be!" said Jane. 

"Ye've found it no better than the husks that the swine did eat, eh?So much the better and safer for your soul, child. "

Nobody wanted to retain Jane, and while she was hastily putting herthings together, the grandmother turned to Anne: "And you, MistressWoodford, from what I hear, you have been very good in keeping mysilly child stanch to her religion and true to her duty. If ever ona pinch you needed a friend in London, my son and I would be proudto serve you--Master Joshua Humphreys, at the Golden Lamb, Gracechurch Street, mind you. No one knows what may hap in thesestrange and troublesome times, and you might be glad of a house togo to till you can send to your own friends--that is, if we are notall murdered by the Papists first. "

Though Anne did not expect such a catastrophe as this, she wasreally grateful for the offer, and thought it possible that shemight avail herself of it, as she had not been able to communicatewith any of her mother's old friends, and Bishop Ken was not to herknowledge still in London. 

She watched anxiously for the opportunity of asking Lady Stricklandwhether she might apply for her dismissal, and write to her uncle tofetch her home. 

"Child, " said the lady, "I think you love the Queen. "

"Indeed I do, madam. "

"It is well that at this juncture all Protestants should not leaveher. You are a gentlewoman in manner, and can speak her nativetongue, friends are falling from her, scarcely ladies are leftenough to make a fit appearance around her; if you are faithful toher, remain, I entreat of you. "

There was no resisting such an appeal, and Anne remained in therooms now left bare and empty, until a message was brought to her tocome to the Queen. Mary Beatrice sat in a chair by her fire, looking sad and listless, her eyes red with weeping, but she gaveher sweet smile as the girl entered, and held out her hand, sayingin her sweet Italian, "You are faithful, Signorina Anna! you remain!That is well; but now my son is gone, Anna, you must be mine. Imake you my reader instead of his rocker. "

As Anne knelt on one knee to kiss hands with tears in her eyes, theQueen impulsively threw her arms round her neck and kissed her. "Ah, you loved him, and he loved you, il mio tesorino?"

Promotion _had_ come--how strangely. She had to enter on her dutiesat once, and to read some chapters of an Italian version of theImitation. A reader was of a higher grade of importance than arocker, and for the ensuing days, when not in attendance on theQueen, Anne was the companion of Lady Strickland and LadyOglethorpe. In the absence of the King and Prince, the Queenreceived Princess Anne at her own table, and Lady Churchill and LadyFitzhardinge joined that of her ladies-in-waiting. 

Lady Churchill, with her long neck, splendid hair and complexion, short chin, and sparkling blue eyes, was beautiful to look at, butnot at all disposed to be agreeable to the Queen's ladies, whom shetreated with a sort of blunt scorn, not at all disguised by theforms of courtesy. However, she had, to their relief, a good dealof leave of absence just then to visit her children, as indeed theladies agreed that she did pretty much as she chose, and that thefaithful Mrs. Morley was somewhat afraid of the dear Mrs. Freeman. 

One evening in coming up some steps Princess Anne entangled her footin her pink taffetas petticoat, nearly fell, and tore a large rent, besides breaking the thread of the festoons of seed pearls whichbordered it, and scattering them on the floor. 

"Lack-a-day! Lack-a-day!" sighed she, as after a little screamingshe gathered herself up again. "That new coat! How shall I everface Danvers again such a figure? She's an excellent tirewoman, butshe will be neither to have nor to hold when she sees that gown--that she set such store by! Nay, I can hardly step for it. "

"I think I could repair it, with Her Majesty's and your RoyalHighness's permission, " said Anne, who was creeping about on herknees picking up the pearls. "

"Oh! do! do! There's a good child, and then Danvers and Dawson needknow nothing about it, " cried the Princess in great glee. "Youremember Dawson, don't you, little Woodie, as we used to call you, and how she used to rate us when we were children if we soiled ourfrocks?"

So, in the withdrawing-room, Anne sat on the floor with needle andsilk, by the light of the wax candles, deftly repairing the rent, and then threading the scattered pearls, and arranging the festoonso as to hide the darn. The Princess was delighted, and while thepoor wife lay back in her chair, thankful that behind her fan shecould give way to her terrible anxieties about her little son, whomight be crossing to France, and her husband, suffering from fearfulnose-bleeding, and wellnigh alone among traitors and deserters, thestep-daughter, on the other side of the great hearth, chattered awaycomplacently to 'little Woodford. '

"Do you recollect old Dawson, and how she used to grumble when Iwent to sup with the Duchess--my own mother--you know, because sheused to give me chocolate, and she said it made me scream at night, and be over fat by day? Ah! that was before you used to come amongus. It was after I went to France to my poor aunt of Orleans. Iremember she never would let us kiss her for fear of spoiling hercomplexion, and Mademoiselle and I did so hate living maigre on thefast days. I was glad enough to get home at last, and then mysister was jealous because I talked French better than she did. "

So the Princess prattled on without needing much reply, until hernamesake had finished her work, with which she was well pleased, andpromised to remember her. To Anne it was an absolute marvel how shecould thus talk when she knew that her husband had deserted herfather in his need, and that things were in a most criticalposition. 

The Queen could not refrain from a sigh of relief when her step-daughter had retired to the Cockpit; and after seeking her sleeplessbed, she begged Anne, "if it did not too much incommode her, to readto her from the Gospel. "

The next day was Sunday, and Anne felt almost as if deserting hercause, when going to the English service in Whitehall Chapel Royal, now almost emptied except of the Princess's suite, and some of thesehad the bad taste and profanity to cough and chatter all through thespecial prayer drawn up by the Archbishop for the King's safety. 

People were not very reverent, and as all stood up at the end of theAdvent Sunday service to let the Princess sweep by in her glitteringgreen satin petticoat, peach-coloured velvet train, and feather-crowned head, she laid a hand on Anne's arm, and whispered, "Followme to my closet, little Woodford. "

There was no choice but to obey, as the Queen would not require herreader till after dinner, and Anne followed after the variousattendants, who did not seem very willing to forward a privateinterview with a possible rival, though, as Anne supposed, theobject must be to convey some message to the Queen. By the time shearrived and had been admitted to the inner chamber or dressing-room, the Princess had thrown off her more cumbrous finery, and sat atease in an arm-chair. She nodded her be-curled head, and said, "Youcan keep a secret, little Woodie?"

"I can, madam, but I do not love one, " said Anne, thinking of hermost burthensome one. 

"Well, no need to keep this long. You are a good young maiden, andmy own poor mother's godchild, and you are handy and notable. Youdeserve better preferment than ever you will get in that Popishhousehold, where your religion is in danger. Now, I am not going tobe in jeopardy here any longer, nor let myself be kept hostage forhis Highness. Come to my rooms at bedtime. Slip in when I wish theQueen good-night, and I'll find an excuse. Then you shall come withme to--no, I'll not say where, and I'll make your fortune, onlymum's the word. "

"But--Your Royal Highness is very good, but I am sworn to the Princeand Queen. I could not leave them without permission. "

"Prince! Prince! Pretty sort of a Prince. Prince of brickbats, asChurchill says. Nay, girl, don't turn away in that fashion. Consider. Your religion is in danger. "

"Nay, madam, my religion would not be served by breaking my oath. "

"Pooh! What's your oath to a mere pretender? Besides, consideryour fortune. Rocker to a puling babe--even if he was what they sayhe is. And don't build on the Queen's favour--even if she remainswhat she is now, she is too much beset with Papists and foreignersto do anything for you. "

"I do not, " Anne began to say, but the Princess gave her no time. 

"Besides, pride will have a fall, and if you are a good maid, andhold your tongue, and serve me well in this strait, I'll make you mymaid of honour, and marry you so that you shall put Lady before yourname. Ay, and get good preferment for your uncle, who has had onlya poor stall from the King here. "

Anne repressed an inclination to say this was not the way in whichher uncle would wish to get promotion, and only replied, "Your RoyalHighness is very good, but--"

Whereat the Princess, in a huff, exclaimed, "Oh, very well, if youchoose to be torn to pieces by the mob, and slaughtered by thepriests, like poor Godfrey, and burnt by the Papists at last, unlessyou go to Mass, you may stay for aught I care, and joy go with you. I thought I was doing you a kindness for my poor mother's sake, butit seems you know best. If you like to cast in your lot with thePope, I wash my hands of you. "

Accordingly Anne courtesied herself off, not seriously alarmed as tothe various catastrophes foretold by the Princess, though a littleshaken in nerves. Here then was another chance of promotion, certainly without treason to her profession of faith, but so offeredthat honour could not but revolt against it, though in truth poorPrincess Anne was neither so foolish nor so heartless a woman as sheappeared in the excitement to which an uneasy conscience, theexpectation of a great enterprise, and a certain amount of terrorhad worked her up; but she had high words again in the evening, aswas supposed, with the Queen. Certainly Anne found her own RoyalMistress weeping and agitated, though she only owned to being veryanxious about the health of the King, who had had a second violentattack of bleeding at the nose, and she did not seem consoled by theassurances of her elder attendants that the relief had probablysaved him from a far more dangerous attack. Again Anne read to hertill a late hour, but next morning was strangely disturbed. 

The Royal household had not been long dressed, and breakfast hadjust been served to the ladies, when loud screams were heard, moststartling in the unsettled and anxious state of affairs. The Queen, pale and trembling, came out of her chamber with her hair on hershoulders. "Tell me at once, for pity's sake. Is it my husband ormy son?" she asked with clasped hands, as two or three of thePrincess's servants rushed forward. 

"The Princess, the Princess!" was the cry, "the priests havemurdered her. "

"What have you done with her, madam?" rudely demanded Mrs. Buss, oneof the lost lady's nurses. 

Mary Beatrice drew herself up with grave dignity, saying, "I supposeyour mistress is where she likes to be. I know nothing of her, butI have no doubt that you will soon hear of her. "

There was something in the Queen's manner that hushed the outcry inher presence, but the women, with Lady Clarendon foremost of them, continued to seek up and down the two palaces as if they thought thesubstantial person of the Princess Anne could be hidden in acupboard. 

Anne, in the first impulse, exclaimed, "She is gone!"

In a moment Mrs. Royer turned, "Gone, did you say? Do you know it?"

"You knew it and kept it secret!" cried Lady Strickland. 

"A traitor too!" said Lady Oglethorpe, in her vehement Irish tone. "I would not have thought it of Nanny Moore's daughter!" and sheturned her eyes in sad reproach on Anne. 

"If you know, tell me where she is gone, " cried Mrs. Buss, and thecry was re-echoed by the other women, while Anne's startled "Icannot tell! I do not know!" was unheeded. 

Only the Queen raising her hand gravely said, "Silence! What isthis?"

"Miss Woodford knew. "

"And never told!" cried the babble of voices. 

"Come hither, Mistress Woodford, " said the Queen. "Tell me, do youknow where Her Highness is?"

"No, please your Majesty, " said Anne, trembling from head to foot. "I do not know where she is. "

"Did you know of her purpose?"

"Your Majesty pardon me. She called me to her closet yesterday andpledged me to secrecy before I knew what she would say. "

"Only youthful inexperience will permit that pledge to be implied inmatters of State, " said the Queen. "Continue, Mistress Woodford;what did she tell you?"

"She said she feared to be made a hostage for the Prince of Denmark, and meant to escape, and she bade me come to her chamber at night togo with her. "

"And wherefore did you not? You are of her religion, " said theQueen bitterly. 

"Madam, how could I break mine oath to your Majesty and His RoyalHighness?"

"And you thought concealing the matter according to that oath? Nay, nay, child, I blame you not. It was a hard strait between yourhonour to her and your duty to the King and to me, and I cannot butbe thankful to any one who does regard her word. But this desertionwill be a sore grief to His Majesty. "

Mary Beatrice was fairer-minded than the women, who looked askanceat the girl, Princess Anne's people resenting that one of the otherhousehold should have been chosen as confidante, and the Queen'sbeing displeased that the secret had been kept. But at that momentfrightful yells and shouts arose, and a hasty glance from thewindows showed a mass of men, women, and children howling for theirPrincess. They would tear down Whitehall if she were not deliveredup to them. However, a line of helmeted Life-guards on their heavyhorses was drawn up between, with sabres held upright, and thereseemed no disposition to rush upon these. Lord Clarendon, uncle tothe Princess, had satisfied himself that she had really escaped, andhe now came out and assured the mob, in a stentorian voice, that hewas perfectly satisfied of his niece's safety, waving the letter shehad left on her toilet-table. 

The mob shouted, "Bless the Princess! Hurrah for the Protestantfaith! No warming-pans!" but in a good-tempered mood; and the poorlittle garrison breathed more freely; but Anne did not feel herselfforgiven. She was in a manner sent to Coventry, and treated as ifshe were on the enemy's side. Never had her proud nature sufferedso much, and she shed bitter tears as she said to herself, "It isvery unjust! What could I have done? How could I stop Her Highnessfrom speaking? Could they expect me to run in and accuse her? Oh, that I were at home again! Mother, mother, you little know! Ofwhat use am I now?"

It was the very question asked by Hester Bridgeman, whom she foundpacking her clothes in her room. 

"Take care that this is sent after me, " she said, "when a messengerI shall send calls for it. "

"What, you have your dismissal?"

"No, I should no more get it than you have done. They cannot affordto let any one go, you see, or they will have to dress up thechambermaids to stand behind the Queen's chair. I have settled itwith my cousin, Harry Bridgeman, I shall mix with the throng thatcome to ask for news, and be off with him before the crowd breaksin, as they will some of these days, for the guards are but half-hearted. My Portia, why did not you take a good offer, and go withthe Princess?"

"I thought it would be base. "

"And much you gained by it! You are only suspected and accused. "

"I can't be a rat leaving a sinking ship. "

"That is courteous, but I forgive it, Portia, as I know you willrepent of your folly. But you never did know which side to look forthe butter. "

Perhaps seeing how ugly desertion and defection looked in othersmade constancy easier to Anne, much as she longed for the Close atWinchester, and she even thought with a hope of the Golden Lamb, Gracechurch, as an immediate haven sure to give her a welcome. 

Her occupation of reading to the Queen was ended by the King'sreturn, so physically exhausted by violent nose-bleeding, sodespondent at the universal desertion, and so broken-hearted at hisdaughter's defection, that his wife was absorbed in attending uponhim. 

Anne began to watch for an opportunity to demand a dismissal, whichshe thought would exempt her from all blame, but she was surprisedand a little dismayed by being summoned to the King in the Queen'schamber. He was lying on a couch clad in a loose dressing-gowninstead of his laced coat, and a red night-cap replacing his heavyperuke, and his face was as white and sallow as if he wererecovering from a long illness. 

"Little godchild, " he said, holding out his hand as Anne made herobeisance, "the Queen tells me you can read well. I have a fancy tohear. "

Immensely relieved at the kindness of his tone, Anne courtesied, andmurmured out her willingness. 

"Read this, " he said; "I would fain hear this; my father loved it. Here. "

Anne felt her task a hard one when the King pointed to the third Actof Shakespeare's Richard II. She steeled herself and strengthenedher voice as best she could, and struggled on till she came to--

"I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, My figured goblets for a dish of wood, My sceptre for a palmer's walking-staff, My subjects for a pair of carved saints, And my large kingdom for a little grave, A little, little grave. "

There she fairly broke down, and sobbed. 

"Little one, little one, " said James, you are sorry for poorRichard, eh?"

"Oh, sir!" was all she could say. 

"And you are in disgrace, they tell me, because my daughter chose totry to entice you away, " said James, "and you felt bound not tobetray her. Never mind; it was an awkward case of conscience, andthere's not too much faithfulness to spare in these days. We shallknow whom to trust to another time. Can you continue now? I wouldtake a lesson how, 'with mine own hands to give away my crown. '"

It was well for Anne that fresh tidings were brought in at thatmoment, and she had to retire, with the sore feeling turned into anenthusiastic pity and loyalty, which needed the relief of sobs andmental vows of fidelity. She felt herself no longer in disgracewith her Royal master and mistress, but she was not in favour withher few companions left--all who could not get over her secrecy, andthought her at least a half traitor as well as a heretic. 

Whitehall was almost in a state of siege, the turbulent mobcontinually coming to shout, 'No Popery!' and the like, though theyproceeded no farther. The ministers and other gentlemen came andwent, but the priests and the ladies durst not venture out for fearof being recognised and insulted, if not injured. Bad news came infrom day to day, and no tidings of the Prince of Wales being insafety in France. Once Anne received a letter from her uncle, whichcheered her much. 

DEAR CHILD--So far as I can gather, your employment is at an end, if it be true as reported that the Prince of Wales is atPortsmouth, with the intent that he should be carried to France;but the gentlemen of the navy seem strongly disposed to preventsuch a transportation of the heir of the realm to a foreigncountry. I fear me that you are in a state of doubt and anxiety, but I need not exhort your good mother's child to be true andloyal to her trust and to the Anointed of the Lord in all thingslawful at all costs. If you are left in any distress orperplexity, go either to Sir Theophilus Oglethorpe's house, or tothat of my good old friend, the Dean of Westminster; and as soonas I hear from you I will endeavour to ride to town and bring youhome to my house, which is greatly at a loss without its youngmistress. 

The letter greatly refreshed Anne's spirits, and gave her somethingto look forward to, giving her energy to stitch at a set of lawncuffs and bands for her uncle, and think with the more pleasure of areturn that his time of residence at Winchester lay between her andthat vault in the castle. 

There were no more attempts made at her conversion. Every one wastoo anxious and occupied, and one or more of the chiefly obnoxiouspriests were sent privately away from day to day. While summerfriends departed, Anne often thought of Bishop Ken's counsel as toloyalty to Heaven and man. 

CHAPTER XX: THE FLIGHT

"Storms may rush in, and crimes and woes Deform that peaceful bower;They may not mar the deep repose Of that immortal flower. Though only broken hearts be found To watch his cradle by, No blight is on his slumbers sound, No touch of harmful eye. "

KEBLE. 

The news was even worse and worse in that palace of despondency andterror. Notice had arrived that Lord Dartmouth was withheld fromdespatching the young Prince to France by his own scruples and thoseof the navy; and orders were sent for the child's return. Then camea terrible alarm. The escort sent to meet him were reported to havebeen attacked by the rabble on entering London and dispersed, sothat each man had to shift for himself. 

There was a quarter of an hour which seemed many hours of fearfulsuspense, while King and Queen both knelt at their altar, praying inagony for the child whom they pictured to themselves in the hands ofthe infuriated mob, too much persuaded of his being an imposture topity his unconscious innocence. No one who saw the blanched cheeksand agonised face of Mary Beatrice, or James's stern, mute misery, could have believed for a moment in the cruel delusion that he wasno child of theirs. 

The Roman Catholic women were with them. To enter the oratory wouldin those circumstances have been a surrender of principle, but nonethe less did Anne pray with fervent passion in her chamber for pityfor the child, and comfort for his parents. At last there was astir, and hurrying out to the great stair, Anne saw a man in plainclothes replying in an Irish accent to the King, who was supportingthe Queen with his arm. Happily the escort had missed the Prince ofWales. They had been obliged to turn back to London without meetinghim, and from that danger he had been saved. 

A burst of tears and a cry of fervent thanksgiving relieved theQueen's heart, and James gave eager thanks instead of the reprimandthe colonel had expected for his blundering. 

A little later, another messenger brought word that Lord and LadyPowys had halted at Guildford with their charge. A Frenchgentleman, Monsieur de St. Victor, was understood to have undertakento bring him to London--understood--for everything was whisperedrather than told among the panic-stricken women. No one who knewthe expectation could go to bed that night except that the King andQueen had--in order to disarm suspicion--to go through theaccustomed ceremonies of the coucher. The ladies sat or lay ontheir beds intently listening, as hour after hour chimed from theclocks. 

At last, at about three in the morning, the challenge of thesentinels was heard from point to point. Every one started up, andhurried almost pell-mell towards the postern door. The King andQueen were both descending a stair leading from the King's dressing-room, and as the door was cautiously opened, it admitted a figure ina fur cloak, which he unfolded, and displayed the sleeping face ofthe infant well wrapped from the December cold. 

With rapture the Queen gathered him into her arms, and the fatherkissed him with a vehemence that made him awake and cry. St. Victorhad thought it safer that his other attendants should come in bydegrees in the morning, and thus Miss Woodford was the only actuallyeffective nursery attendant at hand. His food was waiting by thefire in his own sleeping chamber, and thither he was carried. Therethe Queen held him on her lap, while Anne fed him, and he smiled ather and held out his arms. 

The King came, and making a sign to Anne not to move, stoodwatching. 

Presently he said, "She has kept one secret, we may trust her withanother. "

"Oh, not yet, not yet, " implored the Queen. "Now I have both mytreasures again, let me rest in peace upon them for a little while. "

The King turned away with eyes full of tears while Anne was lullingthe child to sleep. She wondered, but durst not ask the Queen, where was the tiler's wife; but later she learnt from Miss Dunord, that the woman had been so terrified by the cries of the multitudeagainst the 'pretender, ' and still more at the sight of the sea, that she had gone into transports of fright, implored to go home, and perhaps half wilfully, become useless, so that the weaningalready commenced had to be expedited, and the fretfulness of thepoor child had been one of the troubles for some days. However, heseemed on his return to have forgotten his troubles, and Anne hadhim in her arms nearly all the next day. 

It was not till late in the evening that Anne knew what the King hadmeant. Then, while she was walking up and down the room, amusingthe little Prince with showing by turns the window and his face in alarge mirror, the Queen came in, evidently fresh from weeping, andholding out her arms for him, said, after looking to see that therewas no other audience--

"Child, the King would repose a trust in you. He wills that youshould accompany me to-night on a voyage to France to put thislittle angel in safety. "

"As your Majesty will, " returned Anne; "I will do my best. "

"So the King said. He knew his brave sailor's daughter was worthyof his trust, and you can speak French. It is well, for we go underthe escort of Messieurs de Lauzun and St. Victor. Be ready atmidnight. Lady Strickland or the good Labadie will explain more toyou, but do not speak of this to anyone else. You have leave now, "she added, as she herself carried the child towards his father'srooms. 

The maiden's heart swelled at the trust reposed in her, and theKing's kind words, and she kept back the sense of anxiety and doubtas to so vague a future. She found Mrs. Labadie lying on her bedawake, but trying to rest between two busy nights, and she was thentold that there was to be a flight from the palace of the Queen andPrince at midnight, Mrs. Labadie and Anne alone going with them, though Lord and Lady Powys and Lady Strickland, with the Queen'sItalian ladies, would meet them on board the yacht which was waitingat Gravesend. The nurse advised Anne to put a few necessaryequipments into a knapsack bound under a cloak, and to leave othergarments with her own in charge of Mr. Labadie, who would despatchthem with those of the suite, and would follow in another day withthe King. Doubt or refusal there could of course be none in suchcircumstances, and a high-spirited girl like Anne could not but feela thrill of heart at selection for such confidential and signalservice at her age, scarcely seventeen. Her one wish was to writeto her uncle what had become of her. Mrs. Labadie hardly thought itsafe, but said her husband would take charge of a note, and ifpossible, post it when they were safe gone, but nothing of theKing's plans must be mentioned. 

The hours passed away anxiously, and yet only too fast. So many hadquitted the palace that there was nothing remarkable in packing, butas Anne collected her properties, she could not help wonderingwhether she should ever see them again. Sometimes her spirit roseat the thought of serving her lovely Queen, saving the littlePrince, and fulfilling the King's trust; at others, she was full ofvague depression at the thought of being cut off from all she knewand loved, with seas between, and with so little notice to heruncle, who might never learn where she was; but she knew she had hisapproval in venturing all, and making any sacrifice for the Kingwhom all deserted; and she really loved her Queen and little Prince. 

The night came, and she and Mrs. Labadie, fully equipped in cloaksand hoods, waited together, Anne moving about restlessly, the elderwoman advising her to rest while she could. The little Prince, allunconscious of the dangers of the night, or of his loss of a throne, lay among his wraps in his cradle fast asleep. 

By and by the door opened, and treading softly in came the King inhis dressing-gown and night-cap, the Queen closely muffled, LadyStrickland also dressed for a journey, and two gentlemen, the onetall and striking-looking, the other slim and dark, in their cloaks, namely, Lauzun and St. Victor. 

It was one of those supreme moments almost beyond speech ormanifestation of feeling. 

The King took his child in his arms, kissed him, and solemnly saidto Lauzun, "I confide my wife and son to you. "

Both Frenchmen threw themselves on their knees kissing his hand witha vow of fidelity. Then giving the infant to Mrs. Labadie, Jamesfolded his wife in his arms in a long mute embrace; Anne carried thebasket containing food for the child; and first with a lantern wentSt. Victor, then Lauzun, handing the Queen; Mrs. Labadie with thechild, and Anne following, they sped down the stairs, along thegreat gallery, with steps as noiseless as they could make them, downanother stair to a door which St. Victor opened. 

A sentry challenged, sending a thrill of dismay through the anxioushearts, but St. Victor had the word, and on they went into the privygardens, where often Anne had paced behind Mrs. Labadie as thePrince took his airing. Startling lights from the windows fell onthem, illuminating the drops of rain that plashed round them on thatgrim December night, and their steps sounded on the gravel, whilestill the babe, sheltered under the cloak, slept safely. Anotherdoor was reached, more sentries challenged and passed; here was astreet whose stones and silent houses shone for a little space asSt. Victor raised his lantern and exchanged a word with a man on thebox of a carriage. 

One by one they were handed in, the Queen, the child, the nurse, Anne, and Lauzun, St. Victor taking his place outside. As if in adream they rattled on through the dark street, no one speakingexcept that Lauzun asked the Queen if she were wet. 

It was not far before they stopped at the top of the steps calledthe Horseferry. A few lights twinkled here and there, and werereflected trembling in the river, otherwise a black awful gulf, fromwhich, on St. Victor's cautious hail, a whistle ascended, and acloaked figure with a lantern came up the steps glistening in therain. 

One by one again, in deep silence, they were assisted down, and intothe little boat that rocked ominously as they entered it. There thewomen crouched together over the child unable to see one another, Anne returning the clasp of a hand on hers, believing it Mrs. Labadie's, till on Lauzun's exclaiming, "Est ce que j'incommode saMajeste?" the reply showed her that it was the Queen's hand that sheheld, and she began a startled "Pardon, your Majesty, " but the sweetreply in Italian was, "Ah, we are as sisters in this stress. "

The eager French voice of Lauzun went on, in undertones certainly, but as if he had not the faculty of silence, and amid the plash ofthe oars, the rush of the river, and the roar of the rain, it wasnot easy to tell what he said, his voice was only another of thenoises, though the Queen made little courteous murmurs in reply. Itwas a hard pull against wind and tide towards a little speck ofgreen light which was shown to guide the rowers; and when at lastthey reached it, St. Victor's hail was answered by Dusions, one ofthe servants, and they drew to the steps where he held a lantern. 

"To the coach at once, your Majesty. "

"It is at the inn--ready--but I feared to let it stand. "

Lauzun uttered a French imprecation under his breath, and danced onthe step with impatience, only restrained so far as to hand out theQueen and her two attendants. He was hotly ordering off Dusions andSt. Victor to bring the coach, when the former suggested that theymust find a place for the Queen to wait in where they could findher. 

"What is that dark building above?"

"Lambeth Church, " Dusions answered. 

"Ah, your Protestant churches are not open; there is no shelter forus there, " sighed the Queen. 

"There is shelter in the angle of the buttress; I have been there, your Majesty, " said Dusions. 

Thither then they turned. 

"What can that be?" exclaimed the Queen, starting and shuddering asa fierce light flashed in the windows and played on the wall. 

"It is not within, madame, " Lauzun encouraged; "it is reflectedlight from a fire somewhere on the other side of the river. "

"A bonfire for our expulsion. Ah! why should they hate us so?"sighed the poor Queen. 

"'Tis worse than that, only there's no need to tell Her Majesty so, "whispered Mrs. Labadie, who, in the difficulties of the ascent, hadbeen fain to hand the still-sleeping child to Anne. "'Tis theCatholic chapel of St. Roque. The heretic miscreants!"

"Pray Heaven no life be lost, " sighed Anne. 

Sinister as the light was, it aided the poor fugitives at that deadhour of night to find an angle between the church wall and abuttress where the eaves afforded a little shelter from the rain, which slackened a little, when they were a little concealed from theroad, so that the light need not betray them in case any passengerwas abroad at such an hour, as two chimed from the clock overhead. 

The women kept together close against the wall to avoid the drip ofthe eaves. Lauzun walked up and down like a sentinel, his armsfolded, and talking all the while, though, as before, his utteranceswere only an accompaniment to the falling rain and howling wind;Mary Beatrice was murmuring prayers over the sleeping child, whichshe now held in the innermost corner; Anne, with wide-stretchedeyes, was gazing into the light cast beyond the buttress by the fireon the opposite side, when again there passed across it that formshe had seen on All Saints' Eve--the unmistakable phantom ofPeregrine. 

It was gone into the darkness in another second; but a violent starton her part had given a note of alarm, and brought back the Count, whose walk had been in the opposite direction. 

"What was it? Any spy?"

"Oh no--no--nothing! It was the face of one who is dead, " gaspedAnne. 

"The poor child's nerve is failing her, " said the Queen gently, asLauzun drawing his sword burst out--

"If it be a spy it _shall_ be the face of one who is dead;" and hedarted into the road, but returned in a few moments, saying no onehad passed except one of the rowers returning after running up tothe inn to hasten the coach; how could he have been seen from thechurch wall? The wheels were heard drawing up at that moment, sothat the only thought was to enter it as quickly as might be in thesame order as before, after which the start was made, along the roadthat led through the marshes of Lambeth; and then came the inquiry--an anxious one--whom or what mademoiselle, as Lauzun called her, hadseen. 

"O monsieur!" exclaimed the poor girl in her confusion, her bestFrench failing, "it was nothing--no living man. "

"Can mademoiselle assure me of that? The dead I fear not, theliving I would defy. "

"He lives not, " said she in an undertone, with a shudder. 

"But who is he that mademoiselle can be so certain?" asked theFrenchman. 

"Oh! I know him well enough, " said Anne, unable to control hervoice. 

"Mademoiselle must explain herself, " said M. De Lauzun. "If he bespirit--or phantom--there is no more to say, but if he be in theflesh, and a spy--then--" There was a little rattle of his sword. 

"Speak, I command, " interposed the Queen; "you must satisfy M. LeComte. "

Thus adjured, Anne said in a low voice of horror: "It was agentleman of our neighbourhood; he was killed in a duel lastsummer!"

"Ah! You are certain?"

"I had the misfortune to see the fight, " sighed Anne. 

"That accounts for it, " said the Queen kindly. "If mademoiselle'snerves were shaken by such a remembrance, it is not wonderful thatit should recur to her at so strange a watch as we have beenkeeping. "

"It might account for her seeing this revenant cavalier in anypassenger, " said Lauzun, not satisfied yet. 

"No one ever was like him, " said Anne. "I could not mistake him. "

"May I ask mademoiselle to describe him?" continued the count. 

Feeling all the time as if this first mention were a sort ofbetrayal, Anne faltered the words: "Small, slight, almostmisshapen--with a strange one-sided look--odd, unusual features. "

Lauzun's laugh jarred on her. "Eh! it is not a flattering portrait. Mademoiselle is not haunted by a hero of romance, it appears, somuch as by a demon. "

"And none of those monsieur has employed in our escape answer tothat description?" asked the Queen. 

"Assuredly not, your Majesty. Crooked person and crooked mind gotogether, and St. Victor would only have trusted to your big honestrowers of the Tamise. I think we may be satisfied that thedemoiselle's imagination was excited so as to evoke a phantomimpressed on her mind by a previous scene of terror. Such thingshave happened in my native Gascony. "

Anne was fain to accept the theory in silence, though it seemed toher strange that at a moment when she was for once not thinking ofPeregrine, her imagination should conjure him up, and there was astrong feeling within her that it was something external that hadflitted across the shadow, not a mere figment of her brain, thoughthe notion was evidently accepted, and she could hear a muttering ofMrs. Labadie that this was the consequence of employing youngwenches with their whims and megrims. 

The Count de Lauzun did his best to entertain the Queen with storiesof revenants in Gascony and elsewhere, and with reminiscences of hiseleven years' captivity at Pignerol, and his intercourse withFouquet; but whenever in aftertimes Anne Woodford tried to recallher nocturnal drive with this strange personage, the chosen and veryunkind husband of the poor old Grande Mademoiselle, she never couldrecollect anything but the fierce glare of his eyes in the light ofthe lamps as he put her to that terrible interrogation. 

The talk was chiefly monologue. Mrs. Labadie certainly slept, perhaps the Queen did so too, and Anne became conscious that shemust have slumbered likewise, for she found every one gazing at herin the pale morning dawn and asking why she cried, "O Charles, hold!"

As she hastily entreated pardon, Lauzun was heard to murmur, "Jeparie que le revenant se nomme Charles, " and she collected hersenses just in time to check her contradiction, recollecting thathappily such a name as Charles revealed nothing. The little Prince, who had slumbered so opportunely all night, awoke and receivedinfinite praise, and what he better appreciated, the food that hadbeen provided for him. They were near their journey's end, and itwas well, for people were awakening and going to their work as theypassed one of the villages, and once the remark was heard, "Theregoes a coach full of Papists. "

However, no attempt was made to stop the party, and as it would bedaylight when they reached Gravesend, the Queen arranged herdisguise to resemble, as she hoped, a washerwoman--taking off hergloves, and hiding her hair, while the Prince, happily again asleep, was laid in a basket of linen. Anne could not help thinking thatshe thus looked more remarkable than if she had simply embarked as alady; but she meant to represent the attendant of her Italian friendCountess Almonde, whom she was to meet on board. 

Leaving the coach outside a little block of houses, the partyreached a projecting point of land, where three Irish officersreceived them, and conducted them to a boat. Then, wrapped closelyin cloaks from the chill morning air, they were rowed to the yacht, on the deck of which stood Lord and Lady Powys, Lady Strickland, Pauline Dunord, and a few more faithful followers, who had come morerapidly. There was no open greeting nor recognition, for thecaptain and crew were unaware whom they were carrying, and, on thediscovery, either for fear of danger or hope of reward, might havecaptured such a prize. 

Therefore all the others, with whispered apologies, were hoisted upbefore her, and Countess Almonde had to devise a special entreatythat the chair might be lowered again for her poor laundress as wellas for the other two women. 

The yacht, which had been hired by St. Victor, at once spread hersails; Mrs. Labadie conversed with the captain while the countesstook the Queen below into the stifling crowded little cabin. It wasaltogether a wretched voyage; the wind was high, and the pitchingand tossing more or less disabled everybody in the suite. The Queenwas exceedingly ill, so were the countess and Mrs. Labadie. Nobodycould be the least effective but Signora Turini, who waited on herMajesty, and Anne, who was so far seasoned by excursions atPortsmouth that she was capable of taking sole care of the littlePrince, as the little vessel dashed along on her way with her cargoof alarm and suffering through the Dutch fleet of fifty vessels, none of which seemed to notice her--perhaps by express desire not tobe too curious as to English fugitives. 

Between the care of the little one, who needed in the tossing of theship to be constantly in arms though he never cried and when awakewas always merry, and the giving as much succour as possible to hersuffering companions, Anne could not either rest or think, butseemed to live in one heavy dazed dream of weariness and endurance, hardly knowing whether it were day or night, till the welcome soundwas heard that Calais was in sight. 

Then, as well as they could, the poor travellers crawled from thecorners, and put themselves in such array as they could contrive, though the heaving of the waves, as the little yacht lay to, did notconduce to their recovery. The Count de Lauzun went ashore as soonas a boat could be lowered to apprise M. Charot, the Governor ofCalais, of the guest he was to receive, and after an interval ofconsiderable discomfort, in full view of the massive fortifications, boats came off to bring the Queen and her attendants on shore, thistime as a Queen, though she refused to receive any honours. LadyStrickland, recovering as soon as she was on dry land, resumed herPrince, who was fondled with enthusiastic praises for his excellentconduct on the voyage. 

Anne could not help feebly thinking some of the credit might be dueto her, since she had held him by land and water nearly ever sinceleaving Whitehall, but she was too much worn out by her nights ofunrest, and too much battered and beaten by the tossings of hervoyage, to feel anything except in a languid half-conscious way, under a racking headache; and when the curious old house where theywere to rest was reached, and all the rest were eating with ravenousappetites, she could taste nothing, and being conducted by acompassionate Frenchwoman in a snow-white towering cap to a strawmattress spread on the ground, she slept the twenty-four hours roundwithout moving. 

CHAPTER XXI: EXILE

"'Oh, who are ye, young man?' she said. 'What country come ye frae?''I flew across the sea, ' he said;''Twas but this very day. '"

Old Ballad. 

Five months had passed away since the midnight flight from England, when Anne Woodford was sitting on a stone bench flanked with statuesin the stately gardens of the Palace of St. Germain, working away atsome delicate point lace, destined to cover some of the deficienciesof her dress, for her difficulties were great, and these months hadbeen far from happy ones. 

The King was in Ireland, the Queen spent most of the time of hisabsence in convents, either at Poissy or Chaillot, carrying her sonwith her to be the darling of the nuns, who had for the most partnever even seen a baby, and to whom a bright lively child of a yearold was a perfect treasure of delight. Not wishing to encumber thegood Sisters with more attendants than were needful, the Queen onlytook with her one lady governess, one nurse, and one rocker, andthis last naturally was Pauline Dunord, both a Frenchwoman and aRoman Catholic. 

This was in itself no loss to Anne. Her experience of the nunneryat Boulogne, where had been spent three days in expectation of theKing, had not been pleasant. The nuns had shrunk from her as aheretic, and kept their novices and pensionnaires from the taint ofcommunication with her; and all the honour she might have deservedfor the Queen's escape seemed to have been forfeited by that momentof fear, which in the telling had become greatly exaggerated. 

It was true that the Queen had never alluded to it; but probablythrough Mrs. Labadie, it had become current that Miss Woodford hadbeen so much alarmed under the churchyard wall that her fancy hadconjured up a phantom and she had given a loud scream, which but forthe mercy of the Saints would have betrayed them all. 

Anne was persuaded that she had done nothing worse than give aninvoluntary start, but it was not of the least use to say so, andshe began to think that perhaps others knew better than she did. Miss Dunord, who had never been more than distantly polite to her inEngland, was of course more thrown with her at St. Germain, andexamined her closely. Who was it? What was it? Had she seen itbefore? It was of no use to deny. Pauline knew she had seensomething on that All Saints' Eve. Was it true that it was a loverof hers, and that she had seen him killed in a duel on her account?Who would have imagined it in cette demoiselle si sage! Would shenot say who it was!

But though truth forced more than one affirmative to be pumped outof Anne, she clung to that last shred of concealment, and kept herown counsel as to the time, place, and persons of the duel, and thusshe so far offended Pauline as to prevent that damsel from havingany scruples in regarding her as an obnoxious and perilous rival, with a dark secret in her life. Certainly Miss Dunord did earnestlyassure her that to adopt her Church, invoke the Saints, and haveMasses for the dead was the only way to lay such ghosts; but Anneremained obdurate, and thus was isolated, for there were very fewProtestants in the fugitive Court, and those were of too high adegree to consort with her. Perhaps that undefined doubt of herdiscretion was against her; perhaps too her education and knowledgeof languages became less useful to the Queen when surrounded byFrench, for she was no longer called upon to act as reader; and thelittle Prince, during his residence in the convent, had time toforget her and lose his preference for her. She was not discharged, but except for taking her turn as a nursery-maid when the Prince wasat St. Germain, she was a mere supernumerary, nor was there anysalary forthcoming. The small amount of money she had with her haddwindled away, and when she applied to Lady Strickland, who waskinder to her than any one else, she was told that the Queen was fartoo much distressed for money wherewith to aid the King to be ableto pay any one, and that they must all wait till the King had hisown again. Her clothes were wearing out, and scarcely in conditionfor attendance on the Prince when he was shown in state to the Kingof France. Worse than all, she seemed entirely cut off from home. She had written several times to her uncle when opportunity seemedto offer, but had never heard from him, and she did not know whetherher letters could reach him, or if he were even aware of what hadbecome of her. People came with passports from England to join theexiled Court, but no one returned thither, or she would even haveoffered herself as a waiting-maid to have a chance of going back. Lady Strickland would have forwarded her, but no means oropportunity offered, and there was nothing for it but to look to thetime that everybody declared to be approaching when the King was tobe reinstated, and they would all go home in triumph. 

Meanwhile Anne Woodford felt herself a supernumerary, treated withcivility, and no more, as she ate her meals with a very feminineCourt, for almost all the gentlemen were in Ireland with the King. She had a room in the entresol to herself, in Pauline's absence, andhere she could in turn sit and dream, or mend and furbish up herclothes--a serious matter now--or read the least scrap of printedmatter in her way, for books were scarcer than even at Whitehall;and though her 'mail' had safely been forwarded by Mr. Labadie, somejealous censor had abstracted her Bible and Prayer-book. Probablythere was no English service anywhere in France at that time, unlessamong the merchants at Bordeaux--certainly neither English norReformed was within her reach--and she had to spend her Sundays inrecalling all she could, and going over it, feeling thankful to themother who had made her store Psalms, Gospels, and Collects in hermemory week by week. 

She was so far forgotten that active attempts to convert her hadbeen dropped, except by Pauline. Perhaps it was thought thatisolation would be effectual, but in fact the sight of popularRomanism not kept in check by Protestant surroundings shocked her, and made her far more averse to change than when she saw it at itsbest at Whitehall. In fine, the end of her ambition had beenneglect and poverty, and the real service that she had rendered wasunacknowledged, and marred by that momentary alarm. No wonder shefelt sore. 

She had never once been to Paris, and seldom beyond the gardens, which happily were free in the absence of the Queen, and always hadsecluded corners apart from the noble terraces, safe from theintrusion of idle gallants. Anne had found a sort of bower of herown, shaded by honeysuckles and wild roses, where she could sitlooking over the slopes and the windings of the Seine and indulgeher musings and longings. 

The lonely life brought before her all the anxieties that had beenstifled for the time by the agitations of the escape. Again andagain she lived over the scene in the ruins. Again and again sherecalled those two strange appearances, and shivering at the thoughtof the anniversary that was approaching in another month, still feltsometimes that, alive or dead, Peregrine's would be a home face, andframed to herself imaginary scenes in which she addressed him, anddemanded whether he could not rest in his unhallowed grave. Whatwould Bishop Ken say? Sometimes even she recollected the strangetheory which had made him crave execution from the late King, sevenyears, yes, a little more than seven years ago, and marvel whetherat that critical epoch he had indeed between life and death beensnatched away to his native land of faery. Imagination might wellrun riot in the solitary, unoccupied condition to which she wasreduced; and she also brooded much over the fragments of doubtfulnews which reached her. 

Something was said of all loyal clergy being expelled andpersecuted, and this of course suggested those sufferings of theclergy during the Commonwealth, of which she had often heard, makingher very anxious about her uncle, and earnestly long for wings tofly to him. The Archfields too! Had Charles returned, and did thatsecret press upon him as it did upon her? Did Lucy think herselfutterly forgotten and cast aside, receiving no word or message fromher friend? "Perhaps, " thought Anne, "they fancy me sailing aboutat Court in silks and satins, jewels and curls, and forgetting themall, as I remember Lucy said I should when she first heard that Iwas going to Whitehall. Nay, and I even took pleasure in thepicture of myself so decked out, though I never, never meant toforget her. Foolish, worse than foolish, that I was! And to thinkthat I might now be safe and happy with good Lady Russell, near myuncle and all of them. I could almost laugh to think how my finenotions of making my fortune have ended in sitting here, neglected, forgotten, banished, almost in rags! I suppose it was all self-seeking, and that I must take it meekly as no more than I deserve. But oh, how different! how different is this captivity! 'Oh that Ihad wings like a dove, for then would I flee away, and be at rest. 'Swallow, swallow! you are sweeping through the air. Would that myspirit could fly like you! if only for one glimpse to tell me whatthey are doing. Ah! there's some one coming down this unfrequentedwalk, where I thought myself safe. A young gentleman! I must riseand go as quietly as I can before he sees me. Nay, " as the actionfollowing the impulse, she was gathering up her work, "'tis an oldabbe with him! no fear! Abbe? Nay, 'tis liker to an Englishclergyman! Can a banished one have strayed hither? The younger manis in mourning. Could it be? No graver, older, more manly--Oh!"

"Anne! Anne! We have found you!"

"Mr. Archfield! You!"

And as Charles Archfield, in true English fashion, kissed her cheek, Anne fairly choked with tears of joy, and she ever after rememberedthat moment as the most joyful of her life, though the joy wasalmost agony. 

"This is Mistress Anne Woodford, sir, " said Charles, the nextmoment. "Allow me, madam, to present Mr. Fellowes, of MagdalenCollege. "

Anne held out her hand, and courtesied in response to the bow andwave of the shovel hat. 

"How did you know that I was here?" she said. 

"Doctor Woodford thought it likely, and begged us to come and seewhether we could do anything for you, " said Charles; "and you maybelieve that we were only too happy to do so. A lady to whom we hadletters, who is half English, the Vicomtesse de Bellaise, was sogood as to go to the convent at Poissy and discover for us from someof the suite where you were. "

"My uncle--my dear uncle--is he well?"

"Quite well, when last we heard, " said Charles. "That was atFlorence, nearly a month ago. "

"And all at Fareham, are they well?"

"All just as usual, " said Charles, "at the last hearing, which wasat the same time. I hoped to have met letters at Paris, but nodoubt the war prevents the mails from running. "

"Ah! I have never had a single letter, " said Anne. "Did my uncleknow anything of me? Has he never had one of mine?"

"Up to the time when he wrote, last March, that is to say, he hadreceived nothing. He had gone to London to make inquiries--"

"Ah! my dear good uncle!"

"And had ascertained that you had been chosen to accompany the Queenand Prince in their escape from Whitehall. You have played theheroine, Miss Anne. "

"Oh! if you knew--"

"And, " said Mr. Fellowes, "both he and Sir Philip Archfieldrequested us, if we could make our way home through Paris, to comeand offer our services to Mistress Woodford, in case she should wishto send intelligence to England, or if she should wish to make useof our escort to return home. "

"Oh sir! oh sir! how can I thank you enough! You cannot guess thehappiness you have brought me, " cried Anne with clasped hands, tearswelling up again. 

"You _will_ come with us then, " cried Charles. "I am sure youought. They have not used you well, Anne; how pale and thin youhave grown. "

"That is only pining! I am quite well, only home-sick, " she saidwith a smile. "I am sure the Queen will let me go. I am nothingbut a burthen now. She has plenty of her own people, and they donot like a Protestant about the Prince. "

"There is Madame de Bellaise, " said Mr. Fellowes, "advancing alongthe walk with Lady Powys. Let me present you to her. "

"You have succeeded, I see, " a kind voice said, as Anne foundherself making her courtesy to a tall and stately old lady, with amass of hair of the peculiar silvered tint of flaxen mixed withwhite. 

"I am sincerely glad, " said Lady Powys, "that Miss Woodford has mether friends. "

"Also, " said Madame de Bellaise, "Lady Powys is good enough to saythat if mademoiselle will honour me with a visit, she givespermission for her to return with me to Paris. "

This was still greater joy, except for that one recollection, formidable in the midst of her joy, of her dress. Did Madame deBellaise divine something? for she said, "These times remind me ofmy youth, when we poor cavalier families well knew what sore straitswere. If mademoiselle will bring what is most needful, the rest canbe sent afterwards. "

Making her excuses for the moment, Anne with light and gladsome footsped along the stately alley, up the stairs to her chamber, roundwhich she looked much as if it had been a prison cell, fell on herknees in a gush of intense thankfulness, and made her rapidpreparations, her hands trembling with joy, and a fear that shemight wake to find all again a dream. She felt as if thisdeliverance were a token of forgiveness for her past wilfulness, andas if hope were opened to her once more. Lady Powys met her as shecame down, and spoke very kindly, thanking her for her services, andhoping that she would enjoy the visit she was about to make. 

"Does your ladyship think Her Majesty will require me any longer?"asked Anne timidly. 

"If you wish to return to the country held by the Prince of Orange, "said the Countess coldly, "you must apply for dismissal to HerMajesty herself. "

Anne perceived from the looks of her friends that it was no time fordiscussing her loyalty, and all taking leave, she was soon seatedbeside Madame de Bellaise, while the coach and four rolled down themagnificent avenue, and scene after scene disappeared, beautiful andstately indeed, but which she was as glad to leave behind her as ifthey had been the fetters and bars of a dungeon, and she almostwondered at the words of admiration of her companions. 

Madame de Bellaise sat back, and begged the others to speak English, saying that it was her mother tongue, and she loved the sound of it, but really trying to efface herself, while the eager conversationbetween the two young people went on about their homes. 

Charles had not been there more recently than Anne, and his letterswere at least two months old, but the intelligence in them was aswater to her thirsty soul. All was well, she heard, including thelittle heir of Archfield, though the young father coloured a little, and shuffled over the answers to the inquiries with a rather sadsmile. Charles was, however, greatly improved. He had left behindhim the loutish, unformed boy, and had become a handsome, courteous, well-mannered gentleman. The very sight of him handing Madame deBellaise in and out of her coach was a wonder in itself when Annerecollected how he had been wont to hide himself in the shrubbery toprevent being called upon for such services, and how uncouthly inthe last extremity he would perform them. 

Madame de Bellaise was inhabiting her son's great Hotel deNidemerle. He was absent in garrison, and she was presiding overthe family of grandchildren, their mother being in bad health. Somuch Anne heard before she was conducted to a pleasant littlebedroom, far more home-like and comfortable than in any of thepalaces she had inhabited. It opened into another, whence merryyoung voices were heard. 

"That is the apartment of my sister's youngest daughter, " saidMadame de Bellaise, "Noemi Darpent. I borrowed her for a littlewhile to teach her French and dancing, but now that we are gone towar, they want to have her back again, and it will be well that sheshould avail herself of the same escort as yourself. All will thenbe selon les convenances, which had been a difficulty to me, " sheadded with a laugh. 

Then opening the door of communication she said; "Here, Noemi, wehave found your countrywoman, and I put her under your care. Ah!you two chattering little pies, I knew the voices were yours. Thisis my granddaughter, Marguerite de Nidemerle, and my niece--a lamode de Bretagne--Cecile d'Aubepine, all bestowing their chatter ontheir cousin. "

Noemi Darpent was a tall, fair, grave-faced maiden, some years overtwenty, and so thoroughly English that it warmed Anne's heart tolook at her, and the other two were bright little Frenchwomen--Marguerite a pretty blonde, Cecile pale, dark, and sallow, but fullof life. Both were at the age at which girls were usually inconvents, but as Anne learnt, Madame de Bellaise was too English atheart to give up the training of her grandchildren, and she had anEnglish governess for them, daughter to a Romanist cavalier ruinedby sequestration. 

She was evidently the absolute head of the family. Her daughter-in-law was a delicate little creature, who scarcely seemed able to bearthe noise of the family at the long supper-table, when all talkedwith shrill French voices, from the two youths and their abbe tutordown to the little four-year-old Lolotte in her high chair. But toAnne, after the tedious formality of the second table at the palace, stiff without refinement, this free family life was perfectlydelightful and refreshing, though as yet she was too much cramped, as it were, by long stiffness, silence, and treatment as an inferiorto join, except by the intelligent dancing of her brown eyes, andreplies when directly addressed. 

After Mrs. Labadie's homeliness, Pauline's exclusive narrowness, Jane's petty frivolity, Hester's vulgar worldliness, and the generalwant of cultivation in all who treated her on an equality, it waslike returning to rational society; and she could not but observethat Mr. Archfield altogether held his own in conversation with therest, whether in French or English. Little more than a year ago hewould hardly have opened his mouth, and would have worn the truebumpkin look of contemptuous sheepishness. Now he laughed and madeothers laugh as readily and politely as--Ah! With whom was shecomparing him? Did the thought of poor Peregrine dwell on his mindas it did upon hers? But perhaps things were not so terrible to aman as to a woman, and he had not seen those apparitions! Indeed, when not animated, she detected a certain thoughtful melancholy onhis brow which certainly had not belonged to former times. 

Mr. Fellowes early made known to Anne that her uncle had asked himto be her banker, and the first care of her kind hostess was toassist her in supplying the deficiencies of her wardrobe, so thatshe was able to go abroad without shrinking at her own shabbyappearance. 

The next thing was to take her to Poissy to request her dismissalfrom the Queen, without which it would be hardly decorous to depart, though in point of fact, in the present state of affairs, as Noemisaid, there was nothing to prevent it. 

"No, " said Mr. Fellowes; "but for that reason Miss Woodford wouldfeel bound to show double courtesy to the discrowned Queen. "

"And she has often been very kind to me--I love her much, " saidAnne. 

"Noemi is a little Whig, " said Madame de Bellaise. "I shall nottake her with us, because I know her father would not like it, butto me it is only like the days of my youth to visit an exiled queen. Will these gentlemen think fit to be of the party?"

"Thank you, madam, not I, " said the Magdalen man. "I am very sorryfor the poor lady, but my college has suffered too much at herhusband's hands for me to be very anxious to pay her my respects;and if my young friend will take my advice, neither will he. Itmight be bringing his father into trouble. "

To this Charles agreed, so M. L'Abbe undertook to show them thepictures at the Louvre, and Anne and Madame de Bellaise were theonly occupants of the carriage that conveyed them to the great oldconvent of Poissy, the girl enjoying by the way the comfort of thekindness of a motherly woman, though even to her there could be noconfiding of the terrible secret that underlay all her thoughts. Madame de Bellaise, however, said how glad she was to secure thiscompanionship for her niece. Noemi had been more attached than herfamily realised to Claude Merrycourt, a neighbour who had had thefolly, contrary to her prudent father's advice, to rush intoMonmouth's rebellion, and it had only been by the poor girl's agonywhen he suffered under the summary barbarities of Kirke that hermother had known how much her heart was with him. The depression ofspirits and loss of health that ensued had been so alarming thatwhen Madame de Bellaise, after some months, paid a long visit to hersister in England, Mrs. Darpent had consented to send the girl tomake acquaintance with her French relations, and try the effect ofchange of scene. She had gone, indifferent, passive, and broken-hearted, but her aunt had watched over her tenderly, and she hadgradually revived, not indeed into a joyous girl, but into a calmand fairly cheerful woman. 

When she had left home, France and England were only too closelyconnected, but now they were at daggers drawn, and probably would beso for many years, and the Revolution had come so suddenly thatMadame de Bellaise had not been able to make arrangements for herniece's return home, and Noemi was anxiously waiting for anopportunity of rejoining her parents. 

The present plan was this. Madame de Bellaise's son, the Marquis deNidemerle, was Governor of Douai, where his son, the young Baron deRibaumont, with his cousin, the Chevalier d'Aubepine, were to joinhim with their tutor, the Abbe Leblanc. The war on the Flemishfrontier was not just then in an active state, and there were oftenfriendly relations between the commandants of neighbouringgarrisons, so that it might be possible to pass a party on to theSpanish territory with a flag of truce, and then the way would beeasy. This passing, however, would be impossible for Noemi alone, since etiquette would not permit of her thus travelling with the twoyoung gentlemen, nor could she have proceeded after reaching Douai, so that the arrival of the two Englishmen and the company of MissWoodford was a great boon. Madame de Bellaise had alreadydespatched a courier to ask her son whether he could undertake thetransit across the frontier, and hoped to apply for passports assoon as his answer was received. She told Anne her niece's historyto prevent painful allusions on the journey. 

"Ah, madame!" said Anne, "we too have a sad day connected with thatunfortunate insurrection. We grieved over Lady Lisle, and burntwith indignation. "

"M. Barillon tells me that her judge, the Lord Chancellor, wasactually forced to commit himself to the Tower to escape being tornto pieces by the populace, and it is since reported that he hasthere died of grief and shame. I should think his prison cell musthave been haunted by hundreds of ghosts. "

"I pray you, madame! do you believe that there are apparitions?"

"I have heard of none that were not explained by some accident, orelse were the produce of an excited brain;" and Anne said no more onthat head, though it was a comfort to tell of her own foolishpreference for the chances of Court preferment above the security ofLady Russell's household, and Madame de Bellaise smiled, and saidher experience of Courts had not been too agreeable. 

And thus they reached Poissy, where Queen Mary Beatrice had separaterooms set apart for visitors, and thus did not see them from behindthe grating, but face to face. 

"You wish to leave me, signorina, " she said, using the appellationof their more intimate days, as Anne knelt to kiss her hand. "Icannot wonder. A poor exile has nothing wherewith to reward thefaithful. "

"Ah! your Majesty, that is not the cause; if I were of any use toyou or to His Royal Highness. "

"True, signorina; you have been faithful and aided me to the best ofyour power in my extremity, but while you will not embrace the truefaith I cannot keep you about the person of my son as he becomesmore intelligent. Therefore it may be well that you should leaveus, until such time as we shall be recalled to our kingdom, when Ihope to reward you more suitably. You loved my son, and he lovedyou--perhaps you would like to bid him farewell. "

For this Anne was very grateful, and the Prince was sent for by themother, who was too proud of him to miss any opportunity ofexhibiting him to an experienced mother and grandmother like thevicomtesse. He was a year old, and had become a very beautifulchild, with large dark eyes like his mother's, and when Mrs. Labadiecarried him in, he held out his arms to Anne with a cry of gladrecognition that made her feel that if she could have been allowedthe charge of him she could hardly have borne to part with him. Andwhen the final leave-taking came, the Queen made his little handpresent her with a little gold locket, containing his soft hair, with a J in seed pearls outside, in memory, said Mary Beatrice, ofthat night beneath the church wall. 

"Ah, yes, you had your moment of fear, but we were all in terror, and you hushed him well. "

Thus with another kiss to the white hand, returned on her ownforehead, ended Anne Jacobina's Court life. Never would she beJacobina again--always Anne or sweet Nancy! It was refreshing to beso called, when Charles Archfield let the name slip out, thenblushed and apologised, while she begged him to resume it, which hewas now far too correct to do in public. Noemi quite readilyadopted it. 

"I am tired of fine French names, " she said: "an English voice isquite refreshing; and do you call me Naomi, not Noemi. I did notmind it so much at first, because my father sometimes called me so, after his good old mother, who was bred a Huguenot, but it is likethe first step towards home to hear Naomi--Little Omy, as mybrothers used to shout over the stairs. "

That was a happy fortnight. Madame de Bellaise said it would be ashame to let Anne have spent a half year in France and have seennothing, so she took the party to the theatre, where they saw theCid with extreme delight. She regretted that the season was so faradvanced that the winter representations of Esther, at St. Cyr bythe young ladies, were over, but she invited M. Racine for anevening, when Mr. Fellowes took extreme pleasure in hisconversation, and he was prevailed on to read some of the scenes. She also used her entree at Court to enable them to see thefountains at Versailles, which Winchester was to have surpassed butfor King Charles's death. 

"Just as well otherwise, " remarked Charles to Anne. "These finefeathers and flowers of spray are beautiful enough in themselves, but give me the clear old Itchen not tortured into playing tricks, with all the trout killed; and the open down instead of all theseterraces and marble steps where one feels as cramped as if it were aperpetual minuet. And look at the cost! Ah! you will know what Imean when we travel through the country. "

Another sight was from a gallery, whence they beheld the King eathis dinner alone at a silver-loaded table, and a lengthy ceremony itwas. Four plates of soup to begin with, a whole capon with ham, followed by a melon, mutton, salad, garlic, pate de foie gras, fruit, and confitures. Charles really grew so indignant, that, inspite of his newly-acquired politeness, Anne, who knew hiscountenance, was quite glad when she saw him safe out of hearing. 

"The old glutton!" he said; "I should like to put him on a diet ofbuckwheat and sawdust like his poor peasants for a week, and thensee whether he would go on gormandising, with his wars and hisbuildings, starving his poor. It is almost enough to make a Whig ofa man to see what we might have come to. How can you bear it, madame?"

"Alas! we are powerless, " said the Vicomtesse. "A seigneur can dolittle for his people, but in Anjou we have some privileges, and ourpeasants are better off than those you have seen, though indeed Igrieved much for them when first I came among them from England. "

She was perhaps the less sorry that Paris was nearly emptied offashionable society since her guest had the less chance of utteringdangerous sentiments before those who might have repeated them, andmuch as she liked him, she was relieved when letters came from herson undertaking to expedite them on their way provided they madehaste to forestall any outbreak of the war in that quarter. 

Meantime Naomi and Anne had been drawn much nearer together by acommon interest. The door between their rooms having someimperfection in the latch swung open as they were preparing for bed, and Anne was aware of a sound of sobbing, and saw one of the white-capped, short-petticoated femmes de chambre kneeling at Naomi'sfeet, ejaculating, "Oh, take me! take me, mademoiselle! Madame isan angel of goodness, but I cannot go on living a lie. I shall dosomething dreadful. "

"Poor Suzanne! poor Suzanne!" Naomi was answering: "I will do whatI can, I will see if it is possible--"

They started at the sound of the step, Suzanne rising to her feet interror, but Naomi, signing to Anne and saying, "It is onlyMademoiselle Woodford, a good Protestant, Suzanne. Go now; I willsee what can be done; I know my aunt would like to send a maid withus. "

Then as Suzanne went out with her apron to her eyes, and Anne wouldhave apologised, she said, "Never mind; I must have told you, andasked your help. Poor Suzanne, she is one of the Rotrous, an oldrace of Huguenot peasants whom my aunt always protected; she wouldprotect any one, but these people had a special claim because theysheltered our great-grandmother, Lady Walwyn, when she fled afterthe S. Barthelemi. When the Edict of Nantes was revoked, the twobrothers fled. I believe she helped them, and they got on boardship, and brought a token to my father; but the old mother wasfeeble and imbecile, and could not move, and the monks and thedragoons frightened and harassed this poor wench into what theycalled conforming. When the mother died, my aunt took Suzanne andtaught her, and thought she was converted; and indeed if all Papistswere like my aunt it would not be so hard to become one. "

"Oh yes! I know others like that. "

"But this poor Suzanne, knowing that she only was converted out ofterror, has always had an uneasy conscience, and the sight of me hasstirred up everything. She says, though I do not know if it betrue, that she was fast drifting into bad habits, when finding myBible, though it was English and she could not read it, seems tohave revived everything, and recalled the teaching of her good oldfather and pastor, and now she is wild to go to England with us. "

"You will take her?" exclaimed Anne. 

"Of course I will. Perhaps that is what I was sent here for. Iwill ask her of my aunt, and I think she will let me have her. Youwill keep her secret, Anne. "

"Indeed I will. "

Madame de Bellaise granted Suzanne to her niece without difficulty, evidently guessing the truth, but knowing the peril of the situationtoo well to make any inquiry. Perhaps she was disappointed that herendeavours to win the girl to her Church had been ineffectual, butto have any connection with one 'relapsed' was so exceedinglyperilous that she preferred to ignore the whole subject, and merelylet it be known that Suzanne was to accompany Mademoiselle Darpent, and this was only disclosed to the household on the very lastmorning, after the passports had been procured and the mails packed, and she hushed any remark of the two English girls in such a decidedmanner as quite startled them by the manifest need of caution. 

"We should have come to that if King James were still allowed tohave his own way, " said Naomi. 

"Oh no! we are too English, " said Anne. 

"Our generation might not see it, " said Naomi; "but who can be safewhen a Popish king can override law? Oh, I shall breathe morefreely when I am on the other side of the Channel. My aunt is muchtoo good for this place, and they don't approve of her, and keep herdown. "

CHAPTER XXII: REVENANTS

"But soft, behold! lo, where it comes again!I'll cross it, though it blast me. "

Hamlet. 

Floods of tears were shed at the departure of the two young officersof sixteen and seventeen. The sobs of the household made theEnglish party feel very glad when it was over and the cavalcade wasin motion. A cavalcade it was, for each gentleman rode and so didhis body-servant, and each horse had a mounted groom. The two youngofficers had besides each two chargers, requiring a groom and horseboy, and each conducted half a dozen fresh troopers to join thearmy. A coach was the regulation mode of travelling for ladies, butboth the English girls had remonstrated so strongly that Madame deBellaise had consented to their riding, though she took them andSuzanne the first day's journey well beyond the ken of the Parisiansin her own carriage, as far as Senlis, where there was a freshparting with the two lads, fewer tears, and more counsel andencouragement, with many fond messages to her son, many to hersister in England, and with affectionate words to her niece awhisper to her to remember that she would not be in a Protestantcountry till she reached Holland or England. 

The last sight they had of the tall dignified figure of the old ladywas under the arch of the cathedral, where she was going to pray fortheir safety. Suzanne was to ride on a pillion behind the Swissvalet of Mr. Fellowes, whom Naomi had taken into her confidence, andthe two young ladies each mounted a stout pony. Mr. Fellowes hadmade friends with the Abbe Leblanc, who was of the old Gallicantype, by no means virulently set against Anglicanism, and also ahighly cultivated man, so that they had many subjects in common, besides the question of English Catholicity. The two young cousins, Ribaumont and D'Aubepine, were chiefly engaged in looking out forsport, setting their horses to race with one another, and the like, in which Charles Archfield sometimes took a share, but he usuallyrode with the two young ladies, and talked to them very pleasantlyof his travels in Italy, the pictures and antiquities which had madeinto an interesting reality the studies that he had hated when aboy, also the condition of the country he had seen with a mind whichseemed to have opened and enlarged with a sudden start beyond theinterests of the next fox-hunt or game at bowls. All were, as hehad predicted, greatly shocked at the aspect of the country throughwhich they passed: the meagre crops ripening for harvest, the hay-carts, sometimes drawn by an equally lean cow and woman, the haggardwomen bearing heavy burthens, and the ragged, barefooted childrenleading a wretched cow or goat to browse by the wayside, the gauntmen toiling at road-mending with their poor starved horses, or attheir seigneur's work, alike unpaid, even when drawn off from theirown harvests. And in the villages the only sound buildings were thechurch and presbytere by its side, the dwellings being miserablehovels, almost sunk into the earth, an old crone or two, marvels ofskinniness, spinning at the door, or younger women making lace, andnearly naked children rushing out to beg. Sometimes the pepper-boxturrets of a chateau could be seen among distant woods, or the wallsof a cloister, with a taper spire in the midst, among greenerfields; and the towns were approached through long handsome avenues, and their narrow streets had a greater look of prosperity, whiletheir inns, being on the way to the place of warfare, were almostluxurious, with a choice of dainty meats and good wines. Everywhereelse was misery, and Naomi said it was the vain endeavour to reformthe source of these grievances that had forced her father to becomean exile from his native country, and that he had much apprehendedthat the same blight might gradually be brought over his adoptedland, on which Charles stood up for the constitution, and for theresolute character of Englishmen, and Anne, as in duty bound, forthe good intentions of her godfather. Thus they argued, and Annenot only felt herself restored to the company of rational beings, but greatly admired Charles's sentiments and the ability with whichhe put them forward, and now and then the thought struck her, andwith a little twinge of pain of which she was ashamed, would NaomiDarpent be the healer of the wound nearly a year old, and find inhim consolation for the hero of her girlhood? Somehow there wouldbe a sense of disappointment in them both if so it were. 

At length the spires and towers of Douai came in sight, fenced in bystern lines of fortification according to the science of Vauban--smooth slopes of glacis, with the terrible muzzles of cannon peepingout on the summits of the ramparts, and the line of salient angleand ravelin with the moat around, beautiful though formidable. TheMarquis de Nidemerle had sent a young officer and sergeant's partyto meet the travellers several miles off, and bring themunquestioned through the outposts of the frontier town, so closelywatched in this time of war, and at about half a mile from the gateshe himself, with a few attendants, rode out all glittering andclanking in their splendid uniforms and accoutrements. He doffedhis hat with the heavy white plume, and bowed his greeting to theladies and clergymen, but both the young Frenchmen, after a militarysalute, hastily dismounted and knelt on one knee, while he sprangfrom his horse, and then, making the sign of the Cross over his son, raised him, and folding him in his arms pressed him to his breastand kissed him on each cheek, not without tears, then repeated thesame greeting with young D'Aubepine. He then kissed the hand of hisbelle cousine, whom, of course, he knew already, and bowed almost tothe ground on being presented to Mademoiselle Woodford, a littleless low to Monsieur Archfield, who was glad the embracing was notto be repeated, politely received Mr. Fellowes, and honoured thedomestic abbe with a kindly word and nod. The gradation wasamusing, and he was a magnificent figure, with his noble horse andgrand military dress, while his fine straight features, sunburntthough naturally fair, and his tall, powerful frame, well became hissurroundings--'a true white Ribaumont, ' as Naomi said, as she lookedat the long fair hair drawn back and tied with ribbon. "He is justlike the portrait of our great-grandfather who was almost killed onthe S. Barthelemi!" However, Naomi had no more time to talk _of_him, for he rode by her side inquiring for his mother, wife, andchildren, but carefully doing the honours to the stranger lady andgentleman. 

Moat and drawbridge there were at Portsmouth, and a sentry at theentrance, but here there seemed endless guards, moats, bridges, andgates, and there was a continual presenting of arms andacknowledging of salutes as the commandant rode in with thetravellers. It was altogether a very new experience in life. Theywere lodged in the governor's quarters in the fortress, where theaccommodation for ladies was of the slenderest, and M. De Nidemerlemade many apologies, though he had evidently given up his ownsleeping chamber to the two ladies, who would have to squeeze intohis narrow camp-bed, with Suzanne on the floor, and the last was toremain there entirely, there being no woman with whom she could haveher meals. The ladies were invited to sup with the staff, andwould, as M. De Nidemerle assured them, be welcomed with thegreatest delight. So Naomi declared that they must make theirtoilette do as much justice as possible to their country; and thoughfull dress was not attainable, they did their best with ribbons andlaces, and the arrangement of her fair locks and Anne's brown ones, when Suzanne proved herself an adept; the ladies meantime finding nosmall amusement in the varieties of swords, pistols, spurs, andother accoutrements, for which the marquis had apologised, thoughNaomi told him that they were the fittest ornaments possible. 

"And my cousin Gaspard is a really good man, " she said, indicatingto her friend the little shrine with holy-water stoup, ivorycrucifix, print of the Madonna, two or three devotional books, andthe miniatures of mother, wife, and children hung not far off; alsoof two young cavaliers, one of whom Naomi explained to be the youngfather whom Gaspard could not recollect, the other, that of theuncle Eustace, last Baron Walwyn and Ribaumont, of whom her ownmother talked with such passionate affection, and whose example hadalways been a guiding star to the young marquis. 

He came to their door to conduct them down to supper, giving his armto Miss Woodford as the greatest stranger, while Miss Darpent wasconducted by a resplendent ducal colonel. The supper-room was infestal guise, hung round with flags, and the table adorned withflowers; a band was playing, and never had either Anne or Naomi beenmade so much of. All were eagerly talking, Charles especially so, and Anne thought, with a thrill, "Did he recollect that this was thevery anniversary of that terrible 1st of July?"

It was a beautiful summer evening, and the supper taking place atfive o'clock there was a considerable time to spare afterwards, sothat M. De Nidemerle proposed to show the strangers the place, andthe view from the ramparts. 

"In my company you can see all well, " he said, "but otherwise theremight be doubts and jealousies. "

He took them through the narrow Flemish streets of tall houses withprojecting upper stories, and showed them that seminary which waspopularly supposed in England to be the hotbed of truculent plots, but where they only saw a quiet academic cloister and an exquisitegarden, green turf, roses and white lilies in full perfection, andstudents flitting about in cassocks and square caps, more like anOxford scene, as Mr. Fellowes said, than anything he had yet seen. He was joined by an English priest from his own originalneighbourhood. The Abbe Leblanc found another acquaintance, andthese two accompanied their friends to the ramparts. The marquishad a great deal to hear from his cousin about his home, and thus ithappened that Charles Archfield and Anne found themselves morepractically alone together than they had yet been. As they lookedat the view over the country, he told her of a conversation that hehad had with an officer now in the French army, but who had servedin the Imperial army against the Turks, and that he had obtainedmuch useful information. 

"Useful?" asked Anne. 

"Yes. I have been watching for the moment to tell you, Anne; I haveresolved what to do. I intend to make a few campaigns there againstthe enemy of Christendom. "

"O Mr. Archfield!" was all she could say. 

"See here, I have perceived plainly that to sink down into my lady'seldest son is no wholesome life for a man with all his powers abouthim. I understand now what a set of oafs we were to despise thepoor fellow you wot of, because he was not such a lubber asourselves. I have no mind to go through the like. "

"You are so different; it could not be the same. "

"Not quite; but remember there is nothing for me to do. My fatheris still an active man, and I am not old enough to take my part inpublic affairs, even if I loved greatly either the Prince of Orangeor King James. I could not honestly draw my sword for either. Ihave no estate to manage, my child's inheritance is all in money, and it would drive me mad, or worse, to go home to be idle. No; Iwill fight against the common enemy till I have made me a name, andwon reputation and standing; or if I should not come back, there'sthe babe at home to carry on the line. "

"Oh, sir! your father and mother--Lucy--all that love you. Whatwill they say?"

"It would only put them to needless pain to ask them. I shall not. I shall write explaining all my motives--all except one, and thatyou alone know, Anne. "

She shuddered a little, and felt him press her arm tightly. Theyhad fallen a good deal behind the marquis and his cousin, and weredescending as twilight fell into a narrow, dark, lonely street, withall the houses shut up. "No one has guessed, have they?" shefaltered. 

"Not that I know of. But I cannot--no! I can_not_ go home, to havethat castle near me, and that household at Oakwood. I see enough inmy dreams without that. "

"See! Ah, yes!"

"Then, Anne, you have suffered then too--guiltless as you are inkeeping my terrible secret! I have often thought and marvelledwhether it were so with you. "

She was about to tell him what she had seen, when he began, "Thereis one thing in this world that would sweeten and renew my life--andthat?"

Her heart was beating violently at what was so suddenly coming onher, when at that instant Charles broke off short with "GoodHeavens! What's that?"

On the opposite side of the street, where one of the many churchesstood some way back, making an opening, there was a figure, essentially the same that Anne had seen at Lambeth, but bare-headed, clad apparently in something long and white, and with a pale bluishlight on the ghastly but unmistakable features. 

She uttered a faint gasping cry scarcely audible, Charles's impulsewas to exclaim, "Man or spirit, stand!" and drawing his sword torush across the street; but in that second all had vanished, and heonly struck against closed doors, which he shook, but could notopen. 

"Mr. Archfield! Oh, come back! I have seen it before, " entreatedAnne; and he strode back, with a gesture of offering her support, and trembling, she clung to his arm. "It does not hurt, " she said. "It comes and goes--"

"You have seen it before!"

"Twice. "

No more could be said, for through the gloom the white plume andgold-laced uniform of the marquis were seen. He had missed them, and come back to look for them, beginning to apologise. 

"I am confounded at having left Mademoiselle behind. --Comment!"--asthe sound betrayed that Charles was sheathing his sword. "I trustthat Monsieur has met with no unpleasant adventure from my people. "

"Oh, no, Monsieur, " was the answer, as he added--

"One can never be sure as to these fiery spirits towards anEnglishman in the present state of feeling, and I blame myselfextremely for having permitted myself to lose sight of Monsieur andMademoiselle. "

"Indeed, sir, we have met with no cause of complaint, " said Charles, adding as if casually, "What is that church?"

"'Tis the Jesuits' Church, " replied the governor. "There is thebest preaching in the town, they say, and Jansenists as we are, Iwas struck with the Lenten course. "

Anne went at once to her room on returning to the house. Naomi, whowas there already, exclaimed at her paleness, and insisted onadministering a glass of wine from what the English called the reresupper, the French an encas, the substantial materials for which hadbeen left in the chamber. Then Anne felt how well it had been forher that her fellows at the palace had been so uncongenial, for shecould hardly help disclosing to Naomi the sight she had seen, andthe half-finished words she had heard. It was chiefly the feelingthat she could not bear Naomi to know of the blood on Charles's handwhich withheld her in her tumult of feeling, and made her onlyentreat, "Do not ask me, I cannot tell you. " And Naomi, who wassome years older, and had had her own sad experience, guessedperhaps at one cause for her agitation, and spared her inquiries, though as Anne, tired out by the long day, and forced by their closequarters to keep herself still, dropped asleep, strange mutteringsfell from her lips about "The vault--the blood--come back. There heis. The secret has risen to forbid. O, poor Peregrine!"

Between the July heat, the narrow bed, and the two chamber fellows, Anne had little time to collect her thoughts, except for the generalimpression that if Charles finished what he had begun to say, theliving and the dead alike must force her to refuse, though somethingwithin foreboded that this would cost her more than she yet durstperceive, and her heart was ready to spring forth and enclose him asit were in an embrace of infinite tenderness, above all when shethought of his purpose of going to those fearful Hungarian wars. 

But after the hot night, it was a great relief to prepare for anearly start. M. De Nidemerle had decided on sending the travellersto Tournay, the nearest Spanish town, on the Scheldt, since he hadsome acquaintance with the governor, and when no campaign wasactually on foot the courtesies of generous enemies passed betweenthem. He had already sent an intimation of his intention offorwarding an English kinswoman of his own with her companions, andbespoken the good offices of his neighbour, and they were now to setoff in very early morning under the escort of a flag of truce, atrumpeter, and a party of troopers, commanded by an experienced oldofficer with white moustaches and the peaked beard of the lastgeneration, contrasting with a face the colour of walnut wood. 

The marquis himself and his son, however, rode with the travellersfor their first five miles, through a country where the rich greenof the natural growth showed good soil, all enamelled with flowersand corn crops run wild; but the villages looked deserted, theremains of burnt barns and houses were frequent, and all along thatfrontier, it seemed as if no peaceful inhabitants ventured tosettle, and only brigands often rendered such by misery might prowlabout. The English party felt as if they had never understood whatwar could be. 

However, in a melancholy orchard run wild, under the shade of anapple-tree laden with young fruit, backed by a blackened gable halfconcealed by a luxuriant untrimmed vine, the avant couriers of thecommandant had cleared a space in the rank grass, and spread amorning meal, of cold pate, fowl and light wines, in which theFrench officers drank to the good journey of their friends, and thenwhen the horses had likewise had their refreshment the parting tookplace with much affection between the cousins. The young Ribaumontaugured that they should meet again when he had to protect Noemi ina grand descent on Dorsetshire in behalf of James, and she merrilyshook her fist at him and defied him, and his father allowed thatthey were a long way from that. 

M. De Nidemerle hinted to Mr. Archfield that nobody could tell himmore about the war with the Turks than M. Le Capitaine Delaune, whowas, it appeared, a veteran Swiss who had served in almost everyarmy in Europe, and thus could give information by no means to beneglected. So that, to Anne's surprise and somewhat to hermortification, since she had no knowledge of the cause, she sawCharles riding apart with this wooden old veteran, who sat asupright as a ramrod on his wiry-looking black horse, leaving her tothe company of Naomi and Mr. Fellowes. Did he really wish not topursue the topic which had brought Peregrine from his grave? Itwould of course be all the better, but it cost her some terriblepangs to think so. 

There were far more formalities and delays before the travellerscould cross the Tournay bridge across the Scheldt. They werebrought to a standstill a furlong off, and had to wait while thetrumpeter rode forward with the white flag, and the message wasreferred to the officer on guard, while a sentry seemed to bewatching over them. Then the officer came to the gateway of thebridge, and Captain Delaune rode forward to him, but there was stilla long weary waiting in the sun before he came back, after havingshown their credentials to the governor, and then he was accompaniedby a Flemish officer, who, with much courtesy, took them under hischarge, and conducted them through all the defences, over thebridge, and to the gate where their baggage had to be closelyexamined. Naomi had her Bible in her bosom, or it would not haveescaped; Anne heartily wished she had used the same precaution onher flight from England, but she had not, like her friend, beenwarned beforehand. 

When within the city there was more freedom, and the Flemingconducted the party to an inn, where, unlike English inns, theycould not have a parlour to themselves, but had to take their mealsin common with other guests at a sort of table d'hote, and theladies had no refuge but their bedroom, where the number of beds didnot promise privacy. An orderly soon arrived with an invitation toDon Carlos Arcafila to sup with the Spanish governor, and of coursethe invitation could not be neglected. The ladies walked about alittle in the town with Mr. Fellowes, looking without appreciationat the splendid five-towered cathedral, but recollecting with dueEnglish pride that the place had been conquered by Henry VIII. Thence they were to make for Ostend, where they were certain offinding a vessel bound for England. 

It was a much smaller party that set forth from Tournay than fromParis, and soon they fell into pairs, Mr. Fellowes and Naomi ridingtogether, sufficiently out of earshot of the others for Charles tobegin--

"I have not been able to speak to you, Anne, since that strangeinterruption--if indeed it were not a dream. "

"Oh, sir, it was no dream! How could it be?"

"How could it, indeed, when we both saw it, and both of us awake andafoot, and yet I cannot believe my senses. "

"Oh, I can believe it only too truly! I have seen him twice before. I thought you said you had. "

"Merely in dreams, and that is bad enough. "

"Are you sure? for I was up and awake. "

"Are _you_ sure? I might ask again. I was asleep in bed, and gladenough to shake myself awake. Where were you?"

"Once on Hallowmas Eve, looking from the window at Whitehall; oncewhen waiting with the Queen under the wall of Lambeth Church, on thenight of our flight. "

"Did others see him then?"

"I was alone the first time. The next time when he flitted acrossthe light, no one else saw him; but they cried out at my start. Whyshould he appear except to us?"

"That is true, " muttered Charles. 

"And oh, sir, those two times he looked as he did in life--notghastly as now. There can be no doubt now that--"

"What, sweet Anne?"

"Sir, I must tell you! I could bear it no longer, and I _did_consult the Bishop of Bath and Wells. "

"Any more?" he asked in a somewhat displeased voice. 

"No one, not a soul, and he is as safe as any of the priests here;he regards a confession in the same way. Mr. Archfield, forgive me. He seemed divinely sent to me on that All Saints' day! Oh, forgiveme!" and tears were in her eyes. 

"He is Dr. Ken--eh? I remember him. I suppose he is as safe as anyman, and a woman must have some relief. You have borne enoughindeed, " said Charles, greatly touched by her tears. "What did hesay?"

"He asked, was I certain of the--death, " said she, bringing out theword with difficulty; "but then I had only seen _it_ at Whitehall;and these other appearances, in such places too, take away all hopethat it is otherwise!"

"Assuredly, " said Charles; "I had not the least doubt at the moment. I know I ran my sword through his body, and felt a jar that Ibelieve was his backbone, " he said with a shudder, "and he fellprone and breathless; but since I have seen more of fencing, andheard more of wounds, the dread has crossed me that I acted as aninexperienced lad, and that I ought to have tried whether the lifewas in him, or if he could be recovered. If so, I slew him twice, by launching him into that pit. God forgive me!"

"Is it so deep?" asked Anne, shuddering. "I know there is a sort ofstep at the top; but I always shunned the place, and never lookedin. "

"There are two or three steps at the top, but all is broken awaybelow. Sedley and I once threw a ball down, and I am sure itdropped to a depth down which no man could fall and _live_. Ibelieve there once were underground passages leading to the harbouron one hand, and out to Portsdown Hill on the other, but that thecommunication was broken away and the openings destroyed when LordGoring was governor of Portsmouth, to secure the castle. Be that asit may, he could not have been living after he reached that floor. I heard the thud, and the jingle of his sword, and it will haunt meto my dying day. "

"And yet you never intended it. You did it in defence of me. Youdid not mean to strike thus hard. It was an accident. "

"Would that I could so feel it!" he sighed. "Nay, of course I hadno evil design when my poor little wife drove me out to give you herrag of ribbon, or whatever it was; but I hated as well as despisedthe fellow. He had angered me with his scorn--well deserved, as nowI see--of our lubberly ways. She had vexed me with her teasingcommendations--out of harmless mischief, poor child. I hated himmore every time you looked at him, and when I had occasion to strikehim I was glad of it. There was murder in my heart, and I felt asif I were putting a rat or a weasel out of the way when I threw himdown that pit. God forgive me! Then, in my madness, I so actedthat in a manner I was the death of that poor young thing. "

"No, no, sir. Your mother had never thought she would live. "

"So they say; but her face comes before me in reproach. There aretimes when I feel myself a double murderer. I have been on thepoint of telling all to Mr. Fellowes, or going home to accusemyself. Only the thought of my father and mother, and of leavingsuch a blight on that poor baby, has withheld me; but I cannot gohome to face the sight of the castle. "

"No, " said Anne, choked with tears. 

"Nor is there any suspicion of the poor fellow's fate, " he added. 

"Not that I ever heard. "

"His family think him fled, as was like enough, considering the wayin which they treated him, " said Charles. "Nor do I see what goodit would do them to know the truth. "

"It would only be a grief and bitterness to all. "

"I hope I have repented, and that God accepts my forgiveness, " saidCharles sadly. "I am banishing myself from all I love, and there isa weight on me for life; but, unless suspicion falls on others, I donot feel bound to make it worse for all by giving myself up. Yetthose appearances--to you, to me, to us both! At such a moment, too, last night!"

"Can it be because of his unhallowed grave?" said Anne, in a lowvoice of awe. 

"If it were!" said Charles, drawing up his horse for a moment inthought. "Anne, if there be one more appearance, the place shall besearched, whether it incriminate me or not. It would be adding toall my wrongs towards the poor fellow, if that were the case. "

"Even if he were found, " said Anne, "suspicion would not light onyou. And at home it will be known if he haunts the place. I will--"

"Nay, but, Anne, he will not interrupt me now. I have much more tosay. I want you to remember that we were sweethearts ere ever I, asa child of twelve, knew that I was contracted to that poor babe, andbidden to think only of her. Poor child! I honestly did my best tolove her, so far as I knew how, and mayhap we could have rubbed onthrough life passably well as things go. But--but--It skills nottalking of things gone by, except to show that it is a whole heart--not the reversion of one that is yours for ever, mine only love. "

"Oh, but--but--I am no match for you. "

"I've had enough of grand matches. "

"Your father would never endure it. "

"My father would soon rejoice. Besides, if we are wedded here--sayat Ostend--and you make me a home at Buda, or Vienna, or some placeat our winter quarters, as my brave wench will, my father will beglad enough to see us both at home again. "

"No; it cannot be. It would be plain treachery to your parents; Mr. Fellowes would say so. I am sure he would not marry us. "

"There are English chaplains. Is that all that holds you back?"

"No, sir. If the Archbishop of Canterbury were here himself, itcould not make it other than a sin, and an act of mean ingratitude, for me, the Prince's rocker, to take advantage of their goodness inpermitting you to come and bring me home--to do what would be pain, grief, and shame to them. "

"Never shame. "

"What is wrong is shame! Cannot you see how unworthy it would be inme, and how it would grieve my uncle that I should have done such athing?"

"Love would override scruples. "

"Not _true_ love. "

"True! Then you own to some love for me, Anne. "

"I do--not--know. I have guarded--I mean--cast away--I mean--neverentertained any such thought ever since I was old enough to know howwicked it would be. "

"Anne! Anne!" (in an undertone very like rapture), "you haveconfessed all! It is no sin _now_. Even you cannot say so. "

She hung her head and did not answer, but silence was enough forhim. 

"It is enough!" he said; "you will wait. I shall know you arewaiting till I return in such sort that nothing can be denied me. Let me at least have that promise. "

"You need not fear, " murmured Anne. "How could I need? The secretwould withhold me, were there nothing else. "

"And there is something else? Eh, sweetheart? Is that all I am tobe satisfied with?"

"Oh sir!--Mr. Archfield, I mean--O Charles!" she stammered. 

Mr. Fellowes turned round to consult his pupil as to whether thehalt should be made at the village whose peaked roofs were seen overthe fruit trees. 

But when Anne was lifted down from the steed it was with no grasp ofcommon courtesy, and her hand was not relinquished till it had beenfervently kissed. 

Charles did not again torment her with entreaties to share hisexile. Mayhap he recognised, though unwillingly, that her judgmenthad been right, but there was no small devotion in his wholedemeanour, as they dined, rode, and rested on that summer's day amidfields of giant haycocks, and hostels wreathed with vines, with longvistas of sleek cows and plump dappled horses in the sheds behind. The ravages of war had lessened as they rode farther from thefrontier, and the rich smiling landscape lay rejoicing in the summersunshine; the sturdy peasants looked as if they had never heard ofmarauders, as they herded their handsome cattle and respondedcivilly when a draught of milk was asked for the ladies. 

There was that strange sense of Eden felicity that sometimes comeswith the knowledge that the time is short for mutual enjoyment infull peace. Charles and Anne would part, their future wasundefined; but for the present they reposed in the knowledge of eachother's hearts, and in being together. It was as in theirchildhood, when by tacit consent he had been Anne's champion fromthe time she came as a little Londoner to be alarmed at roughcountry ways, and to be easily scared by Sedley. It had been thenthat Charles had first awakened to the chivalry of the better partof boyhood's nature, instead of following his cousin's lead, andtreating girls as creatures meant to be bullied. Many a happyreminiscence was shared between the two as they rode together, andit was not till the pale breadth of sea filled their horizon, brokenby the tall spires and peaked gables and many-windowed steep roofsof Ostend, that the future was permitted to come forward and troublethem. Then Anne's heart began to feel that persistence in herabsolute refusal was a much harder thing than at the first, when theidea was new and strange to her. And there were strange yearningsthat Charles should renew the proposal, mixed with dread of herselfand of her own resolution in case of his doing so. As heraffections embraced him more and more she pictured him sick, wounded, dying, out of reach of all, among Germans, Hungarians, Turks, --no one at hand to comfort him or even to know his fate. 

There was even disappointment in his acquiescence, though her bettermind told her that it was in accordance with her prayer againsttemptation. Moreover, he was of a reserved nature, not apt todiscuss what was once fixed, and perhaps it showed that he respectedher judgment not to try to shake her decision. Though for once lovehad carried him away, he might perhaps be grateful to her forsparing him the perplexities of dragging her about with him and ofgiving additional offence to his parents. The affection born oflifelong knowledge is not apt to be of the vehement character thatdisregards all obstacles or possible miseries to the object thereof. Yet enough feeling was betrayed to make Naomi whisper at night, "Sweet Nan, are you not some one else's sweet?"

And Anne, now with another secret on her heart, only replied withembraces, and, "Do not talk of it! I cannot tell how it is to be. I cannot tell you all. "

Naomi was discreet enough only to caress. 

With strict formalities at outworks, moat, drawbridge, and gates, and the customary inquisitorial search of the luggage, thetravellers were allowed to repair to a lofty inn, with the Lion ofFlanders for its sign, and a wide courtyard, the successive outsidegalleries covered with luxuriant vines. Here, as usual, though theparty of females obtained one bedroom together, the gentlemen had toshare one vast sleeping chamber with a variety of merchants, Dutch, Flemish, Spanish, and a few English. Meals were at a great tabled'hote in the public room, opening into the court, and were sharedby sundry Spanish, Belgic, and Swiss officers of the garrison, whomade this their mess-room. Two young English gentlemen, likeCharles Archfield, making the grand tour, whom he had met in Italy, were delighted to encounter him again, and still more so at thecompany of English ladies. 

"No wonder the forlorn widower has recovered his spirits!" Anneheard one say with a laugh that made her blush and turn away; andthere was an outcry that after a monopoly of the fair ones all theway from Paris, the seats next to them must be yielded. 

Anne was disappointed, and could not bring herself to be agreeableto the obtrusive cavalier with the rich lace cravat and perfumedhair, both assumed in her honour. 

The discussion was respecting the vessels where a passage might beobtained. The cavaliers were to sail in a couple of days forLondon, but another ship would go out of harbour with the tide onthe following day for Southampton, and this was decided on byacclamation by the Hampshire party, though no good accommodation waspromised them. 

There was little opportunity for a tete-a-tetes, for the young meninsisted on escorting the ladies to the picture galleries, palaces, and gardens, and Charles did not wish to reawaken the observationsthat, according to the habits of the time, might not be of thechoicest description. Anne watched him under her eyelashes, andwondered with beating heart whether after all he intended to returnhome, and there plead his cause, for he gave no token of intendingto separate from the rest. 

The Hampshire Hog was to sail at daybreak, so the passengers went onboard over night, after supper, when the summer twilight was sinkingdown and the far-off west still had a soft golden tint. 

Anne felt Charles's arm round her in the boat and grasping her hand, then pulling off her glove and putting a ring on her finger--all insilence. She still felt that arm on the deck in the confusion ofmen, ropes, and bales of goods, and the shouts and hails on allsides that nearly deafened her. There was imminent danger of beinghurled down, if not overboard, among the far from sober sailors, andMr. Fellowes urged the ladies to go below at once, conducting MissDarpent himself as soon as he could ascertain where to go. Annefelt herself almost lifted down. Then followed a strong embrace, akiss on brow, lips, and either cheek, and a low hoarse whisper--"Sobest! Mine own! God bless you, "--and as Suzanne came tumbling aftinto the narrow cabin, Anne found herself left alone with her twofemale companions, and knew that these blissful days were over. 

CHAPTER XXIII: FRENCH LEAVE

"When ye gang awa, Jamie, Far across the sea, laddie, When ye gang to Germanie What will ye send to me, laddie?"

Huntingtower. 

Fides was the posy on the ring. That was all Anne could discover, and indeed only this much with the morning light of the July sunthat penetrated the remotest corners. For the cabin was dark andstifling, and there was no leaving it, for both Miss Darpent and herattendant were so ill as to engross her entirely. 

She could hardly leave them when there was a summons to a meal inthe captain's cabin, and there she found herself the only passengerable to appear, and the rest of the company, though intendingcivility, were so rough that she was glad to retreat again, andwretched as the cabin was, she thought it preferable to the deck. 

Mr. Fellowes, she heard, was specially prostrated, and jokes werepassing round that it was the less harm, since it might be the worsefor him if the crew found out that there was a parson on board. 

Thus Anne had to forego the first sight of her native land, and onlyby the shouts above and the decreased motion of the vessel knew whenshe was within lee of the Isle of Wight, and on entering the Solentcould encourage her companions that their miseries were nearly over, and help them to arrange themselves for going upon deck. 

When at length they emerged, as the ship lay-to in sight of the redroofs and white steeples of Southampton, and of the green mazes ofthe New Forest, Mr. Fellowes was found looking everywhere for thepupil whom he had been too miserable to miss during the voyage. Neither Charles Archfield nor his servant was visible, but Mr. Fellowes's own man coming forward, delivered to the bewildered tutora packet which he said that his comrade had put in his charge forthe purpose. In the boat, on the way to land, Mr. Fellowes read tohimself the letter, which of course filled him with extremedistress. It contained much of what Charles had already explainedto Anne of his conviction that in the present state of affairs itwas better for so young a man as himself, without sufficientoccupation at home, to seek honourable service abroad, and that hethought it would spare much pain and perplexity to depart withoutrevisiting home. He added full and well-expressed thanks for allthat Mr. Fellowes had done for him, and for kindness for which hehoped to be the better all his life. He enclosed a long letter tohis father, which he said would, he hoped, entirely exonerate hiskind and much-respected tutor from any remissness or anyparticipation in the scheme which he had thought it better on allaccounts to conceal till the last. 

"And indeed, " said poor Mr. Fellowes, "if I had had any inkling ofit, I should have applied to the English Consul to restrain him as award under trust. But no one would have thought it of him. He hadalways been reasonable and docile beyond his years, and I trustedhim entirely. I should as soon have thought of our President givingme the slip in this way. Surely he came on board with us. "

"He handed me into the boat, " said Miss Darpent. "Who saw him last?Did you, Miss Woodford?"

Anne was forced to own that she had seen him on board, and hercheeks were in spite of herself such tell-tales that Mr. Fellowescould not help saying, "It is not my part to rebuke you, madam, butif you were aware of this evasion, you will have a heavy reckoningto pay to the young man's parents. "

"Sir, " said Anne, "I knew indeed that he meant to join the Imperialarmy, but I knew not how nor when. "

"Ah, well! I ask no questions. You need not justify yourself tome, young lady; but Sir Philip and Lady Archfield little knew whatthey did when they asked us to come by way of Paris. Not that Iregret it on all accounts, " he added, with a courteous bow to Naomiwhich set her blushing in her turn. He avoided again addressingMiss Woodford, and she thought with consternation of the prejudicehe might excite against her. It had been arranged between the twomaidens that Naomi should be a guest at Portchester Rectory till shecould communicate with Walwyn, and her father or brother could comeand fetch her. 

They landed at the little wharf, among the colliers, and made theirway up the street to an inn, where, after ordering a meal to satisfythe ravenous sea-appetite, Mr. Fellowes, after a few words withNaomi, left the ladies to their land toilet, while he went to hirehorses for the journey. 

Then Naomi could not help saying, "O Anne! I did not think youwould have done this. I am grieved!"

"You do not know all, " said Anne sadly, "or you would not think sohardly. "

"I saw you had an understanding with him. I see you have a new ringon your finger; but how could I suppose you would encourage an onlyson thus to leave his parents?"

"Hush, hush, Naomi!" cried Anne, as the uncontrollable tears brokeout. "Don't you believe that it is quite as hard for me as for themthat he should have gone off to fight those dreadful blood-thirstyTurks? Indeed I would have hindered him, but that--but that--I knowit is best for him. No! I can't tell you why, but I _know_ it is;and even to the very last, when he helped me down the companion-ladder, I hoped he might be coming home first. "

"But you are troth-plight to him, and secretly?"

"I am not troth-plight; I know I am not his equal, I told him so, but he thrust this ring on me in the boat, in the dark, and howcould I give it back!"

Naomi shook her head, but was more than half-disarmed by herfriend's bitter weeping. Whether she gave any hint to Mr. FellowesAnne did not know, but his manner remained drily courteous, and asAnne had to ride on a pillion behind a servant she was left in astate of isolation as to companionship, which made her feel herselfin disgrace, and almost spoilt the joy of dear familiar recognitionof hill, field, and tree, after her long year's absence, the longestyear in her life, and substituted the sinking of heart lest sheshould be returning to hear of misfortune and disaster, sickness ordeath. 

Her original plan had been to go on with Naomi to Portchester atonce, if by inquiry at Fareham she found that her uncle was at home, but she perceived that Mr. Fellowes decidedly wished that MissDarpent should go first to the Archfields, and something within herdetermined first to turn thither in spite of all there was toencounter, so that she might still her misgivings by learningwhether her uncle was well. So she bade the man turn his horse'shead towards the well-known poplars in front of Archfield House. 

The sound of the trampling horses brought more than one well-knownold 'blue-coated serving-man' into the court, and among them a womanwith a child in her arms. There was the exclamation, "MistressAnne! Sure Master Charles be not far behind, " and the old groom ranto help her down. 

"Oh! Ralph, thanks. All well? My uncle?"

"He is here, with his Honour, " and in scarcely a moment more Lucy, swift of foot, had flown out, and had Anne in her embrace, andcrying out--

"Ah, Charles! my brother! I don't see him. "

Anne was glad to have no time to answer before she was in heruncle's arms. "My child, at last! God bless thee! Safe in souland body!"

Sir Philip was there too, greeting Mr. Fellowes, and looking for hisson, and with the cursory assurance that Mr. Archfield was well, andthat they would explain, a hasty introduction of Miss Darpent wasmade, and all moved in to where Lady Archfield, more feeble and slowof movement, had come into the hall, and the nurse stood by with thelittle heir to be shown to his father, and Sedley Archfield stood inthe background. It was a cruel moment for all, when the words camefrom Mr. Fellowes, "Sir, I have to tell you, Mr. Archfield is nothere. This letter, he tells me, is to explain. "

There was an outburst of exclamation, during which Sir Philipwithdrew into a window with his spectacles to read the letter, whileall to which the tutor or Anne ventured to commit themselves wasthat Mr. Archfield had only quitted them without notice on board theHampshire Hog. 

The first tones of the father had a certain sound of relief, "Goneto the Imperialist army to fight the Turks in Hungary!"

Poor Lady Archfield actually shrieked, and Lucy turned quite pale, while Anne caught a sort of lurid flush of joy on Sedley Archfield'sfeatures, and he was the first to exclaim, "Undutiful young dog!"

"Tut! tut!" returned Sir Philip, "he might as well have come homefirst, and yet I do not know but that it is the best thing he coulddo. There might have been difficulties in the way of getting outagain, you see, my lady, as things stand now. Ay! ay! you are inthe right of it, my boy. It is just as well to let things settlethemselves down here before committing himself to one side or theother. 'Tis easy enough for an old fellow like me who has to letnothing go but his Commission of the Peace, but not the same for astirring young lad; and he is altogether right as to not coming backto idle here as a rich man. It would be the ruin of him. I am gladhe has the sense to see it. I was casting about to obtain an estatefor him to give him occupation. "

"But the wars, " moaned the mother; "if he had only come home wecould have persuaded him. "

"The wars, my lady! Why, they will be a feather in his cap; and maybe if he had come home, the Dutchman would have claimed him for his, and let King James be as misguided as he may, I cannot stomachfighting against his father's son for myself or mine. No, no; itwas the best thing there was for the lad to do. You shall hear hisletter, it does him honour, and you, too, Mr. Fellowes. He couldnot have written such a letter when he left home barely a year ago. "

Sir Philip proceeded to read the letter aloud. There was a fullexplanation of the motives, political and private, only leaving outone, and that the most powerful of all of those which led CharlesArchfield to absent himself for the present. He entreated pardonfor having made the decision without obtaining permission from hisfather on returning home; but he had done so in view of possibleobstacles to his leaving England again, and to the belief that abrief sojourn at home would cause more grief and perplexity than hisabsence. He further explained, as before, his reasons for secrecytowards his travelling companion, and entreated his father not tosuppose for a moment that Mr. Fellowes had been in any way culpablefor what he could never have suspected; warmly affectionate messagesto mother and sister followed, and an assurance of feeling that 'thelittle one' needed for no care or affection while with them. 

Lady Archfield was greatly disappointed, and cried a great deal, making sure that the poor dear lad's heart was still too sore tobrook returning after the loss of his wife, who had now become thesweetest creature in the world; but Sir Philip's decision that themeasure was wise, and the secrecy under the circumstances soexpedient as to be pardonable, prevented all public blame; Mr. Fellowes, however, was drawn apart, and asked whether he suspectedany other motive than was here declared, and which might make hispupil unwilling to face the parental brow, and he had declared thatnothing could have been more exemplary than the whole demeanour ofthe youth, who had at first gone about as one crushed, and thoughslowly reviving into cheerfulness, had always been subdued, untilquite recently, when the meeting with his old companion hadcertainly much enlivened his spirits. Poor Mr. Fellowes had beenrejoicing in the excellent character he should have to give, whenthis evasion had so utterly disconcerted him, and it was an infiniterelief to him to find that all was thought comprehensible andpardonable. 

Anne might be thankful that none of the authorities thought ofasking her the question about hidden motives; and Naomi, lookingabout with her bright eyes, thought she had perhaps judged toohardly when she saw the father's approval, and that the mother andsister only mourned at the disappointment at not seeing the belovedone. 

The Archfields would not hear of letting any of the party go on toPortchester that evening. Dr. Woodford, who had ridden over forconsultation with Sir Philip, must remain, he would have plenty oftime for his niece by and by, and she and Miss Darpent must tellthem all about the journey, and about Charles; and Anne must tellthem hundreds of things about herself that they scarcely knew, fornot one letter from St. Germain had ever reached her uncle. 

How natural it all looked! the parlour just as when she saw it last, and the hall, with the long table being laid for supper, and the hotsun streaming in through the heavy casements. She could havefancied it yesterday that she had left it, save for the plump rosylittle yearling with flaxen curls peeping out under his round whitecap, who had let her hold him in her arms and fondle him all throughthat reading of his father's letter. Charles's child! He was herprince indeed now. 

He was taken from her and delivered over to Lady Archfield to becaressed and pitied because his father would not come home 'to seehis grand-dame's own beauty, ' while Lucy took the guests upstairs toprepare for supper, Naomi and her maid being bestowed in the bestguest-chamber, and Lucy taking her friend to her own, the scene ofmany a confabulation of old. 

"Oh, how I love it!" cried Anne, as the door opened on the well-known little wainscotted abode. "The very same beau-pot. One wouldthink they were the same clove gillyflowers as when I went away. "

"O Anne, dear, and you are just the same after all your kings andqueens, and all you have gone through;" and the two friends werelocked in another embrace. 

"Kings and queens indeed! None of them all are worth my Lucy. "

"And now, tell me all; tell me all, Nancy, and first of all about mybrother. How does he look, and is he well?"

"He looks! O Lucy, he is grown such a noble cavalier; most like thepicture of that uncle of yours who was killed, and that Sir Philipalways grieves for. "

"My father always hoped Charley would be like him, " said Lucy. "Youmust tell him that. But I fear he may be grave and sad. "

"Graver, but not sad now. "

"And you have seen him and talked to him, Anne? Did you know he wasgoing on this terrible enterprise?"

"He spoke of it, but never told me when. "

"Ah! I was sure you knew more about it than the old tutor man. Youalways were his little sweetheart before poor little Madam came inthe way, and he would tell you anything near his heart. Could younot have stopped him?"

"I think not, Lucy; he gave his reasons like a man of weight andthought, and you see his Honour thinks them sound ones. "

"Oh yes; but somehow I cannot fancy our Charley doing anything forgrand, sound, musty reasons, such as look well marshalled out in aletter. "

"You don't know how much older he is grown, " said Anne, again, withthe tell-tale colour in her cheeks. "Besides, he cannot bear tocome home. "

"Don't tell me that, Nan. My mother does not see it; but though hewas fond of poor little Madam in a way, and tried to think himselfmore so, as in duty bound, she really was fretting and wearing thevery life--no, perhaps not the life, but the temper--out of him. What I believe it to be the cause is, that my father must have beenwriting to him about that young gentlewoman in the island that he isso set upon, because she would bring a landed estate which wouldgive Charles something to do. They say that Peregrine Oakshott ranaway to escape wedding his cousin; Charley will banish himself forthe like cause. "

"He said nothing of it, " said Anne. 

"O Anne, I wish you had a landed estate! You would make him happierthan any other, and would love his poor little Phil! Anne! is itso? I have guessed!" and Lucy kissed her on each cheek. 

"Indeed, indeed I have not promised. I know it can never, never be--and that I am not fit for him. Do not speak of it, Lucy? He spokeof it once as we rode together--"

"And you could not be so false as to tell him you did not love him?No, you could not?" and Lucy kissed her again. 

"No, " faltered Anne; "but I would not do as he wished. I have givenhim no troth-plight. I told him it would never be permitted. Andhe said no more, but he put this ring on my finger in the boatwithout a word. I ought not to wear it; I shall not. "

"Oh yes, you shall. Indeed you shall. No one need understand itbut myself, and it makes us sisters. Yes, Anne, Charley was right. My father will not consent now, but he will in due time, if he doesnot hear of it till he wearies to see Charles again. Trust it tome, my sweet sister that is to be. "

"It is a great comfort that you know, " said Anne, almost moved totell her the greater and more perilous secret that lay in thebackground, but withheld by receiving Lucy's own confidence that sheherself was at present tormented by her cousin Sedley's courtship. He was still, more's the pity, she said, in garrison at Portsmouth, but there were hopes of his regiment being ere long sent to the LowCountries, since it was believed to be more than half inclined toKing James. In the meantime he certainly had designs on Lucy'sportion, and as her father never believed half the stories of hisdebaucheries that were rife, and had a kindness for his onlybrother's orphan, she did not feel secure against his yielding so asto provide for Sedley without continuance in the Dutch service. 

"I could almost follow the example of running away!" said Lucy. 

"I suppose, " Anne ventured to say, faltering, "that nothing has beenheard of poor Mr. Oakshott. "

"Nothing at all. His uncle's people, who have come home fromMuscovy, know nothing of him, and it is thought he may have gone offto the plantations. The talk is that Mistress Martha is to behanded on to the third brother, but that she is not willing. " Itwas clear that there could have been no spectres here, and Lucy wenton, "But you have told me nothing yet of yourself and your doings, my Anne. How well you look, and more than ever the Court lady, evenin your old travelling habit. Is that the watch the King gave you?"

In private and in public there was quite enough to tell on thatevening for intimate friends who had not met for a year, and one ofwhom had gone through so many vicissitudes. Nor were the other twoguests by any means left out of the welcome, and the evening was avery happy one. 

Mr. Fellowes intimated his intention of going himself to Walwyn withthe news of Miss Darpent's arrival, and Naomi accepted theinvitation to remain at Portchester till she could be sent for fromhome. 

It was not till the next morning that Anne Woodford could be alonewith her uncle. As she came downstairs in the morning she saw himwaiting for her; he held out his hands, and drew her out with himinto the walled garden that lay behind the house. 

"Child! dear child!" said he, "you are welcome to my old eyes. MayGod bless you, as He has aided you to be faithful alike to Him andto your King through much trial. "

"Ah, sir! I have sorely repented the folly and ambition that wouldnot heed your counsel. "

"No doubt, my maid; but the spirit of humility and repentance hathworked well in you. I fear me, however, that you are come back tofurther trials, since probably Portchester may be no longer ourhome. "

"Nor Winchester?"

"Nor Winchester. "

"Then is this new King going to persecute as in the old times youtalk of? He who was brought over to save the Church!"

"He accepts the English Church, my maid, so far as it accepts him. All beneficed clergy are required to take the oath of allegiance tohim before the first of August, now approaching, under pain oflosing their preferments. Many of my brethren, even our own Bishopand Dean, think this merely submission to the powers that be, andthat it may be lawfully done; but as I hear neither the Archbishophimself, nor my good old friends Doctors Ken and Frampton canreconcile it to their conscience, any more than my brother Stanbury, of Botley, nor I, to take this fresh oath, while the King to whom wehave sworn is living. Some hold that he has virtually renounced ourallegiance by his flight. I cannot see it, while he is fighting forhis crown in Ireland. What say you, Anne, who have seen him; did hetreat his case as that of an abdicated prince?"

"No, sir, certainly not. All the talk was of his enjoying his ownagain. "

"How can I then, consistently with my duty and loyalty, swear tothis William and Mary as my lawful sovereigns? I say not 'tisincumbent on me to refuse to live under them a peaceful life, butmake oath to them as my King and Queen I cannot, so long as KingJames shall live. True, he has not been a friend to the Church, andhas wofully trampled on the rights of Englishmen, but I cannot holdthat this absolves me from my duty to him, any more than David wasfreed from duty to Saul. So, Anne, back must we go to the povertyin which I was reared with your own good father. "

Anne might grieve, but she felt the gratification of being talked toby her uncle as a woman who could understand, as he had talked toher mother. 

"The first of August!" she repeated, as if it were a note of doom. 

"Yes; I hear whispers of a further time of grace, but I know notwhat difference that should make. A Christian man's oath may not bebroken sooner or later. Well, poverty is the state blessed by ourLord, and it may be that I have lived too much at mine ease; but Icould wish, dear child, that you were safely bestowed in a house ofyour own. "

"So do not I, " said Anne, "for now I can work for you. "

He smiled faintly, and here Mr. Fellowes joined them; a good manlikewise, but intent on demonstrating the other side of thequestion, and believing that the Popish, persecuting King hadforfeited his rights, so that there need be no scruple as torenouncing what he had thrown up by his flight. It was an endlessargument, in which each man could only act according to his ownconscience, and endeavour that this conscience should be as littlebiassed as possible by worldly motives or animosity. 

Mr. Fellowes started at once with his servant for Walwyn, and Naomiaccompanied the two Woodfords to Portchester. In spite of thecavalier sentiments of her family, Naomi had too much of the spireof her Frondeur father to understand any feeling for duty towardsthe King, who had so decidedly broken his covenant with his people, and moreover had so abominably treated the Fellows of MagdalenCollege; and her pity for Anne as a sufferer for her uncle's whimquite angered her friend into hot defence of him and his cause. 

The dear old parsonage garden under the gray walls, the honeysuckleand monthly roses trailing over the porch, the lake-like creekbetween it and green Portsdown Hill, the huge massive keep andtowers, and the masts in the harbour, the Island hills sleeping inblue summer haze--Anne's heart clave to them more than ever for theknowledge that the time was short and that the fair spot must begiven up for the right's sake. Certainly there was some trepidationat the thought of the vault, and she had made many vague schemes forascertaining that which her very flesh trembled at the thought ofany one suspecting; but these were all frustrated, for since the warwith France had begun, the bailey had been put under repair andgarrisoned by a detachment of soldiers, the vault had been coveredin, there was a sentry at the gateway of the castle, and the posterndoor towards the vicarage was fastened up, so that though the parishstill repaired to church through the wide court solitary wanderingsthere were no longer possible, nor indeed safe for a young woman, considering what the soldiery of that period were. 

The thought came over her with a shudder as she gazed from herwindow at the creek where she remembered Peregrine sending Charlesand Sedley adrift in the boat. 

The tide was out, the mud glistened in the moonlight, but nothingwas to be seen more than Anne had beheld on many a summer nightbefore, no phantom was evoked before her eyes, no elfin-like formrevealed his presence, nor did any spirit take shape to upbraid herwith his unhallowed grave, so close at hand. 

No, but Naomi Darpent, yearning for sympathy, came to her side, caressed her on that summer night, and told her that Mr. Felloweshad gone to ask her of her father, and though she could never loveagain as she had once loved, she thought if her parents wished it, she could be happy with so good a man. 

CHAPTER XXIV: IN THE MOONLIGHT

I have had a dream this evening, While the white and gold were fleeting, But I need not, need not tell it. Where would be the good?

Requiescat in Pace. --JEAN INGELOW. 

Anne Woodford sat, on a sultry summer night, by the open window inArchfield House at Fareham, busily engaged over the tail of a kite, while asleep in a cradle in the corner of the room lay a little boy, his apple-blossom cheeks and long flaxen curls lying prone upon hispillow as he had tossed when falling asleep in the heat. 

The six years since her return had been eventful. Dr. Woodford hadadhered to his view that his oath of allegiance could not beforfeited by James's flight; and he therefore had submitted to beousted from his preferments, resigning his pleasant prebendal house, and his sea-side home, and embracing poverty for his personal oath'ssake, although he was willing to acquiesce in the government ofWilliam and Mary, and perhaps to rejoice that others had effectedwhat he would not have thought it right to do. 

Things had been softened to him as regarded his flock by theappointment of Mr. Fellowes to Portchester, which was a Crownliving, though there had been great demur at thus slipping into afriend's shoes, so that Dr. Woodford had been obliged to asseveratethat nothing so much comforted him as leaving the parish in suchhands, and that he blamed no man for seeing the question of Divineright as he did in common with the Non-jurors. The appointmentopened the way to the marriage with Naomi Darpent, and the pair werehappily settled at Portchester. 

Dr. Woodford and his niece found a tiny house at Winchester, nearthe wharf, with the clear Itchen flowing in front and the greenhills rising beyond, while in the rear were the ruins of Wolvesey, and the buildings of the Cathedral and College. They retained noservant except black Hans, poor Peregrine's legacy, who was anexcellent cook, and capable of all that Anne could not accomplish inher hours of freedom. 

It was a fall indeed from her ancient aspirations, though there wasstill that bud of hope within her heart. The united means of uncleand niece were so scanty that she was fain to offer her servicesdaily at Mesdames Reynaud's still flourishing school, where thefreshness of her continental experiences made her very welcome. 

Dr. Woodford occasionally assisted some student preparing for theuniversity, but this was not regular occupation, and it was poorlypaid, so that it was well that fifty pounds a year went at leastthree times as far as it would do in the present day. Though hisgown and cassock lost their richness and lustre, he was as muchrespected as ever. Bishop Mews often asked him to Wolvesey, andallowed him to assist the parochial clergy when it was not necessaryto utter the royal name, the vergers marshalled him to his own stallat daily prayers, and he had free access to Bishop Morley'sCathedral library. 

The Archfield family still took a house in the Close for the wintermonths, and there a very sober-minded and conventional courtship ofLucy took place by Sir Edmund Nutley, a worthy and well-to-dogentleman settled on the borders of Parkhurst Forest, in the Isle ofWight. 

Anne, with the thought of her Charles burning within her heart, wasa little scandalised at the course of affairs. Sir Edmund was ahighly worthy man, but not in his first youth, and ponderous--aWhig, moreover, and an intimate friend of the masterful governor ofthe island, Lord Cutts, called the "Salamander. " He had seen MissArchfield before at the winter and spring Quarter Sessions, andthough her father was no longer in the Commission of the Peace, theresidence at Winchester gave him opportunities, and the chiefobstacle seemed to be the party question. He was more in love thanwas the lady, but she was submissive, and believed that he would bea kind husband. She saw, too, that her parents would be muchdisappointed and displeased if she made any resistance to soprosperous a settlement, and she was positively glad to be out ofreach of Sedley's addresses. Such an entirely unenthusiasticacceptance was the proper thing, and it only remained to provide forLady Archfield's comfort in the loss of her daughter. 

For this the elders turned at once to Anne Woodford. Sir Philipmade it his urgent entreaty that the Doctor and his niece would takeup their abode with him, and that Anne would share with thegrandmother the care of the young Philip, a spirited little fellowwho would soon be running wild with the grooms, without theattention that his aunt had bestowed on him. 

Dr. Woodford himself was much inclined to accept the office ofchaplain to his old friend, who he knew would be far happier for hiscompany; and Anne's heart bounded at the thought of bringing upCharles's child, but that very start of joy made her blush andhesitate, and finally surprise the two old gentlemen by saying, withcrimson cheeks--

"Sir, your Honour ought to know what might make you change yourmind. There have been passages between Mr. Archfield and me. "

Sir Philip laughed. "Ah, the rogue! You were always littlesweethearts as children. Why, Anne, you should know better than toheed what a young soldier says. "

"No doubt you have other views for your son, " said Dr. Woodford, "and I trust that my niece has too much discretion and sense ofpropriety to think that they can be interfered with on her account. "

"Passages!" repeated Sir Philip thoughtfully. "Mistress Anne, howmuch do you mean by that? Surely there is no promise between you?"

"No, sir, " said Anne; "I would not give any; but when we parted inFlanders he asked me to--to wait for him, and I feel that you oughtto know it. "

"Oh, I understand!" said the baronet. "It was only natural to anold friend in a foreign land, and you have too much sense to dwellon a young man's folly, though it was an honourable scruple thatmade you tell me, my dear maid. But he is not come or coming yet, more's the pity, so there is no need to think about it at present. "

Anne's cheeks did not look as if she had attained that wisdom; buther conscience was clear, since she had told the fact, and thefather did not choose to take it seriously. To say how she herselfloved Charles would have been undignified and nothing to thepurpose, since her feelings were not what would be regarded, andthere was no need to mention her full and entire purpose to wed noone else. Time enough for that if the proposal were made. 

So the uncle and niece entered on their new life, with some loss ofindependence, and to the Doctor a greater loss in the neighbourhoodof the Cathedral and its library; for after the first year or two, as Lady Archfield grew rheumatic, and Sir Philip had his old friendto play backgammon and read the Weekly Gazette, they becameunwilling to make the move to Winchester, and generally stayed athome all the winter. 

Before this, however, Princess Anne had been at the King's House atWinchester for a short time; and Lady Archfield paid due respects toher, with Anne in attendance. With the royal faculty of rememberingeverybody, the Princess recognised her namesake, gave her hand to bekissed, and was extremely gracious. She was at the moment in theheight of a quarrel with her sister, and far from delighted with thepresent regime. She sent for Miss Woodford, and, to Anne'ssurprise, laughed over her own escape from the Cockpit, adding, "Youwould not come, child. You were in the right on't. There's nogratitude among them! Had I known how I should be served I wouldnever have stirred a foot! So 'twas you that carried off the child!Tell me what he is like. "

And she extracted by questions all that Anne could tell her of thelife at St. Germain, and the appearance of her little half-brother. It was impossible to tell whether she asked from affectionateremorse or gossiping interest, but she ended by inquiring whetherher father's god-daughter were content with her position, or desiredone--if there were a vacancy--in her own household, where she mightget a good husband. 

Anne declined courteously and respectfully, and was forced to hintat an engagement which she could not divulge. She had heardCharles's expressions of delight at the arrangement which gave hisboy to her tender care, warming her heart. 

Lady Archfield had fits of talking of finding a good husband forAnne Woodford among the Cathedral clergy, but the maiden was sonecessary to her, and so entirely a mother to little Philip, thatshe soon let the idea drop. Perhaps it was periodically revived, when, about three times a year, there arrived a letter from Charles. He wrote in good spirits, evidently enjoying his campaigns, and withno lack of pleasant companions, English, Scotch, and IrishJacobites, with whom he lived in warm friendship and wholesomeemulation. He won promotion, and the county Member actually cameout of his way to tell Sir Philip what he had heard from theImperial ambassador of young Archfield's distinguished services atthe battle of Salankamen, only regretting that he was not fightingunder King William's colours. Little Philip pranced about cuttingoff Turks' heads in the form of poppies, 'like papa, ' for whosesafety Anne taught him to pray night and morning. 

Pride in his son's exploits was a compensation to the father, whodeclared them to be better than vegetating over the sheepfolds, likeRobert Oakshott, or than idling at Portsmouth, like SedleyArchfield. 

That young man's regiment had been ordered to Ireland during thecampaign that followed the battle of Boyne Water. He had suddenlyreturned from thence, cashiered: by his own story, the victim ofthe enmity of the Dutch General Ginkel; according to anotherversion, on account of brutal excesses towards the natives andinsolence to his commanding officer. Courts-martial had only justbeen introduced, and Sir Philip could believe in a Whig inventiondoing injustice to a member of a loyal family, so that his doorswere open to his nephew, and Sedley haunted them whenever he had noother resource; but he spent most of his time between Newmarket andother sporting centres, and contrived to get a sort of maintenanceby bets at races, cock-fights, and bull-baitings, and by extensivegambling. Evil reports of him came from time to time, but SirPhilip was loth to think ill of the son of his brother, or toforbode that as his grandson grew older, such influence might bedangerous. 

In his uncle's presence Sedley was on his good behaviour; but if hecaught Miss Woodford without that protection, he attempted rudecompliments, and when repelled by her dignified look and manner, sneered at the airs of my lady's waiting-woman, and demanded howlong she meant to mope after Charley, who would never look so low. "She need not be so ungracious to a poor soldier. She might have toput up with worse. "

Moreover, he deliberately incited Philip to mischief, putting foulwords into the little mouth, and likewise giving forbidden food anddrink, lauding evil sports, and mocking at obedience to anyauthority, especially Miss Woodford's. Philip was very fond of hisNana, and in general good and obedient; but what high-spirited boyis proof against the allurements of the only example before him ofyoung manhood, assuring him that it was manly not to mind what thewomen said, nor to be tied to the apron-strings of his grand-dame'sabigail?

The child had this summer thus been actually taken to the outskirtsof a bull-fight, whence he had been brought home in great disgraceby Ralph, the old servant who had been charged to look after hisout-door amusements, and to ride with him. The grandfather wasindeed more shocked at the danger and the vulgarity of the sportthan its cruelty, but Philip had received his first flogging, andhis cousin had been so sharply rebuked that--to the great relief ofAnne and of Lady Archfield--he had not since appeared at FarehamHouse. 

The morrow would be Philip's seventh birthday, a stage which wouldtake him farther out of Anne's power. He was no longer to sleep inher chamber, but in one of his own with Ralph for his protector, andhe was to begin Latin with Dr. Woodford. So great was his delightthat he had gone to bed all the sooner in order to bring the greatday more quickly, and Anne was glad of the opportunity of finishingthe kite, which was to be her present, for Ralph to help him flyupon Portsdown Hill. 

That great anniversary, so delightful to him, with pony and whipprepared for him--what a day of confusion, distress, andwretchedness did it not recall to his elders? Anne could not choosebut recall the time, as she sat alone in the window, looking outover the garden, the moon beginning to rise, and the sunset lightstill colouring the sky in the north-west, just as it had done whenshe returned home after the bonfire. The events of that sad morninghad faded out of the foreground. The Oakshott family seemed to haveresigned themselves to the mystery of Peregrine's fate. Only hismother had declined from the time of his disappearance. When it wasascertained that his uncle had died in Russia, and that nothing hadbeen heard of him there, it seemed to bring on a fresh stage of herillness, and she had expired at last in Martha Browning's arms, herlast words being a blessing not only to Robert, but to Peregrine, and a broken entreaty to her husband to forgive the boy, for hemight have been better if they had used him well. 

Martha was then found to hold out against the idea of his beingdead. Little affection and scant civility as she had received fromhim, her dutiful heart had attached itself to her destined lord, andno doubt her imagination had been excited by his curious abilities, and her compassion by the persecution he suffered at home. At anyrate, when, after a proper interval, the Major tried to transfer herto his remaining son, she held out against it for a long interval, until at last, after full three years, the desolation anddisorganisation of Oakwood without a mistress, a severe illness ofthe Major, and the distress of his son, so worked upon her feelingsthat she consented to the marriage with Robert, and had ever sincebeen the ruling spirit at Oakwood, and a very different one fromwhat had been expected--sensible, kindly, and beneficent, andallowing the young husband more liberty and indulgence than he hadever known before. 

The remembrance of Peregrine seemed to have entirely passed away, and Anne had been troubled with no more apparitions, so that thoughshe thought over the strange scene of that terrible morning, therapid combat, the hasty concealment, the distracted face of theunhappy youth, it was with the thought that time had been a healer, and that Charles might surely now return home. And what then?

She raised her eyes to the open window, and what did she behold inthe moonlight streaming full upon the great tree rose below? It wasthe same face and figure that had three times startled her before, the figure dark and the face very white in the moonlight, but likenothing else, and with that odd, one-sided feather as of old. Ithad flitted ere she could point its place--gone in a single flash--but she was greatly startled! Had it come to protest against thescheme she had begun to indulge in on that very night of all nights, or had it merely been her imagination? For nothing was visible, though she leant from the window, no sound was to be heard, thoughwhen she tried to complete her work, her hands trembled and thepaper rustled, so that Philip showed symptoms of wakening, and shehad to defer her task till early morning. 

She said nothing of her strange sight, and Phil had a happysuccessful birthday, flying the kite with a propitious wind, andriding into Portsmouth on his new pony with grandpapa. But therewas one strange event. The servants had a holiday, and some of themwent into Portsmouth, black Hans, who never returned, being one. The others had lost sight of him, but had not been uneasy, knowinghim to be perfectly well able to find his way home; but as he neverappeared, the conclusion was that he must have been kidnapped bysome ship's crew to serve as a cook. He had not been very happyamong the servants at Fareham, who laughed at his black face andDutch English, and he would probably have gone willingly withDutchmen; but Anne and her uncle were grieved, and felt as if theyhad failed in the trust that poor Sir Peregrine had left them. 

CHAPTER XXV: TIDINGS FROM THE IRON GATES

"He has more cause to be proud. Where is he wounded?"

Coriolanus. 

It was a wet autumn day, when the yellow leaves of the poplars infront of the house were floating down amid the misty rain; Dr. Woodford had gone two days before to consult a book in the Cathedrallibrary, and was probably detained at Winchester by the weather;Lady Archfield was confined to her bed by a sharp attack ofrheumatism. Sir Philip was taking his after-dinner doze in his arm-chair; and little Philip was standing by Anne, who was doing herbest to keep him from awakening his grandfather, as she partly read, partly romanced, over the high-crowned hatted fishermen in theillustrations to Izaak Walton's Complete Angler. 

He had just, caught by the musical sound, made her read to him asecond time Marlowe's verses, 'Come live with me and be my love, '

and informed her that his Nana was his love, and that she was towatch him fish in the summer rivers, when the servant who had beensent to meet His Majesty's mail and extract the Weekly Gazette camein, bringing not only that, but a thick, sealed packet, the aspectof which made the boy dance and exclaim, "A packet from my papa!Oh! will he have written an answer to my own letter to him?"

But Sir Philip, who had started up at the opening of the door, hadno sooner glanced at the packet than he cried out, "'Tis not hishand!" and when he tried to break the heavy seals and loosen thestring, his hands shook so much that he pushed it over to Anne, saying, "You open it; tell me if my boy is dead. "

Anne's alarm took the course of speed. She tore off the wrapper, and after one glance said, "No, no, it cannot be the worst; here issomething from himself at the end. Here, sir. "

"I cannot! I cannot, " said the poor old man, as the tears dimmedhis spectacles, and he could not adjust them. "Read it, my dearwench, and let me know what I am to tell his poor mother. "

And he sank into a chair, holding between his knees his littlegrandson, who stood gazing with widely-opened blue eyes. 

"He sends love, duty, blessing. Oh, he talks of coming home, so donot fear, sir!" cried Anne, a vivid colour on her cheeks. 

"But what is it?" asked the father. "Tell me first--the restafter. "

"It is in the side--the left side, " said Anne, gathering up in heragitation the sense of the crabbed writing as best she could. "Theyhave not extracted the bullet, but when they have, he will do well. "

"God grant it! Who writes?"

"Norman Graham of Glendhu--captain in his K. K. Regiment ofVolunteer Dragoons. That's his great friend! Oh, sir, he hasbehaved so gallantly! He got his wound in saving the colours fromthe Turks, and kept his hands clutched over them as his men carriedhim out of the battle. "

Philip gave another little spring, and his grandfather bade Anneread the letter to him in detail. 

It told how the Imperial forces had met a far superior number ofTurks at Lippa, and had sustained a terrible defeat, with the lossof their General Veterani, how Captain Archfield had received ascimitar wound in the cheek while trying to save his commander, buthad afterwards dashed forward among the enemy, recovered the coloursof the regiment, and by a desperate charge of his fellow-soldiers, who were devotedly attached to him, had been borne off the fieldwith a severe wound on the left side. Retreat had been immediatelynecessary, and he had been taken on an ammunition waggon along roughroads to the fortress called the Iron Gates of Transylvania, whencethis letter was written, and sent by the messenger who was to summonthe Elector of Saxony to the aid of the remnant of the army. It hadnot yet been possible to probe the wound, but Charles gave apersonal message, begging his parents not to despond but to believehim recovering, so long as they did not see his servant returnwithout him, and he added sundry tender and dutiful messages to hisparents, and a blessing to his son, with thanks for the prettyletter he had not been able to answer (but which, his friend said, was lying spread on his pillow, not unstained with blood), and healso told his boy always to love and look up to her who had everbeen as a mother to him. Anne could hardly read this, and the scrapin feeble irregular lines she handed to Sir Philip. It was--

With all my heart I entreat pardon for all the errors that havegrieved you. I leave you my child to comfort you, and mine owntrue love, whom yon will cherish. She will cherish you as adaughter, as she will be, with your consent, if God spares me tocome home. The love of all my soul to her, my mother, sister, and you. "

There was a scrawl for conclusion and signature, and Captain Grahamadded--

Writing and dictating have greatly exhausted him. He would havesaid more, but he says the lady can explain much, and he repeatshis urgent entreaties that you will take her to your heart as adaughter, and that his son will love and honour her. 

There was a final postscript--

The surgeon thinks him better for having disburthened his mind. 

"My child, " said Sir Philip, with a long sigh, looking up at Anne, who had gathered the boy into her arms, and was hiding her faceagainst his little awe-struck head, "my child, have you read?"

"No, " faltered Anne. 

"Read then. " And as she would have taken it, he suddenly drew herinto his embrace and kissed her as the eyes of both overflowed. "Mypoor girl!" he said, "this is as hard to you as to us! Oh, my braveboy!" and he let her lay her head on his shoulder and held her handas they wept together, while little Phil stared for a moment or twoat so strange a sight and then burst out with a great cry--

"You shall not cry! you shall not! my papa is not dead!" and hestamped his little foot. "No, he isn't. He will get well; theletter said so, and I will go and tell grandmamma. "

The need of stopping this roused them both; Sir Philip, heavilygroaning, went away to break the tidings to his wife, and Anne wentdown on her knees on the hearth to caress the boy, and help him tounderstand his father's state and realise the valorous deeds thatwould always be a crown to him, and which already made the littlefellow's eye flash and his fair head go higher. 

By and by she was sent for to Lady Archfield's room, and there shehad again to share the grief and the fears and try to dwell on theglory and the hopes. When in a calmer moment the parentsinterrogated her on what had passed with Charles, it was not in thespirit of doubt and censure, but rather as dwelling on all that wasto be told of one whom alike they loved, and finally Sir Philipsaid, "I see, dear child, I would not believe how far it had gonebefore, though you tried to tell me. Whatever betide, you have wona daughter's place. "

It was true that naturally a far more distinguished match would havebeen sought for the heir, and he could hardly have carried out hispurpose without more opposition than under their present feelings, his parents supposed themselves likely to make, but they reallyloved Anne enough to have yielded at last; and Lady Nutley, cominghome with a fuller knowledge of her brother's heart, prevented anyreaction, and Anne was allowed full sympathies as a betrothedmaiden, in the wearing anxiety that continued in the absence of allintelligence. On the principle of doing everything to please him, she was even encouraged to write to Charles in the packet in whichhe was almost implored to recover, though all felt doubts whether hewere alive even while the letters were in hand, and this doubtlasted long and long. It was all very well to say that as long asthe servant did not return his master must be safe--perhaps himselfon the way home; but the journey from Transylvania was so long, andthere were so many difficulties in the way of an Englishman, thatthere was little security in this assurance. And so the winter setin while the suspense lasted; and still Dr. Woodford spoke Charles'sname in the intercessions in the panelled household chapel, and hismother and Anne prayed together and separately, and his little sonmorning and evening entreated God to "Bless papa, and make him well, and bring him home. "

Thus passed more than six weeks, during which Sir Philip's attentionwas somewhat diverted from domestic anxieties by an uninvited visitto Portchester from Mr. Charnock, who had once been a college mateof Mr. Fellowes, and came professing anxiety, after all these years, to renew the friendship which had been broken when they tookdifferent sides on the election of Dr. Hough to the Presidency ofMagdalen College. From his quarters at the Rectory Mr. Charnock hadgone over to Fareham, and sounded Sir Philip on the practicabilityof a Jacobite rising, and whether he and his people would join it. The old gentleman was much distressed, his age would not permit himto exert himself in either cause, and he had been too much disturbedby James's proceedings to feel desirous of his restoration, thoughhis loyal heart would not permit of his opposing it, and he hadnever overtly acknowledged William of Orange as his sovereign. 

He could only reply that in the present state of his family heneither could nor would undertake anything, and he urgently pleadedagainst any insurrection that could occasion a civil war. 

There was reason to think that Sedley had no hesitation in promisingto use all his influence over his uncle's tenants, and considerablymagnifying their extremely small regard to him--nay, probably, dwelling on his own expectations. 

At any rate, even when Charnock was gone, Sedley continued to talkbig of the coming changes and his own distinguished part in them. Indeed one very trying effect of the continued alarm about Charleswas that he took to haunting the place, and report declared that hehad talked loudly and coarsely of his cousin's death and his uncle'sdotage, and of his soon being called in to manage the property forthe little heir--insomuch that Sir Edmund Nutley thought itexpedient to let him know that Charles, on going on active servicesoon after he had come of age, had sent home a will, making his son, who was a young gentleman of very considerable property on hismother's side, ward to his grandfather first, and then to Sir EdmundNutley himself and to Dr. Woodford. 

CHAPTER XXVI: THE LEGEND OF PENNY GRIM

"O dearest Marjorie, stay at hame, For dark's the gate ye have to go, For there's a maike down yonder glen Hath frightened me and many me. "

HOGG. 

"Nana, " said little Philip in a meditative voice, as he looked intothe glowing embers of the hall fire, "when do fairies leave offstealing little boys?"

"I do not believe they ever steal them, Phil. "

"Oh, yes they do;" and he came and stood by her with his greatlimpid blue eyes wide open. "Goody Dearlove says they stole alittle boy, and his name was Penny Grim. "

"Goody Dearlove is a silly old body to tell my boy such stories, "said Anne, disguising how much she was startled. 

"Oh, but Ralph Huntsman says 'tis true, and he knew him. "

"How could he know him when he was stolen?"

"They put another instead, " said the boy, a little puzzled, but tooyoung to make his story consistent. "And he was an elf--a crossspiteful elf, that was always vexing folk. And they stole him againevery seven years. Yes--that was it--they stole him every sevenyears. "

"Whom, Phil; I don't understand--the boy or the elf?" she said, half-diverted, even while shocked at the old story coming up in sucha form. 

"The elf, I think, " he said, bending his brows; "he comes back, andthen they steal him again. Yes; and at last they stole him quite--quite away--but it is seven years, and Goody Dearlove says he is tobe seen again!"

"No!" exclaimed Anne, with an irrepressible start of dismay. "Hasany one seen him, or fancied so?" she added, though feeling that herchance of maintaining her rational incredulity was gone. 

"Goody Dearlove's Jenny did, " was the answer. "She saw him standout on the beach at night by moonlight, and when she screamed out, he was gone like the snuff of a candle. "

"Saw him? What was he like?" said Anne, struggling for thedispassionate tone of the governess, and recollecting that JennyDearlove was a maid at Portchester Rectory. 

"A little bit of a man, all twisty on one side, and a feathersticking out. Ralph said they always were like that;" and Phil'simitation, with his lithe, graceful little figure, of Ralph's clumsymimicry was sufficient to show that there was some foundation forthis story, and she did not answer at once, so that he added, "I amseven, Nana; do you think they will get me?"

"Oh no, no, Phil, there's no fear at all of that. I don't believefairies steal anybody, but even old women like Goody Dearlove onlysay they steal little tiny babies if they are left alone before theyare christened. "

The boy drew a long breath, but still asked, "Was Penny Grim alittle baby?"

"So they said, " returned Anne, by no means interfering with thename, and with a quailing heart as she thought of the child's everknowing what concern his father had in that disappearance. She wasby no means sorry to have the conversation broken off by SirPhilip's appearance, booted and buskined, prepared for an expeditionto visit a flock of sheep and their lambs under the shelter ofPortsdown Hill, and in a moment his little namesake was friskinground eager to go with grandpapa. 

"Well, 'tis a brisk frost. Is it too far for him, think you, Mistress Anne?"

"Oh no, sir; he is a strong little man and a walk will only be goodfor him, if he does not stand still too long and get chilled. Run, Phil, and ask nurse for your thick coat and stout shoes andleggings. "

"His grandmother only half trusts me with him, " said Sir Philip, laughing. "I tell her she was not nearly so careful of his father. I remember him coming in crusted all over with ice, so that he couldhardly get his clothes off, but she fancies the boy may have some ofhis poor mother's weakliness about him. "

"I see no tokens of it, sir. "

"Grand-dames will be anxious, specially over one chick. Heigho!Winter travelling must be hard in Germany, and posts do not come. How now, my man! Are you rolled up like a very Russian bear? Thepoor ewes will think you are come to eat up their lambs. "

"I'll growl at them, " said Master Philip, uttering a soundsufficient to disturb the nerves of any sheep if he were permittedto make it, and off went grandfather and grandson together, SirPhilip only pausing at the door to say--

"My lady wants you, Anne; she is fretting over the delay. I fear, though I tell her it bodes well. "

Anne watched for a moment the hale old gentleman briskly walking on, the merry child frolicking hither and thither round him, and thesturdy body-servant Ralph, without whom he never stirred, ploddingafter, while Keeper, the only dog allowed to follow to thesheepfolds, marched decorously along, proud of the distinction. Then she went up to Lady Archfield, who could not be perfectly easyas to the precious grandchild being left to his own devices in thecold, while Sir Philip was sure to run into a discussion with theshepherd over the turnips, which were too much of a novelty to beapproved by the Hampshire mind. It was quite true that she couldnot watch that little adventurous spirit with the same absence ofanxiety as she had felt for her own son in her younger days, andAnne had to devote herself to soothing and diverting her mind, tillDr. Woodford knocked at the door to read and converse with her. 

The one o'clock dinner waited for the grandfather and grandson, andwhen they came at last, little Philip looked somewhat blue with coldand more subdued than usual, and his grandfather observed severelythat he had been a naughty boy, running into dangerous places, sliding where he ought not, and then muttered under his breath thatSedley ought to have known better than to have let him go there. 

Discipline did not permit even a darling like little Phil to speakat dinner-time; but he fidgeted, and the tears came into his eyes, and Anne hearing a little grunt behind Sir Philip's chair, lookedup, and was aware that old Ralph was mumbling what to her earssounded like: 'Knew too well. ' But his master, being slightlydeaf, did not hear, and went on to talk of his lambs and of howSedley had joined them on the road, but had not come back to dinner. 

Phil was certainly quieter than usual that afternoon, and sat atAnne's feet by the fire, filling little sacks with bran to be loadedon his toy cart to go to the mill, but not chattering as usual. Shethought him tired, and hearing a sort of sigh took him on her knee, when he rested his fair little head on her shoulder, and presentlysaid in a low voice--

"I've seen him. "

"Who? Not your father? Oh, my child!" cried Anne, in a suddenhorror. 

"Oh no--the Penny Grim thing. "

"What? Tell me, Phil dear, how or where?"

"By the end of the great big pond; and he threw up his arms, andmade a horrid grin. " The boy trembled and hid his face against her. 

"But go on, Phil. He can't hurt you, you know. Do tell me. Wherewere you?"

"I was sliding on the ice. Grandpapa was ever so long talking toBill Shepherd, and looking at the men cutting turnips, and I gotcold and tired, and ran about with Cousin Sedley till we got to thebig pond, and we began to slide, and the ice was so nice and hard--you can't think. He showed me how to take a good long slide, andsaid I might go out to the other end of the pond by the copse, bythe great old tree. And I set off, but before I got there, out itjumped, out of the copse, and waved its arms, and made _that_ face. "

He cowered into her bosom again and almost cried. Anne knew theplace, and was ready to start with dismay in her turn. It was sucha pool as is frequent in chalk districts--shallow at one end, butdeep and dangerous with springs at the other. 

"But, Phil dear, " she said, "it was well you were stopped; the icemost likely would have broken at that end, and then where wouldNana's little man have been?"

"Cousin Sedley never told me not, " said the boy in self-defence; "hewas whistling to me to go on. But when I tumbled down Ralph andgrandpapa and all _did_ scold me so--and Cousin Sedley was gone. Why did they scold me, Nana? I thought it was brave not to minddanger--like papa. "

"It is brave when one can do any good by it, but not to slide on badice, when one must be drowned, " said Anne. "Oh, my dear, dearlittle fellow, it was a blessed thing you saw _that_, whatever itwas! But why do you call it Pere--Penny Grim?"

"It was, Nana! It was a little man--rather. And one-sided looking, with a bit of hair sticking out, just like the picture of Riquet-with-a-tuft in your French fairy-book. "

This last was convincing to Anne that the child must have seen thephantom of seven years ago, since he was not repeating the populardescription he had given her in the morning, but one quite asindividual. She asked if grandpapa had seen it. 

"Oh no; he was in the shed, and only came out when he heard Ralphscolding me. Was it a wicked urchin come to steal me, Nana?"

"No, I think not, " she answered. "Whatever it was, I think it camebecause God was taking care of His child, and warning him fromsliding into the deep pool. We will thank him, Phil. 'He shallgive his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. '"And to that verse she soothed the tired child till he fell asleep, and she could lay him on the settle, and cover him with a cloak, musing the while on the strange story, until presently she startedup and repaired to the buttery in search of the old servant. 

"Ralph, what is this Master Philip tells me?" she asked. "What hashe seen?"

"Well, Mistress Anne, that is what I can't tell--no, not I; but Iknows this, that the child has had a narrow escape of his preciouslife, and I'd never trust him again with that there Sedley--no, notfor hundreds of pounds. "

"You _really_ think, Ralph--?"

"What can I think, ma'am? When I finds he's been a-setting thatthere child to slide up to where he'd be drownded as sure as he'salive, and you see, if we gets ill news of Master Archfield (whichGod forbid), there's naught but the boy atween him and this hereplace--and he over head and ears in debt. Be it what it might thatthe child saw, it saved the life of him. "

"Did you see it?"

"No, Mistress Anne; I can't say as I did. I only heard the littlemaster cry out as he fell. I was in the shed, you see, taking apipe to keep me warm. And when I took him up, he cried out like onedazed. 'Twas Penny Grim, Ralph! Keep me. He is come to steal me. "But Sir Philip wouldn't hear nothing of it, only blamed Master Philfor being foolhardy, and for crying for the fall, and me for lettinghim out of sight. "

"And Mr. Sedley--did he see it?"

"Well, mayhap he did, for I saw him as white as a sheet and his eyesstaring out of his head; but that might have been his evilconscience. "

"What became of him?"

"To say the truth, ma'am, I believe he be at the Brocas Arms, a-drowning of his fright--if fright it were, with Master Harling'sstrong waters. "

"But this apparition, this shape--or whatever it is? What put itinto Master Philip's head? What has been heard of it?"

Ralph looked unwilling. "Bless you, Mistress Anne, there's beensome idle talk among the women folk, as how that there crooked slipof Major Oakshott's, as they called Master Perry or Penny, and saidwas a changeling, has been seen once and again. Some says as thefairies have got him, and 'tis the seven year for him to come backagain. And some says that he met with foul play, and 'tis the ghostof him, but I holds it all mere tales, and I be sure 'twere nothingbad as stopped little master on that there pond. So I be. "

Anne could not but be of the same mind, but her confusion, alarm, and perplexity were great. It seemed strange, granting that thiswere either spirit or elf connected with Peregrine Oakshott, that itshould interfere on behalf of Charles Archfield's child, and on thesweet hypothesis that a guardian angel had come to save the child, it was in a most unaccountable form. 

And more pressing than any such mysterious idea was the tangiblehorror of Ralph's suggestion, too well borne out by the boy's ownunconscious account of the adventure. It was too dreadful, too reala peril to be kept to herself, and she carried the story to heruncle on his return, but without speaking of the spectral warning. Not only did she know that he would not attend to it, but the hint, heard for the first time, that Peregrine was supposed to have metwith foul play, sealed her lips, just when she still was hopingagainst hope that Charles might be on the way home. But that Ralphbelieved, and little Philip's own account confirmed, that his cousinhad incited the little heir to the slide that would have been fatalsave for his fall, she told with detail, and entreated that thegrandfather might be warned, and some means be found of ensuring thesafety of her darling, the motherless child!

To her disappointment Dr. Woodford was not willing to take alarm. He did not think so ill of Sedley as to believe him capable of sucha secret act of murder, and he had no great faith in Ralph'ssagacity, besides that he thought his niece's nerves too muchstrained by the long suspense to be able to judge fairly. Hethought it would be cruel to the grandparents, and unjust to Sedley, to make such a frightful suggestion without further grounds duringtheir present state of anxiety, and as to the boy's safety, whichAnne pleaded with an uncontrollable passion of tears, he believedthat it was provided for by watchfulness on the part of his twoconstant guardians, as well as himself, since, even supposing theshocking accusation to be true, Sedley would not involve himself indanger of suspicion, and it was already understood that he was not afit companion for his little cousin to be trusted with. Philip hadalready brought home words and asked questions that distressed hisgrandmother, and nobody was willing to leave him alone with the ex-lieutenant. So again the poor maiden had to hold her peace under anadded burthen of anxiety and many a prayer. 

When the country was ringing with the tidings of Sir GeorgeBarclay's conspiracy for the assassination of William III, it wasimpossible not to hope that Sedley's boastful tongue might havebrought him sufficiently under suspicion to be kept for a whileunder lock and key; but though he did not appear at Fareham, therewas reason to suppose that he was as usual haunting the taverns andcockpits of Portsmouth. 

No one went much abroad that winter. Sir Philip, perhaps fromanxiety and fretting, had a fit of the gout, and Anne kept herselfand her charge within the garden or the street of the town. In factthere was a good deal of danger on the roads. The neighbourhood ofthe seaport was always lawless, and had become more so since SirPhilip had ceased to act as Justice of the Peace, and there werereports of highway robberies of an audacious kind, said to beperpetrated by a band calling themselves the Black Gang, under aleader known as Piers Pigwiggin, who were alleged to be halfsmuggler, half Jacobite, and to have their headquarters somewhere inthe back of the Isle of Wight, in spite of the Governor, theterrible Salamander, Lord Cutts, who was, indeed, generally absentwith the army. 

CHAPTER XXVII: THE VAULT

"Heaven awards the vengeance due. "

COWPER. 

The weary days had begun to lengthen before the door of the hall wasflung open, and little Phil, forgetting his bow at the door, rushedin, "Here's a big packet from foreign parts! Harry had to pay everso much for it. "

"I have wellnigh left off hoping, " sighed the poor mother. "Tell methe worst at once. "

"No fear, my lady, " said her husband. "Thank God! 'Tis our son'shand. "

There was the silence for a moment of intense relief, and then thelittle boy was called to cut the silk and break the seals. 

Joy ineffable! There were three letters--for Master PhilipArchfield, for Mistress Anne Jacobina Woodford, and for Sir Philiphimself. The old gentleman glanced over it, caught the words'better, ' and 'coming home, ' then failed to read through tears ofjoy as before through tears of sorrow, and was fain to hand thesheet to his old friend to be read aloud, while little Philip, handling as a treasure the first letter he had ever received, thoughas yet he was unable to decipher it, stood between his grandfather'sknees listening as Dr. Woodford read--

DEAR AND HONOURED SIR--I must ask your pardon for leaving youwithout tidings so long, but while my recovery still hung indoubt I thought it would only distress you to hear of thefluctuations that I went through, and the pain to which thesurgeons put me for a long time in vain. Indeed frequently I hadno power either to think or speak, until at last with muchdifficulty, and little knowledge or volition of my own, myinestimable friend Graham brought me to Vienna, where I have atlength been relieved from my troublesome companion, and amenjoying the utmost care and kindness from my friend's mother, anear kinswoman, as indeed he is himself, of the brave andlamented Viscount Dundee. My wound is healing finally, as Ihope, and though I have not yet left my bed, my friends assure methat I am on the way to full and complete recovery, for which Iam more thankful to the Almighty than I could have been before Iknew what suffering and illness meant. As soon as I can rideagain, which they tell me will be in a fortnight or three weeks, I mean to set forth on my way home. I cannot describe to you howI am longing after the sight of you all, nor how home-sick I havebecome. I never had time for it before, but I have lain forhours bringing all your faces before me, my father's, andmother's, my sister's, and that of her whom I hope to call myown; and figuring to myself that of the little one. I havethought much over my past life, and become sensible of much thatwas amiss, and while earnestly entreating your forgiveness, especially for having absented myself all these years, I hope toreturn so as to be more of a comfort than I was in the days of myrash and inconsiderate youth. I am of course at presentinvalided, but I want to consult you, honoured sir, beforedeciding whether it be expedient for me to resign my commission. How I thank and bless you for the permission you have given me, and the love you bear to my own heart's joy, no words can tell. It shall be the study of my life to be worthy of her and of you. --And so no more from your loving and dutiful son, CHARLESARCHFIELD. 

Having drunk in these words with her ears, Anne left Phil to havehis note interpreted by his grandparents, and fled away to enjoy herown in her chamber, yet it was as short as could be and as sweet. 

Mine own, mine own sweet Anne, sweetheart of good old days, yourletter gave me strength to go through with it. The doctors couldnot guess why I was so much better and smiled through all theirtorments. These are our first, I hope our last letters, for Ishall soon follow them home, and mine own darling will be mine. --Thine own, C. A. 

She had but short time to dwell on it and kiss it, for little Philipwas upon her, waving his letter, which he already knew by heart; andgalloping all over the house to proclaim the good news to the oldservants, who came crowding into the hall, trembling with joy, toask if there were indeed tidings of Mr. Archfield's return, whereupon the glad father caused his grandson to carry each a fullglass of wine to drink to the health of the young master. 

Anne had at first felt only the surpassing rapture of therestoration of Charles, but there ensued another delight in thesecurity his recovery gave to the life of his son. Sedley Archfieldwould not be likely to renew his attempt, and if only on thataccount the good news should be spread as widely as possible. Shewas the first to suggest the relief it would be to Mr. Fellowes, whohad never divested himself of the feeling that he ought to havedivined his pupil's intention. 

Dr. Woodford offered to ride to Portchester with the news, and SirPhilip, in the gladness of his heart, proposed that Anne should gowith him and see her friend. 

Shall it be told how on the way Anne's mind was assailed by femininemisgivings whether three and twenty could be as fair in hersoldier's eyes as seventeen had been? Old maidenhood came earlierthen than in these days, and Anne knew that she was looked upon asan old waiting-gentlewoman or governess by the belles of Winchester. Her glass might tell her that her eyes were as softly brown, herhair as abundant, her cheek as clear and delicately moulded as ever, but there was no one to assure her that the early bloom had notpassed away, and that she had not rather gained than lost in dignityof bearing and the stately poise of the head, which the jealousdamsels called Court airs. "And should he be disappointed, I shallsee it in his eyes, " she said to herself, "and then his promiseshall not bind him, though it will break my heart, and oh! how hardto resign my Phil to a strange stepmother. " Still her heart waslighter than for many a long year, as she cantered along in thebrisk March air, while the drops left by the departing frostglistened in the sunshine, and the sea lay stretched in a delicategray haze. The old castle rose before her in its familiar home-likemassiveness as they turned towards the Rectory, where in thatsheltered spot the well-known clusters of crocuses were openingtheir golden hearts to the sunshine, and recalling the days whenAnne was as sunny-hearted as they, and she felt as if she could beas bright again. 

In Mrs. Fellowes's parlour they found an unexpected guest, no otherthan Mrs. Oakshott. 

'Gadding about' not being the fashion of the Archfield household, Anne had not seen the lady for several years, and was agreeablysurprised by her appearance. Perhaps the marks of smallpox hadfaded, perhaps motherhood had given expression, and what had beengaunt ungainliness in the maiden had rounded into a certainimportance in the matron, nor had her dress, though quiet, any ofthe Puritan rigid ugliness that had been complained of, and thoughcertainly not beautiful, she was a person to inspire respect. 

It was explained that she was waiting for her husband, who was gonewith Mr. Fellowes to speak to the officer in command of the soldiersat the castle. "For, " said she, "I am quite convinced that there issomething that ought to be brought to light, and it may be in thatvault. "

Anne's heart gave such a throb as almost choked her. 

Dr. Woodford asked what the lady meant. 

"Well, sir, when spirits and things 'tis not well to talk of arestarting up and about here, there, and everywhere, 'tis plain theremust be cause for it. "

"I do not quite take your meaning, madam. "

"Ah, well! you gentlemen, reverend ones especially, are the last tohear such things. There's the poor old Major, he won't believe aword of it, but you know, Mistress Woodford. I see it in your face. Have you seen anything?"

"Not here, not now, " faltered Anne. "You have, Mrs. Fellowes?"

"I have heard of some foolish fright of the maids, " said Naomi, "partly their own fancy, or perhaps caught from the sentry. Thereis no keeping those giddy girls from running after the soldiers. "

Perhaps Naomi hoped by throwing out this hint to conduct hervisitors off into the safer topic of domestic delinquencies, butMrs. Oakshott was far too earnest to be thus diverted, and sheexclaimed, "Ah, they saw him, I'll warrant!"

"Him?" the Doctor asked innocently. 

"Him or his likeness, " said Mrs. Oakshott, "my poor brother-in-law, Peregrine Oakshott; you remember him, sir? He always said, poorlad, that you and Mrs. Woodford were kinder to him than his ownflesh and blood, except his uncle, Sir Peregrine. For my part, Inever did give in to all the nonsense folk talked about his being achangeling or at best a limb of Satan. He had more spirit and sensethan the rest of them, and they led him the life of a dog, thoughthey knew no better. If I had had him at Emsworth, I would haveshown them what he was;" and she sighed heavily. "Well, I did notso much wonder when he disappeared, I made sure that he could bearit no longer and had run away. I waited as long as there was anyreason, till there should be tidings of him, and only took hisbrother at last because I found they could not do without me athome. "

Remarkable frankness! but it struck both the Doctor and Anne that ifPeregrine could have submitted, his life might have been freer andless unhappy than he had expected, though Mrs. Martha spoke thebroadest Hampshire. 

Naomi asked, "Then you no longer think that he ran away?"

"No, madam; I am certain there was worse than that. You rememberthe night of the bonfire for the Bishops' acquittal, Miss Woodford?"

"Indeed I do. "

"Well, he was never seen again after that, as you know. The placewas full of wild folk. There was brawling right and left. "

"Were you there?" asked Anne surprised. 

"Yes; in my coach with my uncle and aunt that lived with me, though, except Robin, none of the young sparks would come near me, exceptsome that I knew were after my pockets, " said Martha, with a good-humoured laugh. "Properly frightened we were too by the brawlingsailors ere we got home! Now, what could be more likely than thatsome of them got hold of poor Perry? You know he always would goabout with the rapier he brought from Germany, with amber set in thehilt, and the mosaic snuff-box he got in Italy, and what could belooked for but that the poor dear lad should be put out of the wayfor the sake of these gewgaws?" This supposition was gratifying toAnne, but her uncle must needs ask why Mrs. Oakshott thought so morethan before. 

"Because, " she said impressively, "there is no doubt but that he hasbeen seen, and not in the flesh, once and again, and always aboutthese ruins. "

"By whom, madam, may I ask?"

"Mrs. Fellowes's maids, as she knows, saw him once on the beach atnight, just there. The sentry, who is Tom Hart, from our parish, saw a shape at the opening of the old vault before the keep andchallenged him, when he vanished out of sight ere there was time topresent a musket. There was once more, when one moonlight night oursexton, looking out of his cottage window, saw what he declares wasnone other than Master Perry standing among the graves of ourfamily, as if, poor youth, he were asking why he was not among them. When I heard that, I said to my husband, 'Depend upon it, ' says I, 'he met with his death that night, and was thrown into some hole, and that's the reason he cannot rest. If I pay a hundred pounds forit, I'll not give up till his poor corpse is found to have Christianburial, and I'll begin with the old vault at Portchester!' My goodfather, the Major, would not hear of it at first, nor my husbandeither, but 'tis my money, and I know how to tackle Robin. "

It was with strangely mingled feelings that Anne listened. Thatsearch in the vault, inaugurated by faithful Martha, was what shehad always felt ought to be made, and she had even promised toattempt it if the apparitions recurred. The notion of the deedbeing attributed to lawless sailors and smugglers or highwaymen, whowere known to swarm in the neighbourhood, seemed to remove alldanger of suspicion. Yet she could not divest herself of a vaguesense of alarm at this stirring up of what had slept for sevenyears. Neither she nor her uncle deemed it needful to mention theappearance seen by little Philip, but to her surprise Naomi slowlyand hesitatingly said it was very remarkable, that her husbandhaving occasion to be at the church at dusk one evening just afterMidsummer, had certainly seen a figure close to Mrs. Woodford'sgrave, and lost sight of it before he could speak of it. He thoughtnothing more of it till these reports began to be spread, but he hadthen recollected that it answered the descriptions given of thephantom. 

Here the ladies were interrupted by the appearance of Mr. Fellowesand Robert Oakshott, now grown into a somewhat heavy but by no meansfoolish-looking young man. 

"Well, madam, " said he, in Hampshire as broad as his wife's, "youwill have your will. Not that Captain Henslowe believes a word ofyour ghosts--not he; but he took fire when he heard of queer sightsabout the castle. He sent for the chap who stood sentry, and wasdownright sharp on him for not reporting what he had seen, and he isordering out a sergeant's party to open the vault, so you may comeand see, if you have any stomach for it. "

"I could not but come!" said Madam Oakshott, who certainly did notlook squeamish, but who was far more in earnest than her husband, and perhaps doubted whether without her presence the quest would bethorough. Anne was full of dread, and almost sick at the thought ofwhat she might see, but she was far too anxious to stay away. Mrs. Fellowes made some excuse about the children for not accompanyingthem. 

It always thrilled Anne to enter that old castle court, the familiarand beloved play-place of her childhood, full of memories of Charlesand of Lucy, and containing in its wide precincts the churchyardwhere her mother lay. She moved along in a kind of dream, glad tobe let alone, since Mr. Fellowes naturally attended Mrs. Oakshott, and Robert was fully occupied in explaining to the Doctor that heonly gave in to this affair for the sake of pacifying madam, sincewomen folk would have their little megrims. Assuredly that tall, solid, resolute figure stalking on in front, looked as littlesubject to megrims as any of her sex. Her determination had broughther husband thither, and her determination further carried the day, when the captain, after staring at the solid-looking turf, stampingon the one stone that was visible, and trampling down the bunch ofnettles beside it, declared that the entrance had been so thoroughlystopped that it was of no use to dig farther. It was Madam Marthawho demanded permission to offer the four soldiers a crown apiece ifthey opened the vault, a guinea each if they found anything. Thecaptain could not choose but grant it, though with something of asneer, and the work was begun. He walked up and down with Robert, joining in hopes that the lady would be satisfied before dinner-time. The two clergymen likewise walked together, arguing, as wastheir wont, on the credibility of apparitions. The two ladies stoodin almost breathless watch, as the bricks that had covered in theopening were removed, and the dark hole brought to light. Contraryto expectation, when the opening had been enlarged, it was foundthat there were several steps of stone, and where they were brokenaway, there was a rude ladder. 

A lantern was fetched from the guard-room in the bailey, and aftermuch shaking and trying of the ladder, one of the soldiersdescended, finding the place less deep than was commonly supposed, and soon calling out that he was at the bottom. Another followedhim, and presently there was a shout. Something was found! "Arusty old chain, no doubt, " grumbled Robert; but his wife shrieked. It was a sword in its sheath, the belt rotted, the clasp tarnished, but of silver. Mrs. Oakshott seized it at once, rubbed away thedust from the handle, and brought to light a glistening yellow pieceof amber, which she mutely held up, and another touch of herhandkerchief disclosed on a silver plate in the scabbard an oak-tree, the family crest, and the twisted cypher P. O. Her eyes werefull of tears, and she did not speak. Anne, white and trembling, was forced to sink down on the stone, unnoticed by all, while RobertOakshott, convinced indeed, hastily went down himself. The swordhad been hidden in a sort of hollow under the remains of the brokenstair. Thence likewise came to light the mouldy remnant of a broadhat and the quill of its plume, and what had once been a coat, evenin its present state showing that it had been soaked through andthrough with blood, the same stains visible on the watch and themosaic snuff-box. That was all; there was no purse, and no othergarments, though, considering the condition of the coat, they mighthave been entirely destroyed by the rats and mice. There was indeeda fragment of a handkerchief, with the cypher worked on it, whichMrs. Oakshott showed to Anne with the tears in her eyes: "There! Iworked that, though he never knew it. No! I know he did not likeme! But I would have made him do so at last. I would have been sogood to him. Poor fellow, that he should have been lying there allthis time!"

Lying there; but where, then, was he? No signs of any corpse wereto be found, though one after another all the gentlemen descended tolook, and Mrs. Oakshott was only withheld by her husband's urgentrepresentations, and promise to superintend a diligent digging inthe ground, so as to ascertain whether there had been a hasty burialthere. 

Altogether, Anne was so much astonished and appalled that she couldhardly restrain herself, and her mind reverted to Bishop Ken'stheory that Peregrine still lived; but this was contradicted by theappearance at Douai, which did not rest on the evidence of hersingle perceptions. 

Mrs. Fellowes sent out an entreaty that they would come to dinner, and the gentlemen were actually base enough to wish to comply, sothat the two ladies had no choice save to come with them, especiallyas the soldiers were unwilling to work on without their meal. Neither Mrs. Oakshott nor Anne felt as if they could swallow, andthe polite pressure to eat was only preferable in Anne's eyes to theconversation on the discoveries that had been made, especially theconclusion arrived at by all, that though the purse and rings hadnot been found, the presence of the watch and snuff-box precludedthe idea of robbery. 

"These would be found on the body, " said Mr. Oakshott. "I couldswear to the purse. You remember, madam, your uncle bantering himabout French ladies and their finery, asking whose token it was, andhow black my father looked? Poor Perry, if my father could have hada little patience with him, he would not have gone roaming about andgetting into brawls, and we need not be looking for him in yonderblack pit. "

"You'll never find him there, Master Robert, " spoke out the oldOakwood servant, behind Mrs. Oakshott's chair, free and easy afterthe manner of the time. 

"And wherefore not, Jonadab?" demanded his mistress, by no meanssurprised at the liberty. 

"Why, ma'am, 'twas the seven years, you sees, and in course whenthem you wot of had power to carry him off, they could not take hissword, nor his hat, not they couldn't. "

"How about his purse, then?" put in Dr. Woodford. 

"I'll be bound you will find it yet, sir, " responded Jonadab, by nomeans disconcerted, "leastways unless some two-legged fairies havegot it. "

At this some of the party found it impossible not to laugh, and thisso upset poor Martha's composure that she was obliged to leave thetable, and Anne was not sorry for the excuse of attending her, although there were stings of pain in all her rambling lamentationsand conjectures. 

Very tardily, according to the feelings of the anxious women, wasthe dinner finished, and their companions ready to take them outagain. Indeed, Madam Oakshott at last repaired to the dining-parlour, and roused her husband from his glass of Spanish wine torenew the search. She would not listen to Mrs. Fellowes's advicenot to go out again, and Anne could not abstain either from watchingfor what could not be other than grievous and mournful to behold. 

The soldiers were called out again by their captain, and reinforcedby the Rectory servant and Jonadab. 

There was an interval of anxious prowling round the opening. Mr. Oakshott and the captain had gone down again, and found, what themilitary man was anxious about, that if there were passages to theouter air, they had been well blocked up and not re-opened. 

Meantime the digging proceeded. 

It was just at twilight that a voice below uttered an exclamation. Then came a pause. The old sergeant's voice ordered care and apause, somewhere below the opening with, "Sir, the spades have hitupon a skull. "

There was a shuddering pause. All the gentlemen except Dr. Woodford, who feared the chill, descended again. Mrs. Oakshott andAnne held each other's hands and trembled. 

By and by Mr. Fellowes came up first. "We have found, " he said, looking pale and grave, "a skeleton. Yes, a perfect skeleton, butno more--no remains except a fine dust. "

And Robert Oakshott following, awe-struck and sorrowful, added, "Yes, there he is, poor Perry--all that is left of him--only hisbones. No, madam, we must leave him there for the present; wecannot bring it up without preparation. "

"You need not fear meddling curiosity, madam, " said the captain. "Iwill post a sentry here to bar all entrance. "

"Thanks, sir, " said Robert. "That will be well till I can bury thepoor fellow with all due respect by my mother and Oliver. "

"And then I trust his spirit will have rest, " said Martha Oakshottfervently. "And now home to your father. How will he bear it, sir?"

"I verily believe he will sleep the quieter for knowing for acertainty what has become of poor Peregrine, " said her husband. 

And Anne felt as if half her burthen of secrecy was gone when theyall parted, starting early because the Black Gang rendered all theroads unsafe after dark. 

CHAPTER XXVIII: THE DISCLOSURE

"He looked about as one betrayed, What hath he done, what promise made?Oh! weak, weak moment, to what endCan such a vain oblation tend?"

WORDSWORTH. 

For the most part Anne was able to hold her peace and keep out ofsight while Dr. Woodford related the strange revelations of thevault with all the circumstantiality that was desired by two oldpeople living a secluded life and concerned about a neighbour ofmany years, whom they had come to esteem by force of a certainsympathy in honest opposition. The mystery occupied them entirely, for though the murder was naturally ascribed to some of the lawlesscoast population, the valuables remaining with the clothes made astrange feature in the case. 

It was known that there was to be an inquest held on the remainsbefore their removal, and Dr. Woodford, both from his own interestin the question, and as family intelligencer, rode to the castle. Sir Philip longed to go, but it was a cold wet day, and he hadthreatenings of gout, so that he was persuaded to remain by thefireside. Inquests were then always held where the body lay, andthe court of Portchester Castle was no place for him on such a day. 

Dr. Woodford came home just before twilight, looking grave andtroubled, and, much to Anne's alarm, desired to speak to Sir Philipprivately in the gun-room. Lady Archfield took alarm, and muchdistressed her by continually asking what could be the meaning ofthe interview, and making all sorts of guesses. 

When at last they came together into the parlour the poor ladylooked so anxious and frightened that her husband went up to her andsaid, "Do not be alarmed, sweetheart. We shall clear him; but thosefoolish fellows have let suspicion fall on poor Sedley. "

Nobody looked at Anne, or her deadly paleness must have beenremarked, and the trembling which she could hardly control byclasping her hands tightly together, keeping her feet hard on thefloor, and setting her teeth. 

Lady Archfield was perhaps less fond of the scapegrace nephew thanwas her husband, and she felt the matter chiefly as it affected him, so that she heard with more equanimity than he had done; and as theysat round the fire in the half-light, for which Anne was thankful, the Doctor gave his narration in order. 

"I found a large company assembled in the castle court, waiting forthe coroner from Portsmouth, though the sentry on guard would allowno one to go down, in spite of some, even ladies, I am ashamed tosay, who offered him bribes for the permission. Everything, Iheard, had been replaced as we found it. The poor Major himself wasthere, looking sadly broken, and much needing the help of his son'sarm. 'To think that I was blaming my poor son as a mere reprobate, and praying for his conversion, ' says he, 'when he was lying here, cut off without a moment for repentance. ' There was your nephew, suspecting nothing, Squire Brocas, Mr. Eyre, of Botley Grange, Mr. Biden, Mr. Larcom, and Mr. Bargus, and a good many more, besides Dr. James Yonge, the naval doctor, and the Mayor of Portsmouth, and morethan I can tell you. When the coroner came, and the jury had beensworn in, they went down and viewed the spot, and all that wasthere. The soldiers had put candles round, and a huge place it is, all built up with large stones. Then, as it was raining hard, theyadjourned to the great room in the keep and took the evidence. Robert Oakshott identified the clothes and the watch clearly enough, and said he had no doubt that the other remains were Peregrine's;but as to swearing to a brother's bones, no one could do that; andDr. Yonge said in my ear that if the deceased were so small a man asfolks said, the skeleton could scarce be his, for he thought it hadbelonged to a large-framed person. That struck no one else, fornaturally it is only a chirurgeon who is used to reckon theproportion that the bones bear to the body, and I also asked himwhether in seven years the other parts would be so entirelyconsumed, to which he answered that so much would depend on thenature of the soil that there was no telling. However, jury andcoroner seemed to feel no doubt, and that old seafaring man, TomBlock, declared that poor Master Peregrine had been hand and glovewith a lot of wild chaps, and that the vault had been well known tothem before the gentlemen had had it blocked up. Then it was askedwho had seen him last, and Robert Oakshott spoke of having partedwith him at the bonfire, and never seen him again. There, I fancy, it would have ended in a verdict of wilful murder against someperson or persons unknown, but Robert Oakshott must needs say, "Iwould give a hundred pounds to know who the villain was. " And thenwho should get up but George Rackstone, with "Please your Honour, Icould tell summat. " The coroner bade swear him, and he deposed tohaving seen Master Peregrine going down towards the castle somewhereabout four o'clock that morning after the bonfire when he wasgetting up to go to his mowing. But that was not all. Youremember, Anne, that his father's cottage stands on the road towardsPortsmouth. Well, he brought up the story of your running in there, frightened, the day before the bonfire, when I was praying with hissick mother, calling on me to stop a fray between Peregrine andyoung Sedley, and I had to get up and tell of Sedley's rudeness toyou, child. "

"What was that?" hastily asked Lady Archfield. 

"The old story, my lady. The young officer's swaggering attempt tokiss the girl he meets on the road. I doubt even if he knew at themoment that it was my niece. Peregrine was coming by at the moment, and interfered to protect her, and swords were drawn. I could notdeny it, nor that there was ill blood between the lads; and thenyoung Brocas, who was later on Portsdown than we were, rememberedhigh words, and had thought to himself that there would be achallenge. And next old Goody Spore recollects seeing Master Sedleyand another soldier officer out on the Portsmouth road early thatmorning. The hay was making in the court then, and Jenny Lightremembered that when the haymakers came she raked up something thatlooked like a bloody spot, and showed it to one of the others, butthey told her that most likely a rabbit or a hare had been killedthere, and she had best take no heed. Probably there was dread ofgetting into trouble about a smugglers' fray. Well, every one waslooking askance at Master Sedley by this time, and the coroner askedhim if he had anything to say. He spoke out boldly enough. Heowned to the dispute with Peregrine Oakshott, and to having partedwith him that night on terms which would only admit of a challenge. He wrote a cartel that night, and sent it by his friend LieutenantAinslie, but doubting whether Major Oakshott might not prevent itsdelivery, he charged him to try to find Peregrine outside the house, and arrange with him a meeting on the hill, where you know theduellists of the garrison are wont to transact such encounters. Sedley himself walked out part of the way with his friend, butneither of them saw Peregrine, nor heard anything of him. So heavers, but when asked for his witness to corroborate the story, hesays that Ainslie, I fear the only person who could have proved analibi--if so it were--was killed at Landen; but, he added, certainlywith too much of his rough way, it was a mere absurdity to charge itupon him. What should a gentleman have to do with private murdersand robberies? Nor did he believe the bones to be Perry Oakshott'sat all. It was all a bit of Whiggish spite! He worked himself intoa passion, which only added to the impression against him; and I ownI cannot wonder that the verdict has sent him to Winchester to takehis trial. Why, Anne, child, how now?"

"'Tis a terrible story. Take my essences, child, " said LadyArchfield, tottering across, and Anne, just saving herself fromfainting by a long gasp at them, let herself be led from the room. The maids buzzed about her, and for some time she was sensible ofnothing but a longing to get rid of them, and to be left alone toface the grievous state of things which she did not yet understand. At last, with kind good-nights from Lady Archfield, such as shecould hardly return, she was left by herself in the darkness torecover from the stunned helpless feeling of the first moment. 

Sedley accused! Charles to be sacrificed to save his worthlesscousin, the would-be murderer of his innocent child, who morallythus deserved to suffer! Never, never! She could not do so. Itwould be treason to her benefactors, nay, absolute injustice, forCharles had struck in generous defence of herself; but Sedley hadtried to allure the boy to his death merely for his own advantage. Should she not be justified in simply keeping silence? Yet therewas like an arrow in her heart, the sense of guilt in so doing, guilt towards God and truth, guilt towards man and justice. Sheshould die under the load, and it would be for Charles. Might itonly be before he came home, then he would know that she hadperished under his secret to save him. Nay, but would he bethankful at being saved at the expense of his cousin's life? If hecame, how should she meet him?

The sense of the certain indignation of a good and noble humanspirit often awakes the full perception of what an action would bein the sight of Heaven, and Anne began to realise the sin more thanat first, and to feel the compulsion of truth. If only Charles werenot coming home she could write to him and warn him, but the thoughtthat he might be already on the way had turned from joy to agony. "And to think, " she said to herself, "that I was fretting as towhether he would think me pretty!"

She tossed about in misery, every now and then rising on her kneesto pray--at first for Charles's safety--for she shrank from askingfor Divine protection, knowing only too well what that would be. Gradually, however, a shudder came over her at the thought that ifshe would not commit her way unto the Lord, she might indeed be theundoing of her lover, and then once more the higher sense of dutyrose on her. She prayed for forgiveness for the thought, and thatit might not be visited upon him; she prayed for strength to do whatmust be her duty, for safety for him, and comfort to his parents, and so, in passing gusts of misery and apprehension, of failingheart and recovered resolution, of anguish and of prayer, the longnight at length passed, and with the first dawn she arose, shakenand weak, but resolved to act on her terrible resolution before itagain failed her. 

Sir Philip was always an early riser, and she heard his foot on thestairs before seven o'clock. She came out on the staircase, whichmet the flight which he was descending, and tried to speak, but herlips seemed too dry to part. 

"Child! child! you are ill, " said the old gentleman, as he saw herblanched cheek; "you should be in bed this chilly morning. Go backto your chamber. "

"No, no, sir, I cannot. Pray, your Honour, come here, I havesomething to say;" and she drew him to the open door of his justice-room, called the gun-room. 

"Bless me, " he muttered, "the wench does not mean that she has gotsmitten with that poor rogue my nephew!"

"Oh! no, no, " said Anne, almost ready for a hysterical laugh, yetletting the old man seat himself, and then dropping on her kneesbefore him, for she could hardly stand, "it is worse than that, sir;I know who it was who did that thing. "

"Well, who?" he said hastily; "why have you kept it back so long andlet an innocent man get into trouble?"

"O Sir Philip! I could not help it. Forgive me;" and with claspedhands, she brought out the words, "It was your son, Mr. Archfield;"and then she almost collapsed again. 

"Child! child! you are ill; you do not know what you are saying. Wemust have you to bed again. I will call your uncle. "

"Ah! sir, it is only too true;" but she let him fetch her uncle, whowas sure to be at his devotions in a kind of oratory on the fartherside of the hall. She had not gone to him first, from the olddesire to keep him clear of the knowledge, but she longed for suchsupport as he might give her, or at least to know whether he werevery angry with her. 

The two old men quickly came back together, and Dr. Woodford began, "How now, niece, are you telling us dreams?" but he broke off as hesaw the sad earnest of her face. 

"Sir, it is too true. He charged me to speak out if any one elsewere brought into danger. "

"Come, " said Sir Philip, testily; "don't crouch grovelling on thefloor there. Get up and let us know the meaning of this. Goodheavens! the lad may be here any day. "

Anne had much rather have knelt where she was, but her uncle raisedher, and placed her in a chair, saying, "Try to compose yourself, and tell us what you mean, and why it has been kept back so long. "

"Indeed he did not intend it, " pleaded Anne; "it was almost anaccident--to protect me--Peregrine was--pursuing me. "

"Upon my word, young mistress, " burst out the father, "you seem tohave been setting all the young fellows together by the ears. "

"I doubt if she could help it, " said the Doctor. "She tried to bediscreet, but it was the reason her mother--"

"Well, go on, " interrupted poor Sir Philip, too unhappy to remembermanners or listen to the defence; "what was it? when was it?"

Anne was allowed then to proceed. "It was the morning I went toLondon. I went out to gather some mouse-ear. "

"Mouse-ear! mouse-ear!" growled he. "Some one else's ear. "

"It was for Lady Oglethorpe. "

"It was, " said her uncle, "a specific, it seems, for whooping-cough. I saw the letter, and knew--"

"Umph! let us hear, " said Sir Philip, evidently with the idea of atryst in his mind. "No wonder mischief comes of maidens runningabout at such hours. What next?"

The poor girl struggled on: "I saw Peregrine coming, and hoping hewould not see me, I ran into the keep, meaning to get home by thebattlements out of his sight, but when I looked down he and Mr. Archfield were fighting. I screamed, but I don't think they heardme, and I ran down; but I had fastened all the doors, and I was along time getting out, and by that time Mr. Archfield had draggedhim to the vault and thrown him in. He was like one distracted, andsaid it must be hidden, or it would be the death of his wife and hismother, and what could I do?"

"Is that all the truth?" said Sir Philip sternly. "What broughtthem there--either of them?"

"Mr. Archfield came to bring me a pattern of sarcenet to match forpoor young Madam in London. "

No doubt Sir Philip recollected the petulant anger that this hadbeen forgotten, but he was hardly appeased. "And the other fellow?Why, he was brawling with my nephew Sedley about you the daybefore!"

"I do not think she was to blame there, " said Dr. Woodford. "Theunhappy youth was set against marrying Mistress Browning, and hadtalked wildly to my sister and me about wedding my niece. "

"But why should she run away as if he had the plague, and set thefoolish lads to fight?"

"Sir, I must tell you, " Anne owned, "he had beset me, and talked sodesperately that I was afraid of what he might do in that lonelyplace and at such an hour in the morning. I hoped he had not seenme. "

"Umph!" said Sir Philip, much as if he thought a silly girl'simagination had caused all the mischief. 

"When did he thus speak to you, Anne?" asked her uncle, notunkindly. 

"At the inn at Portsmouth, sir, " said Anne. "He came while you werewith Mr. Stanbury and the rest, and wanted me to marry him and fleeto France, or I know not where, or at any rate marry him secretly soas to save him from poor Mistress Browning. I could not choose butfear and avoid him, but oh! I would have faced him ten times overrather than have brought this on--us all. And now what shall I do?He, Mr. Archfield, when I saw him in France, said as long as no onewas suspected, it would only give more pain to say what I knew, butthat if suspicion fell on any one--" and her voice died away. 

"He could not say otherwise, " returned Sir Philip, with a groan. 

"And now what shall I do? what shall I do?" sighed the poor girl. "I must speak truth. "

"I never bade you perjure yourself, " said Sir Philip sharply, buthiding his face in his hands, and groaning out, "Oh, my son! myson!"

Seeing that his distress so overcame poor Anne that she couldscarcely contain herself, Dr. Woodford thought it best to take herfrom the room, promising to come again to her. She could do nothingbut lie on her bed and weep in a quiet heart-broken way. SirPhilip's anger seemed to fill up the measure, by throwing the guiltback upon her and rousing a bitter sense of injustice, and then shewept again at her cruel selfishness in blaming the broken-heartedold man. 

She could hardly have come down to breakfast, so heavy were herlimbs and so sick and faint did every movement render her, and shefurther bethought herself that the poor old father might not brookthe sight of her under the circumstances. It was a pang to hearlittle Philip prancing about the house, and when he had come to herto say his prayers, she sent him down with a message that she wasnot well enough to come downstairs, and that she wanted nothing, only to be quiet. 

The little fellow was very pitiful, and made her cry again bywanting to know whether she had gout like grandpapa or rheumaticslike grandmamma, and then stroking her face, calling her his dearNana, and telling her of the salad in his garden that his papa wasto eat the very first day he came home. 

By and by Dr. Woodford knocked at her door. He had had a longconversation with poor old Sir Philip, who was calmer now than underthe first blow, and somewhat less inclined to anger with the girl, who might indeed be the cause, but surely the innocent cause, ofall. The Doctor had done his best to show that her going out had noconnection with any of the youths, and he thought Sir Philip wouldbelieve it on quieter reflection. He had remembered too, signs ofself-reproach mixed with his son's grief for his wife, and hisextreme relief at the plan for going abroad, recollecting likewisethat Charles had strongly disliked poor Peregrine, and had muchresented the liking which young Madam had shown for one whoseattentions might have been partly intended to tease the younghusband. 

"Of course, " said Dr. Woodford, "the unhappy deed was no more thanan unfortunate accident, and if all had been known at first, probably it would so have been treated. The concealment was anerror, but it is impossible to blame either of you for it. "

"Oh never mind that, dear uncle! Only tell me! Must he--mustCharles suffer to save that man? You know what he is, real murdererin heart! Oh I know. The right must be done! But it is dreadful!"

"The right must be done and the truth spoken at all costs. No oneknows that better than our good old patron, " said the Doctor; "but, my dear child, you are not called on to denounce this young man asyou seem to imagine, unless there should be no other means of savinghis cousin, or unless you are so questioned that you cannot helpreplying for truth's sake. Knowing nothing of all this, it struckothers besides myself at the inquest that the evidence againstSedley was utterly insufficient for a conviction, and if he shouldbe acquitted, matters will only be as they were before. "

"Then you think I am not bound to speak--The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth, " she murmured in exceeding grief, yet firmly. 

"You certainly may, nay, _must_ keep your former silence till thetrial, at the Lent Assizes. I trust you may not be called on as awitness to the fray with Sedley, but that I may be sufficienttestimony to that. I could testify to nothing else. Remember, ifyou are called, you have only to answer what you are asked, nor isit likely, unless Sedley have any suspicion of the truth, that youwill be asked any question that will implicate Mr. Archfield. Ifso, God give you strength my poor child, to be true to Him. But thepoint of the trial is to prove Sedley guilty or not guilty; and ifthe latter, there is no more to be said. God grant it. "

"But he--Mr. Archfield?"

"His father is already taking measures to send to all the ports tostop him on his way till the trial is over. Thus there will be noactual danger, though it is a sore disappointment, and these wickedattempts of Charnock and Barclay put us in bad odour, so that it maybe less easy to procure a pardon than it once would have been. So, my dear child, I do not think you need be in terror for his life, even if you are obliged to speak out plainly. "

And then the good old man knelt with Anne to pray for pardon, direction, and firmness, and protection for Charles. She made anentreaty after they rose that her uncle would take her away--herpresence must be so painful to their kind hosts. He agreed withher, and made the proposition, but Sir Philip would not hear of it. Perhaps he was afraid of any change bringing suspicion of the facts, and he might have his fears of Anne being questioned into dangerousadmissions, besides which, he hoped to keep his poor old wife inignorance to the last. So Anne was to remain at Fareham, and afterthat one day's seclusion she gathered strength to be with the familyas usual. Poor old Sir Philip treated her with a studied but icycourtesy which cut her to the heart; but Lady Archfield's hopes ofseeing her son were almost worse, together with her regrets at herhusband's dejection at the situation of his nephew and the familydisgrace. As to little Philip, his curious inquiries about CousinSedley being in jail for murdering Penny Grim had to be summarilyhushed by the assurance that such things were not to be spokenabout. But why did Nana cry when he talked of papa's coming home?

All the neighbourhood was invited to the funeral in HavantChurchyard, the burial-place of the Oakshotts. Major Oakshotthimself wrote to Dr. Woodford, as having been one of the kindestfriends of his poor son, adding that he could not ask Sir PhilipArchfield, although he knew him to be no partner in the guilt of hisunhappy nephew, who so fully exemplified that Divine justice may beslow, but is sure. 

Dr. Woodford decided on accepting the invitation, not only forPeregrine's sake, but to see how the land lay. Scarcely anythingremarkable, however, occurred, except that it was painful toperceive the lightness of the coffin. A funeral sermon waspreviously preached by a young Nonconformist minister in his ownchapel, on the text, "Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall hisblood be shed;" and then the burial took place, watched by a hugecrowd of people. But just as the procession was starting from thechapel for the churchyard, over the wall there came a strange pealof wild laughter. 

"Oh, would not the unquiet spirit be at rest till it was avenged?"thought Anne when she was told of it. 

CHAPTER XXIX: THE ASSIZE COURT

"O terror! what hath she perceived? O joy, What doth she look on? whom hath she perceived?"

WORDSWORTH. 

Time wore away, and the Lent Assizes at Winchester had come. SirPhilip had procured the best legal assistance for his nephew, but incriminal cases, though the prisoner was allowed the advice ofcounsel, the onus of defence rested upon himself. To poor Anne'sdismay, a subpoena was sent to her, as well as to her uncle, toattend as a witness at the trial. Sir Philip was too anxious toendure to remain at a distance from Winchester, and they travelledin his coach, Sir Edmund Nutley escorting them on horseback, whileLucy was left with her mother, both still in blissful ignorance. They took rooms at the George Inn. That night was a strange andgrievous one to Anne, trying hard to sleep so as to be physicallycapable of composure and presence of mind, yet continually wakenedby ghastly dreams, and then recollecting that the sense of somethingterrible was by no means all a dream. 

Very white, very silent, but very composed, she came to the sitting-room, and was constrained by her uncle and Sir Philip to eat, muchas it went against her. On this morning Sir Philip had dropped hissternness towards her, and finding a moment when his son-in-law wasabsent, he said, "Child, I know that this is wellnigh, nay, quite ashard for you as for me. I can only say, Let no earthly regards holdyou back from whatever is your duty to God and man. Speak the truthwhatever betide, and leave the rest to the God of truth. God blessyou, however it may be;" and he kissed her brow. 

The intelligence that the trial was coming on was brought bySedley's counsel, Mr. Simon Harcourt. They set forth for the CountyHall up the sharply-rising street, thronged with people, who growledand murmured at the murderer savagely, Sir Philip, under the care ofhis son-in-law, and Anne with her uncle. Mr. Harcourt was veryhopeful; he said the case for the prosecution had not a leg to standon, and that the prisoner himself was so intelligent, and had soreadily understood the line of defence to take, that he ought tohave been a lawyer. There would be no fear except that it might bemade a party case, and no stone was likely to be left unturnedagainst a gentleman of good loyal family. Moreover Mr. WilliamCowper, whom Robert Oakshott, or rather his wife, had engaged atgreat expense for the prosecution, was one of the most rising ofbarristers, noted for his persuasive eloquence, and unfortunatelyMr. Harcourt had not the right of reply. 

The melancholy party were conducted into court, Sir Philip and SirEdmund to the seats disposed of by the sheriff, beside the judge, strangely enough only divided by him from Major Oakshott. The judgewas Mr. Baron Hatsel, a somewhat weak-looking man, in spite of hisred robes and flowing wig, as he sat under his canopy beneath KingArthur's Round Table. Sedley, perhaps a little thinner since hisimprisonment, but with the purple red on his face, and his prominenteyes so hard and bold that it was galling to know that this wasreally the confidence of innocence. 

Mr. Cowper was with great ability putting the case. Here were twofamilies in immediate neighbourhood, divided from the first bypolitical opinions of the strongest complexion; and he put theOakshott views upon liberty, civil and religious, in the mostpopular light. The unfortunate deceased he described as having beena highly promising member of the suite of the distinguished Envoy, Sir Peregrine Oakshott, whose name he bore. On the death of theeldest brother he had been recalled, and his accomplishments andforeign air had, it appeared, excited the spleen of the younggentlemen of the county belonging to the Tory party, then in theascendant, above all of the prisoner. There was then little or noetiquette as to irrelevant matter, so that Mr. Cowper could dwell atlength on Sedley's antecedents, as abusing the bounty of his uncle, a known bully expelled for misconduct from Winchester College, thenacting as a suitable instrument in those violences in Scotland whichhad driven the nation finally to extremity, noted for hisdebaucheries when in garrison, and finally broken forinsubordination in Ireland. 

After this unflattering portrait, which Sedley's looks certainly didnot belie, the counsel went back to 1688, proceeded to mentionseveral disputes which had taken place when Peregrine had metLieutenant Archfield at Portsmouth; but, he added with a smile, thatno dart of malice was ever thoroughly winged till Cupid had addedhis feather; and he went on to describe in strong colours the insultto a young gentlewoman, and the interference of the other young manin her behalf, so that swords were drawn before the appearance ofthe reverend gentleman her uncle. Still, he said, there was furthervenom to be added to the bolt, and he showed that the two had partedafter the rejoicings on Portsdown Hill with a challenge all bututtered between them, the Whig upholding religious liberty, the Toryhotly defending such honour as the King possessed, and both partingin anger. 

Young Mr. Oakshott was never again seen alive, though his familylong hoped against hope. There was no need to dwell on the strangeappearances that had incited them to the search. Certain it was, that after seven years' silence, the grave had yielded up itssecrets. Then came the description of the discovery of the bones, and of the garments and sword, followed by the mention of theevidence as to the blood on the grass, and the prisoner having beenseen in the neighbourhood of the castle at that strange hour. Hewas observed to have an amount of money unusual with him soon after, and, what was still more suspicious, after having gambled this away, he had sold to a goldsmith at Southampton a ruby ring, which bothMr. And Mrs. Oakshott could swear to have belonged to the deceased. In fact, when Mr. Cowper marshalled the facts, and even describedthe passionate encounter taking place hastily and without witnesses, and the subsequent concealment of guilt in the vault, the pursetaken, and whatever could again be identified hidden, whileprovidentially the blocking up of the vault preserved the evidenceof the crime so long undetected and unavenged, it was hardlypossible to believe the prisoner innocent. 

When the examination of the witnesses began, however, Sedley showedhimself equal to his own defence. He made no sign when RobertOakshott identified the clothes, sword, and other things, and theircondition was described; but he demanded of him sharply how he knewthe human remains to be those of his brother. 

"Of course they were, " said Robert. 

"Were there any remains of clothes with them?"

"No. "

"Can you swear to them? Did you ever before see your brother'sbones?"

At which, and at the witness's hesitating, "No, but--" the courtbegan to laugh. 

"What was the height of the deceased?"

"He reached about up to my ear, " said the witness with somehesitation. 

"What was the length of the skeleton?"

"Quite small. It looked like a child's. "

"My lord, " said Sedley, "I have a witness here, a surgeon, whom Irequest may be called to certify the proportion of a skeleton to thesize of a living man. "

Though this was done, the whole matter of size was so vague thatthere was nothing proved, either as to the inches of Peregrine orthose of the skeleton, but still Sedley made his point that theidentity of the body was unproved at least in some minds. Still, there remained the other articles, about which there was no doubt. 

Mr. Cowper proceeded with his examination as to the disputes atPortsmouth, but again the prisoner scored a point by proving thatPeregrine had staked the ring against him at a cock-fight atSouthampton, and had lost it. 

Dr. Woodford was called, and his evidence could not choose but to bemost damaging as to the conflict on the road at Portsmouth; but ashe had not seen the beginning, 'Mistress Anne Jacobina Woodford' wascalled for. 

There she stood, tall and stately, almost majestic in the stiffnessof intense self-restraint, in her simple gray dress, her black silkhood somewhat back, her brown curls round her face, a red spot ineach cheek, her earnest brown eyes fixed on the clerk as he gabbledout the words so awful to her, "The truth, the whole truth, andnothing but the truth;" and her soul re-echoed the words, "So helpyou God. "

Mr. Cowper was courteous; he was a gentleman, and he saw she was nolight-minded girl. He asked her the few questions needful as to theattack made on her, and the defence; but something moved him to goon and ask whether she had been on Portsdown Hill, and to obtainfrom her the account of the high words between the young men. Sheanswered each question in a clear low voice, which still was audibleto all. Was it over, or would Sedley begin to torture her, when somuch was in his favour? No! Mr. Cowper--oh! why would he? wasasking in an affirmative tone, as if to clench the former evidence, "And did you ever see the deceased again?"

"Yes. " The answer was at first almost choked, then cleared intosharpness, and every eye turned in surprise on the face that hadbecome as white as her collar. 

"Indeed! And when?"

"The next morning, " in a voice as if pronouncing her own doom, andwith hands clinging tight to the front of the witness-box as thoughin anguish. 

"Where?" said the counsel, like inexorable fate. 

"I will save the gentlewoman from replying to that question, sir;"and a gentleman with long brown hair, in a rich white and golduniform, rose from among the spectators. "Perhaps I may be allowedto answer for her, when I say that it was at Portchester Castle, atfive in the morning, that she saw Peregrine Oakshott slain by myhand, and thrown into the vault. "

There was a moment of breathless amazement in the court, and thejudge was the first to speak. "Very extraordinary, sir! What isyour name?"

"Charles Archfield, " said the clear resolute voice. 

Then came a general movement and sensation, and Anne, still holdingfast to the support, saw the newcomer start forward with a cry, "Myfather!" and with two or three bounds reach the side of Sir Philip, who had sunk back in his seat for a moment, but recovered himself ashe felt his son's arm round him. 

There was a general buzz, and a cry of order, and in the silencethus produced the judge addressed the witness:--

"Is what this gentleman says the truth?"

And on Anne's reply, "Yes, my Lord, " spoken with the clear ring ofanguish, the judge added--

"Was the prisoner present?"

"No, my Lord; he had nothing to do with it. "

"Then, brother Cowper, do you wish to proceed with the case?"

Mr. Cowper replied in the negative, and the judge then made a briefsumming-up, and the jury, without retiring, returned a verdict of'Not guilty. '

In the meantime Anne had been led like one blinded from the witness-box, and almost dropped into her uncle's arms. "Cheer up, cheer up, my child, " he said. "You have done your part bravely, and after soupright a confession no one can deal hardly with the young man. Godwill surely protect him. "

The acquittal had been followed by a few words from Baron Hatsel, congratulating the late prisoner on his deliverance through thisgentleman's generous confession. Then there was a moment'shesitation, ended by the sheriff asking Charles, who stood up by hisold father, one arm supporting the trembling form, and the otherhand clasped in the two aged ones, "Then, sir, do you surrender totake your trial?"

"Certainly, sir, " said Charles. "I ought to have done so long ago, but in the first shock--"

Mr. Harcourt here cautioned him not to say anything that could beused against him, adding in a low tone, much to Sir Philip's relief, "It may be brought in manslaughter, sir. "

"He should be committed, " another authority said. "Is there aHampshire magistrate here to sign a warrant?"

Of these there were plenty; and as the clerk asked for hisdescription, all eyes turned on the tall and robust form in theprime of manhood, with the noble resolute expression on his finefeatures and steadfast eyes, except when, as he looked at hisfather, they were full of infinite pity. The brown hair hung overthe rich gold-laced white coat, faced with black, and with a broadgold-coloured sash fringed with black over his shoulder, and therewas a look of distinction about him that made his answer onlynatural. "Charles Archfield, of Archfield House, Fareham, Lieutenant-Colonel of his Imperial Majesty's Light Dragoons, Knightof the Holy Roman Empire. Must I give up my sword like a prisonerof war?" he asked, with a smile. 

Sir Philip rose to his feet with an earnest trembling entreaty thatbail might be taken for him, and many voices of gentlemen and men ofsubstance made offers of it. There was a little consultation, andit was ruled that bail might be accepted under the circumstances, and Charles bowed his thanks to the distant and gave his hand to thenearer, while Mr. Eyre of Botley Grange, and Mr. Brocas of RocheCourt, were accepted as sureties. The gentle old face of Mr. Cromwell of Hursley, was raised to poor old Sir Philip's with thewords, spoken with a remnant of the authority of the Protector:"Your son has spoken like a brave man, sir; God bless you, and bringyou well through it. "

Charles was then asked whether he wished for time to collectwitnesses. "No, my lord, " he said. "I thank you heartily, but Ihave no one to call, and the sooner this is over the better forall. "

After a little consultation it was found that the Grand Jury had notbeen dismissed, and could find a true bill against him; and it wasdecided that the trial should take place after the rest of thecriminal cases were disposed of. 

This settled, the sorrowful party with the strangely welcomed sonwere free to return to their quarters at the George. Mr. Cromwellpressed forward to beg that they would make use of his coach. Itwas a kind thought, for Sir Philip hung feebly on his son's arm, andto pass through the curious throng would have been distressing. After helping him in, Charles turned and demanded--

"Where is she, the young gentlewoman, Miss Woodford?"

She was just within, her uncle waiting to take her out till thecrowd's attention should be called off. Charles lifted her in, andSir Edmund and Dr. Woodford followed him, for there was plenty ofroom in the capacious vehicle. 

Nobody spoke in the very short interval the four horses took ingetting themselves out of the space in front of the County Hall anddown the hill to the George. Only Charles had leant forward, takenAnne's hand, drawn it to his lips, and then kept fast hold of it. 

They were all in the room at the inn at last, they hardly knew how;indeed, as Charles was about to shut the door there was a smack onhis back, and there stood Sedley holding out his hand. 

"So, Charley, old fellow, you were the sad dog after all. You gotme out of it, and I owe you my thanks, but you need not have putyour neck into the noose. I should have come off with flyingcolours, and made them all make fools of themselves, if you had onlywaited. "

"Do you think I could sit still and see _her_ put to the torture?"said Charles. 

"Torture? You are thinking of your barbarous countries. No fear ofthe boot here, nor even in Scotland nowadays. "

"That's all the torture you understand, " muttered Sir Edmund Nutley. 

"Not but what I am much beholden to you all the same, " went onSedley. "And look here, sir, " turning to his uncle, "if you wish toget him let off cheap you had better send up another specialretainer to Harcourt, without loss of time, as he may be off. "

Sir Edmund Nutley concurred in the advice, and they hurried offtogether in search of the family attorney, through whom the greatman had to be approached. 

The four left together could breathe more freely. Indeed Dr. Woodford would have taken his niece away, but that Charles alreadyhad her in his arms in a most fervent embrace, as he said, "Mybrave, my true maid!"

She could not speak, but she lifted up her eyes, with infiniterelief in all her sorrow, as for a moment she rested against him;but they had to move apart, for a servant came up with some wine, and Charles, putting her into a chair, began to wait on her and onhis father. 

"I have not quite forgotten my manners, " he said lightly, as if torelieve the tension of feeling, "though in Germany the ladies servethe gentlemen. "

It was very hard not to burst into tears at these words, but Anneknew that would be the way to distress her companions and to have toleave the room and lose these precious moments. Sir Philip, afterswallowing the wine, succeeded in saying, "Have you been at home?"

Charles explained that he had landed at Gravesend, and had riddenthence, sleeping at Basingstoke, and taking the road throughWinchester in case his parents should be wintering there, and onarriving a couple of hours previously and inquiring for them, he hadheard the tidings that Sir Philip Archfield was indeed there, forhis nephew was being tried for his life for the wilful murder ofMajor Oakshott's son seven years ago. 

"And you had none of my warnings? I wrote to all the ports, " saidhis father, "to warn you to wait till all this was over. "

No; he had crossed from Sluys, and had met no letter. "I suppose, "he said, "that I must not ride home to-morrow. It might make mysureties uneasy; but I would fain see them all. "

"It would kill your mother to be here, " said Sir Philip. "She knowsnothing of what Anne told me on Sedley's arrest. She is grown veryfeeble;" and he groaned. "But we might send for your sister, if shecan leave her, and the boy. "

"I should like my boy to be fetched, " said Charles. "I should wishhim to remember his father--not as a felon convicted!" Then puttinga knee to the ground before Sir Philip, he said, "Sir, I ask yourblessing and forgiveness. I never before thoroughly understood myerrors towards you, especially in hiding this miserable matter, andleaving all this to come on you, while my poor Anne there was leftto bear all the load. It was a cowardly and selfish act, and I askyour pardon. "

The old man sobbed with his hand on his son's head. "My dear boy!my poor boy! you were distraught. "

"I was then. I did it, as I thought, for my poor Alice's sake atfirst, and as it proved, it was all in vain; but at the year's end, when I was older, it was folly and wrong. I ought to have laid allbefore you, and allowed you to judge, and I sincerely repent the nothaving so done. And Anne, my sweetest Anne, has borne the burthenall this time, " he added, going back to her. "Let no one say awoman cannot keep secrets, though I ought never to have laid this onher. "

"Ah! it might have gone better for you then, " sighed Sir Philip. "No one would have visited a young lad's mischance hardly on a loyalhouse in those days. What is to be done, my son?"

"That we will discuss when the lawyer fellow comes. Is it old Lee?Meantime let us enjoy our meeting. So that is Lucy's husband. Sober and staid, eh? And my mother is feeble, you say. Has shebeen ill?"

Charles was comporting himself with the cheerfulness that had becomehabitual to him as a soldier, always in possible danger, but it wasvery hard to the others to chime in with his tone, and when amessage was brought to ask whether his Honour would be served inprivate, the cheery greeting and shake of the hand broke down thecomposure of the old servant who brought it, and he cried, "Oh, sir, to see you thus, and such a fine young gentleman!"

Charles, the only person who could speak, gave the orders, but theydid not eat alone, for Sir Edmund Nutley and Sedley arrived with thelegal advisers, and it was needful, perhaps even better, to havetheir company. The chief of the conversation was upon Hungarian andTransylvanian politics and the Turkish war. Mr. Harcourt seeminggreatly to appreciate the information that Colonel Archfield wasable to give him, and the anecdotes of the war, and descriptions ofscenes therein actually brightened Sir Philip into interest, andinto forgetting for a moment his son's situation in pride in hisconduct, and at the distinction he had gained. "We must save him, "said Mr. Harcourt to Sir Edmund. "He is far too fine a fellow to belost for a youthful mischance. "

The meal was a short one, and a consultation was to follow, whileSedley departed. Anne was about to withdraw, when Mr. Lee theattorney said, "We shall need Mistress Woodford's evidence, sir, forthe defence. "

"I do not see what defence there can be, " returned Charles. "I canonly plead guilty, and throw myself on the King's mercy, if hechooses to extend it to one of a Tory family. "

"Not so fast, sir, " said Mr. Harcourt; "as far as I have gatheredthe facts, there is every reason to hope you may obtain a verdict ofmanslaughter, and a nominal penalty, although that rests with thejudge. "

On this the discussion began in earnest. Charles, who had neverheard the circumstances which led to the trial, was greatlyastonished to hear what remains had been discovered. He said thathe could only declare himself to have thrown in the body, fulldressed, just as it was, and how it could have been stripped andburied he could not imagine. "What made folks think of looking intothe vault?" he asked. 

"It was Mrs. Oakshott, " said Lee, "the young man's wife, she who wasto have married the deceased. She took up some strange notion aboutstories of phantoms current among the vulgar, and insisted on havingthe vault searched, though it had been walled up for many yearspast. "

Charles and Anne looked at each other, and the former said, "Again?"

"Oh yes!" said Anne; "indeed there have been enough to make meremember what you bade me do, in case they recurred, only it wasimpossible. "

"Phantoms!" said Mr. Harcourt; "what does this mean?"

"Mere vulgar superstitions, sir, " said the attorney. 

"But very visible, " said Charles; "I have seen one myself, of whichI am quite sure, besides many that may be laid to the account of thefever of my wound. "

"I must beg to hear, " said the barrister. "Do I understand thatthese were apparitions of the deceased?"

"Yes, " said Charles. "Miss Woodford saw the first, I think. "

"May I beg you to describe it?" said Mr. Harcourt, taking a freshpiece of paper to make notes on. 

Anne narrated the two appearances in London, and Charles added thestory of the figure seen in the street at Douai, seen by bothtogether, asking what more she knew of. 

"Once at night last summer, at the very anniversary, I saw his facein the trees in the garden, " said Anne; "it was gone in a moment. That has been all I have seen; but little Philip came to me full ofstories of people having seen Penny Grim, as he calls it, and verystrangely, once it rose before him at the great pond, and his frightsaved him from sliding to the dangerous part. What led Mrs. Oakshott to the examination was that it was seen once on the beach, once by the sentry at the vault itself, once by the sexton at HavantChurchyard, and once by my mother's grave. "

"Seven?" said the counsel, reviewing the notes he jotted down. "Colonel Archfield, I should recommend you pleading not guilty, andbasing your defence, like your cousin, on the strong probabilitythat this same youth is a living man. "

"Indeed!" said Charles, starting, "I could have hoped it from theserecent apparitions, but what I myself saw forbids the idea. If anysight were ever that of a spirit, it was what we saw at Douai;besides, how should he come thither, a born and bred Whig andPuritan?"

"There is no need to mention that; you can call witnesses to hishaving been seen within these few months. It would rest with theprosecution to disprove his existence in the body, especially as thebones in the vault cannot be identified. "

"Sir, " said Charles, "the defence that would have served my innocentcousin cannot serve me, who know what I did to Oakshott. I am _now_aware that it is quite possible that the sword might not have killedhim, but when I threw him into that vault I sealed his fate. "

"How deep is the vault?"

Mr. Lee and Dr. Woodford both averred that it was not above twentyor twenty-four feet deep, greatly to Charles's surprise, for as alad he had thought it almost unfathomable; but then he owned hisideas of Winchester High Street had been likewise far moremagnificent than he found it. The fall need not necessarily havebeen fatal, especially to one insensible and opposing no resistance, but even supposing that death had not resulted, in those Draconiandays, the intent to murder was equally subject with its fullaccomplishment to capital punishment. Still, as Colonel Archfieldcould plead with all his heart that he had left home with no evilintentions towards young Oakshott, the lawyers agreed that to provethat the death of the victim was uncertain would reduce the matterto a mere youthful brawl, which could not be heavily visited. Mr. Harcourt further asked whether it were possible to prove that theprisoner had been otherwise employed than in meddling with the body;but unfortunately it had been six hours before he came home. 

"I was distracted, " said Charles; "I rode I knew not whither, till Icame to my senses on finding that my horse was ready to drop, when Iled him into a shed at a wayside public-house, bade them feed him, took a drink, then I wandered out into the copse near, and lay onthe ground there till I thought him rested, for how long I know not. I think it must have been near Bishops Waltham, but I cannotrecollect. "

Mr. Lee decided on setting forth at peep of dawn the next morning toendeavour to collect witnesses of Peregrine's appearances. SirEdmund Nutley intended to accompany him as far as Fareham to fetchlittle Philip and Lady Nutley, if the latter could leave her motherafter the tidings had been broken to them, and also to try to tracewhether Charles's arrival at any public-house were remembered. 

To her dismay, Anne received another summons from the other party toact as witness. 

"I hoped to have spared you this, my sweet, " said Charles, "butnever mind; you cannot say anything worse of me than I shall own ofmyself. "

The two were left to each other for a little while in the baywindow. "Oh, sir! can you endure me thus after all?" murmured Anne, as she felt his arm round her. 

"Can you endure me after all I left you to bear?" he returned. 

"It was not like what I brought on you, " she said. 

But they could not talk much of the future; and Charles told how hehad rested through all his campaigns in the knowledge that his Annewas watching and praying for him, and how his long illness hadbrought before him deeper thoughts than he had ever had before, andmade him especially dwell on the wrong done to his parents by hislong absence, and the lightness with which he had treated homeduties and responsibilities, till he had resolved that if his lifewere then spared, he would neglect them no longer. 

"And now, " he said, and paused, "all I shall have done is to breaktheir hearts. What is that saying, 'Be sure your sin will find youout. '"

"Oh, sir! they are sure not to deal hardly with you. "

"Perhaps the Emperor's Ambassador may claim me. If so, would you gointo banishment with the felon, Anne, love? It would not be quiteso mad as when I asked you before. "

"I would go to the ends of the world with you; and we would takelittle Phil. Do you know, he is growing a salad, and learningLatin, all for papa?"

And so she told him of little Phil till his father was seen lookingwistfully at him. 

With Sir Philip, Charles was all cheerfulness and hope, taking suchinterest in all there was to hear about the family, estate, andneighbourhood that the old gentleman was beguiled into feeling as ifthere were only a short ceremony to be gone through before he hadhis son at home, saving him ease and trouble. 

But after Sir Philip had been persuaded to retire, worn out with theday's agitations, and Anne likewise had gone to her chamber to weepand pray, Charles made his arrangements with Mr. Lee for the futurefor all connected with him in case of the worst; and after thelawyer's departure poured out his heart to Dr. Woodford in deepcontrition, as he said he had longed to do when lying in expectationof death at the Iron Gates. "However it may end, " he said, "and Iexpect, as I deserve, the utmost, I am thankful for thisopportunity, though unhappily it gives more pain to those about methan if I had died out there. Tell them, when they need comfort, how much better it is for me. "

"My dear boy, I cannot believe you will have to suffer. "

"There is much against me, sir. My foolish flight, the state ofparties, and the recent conspiracy, which has made loyal familiessuspected and odious. I saw something of that as I came down. Thecrowd fancied my uniform French, and hooted and hissed me. Unluckily I have no other clothes to wear. Nor can I from my heartutterly disclaim all malice or ill will when I remember the thrillof pleasure in driving my sword home. I have had to put an end to aJanissary or two more than once in the way of duty, but their blackeyes never haunted me like those parti-coloured ones. Still Itrust, as you tell me I may, that God forgives me, for our BlessedLord's sake; but I should like, if I could, to take the HolySacrament with my love while I am still thus far a free man. I havenot done so since the Easter before these troubles. "

"You shall, my dear boy, you shall. "

There were churches at which the custom freshly begun at theRestoration was not dropped. The next was St. Matthias's Day, andAnne and her uncle had already purposed to go to the quiet littlechurch of St. Lawrence, at no great distance, in the very earlymorning. They were joined on their way down the stair into thecourtyard of the inn by a gentleman in a slouched hat and large darkcloak, who drew Anne's arm within his own. 

Truly there was peace on that morning, and strength to the brave manbeyond the physical courage that had often before made him bright inthe face of danger, and Anne, though weeping, had a sense of respiteand repose, if not of hope. 

Late in the afternoon, little Philip was lifted down from ridingbefore old Ralph into the arms of the splendid officer, whoseappearance transcended all his visions. He fumbled in his smallpocket, and held out a handful of something green and limp. 

"Here's my salad, papa. I brought it all the way for you to eat. "

And Colonel Archfield ate every scrap of it for supper, though itwas much fitter for a rabbit, and all the evening he held on hisknee the tired child, and responded to his prattle about Nana anddogs and rabbits; nay, ministered to his delight and admiration ofthe sheriff's coach, javelin men, and even the judge, with a strangemixture of wonder, delight, and with melancholy only in eyes andundertones. 

CHAPTER XXX: SENTENCE

"I have hope to live, and am prepared to die. "

Measure for Measure. 

Ralph was bidden to be ready to take his young master home early thenext morning. At eight o'clock the boy, who had slept with hisfather, came down the stair, clinging to his father's hand, and MissWoodford coming closely with him. 

"Yes, " said Charles, as he held the little fair fellow in his arms, ere seating him on the horse, "he knows all, Ralph. He knows thathis father did an evil thing, and that what we do in our youth findsus out later, and must be paid for. He has promised me to be acomfort to the old people, and to look on this lady as a mother. Nay, no more, Ralph; 'tis not good-bye to any of you yet. There, Phil, don't lug my head off, nor catch my hair in your buttons. Give my dutiful love to your grandmamma and to Aunt Nutley, and be agood boy to them. "

"And when I come to see you again I'll bring another salad, " quothPhilip, as he rode out of the court; and his father, by way ofexcusing a contortion of features, smoothed the entangled lock ofhair, and muttered something about, "This comes of not wearing aperiwig. " Then he said--

"And to think that I have wasted the company of such a boy as that, all his life except for this mere glimpse!"

"Oh! you will come back to him, " was all that could be said. 

For it was time for Charles Archfield to surrender himself to takehis trial. 

He had been instructed over and over again as to the line of hisdefence, and cautioned against candour for himself and delicacytowards others, till he had more than once to declare that he had nointention of throwing his life away; but the lawyers agreed inheartily deploring the rules that thus deprived the accused of theassistance of an advocate in examining witnesses and defendinghimself. All depended, as they knew and told Sir Edmund Nutley, onthe judge and jury. Now Mr. Baron Hatsel had shown himself a well-meaning but weak and vacillating judge, whose summing up was aptrather to confuse than to elucidate the evidence; and as to thejury, Mr. Lee scanned their stolid countenances somewhat ruefullywhen they were marshalled before the prisoner, to be challenged ifdesirable. A few words passed, into which the judge inquired. 

"I am reminded, my Lord, " said Colonel Archfield, bowing, "that Ionce incurred Mr. Holt's displeasure as a mischievous boy bythrowing a stone which injured one of his poultry; but I cannotbelieve such a trifle would bias an honest man in a question of lifeand death. "

Nevertheless the judge put aside Mr. Holt. 

"I like his spirit, " whispered Mr. Harcourt. 

"But, " returned Lee, "I doubt if he has done himself any good withthose fellows by calling it a trifle to kill an old hen. I shouldlike him to have challenged two or three more moody old Whiggishrascals; but he has been too long away from home to know how theland lies. "

"Too generous and high-spirited for this work, " sighed Sir Edmund, who sat with them. 

The indictment was read, the first count being "That of maliceaforethought, by the temptation of the Devil, Charles Archfield didwilfully kill and slay Peregrine Oakshott, " etc. The secondindictment was that "By misadventure he had killed and slain thesaid Peregrine Oakshott. " To the first he pleaded 'Not guilty;' tothe second 'Guilty. '

Tall, well-made, manly, and soldierly he stood, with a quiet setface, while Mr. Cowper proceeded to open the prosecution, with acertain compliment to the prisoner and regret at having to push thecase against one who had so generously come forward on behalf of akinsman; but he must unwillingly state the circumstances that madeit doubtful, nay, more than doubtful, whether the prisoner's plea ofmere misadventure could stand. The dislike to the unfortunatedeceased existing among the young Tory country gentlemen of thecounty was, he should prove, intensified in the prisoner on accountof not inexcusable jealousies, as well as of the youthful squabbleswhich sometimes lead to fatal results. On the evening of the 30thof June 1688 there had been angry words between the prisoner and thedeceased on Portsdown Hill, respecting the prisoner's late lady. Atfour or five o'clock on the ensuing morning, the 1st of July, theone fell by the sword of the other in the then unfrequented court ofPortchester Castle. It was alleged that the stroke was fatal onlythrough the violence of youthful impetuosity; but was it consistentwith that supposition that the young gentleman's time wasunaccounted for afterwards, and that the body should have beendisposed of in a manner that clearly proved the assistance of anaccomplice, and with so much skill that no suspicion had arisen forseven years and a half, whilst the actual slayer was serving, nothis own country, but a foreign prince, and had only returned at amost suspicious crisis?

The counsel then proceeded to construct a plausible theory. Hereminded the jury that at that very time, the summer of 1688, messages and invitations were being despatched to his presentGracious Majesty to redress the wrongs of the Protestant Church, andprotect the liberties of the English people. The father of thedeceased was a member of a family of the country party, his uncle adistinguished diplomatist, to whose suite he had belonged. What wasmore obvious than that he should be employed in the correspondence, and that his movements should be dogged by parties connected withthe Stewart family? Already there was too much experience of howfar even the most estimable and conscientious might be blinded bythe sentiment that they dignified by the title of loyalty. Thedeceased had already been engaged in a struggle with one of theArchfield family, who had been acquitted of his actual slaughter;but considering the strangeness of the hour at which the two cousinswere avowedly at or near Portchester, the condition of the clothes, stripped of papers, but not of valuables, and the connection of theprincipal witness with the pretended Prince of Wales, he could nothelp thinking that though personal animosity might have added anedge to the weapon, yet that there were deeper reasons, to promptthe assault and the concealment, than had yet been brought to light. 

"He will make nothing of that, " whispered Mr. Lee. "Poor MasterPeregrine was no more a Whig than old Sir Philip there. "

"'Twill prejudice the jury, " whispered back Mr. Harcourt, "anddiscredit the lady's testimony. "

Mr. Cowper concluded by observing that half truths had come to lightin the former trial, but whole truths would give a different aspectto the affair, and show the unfortunate deceased to have givenoffence, not only as a man of gallantry, but as a patriot, and tohave fallen a victim to the younger bravoes of the so-called Toryparty. To his (the counsel's) mind, it was plain that the prisoner, who had hoped that his crime was undiscovered and forgotten, hadreturned to take his share in the rising against Government sohappily frustrated. He was certain that the traitor Charnock hadbeen received at his father's house, and that Mr. Sedley Archfieldhad used seditious language on several occasions, so that the causeof the prisoner's return at this juncture was manifest, and only tothe working of Providence could it be ascribed that the evidence ofthe aggravated murder should have at that very period been broughtto light. 

There was an evident sensation, and glances were cast at theupright, military figure, standing like a sentinel, as if theaudience expected him to murder them all. 

As before, the examination began with Robert Oakshott'sidentification of the clothes and sword, but Mr. Cowper avoided thesubject of the skeleton, and went on to inquire about the terms onwhich the two young men had lived. 

"Well, " said Robert, "they quarrelled, but in a neighbourly sort ofway. "

"What do you call a neighbourly way?"

"My poor brother used to be baited for being so queer. But then wewere as bad to him as the rest, " said Robert candidly. 

"That is, when you were boys?"

"Yes. "

"And after his return from his travels?"

"It was the same then. He was too fine a gentleman for any one'staste. "

"You speak generally. Was there any especial animosity?"

"My brother bought a horse that Archfield was after. "

"Was there any dispute over it?"

"Not that I know of. "

"Can you give an instance of displeasure manifested by the prisonerat the deceased?"

"I have seen him look black when my brother held a gate open for hiswife. "

"Then there were gallant attentions towards Mrs. Archfield?"

Charles's face flushed, and he made a step forward, but Robertgruffly answered: "No more than civility; but he had gotFrenchified manners, and liked to tease Archfield. "

"Did they ever come to high words before you?"

"No. They knew better. "

"Thank you, Mr. Oakshott, " said the prisoner, as it was intimatedthat Mr. Cowper had finished. "You bear witness that only the mostinnocent civility ever passed between your brother and my poor youngwife?"

"Certainly, " responded Robert. 

"Nothing that could cause serious resentment, if it excited passingannoyance. "

"Nothing. "

"What were your brother's political opinions?"

"Well"--with some slow consideration--"he admired the Queen as was, and could not abide the Prince of Orange. My father was always _athim_ for it. "

"Would you think him likely to be an emissary to Holland?"

"No one less likely. "

But Mr. Cowper started up. "Sir, I believe you are the youngerbrother?"

"Yes. "

"How old were you at the time?"

"Nigh upon nineteen. "

"Oh!" as if that accounted for his ignorance. 

The prisoner continued, and asked whether search was made when thedeceased was missed. 

"Hardly any. "

"Why not?"

"He was never content at home, and we believed he had gone to myuncle in Muscovy. "

"What led you to examine the vault?"

"My wife was disquieted by stories of my brother's ghost beingseen. "

"Did you ever see this ghost?"

"No, never. "

That was all that was made of Robert Oakshott, and then again cameAnne Woodford's turn, and Mr. Cowper was more satirical and lessconsiderate than the day before. Still it was a less dreadfulordeal than previously, though she had to tell the worst, for sheknew her ground better, and then there was throughout wonderfulsupport in Charles's eyes, which told her, whenever she glancedtowards him, that she was doing right and as he wished. As she hadnot heard the speech for the prosecution it was a shock, afteridentifying herself a niece to a 'non-swearing' clergyman, to beasked about the night of the bonfire, and to be forced to tell thatMrs. Archfield had insisted on getting out of the carriage andwalking about with Mr. Oakshott. 

"Was the prisoner present?"

"He came up after a time. "

"Did he show any displeasure?"

"He thought it bad for her health. "

"Did any words pass between him and the deceased?"

"Not that I remember. "

"And now, madam, will you be good enough to recur to the followingmorning, and continue the testimony in which you were interruptedthe day before yesterday? What was the hour?"

"The church clock struck five just after. "

"May I ask what took a young gentlewoman out at such an untimelyhour? Did you expect to meet any one?"

"No indeed, sir, " said Anne hotly. "I had been asked to gather someherbs to carry to a friend. "

"Ah! And why at that time in the morning?"

"Because I was to leave home at seven, when the tide served. "

"Where were you going?"

"To London, sir. "

"And for what reason?"

"I had been appointed to be a rocker in the Royal nursery. "

"I see. And your impending departure may explain certain strangecoincidences. May I ask what was this same herb?" in a mockingtone. 

"Mouse-ear, sir, " said Anne, who would fain have called it by someless absurd title, but knew no other. "A specific for the whooping-cough. "

"Oh! Not 'Love in a mist. ' Are your sure?"

"My lord, " here Simon Harcourt ventured, "may I ask, is thisregular?"

The judge intimated that his learned brother had better keep to thepoint, and Mr. Cowper, thus called to order, desired the witness tocontinue, and demanded whether she was interrupted in her quest. 

"I saw Mr. Peregrine Oakshott enter the castle court, and I hurriedinto the tower, hoping he had not seen me. "

"You said before he had protected you. Why did you run from him?"

She had foreseen this, and quietly answered, "He had made me anoffer of marriage which I had refused, and I did not wish to meethim. "

"Did you see any one else?"

"Not till I had reached the door opening on the battlements. Then Iheard a clash, and saw Mr. Archfield and Mr. Oakshott fighting. "

"Mr. Archfield! The prisoner? Did he come to gather mouse-eartoo?"

"No. His wife had sent him over with a pattern of sarcenet for meto match in London. "

"Early rising and prompt obedience. " And there ensued the inquiriesthat brought out the history of what she had seen of the encounter, of the throwing the body into the vault, full dressed, and of herpromise of silence and its reason. Mr. Cowper did not molest herfurther except to make her say that she had been five months at theCourt, and had accompanied the late Queen to France. 

Then came the power of cross-examination on the part of theprisoner. He made no attempt to modify what had been said before, but asked in a gentle apologetic voice: "Was that the last time youever saw, or thought you saw, Peregrine Oakshott?"

"No. " And here every one in court started and looked curious. 

"When?"

"The 31st of October 1688, in the evening. "

"Where?"

"Looking from the window in the palace at Whitehall, I saw him, orhis likeness, walking along in the light of the lantern over thegreat door. "

The appearance at Lambeth was then described, and that in the gardenat Archfield House. This strange cross-examination was soon over, for Charles could not endure to subject her to the ordeal, while sheequally longed to be able to say something that might not damagehim, and dreaded every word she spoke. Moreover, Mr. Cowper lookedexceedingly contemptuous, and made the mention of Whitehall andLambeth a handle for impressing on the jury that the witness hadbeen deep in the counsels of the late royal family, and that she wasescorted from St. Germain by the prisoner just before he entered onforeign service. 

One of the servants at Fareham was called upon to testify to thehour of his young master's return on the fatal day. It was longpast dinner-time, he said. It must have been about three o'clock. 

Charles put in an inquiry as to the condition of his horse. "Hardridden, sir, as I never knew your Honour bring home Black Bess insuch a pickle before. "

After a couple of young men had been called who could speak to someoutbreaks of dislike to poor Peregrine, in which all had shared, thecase for the prosecution was completed. Cowper, in a speech thatwould be irregular now, but was permissible then, pointed out thatthe jealousy, dislike, and Jacobite proclivities of the Archfieldfamily had been fully made out, that the coincidence of visits tothe castle at that untimely hour had been insufficiently explained, that the condition of the remains in the vault was quiteinconsistent with the evidence of the witness, Mistress Woodford, unless there were persons waiting below unknown to her, and that theprisoner had been absent from Fareham from four or five o'clock inthe morning till nearly three in the afternoon. As to the strangestory she had further told, he (Mr. Cowper) was neithersuperstitious nor philosophic, but the jury would decide whetherconscience and the sense of an awful secret were not sufficient toconjure up such phantoms, if they were not indeed spiritual, occurring as they did in the very places and at the very times whenthe spirit of the unhappy young man, thus summarily dismissed fromthe world, his corpse left in an unblessed den, would be most likelyto reappear, haunting those who felt themselves to be mostaccountable for his lamentable and untimely end. 

The words evidently told, and it was at a disadvantage that theprisoner rose to speak in his own defence and to call his witnesses. 

"My lord, " he said, "and gentlemen of the jury, let me first saythat I am deeply grieved and hurt that the name of my poor youngwife has been brought into this matter. In justice to her who isgone, I must begin by saying that though she was flattered andgratified by the polite manners that I was too clownish and awkwardto emulate, and though I may have sometimes manifested ill-humour, yet I never for a moment took serious offence nor felt bound todefend her honour or my own. If I showed displeasure it was becauseshe was fatiguing herself against warning. I can say with perfecttruth, that when I left home on that unhappy morning, I bore noserious ill-will to any living creature. I had no politicalpurpose, and never dreamt of taking the life of any one. I was aheedless youth of nineteen. I shall be able to prove the commissionof my wife's on which this learned gentleman has thought fit to casta doubt. For the rest, Mistress Anne Woodford was my sister'sfriend and playfellow from early childhood. When I entered thecastle court I saw her hurrying into the keep, pursued by Oakshott, whom I knew her to dread and dislike. I naturally stepped between. Angry words passed. He challenged my right to interfere, and in apassion drew upon me. Though I was the taller and stronger, I knewhim to be proud of his skill in fencing, and perhaps I may thereforehave pressed him the harder, and the dislike I acknowledge made medrive home my sword. But I was free from all murderous intention upto that moment. In my inexperience I had no doubt but that he wasdead, and in a terror and confusion which I regret heartily, I threwhim into the vault, and for the sake of my wife and mother boundMiss Woodford to secrecy. I mounted my horse, and scarcely knowingwhat I did, rode till I found it ready to drop. I asked for restfor it in the first wayside public-house I came to. I lay downmeanwhile among some bushes adjoining, and there waited till myhorse could take me home again. I believe it was at the WhiteHorse, near Bishops Waltham, but the place has changed hands sincethat time, so that I can only prove my words, as you have heard, bythe state of my horse when I came home. For the condition of theremains in the vault I cannot account; I never touched the poorfellow after throwing him there. My wife died a few hours after myreturn home, where I remained for a week, nor did I suggest flight, though I gladly availed myself of my father's suggestion of sendingme abroad with a tutor. Let me add, to remove misconception, that Ivisited Paris because my tutor, the Reverend George Fellowes, one ofthe Fellows of Magdalen College expelled by the late King, and nowRector of Portchester, had been asked to provide for Miss Woodford'sreturn to her home, and he is here to testify that I never had anyconcern with politics. I did indeed accompany him to St. Germain, but merely to find the young gentlewoman, and in the absence of thelate King and Queen, nor did I hold intercourse with any otherperson connected with their Court. After escorting her to Ostend, Iwent to Hungary to serve in the army of our ally, the Emperor, against the Turks, the enemies of all Christians. After a severewound, I have come home, knowing nothing of conspiracies, and I wastaken by surprise on arriving here at Winchester at finding that mycousin was on his trial for the unfortunate deed into which I wasbetrayed by haste and passion, but entirely without premeditation orintent to do more than to defend the young lady. So that I pleadthat my crime does not amount to murder from malicious intent; andlikewise, that those who charge me with the actual death ofPeregrine Oakshott should prove him to be dead. "

Charles's first witness was Mrs. Lang, his late wife's 'own woman, 'who spared him many questions by garrulously declaring 'what a work'poor little Madam had made about the rose-coloured sarcenet, causingthe pattern to be searched out as soon as she came home from thebonfire, and how she had 'gone on at' her husband till he promisedto give it to Mistress Anne, and how he had been astir at fouro'clock in the morning, and had called to her (Mrs. Lang) to look toher mistress, who might perhaps get some sleep now that she had herwill and hounded him out to go over to Portchester about that silk. 

Nothing was asked of this witness by the prosecution except the timeof Mr. Archfield's return. The question of jealousy was passedover. 

Of the pond apparition nothing was said. Anne had told Charles ofit, but no one could have proved its identity but Sedley, and hisshare in it was too painful to be brought forward. Three otherghost seers were brought forward: Mrs. Fellowes's maid, the sentry, and the sexton; but only the sexton had ever seen Master Perryalive, and he would not swear to more than that it was something inhis likeness; the sentry was already bound to declare it somethingunsubstantial; and the maid was easily persuaded into declaring thatshe did not know what she had seen or whether she had seen anything. 

There only remained Mr. Fellowes to bear witness of his pupil'sentire innocence of political intrigues, together with a voluntarytestimony addressed to the court, that the youth had always appearedto him a well-disposed but hitherto boyish lad, suddenly sobered andrendered thoughtful by a shock that had changed the tenor of hismind. 

Mr. Baron Hatsel summed up in his dreary vacillating way. He toldthe gentlemen of the jury that young men would be young men, especially where pretty wenches were concerned, and that all knewthat there was bitterness where Whig and Tory were living nightogether. Then he went over the evidence, at first in a tonefavourable to the encounter having been almost accidental, and thestroke an act of passion. But he then added, it was strange, and hedid not know what to think of these young sparks and the younggentlewoman all meeting in a lonely place when honest folks wereabed, and the hiding in the vault, and the state of the clothes werestrange matters scarce agreeing with what either prisoner or witnesssaid. It looked only too like part of a plot of which some oneshould make a clean breast. On the other hand, the prisoner was afine young gentleman, an only son, and had been fighting the Turks, though it would have been better to have fought the French among hisown countrymen. He had come ingenuously forward to deliver hiscousin, and a deliberate murderer was not wont to be so generous, though may be he expected to get off easily on this same plea ofmisadventure. If it was misadventure, why did he not try to dosomething for the deceased, or wait to see whether he breathedbefore throwing him into this same pit? though, to be sure, a ladmight be inexperienced. For the rest, as to these same sights ofthe deceased or his likeness, he (the judge) was no believer inghosts, though he would not say there were no such things, and thegentlemen of the jury must decide whether it was more likely thepoor youth was playing pranks in the body, or whether he werehaunting in the spirit those who had most to do with his untimelyend. This was the purport, or rather the no-purport, of the charge. 

The jury were absent for a very short time, and as it leaked outafterwards, their intelligence did not rise above the idea that theyoung gentleman was thick with they Frenchies who wanted to bring inmurder and popery, warming-pans and wooden shoes. He called stoningpoultry a trifle, so of what was he not capable? Of course hespited the poor young chap, and how could the fact be denied whenthe poor ghost had come back to ask for his blood?

So the awful suspense ended with 'Guilty, my Lord. '

"Of murder or manslaughter?"

"Of murder. "

The prisoner stood as no doubt he had faced Turkish batteries. 

The judge asked the customary question whether he had any reason toplead why he should not be condemned to death. 

"No, my lord. I am guilty of shedding Peregrine Oakshott's blood, and though I declare before God and man that I had no such purpose, and it was done in the heat of an undesigned struggle, I hated himenough to render the sentence no unjust one. I trust that God willpardon me, if man does not. "

The gentlemen around drew the poor old father out of the court so asnot to hear the final sentence, and Anne, half stunned, was takenaway by her uncle, and put into the same carriage with him. The oldman held her hands closely and could not speak, but she found voice, "Sir, sir, do not give up hope. God will save him. I know what Ican do. I will go to Princess Anne. She is friendly with the Kingnow. She will bring me to tell him all. "

Hurriedly she spoke, her object, as it seemed to be that of everyone, to keep up such hope and encouragement as to drown the terriblesense of the actual upshot of the trial. The room at the George wasfull in a moment of friends declaring that all would go well in theend, and consulting what to do. Neither Sir Philip nor Dr. Woodfordcould be available, as their refusal to take the oaths to KingWilliam made them marked men. The former could only write to theImperial Ambassador, beseeching him to claim the prisoner as anofficer of the Empire, though it was doubtful whether this would beallowed in the case of an Englishman born. Mr. Fellowes undertookto be the bearer of the letter, and to do his best throughArchbishop Tenison to let the King know the true bearings of thecase. Almost in pity, to spare Anne the misery of helpless waiting, Dr. Woodford consented to let her go under his escort, starting veryearly the next morning, since the King might immediately set off forthe army in Holland, and the space was brief between condemnationand execution. 

Sir Edmund proposed to hurry to Carisbrooke Castle, being happily ongood terms with that fiery personage, Lord Cutts, the governor ofthe Isle of Wight as well as a favoured general of the King, whoseintercession might do more than Princess Anne's. Moreover, amessage came from old Mr. Cromwell, begging to see Sir Edmund. Itwas on behalf of Major Oakshott, who entreated that Sir Philip mightbe assured of his own great regret at the prosecution and theresult, and his entire belief that the provocation came from hisunhappy son. Both he and Richard Cromwell were having a petitionfor pardon drawn up, which Sir Henry Mildmay and almost all theleading gentlemen of Hampshire of both parties were sure to sign, while the sheriff would defer the execution as long as possible. Pardons, especially in cases of duelling, had been marketablearticles in the last reigns, and there could not but be a sigh forsuch conveniences. Sir Philip wanted to go at once to the jail, which was very near the inn, but consented on strong persuasion tolet his son-in-law precede him. 

Anne longed for a few moments to herself, but durst not leave thepoor old man, who sat holding her hand, and at each interval ofsilence saying how this would kill the boy's mother, or somethingequally desponding, so that she had to talk almost at random of thevarious gleams of hope, and even to describe how the little Duke ofGloucester might be told of Philip and sent to the King, who wasknown to be very fond of him. It was a great comfort when Dr. Woodford came and offered to pray with them. 

By and by Sir Edmund returned, having been making arrangements forCharles's comfort. Ordinary prisoners were heaped together andmiserably treated, but money could do something, and by applicationto the High Sheriff, permission had been secured for Charles tooccupy a private room, on a heavy fee to the jailor, and for hisfriends to have access to him, besides other necessaries, purchasedat more than their weight in gold. Sir Edmund brought word thatCharles was in good heart; sent love and duty to his father, whom hewould welcome with all his soul, but that as Miss Woodford was--inher love and bravery--going so soon to London, he prayed that shemight be his first visitor that evening. 

There was little more to do than to cross the street, and Sir Edmundhurried her through the flagged and dirty yard, and the dim, foulhall, filled with fumes of smoke and beer, where melancholy debtorsheld out their hands, idle scapegraces laughed, heavy degraded facesscowled, and evil sounds were heard, up the stairs to a nail-studdeddoor, where Anne shuddered to hear the heavy key turned by thecoarse, rude-looking warder, only withheld from insolence by thepresence of a magistrate. Her escort tarried outside, and she sawCharles, his rush-light candle gleaming on his gold lace as he wrotea letter to the ambassador to be forwarded by his father. 

He sprang up with outstretched arms and an eager smile. "My bravesweetheart! how nobly you have done. Truth and trust. It did myheart good to hear you. "

Her head was on his shoulder. She wanted to speak, but could notwithout loosing the flood of tears. 

"Faith entire, " he went on; "and you are still striving for me. "

"Princess Anne is--" she began, then the choking came. 

"True!" he said. "Come, do not expect the worst. I have not madeup my mind to that! If the ambassador will stir, the King will notbe disobliging, though it will probably not be a free pardon, butHungary for some years to come--and you are coming with me. "

"If you will have one who might be--may have been--your death. Oh, every word I said seemed to me stabbing you;" and the tears wouldcome now. 

"No such thing! They only showed how true my love is to God and me, and made my heart swell with pride to hear her so cheering methrough all. "

His strength seemed to allow her to break down. She had all alonghad to bear up the spirits of Sir Philip and Lady Archfield, andthough she had struggled for composure, the finding that she had inhim a comforter and support set the pent-up tears flowing fast, ashe held her close. 

"Oh, I did not mean to vex you thus!" she said. 

"Vex! no indeed! 'Tis something to be wept for. But cheer up, Annemine. I have often been in far worse plights than this, when I haveridden up in the face of eight big Turkish guns. The balls wentover my head then, by God's good mercy. Why not the same now? Ay!and I was ready to give all I had to any one who would have put apistol to my head and got me out of my misery, jolting along on theway to the Iron Gates. Yet here I am! Maybe the Almighty broughtme back to save poor Sedley, and clear my own conscience, knowingwell that though it does not look so, it is better for me to diethus than the other way. No, no; 'tis ten to one that you and therest of you will get me off. I only meant to show you thatsupposing it fails, I shall only feel it my due, and much better forme than if I had died out there with it unconfessed. I shall try toget them all to feel it so, and, after all, now the whole is out, myheart feels lighter than it has done these seven years. And if Icould only believe that poor fellow alive, I could almost diecontent, though that sounds strange. It will quiet his poorrestless spirit any way. "

"You are too brave. Oh! I hoped to come here to comfort you, and Ihave only made you comfort me. "

"The best way, sweetest. Now, I will seal and address this letter, and you shall take it to Mr. Fellowes to carry to the ambassador. "

This gave Anne a little time to compose herself, and when he hadfinished, he took the candle, and saying, "Look here, " he held it tothe wall, and they read, scratched on the rough bricks, "AliceLisle, 1685. This is thankworthy. "

"Lady Lisle's cell! Oh, this is no good omen!"

"I call it a goodly legacy even to one who cannot claim to sufferwrongfully, " said Charles. "There, they knock--one kiss more--weshall meet again soon. Don't linger in town, but give me all thedays you can. Yes, take her back, Sir Edmund, for she must restbefore her journey. Cheer up, love, and do not lie weeping allnight, but believe that your prayers to God and man must prevail oneway or another. "

CHAPTER XXXI: ELF-LAND

"Three ruffians seized me yestermorn, Alas! a maiden most forlorn;They choked my cries with wicked might, And bound me on a palfrey white. "

S. T. COLERIDGE. 

Yet after the night it was with more hope than despondency, Anne, inthe February morning, mounted en croupe behind Mr. Fellowes'sservant, that being decided on as the quickest mode of travelling. She saw the sunrise behind St. Catherine's Hill, and the gray mistsfilling the valley of the Itchen, and the towers of the Cathedraland College barely peeping beyond them. Would her life rise out ofthe mist?

Through hoar-frosted hedges, deeply crested with white, they rode, emerging by and by on downs, becoming dully green above, as the suntouched them, but white below. Suddenly, in passing a hollow, overhung by two or three yew-trees, they found themselves surroundedby masked horsemen. The servant on her horse was felled, sheherself snatched off and a kerchief covered her face, while she wascrying, "Oh sir, let me go! I am on business of life and death. "

The covering was stuffed into her mouth, and she was borne alongsome little way; then there was a pause, and she freed herselfenough to say, "You shall have everything; only let me go;" and shefelt for the money with which Sir Philip had supplied her, and forthe watch given her by King James. 

"We want you; nothing of yours, " said a voice. "Don't be afraid. No one will hurt you; but we must have you along with us. "

Therewith she was pinioned by two large hands, and a bandage wasmade fast over her eyes, and when she shrieked out, "Mr. Fellowes!Oh! where are you?" she was answered--

"No harm has been done to the parson. He will be free as soon asany one comes by. 'Tis you we want. Now, I give you fair notice, for we don't want to choke you; there's no one to hear a squall. Ifthere were, we should gag you, so you had best be quiet, and youshall suffer no hurt. Now then, by your leave, madam. "

She was lifted on horseback again, and a belt passed round her andthe rider in front of her. Again she strove, in her natural voice, to plead that to stop her would imperil a man's life, and to implorefor release. "We know all that, " she was told. It was not rudelysaid. The voice was not that of a clown; it was a gentleman'spronunciation, and this was in some ways more inexplicable andalarming. The horses were put in rapid motion; she heard thetrampling of many hoofs, and felt that they were on soft turf, andshe knew that for many miles round Winchester it was possible tokeep on the downs so as to avoid any inhabited place. She tried toguess, from the sense of sunshine that came through her bandage, inwhat direction she was being carried, and fancied it must besoutherly. On--on--on--still the turf. It seemed absolutelyendless. Time was not measurable under such circumstances, but shefancied noon must have more than passed, when the voice that hadbefore spoken said, "We halt in a moment, and shift you to anotherhorse, madam; but again I forewarn you that our comrades here haveno ears for you, and that cries and struggles will only make it theworse for you. " Then came the sound as of harder ground and a stop--undertones, gruff and manly, could be heard, the peculiar noise ofhorses' drinking; and her captor came up this time on foot, saying, "Plaguy little to be had in this accursed hole; 'tis but the choicebetween stale beer and milk. Which will you prefer?"

She could not help accepting the milk, and she was taken down todrink it, and a hunch of coarse barley bread was given to her, withit the words, "I would offer you bacon, but it tastes as if Old Nickhad smoked it in his private furnace. "

Such expressions were no proof that gentle blood was lacking, butwhose object could her abduction be--her, a penniless dependent?Could she have been seized by mistake for some heiress? In thatmoment's hope she asked, "Sir, do you know who I am--Anne Woodford, a poor, portionless maid, not--"

"I know perfectly well, madam, " was the reply. "May I trouble youto permit me to mount you again?"

She was again placed behind one of the riders, and again fastened tohim, and off they went, on a rougher horse, on harder ground, and, as she thought, occasionally through brushwood. Again a space, toher illimitable, went by, and then came turf once more, and by andby what seemed to her the sound of the sea. 

Another halt, another lifting down, but at once to be gathered upagain, and then a splashing through water. "Be careful, " said thevoice. A hand, a gentleman's hand, took hers; her feet were onboards--on a boat; she was drawn down to sit on a low thwart. Putting her hand over, she felt the lapping of the water and tastedthat it was salt. 

"Oh, sir, where are you taking me?" she asked, as the boat waspushed off. 

"That you will know in due time, " he answered. 

Some more refreshment was offered her in a decided but notdiscourteous manner, and she partook of it, remembering thatexhaustion might add to her perils. She perceived that afterpushing off from shore sounds of eating and low gruff voices mingledwith the plash of oars. Commands seemed to be given in French, andthere were mutterings of some strange language. Darkness was comingon. What were they doing with her? And did Charles's fate hangupon hers?

Yet in spite of terrors and anxieties, she was so much worn out asto doze long enough to lose count of time, till she was awakened bythe rocking and tossing of the boat and loud peremptory commands. She became for the first time in her life miserable with sea-sickness, for how long it was impossible to tell, and the pitchingof the boat became so violent that when she found herself bound toone of the seats she was conscious of little but a longing to beallowed to go to the bottom in peace, except that some great cause--she could hardly in her bewildered wretchedness recollect what--forbade her to die till her mission was over. 

There were loud peremptory orders, oaths, sea phrases, in French andEnglish, sometimes in that unknown tongue. Something expressed thata light was directing to a landing-place, but reaching it wasdoubtful. 

"Unbind her eyes, " said a voice; "let her shift for herself. "

"Better not. "

There followed a fresh upheaval, as if the boat were perpendicular;a sudden sinking, some one fell over and bruised her; anotherfrightful rising and falling, then smoothness; the rope that heldher fast undone; the keel grating; hands apparently dragging up theboat. She was lifted out like a doll, carried apparently throughwater over shingle. Light again made itself visible; she was in ahouse, set down on a chair, in the warmth of fire, amid a buzz ofvoices, which lulled as the bandage was untied and removed. Hereyes were so dazzled, her head so giddy, her senses so faint, thateverything swam round her, and there that strange vision recurred. Peregrine Oakshott was before her. She closed her eyes again, asshe lay back in the chair. 

"Take this; you will be better. " A glass was at her lips, and sheswallowed some hot drink, which revived her so that she opened hereyes again, and by the lights in an apparently richly curtainedroom, she again beheld that figure standing by her, the glass in hishand. 

"Oh!" she gasped. "Are you alive?"

The answer was to raise her still gloved hand with substantialfingers to a pair of lips. 

"Then--then--he is safe! Thank God!" she murmured, and shut hereyes again, dizzy and overcome, unable even to analyse herconviction that all would be well, and that in some manner he hadcome to her rescue. 

"Where am I?" she murmured dreamily. "In Elf-land?"

"Yes; come to be Queen of it. "

The words blended with her confused fancies. Indeed she was hardlyfully conscious of anything, except that a woman's hands were abouther, and that she was taken into another room, where her drenchedclothes were removed, and she was placed in a warm, narrow bed, where some more warm nourishment was put into her mouth with aspoon, after which she sank into a sleep of utter exhaustion. Thatsleep lasted long. There was a sensation of the rocking of theboat, and of aching limbs, through great part of the time; alsothere seemed to be a continual roaring and thundering around her, and such strange misty visions, that when she finally awoke, after along interval of deeper and sounder slumber, she was incapable ofseparating the fact from the dream, more especially as head andlimbs were still heavy, weary, and battered. The strange roaringstill sounded, and sometimes seemed to shake the bed. Twilight wascoming in at a curtained window, and showed a tiny chamber, withrafters overhead and thatch, a chest, a chair, and table. There wasa pallet on the floor, and Anne suspected that she had been wakenedby the rising of its occupant. Her watch was on the chair by herside, but it had not been wound, and the dim light did not increase, so that there was no guessing the time; and as the remembrance ofher dreadful adventures made themselves clear, she realised withexceeding terror that she must be a prisoner, while the evening'sapparition relegated itself to the world of dreams. 

Being kidnapped to be sent to the plantations was the dread of thosedays. But if such were the case, what would become of Charles? Inthe alarm of that thought she sat up in bed and prepared to rise, but could nowhere see her clothes, only the little cloth bag oftoilet necessaries that she had taken with her. 

At that moment, however, the woman came in with a steaming cup ofchocolate in her hand and some of the garments over her arm. Shewas a stout, weather-beaten, kindly-looking woman with a high whitecap, gold earrings, black short petticoat, and many-coloured apron. "Monsieur veut savoir si mademoiselle va bien?" said she in slowcareful French, and when questions in that language were eagerlypoured out, she shook her head, and said, "Ne comprends pas. " She, however, brought in the rest of the clothes, warm water, and alight, so that Anne rose and dressed, exceedingly perplexed, andwondering whether she could be in a ship, for the sounds seemed tosay so, and there was no corresponding motion. Could she be inFrance? Certainly the voyage had seemed interminable, but she didnot think it _could_ have been long enough for that, nor that anyperson in his senses would try to cross in an open boat in suchweather. She looked at the window, a tiny slip of glass, too thickto show anything but what seemed to be a dark wall rising near athand. Alas! she was certainly a prisoner! In whose hands? Withwhat intent? How would it affect that other prisoner at Winchester?Was that vision of last night substantial or the work of herexhausted brain? What could she do? It was well for her that shecould believe in the might of prayer. 

She durst not go beyond her door, for she heard men's tones, suppressed and gruff, but presently there was a knock, and wonder ofwonders, she beheld Hans, black Hans, showing all his white teeth ina broad grin, and telling her that Missee Anne's breakfast wasready. The curtain that overhung the door was drawn back, and shepassed into another small room, with a fire on the open hearth, anda lamp hung from a beam, the walls all round covered with carpets orstuffs of thick glowing colours, so that it was like the inside of atent. And in the midst, without doubt, stood Peregrine Oakshott, insuch a dress as was usually worn by gentlemen in the morning--aloose wrapping coat, though with fine lace cuffs and cravat, all, like the shoes and silk stockings, worn with his peculiardaintiness, and, as was usual when full-bottomed wigs were the rulein grande tenue, its place supplied by a silken cap. This was olivegreen with a crimson tassel, which had assumed exactly thecharacteristic one-sided Riquet-with-a-tuft aspect. For the rest, these years seemed to have made the slight form slighter and morewiry, and the face keener, more sallow, and more marked. 

He bowed low with the foreign courtesy which used to be so offensiveto his contemporaries, and offered a delicate, beringed hand to leadthe young lady to the little table, where grilled fowl and rolls, both showing the cookery of Hans, were prepared for her. 

"I hope you rested well, and have an appetite this morning. "

"Sir, what does it all mean? Where am I?" asked Anne, drawingherself up with the native dignity that she felt to be her defence. 

"In Elf-land, " he said, with a smile, as he heaped her plate. 

"Speak in earnest, " she entreated. "I cannot eat till I understand. It is no time for trifling! Life and death hang on my reachingLondon! If you saved me from those men, let me go free. "

"No one can move at present, " he said. "See here. "

He drew back a curtain, opened first one door and then another, andshe saw sheets of driving rain, and rising, roaring waves, with surfwhich came beating in on the force of such a fearful gust of windthat Peregrine hastily shut the door, not without difficulty. "Nobody can stir at present, " he said, as they came into the warmbright room again. "It is a frightful tempest, the worst known herefor years, they say. The dead-lights, as they call them, have beenput in, or the windows would be driven in. Come and taste Hans'swork; you know it of old. Will you drink tea? Do you remember howyour mother came to teach mine to brew it, and how she forgave mefor being graceless enough to squirt at her?"

There was something so gentle and reassuring in the demeanour ofthis strange being that Anne, convinced of the utter hopelessness ofconfronting the storm, as well as of the need of gathering strength, allowed herself to be placed in a chair, and to partake of the foodset before her, and the tea, which was served without milk, in anexquisite dragon china cup, but with a saucer that did not match it. 

"We don't get our sets perfect, " said Peregrine, with a smile, whowas waiting on her as if she were a princess. 

"I entreat you to tell me where we are!" said Anne. "Not inFrance?"

"No, not in France! I wish we were. "

"Then--can this be the Island?"

"Yes, the Island it is, " said Peregrine, both speaking as SouthHants folk; "this is the strange cave or chasm called Black GangChine. "

"Black Gang! Oh! the highwaymen, the pirates! You have saved mefrom them. Were they going to send me to the plantations?"

"You need have no fears. No one shall touch you, or hurt you. Youshall see no one save by your own consent, my queen. "

"And when this storm is passed--Oh!" as a more fearful roar and dashsounded as if the waves were about to sweep away their frailshelter--"you will come with me and save Mr. Archfield's life? Youcannot know--"

"I know, " he interrupted; "but why should I be solicitous for hislife? That I am here now is no thanks to him, and why should I giveup mine for the sake of him who meant to make an end of me?"

"You little know how he repented. And your own life? What do youmean?"

"People don't haunt the Black Gang Chine when their lives are securefrom Dutch Bill, " he answered. "Don't be terrified, my queen;though I cannot lay claim, like Prospero, to having raised thisstorm by my art magic, yet it perforce gives me time to make youunderstand who and what I am, and how I have recovered my betterangel to give her no mean nor desperate career. It will be betterthus than with the suddenness with which I might have had to act. "

A new alarm seized upon Anne as to his possible intentions, but shewould not forestall what she so much apprehended, and, sensible thatself-control alone could guard her, since escape at present wasclearly impossible, she resigned herself to sit opposite to him bythe ample hearth of what she perceived to be a fisherman's hut, thusfitted up luxuriously with, it might be feared, the spoils of thesea. 

The story was a long one, and not by any means told consecutively orwithout interruption, and all the time those eyes were upon her, oneyellow the other green, with the effect she knew so well of old inchildish days, of repulsion yet compulsion, of terror yetattraction, as if irresistibly binding a reluctant will. Severaltimes Peregrine was called off to speak to some one outside thedoor, and at noon he begged permission for his friends to dine withthem, saying that there was no other place where the dinner could betaken to them comfortably in this storm. 

CHAPTER XXXII: SEVEN YEARS

"It was between the night and day, When the Fairy King has power, That I sunk down in a sinful fray, And 'twixt life and death was snatched away To the joyless Elfin bower. "

SCOTT. 

This motto was almost the account that the twisted figure, withqueer contortions of face, yet delicate feet and hands, and daintyutterance, might have been expected to give, when Anne asked him, "Was it you, really?"

"I--or my double?" he asked. "When?"

She told him, and he seemed amazed. 

"So you were there? Well, you shall hear. You know how thingsstood with me--your mother, my good spirit, dead, my uncle away, myfather bent on driving me to utter desperation, and Martha Browninglaying her great red hands on me--"

"Oh, sir, she really loved you, and is far wiser and more tolerantthan you thought her. "

"I know, " he smiled grimly. "She buried the huge Scot that waskilled in the great smuggling fray under the Protector, with allhonours, in our family vault, and had a long-winded sermon preachedon my untimely end. Ha! ha!" with his mocking laugh. 

"Don't, sir! If you had seen your father then! Why did no one comeforward and explain?"

"Mayhap there were none at hand who knew, or wished to meddle withthe law, " he said. "Well, things were beyond all bearing at home, and you were going away, and would not so much as look at me. Now, one of the few sports my father did not look askance at was fishing, and he would endure my being out at night with, as he thought, poorman, old Pete Perring, who was as stern a Puritan as himself; but Ihad livelier friends, and more adventurous. They had connectionswith French free-traders for brandy and silks, and when they found Iwas one with them, my French tongue was a boon to them, till I cameto have a good many friends among the Norman fishermen, and to knowthe snug hiding-places about the coast. So at last I made up mymind to be off with them, and make my way to my uncle in Muscovy. Ihad raised money enough at play and on the jewels one picks up in anenvoy's service, and there was one good angel whom I meant to takewith me if I could secure her and bind her wings. Now you know withwhat hopes I saw you gathering flowers alone that morning. "

Anne clasped her hands; Charles had truly interfered with goodcause. 

"I had all arranged, " he continued; "my uncle would have given you ahearty welcome, and made our peace with my father, or if not, hewould have left us all his goods, and secured my career. What callhad that great lout, with a wife of his own too, to come thrustingbetween us? I thought I should make short work of him, and give hima lesson against meddling--great unlicked cub as he was, while I hadhad the best training at Berlin and Paris in fencing; but somehowthose big strong fellows, from their very clumsiness, throw one out. And he meant mischief--yes, that he did. I saw it in his eyes. Isuppose his sulky rustic jealousy was a-fire at a few littlecivilities to that poor little wife of his. Any way, when he boreme down like the swing of a windmill, he drove his sword home. Talkof his being innocent! Why should he never look whether I were deador alive, but fling me headlong into that pit?"

Anne could not but utter her eager defence, but it was met with asinister smile, half of scorn, half of pity, and as she would havegone on, "Hush! your pleading only fills up the measure of myloathing. "

Her heart sank, but she let him go on, listening perhaps lessattentively as she considered how to take him. 

"In fact, " he continued, "little as the lubber knew it, 'twas thebest he could have done for me. For though I never looked for suchluck as your being out in the court at that hour, I did think thechance not to be lost of visiting the garden or the churchyard, andthere were waiting in the vault a couple of stout Normans, who wereto come at my whistle. It seems that when I came tumbling down intheir midst, senseless and bleeding like a calf, they did not takeit quite so easily as your champion above, but began doing what theycould for me, and were trying to staunch the wound, when they hearda trampling and a rumbling overhead, and being aware that ourundertaking might look ugly in the sight of the law, and thinkingthis might be pursuers, they carried me off with all speed, not somuch as stopping to pick up the things that have made such acommotion. Was there any pursuit?"

"Oh no; it must have been the haymakers. "

"No doubt. The place was in no great favour with our own people;they were in awe of the big Scot, who is in comfortable quarters inmy grave, and the Frenchmen could not have found their way thither, so it was let alone till Mistress Martha's researches. So I came tomyself in the boat in which they took me on board the lugger thatwas waiting for us; and instead of making for Alderney, as I hadintended, so as to get the knot safely tied to your satisfaction, they sailed straight for Havre. They had on board a Jesuit father, whom I had met once or twice among the Duke of Berwick's people, butwho had found Portsmouth too hot to hold him in the frenzy ofProtestant zeal on the Bishops' account. He had been beset, andowed his life, he says, to the fists of the Breton and Normansailors, who had taken him on board. It was well for me, for Idoubt if ever I was tough enough to have withstood my good friends'treatment. He had me carried to a convent in Havre, where thefathers nursed me well; and before I was on my legs again, I hadmade up my mind to cast in my lot with them, or rather with theirChurch. "

"Oh!"

"I had been baulked of winning the one being near whom my devilnever durst come. And blood-letting had pretty well disposed ofhim. I was as meek and mild as milk under the good fathers. Moreover, as my good friend at Turin had told me, and they repeatedit, such a doubly heretical baptism as mine was probably invalid, and accounted for my being as much a vessel of wrath as even myfather was pleased to call me. There was the Queen's rosary drawingme too. Everything else was over with me, and it seemed to open anew life. So, bless me, what a soft and pious frame I was in whenthey chastened me, water, oil, salt and all, on what my father ragedat folks calling Lammas Day, but which it seems really belongs toSt. Peter in the Fetters. So I was named Pierre or Piers after him, thus keeping my own initial. "

"Piers! oh! not Piers Pigwiggin?"

"Pierre de Pilpignon, if you please. I have a right to that too;but we shall come to it by and by. I can laugh now, or perhapsweep, over the fervid state I was in then, as if I had trodden downmy snake, and by giving up everything--you, estate, career, I couldkeep him down. So it was settled that I would devote myself to thepriesthood--don't laugh!--and I was ordered off to their seminary inLondon, partly, I believe, for the sake of piloting a couple offathers, who could not speak a word of English. It was, as theyrightly judged, the last place where my father would think oflooking for me, but they did not as rightly judge that we shouldlong keep possession there. Matters grew serious, and it was notover safe in the streets. There was a letter of importance from afriend in Holland, carrying the Prince of Orange's hypocriticalDeclaration, which was to be got to Father Petre or the King on thenight--Hallowmas Eve it was--and I was told off to put on a seculardress, which I could wear more naturally than most of them, andconvey it. "

"Ah, that explains!"

"Apparition number one! I guessed you were somewhere in thoseparts, and looked up at the windows, and though I did not see you, Ibelieve it was your eyes that first sent a thrill through me thatboded ill for Roman orders. After that we lived in a continualstate of rumours and alarms, secret messages and expeditions, untilI, being strong in the arm and the wind and a feather-weight, wasone of those honoured by rowing the Queen and Prince across theriver. M. De St. Victor accepted me. He told me there would be twonurses, but never knew or cared who they were, nor did I guess, aswe sat in the dark, how near I was to you. And only for one seconddid I see your face, as you were entering the carriage, and Iblessed you the more for what you were doing for Her Majesty. "

He proceeded to tell how he had accompanied the Jesuit fathers, ontheir leaving London, to the great English seminary at Douai, andbeing for the time convinced by them that his feelings towards Annewere a delusion of the enemy, he had studied with all his might, andas health and monotony of life began to have their accustomed effectin rousing the restlessness and mischievousness of his nature, withall the passions of manhood growing upon him, he strove to forcethem down by fasting and scourging. He told, in a bitter, almostsavage way, of his endeavours to flog his demon out of himself, andof his anger and disappointment at finding Piers Pilgrim in theseminary of Douai, quite as subject to his attacks as ever was PerryOakshott under a sermon of Mr. Horncastle's. 

Then came the information among the students that the governor ofthe city, the Marquis de Nidemerle, had brought some Englishgentlemen and ladies to visit the gardens. As most of the studentswere of British families there was curiosity as to who they were, and thus Peregrine heard that one was young Archfield of theHampshire family, with his tutor, and the lady was Mistress Darpent, daughter to a French lawyer, who had settled in England after theFronde. Anne's name had not transpired, for she was viewed merelyas an attendant. Peregrine had been out on some errand in the town, and had a distant view of his enemy as he held him, flaunting aboutwith a fine lady on his arm, forgetting the poor little pretty wifewhom no doubt he had frightened to death. "

"Oh! you little know how tenderly he speaks of her. "

"Tenderly!--that's the way they speak of me at Oakwood, eh? Human, not to say elf, nature, could not withstand giving the fellow astart. I sped off, whipped into the Church, popped into a surpliceI found ready to hand, caught up a candle, and!--Little did I thinkwho it was that was hanging on his arm. So little did I know itthat my heart began to be drawn to St. Germain, where I stillimagined you. Altogether, after that prank, all broke out again. Ientertained the lads with a few more freaks, for which I did amplepenance, but it grew on me that in my case all was a weariness and asham, and that my demon might get a worse hold of me if I got into acourse of hypocrisy. They were very good to me, those fathers, butJesuits as they were, I doubt whether they ever fathomed me. Anyway, perhaps they thought I should be a scandal, but they agreedwith me that their order was not my vocation, and that we had betterpart before my fiend drove me to do so with dishonour. They evengave me recommendations to the French officers that were besiegingTournay. I knew the Duke of Berwick a little at Portsmouth, and itended in my becoming under-secretary to the Duke of Chartres. A manwho knows languages has his value among Frenchmen, who despise allbut their own. "

Peregrine did not enter into full details of this stage of hiscareer, and Anne was not fully informed of the habits that the youngDuke of Chartres, the future Regent Duke of Orleans, was alreadydeveloping, but she gathered that, what the young man called hisdemon, had nearly undisputed sway over him, and she had not spenteight months at St. Germain without knowing by report of thedissolute manners of the substratum of fashionable society at Paris, even though outward decorum had been restored by Madame deMaintenon. Yet he seemed to have been crossed by fits of vehementpenitence, and almost the saddest part of the story was the mockingtone in which he alluded to these. 

He had sought service at the Court in the hope of meeting MissWoodford there, and had been grievously disappointed when he foundthat she had long since returned to England. The sight of thegracious and lovely countenance of the exiled Queen seemed always tohave moved and touched him, as in some inexplicable manner her eyesand expression recalled to him those of Mrs. Woodford and Anne; butthe thought had apparently only stung him into the sense of beingforsaken and abandoned to his own devices or those of his evilspirit. 

One incident, occurring some three years previously, he told morefully, as it had a considerable effect on his life. "I wasattending the Duke in the gardens at Versailles, " he said, "when wewere aware of a great commotion. All the gentlemen were standinggazing up into the top of a great chestnut tree, the King and all, and in the midst stood the Abbe de Fenelon with his little pupils, the youngest, the Duke of Anjou, sobbing piteously, and the Duke ofBurgundy in a furious passion, stamping and raging, and onlywithheld from rolling on the ground by the Abbe's hand grasping hisshoulder. 'I will not have him killed! He is mine, ' he cried. Andup in the tree, the object of all their gaze, was a monkey with apaper fluttering in his hand. Some one had made a present of thecreature to the King's grandsons; he was the reigning favourite, andhaving broken his chain, had effected an entrance by the window intothe King's cabinet, where after giving himself the airs of aminister of state, on being interrupted, he had made off through thewindow with an important document, which he was affecting to peruseat his leisure, only interrupting himself to hurl down leaves orunripe chestnuts at those who attempted to pelt him with stones, andthis only made him mount higher and higher, entirely out of theirreach, for no one durst climb after him. I believe it was a letterfrom the King of Spain; at any rate the whole Cabinet was in agonylest the brute should proceed to tear it into fragments, and amusqueteer had been sent for to shoot him down. I remembered mysuccess with the monkey on poor little Madam Archfield's back--nay, perhaps 'twas the same, my familiar taking shape. I threw myself atthe King's feet, and desired permission to deal with the beast. Bygood luck it had not been so easy as they supposed to find a musquetfit for immediate use, so I had full time. To ascend the tree wasno more than I had done many times before, and I went high in thebranches, but cautiously, not to give Monsieur le Singe the idea ofbeing pursued, lest he should leap to a bough incapable ofsupporting me. When I had reached a fork tolerably high, and wherehe could see me, I settled myself, took out a letter, whichfortunately was in my pocket, read it with the greatestdeliberation, the monkey watching me all the time, and finally Iproceeded to fold it neatly in all its creases. The creatureimitated me with its black fingers, little aware, poor thing, thatthe musqueteer had covered him with his weapon, and was waiting forthe first sign of tearing the letter to pull the trigger, butwithheld by a sign from the King, who did not wish to sacrifice hisgrandson's pet before his eyes. Finally, after finishing thefolding, I doubled it a second time, and threw it at the animal. Tomy great joy he returned the compliment by throwing the other at myhead. I was able to catch it, and moreover, as he was disposed togo in pursuit of his plaything, he swung his chain so near me that Igot hold of it, twisted it round my arm, and made the best of my waydown the tree, amid the 'Bravos!' started by the royal lipsthemselves, and repeated with ecstasy by all the crowd, who wavedtheir hats, and made such a hallooing that I had much ado to get themonkey down safely; but finally, all dishevelled, with my best cuffsand cravat torn to ribbons, and my wig happily detached, unlikeAbsalom's, for it remained in the tree, I had the honour ofpresenting on my knee the letter to the King, and the monkey to thePrinces. I kissed His Majesty's hand, the little Duke of Anjoukissed the monkey, and the Duke of Burgundy kissed me with armsround my neck, then threw himself on his knees before hisgrandfather to ask pardon for his passion. Every one said myfortune was made, and that my agility deserved at least the cordonbleu. My own Duke of Chartres, who in many points is like hiscousin, our late King Charles, gravely assured me that a new officewas to be invented for me, and that I was to be Grand Singier duRoi. I believe he pushed my cause, and so did the little Duke ofBurgundy, and finally I got the pension without the office, and agood deal of occasional employment besides, in the way oftranslation of documents. There were moments of success at play. Oh yes, quite fairly, any one with wits about him can make hisprofit in the long-run among the Court set. And thus I had enoughto purchase a pretty little estate and chateau on the coast ofNormandy, the confiscated property of a poor Huguenot refugee, sothat it went cheap. It gives the title of Pilpignon, which Iassumed in kindness to the tongues of my French friends. So yousee, I have a station and property to which to carry you, my fairone, won by myself, though only by catching an ape. "

He went on to say that the spot had been chosen advisedly, with aview to communication with the opposite coast, where his oldconnection with the smugglers was likely to be useful in theJacobite plots. "As you well know, " he said, "my father had donehis utmost to make Whiggery stink in my nostrils, to say nothing ofthe kindness I have enjoyed from our good Queen; and I was ready todo my utmost in the cause, especially after I had stolen a glimpseof you, and when Charnock, poor fellow, returning from reconnoitringamong the loyal, told me that you were still unmarried, and livingas a dependent in the Archfields' house. Our headquarters were inRomney Marsh, but it was as well to have, as it were, a back doorhere, and as it has turned out it has been the saving of some ofus. "

"Oh, sir! you were not in that wicked plot?"

"Nay; surely _you_ are not turned Whig. "

"But this was assassination. "

"Not at all, if they would have listened to me. The Dutchman is nobigger than I am. I could have dropped on him from one of his treesat Hampton Court, or through a window, via presto, and we would havehad him off by the river, given him an interview to beg his uncle'spardon, and despatched him for the benefit of his asthma to thecompany of the Iron Mask at St. Marguerite; then back again, theKing to enjoy his own again, Dr. Woodford, archbishop or bishop ofwhatever you please, and a lady here present to be Marquise dePilpignon, or Countess of Havant, whichever she might prefer. Yes, truly those were the hopes with which I renewed my communicationswith the contraband trade on this coast, a good deal more numeroussince the Dutchman and his wars have raised the duties and drivenmany good men to holes and corners. 

"Ever since last spring, when the Princess Royal died, and thusextinguished the last spark of forbearance in the King's breast, Ihave been here, there, and everywhere--Romney Marsh, Drury Lane, Paris, besides this place and Pilpignon, where I have a snug harbourfor the yacht, Ma Belle Annik, as the Breton sailors call her. Thecrew are chiefly Breton; it saves gossip; but I have a boat's crewof our own English folk here, stout fellows, ready for anything byland or sea. "

"The Black Gang, " said Anne faintly. 

"Don't suppose I have meddled in their exploits on the road, " hesaid, "except where a King's messenger or a Royal mail wasconcerned, and that is war, you know, for the cause. Unluckily mypersonal charms are not easily disguised, so that I have had to lurkin the background, and only make my private investigations in theguise of my own ghost. "

"Then so it was you saved the dear little Philip?" said Anne. 

"The Archfield boy? I could not see a child sent to his destructionby that villain Sedley, whoever were his father, for he meantmischief if ever man did. 'Twas superhuman scruple not to hold yourpeace and let him swing. "

"What was it, then, on his cousin's part?"

Peregrine only answered with a shrug. It appeared further, that aslong as the conspirators had entertained any expectation of success, he had merely kept a watch over Anne, intending to claim her in thehour of the triumph of his party, when he looked to enjoy such aposition as would leave his brother free to enjoy his paternalinheritance. In the failure of all their schemes through Mr. Pendergrast's denunciation, Sir George Barclay, and one or twoinferior plotters, had succeeded in availing themselves of theassistance of the Black Gang, and had been conducted by Peregrine tothe hut that he had fitted up for himself. Still trusting to thesecurity there, although his name of Piers Pilgrim or de Pilpignonhad been among those given up to the Privy Council, he had insistedon lingering, being resolved that an attempt should be made to carryaway the woman he had loved for so many years. Captain Burford hadso disguised himself as to be able to attend the trial, loiter aboutthe inn, and collect intelligence, while the others waited on thedowns. Peregrine had watched over the capture, but being unwillingto disclose himself, had ridden on faster and crossed direct, traversing the Island on horseback, while the captive was roundingit in the boat. "As should never have been done, " he said, "could Ihave foretold to what stress of weather you would be exposed while Iwas preparing for your reception. But for this storm--it rageslouder than ever--we would have been married by a little parson whomBurford would have fetched from Portsmouth, and we should have beenover the Channel, and my people hailing my bride with ecstasy. "

"Never!" exclaimed Anne. "Can you suppose I could accept one whowould leave an innocent man to suffer?"

"People sometimes are obliged to accept, " said Peregrine. Then ather horrified start, "No, no, fear no violence; but is not somethingdue to one who has loved you through exile all these years, andwould lay down his life for you? you, the only being who overcomeshis evil angel!"

"This is what you call overcoming it, " she said. 

"Nay; indeed, Mistress Anne, I would let the authorities know thatthey are hanging a man for murdering one who is still alive if Icould; but no one would believe without seeing, and I and all whocould bear witness to my existence would be rushing to an end evenworse than a simple noose. You were ready enough to denounce him tosave that worthless fellow. "

"Not ready. It tore my heart. But truth is truth. I could not dothat wickedness. Oh! how can you? This _is_ the prompting of theevil spirit indeed, to expect me to join in leaving that innocent, generous spirit to die in cruel injustice. Let me go. I will notbetray where you are. You will be safe in France; but there willyet be time for me to bear witness to your life. Write a letter. Your father would thankfully swear to your handwriting, and I thinkthey would believe me. Only let me go. "

"And what then becomes of the hopes of a lifetime?" demandedPeregrine. "I, who have waited as long as Jacob, to be defraudednow I have you; and for the sake of the fellow who killed me in willif not in deed, and then ran away like a poltroon leaving you tobear the brunt!"

"He did not act like a poltroon when he saved the life of hisgeneral, or when he rescued the colours of his regiment, still lesswhen he stood up to save me from the pain of bearing witness againsthim, and to save a guiltless man, " cried Anne, with flashing eyes. 

Before she had finished her indignant words, Hans was coming in fromsome unknown region to lay the cloth for supper, and Peregrine, withan imprecation under his breath, had gone to the door to admit histwo comrades, who came into the narrow entry on a gust of wind as itwere, struggling out of their cloaks, stamping and swearing. 

In the middle of the day, they had been much more restrained intheir behaviour. There had at that time been a slight clearance inthe sky, though the wind was as furious as ever, and they were inhaste to despatch the meal and go out again to endeavour to stand onthe heights and to watch some vessels that were being tossed by thestorm. Almost all the conversation had then been on the chances oftheir weathering the tempest, and the probability of its lasting on, and they had hurried away as soon as possible. Anne had not thenknown who they were, and only saw that they were fairly civil toher, and kept under a certain constraint by Pilpignon, as theycalled their host. Now she fully knew the one who was addressed asSir George to be Barclay, the prime mover in the wicked scheme ofassassination of which all honest Tories had been so much ashamed, and she could see Captain Burford to be one of those bravoes whowere only too plentiful in those days, attending on dissolute andviolent nobles. 

She was the less inclined to admit their attentions, and shieldedherself with a grave coldness of stately manners; but their talk wasfar more free than at noon, suggesting the thought that they hadanticipated the meal with some of the Nantz or other liquors thatseemed to be in plenty. 

They began by low bows of affected reverence, coarser and worse inthe ruffian of inferior grade, and the knight complimented Pilpignonon being a lucky dog, and hoped he had made the best use of his timein spite of the airs of his duchess. It was his own fault if hewere not enjoying such fair society, while they, poor devils, werebuffeting with the winds, which had come on more violently thanever. Peregrine broke in with a question about the vessels insight. 

There was an East Indiaman, Dutch it was supposed, laying-to, thatwas the cause of much excitement. "If she drives ashore our fellowswill neither be to have nor to hold, " said Sir George. 

"They will obey me, " said Peregrine quietly. 

"More than the sea will just yet, " laughed the captain. "However, as soon as this villainous weather is a bit abated, I'll be offacross the Island to do your little errand, and only ask a kiss ofthe bride for my pains; but if the parson be at Portsmouth therewill be no getting him to budge till the water is smooth. Nevermind, madam, we'll have a merry wedding feast, whichever side of thewater it is. I should recommend the voyage first for my part. "

All Anne could do was to sit as upright and still as she could, apparently ignoring the man's meaning. She did not know howdignified she looked, and how she was daunting his insolence. Whenpresently Sir George Barclay proposed as a toast a health to thebride of to-morrow, she took her part by raising the glass to herlips as well as the gentlemen, and adding, "May the brides be happy, wherever they may be. "

"Coy, upon my soul, " laughed Sir George. "You have not made thebest of your opportunities, Pil. " But with an oath, "It becomes herwell. "

"A truce with fooling, Barclay, " muttered Peregrine. 

"Come, come, remember faint heart--no lowering your crest, more thanenough to bring that devilish sparkle in the eyes, and turn of theneck!"

"Sir, " said Anne rising, "Monsieur de Pilpignon is an old neighbour, and understands how to respect his most unwilling guest. I wish youa good-night, gentlemen. Guennik, venez ici, je vous prie. "

Guennik, the Breton boatswain's wife, understood French thus far, and comprehended the situation enough to follow willingly, leavingthe remainder of the attendance to Hans, who was fully equal to it. The door was secured by a long knife in the post, but Anne couldhear plainly the rude laugh at her entrenchment within her fortressand much of the banter of Peregrine for having proceeded no further. It was impossible to shut out all the voices, and very alarming theywere, as well as sometimes so coarse that they made her cheeks glow, while she felt thankful that the Bretonne could not understand. 

These three men were all proscribed traitors in haste to be off, butPeregrine, to whom the yacht and her crew belonged, had lingered toobtain possession of the lady, and they were declaring that now theyhad caught his game and given him his toy, they would brook nolonger delay than was absolutely necessitated by the storm, andmarried or not married, he and she should both be carried offtogether, let the damsel-errant give herself what haughty airs shewould. It was a weak concession on their part to the old Puritanscruples that he might have got rid of by this time, to attempt tobring about the marriage. They jested at him for being afraid ofher, and then there were jokes about gray mares. 

The one voice she could not hear was Peregrine's, perhaps because herealised more than they did that she was within ear-shot, andbesides, he was absolutely sober; but she thought he silenced them;and then she heard sounds of card-playing, which made anaccompaniment to her agonised prayers. 

CHAPTER XXXIII: BLACK GANG CHINE

"Come, Lady; while Heaven lends us grace, Let us fly this cursed place, Lest the sorcerer us enticeWith some other new device. Not a word or needless soundTill we come to holier ground. I shall be your faithful guideThrough this gloomy covert wide. "

MILTON. 

Never was maiden in a worse position than that in which AnneWoodford felt herself when she revolved the matter. The back of theIsle of Wight, all along the Undercliff, had always had a wildreputation, and she was in the midst of the most lawless of men. Peregrine alone seemed to have any remains of honour or conscience, and apparently he was in some degree in the hands of his associates. Even if the clergyman came, there was little hope in an appeal tohim. Naval chaplains bore no good reputation, and Portsmouth andCowes were haunted by the scum of the profession. All that seemedpossible was to commit herself and Charles to Divine protection, andin that strength to resist to the uttermost. The tempest hadreturned again, and seemed to be raging as much as ever, and thedelay was in her favour, for in such weather there could be noputting to sea. 

She was unwilling to leave the stronghold of her chamber, but Hanscame to announce breakfast to her, telling her that the Mynheerenwere gone, all but Massa Perry; and that gentleman came forward tomeet her just as before, hoping 'those fellows had not disturbed herlast night. '

"I could not help hearing much, " she said gravely. 

"Brutes!" he said. "I am sick of them, and of this life. Save forthe King's sake, I would never have meddled with it. "

The roar of winds and waves and the beat of spray was still to beheard, and in the manifest impossibility of quitting the place andthe desire of softening him, Anne listened while he talked in adifferent mood from the previous day. The cynical tone was gone, ashe spoke of those better influences. He talked of Mrs. Woodford andhis deep affection for her, of the kindness of the good priests atHavre and Douai, and especially of one Father Seyton, who had triedto reason with him in his bitter disappointment, and savagepenitence on finding that 'behind the Cross lurks the Devil, ' asmuch at Douai as at Havant. He told how a sermon of the AbbeFenelon's had moved him, and how he had spent half a Lent in theseverest penance, but only to have all swept away again in the wildand wicked revelry with which Easter came in. Again he describedhow his heart was ready to burst as he stood by Mrs. Woodford'sgrave at night and vowed to disentangle himself and lead a new life. 

"And with you I shall, " he said. 

"No, " she answered; "what you win by a crime will never do yougood. "

"A crime! 'Tis no crime. You _know_ I mean honourable marriage. You owe no duty to any one. "

"It is a crime to leave the innocent to undeserved death, " she said. 

"Do you love the fellow?" he cried, with a voice rising to a shoutof rage. 

"Yes, " she said firmly. 

"Why did not you say so before?"

"Because I hoped to see you act for right and justice sake, " wasAnne's answer, fixing her eyes on him. "For God's sake, not mine. "

"Yours indeed! Think, what can be his love to mine? He who letthem marry him to that child, while I struggled and gave upeverything. Then he runs away--_runs away_--leaving you all thedistress; never came near you all these years. Oh yes! he looksdown on you as his child's governess! What's the use of loving him?There's another heiress bespoken for him no doubt. "

"No. His parents consent, and we have known one another's love forsix years. "

"Oh, that's the way he bound you to keep his secret! He would singanother song as soon as he was out of this scrape. "

"You little know!" was all she said. 

"Ay!" continued Peregrine, pacing up and down the room, "you knowthat all that was wanting to fill up the measure of my hatred wasthat he should have stolen your heart. "

"You cannot say that, sir. He was my kind protector and helper fromour very childhood. I have loved him with all my heart ever since Idurst. "

"Ay, the great straight comely lubbers have it all their own waywith the women, " said he bitterly. "I remember how he rushedheadlong at me with the horse-whip when I tripped you up at theSlype, and you have never forgiven that. "

"Oh! indeed I forgot that childish nonsense long ago. You neverserved me so again. "

"No indeed, never since you and your mother were the first to treatme like a human being. You will be able to do anything with me, sweetest lady; the very sense that you are under the same roof makesanother man of me. I loathe what I used to enjoy. Why, the verysight of you, sitting at supper like the lady in Comus, in yoursweet grave dignity, made me feel what I am, and what those men are. I heard their jests with your innocent ears. With you by my sidethe Devil's power is quelled. You shall have a peaceful beneficentlife among the poor folk, who will bless you; our good and graciousQueen will welcome you with joy and gratitude; and when the goodtime comes, as it must in a few years, you will have honours anddignities lavished on you. Can you not see what you will do forme?"

"Do you think a broken-hearted victim would be able to do you anygood?" said she, looking up with tears in her eyes. "I _do_believe, sir, that you mean well by me, in your own way, and Icould, yes, I can, be sorry for you, for my mother did feel for you, and yours has been a sad life; but how could I be of any use orcomfort to you if you dragged me away as these cruel men propose, knowing that he who has all my heart is dying guiltless, andthinking I have failed him!" and here she broke down in an agony ofweeping, as she felt the old power in his eyes that enforcedsubmission. 

He marched up and down in a sort of passion. "Don't let me see youweep for him! It makes me ready to strangle him with my own hands!"

A shout of 'Pilpignon!' at the door here carried him off, leavingAnne to give free course to the tears that she had hitherto beenable to restrain, feeling the need of self-possession. She had verylittle hope, since her affection for Charles Archfield seemed onlyto give the additional sting of jealousy, 'cruel as the grave, ' tothe vindictive temper Peregrine already nourished, and whichcertainly came from his evil spirit. She shed many tears, andsobbed unrestrainingly till the Bretonne came and patted hershoulder, and said, "Pauvre, pauvre!" And even Hans looked in, saying, "Missee Nana no cry, Massa Perry great herr--very goot. "

She tried to compose herself, and think over alternatives to laybefore Peregrine. He might let her go, and carry to Sir EdmundNutley letters to which his father would willingly swear, while hewas out of danger in Normandy. Or if this was far beyond what couldbe hoped for, surely he could despatch a letter to his father, andfor such a price she _must_ sacrifice herself, though it cost heranguish unspeakable to call up the thought of Charles, of littlePhilip, of her uncle, and the old people, who loved her so well, allforsaken, and with what a life in store for her! For she had notthe slightest confidence in the power of her influence, whateverPeregrine might say and sincerely believe at present. If therewere, more palpably than with all other human beings, angels of goodand evil contending for him, swaying him now this way and now that;it was plain from his whole history that nothing had yet availed tokeep him under the better influence for long together; and shebelieved that if he gained herself by these unjust and cruel meansthe worse spirit would thereby gain the most absolute advantage. Ifher heart had been free, and she could have loved him, she mighthave hoped, though it would have been a wild and forlorn hope; butas it was, she had never entirely surmounted a repulsion from him, as something strange and unnatural, a feeling involving fear, thoughhere he was her only hope and protector, and an utter uncertainty asto what he might do. She could only hope that she might pine awayand die quickly, and _perhaps_ Charles Archfield might know at lastthat it had been for his sake. And would it be in her power to makeeven such terms as these?

How long she wept and prayed and tried to 'commit her way unto theLord' she did not know, but light seemed to be making its way farmore than previously through the shutters closed against the stormwhen Peregrine returned. 

"You will not be greatly troubled with those fellows to-day, " hesaid; "there's a vessel come on the rocks at Chale, and every manand mother's son is gone after it. " So saying he unfastened theshutters and let in a flood of sunshine. "You would like a littleair, " he said; "'tis all quiet now, and the tide is going down. "

After two days' dark captivity, Anne could not but be relieved bycoming out, and she was anxious to understand where she was. Itwas, though only in March, glowing with warmth, as the sun beatagainst the cliffs behind, of a dark red brown, in many placesabsolutely black, in especial where a cascade, swelled by the rainsinto imposing size, came roaring, leaping, and sparkling down asheer precipice. On either side the cove or chine was closely shutin by treeless, iron-coloured masses of rock, behind one of whichthe few inhabited hovels were clustered, and the boat which hadbrought her was drawn up. In front was the sea, still lashed by afierce wind, which was driving the fantastically shaped remains ofthe great storm cloud rapidly across an intensely blue sky. Thewaves, although it was the ebb, were still tremendous, and theirroar re-echoed as they reared to fearful heights and broke with thereverberations that she had heard all along. Peregrine kept quitehigh up, not venturing below the washed line of shingle, saying thatthe back draught of the waves was most perilous, and in a high windcould not be reckoned upon. 

"No escape!" he said, as he perceived Anne's gaze on theinaccessible cliff and the whole scene, the wild beauty of which waslost to her in its terrors. 

"Where's your ship?" she asked. 

"Safe in Whale Chine. No putting to sea yet, though it may be fairto-morrow. "

Then she put before him the first scheme she had thought out, ofletting her escape to Sir Edmund Nutley's house, whence she couldmake her way back, taking with her a letter that would prove hisexistence without involving him or his friends in danger. Andeagerly she argued, "You do not know me really! It is only animagination that you can be the better for my presence. " Then, unheeding his fervid exclamation, "It was my dear mother who did yougood. What would she think of the way in which you are trying togain me?"

"That I cannot do without you. "

"And what would you have in me? I could be only wretched, and feelall my life--such a life as it would be--that you had wrecked myhappiness. Oh yes! I do believe that you would try to make mehappy, but don't you see that it would be quite impossible with sucha grief as that in my heart, and knowing that you had caused it? Iknow you hate him, and he did you the wrong; but he has grieved forit, and banished himself. But above all, of this I am quite sure, that to persist in this horrible evil of leaving him to die, becauseof your revenge, and stealing me away, is truly giving Satan such afrightful advantage over you that it is mere folly to think thatwinning me in such a way could do you any good. It is just a meredelusion of his, to ruin us both, body and soul. Peregrine, willyou not recollect my mother, and what she would think? Have pity onme, and help me away, and I would pledge myself never to utter aword of this place nor that could bring you and yours into danger. We would bless and pray for you always. "

"No use, " he gloomily said. "I believe you, but the others willnever believe a woman. No doubt we are watched even now bydesperate men, who would rather shoot you than let you escape fromour hands. "

It seemed almost in connection with these words that at that moment, from some unknown quarter, where probably there was an entrance tothe Chine, Sir George Barclay appeared with a leathern case underhis arm. It had been captured on the wreck, and contained paperswhich he wanted assistance in deciphering, since they were in Dutch, and he believed them to be either despatches or bonds, either ofwhich might be turned to profit. These were carried indoors, andspread on the table, and as Anne sat by the window, dejected andalmost hopeless as she was, she could not help perceiving that, though Peregrine was so much smaller and less robust than hiscompanions, he exercised over them the dominion of intellect, energy, and will, as if they too felt the force of his strange eyes;and it seemed to her as if, supposing he truly desired it, whateverhe might say, he must be able to deliver her and Charles; but that abeing such as she had always known him should sacrifice both hislove and his hate seemed beyond all hope, and "Change his heart!Turn our captivity, O Lord, " could only be her cry. 

Only very late did Burford come back, full of the account of thewreck and of the spoils, and the struggles between the wreckers forthe flotsam and jetsam. There was much of savage brutality matedwith a cool indifference truly horrible to Anne, and making herrealise into what a den of robbers she had fallen, especially asthese narratives were diversified by consultations over the Dutchletters and bills of exchange in the wrecked East Indiaman, and howto turn them to the best advantage. Barclay and Burford were sofull of these subjects that they took comparatively little notice ofthe young lady, only when she rose to retire, Burford made a sort ofapology that this little business had hindered his going after theparson. He heard that the Salamander was at the castle, andredcoats all about, he said, and if the Annick could be got out to-morrow they must sail any way; and if Pil was still so squeamish, aPopish priest could couple them in a leash as tight as a Fleetparson could. And then Peregrine demanded whether Burford thought aFleet parson the English for a naval chaplain, and there was someboisterous laughter, during which Anne shut herself up in her roomin something very like despair, with that one ray of hope that Hewho had brought her back from exile before would again save her fromthat terrible fate. 

She heard card-playing and the jingle of glasses far into the night, as she believed, but it seemed to her as if she had scarcely fallenasleep before, to her extreme terror, she heard a knock and a lowcall at her door of 'Guennik. ' Then as the Bretonne went to thedoor, through which a light was seen, a lantern was handed in, and ascrap of paper on which the words were written: "On secondthoughts, my kindred elves at Portchester shall not be scared by aworricow. Dress quickly, and I will bring you out of this. "

For a moment Anne did not perceive the meaning of the missive, theghastly idea never having occurred to her that if Charles hadsuffered, the gibbet would have been at Portchester. Then, with anelectric flash of joy, she saw that it meant relenting onPeregrine's part, deliverance for them both. She put on her clotheswith hasty, trembling hands, thankful to Guennik for helping her, pressed a coin into the strong toil-worn hand, and with an earnestthrill of thankful prayer opened the door. The driftwood fire wasbright, and she saw Peregrine, looking deadly white, and equippedwith slouched hat, short wrapping cloak, pistols and sword at hisbelt, dark lantern lighted on the table, and Hans also cloaked byhis side. He bent his head in salutation, and put his finger to hislips, giving one hand to Anne, and showing by example instead ofwords that she must tread as softly as possible, as she perceivedthat he was in his slippers, Hans carrying his boots as well as thelantern she had used. Yet to her ears the roar of the advancingtide seemed to stifle all other sounds. Past the other huts theywent in silence, then came a precipitous path up the cliff, stepscut in the hard sandy grit, but very crumbling, and in placessupplemented by a rude ladder of sticks and rope. Peregrine wentbefore Anne, Hans behind. Each had hung the lantern from his neck, so as to have hands free to draw her, support her, or lift her, asmight be needful. How it was done she never could tell in afteryears. She might jestingly say that her lightened heart bore herup, but in her soul and in her deeper moments she thought that trulyangels must have had charge over her. Up, up, up! At last they hadreached standing ground, a tolerably level space, with another highcliff seeming to rise behind it. Here it was lighter--a pale streakof dawn was spreading over the horizon, both on sky and sea, and thewaves still leaping glanced in the light of a golden waning moon, while Venus shone in the brightening sky, a daystar of hope. 

Peregrine drew a long breath, and gave an order in a very low voicein Dutch to Hans, who placed his boots before him, and went offtowards a shed. "He will bring you a pony, " said his master. 

"Excuse me;" and he was withdrawing his hand, when Anne clasped itwith both hers, and said in a voice of intense feeling--

"Oh, how can I thank you and bless you! This _is_ putting the EvilAngel to flight. "

"'Tis you that have done it! You see, I cannot do the wicked actwhere you are, " he answered gloomily, as he turned aside to draw onhis boots. 

"Ah! but you have won the victory over him!"

"Do not be too sure. We are not out of reach of those rascals yet. "

He was evidently anxious for silence, and Anne said no more. Hanspresently brought from some unknown quarter, a little stout ponybridled and saddled; of course not with a side saddle, but cloakswere arranged so as to make a fairly comfortable seat for Anne, andPeregrine led the animal on the ascent to St. Catherine's Down. Itwas light enough to dispense with the lanterns, and as they mountedhigher the glorious sight of daybreak over the sea showed itself--almost due east, the sharp points of the Needles showing up in aflood of pale golden light above and below, with gulls flashingwhite as they floated into sunlight, all seeming to Anne's thankfulheart to be a new radiance of joy and hope after the dark roaringterrors of the Chine. 

As they came out into the open freedom of the down, with crispsilvery grass under their feet, the breadth of sea on one side, before them fertile fields and hills, and farther away, dimly seenin gray mist, the familiar Portsdown outlines, not a sound to beheard but the exulting ecstasies of larks, far, far above in thedepths of blue, Peregrine dared to speak above his breath, with aquestion whether Anne were at ease in her extemporary side saddle, producing at the same time a slice of bread and meat, and a flask ofwine. 

"Oh, how kind! What care you take of me!" she said. "But where arewe going?"

"Wherever you command, " he said. "I had thought of Carisbrooke. Cutts is there, and it would be the speediest way. "

"Would it not be the most dangerous for you?"

"I care very little for my life after this. "

"Oh no, no, you must not say so. After what you are doing for meyou will be able to make it better than ever it has been. This iswhat I thought. If you would bring me in some place whence I couldreach Sir Edmund Nutley's house at Parkhurst, his servants wouldhelp me to do the rest, even if he be not there himself. I wouldnever betray you! You know I would not! And you would have fulltime to get away to your place in Normandy with your friends. "

"You care?" asked he. 

"Of course I do!" exclaimed she. "Do I not feel grateful to you, and like and honour you better than ever I could have thought?"

"You do?" in a strange choked tone. 

"Of course I do. You are doing a noble, thankworthy thing. It isnot only that I thank you for _his_ sake, but it is a grand andbeautiful deed in itself; and if my dear mother know, she isblessing you for it. "

"I shall remember those words, " he said, "if--" and he passed hishand over his eyes. "See here, " he presently said; "I have writtenout a confession of my identity, and explanation that it was I whodrew first on Archfield. It is enough to save him, and in case myhandwriting has altered, as I think it has, and there should befurther doubt, I shall be found at Pilpignon, if I get away. Youhad better keep it in case of accidents, or if you carry out yourgenerous plan. Say whatever you please about me, but there is noneed to mention Barclay or Burford; and it would not be fair to thehonest free-traders here to explain where their Chine lies. Ishould have brought you up blindfold, if I could have done so withsafety, not that _I_ do not trust you, but I should be better ableto satisfy those fellows if I ever see them again, by telling them Ihave sworn you to secrecy. "

Then he laughed. "The gowks! I won all those Indian bonds of themlast night, but left them in a parcel addressed to them as alegacy. "

Anne took the required pledge, and ventured to ask, "Shall I sayanything for you to your father?"

"My poor old father! Let him know that I neither would nor coulddisturb Robert in his inheritance, attainted traitor as the lawsesteem me. For the rest, mayhap I shall write to him if the goodangel you talk of will help me. "

"Oh do! I am sure he would rejoice to forgive. He is muchsoftened. "

"Now, we must hush, and go warily. I see sheep, and if there is ashepherd, I want him not to see us, or point our way. It is wellthese Isle of Wight folk are not early risers. "

CHAPTER XXXIV: LIFE FOR LIFE

"Follow Light, and do the Right--for man can half-control his doom--Till you find the deathless Angel seated in the vacant tomb. 

Forward, let the stormy moment fly and mingle with the Past. I that loathed, have come to love him. Love will conquer at the last. "

TENNYSON. 

On they had gone in silence for the most part, avoiding villages, but as the morning advanced and they came into more inhabitedplaces, they were not able entirely to avoid meeting labourers goingout to work, who stared at Hans's black face with curiosity. Thesun was already high when they reached a cross-road whence themassive towers of Carisbrooke were seen above the hedges, andanother turn led to Parkhurst. They paused a moment, and Anne wasbeginning to entreat her escort to leave her to proceed alone, whenthe sound of horses' feet galloping was heard behind them. Peregrine looked back. 

"Ah!" he said. "Ride on as fast as you can towards the castle. Youwill be all right. I will keep them back. Go, I say. "

And as some figures were seen at the end of the road, he pricked thepony with the point of his sword so effectually that it boltedforward, quite beyond Anne's power of checking it, and in a secondor two its speed was quickened by shouts and shots behind. Annefelt, but scarcely understood at the moment, a sharp pang and thrillin her left arm, as the steed whirled her round the corner of thelane and full into the midst of a party of gentlemen on horsebackcoming down from the castle. 

"Help! help!" she cried. "Down there. "

Attacks by highwaymen were not uncommon experiences, though scarcelyat eight o'clock in the morning, or so near a garrison, but thehorsemen, having already heard the shots, galloped forward. PerhapsAnne could hardly have turned her pony, but it chose to follow thelead of its fellows, and in a few seconds they were in the midst ofa scene of utter confusion. Peregrine was grappling with Burfordtrying to drag him from his horse. Both fell together, and as theauxiliaries came in sight there was another shot and two more menrode off headlong. 

"Follow them!" said a commanding voice. "What have we here?"

The two struggling figures both lay still for a moment or two, butas some of the riders drew them apart Peregrine sat up, though bloodwas streaming down his breast and arm. "Sir, " he said, "I amPeregrine Oakshott, on whose account young Archfield lies undersentence of death. If a magistrate will take my affidavit while Ican make it, he will be safe. "

Then Anne heard a voice exclaiming: "Oakshott! Nay--why, this isMistress Woodford! How came she here?" and she knew Sir EdmundNutley. Still it was Peregrine who answered--

"I captured her, in the hope of marrying her, but that cannot be--Ihave brought her back in all safety and honour. "

"Sir! Sir, indeed he has been very good to me. Pray let him belooked to. "

"Let him be carried to the castle, " said the commander of the party, a tall man sunburnt to a fiery red. "Is the other alive?"

"Only stunned, my lord, I think and not much hurt, " was the answerof an attendant officer; "but here is a poor blackamoor dead. "

"Poor Hans! Best so perhaps, " murmured Peregrine, as he was lifted. Then in a voice of alarm, "Look to the lady, she is hurt. "

"It is nothing, " cried she. "O Mr. Oakshott! that this should havehappened!"

"My lord, this is the young gentlewoman I told you of, betrothed topoor young Archfield, " said Sir Edmund Nutley. 

Lord Cutts, for it was indeed William's favoured 'Salamander, ' tookoff his plumed hat in salutation, and both gentlemen perceiving thatshe too was bleeding, she was solicitously invited to the castle, tobe placed under the charge of the lieutenant-governor's wife. Shefound by this time that she was in a good deal of pain, andthankfully accepted the support Sir Edmund offered her, when hedismounted and walked beside her pony, while explanations passedbetween them. The weather had prevented any communication with themainland, so that he was totally ignorant of her capture, and didnot know what had become of Mr. Fellowes. He himself had been juststarting with Lord Cutts, who was going to join the King for hisnext campaign, and they were to represent the case to the King. Anne told him in return what she dared to say, but she was becomingso faint and dazed that she was in great fear of not saying what sheought; and indeed she could hardly speak, when after passing underthe great gateway, she was lifted off her horse, at the door of thedwelling-house, and helped upstairs to a bedroom, where the wife ofthe lieutenant-governor, Mrs. Dudley, was very tender over her withessences and strong waters, and a surgeon of the suite almostimmediately came to her. 

"Oh, " she exclaimed, "you should be with Mr. Oakshott. "

The surgeon explained that Mr. Oakshott would have nothing done forhim till he had fully made and signed his deposition, in case thepower should afterwards be wanting. 

So Anne submitted to the dressing of her hurt, which was only aflesh wound, the bone being happily untouched. Both the surgeon andMrs. Dudley urged her going to bed immediately, but she wasunwilling to put herself out of reach; and indeed the dressing wasscarcely finished before Sir Edmund Nutley knocked at the door toask whether she could admit him. 

"Lord Cutts is very desirous of speaking with you, if you are able, "he said. "Here has this other fellow come round, declaring thatOakshott is the Pilpignon who was in the Barclay Plot, and besides, the prime leader of the Black Gang, of whom we have heard so much. "

"The traitor!" cried Anne. "Poor Mr. Oakshott was resolved not tobetray him! How is he--Mr. Oakshott, I mean?"

"The surgeon has him in his hands. We will send another fromPortsmouth, but it looks like a bad case. He made his confessionbravely, though evidently in terrible suffering, seeming to keep upby force of will till he had totally exonerated Archfield and signedthe deposition, and then he fainted, so that I thought him dead, butI fear he has more to go through. Can you come to the hall, orshall I bring Lord Cutts to you? We must hasten in starting that wemay bring the news to Winchester to-night. "

Anne much preferred going to the hall, though she felt weak enoughto be very glad to lean on Sir Edmund's arm. 

Lord Cutts, William's high-spirited and daring officer, received herwith the utmost courtesy and kindness, inquired after her hurt, andlamented having to trouble her, but said that though he would notdetain her long, her testimony was important, and he begged to hearwhat had happened to her. 

She gave the account of her capture and journey as shortly as shecould. 

"Whither was she taken?"

She paused. "I promised Mr. Oakshott for the sake of others--" shesaid. 

"You need have no scruples on that score, " said Lord Cutts. "Burford hopes to get off for the murder by turning King's evidence, and has told all. "

"Yes, " added Sir Edmund; "and poor Oakshott managed to say, 'Tellher she need keep nothing back. It is all up. '"

So Anne answered all the questions put to her, and they were thefewer both out of consideration for her condition, and because thegovernor wanted to take advantage of the tide to embark on theMedina. 

In a very few hours the Archfields would have no more fears. Annelonged to go with Sir Edmund, but she was in no state for a ride, and could not be a drag. Sir Edmund said that either his wife wouldcome to her at once and take her to Parkhurst, or else her unclewould be sure to come for her. She would be the guest of Major andMrs. Dudley, who lived in the castle, the actual Lord Warden onlyvisiting it from time to time; and though Major Dudley was a sternman, both were very kind to her. 

As a Whig, Major Dudley knew the Oakshott family, and was willing toextend his hospitality even to the long-lost Peregrine. The LordWarden, who was evidently very favourably impressed, saying thatthere was no need at present to treat him as a prisoner, but thatevery attention should be paid to him, as indeed he was evidently adying man. Burford and another of his associates were to be carriedoff, handcuffed, with the escort to Winchester jail, but before thedeparture, the soldiers who had been sent to the Chine returnedbaffled; the place was entirely deserted, and Barclay had escaped. 

Anne allowed herself to be put to bed, being indeed completelyexhausted, and scarcely able to think of anything but the oneblessed certainty that Charles was safe, and freed from all stigma. When, after the pain in her arm lulled enough to allow her to sleep, she had had a few hours' rest, she inquired for Peregrine, she heardthat for many hours the surgeon had been trying to extract theballs, and that they considered that the second shot had made hiscase hopeless, as it was in the body. He was so much exhausted asto be almost unconscious; but the next morning, when Anne, againstthe persuasions of her hostess, had risen and been dressed, thoughstill feeling weak and shaken, she received a message, begging herto do him the great kindness of visiting him. 

Deadly pale, almost gray, as he looked, lying so propped withpillows as to relieve his shattered shoulder, his face had a strangelook of peace, almost of relief, and he smiled at her as sheentered. He held out the hand he could use, and his first word wasof inquiry after her hurt. 

"That is nothing--it will soon be well; I wish it were the same withyou. "

"Nay, I had rather cheat the hangman. I told those doctorsyesterday that they were giving themselves and me a great deal ofuseless trouble. The villains, as I told you, could not believe weshould not betray them, and meant to make an end of us all. It'sbest as it is. My poor faithful Hans would never have had anotherhappy moment. "

"But you must be better, Peregrine, " for his voice, though low, wassteady. 

"There's no living with what I have here, " he said, laying his handon his side; "and--I dreamt of your mother last night. " With thewords there was a look of gladness exceeding. 

"Ah! the Evil Angel is gone!"

"I want your prayers that he may not come back at the last. " Then, as she clasped her hands, and her lips moved, he added, "There weresome things I could only say to you. If they don't treat my body asthat of an attainted traitor, let me lie at your mother's feet. Don't disturb the big Scot for me, but let me rest at last near her. Then tell Robin 'tis not out of want of regard for him that I havenot bequeathed Pilpignon to him, but he could do no good with aFrench estate full of Papists; and there's a poor loyal fellow, living ruined at Paris--a Catholic too--with a wife and childrenhalf starved, to whom it will do more good. "

"I meant to ask--Shall a priest be sent for? Surely Major Dudleywould consent. "

"I don't know. I have not loved such priests lately. I had ratherdie as near your mother as may be. "

"Miss Woodford, " said a voice at the door, and going to it, Annefound herself clasped in her uncle's arms. With very few words sheled him to the bedside, and the first thing he said was "God blessyou, Peregrine, for what you have done. "

Again Peregrine's face lighted up, but fell again when he was toldof the Portsmouth surgeon's arrival at the same time, saying withone of his strange looks that it was odd sort of mercy to try tocure a man for Jack Ketch, but that he should baffle them yet. 

"Do not set your mind on that, " said Dr. Woodford, "for Lord Cuttswas so much pleased with you that he would do his utmost on yourbehalf. "

"Much good that would do me, " said poor Peregrine, setting his teethas his tormentor came in. 

Meantime, in Mrs. Dudley's parlour, while that good lady wasassisting the surgeon at the dressing, Anne and her uncle exchangedinformation. Mr. Fellowes had arrived on foot at about noon, withhis servant, having only been released after two hours by atraveller, and having been deprived both of money and horses, sothat he could not proceed on his journey; besides that he had giventhe alarm about the abduction, and raised the hue and cry at thevillages on his way. There had been great distress, riding andsearching, and the knowledge had been kept from poor CharlesArchfield in his prison. Mr. Fellowes had gone on to London as soonas possible, and Dr. Woodford had just returned from a fruitlessattempt to trace his niece, when Sir Edmund Nutley and Lord Cuttsappeared, with the joyful tidings, which, however, could be hardlyunderstood. 

Nothing, Dr. Woodford said, could be more thorough than thevindication of Charles Archfield. Peregrine had fully stated thatthe young man had merely interposed to prevent the pursuit of AnneWoodford, that it was he himself who had made the first attack, andthat his opponent had been forced to fight in self-defence. LordCutts had not only shown his affidavit to Sir Philip, but had paid avisit to the Colonel himself in his prison, had complimented himhighly on his services in the Imperial army, only regretting thatthey had not been on behalf of his own country, and had assured himof equal, if not superior rank, in the British army if he would joinit on the liberation that he might reckon upon in the course of avery few days. 

"How did you work on the unhappy young man to bring about thisblessed change?" asked the Doctor. 

"Oh, sir, I do not think it was myself. It was first the mercy ofthe Almighty, and then my blessed mother's holy memory working onhim, revived by the sight of myself. I cannot describe to you howgentle, and courteous, and respectful he was to me all along, thoughI am sure those dreadful men mocked at him for it. Do you knowwhether his father has heard?"

"Robert Oakshott is gone in search of him. He had set off to beatup the country, good old man, to obtain signatures to the petitionin favour of our prisoner, and Robert expected to find him with Mr. Chute at the Vine. It is much to that young man's credit, niece, hewas so eager to see his brother that he longed to come with mehimself; but he thought that the shock to his father would be sogreat that he ought to bear the tidings himself. And what do youthink his good wife is about? Perhaps you did not know that SedleyArchfield brought away jail fever with him, and Mrs. Oakshott, feeling that she was the cause by her hasty action, has takenlodgings for him in Winchester, and is nursing him like a sister. No. You need not fear for your colonel, my dear maid. Sedleycaught the infection because he neither was, nor wished to be, secluded from the rest of the prisoners, some of whom were, I fear, only too congenial society to him. But now tell me the story ofyour own deliverance, which seems to me nothing short ofmiraculous. "

The visit of the Portsmouth surgeon only confirmed Peregrine's ownimpression that it was impossible that he should live, and he wasonly surviving by the strong vitality in his little, spare, wiryframe. Dr. Woodford, after hearing Anne's story, thought it well toask him whether he would prefer the ministrations of a RomanCatholic priest; but whether justly or unjustly, Peregrine seemed toimpute to that Church the failure to exorcise the malignant spiritwhich had led him to far worse aberrations than he had confessed toAnne. Though by no means deficient in knowledge or controversiantheology, as Dr. Woodford soon found in conversation with him, hisreal convictions were all as to what personally affected him, andhis strong Protestant ingrain education, however he might havedisavowed it, no doubt had affected his point of view. He hadadmired and been strongly influenced by the sight of real devotionand holiness, though as his temptations and hatred of monotonyrecurred, he had more than once swung back again. Then, however, hehad been revolted by the perception of the concessions to popularsuperstition and the morality of a wicked state of society. Hisreal sense of any religion had been infused by Mrs. Woodford, and toher belongings, and the faith they involved, he was clinging inthese last days. 

Dr. Woodford could not but be glad that thus it was, not only on thepenitent's own account, but on that of the father, who might havelost the comfort of finding him truly repentant in the shock offinding a Popish priest at his bedside. And indeed the contritionseemed to have gathered force in many a past fit of remorse, and nowwas deep but not unhopeful. 

In the evening the father and brother arrived. The Major was now anold man, hale indeed, and with the beauty that a pure, self-restrained life often sheds on an aged man. He was much shaken, andwhen he came in, with his own white hair on his shoulders, andactually tears in his eyes, the look that passed between them waslike nothing but the spirit of the parable so often, but never toooften, repeated. 

Peregrine, who never perhaps had spent a happy or fearless hour withhim, and had dreaded his coming, felt probably for the first timethe mysterious sense of home and peace given by the presence ofthose between whom there is the tie of blood. Not many wordspassed; he was hardly in a state for them, but from that time, hewas never so happy as when his father and brother were beside him;and they seldom left him, the Major sitting day and night by hispillow attending to his wants, or saying words of prayer. 

The old man had become much softened, by nothing more perhaps thanwatching the way in which his daughter-in-law dealt with themanifestations of the Oakshott imp nature in her eldest child. 

"If I had understood, " he said to Dr. Woodford. "If I had sotreated that poor boy, never would he have been as he is now. "

"You acted according to your conscience. "

"Ah, sir! a man does not grow old without learning that theconscience may be blinded, above all by the spirit of opposition andparty. "

"I will not say there were no mistakes, " said the Doctor; "and yet, sir, the high standard, sound principle, and strong faith he learntfrom you and your example have prevailed to bear him through. "

The Major answered with a groan, but added, "And yet, even now, stained as he tells me he is, and cut off in the flower of his age, I thank my God and his Saviour, and after Him, you and yours, that Iam happier about him than I have been these eight and twenty years. "

With no scruple, Major Oakshott threw his heart into theministrations of Dr. Woodford, which Peregrine declared kept at baythe Evil Angel who more than once seemed to his consciousness to bestriving to make him despair, while friend and father brought himback to the one hope. 

From time to time Anne visited him for a short interval, always tohis joy and gratitude. There was one visit at last which all knewwould be the final one, when she shared in his first and lastEnglish Communion. As she was about to leave him, he held her hand, and signed to her to bend down to hear him better. "If you can, letgood Father Seyton at Douai know that peace is come--the Evil Onebeaten, thanks to Him who giveth us the victory--and I thank themall there--and ask their prayers. "

"I will, I will. "

Some one at the door said, "May I come in?"

There was a sunburnt face, a head with long brown hair, a whitecoat. 

"Archfield?" asked Peregrine. "Come, send me away with pardon. "

"'Tis yours I need;" and as Charles knelt by the bed the two faces, one all health, the other gray and deathly, were close together. "You have given your life for mine, and given _her_. How shall Ithank you?"

"Make her happy. She deserves it. "

Charles clasped her hand with a look that was enough. Then with astrange smile, half sweetness, half the contortion of a mortal pang, the dying man said, "May she kiss me once?"

And when her lips had touched the cold damp brow--

"There--My fourth seven. At last! The change is come. Old--impish--evil--self left behind. At last! Thanks to Him who treadsdown Satan under our feet. Thanks! Take her away now. "

Charles took her away, scarce knowing where they went, --out into thespring sunshine, on the slopes above the turf bowling-green, wherethe captive King had beguiled his weary hours. Only then would aweand emotion let them speak, though his arm was round her, her handin his, and his first words were, as he looked at the scarf thatstill bore up her arm, "And this is what you have borne for me?"

"It is all but healed. Don't think of it. "

"I shall all my life! Poor fellow, he might well bid me deserveyou. I never can. 'Tis to you I owe all. I believe, indeed, theambassador might have claimed me, but he is so tardy that probably Ishould have been hanged long before the proper form was ready; andit would have been to exile, and with a tainted name. You have wonfor me the clearing of name and honour--home, parents and child andall, besides your sweet self. "

"And it was not me, but he whom we so despised and dreaded. Had Inot been seized, I could only have implored for you. "

"I know this, that if you had not been what you are, my boy wouldhave borne a dishonoured name, and we should never have beentogether as now. "

It was in truth their first meeting in freedom and security aslovers; but it could only be in a grave, quiet fashion, under theknowledge that he, to whom their re-union was chiefly owing, wasbreathing out the life he had sacrificed for them. Thus they onlygently and in a low voice went over their past doings and feelingsas they walked up and down together, till Dr. Woodford came in thesunset to tell them that the change so longed for had come in peace, and with a smile that told of release from the Evil Angel. 

* * * * *

Peregrine's wish was fulfilled, and he was buried in PortchesterChurchyard at Mrs. Woodford's feet. This time it was Mr. Horncastle, old as he was, who preached the funeral sermon, the InMemoriam of our forefathers; and by special desire of Major Oakshotttook for his text, 'At evening time there shall be light. ' Hespoke, sometimes in a voice broken, as much by feeling as by age, ofthe childhood blighted by a cruel superstition, and perverted, as hefreely made confession, by discipline without comprehension, becauseno confidence had been sought. Then ensued a tribute of earnest, generous justice to her who had done her best to undo the warp inthe boy's nature, and whose blessed influence the young man hadowned to the last, through all the temptations, errors, and frenziesof his life. Nor did the good man fail to make this a means oftestifying to the entire neighbourhood, who had flocked to hear him, all that might be desirable to be known respecting the conflict atPortchester, actually reading Peregrine's affidavit, as indeed wasdue to Colonel Archfield, so as to prove that this was no merepardon, though technically it had so to stand, but actual acquittal. Nor was the struggle with evil at the end forgotten, nor thesurrender alike of love and of hatred, as well as of his own life, which had been the final conquest, the decisive passing fromdarkness to light. 

It was a strange sermon according to present ideas, but not to thosewho had grown up to the semi-political preaching of the century thenin its last decade; and it filled many eyes with tears, many heartswith a deeper spirit of that charity which hopeth all things. 

* * * * *

A month later Charles Archfield and Anne Jacobina Woodford weremarried at the little parish church of Fareham. Sir Philip insistedon making it a gay and brilliant wedding, in order to demonstrate tothe neighbourhood that though the maiden had been his grandson'sgoverness, she was a welcomed and honoured acquisition to thefamily. Perhaps too he perceived the error of his middle age, whenhe contrasted that former wedding, the work of worldlyconventionality, with the present. In the first, an unformed, undeveloped lad, unable to understand his own true feelings andaffections had been passively linked to a shallow, frivolous, ill-trained creature, utterly incapable of growing into a helpmeet forhim; whereas the love and trust of the stately-looking pair, in thefresh bloom of manhood and womanhood, had been proved in the furnaceof trial, so that the troth they plighted had deep foundation forthe past, and bright hope for the future. 

Nor was anybody more joyous than little Philip, winning his Nana fora better mother to him than his own could ever have been

It was in a blue velvet coat that Colonel Archfield was married. Hehad resigned his Austrian commission; and though the 'Salamander, 'was empowered to offer him an excellent staff appointment in theEnglish army, he decided to refuse. Sir Philip showed signs ofhaving been aged and shaken by the troubles of the winter, andrequired his son's assistance in the care of his property, andlittle Philip was growing up to need a father's hand, so thatCharles came to the conclusion that there was no need to cross theold Cavalier's dislike to the new regime, nor to make his mother andwife again suffer the anxieties of knowing him on active service, while his duties lay at home. 

Sedley Archfield, after a long illness, owed recovery both in bodyand mind to Mrs. Oakshott, and by her arrangement finally obtained afresh commission in a regiment raised for the defence of thepossessions of the East India Company. And that the poor changelingwas still tenderly remembered might be proved by the fact that whenthe bells rung for Queen Anne's coronation there was one babyPeregrine at Fareham and another at Oakwood.