The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  He then returned to the ladies, and proposed a walk in the garden, to which they delightedly assented.

  CHAPTER VII

  The Proposal

  THE gardens at Dilston, though somewhat formally laid out, as previously mentioned, were very beautiful, and were just then in perfection. The prince admired them very much, and of course everybody else was enchanted.

  After wandering about for some time — now stopping to look at one object, now at another — the prince walked on with Lady Webb, and the party began to disperse, moving about in different directions.

  Somehow or other, Lord Derwentwater found himself alone with Anna. He looked about for Dorothy, but she was a long way off with Charles Radclyffe, and no one was near them.

  Close to where they stood was a rustic bench, shaded by a tree, and saying she felt a little fatigued, Anna sat down. Lord Derwentwater could not do otherwise than take a place beside her.

  We will not say what thoughts agitated her breast, but she felt that the critical moment had arrived, and trembled lest any interruption should occur before the word was uttered that might decide her fate.

  She did not look at the lovely parterre of flowers before her — nor listen to the plashing of the fountain — she heard nothing — saw nothing. But the accents she longed for were not breathed, and Lord Derwentwater remained silent. Why did he not speak?

  Fearing the moment might pass, she raised her magnificent eyes, which had been thrown upon the ground, and fixed them full upon him.

  Though he spoke not, he had been watching her, and the glance he now encountered pierced his breast. How much was conveyed in that long, passionate look! How eloquent was the earl’s reply! An instantaneous revelation was made to each of the state of the other’s heart. No longer any doubt. He knew she loved him. She felt he was won.

  Yet, as if to make assurance doubly sure, he took her hand. She did not withdraw it, and still gazing tenderly at her, he said in a low voice, but which was distinctly audible:

  “Can you love me, Anna?”

  Her glance became even more passionate, as she answered:

  “I can — I do.”

  “Will you be mine, then?” demanded the earl, passing his arm round her waist, and drawing her towards him.

  Her reply must have been in the affirmative, yet it was almost stifled by the kiss imprinted on her lips.

  He had only just released her from this fond embrace, when they became conscious that they were not unobserved.

  So engrossed were they by each other that they had not hitherto noticed the prince and Lady Webb on the further side of the lawn.

  Lord Derwentwater, in a moment, decided on the course he ought to pursue.

  “Come with me,” he said to Anna.

  And taking her hand, he led her towards her mother, whose feelings of pride and satisfaction may be easily imagined when the announcement was made, and her consent asked to their union.

  But it was asked in a manner that does not belong to the present age, and her consent was given with equal formality, and accompanied by a blessing.

  As they arose from their half-kneeling posture, the prince embraced the earl, and said to him:

  “Accept my sincere congratulations, cousin. Lovelier bride you could not have found, and in every other respect she is worthy of you. And you, fair damsel,” he added to Anna, who blushed deeply at the high compliments paid her, “you may likewise be heartily congratulated on your good fortune. You have won a husband as noble by nature as he is by birth. All happiness attend you!”

  These gracious observations produced a strong effect on the young pair to whom they were addressed.

  The prince did not, however, tarry for their thanks, but hastened away, saying he desired to be first to communicate the joyful intelligence to Sir John Webb.

  The rest of the party were assembled on the terrace, and when they saw the prince approaching, and noticed the peculiar expression of his countenance, some suspicion of the truth crossed them.

  Sir John, therefore, was not surprised, though secretly enchanted, when a sign was given them to come forward, and on obeying it, he learnt from his highness’s lips what had occurred. He did not attempt to disguise his satisfaction, and his loud exclamations soon let the rest of the party into the secret.

  That the news was perfectly agreeable to all the others cannot be asserted. The hopes of Tom Forster and his charming sister were annihilated. But since the blow had fallen, it must be borne. So they concealed their disappointment with a smile.

  We are not quite sure that Charles Radclyffe was anxious that the earl should marry, as his own position in the house might be changed by the event — but at all events, he looked pleased. And Father Norman, who had an almost paternal affection for his noble patron, was certainly pleased, for he believed Lord Derwentwater had taken a wise step.

  Sir John Webb, who had been made the happiest of men by the success of his wife’s scheme, hurried off to embrace his daughter and the earl, and give them his blessing, and all the others followed to witness the scene.

  Again certain painful feelings were stirred in the breasts of Forster and his sister, but these were controlled, and all went off very well.

  A proposition was next made by the prince, that met with ready acceptance from all concerned. It was that the earl and his chosen bride should be solemnly contracted together on the morrow.

  “Lord Derwentwater and myself were brought up together like brothers,” he said. “Long ago, I promised to find him a wife. He has now found one for himself, and I entirely approve his choice. Since I can scarce hope to be present at his lordship’s marriage, it will be specially agreeable to me to witness his betrothal.”

  This intimation was quite sufficient, and it was arranged that the ceremony should be performed by Father Norman, and should take place, next morning, in the little chapel.

  CHAPTER VIII

  Colonel Oxburgh and his Companions

  MEANWHILE, another arrival had taken place at the castle.

  A party of horsemen, all well mounted, and well armed, rode into the court- yard, and claimed the earl’s hospitality, which could not be refused.

  The party consisted of half a dozen Roman Catholic gentlemen — staunch Jacobites — who had banded together, and were in the habit of riding about the country to see how matters stood — sometimes stopping at one house, sometimes at another — and always heartily welcome, wherever they went.

  The leader of the party was Colonel Oxburgh, who had fought and distinguished himself under James the Second. His companions were Captain Nicholas Wogan, Charles Wogan, and three other Jacobite gentlemen, named Talbot, Clifton, and Beaumont. They had pistols in their holsters, and swords at the side, and presented a very formidable appearance, as they rode together.

  Colonel Oxburgh was an elderly man, but in possession of all his energies, and expected a command, if a rising should take place in favour of James the Third. He was tall and well-built, and though equipped in a plain riding-suit, had an unmistakable military air.

  His companions were very much younger, and all of them looked like gentlemen — as indeed they were — the most noticeable being the two Wogans. Both of these young men were very good-looking, and graceful in figure. Captain Wogan had a very interesting countenance. As they had no servants with them, each carried a small valise attached to his saddle.

  Colonel Oxburgh was an old friend of Sir John Webb — indeed, they had served together in Ireland — and wishing to see him before he left the North, he was proceeding to Bamborough Castle with that object, when he learnt that Sir John and his family had just taken their departure, but meant to halt at Dilston. Thereupon, the colonel changed his course, and went to the latter place.

  On his arrival, his first inquiries were whether Sir John was there, and being quickly satisfied on this point by Newbiggin, he dismounted, and his companions followed his example. The horses were taken to the stables, and the bags ordered to be brought into the h
ouse, as if it had been an inn, and while this was being done, the colonel again addressed Newbiggin, and asked if there was any other company at the castle.

  The butler smiled significantly.

  “We have a very important person indeed here, colonel,” he said. “I need keep no secret from you and your friends, because you are all loyal. What will you say, gentlemen,” addressing the whole party, “when I tell you that the Chevalier de Saint George is here?”

  “I should say the statement is scarcely likely to be correct, my good friend,” rejoined the colonel, dryly. “You are jesting with us.”

  “’Tis true, I assure you, colonel,” said Newbiggin. “His majesty is at Dilston at this moment. You will soon be convinced of the fact.”

  “I am convinced now,” cried Colonel Oxburgh. “But you cannot wonder at my incredulity, and you see it was shared by all my friends. Since such is the case, gentlemen,” he added, turning to the others, “we must remain where we are for a few minutes. We must not present ourselves to the king till we learn that it is his majesty’s pleasure to receive us.”

  “I have no doubt upon the point, colonel,” said the butler; “and I will venture to take you to his majesty at once, if you will allow me.”

  The punctilious colonel, however, could not be moved from his position, nor would he enter the house, so Newbiggin was obliged to leave him and his friends in order to make the necessary announcement.

  Ere long, Lord Derwentwater appeared, and welcomed them with the utmost cordiality, stating at the same time that his majesty would be delighted to receive them.

  His lordship then conducted them to the garden, and presented them to the prince, who accorded them a most gratifying reception, shaking hands with Colonel Oxburgh, and treating him like an old friend.

  “I have often heard the king, my father, speak of you, colonel,” he said; “and always with regard. He was deeply sensible of your attachment to him.”

  “The attachment I ever felt towards his majesty is now transferred to his son,” replied the colonel, laying his hand upon his heart. “I only hope the time has come when I can prove my loyalty and devotion.”

  “We will talk of that anon, my dear colonel,” replied the prince.

  And he then addressed himself to the others, to each of whom he had something agreeable to say. His highness seemed particularly pleased with Captain Wogan.

  While this was going on, Colonel Oxburgh exchanged a greeting with Sir John Webb and Forster, nor did he omit to pay his devoirs to Lady Webb and the younger ladies.

  CHAPTER IX

  Confession

  FEELING that their presence might be some restraint upon the meeting, the ladies soon afterwards withdrew, and entered the house, accompanied by Father Norman.

  As soon as they were alone together, Lady Webb embraced her daughter with more than her customary warmth, and again congratulated her on her good fortune.

  “You are now in the most enviable position in which a girl can be placed,” she said. “You have obtained as a husband one of the richest and most powerful nobles in the land, and who, in addition to these recommendations, has youth, good looks, and extreme amiability. Could you desire more?”

  “No, dearest mamma,” she replied. “I ought to be grateful, and I am grateful. I do not deserve so much. I ought to return thanks to Heaven for its great goodness towards me. I should like to see Father Norman alone.”

  “I entirely approve of your resolution, my dear child,” replied her mother. “Remain here. I will send the holy father to you.”

  She then left her, and the interval between her departure, and the good priest’s appearance, was passed in prayer.

  Father Norman found her on her knees before a small image of the Blessed Virgin, which was in the room, and did not interrupt her.

  When she arose, he expressed his great satisfaction at finding her thus employed.

  “I am now certain his lordship has chosen well,” he said.

  “I hope he will never regret the step he has taken, father,” she rejoined.

  “Strive earnestly to make him happy, dear daughter, and you cannot fail,” said the priest. “Have you aught to say to me?”

  “I desire to disburden my conscience father,” she replied. “I have not much upon it, but I shall feel easier when I have spoken.”

  “You will do well, daughter,” he said.

  He then sat down, and she knelt beside him, and cleared her breast of all that weighed upon it.

  It was not more than many a maiden would have to avow, but the good father was strict, and imposed a slight penance upon her.

  “You must debar yourself from the society of him you love till to-morrow,” he said.

  She uttered an exclamation, but the priest went on:

  “For the rest of the day you must remain in the seclusion of this chamber, so that your thoughts may be undisturbed. Part of the night must be passed in vigil and prayer. This will be a fitting preparation for the ceremony you are about to go through.”

  “What will Lord Derwentwater think, father?” she asked, uneasily.

  “I will take care he receives such explanation as may be necessary,” he replied. “But I again enjoin solitude and reflection. Later on, I will take you to the chapel, where your vigils must be kept till midnight. Promise me not to quit this room, without my sanction.”

  “I will obey you, father,” she rejoined.

  CHAPTER X

  A Banquet

  A GRAND dinner was given that day in the great banqueting- hall of the castle, at which the prince and all the guests assisted with the exception of her, whom the noble host would have preferred to all the others. Being told by Lady Webb that her daughter was rather overcome by the excitement of the morning, and deemed it best to keep her room, he submitted to the disappointment with the best grace he could.

  The dinner was magnificent, though little time had been allowed for its preparation. Still, with the resources at Lord Derwentwater’s command, a great deal can be accomplished. The prince sat on the right of the earl, and on his lordship’s left was placed Lady Webb. Next to her ladyship was Colonel Oxburgh, and next to the prince, on the right, was Sir John Webb. Then came the Squire of Bamborough. We cannot record how the rest of the company was placed, but we must mention that the fair Dorothy was not very far from Charles Radclyffe, who sat at the foot of the table. Undoubtedly, the party lacked its chief attraction — at least in the eyes of Lord Derwentwater — but he was so much occupied by the prince that he had not much time to think of the fair absentee; and besides, Lady Webb assured him that there was not the slightest cause for uneasiness.

  The Chevalier de Saint George was in high spirits. No contretemps of any kind had occurred since his arrival at Dilston. All the guests were devoted to his cause, and some of them were his warmest partisans. Of the attachment of Sir John Webb and Colonel Oxburgh, he had no doubt. Of Forster’s loyalty he was not quite so sure, and he therefore paid him particular attention. But he had a gracious word for every one, and not a single person present could complain that the prince had overlooked him. Moreover, his highness took care to make it understood that he desired his presence should be no restraint to the company.

  The dinner therefore passed off admirably, and as the wine was not stinted, and bumpers were quaffed according to the good old custom, the enthusiasm of the guests rose to a very high pitch, and could scarcely be repressed. But it soon found vent when the cloth was drawn, and glasses were filled to the brim. The noble host arose, and with him rose every guest — save one — and the hall rang with shouts of “Long live King James the Third.”

  Lady Webb and Dorothy then disappeared, and all the servants having left the room, except Newbiggin, whose discretion could be relied on, some serious discussion took place.

  As yet the prince had not made known his design of seeking an interview with the queen, his sister; and it was now, at his highness’s request, disclosed by Lord Derwentwater. A deep silence ensued.r />
  “It appears that you do not approve my plan, gentlemen,” remarked the prince, after a short pause.

  “My liege,” replied Colonel Oxburgh, answering for the others, “we all hoped and believed that you were come to call us to arms, and we cannot conceal our disappointment when we find that, instead of making a determined attempt to recover the throne, which we are persuaded would be successful, your majesty is about to appeal to the queen, who has no sympathy or affection for you, and is hostile to our religion. Rest assured, the attempt will be useless, if it does not lead to other ill consequences. Abandon it, therefore, I pray you. On the other hand, there is every reason to believe that an insurrection in your majesty’s favour would be attended with success. That we are fully prepared for it, I will not assert. But a very short time will enable us to get ready a sufficient force to march towards London, and we shall gather strength as we go on. None can be better acquainted with the feeling of the country than myself and my friends, who have visited the houses of half the Jacobites and High Church Tories in the North of England, and I can state positively that a rising would be hailed by many influential persons with the greatest enthusiasm. Should your majesty decide on leading the army in person — as I trust you will — thousands will flock to your standard, and you will find yourself resistless as well from the number of your followers as from the justice of your cause. That your majesty is the rightful King of England cannot be denied. Why then allow the crown to be kept from you — even for a day? Do not sue for it, but demand it; and if it be refused, take it!”

  The exclamations that arose from the company made it evident that they all agreed with the speaker. But though stirred by the colonel’s energetic language, the prince was not to be turned from his purpose.

  “I have already explained to Lord Derwentwater my reasons for the course I am about to pursue,” he said. “Like yourselves he has endeavoured to dissuade me from my design — but ineffectually. I propose to set out for London tomorrow, or next day, at the latest — and his lordship will accompany me.”