The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “Indeed! I should like to know who she is?” said his sister.

  “Nay, you must not question me. You will learn the secret in due time, I make no doubt.”

  “I have guessed it already,” said Beppy. “’Tis Monica Butler. I have seen Jemmy with her. She is just the girl who could induce him to join the insurrection, for she is heart and soul in the cause.”

  “You are right. Monica Butler is Jemmy’s fair enslaver. His assent was to be the price of her hand. I believe they are affianced.”

  “I hope the engagement will end well, but it does not commence auspiciously,” said Dr. Byrom. “Their creeds are different. Monica is a Roman Catholic — at least, I conclude so, since her mother belongs to that religion.”

  “Mrs. Butler is a widow, I believe?” remarked Mrs. Byrom.

  “She is widow of Captain Butler, and sister of Sir Richard Rawcliffe. Consequently, Monica is cousin to the beautiful Constance Rawcliffe. Though so well connected, Mrs. Butler is far from rich, and lives in great privacy, as you know, in Salford. She is very proud of her ancient descent, and I almost wonder she consented to Monica’s engagement to young Dawson. By-the-bye, Sir Richard Rawcliffe and his daughter are now in Manchester, and are staying at the Bull’s Head. I met Sir Richard last night. He is very anxious to obtain recruits for the prince, and tried hard to enlist Atherton Legh. The young man resisted, but he will have to go through a different ordeal to-day, for he will be exposed to the fascinations of the fair Constance. I shall be curious to learn the result.”

  “So shall I,” said Beppy, with some vivacity.

  “Do you take any interest in the young man?” asked her father.

  “I think him very handsome,” she replied, blushing. “And I think he would be a very great acquisition to the prince. But it would certainly be a pity — —”

  “That so handsome a young fellow should be executed as a rebel,” supplied the father. “I quite agree with you, Beppy, and I therefore hope he will remain firm.”

  CHAPTER IX.

  THE TWO CURATES OF ST. ANN’S.

  Just then a female servant ushered in two young divines, both of them assistant curates of St. Ann’s — the Rev. Thomas Lewthwaite and the Rev. Benjamin Nichols. Mr. Hoole, the rector of St. Ann’s, was inclined to Nonjuring principles, which he had imbibed from Dr. Deacon, and was very popular with the High Church party, but his curates were Whigs, and belonged to the Low Church, and had both preached against rebellion. Mr. Lewthwaite was a suitor to Beppy, but she did not give him much encouragement, and, indeed, rather laughed at him.

  Both the reverend gentlemen looked rather grave, and gave a description of the state of the town that brought back all Mrs. Byrom’s alarms.

  “An express has just come in,” said Mr. Lewthwaite, “bringing word that the rebels have reached Lancaster, and that Marshal Wade has turned back to Newcastle. The rebel force is estimated at seven thousand men, but other accounts affirm that it now amounts to thirty thousand and upwards.”

  “I hope the latter accounts are correct,” observed Beppy.

  “We shall certainly have the Pretender here in a couple of days,” pursued the curate.

  “Pray don’t call him the Pretender, sir,” cried Beppy. “Speak of him with proper respect as Prince Charles Edward.”

  “I can’t do that,” said Mr. Lewthwaite, “being a loyal subject of King George.”

  “Whom some people regard as a usurper,” muttered Beppy.

  “The news has thrown the whole town into consternation,” said Mr. Nichols. “Everybody is preparing for flight. Almost all the warehouses are closed. Half the shops are shut, and as Mr. Lewthwaite and myself passed through the square just now, we didn’t see half a dozen persons. Before night the place will be empty.

  “Well, we shan’t go,” said Beppy.

  “The Earl of Warrington has sent away all his plate,” pursued Mr. Nichols.

  “I have very little plate to send away,” observed Dr. Byrom. “Besides, I am not afraid of being plundered.”

  “You may not feel quite so secure, sir, when I tell you that the magistrates have thrown open the doors of the House of Correction,” said Mr. Nichols.

  “Very considerate of them, indeed,” said Dr. Byrom. “The townspeople will appreciate their attention. Have you any more agreeable intelligence?”

  “Yes; the postmaster has started for London this morning to stop any further remittances from the bankers, lest the money should fall into the hands of the rebels.”

  “That looks as if the authorities were becoming really alarmed,” observed Edward Byrom.

  “They are rather late in bestirring themselves,” said Mr. Nichols. “The boroughreeve and constables have learnt that a good deal of unlawful recruiting for the Pretender has been going on under their very noses, and are determined to put an end to it. Colonel Townley would have been arrested last night if he had not saved himself by a hasty departure. But I understand that an important arrest will be made this morning.”

  “An arrest! — of whom?” inquired Dr. Byrom, uneasily.

  “I can’t tell you precisely, sir,” replied Mr. Nichols. “But the person is a Jacobite gentleman of some consequence, who has only just arrived in Manchester.”

  “It must be Sir Richard Rawcliffe,” mentally ejaculated Dr. Byrom. “I must warn him of his danger without delay. Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, “I have just recollected an appointment. I fear I shall be rather late.”

  And he was hurrying out of the room, but before he could reach the door, it was opened by the servant, and Atherton Legh came in.

  Under the circumstances the interruption was vexatious, but quickly recovering from the confusion into which he was thrown, the doctor exclaimed, “You are the person I wanted to see.”

  Seizing the young man’s arm, he led him to a small adjoining room that served as a study.

  “You will think my conduct strange,” he said, “but there is no time for explanation. Will you take a message from me to Sir Richard Rawcliffe?”

  “Willingly,” replied Atherton, “I was going to him after I had said a few words to you.”

  “Our conference must be postponed,” said the doctor.

  He then sat down and tracing a few hasty lines on a sheet of paper, directed and sealed the note, and gave it to Atherton.

  “Take this to Sir Richard, without loss of time,” he said. “You will render him an important service.”

  “I shall be very glad to serve him,” replied the young man. “But may I not know the nature of my mission?”

  “Be satisfied that it is important,” said the doctor. “I shall see you again later on. Perhaps Sir Richard may have a message to send to me.”

  Dr. Byrom then conducted the young man to the hall-door, and let him out himself; after which he returned to the study, not caring to go back to the drawing-room.

  Great was Beppy’s disappointment that Atherton was carried off so suddenly by her father; but she had some suspicion of the truth. As to the two curates, they thought the doctor’s conduct rather singular, but forebore to make any remarks.

  CHAPTER X.

  CONSTANCE RAWCLIFFE.

  On quitting Dr. Byrom’s house, Atherton proceeded quickly along Old Mill Gate towards the market-place.

  This street, one of the oldest and busiest in the town, presented a very unwonted appearance — several of the shops being shut, while carts half-filled with goods were standing at the doors, showing that the owners were removing their property.

  Very little business seemed to be going on, and there were some symptoms of a disturbance, for a band of rough-looking fellows, armed with bludgeons, was marching along the street, and pushing decent people from the narrow footway.

  In the market-place several groups were collected, eagerly discussing the news; and at the doors of the Exchange, then newly erected, a few merchants were assembled, but they all had an anxious look, and did not seem to be engaged on business.

  Exce
pt the Exchange, to which we have just adverted, there was not a modern building near the market-place. All the habitations were old, and constructed of timber and plaster. In the midst of these, on the left, stood the Bull’s Head. The old inn ran back to a considerable distance, and possessed a court-yard large enough to hold three or four post-chaises and an occasional stage-coach.

  Entering the court-yard, Atherton sought out Diggles, the landlord, and inquired for Sir Richard Rawcliffe, but, to his great disappointment, learnt that the baronet had just gone out.

  “That is unlucky,” cried the young man. “I have an important communication for him.”

  “He will be back presently,” said the landlord. “But perhaps Miss Rawcliffe will see you. She is within. Her cousin, Miss Butler, is with her.”

  Atherton assented to this proposition, and was conducted by the host to a room on the first floor, and evidently situated in the front part of the house.

  Tapping at the door Diggles went in, and almost immediately returned to say that Miss Rawcliffe would be happy to receive Mr. Atherton Legh.

  Atherton was then ushered into the presence of two young ladies — one of whom rose on his appearance and received him very courteously.

  Could he believe his eyes? Yes! it must be the fair creature he had seen on the previous night, who had made such a powerful impression upon him. But if he had thought her beautiful then, how much more exquisite did she appear now that her charming features could be fully distinguished.

  While bowing to the other young lady, whose name he had learnt from the landlord, he felt equally sure that she had been Miss Rawcliffe’s companion on the previous night.

  Monica Butler offered a strong contrast to her cousin — the one being a brunette and the other a blonde. But each was charming in her way — each set off the other. Constance’s eyes were dark as night, and her tresses of corresponding hue; while Monica’s eyes were tender and blue as a summer sky, and her locks fleecy as a summer cloud.

  “I see you recognise us, Mr. Atherton Legh,” said Miss Rawcliffe, smiling. “It would be useless, therefore, to attempt any disguise. My cousin, Monica Butler, and myself were talking to Colonel Townley when you came up last night. He would fain have presented you to us, but I would not allow him, for I did not think it quite proper that an introduction should take place under such peculiar circumstances. As you may naturally wonder why two young damsels should be abroad so late, I will explain. Wishing to have Monica’s company during my stay at this inn, I went to fetch her, escorted by your friend Jemmy Dawson. As we were coming back, we accidentally encountered Colonel Townley near the Cross. All the rest you know.”

  “I am very agreeably surprised,” said Atherton. “I have been dying to know who you both were, for Colonel Townley refused to gratify my curiosity.”

  “I am glad to find he obeyed my orders,” observed Miss Rawcliffe, smiling. “At that time I did not imagine I should ever see you again. But this morning papa told me he had made an appointment with you at noon. I ought to apologise for his absence — but you are rather before your time.”

  “’Tis I who ought to apologise,” said Atherton. “But I am the bearer of a note to Sir Richard,” he added, handing it to her. “’Tis from Dr. Byrom, and I believe it contains matter of urgent importance. At all events, Dr. Byrom requested me to deliver it without delay.”

  “I hope it contains good news,” said Constance. “Pray take a seat. You must please to await papa’s return. He much wishes to see you; and I may tell you he hopes to induce you to join the prince’s army. We are all ardent Jacobites, as you know, and anxious to obtain recruits. If I had any influence with you I would urge you to enrol yourself in Colonel Townley’s regiment. Jemmy Dawson has just joined. Why not follow his example?”

  “I have already explained to Colonel Townley why it is impossible for me to comply with his request.”

  “Your reasons have been mentioned to me, but I confess I do not see their force. Jemmy Dawson has not been swayed by such feelings, but has risked his father’s displeasure to serve the prince. He did not hesitate when told that a young lady’s hand would be the reward of his compliance with her request.”

  “Till this moment I did not know why Jemmy had joined, having heard him express indifference to the cause. May I venture to ask the name of the fair temptress?”

  “Excuse me. You will learn the secret in due time.”

  “He shall learn it now,” interposed Monica. “I do not blush to own that I am the temptress. I am proud of my Jemmy’s devotion — proud, also, of having gained the prince so important a recruit.”

  “You may well be proud of Jemmy, Monica,” said Constance. “He has many noble qualities and cannot fail to distinguish himself.”

  “He is as brave as he is gentle,” said Monica— “a veritable preux et hardi chevalier, and will live or die like a hero.”

  “You are an enthusiastic girl,” said Constance.

  “In my place you would be just as enthusiastic, Constance,” rejoined the other.

  Atherton listened with a beating heart to this discourse, which was well calculated to stir his feelings.

  Just then, however, an interruption was offered by the entrance of Sir Richard Rawcliffe.

  “Very glad to see you, sir,” cried the baronet, shaking hands with Atherton. “I perceive you have already made the acquaintance of my daughter and her cousin, Miss Butler, so I needn’t introduce you. Are you aware that my niece is engaged to your friend, Jemmy Dawson?”

  “Yes, Mr. Atherton Legh knows all about it, papa,” said Constance. “He has brought you a letter from Dr. Byrom,” she added, giving it to him.

  “Excuse me,” said Sir Richard, opening the note.

  As he hastily scanned its contents, his countenance fell.

  “Has something gone wrong, papa?” cried Constance, uneasily.

  “I am threatened with arrest for treasonable practices,” replied Sir Richard. “Dr. Byrom counsels immediate flight, or concealment. But where am I to fly? — where conceal myself?” he added, looking quite bewildered.

  “You had better leave the inn at once, papa,” said Constance, who, though greatly alarmed, had not lost her presence of mind.

  At this moment, a noise was heard outside that increased the uneasiness of the party.

  CHAPTER XI.

  THE BOROUGHREEVE OF MANCHESTER.

  Situated in the front of the house, the room commanded the market-place. Atherton rushed to the window to ascertain what was taking place, and was followed by the baronet.

  “Do not show yourself, Sir Richard,” cried the young man, motioning him to keep back. “The chief magistrates are outside — Mr. Fielden, the boroughreeve, and Mr. Walley and Mr. Fowden, the constables. They have a posse of peace-officers with them.”

  “They are come to arrest me!” exclaimed Sir Richard.

  “Save yourself, papa! — save yourself!” cried Constance. “Not a moment is to be lost.”

  Her exhortations were seconded by Monica and Atherton, but Sir Richard did not move, and looked quite stupefied.

  “’Tis too late!” cried Atherton. “I hear them on the stairs.”

  As he spoke the door burst open, and Diggles rushed in — his looks betokening great alarm.

  “The magistrates are here, Sir Richard, and their purpose is to arrest you. Flight is impossible. Every exit from the house is guarded. I could not warn you before.”

  “If you have any letters or papers that might compromise you, papa, give them to me,” said Constance.

  Sir Richard hesitated for a moment, and then produced a packet, saying, as he gave it to her, “I confide this to you. Take every care of it.”

  She had just concealed the packet when the magistrates entered the room. The officers who followed them stationed themselves outside the door.

  Mr. John Fielden, the boroughreeve, who preceded the two constables, was a man of very gentleman-like appearance and deportment. After saluting the baronet, w
ho advanced a few steps to meet him, he said, in accents that were not devoid of sympathy —

  “I have a very unpleasant duty to discharge, Sir Richard, but I must fulfil it. In the king’s name I arrest you for treasonable practices.”

  “Of what treasonable practices am I accused, sir?” demanded the baronet, who had now gained his composure.

  “You are charged with wickedly and traitorously conspiring to change and subvert the rule and government of this kingdom; with seeking to depose our sovereign lord the king of his title, honour, and royal state; and with seeking to raise and exalt the person pretending to be, and taking upon himself the style and title of King of England, by the name of James the Third, to the imperial rule and government of this kingdom.”

  “What more, sir?” said Sir Richard.

  “You are charged with falsely and traitorously inciting certain of his Majesty’s faithful subjects to rebellion; and with striving to raise recruits for the son of the Popish Pretender to the throne, who is now waging war against his Majesty King George the Second.”

  “I deny the charges,” rejoined the baronet, sternly.

  “I trust you can disprove them, Sir Richard,” said the boroughreeve. “To-morrow your examination will take place, and, in the meantime, you will be lodged in the Old Bailey.”

  “Lodged in a prison!” exclaimed Constance, indignantly.

  “It must be,” said the boroughreeve. “I have no option. But I promise you Sir Richard shall undergo no hardship. His imprisonment, I hope, may be brief.”

  “I thank you for your consideration, sir,” said the baronet. “May I be allowed a few minutes to prepare?”

  “I am sorry I cannot grant the request, Sir Richard.”

  “Then farewell, my dear child! — farewell, Monica!” cried the baronet, tenderly embracing them. “My captivity will not be long,” he added, in a low voice to his daughter. “I shall be set at liberty on the prince’s arrival — if not before.”