Title: Preston Fight; or, The Insurrection of 1715
Author: Ainsworth, William Harrison
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.


*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Preston Fight; or, The Insurrection of 1715" ***


PRESTON FIGHT, or THE INSURRECTION OF 1715

By William Harrison Ainsworth

Author of “The Tower of London"=

````My Lord Denventwater he did swear,

````If that Proud Preston he came near,

````Ere the Right should starve, and the Wrong shall stand,

````He would drive them into some foreign land.

``````_Old Lancashire Ballad._=

London

George Routledge And Sons

WILLIAM FRANCIS AINSWORTH, ESQ,

Ph.D., F.S.A., F.R.G.S.,

Etc., Etc.

|The details of Preston Fight, given in the tale, which I have the
gratification of inscribing to your name, may be new to you; inasmuch
as you may not have seen DOCTOR Hibbert Ware’s very curious historical
collections relative to the great Jacobite movement of 1715, published
several years ago by the Chetham Society, from which my materials have
been derived.

But I am sure you will share my feelings of sympathy with the many
gallant Roman Catholic gentlemen, who, from mistaken feelings of
loyalty, threw away life and fortune at Preston; and you cannot fail to
be struck with admiration at the masterly defence of the town made by
Brigadier Mackintosh--the real hero of Preston Fight.

I hope I may have succeeded in giving you some idea of that valorous
Highland commander.

Nothing can be better than the description of him given in the old
Lancashire ballad:=

````"Mackintosh is a soldier brave,

````And of his friends he took his leave;

````Unto Northumberland he drew,

````And marched along with a jovial crew."=

What a contrast to the brave brigadier is General Forster, by whose
incompetency, or treachery, Preston was lost!--as the same old ballad
says:=

```"'Thou Forster hast brought us from our own home,

```Leaving our estates for others to come;

```Thou treacherous dog, thou hast us betrayed,’

```My Lord Derwentwater thus fiercely said."=

But the hero of my tale is the ill-fated Earl of Derwentwater--by far
the most striking figure in the Northumbrian insurrection.

The portrait I have given of him I believe to be in the main correct,
though coloured for the purposes of the story. Young, handsome,
chivalrous, wealthy, Lord Derwentwater was loyal and devoted to him whom
he believed his rightful and lawful sovereign.

His death was consistent with his life. On the scaffold he declared, “I
intended wrong to none, but to serve my king and country, and without
self-interest, hoping by the example I gave to induce others to do their
duty."=

```"My Lord Derwentwater he is dead,

```And from his body they took his head;

```But Mackintosh and the rest are fled

```To fit his hat on another man’s head."=

Lord Derwentwater was strongly attached to his ancestral mansion,
and deeply mourned by his tenants and retainers. In the “Farewell to
Dilston,” by Surtees, he is made to say:=

```"Farewell to pleasant Dilston Hall.

````My father’s ancient seat;

```A stranger now must call thee his,

````Which gars my heart to greet.=

```"Albeit that here in London Tower,

````It is my fate to die,

```O, carry me to Northumberland,

````In my father’s grave to lie."=

How few who visit Greenwich Hospital are aware that that noble
institution, of which the country is so justly proud, has derived, for
upwards of a century and a half, the immense revenue of six thousand a
year from the ill-fated earl’s forfeited estates!

Has not this effaced the treason?

I commend his story to you.

Your affectionate cousin,

W. Harrison Ainsworth.

Little Rockley, Hurstfierpoint,

May 19, 1875.



PRESTON FIGHT.



_BOOK THE FIRST_--THE EARL OF DERWENTWATER.

[Illustration: 0014]



I.--DILSTON CASTLE.

|A SPLENDID place was Dilston Castle in Northumberland, the seat of the
young Earl of Dervventwater, in the early part of the last century.

Crowning an eminence, overlooking a most picturesque district,
approached by a long avenue of chestnut trees, and surrounded by woods,
extending to the banks of the Tyne, the mansion formed a conspicuous
object from whichever side it might be viewed.

Dilston Castle could not boast antiquity, having only been built some
sixty years prior to the date of our story, by Sir James Radclyffe,
subsequently created Earl of Derwentwater by James the Second, but it
occupied the site of an old Border fortress, called Devilstone--since
modified to Dilston--that had often resisted the incursions of the
Scots.

Of this stronghold, which dated back to the time of Henry the First,
only a single memorial was left, in the shape of a grey stone tower--all
the rest having been demolished.

The mansion formed a square, and enclosed a spacious court with a
fountain in the centre. The principal entrance, approached by a large
person, was inside the court, and faced a grand gateway, that terminated
the chestnut avenue.

Close by, though screened by trees, was a little chapel, wherein the
rites of Rome were performed--the Radclyffes being strict adherents to
the old religion. Hereabouts, also, stood the grey stone tower, before
alluded to, and some chambers within it were still used.

As may be supposed, from its size, the mansion contained some
magnificent apartments, and these were sumptuously furnished. Large
gardens, laid out in the formal French style, and ornamented with
terraces, flights of stone steps, statues, and fountains, added to the
attractions of the place.

Beneath the acclivity, whereon stood the castle, was a romantic and
beautiful dell, the sides of which were clothed with brushwood.
Through the midst of the ravine rushed a stream, called the Devil’s
Water--bright and clear, despite its name--that hurried on, unless
checked by a huge rock, or some other impediment, when it spread out
into a pool. In places, the glen had a weird look, and many strange
legends were connected with it.

The picturesque beauty of the spot was materially heightened by a lofty
bridge flung across the hollow, and leading from the castle to the
deer-park.

From this bridge, the stately structure, with the charming and
diversified scenery around it, could be contemplated to the greatest
advantage.

The park boasted many ancient oaks and ash-trees, and was well stocked
with deer; the neighbouring moors abounded with grouse, the smaller
streams with trout, and the Tyne with salmon. Better shooting and
fishing could not be had than at Dilston.

The noble owner of this proud mansion, and the extensive domains
attached to it, had succeeded to the title and estates on the death of
his father, the second earl, some five years previously. In addition to
Dilston, Langley Castle, and Simonburn in Northumberland he had large
estates in Cumberland, and one side of the lovely lake of Dervventwater,
from which he derived his title, belonged to him. Moreover, he had lead
mines at Alston Moor that produced a very large revenue.

Notwithstanding his immense wealth and importance in the county, the
young earl led a very retired life. As a Roman Catholic, he laboured
under disabilities that prevented him from taking part in public
affairs. But he maintained a numerous establishment, and was extremely
hospitable, and his chaplain and almoner, Father Norham, distributed a
tithe of his large income in charity.

Loyal to the sovereign he recognised, firm in the faith he professed,
devout, charitable, courteous, courageous--such was the Earl of
Derwentwater at twenty-two, when we first meet him.

The young earl’s personal appearance was extremely prepossessing. Tall,
and well-proportioned, he had finely-formed features, with blue eyes
and fair locks. He was fond of all manly exercises, a daring horseman,
a master of fence, and a good shot. Several important alliances had been
proposed to him, but he was still unmarried.

Charles Radclyffe, his only brother, and his junior by a year and
a half, resided with him at Dilston. There was a great personal
resemblance between them. Like his brother, Charles Radclyffe was an
enthusiastic Jacobite, and ready to run any risk for the restoration of
the Stuarts.

Viscount Radclyffe and Langley, as the Earl of Derwentwater was styled
in his father’s lifetime, had been brought up at the court of the exiled
monarch, James the Second, at Saint Germains, as a companion to the
young prince, James Edward, who was about his own age, and to whom he
was nearly allied by consanguinity--Lord Radclyffe’s mother being a
natural daughter of Charles the Second.

Constantly together, and sharing the same studies and the same sports,
the cousins, as they were called, became greatly attached to each other,
and no change had taken place in their sentiments when James the Second
breathed his last, dying, as those in attendance on him avouched, in the
odour of sanctity.

By the express desire of Queen Mary of Modena, Lord Radclyffe remained
at Saint Germains until after the death of William the Third, and the
accession of Anne, mixed up in the various Jacobite plots, of which that
court was then the hot-bed, until the decease of his own father in 1705,
compelled him to return to England, in order to take possession of his
estates.

On his departure the young earl renewed his professions of loyalty
and devotion to the Chevalier de Saint George, as the prince was now
designated, and promised to hold himself in constant readiness for a
summons to rise. He also took an affectionate leave of the queen, who
embraced him like a mother, and gave him her blessing.

Five years flew by, during which an attempt at invasion was made by
Chevalier de Saint George with a squadron under the command of
the renowned Forbin, but the prince was unable to disembark, and
consequently Lord Derwentwater was not called upon to join him.

Discouraged by this ill-success, and receiving no further support from
Louis the Fourteenth, the prince joined the French army under Villars,
and fought bravely at Malplaquet.

Ever since his return from Saint Germains Lord Derwentwater had resided
at Dilston. He lacked a mother’s care, for the countess had long been
dead, but he was watched over and counselled by Father Norham, an
excellent man, who had been chaplain to the late earl. In anticipation
of a sudden summons, Lord Derwentwater kept a large collection of arms
concealed in the old tower previously described. He had plenty of horses
in his stables and elsewhere, and with his servants and retainers, and
the number of miners in his employ, he could at anytime raise two or
three hundred men, and arm and equip them.

Until lately, a secret correspondence had been constantly kept up
between the Earl and the Chevalier de Saint George, but for some months
no letter had been received from the prince.



II.--THE CHEVALIER DE SAINT GEORGE.

|One morning, at this juncture, the young earl, mounted on his favourite
dapple-grey steed, rode out from the castle, and took his way down the
chestnut avenue, accompanied by his brother, Charles Radclyffe.

The two young equestrians made a very gallant appearance, being attired
in scarlet riding-coats, edged with gold lace, feathered hats, long
neckcloth, laced ruffles, and boots ascending above the knee. The grooms
wore green riding-coats laced with gold, and green velvet caps.

The earl, who was riding to Corbridge, which was not very far off,
proceeded at a leisurely pace, and occasionally halted to examine some
object in the grounds, or listen to an appeal to his charity. In the
latter case the applicant was sent on to the castle to state his case to
Father Norham.

The morning was bright and clear, and the country looked so charming
that the earl determined to extend his ride along the banks of the
Tyne as soon as his business at Corbridge was finished; but he had
not quitted the avenue when a horseman entered it, who was evidently
proceeding to the castle.

This person might be a courier, for he rode a posthorse, and was
followed by a post-boy, who carried his portmanteau; and there was
nothing in his grey riding-dress to indicate rank. He had pistols in his
girdle, and a hanger by his side. But he rode well, though provided only
with a sorry hack, and had a military bearing. In age he could not be
more than three-and-twenty, if so much. He was rather above the
middle height, and slightly built, and his features were handsome and
expressive.

On seeing the earl and his brother the stranger immediately slackened
his pace, and rode slowly towards them.

Lord Derwentwater gazed at him in astonishment, and as if he could
scarcely believe his eyes.

At length he turned to his brother and exclaimed:

“By Heaven, ‘tis he!”

“He! who?” cried Charles Radclyffe.

“The Chevalier de Saint George,” replied the earl, under his breath.

“Impossible!” said the other. “He would never come here in this manner,
and without giving us some notice of his design.”

“‘Tis the prince, I repeat,” cried Derwentwater; “I cannot be mistaken.
But the greatest caution must be observed, or the postboy’s suspicions
may be aroused.”

Next moment the stranger came up, and respectfully saluting the earl,
told him he was the bearer of an important despatch, whereupon Lord
Derwentwater invited him to the castle, and turning round, proceeded
in that direction, keeping the supposed courier near him, while Charles
Radclyffe, who had now recognised the stranger from his likeness to the
portraits of the prince, rode at a little distance behind them.

The meeting was so cleverly managed that the grooms saw nothing
extraordinary in it, and the post-boy was completely duped.

“I never had a harder task than to repress my delight at beholding
your majesty,” said Lord Derwentwater. “You have indeed taken me by
surprise.”

“Had it been possible I would have given you some intimation of my
arrival and intended visit to you,” replied the prince, “but I only
landed at Sunderland yesterday, and came on betimes this morning. Do not
imagine I am come to summon you to arms, though my partisans in Scotland
are ready to rise, and would at once join my standard were I to display
it. No, cousin, my errand is pacific.”

“Pacific!” exclaimed the earl.

“My purpose is to obtain an interview with my sister, Queen Anne; and
if I succeed, I believe no insurrection will be necessary, for I am
persuaded she will agree to appoint me her successor. You must accompany
me to London, cousin.”

“I will do whatever your majesty enjoins,” replied Lord Derwentwater,”
greatly astonished by what he heard. “But it is my duty to tell you that
you will run great risk, while I very much fear you will not accomplish
your object. Did you consult the queen, your mother, before setting out
on this expedition?”

“I did, cousin, and must frankly own that she endeavoured to dissuade
me from the attempt; for, as you are aware, her majesty deems Anne an
unnatural daughter, and destitute of all feeling for the brother whose
throne she has usurped. It may be so. Yet, cold as she is, Anne cannot
be insensible to the king, our father’s dying message, which I propose
to deliver to her.”

“Nothing will move her, sire, depend upon it,” said the earl. “Queen
Anne is so strongly opposed to the Roman Catholic religion, that unless
your majesty will consent to change your faith she will turn a deaf ear
to your entreaties.”

“We shall see,” replied the Chevalier de Saint George. “At all events, I
shall have an answer from her own lips, and shall then know how to
act. As I have just told you, the queen, my mother, strove to combat my
determination; but, finding I was not to be shaken, she entreated me to
take you with me. To this I readily agreed, as I knew I could rely on
your devotion. I embarked at Dunquerque without a single attendant, and
in this disguise, and landed yesterday at Sunderland.”

“And right glad I am to welcome your majesty to Dilston,” said the
earl. “But let me implore you to change your plans, and instead
of supplicating Queen Anne for the crown, that of right belongs to
yourself, snatch it from her brow! Should you decide thus--and I believe
it will be for the best--I will undertake, within a week, to raise a
large force--while thousands will flock to your standard in Scotland.
Your majesty will do well to weigh my proposal ere setting out on a
hazardous expedition to London. Here you have a mansion you can call
your own--servants you can command--friends at your disposal--and in a
few days you will have an army. Be advised by me, my gracious liege, and
abandon this wild scheme. Suffer me to get together your adherents.
Let me send off messengers without delay to Lord Widdring-ton, Tom
Errington, of Beaufront, John Shaftoe, Swinbourn, Charleton, Clavering,
and others in the county, to collect all their retainers.”

“But they are unprepared,” remarked the prince.

“Pardon me, my liege. The friends I have named are always prepared, and
the news that your majesty is here would rouse them all to come at
once. I ought to have added to the list Jack Hall, of Otterburn, and Tom
Forster, of Bamborough. They are High Church Tories, and will bring many
others with them.”

“No doubt they would prove an important acquisition,” said the prince.
“But I will not try to dethrone Anne till I have given her the chance
of acting fairly towards me. I am very sanguine as to the result of my
interview with her.”

“Heaven grant your majesty may not be disappointed!” rejoined Lord
Derwentwater. “I will say no more. Whenever it shall please you to set
out to London, I shall be ready to attend you.”

“I will remain here till to-morrow, cousin,” said the prince. “On some
future occasion I hope to be your guest for a longer time; but though
Dilston is a charming place, and I should like to see all its beauties,
it must not detain me now.”

They were at the end of the avenue, but, before passing through the
gateway, Lord Derwentwater said to the prince, “Your majesty had best
dismount here, and get rid of the postboy.”

On this the prince sprang from his horse, while the gate-porter, by the
earl’s directions, paid the postboy, and took the portmanteau from him.

Having received a handsome gratuity for himself, the man then departed
with his horses in tolerably good humour, though aware of the earl’s
hospitality he had hoped to be regaled in the servants’ hall.

“Meanwhile, Lord Derwentwater and his brother having alighted, the
party walked across the great quadrangular court--the prince pausing
occasionally to look around, and express his admiration.

“By my faith! cousin, you have a splendid house,” he cried. “‘Tis quite
a palace.”

“Why not take possession of it, my liege?” replied Derwentwater.

“You tempt me greatly. But no! I must not be diverted from my purpose.”

They then ascended the magnificent flight of stone steps, and entered a
spacious hall--the door being thrown open by a butler and several other
servants in the earl’s rich livery.

“Little did I dream, when I set forth an hour ago, whom I should bring
back as my guest,” observed Lord Derwentwater.

“You have often told me at Saint Germains how rejoiced you would be to
see me here,” rejoined the prince; “and now you perceive I have taken
you at your word. But you are very remiss, cousin--pray present your
brother to me!”

The presentation then took place, but without any ceremony, on account
of the servants, and the prince shook hands very heartily with Charles
Radclyffe.

Just then, an elderly personage, with silver locks that fell over his
shoulders, and wearing a priestly garb, entered the hall. It was Father
Norham, who had come to see who the earl had brought with him. The good
priest had a kindly and benevolent expression of countenance, and fixed
his keen grey eyes inquiringly on the stranger, with whose appearance he
was greatly struck.

After a few moments’ scrutiny he consulted Lord Derwentwater by a look,
and his suspicions being confirmed, he most respectfully returned the
reverence made to him by the prince.

Having given some orders to the butler, Lord Derwentwater conducted his
guest to the library which opened from the hall, and they were followed
by Charles Rad-clyffe and the priest.

Further disguise was now unnecessary, and no inquisitive observer being
present, the prince was treated by all with the respect that was his
due.

The impression of the priest and Charles Radclyffe was that he was come
to prepare a rising, and when they learnt his real design they could
scarcely conceal their disappointment. Neither of them, however,
ventured to offer a remonstrance, till Father Norham, being urged by the
prince to speak out, said:

“I fear your majesty will find the queen impracticable. Moreover, she
has already named the Elector of Hanover her successor.”

“But she may change her mind, good father.”

“Her ministers will not allow her to do so, my liege. They are resolved
upon a Protestant succession--and so is she. Renounce your religion, and
you will succeed--not otherwise.”

“I have already said as much to his majesty,” observed Lord
Derwentwater. “But he entertains a better opinion of the queen than I
do.”

“I am unwilling to believe that she will disregard her father’s dying
injunctions,” said the prince. “Bear in mind that she has never seen me.
When we meet, the voice of natural affection will make itself heard. She
will then become sensible of the great wrong she has done me, and
hasten to make atonement. She will feel that by her wicked and unnatural
conduct she has incurred Heaven’s displeasure. Her own children have
been taken from her. Other severe chastisements may follow, if not
averted. These are the arguments I shall employ.”

“And they will fail in effect, my liege, because her heart is hardened,
and she is blind to her sinfulness,” said the priest. “She would rather
sacrifice her brother than help to re-establish our religion.”

“Trust me, my liege, Father Norham has formed a just estimate of the
queen’s character,” said Lord Derwentwater. “‘Tis vain to appeal to good
feelings, where none exist.”

“But I do not believe she is so utterly devoid of natural affection as
her conduct would seem to bespeak,” said the prince. “You shall judge
from what I am about to tell you. I have solicited a private interview
with her in Saint James’s Palace, and she has granted my request.”

“Granted it!” exclaimed Lord Dervventwater in astonishment, that was
shared by the others.

“Ay,” replied the prince. “My letter was conveyed by a faithful friend,
and the answer to it was that her majesty would see me. Nothing more.
But that was all I asked. She felt compunction for her ill doing, or she
would have refused my request.”

“But how will you obtain admittance to her, my liege?” asked Lord
Derwentwater.

“Easily,” replied the prince. “The Earl of Mar will usher me into her
presence.”

“This certainly seems favourable, and alters my view of the matter,”
 said the earl. “Yet it may be a device of Harley to ensnare your
majesty. Are you certain that your letter reached the queen?”

“My emissary would not deceive me,” replied the prince. “He is as loyal
as yourself.”

“If I may speak plainly to your majesty,” remarked Charles Radclyffe, “I
would say that I have still great doubts. The queen may delude you with
false hopes to keep you quiet.”

“Nay, she will keep her promise if she makes it. Of that I am
convinced,” said Father Norham.

At this juncture the butler entered to say that luncheon was served,
upon which the earl conducted his guest to the dining-room, where a very
substantial repast awaited them.

The Chevalier de Saint George had not breakfasted, and his early
morning’s ride having given him a good appetite, he did ample justice to
the broiled trout from the Devil’s Water, and the cutlets of Tyne salmon
set before him.

As the servants were present during the repast, he was treated merely as
an ordinary visitor, and the conversation between him and the earl was
conducted entirely in French.

This circumstance excited the suspicion of Mr. Newbiggin, the butler,
who from the first had been struck by the stranger’s appearance and
manner, and he soon became convinced that Mr. Johnson, as the prince was
called, was a very important personage.

On quitting the dining-room, the butler found the earl’s chief valet in
the entrance-hall, and said to him:

“I can’t make out this Mr. Johnson, Thirlwall. I should like to know
what you think of him?”

“I’m puzzled, I own,” replied the other. “He seems to me like a
Frenchman.”

“No more a Frenchman than his lordship is, Thirlwall. But I shouldn’t
wonder,” said the butler, knowingly, “if he has been brought up at a
French court.”

“At the Court of Saint Germains?” cried Thirlwall.

“Precisely,” said the butler.

“Why, you seem to insinuate that it’s the Chevalier de Saint George in
person, Newbiggin.”

“I’ve my own idea on that point, Thirlwall,” said the butler. “If it
should turn out as I suspect, we’re on the eve of an insurrection. The
prince wouldn’t come here on a trifling errand. But keep quiet for the
present--this is mere conjecture.”

The butler then returned to the dining-room, while Mr. Thirlwall hurried
to the servants’ hall, where he retailed all he had just heard, with
some additions of his own.

In less than half-an-hour it was known among the whole household that
his majesty, King James the Third, had arrived, in disguise, at the
castle.



III.--NICHOLAS RIBBLETON.

|If any confirmation were wanted of the suspicions now generally
entertained by Mr. Newbiggin and the rest of the servants that a rising
was imminent, it was afforded by the earl, who took his guest, as soon
as luncheon was over, to see the arms stored in the old tower.

The inspection occupied some time, for three or four chambers had to
be visited, each full of muskets, calivers, pistols, cartouche-boxes,
powder-horns, shot-bags, belts, swords of various sizes and make,
hatchets, pikes, halberts, black leather caps, drums, kettle-drums,
trumpets, fifes, and other martial instruments. In a vault beneath the
basement floor were bestowed several barrels of gunpowder.

When the examination was finished, the prince expressed himself
delighted with the preparations made.

“You told me you could arm and equip two or three hundred men, cousin,”
 he said. “And I now perceive you did not exaggerate. But where are the
men?”

“I have but to ride to Alston Moor, my liege, to find them, and bring
them back with me,” said Charles Rad-clyffe.

“Men and arms are ready,” said the earl. “Shall we raise the standard?”
 he added, lifting up the flag.

At this moment, as if in response to the appeal, shouts were heard
outside, and several voices exclaimed:

“Long live King James the Third!”

“Is this premeditated, cousin?” said the prince.

“No, by my faith,” replied the earl. “But it seems your majesty’s
presence has been discovered--how I know not. Shall I send away the
troublesome varlets?”

“‘Twere needless, since the discovery has been made,” said the prince,
who did not seem much displeased.

“Your majesty need feel no uneasiness,” observed Father Norham, who
formed one of the party. “There are no traitors at Dilston. All here are
loyal, and would die rather than betray you.”

“On that assurance I shall not hesitate to show myself to them,” said
the prince. “Attend me, I pray you, cousin.”

The massive door being thrown open, a singular spectacle was seen.

In front of the tower was collected a large number of the household,
with several out-door servants--grooms, gamekeepers, huntsmen,
gardeners, and their assistants--most of them young and active-looking,
though the coachman was old and stout, and there were three or four
others, who must have lived in the family for half a century. But these
were just as enthusiastic as their comrades.

When the prince appeared another loud shout arose, and would have been
renewed had not the earl commanded silence.

“I thank you heartily, my good friends, for this manifestation of your
zeal,” said the prince. “Do not imagine, because I have come hither
in disguise, that I am afraid to trust myself with you, or, in the
slightest degree, doubt your fidelity. The Earl of Derwentwater, your
master, is my best friend, and dear to me as a brother. No one can live
with him without sharing his sentiments. I could not, therefore, have
any distrust. But I feared that in the excess of your zeal you might not
keep guard upon your tongues, and I am very desirous that my landing in
England, and arrival at Dilston, should not be known for the present.
Secrecy, as you will easily understand, is essential to the success of
my projects.”

A murmur of delight arose from the assemblage, but further shouting was
checked by Newbiggin, who, stepping forward, made a profound obeisance
to the prince, and said:

“Your majesty need fear no indiscretion on our part. I will answer for
my fellow-servants. We know the importance of our trust.”

“Ay, that we do,” cried several voices.

“I am perfectly satisfied,” said the prince; “and I shall feel easier
now that this explanation has taken place. Again accept my thanks for
your manifestation of sympathy and attachment to me. I cannot speak to
you all, but there is one among you to whom I would fain say a word.”

And he designated a tall, fine old man, standing at the back of the
assemblage.

“That is Nicholas Ribbleton, my liege,” said Newbiggin. “He lived with
his lordship’s grandfather.”

“And was much liked by him, and by my father,” added the earl. “Nicholas
Ribbleton will always have a home at Dilston.”

“Bring him to me,” said the prince.

Summoned by the butler, old Ribbleton would have thrown himself at the
prince’s feet, but the latter prevented him, and gave him his hand,
which the old man pressed devotedly to his heart.

“I never expected such an honour as this,” he said. “Your majesty is
too gracious to me. I have always been devoted to your royal house, and
shall continue so to the last. It may sound boastful when I say that
both King Charles the Second, and your august father, King James,
deigned to notice me. Long have I desired to behold your majesty, and
now the wish is gratified.” Here emotion choked his utterance for a
moment but he added, “If I live to see your majesty on the throne I
shall die content Long have we looked for your coming, but now you _are_
come, don’t turn back till you have won the victory. You have right on
your side. The crown belongs to your majesty and not to Queen Anne. If
she won’t surrender it, take it! Such is the advice that an old man, who
has spoken to the king, your father, and your royal uncle, dares to give
you. Pardon my freedom, sire!”

“I not only pardon it, but am obliged to you for speaking so freely,”
 replied the prince, in a gracious and encouraging tone. “What will you
say if Queen Anne should surrender the crown to me?”

“I shall say that a miracle has been worked,” said Ribbleton. “But
judging by her conduct, it seems very unlikely that she will act justly.
Were I your majesty, I wouldn’t trust her promises, however fair they
may be.”

“Thou art too bold, Ribbleton,” interposed Lord Derwentwater.

“Nay, I am not offended,” said the prince. “There is wisdom in the
old man’s words. I will have some further talk with you anon, my good
friend,” he added to Ribbleton, who made an obeisance, and retired
highly pleased.

At the same time Newbiggin gave a sign to the rest of the household, and
the place was quickly cleared.



IV.--THE LITTLE CHAPEL.

|Lord Derwentwater then took his royal guest to the stables, and showed
him his fine stud of horses, with which the prince was greatly pleased.
After looking over the collection, his highness made choice of a
strong hackney for his proposed journey. The earl offered him his
own dapple-grey steed, but the prince would not deprive him of his
favourite.

No precise orders were given, but two of the grooms were told that they
might have to set out for London on the morrow, and must therefore make
all needful arrangements. The men asked no questions, but promised that
his lordship’s injunctions should be attended to.

Father Norham had not accompanied the party to the stables, but
proceeded to the little chapel before alluded to, where he was joined by
the prince, and received his highness’s confession.

Mass was afterwards performed, at which most of the household
assisted--several of the female servants being present.

It was a pleasing sight to see the little place of worship on that
interesting occasion. Doubtless, many of the persons there assembled
thought more of the prince than of their devotions, but their behaviour
was extremely decorous.

The chapel was not larger than an ordinary room, and very simply
furnished. In a small oaken pew at the upper end, on the right of the
altar, sat the Chevalier de Saint George--almost concealed from view. In
a similar pew on the left were the Earl of Derwentwater and his brother.
On wooden benches behind were collected the servants--the women sitting
by themselves on the left. Many a curious eye was fixed on the prince
whenever he arose. The solemn service was admirably performed by Father
Norham.

Strange thoughts possessed Lord Derwentwater. In the family vault
beneath the chapel lay his sire and grand-sire, both of whom had been
devoted to the Stuarts. Might not their shades be hovering around?
Exceedingly superstitious, the earl thought so, and so did Charles
Radclyffe.

The congregation had dispersed--long to remember the event.

Before quitting the chapel, the prince said to the earl:

“Are not some of your family buried here, my lord?”

“My father and my grandfather,” replied the other. “And if aught could
rouse them from their slumbers it would be your majesty’s presence.”

The prince remained silent for a moment, looking very grave, and then
said:

“You will scarce credit me when I tell you that I saw--or fancied I
saw--two figures standing between me and the altar. Their mournful looks
seemed to convey a warning. I saw them only for a moment. They pointed
to you and your brother, and then disappeared. What think you of this?
Were they phantoms?”

“I know not what to think,” replied the earl. “No such appearances have
ever been beheld before, but then no prince of your royal house has ever
before knelt within this chapel. We will consult Father Norham anon.
Meantime, let me take your majesty to the garden. You must banish these
gloomy thoughts.”

A stroll through the charming gardens quickly produced the desired
effect. As yet the prince had seen nothing of the beauties of the place,
and was unacquainted with the commanding position of the castle. The
view from the terrace enchanted him, and he remained for some time
contemplating the lovely scene in silence, and then broke out into
raptures. By his own request he was next taken to the deer-park,
and halted on the bridge to look at the castle. It has already been
mentioned that this was the best point from which the stately structure
could be surveyed, and the prince was of that opinion.

“How well the castle looks as it towers above us,” he cried, “and what
a striking picture it makes, combined with this deep glen, the rushing
stream, and yonder woods, with the Tyne in the distance! You could not
have a nobler residence, cousin.”

“Undoubtedly, my liege, I ought to be content with it,” rejoined the
earl; “and so I am. Yet I must own I should prefer the old stronghold
that once stood there, and of which you have just seen a relic; and had
it not been demolished by my grandfather, Earl Francis, I would have
preserved it. Imagine how well the stern old pile must have looked,
perched on that height, and how completely it must have harmonised with
this ravine, and with the woods. Its position and strength considered,
it is not surprising that the Scottish marauders, though they often came
in force, could never take it. The fortress might have stood a siege in
our own time.”

“Very true,” replied the prince, smiling. “And on that account its
destruction may be regretted. Otherwise, the modern building is most to
my taste. I could desire nothing better.”

“I trust, ere long, Windsor Castle may be yours, my liege,” said Lord
Derwentwater; “and then you will think little of Dilston.”

“Dilston cannot vie with Windsor, that is certain, cousin. Nevertheless,
it is a splendid place, and you are fortunate in possessing it. The
mansion only wants one thing to make it perfect. You can guess what I
mean. But I will tell you plainly. A lady ought to grace it.”

“I shall wait till your majesty is restored before I take a wife,” said
the earl.

“Why wait?” said the Chevalier de Saint George. “Has no fair
Northumbrian damsel caught your eye? I am told Tom Forster’s sister,
Dorothy, is marvellously beautiful. She may not be rich, but you do not
want a dower.”

“Dorothy Forster is a very charming girl, I admit, and has many
agreeable qualities, but I never thought seriously of her.”

“Strange you should have alluded to her in one of your letters to me.”

“Your majesty reminds me that I compared her very advantageously with
her brother, who is a mere country squire, and not remarkable for wit,
whereas Dorothy is extremely lively and clever, besides being very
pretty. But I didn’t mean to intimate that I had fallen in love with
her.”

“You gave me that impression, I confess, cousin,” said the Chevalier de
Saint George. “I fully expected your next letter would tell me you were
engaged to her. Is she very young?”

“About eighteen, I fancy.”

“Just the age. And she rides well, I think you said?”

“Admirably. Tom Forster keeps the best pack of hounds in the country,
and she goes out with them.”

“I only see one objection. Her brother does not belong to our religion.”

“But she does,” rejoined the earl.

“Then you cannot do better than make choice of her.”

“Even if I were to take your majesty’s advice, it does not follow I
should be accepted.”

“Bah! the Earl of Derwentwater is not likely to be refused.”

“Dorothy Forster will wed no one she does not love. Nor would I wed her
unless certain I had won her heart.”

“Have you any doubt upon the point, cousin?”

“Your majesty is pleased to rally me.”

“I want an answer to the question.”

Just then an interruption to their discourse was offered by Charles
Radclyife, who came hurriedly down to the bridge to announce that some
visitors had arrived at the castle.

“Newbiggin couldn’t send them away, and was driven to his wit’s end, for
they would come in,” said Charles.

“Who are they?” asked the earl.

“Mr. Forster of Bamborough, and his sister,” replied Charles.

“Indeed!” exclaimed the prince. “This is a lucky chance.”

“It would have mattered little if they had been alone, my liege,” said
Charles. “Unluckily, Sir John Webb of Canford, Lady Webb, and their
daughter are with them, and the whole party evidently intend to stay
here till tomorrow. Sir John and Lady Webb have brought a great coach
with them and a pack of servants, but the two girls and Tom Forster came
on horseback. Forster wouldn’t hear a word from Newbiggen, but told him
he was sure his lordship would be glad to see them.”

“And so I should, under other circumstances,” said the earl.

“Heed me not,” cried the prince. “I am pleased at this opportunity of
meeting Mr. Forster and Sir John Webb, both of whom I know are my warm
partisans.”

“Since your majesty does not object, I feel quite easy,” said the earl.
“Where are the visitors?” he added, to his brother.

“I left them on the lawn,” replied Charles. “I told them you had a
friend with you--nothing more. Shall I prepare them, my liege!”

“No,” replied the prince. “I will chose my own time for the disclosure.”

“Haste back, then, and say I will be with them anon,” cried the earl.

“And be careful to give them no hint.”

“Your majesty may rely on me,” replied Charles, as he bowed and
departed.

“This is our North Country custom,” said the earl. “We visit each other
without the slightest ceremony--take friends with us--and stay as long
as we please. In coming to me thus, uninvited, and bringing Sir John
Webb and his family with him, Tom Forster is only doing what I should
not hesitate to do, were I inclined to pay him a visit at Bamborough
Castle.”

“I am very glad he has come, for it will give me an opportunity of
beholding the fair Dorothy,” said the prince.

“Your majesty will also behold Anna Webb, who, in my opinion, is far
more beautiful than the other.”

“Then you have seen her?” cried the prince.

“I saw her only a few days ago at Bamborough, and admired her greatly.
She is really very handsome. I think Tom Forster is _épris_. No doubt
Sir John Webb is returning to Dorsetshire with his family, and Tom
is escorting them on their journey. I dare say we shall hear of an
engagement by-and-by.”

“If she is as handsome as you describe her, Anna Webb ought not to be a
rude fox-hunter’s wife,” said the prince. “But come! let us go and have
a look at the two beauties. You have roused my curiosity.”



V.--ANNA WEBB AND DOROTHY FORSTER.

|How well the two beauties looked in their gay riding-dresses of scarlet
and blue, trimmed with gold and silver lace, and plumed hats! Slight
and graceful in figure, and nearly of an age, Anna Webb was a few months
older than Dorothy, but she could not be more than nineteen.

Dorothy had cheeks like a blush-rose, tender blue eyes, and flaxen
tresses, with features that could not be called regular, but were,
nevertheless, excessively pretty; while Anna’s locks were of a raven
hue, her eyes large, black, and lustrous, and fringed with silken
lashes, her tint pale, yet clear, and her face classically faultless in
outline.

If the palm of beauty could not be assigned to Dorothy, it must be owned
that she had a more agreeable expression than Anna, whose short curling
upper lip gave her a somewhat disdainful look.

But they were both lovely creatures, and quite enchanted the Chevalier
de Saint George, as he first beheld them standing near a marble fountain
at the edge of the large, smooth-shaven lawn near the terrace.

Close beside them was Lady Webb--a fine, stately, middle-aged dame,
richly dressed in damask, and having a hoop petticoat, long stiff
bodice, and a lofty head-dress.

She had a few patches on her face, and a large fan in her hand. Lady
Webb had a haughty manner, and did not forget that she came of a noble
family.

Sir John Webb, who paid great deference to his lady, was about sixty,
and had a marked countenance, dark eyes, and a large aquiline nose. His
bearing was soldierlike, which is not to be wondered at, since he had
served under James the Second. But there was nothing military in his
attire, which consisted of a square-cut, claret-coloured coat, richly
embroidered with lace, a laced waistcoat with long flaps, cream-coloured
silk stockings, shoes with high red heels, a long neck cloth bordered
with Brussels lace, lace ruffles at his wrist, a sword by his side,
and a well-powdered periwig on his head, surmounted by a small
three-cornered hat. He carried a gold-headed clouded cane in his hand,
and occasionally produced a very handsome gold snuff-box.

The Webbs were strict Roman Catholics, and devoted to the House of
Stuart. In fact, Sir John had followed the exiled monarch for a short
time to Saint Germains.

Tom Forster, who was talking to him, and pointing out the beauties
of the place with his riding-whip, looked exactly like what he was--a
country squire, who rode hard, lived well, and drank hard.

In age, he could not be more than seven-and-twenty, and would have
been considered very good-looking if the hue of his skin had not been
somewhat too florid. Decidedly, he was like his sister, if a rather
coarse man can be said to resemble a delicate girl. No one had better
horses than Tom Forster--not even Lord Derwentwater--no one had better
claret, and you might have plenty of it--perhaps, rather too much.

Tom Forster kept a pack of fox-hounds, and hunted regularly; and as he
was hospitable, jovial, and good-humoured, he was exceedingly popular.
Dorothy constantly rode to hounds, and was greatly admired for courage
and skill, for she often gained the brush. But, as we have endeavoured
to show, there was nothing masculine about her--nothing that could be
objected to in her liveliness. On the contrary, her presence operated as
a restraint upon her brother’s guests, and kept them within bounds.

Sir John Webb and his family had been staying for some little time at
Bamborough Castle, and had been delighted with the ancient structure,
which, whether from its situation on a lofty and almost perpendicular
rock, overlooking the Northern Ocean, or from its well-preserved walls
and square massive keep, may be justly considered one of the grandest
castles in the kingdom. Another opportunity may occur for describing it
more fully. Meantime, we may say that Anna Webb, who was of a somewhat
romantic turn, had been especially delighted with the place. She
remained for hours upon the ramparts gazing upon the sea, there studded
with islands, and had even mounted with Dorothy to the summit of the
keep, whence Lindisfarne and its ancient churches could be clearly
descried. Luckily no shipwrecks occurred at the time on that dangerous
and rock-bound coast, so that she was spared any such dreadful sight,
and no half-drowned mariners were brought for shelter to the castle.

Though Bamborough Castle belonged to Mr. Forster, he did not inhabit the
ancient structure. His residence, which was comparatively modern, was
close at hand. But several of the old towers were furnished, and in one
of these Anna and Dorothy were lodged, at the particular desire of the
former, who thus escaped the racket of a great house full of company, as
well as the attentions of the host, who had fallen in love with her,
but whom she could not tolerate. Every day there was a large party at
dinner, and at these entertainments Anna was forced to be present, but
she was always glad to get back to the quiet old tower.

One day, an important visitor unexpectedly arrived at the castle. This
was the Earl of Derwentwater. Dorothy having described him to her,
and had painted him in glowing colours, she was prepared for a very
distinguished-looking personage. But he was far handsomer than she
expected, and she was greatly struck by his manner as well as by his
personal appearance. To her surprise and mortification, however, he paid
her very little attention, and devoted himself exclusively to Dorothy,
next to whom he was placed at dinner. That evening there were cards and
music in the drawing-room. Lord Derwentwater begged of Dorothy to sing,
and she readily complied, and charmed him with a lively ditty. When she
had done, Tom Forster came up, and made his sister relinquish her place
at the harpsichord to Anna.

Piqued by Lord Derwentwater’s indifference, and really possessing a
splendid voice, Miss Webb exerted herself to the utmost. Never had she
sung or played more brilliantly than on this occasion--never had she
looked more lovely: Lord Derwentwater was electrified, and seemed
suddenly conscious of her transcendent beauty. Hitherto he had scarcely
observed her, but now she riveted his regards. Warmly applauding her
performance, he prayed her to repeat it. Instead of doing so, she struck
up a little French lay, with which he was familiar, but which he had
never before heard sung with such liveliness and spirit.

At Lady Webb’s instance, Anna gave some further proofs of her
extraordinary vocal power. Her triumph was complete. She felt sure
she had captivated the young earl, who remained by her side during the
remainder of the evening. Indeed she fully expected a proposal on the
morrow--but when the morrow came, Lord Derwentwater was gone. He had set
off at an early hour, long before she and Dorothy came from the tower.

Why had he departed so suddenly? No one could tell. Anna was greatly put
out; but she was not half so much disappointed as Lady Webb, who
thought her daughter had secured a great prize. Good-natured Dorothy had
manifested no resentment at being cut out by her friend. Tom Forster had
felt rather jealous, but as he really had received no encouragement from
Miss Webb, he could not complain.

The Webbs remained ten days longer at Bamborough Castle, and during this
time nothing was heard of Lord Derwentwater.

But Lady Webb was determined not to give him up without another effort.
So she told Tom Forster that she should like immensely to see Dilston,
and he promised to take them all there, on their return to Dorsetshire.

The plan was carried out, as we have shown. Some on horseback, some
in Sir John’s great family coach, encumbered by an immense quantity
of luggage, attended by a couple of female servants, the party left
Bamborough Castle after an early dinner, supped and slept at Morpeth,
and set out next morning for Dilston.



VI.--LADY WEBB.

|ANNA Webb, who rode a capital horse, provided for her from the
Bamborough stables, and was accompanied by Tom Forster and his sister,
was greatly struck by the view of the castle at the end of the vista
formed by the long avenue of chestnut trees; and if we may venture
to reveal the secrets of her breast, we must state that she ardently
desired to become the mistress of that stately mansion. Nor was this
desire lessened when she entered the great quadrangular court and gazed
around it.

Certain of a hearty welcome, Tom Forster rode in first, and cracked his
hunting-whip loudly, as he passed through the gateway, to summon the
servants. Newbiggin and three or four footmen rushed down the perron to
meet him. He contented himself with announcing to the butler that he had
come to dine with his lordship, and pass the night at the castle, and
had brought Miss Forster and Sir John Webb and his family with him, and
then jumping from the saddle, gave his horse to one of the servants. To
his surprise, Newbiggin looked rather embarrassed.

“What!--not at home?” cried the squire.

“Oh, yes, his lordship is at the castle, but he is engaged on rather
particular business,” replied the butler. “Some one is with him.”

“Oh, never mind!” cried the squire. “He’ll get his business done before
dinner-time. Mr. Charles Radclyffe will take care of us.”

As he spoke, Dorothy and Anna rode into the court, and immediately
afterwards the great lumbering coach followed.

After a moment’s consideration, Newbiggin made up his mind to admit
them. Aware that Mr. Forster was a Jacobite, and also aware that Sir
John Webb was a Roman Catholic and a staunch adherent of the Stuarts, he
thought he couldn’t be doing wrong.

Accordingly, he flew to the carriage, and helped its occupants to
alight, leaving the young ladies to the care of the grooms, and, by the
time he had fulfilled his duties, Charles Radclyffe made his appearance
with Father Nor-ham, and welcoming the party with great cordiality in
his brother’s name, led them to the garden. Having brought them to the
lawn, he left them there with Father Norham, and went in search of the
earl.

If Anna had been pleased with what she had seen of the castle, she was
quite enraptured now.

Never, she declared to Dorothy, had she beheld anything finer than the
prospect from the terrace. What charming scenery! what a lovely park!
what brown moors! what woods! And how well the Tyne looked in the
distance!

She next praised the romantic beauty of the glen, with its trees, and
rushing stream, and, above all, the picturesque old bridge.

In short, everything delighted her. And though she said least about it,
she was, perhaps, best pleased with the mansion itself. It was larger
and more imposing than she expected, and she again thought what a fine
thing it would be to be mistress of such a splendid place.

Lady Webb was just as much struck with the castle and its surroundings
as her daughter, and fondly hoped that she might soon have a stronger
interest in the place. Her ladyship was conversing with Father Norham,
and all she heard about the young earl heightened her desire to call
him her son-in-law. Father Norham spoke with the greatest warmth of his
lordship’s goodness of heart, noble qualities, and chivalrous character.

“He is like Bayard himself,” he said; “a chevalier without fear and
without reproach.”

“With such a splendid mansion as this, and with such wealth as his
lordship possesses, ‘tis a wonder he does not marry,” remarked Lady
Webb.

“His lordship will never marry except for love,” replied the priest.

“That is perfectly consistent with the noble and disinterested character
you have given him,” said Lady Webb. “But I should have thought,” she
added, glancing towards Dorothy, “that a very charming young friend of
ours might have touched his heart.”

“Apparently not,” replied Father Norham. “I myself should have been well
pleased if such had been the case. But I do not think Lord Derwentwater
will marry till our rightful king is restored.”

“Then he may have to wait long.” said her ladyship.

At this moment Charles Radclyffe made his appearance.

Seeing him return alone, Lady Webb and her daughter began to have some
misgivings, but they were quickly set at rest by Charles, and a few
minutes later his lordship himself was seen at the end of the terrace.

Lord Derwentwater was, of course, accompanied by the prince, but he left
him at the further end of the lawn, and went quickly on alone to welcome
his visitors.

Oh! how Anna’s heart fluttered as she beheld him.

His devoirs were first paid to Lady Webb, and then to the younger
ladies. Dorothy was quite easy in her manner, and shook hands with him
warmly, but Anna courtesied deeply to the formal bow he addressed to
her. At the same time, the flush on her cheek betrayed the state of her
feelings.

Lord Derwentwater could not fail to perceive this, and we doubt not he
was much gratified by the discovery, but he was obliged to turn to the
others.

Meanwhile, the prince had come up, and in compliance with the
instructions he had received, Lord Derwentwater introduced him as Mr.
Johnson--but without another word.

Sir John Webb bowed rather stiffly to the stranger, and Forster was
scarcely more polite; indeed, very little notice was taken of him,
except by the young ladies, both of whom were struck by his manner, and
entered into conversation with him.

They soon found out that he was a person of distinction, and learning
that he had only just come from France, felt sure he must be a messenger
from the Chevalier de Saint George, and began to question him about
the prince, displaying an interest in the cause, that could not but be
agreeable to the hearer.

“I shall probably see the prince ere long,” said the Chevalier, “and
will not fail to tell him what warm partisans he has among the ladies of
Northumberland.”

“Tell him that Dorothy Forster, of Bamborough Castle, will do her best
to aid him whenever he comes,” cried that young lady.

“Tell him that Anna Webb begins to think he never means to come at all,
and fears he has forgotten his friends,” added the other.

“Both messages shall reach him, I promise you,” said the prince. “And
when he learns how surpassingly beautiful are the two damsels who sent
them he will be doubly gratified.”

“We need no compliments,” said Anna. “For my part I am out of patience
with the prince.”

“Why so?”

“Because he neglects so many opportunities. He might be on the throne
now, had he chosen.”

“The prince has neglected no chance. But you are not aware of the
difficulties he has had to encounter.”

“I can partly guess them. But they are nothing. Were I in his place I
would have made twenty attempts, and either have succeeded or perished.”

“I admire your spirit. But to win a kingdom, you must have an army. And
the prince has no army.”

“He could have one very soon,” cried Anna.

“Yes, that is certain,” added Dorothy. “A small army could be raised
in this county. Lord Derwentwater could bring five hundred men. And my
brother, Mr. Forster could raise a troop.”

“Tell this to the prince, when you go back,” cried Anna. “Say that the
Jacobite ladies of England are dying to behold him.”

“That will bring him, if anything will,” laughed the prince.

At this moment Lord Derwentwater came up, and said to Anna:

“May I ask what message you are sending to the prince?”

“That we are all tired of waiting for him,” she replied. “We have been
so often disappointed, that we begin to think he will never come.”

“Then let me inform you that I have just received certain intelligence
that his majesty is in England at this moment.”

Dorothy and Anna uttered exclamations of surprise and delight.

“You hear that, papa?” cried the latter to Sir John Webb. “Lord
Derwentwater says that his majesty, King James the Third, is now in
England. Is not that good news?”

“Wonderfully good news!” exclaimed Sir John. “Where has he landed?”

“I can’t tell you where he has landed,” cried Tom Forster, scarcely
repressing a joyous shout. “But I can tell you where he is now. Since
none of you have discovered him, I’ll be first to kiss hands.”

And rushing forward, he bent before the prince, who graciously extended
his hand towards him.

On this there was a general movement towards the prince, who had now
entirely changed his deportment, and received them all with dignified
affability.

To Lady Webb he showed marked attention, and to each of the young ladies
he had something pleasant to say, and soon relieved any uneasiness they
might feel as to the freedom with which they had spoken to him.

This little ceremony over, he took Sir John Webb and Mr. Forster apart,
and remained in earnest conversation with them for a few minutes.

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



VII.--THE PROPOSAL.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you love me, Anna?”

Her glance became even more passionate, as she answered:

“I can--I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Come with me,” he said to Anna.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This intimation was quite sufficient, and it was arranged that the
ceremony should be performed by Father Nor-ham, and should take place,
next morning, in the little chapel.



VIII.--COLONEL OXBURGH AND HIS COMPANIONS.

|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 house, as if it had
been an inn, and while this was being done, the colonel again addressed
Newbiggin, and asked if there was any other company at the castle.

The butler smiled significantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



IX.--CONFESSION.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She uttered an exclamation, but the priest went on:

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

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

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

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



X.--A BANQUET.

|A GRAND dinner was given that day in the great banquet-ing-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 over-looked
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 Newbeggin, 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.

“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 to-morrow, or next day, at the latest--and his lordship will
accompany me.”

“Without an escort?” cried Colonel Oxburgh. “That must not be. Since
your majesty is resolved on this rash step, my friends and myself will
attend you. Do I not express your wishes, gentlemen?” he added to the
others.

“Most certainly,” replied Captain Wogan, answering for the rest. “We
shall be proud to escort his majesty, if he will permit us.”

“I accept your offer, gentlemen,” said the prince. “I did not calculate
on such good company.”

“We may be of use to your majesty on the journey,” remarked Captain
Wogan.

“I doubt it not,” said the prince. “Will you go with me?” he added to
Forster.

“I pray your majesty to excuse me,” replied the squire. “I must frankly
own I would rather not be engaged in the expedition.”

“As you please, sir,” said the prince, with affected indifference. “I
can do very well without you.”

“I see that I have not made myself understood, my liege,” said Forster.
“I am ready to fight for you, and if need be, die for you, but I will
not be instrumental in delivering you to your enemies.”

“Ah! I see I have done you an injustice,” said the prince.

The conversation then took another turn, and a good deal of curiosity
was manifested both by Sir John Webb and Colonel Oxburgh as to the
prince’s future plans, but his highness displayed considerable reserve
on this point, and did not choose to gratify them. Indeed, he soon
afterwards retired, and Lord Derwentwater went with him, leaving Charles
Radclyffe to attend to the company.

Those were hard-drinking days, and the Jacobites were as fond of good
claret as their predecessors the Cavaliers. We are afraid to say how
many magnums were emptied on the occasion, but before the party broke
up, which it did not do till a late hour, a general resolution was come
to, that a more strenuous effort should be made on the morrow, to induce
his majesty to forego his ill-advised journey to London, and instead
of endangering his safety by such a senseless attempt, to set up his
standard, and summon all his adherents to join him. Then he might
proceed to London as soon as he pleased.

A loud shout, with which his majesty’s name was coupled, concluded a
vehement harangue made by Colonel Oxburgh, and the party broke up.

Some of them retired to rest, but Tom Forster and two or three others
adjourned to a smaller room not far from the butler’s pantry, where a
bowl of capital punch was provided for them by Newbiggin.



XI.--A MYSTERIOUS OCCURRENCE IN THE CHAPEL.

|Anna Webb submitted unrepiningly to the penance enjoined by Father
Norham. She remained in her own room, and was not distracted by a visit
either from her mother, or Dorothy. Some refreshments were brought her
by a female servant, but they were untouched. Several hours were thus
passed in solitude and prayer, and night had come on. She wondered when
the priest would come, according to his promise, to take her to the
chapel.

At length, he appeared, and desired her to follow him. Wishing to avoid
the servants, who were crowded in the great hall, he led her down a
back staircase to a small room on the ground floor, where he obtained a
lantern. In another minute, they had crossed the court, and reached the
door of the chapel.

The little structure, it has been said, was screened by trees, and the
place was so dark, it would have been difficult to find the door, save
with the lantern’s aid.

A slight shiver ran through Anna’s frame as she entered the building,
but she attributed the feeling to the damp atmosphere. Meanwhile, Father
Norham had lighted a couple of tapers at the altar, and their feeble
glimmer enabled her to survey the place.

Its simplicity and diminutive size pleased her, and reassured her.
Knowing she would have to remain there alone till midnight, she
might have felt some misgivings had the room been large and sombre.
Fortunately, she was not aware that there was a vault beneath, in which
rested the earl’s ancestors. Marble tablets were on the walls, but she
did not read them.

After an exhortation, to which she listened devoutly, the priest
withdrew. Thus left alone, she knelt down at the altar, and was soon
engrossed in prayer.

For awhile she continued thus employed, but at length a feeling of
drowsiness came over her, which she found it impossible to resist.

How long she slept she could not tell, but when she awoke the place was
buried in darkness.

What had happened while she slumbered? And how came the tapers to be
extinguished?

Very much alarmed, she started to her feet, and somehow--though she
scarcely knew how--made her way to the door.

It was fastened. Father Norham must have locked it when he went out

She was thus to be kept in that dreadful place--for dreadful it now
seemed to her--till his return at midnight.

She could not guess the hour, but she might have to wait long--very
long! Moments seemed ages now. Her terror was insupportable.

Just then she heard the castle clock, and counted the strokes.

Eleven! Another agonising hour had to be borne!--another hour!--when
five minutes had been intolerable!

Rendered desperate by terror, she went back to the altar, and kneeling
down once more, prayed for deliverance.

Becoming somewhat calmer, she felt ashamed of her weakness, and tried
to persuade herself that the tapers might have gone out by accident. The
notion gave her momentary courage.

But her fears returned with greater force than before as she heard a
deep sigh, seemingly proceeding from some one close beside her, and she
fancied she discerned a dusky figure.

“Who is there?” she cried. “Is it you holy father?”

No answer was returned, but a slight sound was heard, and the figure
seemed to retreat.

She heard and saw no more.

Uttering a cry, she fell senseless at the foot of the altar, where she
was found shortly afterwards by Father Norham and her mother.

The former having brought the lantern with him, her situation was
perceived at once, and the prompt application of a smelling-bottle by
Lady Webb quickly restored her to consciousness. She was able to walk
back to the mansion, but begged not to be questioned as to the cause of
her fright till the morrow, when she should have quite recovered from
its effects.



XII.--A LETTER FROM THE EARL OF MAR.

|NEXT morning she related the mysterious occurrence to them both, but
they treated it very lightly, though neither could understand how the
tapers had been extinguished. All the rest they regarded as the effect
of an over-excited imagination.

“No one could have entered the chapel,” remarked the priest. “I locked
the door, and took the key with me. However, you must dismiss all these
thoughts from your mind, daughter. To-day the chapel will present a very
different appearance from what it did last night.”

“Yes--it will be the scene of your betrothal,” said Lady Webb.

“I would rather the ceremony took place elsewhere,” said Anna.

“It cannot be,” said Father Norham. “His lordship has arranged
the matter. The prince will be present, and it would be a great
disappointment to the household to be deprived of the sight.”

“It would also be a great disappointment to Sir John and myself,”
 observed Lady Webb. “Besides there are several guests in the Castle who
ought not to be excluded. For many reasons, therefore, there must be no
change in the plan.”

“Don’t say a word, mamma,” said Anna. “I am quite convinced. My
objections were ridiculous. The morning is delightful, and a walk in the
garden will set me quite right.”

“You will find Lord Derwentwater, his majesty, and almost all the
company assembled on the lawn,” said Lady Webb. “Come, I will take you
thither. Perhaps, Father Norham will accompany us.”

“With the greatest pleasure,” replied the priest.

On Anna’s appearance, Lord Derwentwater, who was standing with the
company on the terrace, came forward to meet her; and as he approached,
he remarked that she looked very pale. This did not detract from her
beauty, but rather gave interest to her countenance--at least, in his
eyes. He made some slight allusion to the circumstance, but she laughed
it off.

Not much passed between them, for the prince presently came up to offer
her his greetings, and by this time her cheek was flushed.

“I have news for you, fair lady,” said his highness, “and I desire to be
the first to communicate it. I do not mean to rob you of your lover,
so you may rest quite easy on that score. My proposed journey to London
will not be undertaken. A messenger has just arrived at the castle
bringing me a letter from the Earl of Mar, Secretary of State to Queen
Anne. His lordship had engaged that I should see the queen, and led
me to hope that great results would follow from the interview. These
confident expectations are now at an end, and my project must be given
up. Lord Mar writes that the queen, forgetful of her promises, refuses
to receive me, and that if I should present myself at Saint James’s
Palace, he will not answer for my safety. Under such circumstances, it
would be madness to make the attempt It is well that I arranged with
the Earl of Mar to write to me here, as if I had not heard from him, I
should have started on the journey. What might then have befallen me I
know not. Perchance, imprisonment in the Tower, in hope of compelling me
to relinquish my pretentions to the crown--but that I never would have
done.”

“Your majesty need not give us that assurance,” cried Anna. “But
imprisonment would have been grievous, and might have disheartened your
friends.”

“From the first I have been opposed to the scheme, as your majesty is
aware,” said Lord Derwentwater; “and I cannot, therefore, affect to
regret its abandonment.”

“I do not wonder you are better pleased to remain where you are,
cousin,” said the prince.

“I shall be far better pleased if your majesty will decide upon
summoning all your partisans to arms,” said the earl.

“Nothing would rejoice me more than to see ten thousand men assembled at
the castle,” said Anna with increased enthusiasm, “and eager for their
king to lead them on to victory. That is how I should like to see your
majesty march to London--and Lord Derwentwater with you.”

“Ay, I will never be left behind,” cried the earl.

Fire lighted up the prince’s eyes as they spoke, but it faded away.

“It cannot be,” he said. “It cannot be.”

“What cannot be, my liege?” cried Anna, regarding him fixedly. “Not the
insurrection? Not the march to London?”

“No,” he replied. “The Earl of Mar, in his letter counsels me to make no
immediate movement.”

“For what reason?” demanded Lord Derwentwater in surprise.

“He gives no reason,” rejoined the prince. “But Lord Mar knows
the feeling of the clans, and evidently deems the present juncture
unpropitious to a rising.”

“I cannot tell what may be the state of the clans,” said Lord
Derwentwater, scarcely able to repress his impatience; “but I am certain
the opportunity is favourable in the North of England--as can soon be
shown, if your majesty will give the signal.”

“I will not commit myself to any decisive step now, my lord,” said the
prince, who when thus urged, seemed to shrink from the enterprise. “Nor
do I think it will be prudent for me to remain here long.”

“What danger does your majesty apprehend?” cried the earl. “All are
devoted to you. There are no traitors in the castle.”

“But I have many enemies in the country, and the Earl of Mar bids me
‘beware,’” said the prince.

“We will defend you against your enemies, my liege,” said Lord
Derwentwater. “You need not fear them. Immediate preparations shall be
made.”

“No haste is needful, cousin,” said the prince. “I have a strong guard
enough,” he added, glancing at Colonel Oxburgh and his friends, who were
standing at a little distance. “Let the day pass tranquilly--if it will.
To-morrow we will consider what shall be done.”

“Heaven grant your majesty may change your mind in the interim!”
 observed Anna.

“If you exercise your powers of persuasion, fair lady, there is no
saying what you may accomplish,” said the prince, gallantly.

At this moment a bell was heard, and Newbiggin came forth with two other
servants in livery, and respectfully announced breakfast.

The prince offered his hand to Anna and led her to the house, and the
rest of the party followed.



XIII.--THE BETROTHAL.

|A profuse breakfast, served in the good old style, awaited them in the
dining-room. The sideboard groaned with the weight of huge cold joints,
hams, tongues, and pasties; and broiled trout and salmon in abundance
appeared on the table. How many good things there were besides in the
shape of cutlets and omelettes, we cannot tell, but nothing seemed
wanting. Chocolate was handed to the ladies, but claret suited the
gentlemen best, though in some instances a flagon of strong ale was
preferred.

Breakfast over, the ladies withdrew to prepare for the ceremony
appointed to take place in the chapel, while the prince again walked
forth on the terrace, in company with Lord Derwentwater and Sir John
Webb, and gazed with fresh delight at the prospect.

Colonel Oxburgh and his companions, with Tom Forster, adjourned to
the stables. There was a good deal of conjecture among them as to the
prince’s plans, which now seemed quite undecided; but they came to the
conclusion that no rising would take place. At the same time, they all
rejoiced that the hazardous--and as they deemed it useless--journey to
London had been abandoned.

“Something ought to be done,” cried Forster. “But it puzzles me to say
what.”

“Have patience,” said Colonel Oxbugh. “Depend upon it we shan’t remain
long idle. His majesty will be forced to make a move of some kind.”

Long before the hour appointed for the betrothal, the little chapel was
filled. All the household craved permission to witness the ceremony, and
none were refused. The guests entered at the same time, and found places
where they could. But little room was left, as may be imagined, when all
these persons were accommodated. In the large pew were the prince with
Charles Radclyffe, Mr. Forster and his sister--the latter looking bright
and blooming as usual.

Lord Derwentwater was standing at the door of the little edifice in
momentary expectation of the arrival of her to whom he was about to be
affianced. She came, leaning on her father’s arm, and attended by her
mother--not decked in bridal attire--not draped in a bridal veil--for
such adornments would have been unsuitable to the occasion, but arrayed
in a charming costume of azure satin and lace.

After salutations had passed, Sir John Webb consigned his lovely
daughter to the earl, and followed them with Lady Webb.

An irrepressible murmur of admiration burst forth as the youthful pair
moved towards the altar, where they immediately knelt down, and a group
was formed behind them of which the prince was the principal figure--his
highness having come with the others from the pew.

Not till a prayer was recited could the spectators obtain a glimpse of
the scene at the altar, and if this was quickly hidden from their sight
they heard the vow pronounced that bound the pair together, and they
likewise heard Father Norham’s benediction.

Those near the altar saw the earl embrace his affianced bride as they
rose together, and some of them remarked that she looked strangely pale.
Only for a minute, for her colour quickly returned. The prince, however,
noticed the circumstance, and so did Dorothy. But both attributed it to
deep emotion.

Nothing whatever marred the ceremony, the sole fault of which, in the
opinion of the majority of those present, was that it was too brief.

Several of the household grouped themselves on either side of the path
leading to the gate to offer their good wishes to the newly-affianced
pair as they passed by. Among these were old Nicholas Ribbleton, and an
elderly dame who, like himself, had lived in the family for years.

“Eh! she’s a bonnie lass!” cried this old woman, after scrutinising her
sharply. “But I doubt if she’ll make his lordship happy. He had better
have chosen Dorothy F orster.”

“Why, what ails her?” said Ribbleton.

“I cannot exactly tell--but there’s a look about her I don’t like.”

“Well, it’s too late to change now, Grace,” observed Ribbleton. “The
troth is plighted.”

“Ay, that’s the worst of it,” rejoined the old woman. “But a time may
come, when his lordship will wish what’s done were undone.”

This was the only discordant note uttered, and it reached no other ear
but Ribbleton’s, and him it made angry. So he walked off, and left the
old prophetess of ill to herself.



XIV.--THE SPY.

|The rest of the day was spent in festivity and amusement.

Lord Derwentwater and his affianced bride did not stray beyond the
garden, and seemed so perfectly happy in each other’s society that no
one went near them.

The prince explored the mysterious glen, and Charles Radclyffe acted
as his guide, introducing him to all the beauties of the place, and
relating all the legends connected with it. A large party accompanied
his highness, including Lady Webb and Dorothy Forster--the latter of
whom had often seen the place before, but was quite as much enchanted
with it as ever.

The visit to this picturesque dell, which has been previously described,
occupied some time, for there was a great deal to be seen. But neither
the prince, nor any of those with him, were aware that, while they were
tracking the course of the Devil’s Water over its rocky channel, or
standing near the pool, they were watched by a person concealed amid the
brushwood on its banks.

This person was an emissary of Sir William Lorraine, of Bywell Park,
high sheriff of the county, and a strong supporter of the Government.
That very morning, Sir William had received the astounding information
that the Pretender had arrived at Dilston Castle, and that a rising in
his favour was imminent among the gentlemen of the county; but as the
news came from a suspicious source, the high sheriff, though alarmed,
did not entirely credit it, and, before taking any active measures--such
as raising a posse-comitatus, or calling out the militia--he determined
to send a couple of spies to Dilston to ascertain the truth of the
report.

One of these emissaries was now concealed, as we have stated, among
the trees overhanging the glen. Without betraying himself, he got
sufficiently near the party to hear their discourse, and soon
learnt enough to convince him that the plainly attired, but
distinguished-looking young man, whom he beheld, and to whom so much
attention was paid by Charles Radclyffe and the rest, was no other than
the Chevalier de Saint George.

As soon as he had clearly ascertained this point, he stole away, mounted
his horse, which he had left in a thicket near the moor, and galloped
off to convey the important information to Sir William Lorraine.

On reaching Bywell Park, he found the high sheriff anxiously expecting
him, and called out:

“I have seen the Pretender, Sir William--seen him with my own eyes.”

“You are certain of it, Jesmond?”

“I saw him in the glen by the side of the Devil’s Water. He had a
large party with him, and I heard several of ‘em address him as ‘your
majesty.’”

“Enough,” cried the high sheriff. “You have done your work well,
Jesmond. But where have you left Hedgeley?”

“I’ve seen nothing of him since we got to Dilston, Sir William. He went
to the castle, and I went to the grounds. I took the right course it
appears, for I soon found the person I was looking for, and without
asking any questions, or letting myself be seen.”

“I hope Hedgeley has not been seized as a spy,” said the high sheriff.

“If he has, he’ll tell nothing, Sir William. Don’t fear him. If you want
to take the place by surprise tomorrow, you can do it. His lordship has
taken no precautions. With half a dozen mounted men I could have taken
the Pretender prisoner myself, and have carried him off.”

“I wish you had done so, Jesmond,” laughed the high sheriff. “It would
have saved me the trouble of getting a party of men together. I must set
about the task without delay. You think all will be safe at Dilston till
tomorrow?”

“Not a doubt about it, Sir William. Lord Derwent-water’s guests seem to
be amusing themselves. I think--from what I overheard--that his Lordship
has a grand banquet to-day. Certainly, some festivities are taking place
at the castle.”

“It would be a pity to disturb them,” said the high sheriff. “To-morrow
I will present myself at the castle with sufficient force to render all
resistance useless.”

Hedgeley, the emissary to Dilston, had not fared so well as his comrade.
Stopped at the gate, and unable to explain his business entirely to the
porter’s satisfaction, he was locked up in a strong room for the night.
This was done by Colonel Oxburgh’s order, who chanced to be in the court
at the time, and interrogated him. Except detention, the spy had nothing
to complain of, for he had plenty to eat and drink.

Jesmond had correctly informed the high sheriff, when he told him that
a grand dinner would be given that day at the castle. A vast deal
of handsome plate was displayed at the banquet, which was far more
agreeable to the noble host than the dinner of the previous day, since
it was graced by the presence of his affianced bride, who now sat next
to him, and looked more charming than ever, being beautifully dressed,
and in high spirits. The prince was likewise in a very lively mood, and
contributed to the general gaiety at the upper end of the table.

In the evening there was music in the grand saloon, which was
brilliantly lighted up for the occasion. Anna produced a great effect,
and her magnificent voice enraptured the prince as much as it had
enraptured Lord Der-wentwater when he first heard it.

Very different in style, but equally effective in their way, were some
simple ditties sung with great taste and feeling by Dorothy Forster.

As we have intimated, the prince was in a very gay humour and seemed to
take no thought of the morrow--though that morrow had much in store for
him. He talked lightly with Anna and Dorothy, laughed and jested with
Sir John Webb, Colonel Oxburgh, and Forster, but he talked seriously
with no one.

So passed his last night at Dilston Castle.



XV.--A GENERAL DEPARTURE.

|A BRIGHT day dawned on Dilston.

Fair looked the garden with its lawn and terrace, inviting those within
the mansion to stroll forth and enjoy the freshness of the morn. So calm
and still was all around that the rippling of the hidden burn could be
distinctly heard in the deep glen. Within the park, beyond the old grey
bridge that linked it with the grounds, the deer could be seen couched
beneath the oaks. The neighbouring woods, the dark moorland in the
distance, over which hung a thin mist, the river glistening here and
there through the trees--all completed a picture which was seen by more
than one of the earl’s guests, and often recalled by them.

The prince was amongst those who brushed the dew from the lawn, and
gazed at the charming prospect. He likewise attended matins in the
little chapel.

As he was returning from the service with Lord Der-wentwater, he
met Colonel Oxburgh, and was struck by the grave expression of his
countenance.

“Good morrow, colonel,” he said, returning the other’s military salute.
“I fear, from your looks, that you have some bad news to give me.”

“What I have to tell your majesty demands instant consideration and
decision,” replied Oxburgh. “By some means or other, your arrival has
been discovered by Sir William Lorraine, the high sheriff of the county,
and yesterday afternoon he sent a spy here to make sure that he had not
been misinformed. The fellow was suspected and locked up for the night,
but it was only this morning that I forced him by threats to confess his
errand. It is certain from what he says that the sheriff will come here
with a strong party of men to secure your majesty’s person.”

Lord Derwentwater looked aghast at this startling intelligence, but the
prince did not seem much disturbed by it.

“Instant measures must be taken for the defence of the place,” said Lord
Derwentwater.

“It cannot be defended, my lord,” rejoined Colonel Ox-burgh. “His
majesty must not remain here.”

“Do you counsel flight, colonel?” said the prince.

“Not flight--but a retreat, my liege,” replied Oxburgh.

“No need to fly,” said Lord Derwentwater. “I will undertake to conceal
his majesty from any search that can be made for him.”

“Better he should seek shelter in some fortified house or castle,”
 observed Oxburgh.

“But where?” demanded the prince. “Where would you have me go?”

“If your majesty will not remain here, and trust yourself to me, I
advise you to go to Bamborough Castle,” said Lord Derwentwater.

“But is Forster to be relied on?” said the prince. “Is he thoroughly
loyal?”

“I’ll answer for him with my life,” said the earl.

“And so will I, my liege,” added Oxburgh.

“Then I’ll trust him,” said the prince.

“Shall I acquaint him with your majesty’s determination?” inquired the
earl. “No time must be lost.”

“I’ll go to him myself,” rejoined the prince.

“Ah! here he comes!” exclaimed Colonel Oxburgh.

As he spoke, Forster was seen descending the steps with Sir John Webb,
and immediately obeyed a summons given him by the colonel.

He was as much alarmed as the others when he learnt the prince’s
jeopardy, and before his highness signified his intention, offered him
an asylum at Bamborough.

It was then decided that the prince’s departure should take place
forthwith, and it was likewise arranged that Lord Derwentwater with
Colonel Oxburgh and his troop should escort his highness.

Some further arrangements were subsequently made, but these were
sufficient in the meantime, and Colonel Oxburgh and Forster hurried off
to the stables to give directions about the horses, while the prince and
Lord Derwentwater entered the house.

As soon as the prince’s intended departure became known all was bustle
and confusion. The news was quickly communicated to the ladies, who very
soon came downstairs, and another consultation was held in the library.

What was to be done? Anne and Dorothy were determined not to be left
behind. Since the prince was going to Bamborough, and Lord Derwentwater,
and almost everybody else were going with him, they would go too. Both
were such perfect equestrians that they could be trusted to keep up with
the fugitives, while their spirit was equal to any unforeseen difficulty
or danger that might arise. So the proposition was acceded to.

Then came a suggestion from Lady Webb, to the effect that she and Sir
John should drive back to Bamborough. This was likewise adopted.

Preparations for a general start were then made at once. Trunks and
valises were packed up. Riding-dresses donned, horses brought round, Sir
John Webb’s carriage got ready, and in less than half an hour the prince
and a large party consisting of Lord Derwentwater and his betrothed, Tom
Forster and his fair sister, Colonel Oxburgh and his companions, were
speeding down the chestnut avenue, with the intent of shaping their
course to Bamborough Castle, which they hoped to reach before night.

Some quarter of an hour later, Sir John Webb’s great lumbering coach
took the same route.

Charles Radclyffe was left in charge of Dilston, and empowered to act as
he deemed best, in his brother’s absence.

Hedgeley, the spy, was detained for some time after the prince’s
departure, and then liberated.

_END OF BOOK THE FIRST._



_BOOK THE SECOND_ BAMBOROUGH CASTLE,

[Illustration: 0066]



I.--THE HIGH SHERIFF.

|ABOUT ten o’clock on the same day, the high sheriff, accompanied by
a score of well-mounted yeomen, armed with various weapons, arrived
at Dilston Castle. The gate was open, and without saying a word to the
porter, he rode into the court, followed by Jesmond and a groom, leaving
the yeomen on guard outside.

Charles Radclyffe who was standing at the entrance of the mansion, came
down the steps to meet him, and a formal salutation passed between them.

“You will not be surprised at my visit, Mr. Radclyffe,” said the
sheriff. “I have come here in the execution of a painful duty, and
desire to discharge it as lightly as I can. Be pleased to tell your
brother, Lord Derwentwater, that a certain important person, whom I am
aware is his guest, must be delivered up to me.”

“In reply to your demand, Sir William,” replied Charles Radclyffe,
firmly, “I have to inform you that there are no guests in the castle and
that Lord Derwentwater himself is absent.”

The sheriff looked confounded, and consulted Jesmond by a glance.

The latter shook his head to intimate that the assertion ought not to be
credited.

“Excuse me, Mr. Radclyffe,” said the sheriff, “I can understand that you
consider yourself justified in denying that the Pretender is here. But I
have proof to the contrary. This man beheld him yesterday.”

“I saw him in your company, Mr. Radclyffe,” said Jes-mond. “I heard you
and several others address him as your majesty.”

“What have you to say to this, sir?” said the sheriff.

“I might say that the man is mistaken, but I will not,” replied Charles.
“I will content myself with stating that the person he beheld, and whom
he fancied was the Chevalier de Saint George, is gone.”

“This will be vexatious, if it should turn out correct,” muttered the
sheriff.

“Don’t believe it, Sir William,” cried Jesmond. “Depend upon it, we
shall find him.”

“I have given you my positive assurance, which ought to be sufficient,
Sir William,” said Charles Radclyffe. “But if you still entertain any
doubts, pray search the house--question the servants--take any steps you
think proper.

“I intend to do so, sir,” rejoined the sheriff dismounting, and giving
his horse to the groom.

Jesmond likewise dismounted, and followed him.

On the steps the sheriff encountered Newbiggin, and some others of the
servants, who corroborated Charles Radclyffe’s assertions; and in the
entrance hall he found Father Norham, with whom he was acquainted, and
whom he respectfully saluted.

“Your reverence knows my business,” he remarked. “Will you aid me?”

“You cannot expect me to do so, Sir William,” replied the priest. “But I
will tell you frankly, that no one is concealed here.”

“Has the Pretender fled?” demanded the sheriff.

“The _Pretender_ has never been here, Sir William.”

“This is mere equivocation, sir,” cried the sheriff. “I will not be
trifled with. I will search the house from top to bottom, but I will
find him. Come with me!” he added to Newbiggin.

Attended by the butler, and assisted by Jesmond, he then went upstairs,
and peered into a great many rooms, but soon gave up the fruitless
search.

“I told you how it would be, Sir William,” observed the priest, amused
by his discomfited air, as he returned to the hall. “This is a large
house, and if you were to search every room in it you would find it
a tedious business. Once more, I tell you the person you seek is not
here.”

“Will you tell me whither he is gone?”

“No; you must find that out for yourself, Sir William. You will act
wisely if you abandon the quest altogether.”

“No--no! that must not be,” cried the sheriff.

“Certainly not, Sir William,” said Jesmond. “Leave me to make further
investigations. I warrant you I’ll discover something.”

Receiving permission to do as he pleased, Jesmond proceeded to the
stables, and in about ten minutes came back to the sheriff, whom he
found in the court-yard.

The smile on his countenance betokened success.

“I’ve found it all out, Sir William,” he cried. “You won’t be
disappointed. A large party on horseback left this morning--but the
Pretender was not one of them.”

“Then he is here, still?”

“No, Sir William; he went away in Sir John Webb’s coach.”

“In a coach!--then we may overtake him!”

“Undoubtedly. The carriage is large and heavy, and doesn’t travel more
than three or four miles an hour. We shall catch him before he gets to
Morpeth.”

“Is he gone in that direction?”

“He is, Sir William. I told you I’d find out something, and you must own
that I’ve managed to put you on the right scent.”

“You have,” cried the sheriff, jumping on his horse. “Follow me,
gentlemen!--follow me!”--he called out to the yeomen, who had been
waiting all this time outside the gate.

Next minute they were rattling down the avenue, with the sheriff at
their head.

We may be sure Jesmond was not left behind.



II.--PURSUIT.

|On arriving at Corbridge, the sheriff found that the carriage had taken
the high road to Newcastle, the crossroad by Whittingham and Stamfordham
being impracticable, and accordingly he and his troop galloped off in
that direction; but when they reached the extensive moor that skirts the
town, they discovered that a deviation from the direct course had been
made on the left, and that the travellers had crossed, or attempted to
cross the moor to Gosforth.

The road chosen was so bad, that it seemed almost certain the carriage
would be found buried up to the axle-tree in a bog, and with that
confident expectation the pursuers took the same route.

From appearances on the road, it was sufficiently clear that the heavy
vehicle had been more than once partially engulfed, and could only have
been extricated with difficulty--but it had reached firm ground at last,
and had gone on to Gosforth.

About three miles further on the pursuers descried it slowly, rumbling
on towards Blagdon Park. Cheered by the sight, they accelerated their
pace, and shouting loudly as they went on, soon caused the carriage to
stop.

Anxious to make the intended arrest without any appearance of violence,
the sheriff ordered a halt of his followers, and rode up to the
carriage, attended merely by Jesmond.

Lady Webb and the two women-servants inside had been greatly alarmed by
the shouting of the pursuers and sudden stoppage of the vehicle, and Sir
John thrust his head out of the window to see what was the matter.

Just then the sheriff came up, and saluting him formally explained his
business. Sir John replied rather angrily, and declared in positive
terms that there was no one in the carriage beside himself and Lady
Webb and their two women-servants.

As the sheriff expressed a doubt, Sir John called to his man-servant to
come down and open the door, and immediately got out.

“Now, Sir William--pray satisfy yourself!” he cried.

“I must trouble Lady Webb to alight--and the two women,” said the
sheriff.

The injunction was obeyed by her ladyship, though not without strong
expressions of displeasure.

As soon as they had all come forth, Jesmond got into the carriage, and
looked under the seats, but found only trunks and boxes.

As he emerged with a crestfallen look, he was jeered by Sir John and her
ladyship. The sheriff, too, blamed him for the blunder he had made.

“I am certain the Pretender is in the carriage, Sir William,” he said.

“Then find him,” cried the sheriff.

“Ay, find him, fellow, if you can,” added Sir John, derisively.

“He is here,” cried Jesmond, pointing to the footman, a tall, handsome
young man.

An exclamation from Sir John was checked by her ladyship, who made a
private sign to the footman to hold his tongue.

“You are not making a second blunder, I trust?” said the sheriff.

“No, no! rest easy, Sir William! All right now! I didn’t recognise him
at first in his disguise. But now I’ll swear to him.”

“You will swear that I am the Chevalier de Saint George, whom you call
the Pretender?” cried the footman.

“I will,” said Jesmond.

Again Sir John would have interfered, if a look from her ladyship had
not kept him quiet.

“You need have no hesitation, Sir William,” said Jesmond. “I will take
all consequences on my own head.”

“But your head is nothing,” rejoined the sheriff.

After a moment’s consideration, he told Sir John Webb he must turn back,
and accompany him to Newcastle.

Sir John protested vehemently against the order, and declared it would
put him to the greatest inconvenience.

“I cannot help that,” said the sheriff. “I own I am somewhat perplexed,
but a great responsibility rests with me, and I am afraid of committing
an error.”

“Then I warn you that you will commit a very great error indeed, if you
take me to Newcastle,” said Sir John.

“We are wasting time here,” cried the sheriff. “Your ladyship will
be pleased to re-enter the carriage,” he added, in a polite, but
authoritative tone to Lady Webb--“and you, Sir John.”

The women servants followed, and the footman was about to shut the door,
when the sheriff told him he must get in likewise.

Finding Sir John was about to resist the intrusion, Jesmond pushed the
young man in, vociferating in a mocking voice:

“Room for his majesty, King James the Third!”

Irritated to the last point, Sir John would certainly have resented the
insult if Lady Webb had not held him fast.

She could not, however, prevent him from putting his head out from the
window, and shouting to the sheriff:

“Where is this farce to end, Sir William?”

“Most likely at the Tower of London,” was the sarcastic reply.

“Make no rejoinder, Sir John,” said Lady Webb. “You’ll have the laugh
against him by-and-by.”

The coach was then turned round, and guarded by the troop of yeomen,
proceeding slowly towards Newcastle.



III.--LORD WIDDRINGTON.

|Very different was the progress of the prince and his party from that
made by the occupants of the coach. While the latter were crawling along
the highway, the others were flying across the country, as if chasing
the deer.

Over broad wide moors they speeded--across valley, and through
wood--past ancient castles, and along the banks of rushing
streams--allowing nothing to stop them--not even the Piets’ wall,
through a gap in which they dashed--till after traversing many a wild
and waste such as only can be seen in Northumberland, they came in sight
of the great German Ocean, and the rugged coast that bounds it.

Sixteen miles and upwards had been accomplished in a marvellously short
space of time, but then all were well mounted. Throughout this long
stretch, Anna, who we have said rode splendidly, kept by the side of
Lord Derwentwater, and as he led the way, she shared any risk he might
run.

A pretty sight it was to see them together, and drew forth the
admiration of those who followed in their course. Somehow or other, they
got ahead, and the Prince and Dorothy Forster, who were next behind,
made no effort to come up with them. The rest of the party kept well
together.

At length a point was reached from which, as we have just mentioned, the
broad expanse of the ocean could he surveyed. On the right was Camboise
Bay, spreading out with all its rocky headlands as far as Tynemouth and
South Shields. On the left was Druridge Bay with Coquet Island in the
distance. Behind them a few miles off was Morpeth, with the ruins of
its castle, and its old church, and beyond Morpeth lay the wild district
they had traversed.

As yet they had made no halt, Lord Derwent water’s intention being to
stop at Widdrington Castle, which could now be descried about a
mile off, beautifully situated near the coast. It was a picturesque
structure, surrounded by fine timber, and though of great antiquity,
seemed in excellent repair.

Lord Widdrington was a devoted partisan of the House of Stuart, and
it was therefore certain that his castle would be thrown open to the
prince, and that his highness might tarry there as long as he pleased if
he deemed it as safe as Bamborough.

After contemplating the fine old structure with delight for a few
minutes, the prince moved on, and followed by the whole party rode down
the eminence, and entered the park.

They had not gone far, when they met the noble owner of the mansion.

Lord Widdrington chanced to be riding about his grounds at the time, and
seeing the party enter the lodge-gate, he hastened towards them.

How great was his astonishment when he learnt who was his visitor! He
instantly flung himself from his horse to pay homage to him whom he
regarded as his king.

But the prince was as quick as himself, and anticipating his design,
dismounted and embraced him, expressing the greatest delight at
beholding him.

Lord Widdrington had quite the air of a country gentleman. About
five and thirty, he was well-made, though somewhat robust, with good
features, lighted up by grey eyes, and characterised by a frank, manly
expression. He wore a blue riding-dress trimmed with silver, a blonde
peruke and riding-boots.

By this time Lord Derwentwater had come up, and explanations were
quickly given as to the position in which the prince was placed.

Lord Widdrington looked grave, and after a few moments’ deliberation
said:

“Your majesty must be certain that nothing would gratify me more than to
receive you as my guest, but your safety is the first consideration. I
am bound, therefore, to state, that in case of pursuit, you would not be
as safe here as at Bamborough.”

“Such is my own opinion,” remarked Lord Derwentwater.

“There are a hundred hiding places in the old castle,” pursued Lord
Widdrington; “and besides, a boat can be always in readiness, so that
your majesty could be taken to Lindisfarne, where you might be concealed
for a month.

“Whatever course you advise, my lord, I will adopt,” said the prince.
“But I must not be deprived of the power of retreat.”

“‘Tis therein especially that Bamborough has the advantage over this
mansion, my liege,” said Forster, who had come up. “I will answer with
my life that you shall not fall into the hands of your enemies.”

“And I dare not assert as much, since I might not be able to make good
my words,” said Lord Widdrington.

“That decides me,” cried the prince. “I shall take up my quarters at
Bamborough.”

“I trust your majesty will tarry awhile, and accept such hospitality as
I am able to offer you,” entreated Lord Widdrington.

“How say you, my lord?” cried the prince, appealing to Lord
Derwentwater. “Shall I stay? I am in your hands.”

His lordship thought an hour’s halt might be risked, so the whole of
the party dismounted, and were conducted to a large antique dining-hall,
adorned with portraits of the family, commencing with Gerard de
Widdrington, who flourished in the time of Edward the Third.

Here a goodly repast was served with remarkable promptitude. Of course,
the viands were cold, but those who partook of them were too hungry
to care for that--for they had breakfasted but slightly before
starting,--and even the two fair damsels had gained a good appetite by
the ride.

Claret there was in abundance, and a goblet was devoted to a young pair
of whose recent betrothal Lord Widdrington had just heard. The health
of King James was drunk at the close of the repast, which was not
prolonged beyond an hour. At the expiration of that time the horses were
brought round.

After glancing round the entrance-hall, which was panelled with oak, and
decked with trophies of the chase and ancient weapons, and admiring the
carved oak staircase, the prince went forth, and mounted his steed--Lord
Widdrington holding the bridle. With graceful gallantry, his lordship
next assisted the two fair equestrians to the saddle. This done, he
mounted his own horse, with the purpose of attending the prince to
Bamborough. Moreover, he had ordered half a dozen well-armed men to
follow at the rear of the troop.

With this additional force the party proceeded on its way--though not at
the same rapid pace as heretofore.



IV.--DUNSTANBOROUGH CASTLE.

|No longer feeling any uneasiness, the prince greatly enjoyed the ride
along this remarkable coast, which, besides being studded with ancient
castles, commands unequalled sea-views.

The day was fine, with a fresh breeze blowing from the North Sea. Many
vessels were in sight, giving life to the picture.

Before them lay Warkworth Castle, finely situated on a peninsula, at the
mouth of the lovely river Coquet, and the sight of the tall grey towers
of this imposing structure so full of historical recollections, greatly
moved the prince.

“From that proud castle of the Percys I should like to be proclaimed,”
 he cried aloud.

“Your wish shall be gratified, my liege, that we promise you,” rejoined
Lord Widdrington and Mr. Forster, who overheard the exclamation.

And they fulfilled their promise, but not till a later date.

An ancient stone bridge across the Coquet brought the prince in front of
the castle, and he paused for a few minutes to gaze at it. Fain would he
have visited the Hermitage, but the wish could not be gratified, and
he rode on through the little town. No interference was offered to the
party since Lord Widdrington and Mr. Forster were at its head.

To Warkworth quickly succeeded a still finer castle--Alnwick; and the
prince was again lost in admiration of the second magnificent feudal
structure reared on a height above the town, and lording it over the
surrounding country.

Guessing his highness’s thoughts, Lord Widdrington said:

“Had your majesty these two castles, with Dunstan-borough and
Bamborough, and all four well garrisoned, you might hold your own till
an army could be raised, that should win you your kingdom.”

“Bamborough is yours already, my liege,” added Forster. “And doubt not
the others will be gained.”

Several fresh objects interested the prince as he rode on. Amongst them
was Howick Tower, now destroyed.

Soon afterwards Dunstanborough Castle could be descried on the right. As
the prince advanced, it was easy to perceive that the enormous pile was
in ruins, but it still looked strong, and its position on a ridge of
rocks overlooking the sea was strikingly grand.

Several towers and a large portion of the walls were left; but that the
castle could be rendered capable of defence seemed very doubtful to the
prince, though both Lord Widdrington and Mr. Forster were of a different
opinion.

“If your majesty had time to inspect the stronghold, I would convince
you of its importance,” said Lord Widdrington. “Ruined as it is, it is
so immensely strong that I would undertake to hold it for a month, and
with a few large guns it would command the sea.”

“There are some extraordinary caverns beneath the castle, where any
amount of arms and ammunition sent from France could be stored,”
 observed Forster.

“Obtain possession of the place as soon as you can,” remarked the
prince. “It ought to belong to us.”

“It _shall_ belong to your majesty,” said Lord Widdrington.

During the ride along the coast, Lord Derwentwater had not deemed
it necessary to pay especial attention to the prince, since Lord
Widdrington was better able than himself to furnish any information his
highness might require.

The enamoured earl, therefore, felt at liberty to devote himself
exclusively to the object of his affections. To enjoy greater freedom,
the young pair separated themselves from the troop, and pursued their
course along the turf that skirted the road--halting, occasionally, to
gaze at the sea.

Attracted by Dunstanborough Castle, they galloped towards the grand old
ruin, and after a brief survey of the gateway and towers were hastening
back across the plain, when Anna’s horse stumbled and fell. Before the
earl could dismount and come to her assistance, she had regained her
feet, but her horse had sprained his shoulder so badly that he could
scarcely move.

Deeming it the best thing that could be done, Lord Derwentwater proposed
to ride as quickly as he could after the party, and bring back another
horse for her.

“Dare you remain here alone till I return?” he said.

“I am not in the slightest degree afraid,” she replied.

“I shall not be away many minutes,” he cried, dashing off at full speed.

By this time, the party had disappeared, but he soon overtook them,
and in less than five minutes returned with one of Lord Widdrington’s
grooms.

But Anna was not there. The poor disabled horse had never stirred from
the spot. But its mistress was gone.

Lord Derwentwater gazed anxiously in every direction, but could see
nothing of her. Thinking she might have gone to the castle, he hurried
thither, followed by the groom, dashed through the gateway, and through
an inner gate into the court.

Here he gazed distractedly around, but could see no one. Nor was any
answer returned to his cries.



V.--HOW THE PRINCE WAS LODGED IN THE OLD FORTRESS.

|Meanwhile, the prince and his attendants had proceeded tranquilly on
their way to Bamborough Castle, which is not more than an hour’s ride
from Dunstanborough.

But nearly double that time was consumed on the present occasion, for
the prince made several halts, being greatly struck by the imposing
aspect and commanding position of the old stronghold.

No uneasiness was felt at the non-appearance of the earl and his
betrothed. It was known that an accident had befallen the young lady’s
horse--and all were aware that a groom had gone back with his lordship
to Dunstanborough--but no importance was attached to this circumstance.

On his arrival at Bamborough the prince was ceremoniously received by
Mr. Forster who had ridden on in advance with Dorothy. He was first
ushered into the hall of the modern mansion which was thronged with
servants, who bowed reverently as he appeared, and everything looked so
cheerful and comfortable, and so like the abode of a country squire--all
the doors were wide open--there were so many dogs about--and such an air
of free and easy hospitality pervaded the place--that he would fain have
taken up his quarters there, had it been judged prudent.

Mr. Forster would have readily acceded to his highness’s wishes, and
have assigned him the best rooms in the mansion, but Lord Widdrington
and Colonel Oxburgh declared that he must be lodged in the old castle.
There he might sleep in security--surrounded by lofty walls, and
protected by strong gates. In the daytime there was comparatively little
danger.

Quite reconciled to the arrangement, the prince was shortly afterwards
conducted by his host to the lower ward of the castle, and thence to one
of the towers, the chambers within which were comfortably furnished, and
with this accommodation he was very well content.

As a guard to his highness, it was next arranged that Colonel Oxburgh
should occupy the lower chamber of the same tower, and that the
adjoining fortifications should be tenanted by Captain Wogan and the
rest of the troop, together with some of Mr. Forster’s retainers on
whose courage and fidelity perfect reliance could be placed.

These arrangements made, the prince walked round the walls of the
castle, attended by his host, Lord Widdring-ton, and Colonel Oxburgh,
and was greatly struck by the strength of its position.

Though the sea was tolerably calm, the waves came dashing against the
precipitous rock on which the edifice was reared. The Fame Islands
looked close at hand, and Holy Island could be seen looming in the
distance on the left.

Turning from the sea, the prince contemplated for awhile the square
massive keep, and then descended to the court.

Here they were met by the butler, who brought the welcome intelligence
that dinner was served. Though it was judged expedient that the prince
should lodge within the castle, it was not thought necessary that he
should dine there.

“If I am not able to entertain your majesty as well as I could desire,”
 said Mr. Forster, “I trust you will excuse me on the ground that I have
had little time for preparation. I cannot give you a banquet such as we
partook of yesterday at Dilston.”

“Make no apologies,” said the prince. “I am no epicure, and care not how
plain the fare may be. Apropos of the feast of yesterday! where is Lord
Derwentwater?”

Mr. Forster could not answer the question, but the butler being applied
to, said that neither his lordship nor the young lady with him had
arrived.

“This is strange!’’ exclaimed the prince.

“Your majesty need not feel uneasy,” laughed Forster. “They will be here
presently. Is it your pleasure to wait dinner for them?”

His highness did not deem that necessary, but thought some one ought to
go in quest of them.

“That will I,” cried Lord Widdrington.

And hieing at once to the stable, he called for his horse, and attended
by a couple of grooms, set off towards Dunstanborough.



VI.--ANNA’S ADVENTURE IN THE CAVERN.

|He had got more than half way thither, when he thought he descried them
in the distance, but as night was now coming on, he did not feel quite
sure. In another minute, however, all doubts were removed. The persons
he beheld were Lord Derwentwater and his betrothed.

Presently, the parties met, and Lord Widdrington exclaimed:

“I am greatly rejoiced to see both of you safe and sound, for we began
to fear that something must have happened.”

“Something very extraordinary _has_ happened,” rejoined Lord
Derwentwater.

“Your lordship will scarcely credit me when I tell you that I have been
lost in a cavern underneath Dunstan-borough Castle,” said Anna.

“Lost in a cavern!” exclaimed Lord Widdrington in astonishment. “How
came that to pass?”

“You shall hear,” she replied. “I was left by myself for a short time
near the castle--Lord Derwentwater having ridden off to bring me another
horse, my own having got injured by a fall--when I thought I would take
a peep at the ruins which were close at hand. Foolishly acting upon the
impulse, I flew thither--meaning to get back in a few minutes--and never
stopped till I got into the court. After gazing at Queen Margaret’s
Tower and Lilburne’s Tower, I looked round the walls, when my eye fell
upon a cavity at a little distance from me. Within the hollow was a
flight of steps, leading, as I fancied, to some vault or dungeon, and
prompted by curiosity, I hastily descended them. The steps brought me to
an arched passage, and still under the influence of curiosity I ventured
on, and soon found that other passages branched off on the right
and left. Into one of these I turned and advanced a few yards, and
inadvertently stepping forward--for I could now see nothing--slipped
down a rapid descent, that landed me in what I knew to be a spacious
cavern. At first, I was not so much alarmed, because I fancied I could
extricate myself from the difficulty. But I could not remount the place
down which I had fallen, and being now greatly frightened, I endeavoured
to find another exit. But the attempt was fruitless. My outstretched
hand only encountered a wall of rock, and I soon became so perplexed and
confused that I could not even find my way back to the spot I had just
quitted.”

“A terrible position to be placed in!” exclaimed Lord Widdrington. “I
wonder you have recovered so soon from the effects of the fright.”

“I thought I should have sunk at the time,” she rejoined. “But
fortunately my spirits supported me. I addressed a prayer to Saint
Anna, and then felt easier. But deliverance did not come so soon as I
expected, and there was an interval of dreadful suspense. You seemed
long--long in coming,” she added to Lord Derwent-water. “Ah! when I
heard your voice, I knew I was saved.”

“And your response gave me new life,” he said; “for hope was almost
extinct within my breast. That cavern was the last place I searched, for
though I had noticed the stone steps, I never thought you would venture
down them.”

“I can guess all the rest,” said Lord Widdrington. “It must have been a
joyful meeting.”

“The adventure was not an agreeable one,” said Anna. “But it has tested
his lordship’s affection for me. However, I promise to be more careful
in future.”

“Yes, you have had a pretty good lesson, and will do well to profit by
it,” said Lord Widdrington.

“My unlucky steed is to blame for it all,” she cried. “Had he not
stumbled, nothing would have happened.”

“You have left him at Dunstanborough, I suppose?” observed Lord
Widdrington.

“Yes, in charge of your groom,” she replied. “Your lordship’s horse
carries me capitally.”

“Then pray use him as long as you will! And now let us on, and relieve
the anxiety of our friends.”

With this they quickened their pace, and made such good way that dinner
was not quite over when they reached Bamborough.

Great rejoicing was manifested on their appearance, and when Anna’s
adventure became known, the feeling rose to excitement. Dorothy could
not contain herself, but springing from her seat, rushed up to her
friend and embraced her.

We need scarcely say that under such unusual circumstances another
health was drunk, in addition to the grand toast, which was never
omitted.

A great deal of claret was generally drunk at Mr. Forster’s dinners, as
we have already remarked, and the custom would probably not have been
neglected on the present occasion if the prince had not risen early
from table, and proceeded to the drawing-room, where there was music and
singing.

The prince retired early, and proceeded to his lodgings in the old
fortress, attended by his host, Lord Derwent-water, Lord Widdrington,
and several others. It chanced to be a fine moonlight night, and the
appearance of the massive keep, partly lighted up by the beams, partly
in shadow, was so striking, that his highness remained for some time
contemplating the massive pile.

He then mounted the walls to gaze at the sea, which was brilliantly
illumined--a broad track of light leading across its unruffled surface
to the Fame Islands, and producing a truly magical effect.

Scarcely able to tear himself away from this bewitching scene, the
prince, at last, bade his attendants good night, and sought his chamber
in the tower.

Though no real danger was apprehended, unwonted precautions were taken
for his security. The gates were barred, and watch was kept upon the
walls throughout the night.

Colonel Oxburgh and his companions were prepared to act on any sudden
emergency, and the colonel had arranged his plans with the two nobles,
who had likewise decided upon passing the night in the castle.



VII.--AN ALARM.

|Morning came, and nothing had occurred to cause alarm.

The prince slept soundly in the tower, and was up betimes, and, on the
walls, enjoying the view, and inhaling the fresh sea-breeze. So well
pleased was he that the thought that he must speedily quit the castle
pained him.

But he did not delude himself with the idea, that, strong as was the
fortress, it would be possible to maintain it against a regular attack.
Flight, therefore, was his only alternative. A vessel must be procured
to convey him to France--and this must be accomplished without delay.

Accordingly, when Lord Derwentwater and Lord Wid-drington joined him,
he made known his wishes to them. They both endeavoured to dissuade him
from his purpose, but, finding him resolved, Lord Widdrington undertook
to proceed forthwith to Berwick-upon-Tweed, and make all necessary
arrangements.

“I have many friends at Berwick--some of them partisans of your
majesty,” said Lord Widdrington; “and I doubt not I shall be able to
hire a small vessel to convey you to Dunquerque, but it may perhaps be
necessary for you to embark from Holy Island, or the Fame Islands, but
this will depend, in some measure, on the master of the ship. As soon
as I have succeeded in making an arrangement I will return, and let your
majesty know what I have done.”

“I should like to start to-night,” said the prince.

“That is allowing very short time for preparation, my liege,” replied
Lord Widdrington. “But I will do my best to carry out your majesty’s
wishes.”

“I am sorry to give your lordship so much trouble,” said the prince.
“But I know you make light of it in your zealous desire to serve me.”

“That is perfectly true, my liege,” rejoined Lord Widdrington. “I only
regret that I cannot give stronger proof of my devotion. I heartily wish
your majesty would stay where you are, but since you are determined to
leave us, I will do my best to expedite your departure.”

As he bent before the prince, the latter passed his arms affectionately
round his neck and bade him adieu.

In less than ten minutes the loyal noble, though greatly disliking his
mission, was speeding along the road to Berwick-upon-Tweed, followed by
a groom.

The early part of the day passed without any incident worth narrating.
The prince did not quit the castle, but breakfasted in his tower, and,
later on, visited the keep attended by Lord Derwentwater and the two
young ladies, and thus obtained a more perfect notion than he had
hitherto formed of the strength of King Ida’s castle.

From the summit of the lofty structure he looked down upon the islands
that studded the sea in front of him, and was amazed by the multitude of
sea-birds that covered their rocks and precipices, and occasionally rose
in clouds, uttering shrieks and cries that could be distinctly heard
where he stood.

The sea was calm now, but Anna described its terrific appearance in a
storm when tremendous waves were dashed against those rocks, and columns
of spray were thrown up through their fissures to a prodigious height.

The islands consisted of two groups, and the more distant of them seemed
entirely whitened by sea-birds. The Home Island, as the nearest of
the Fame Islands is designated, is not much more than a mile from the
mainland, and on that bright, sunshiny day looked close at hand. Dorothy
pointed out Prior Castell’s Tower, which served as a beacon.

While the prince was examining the little bay almost shut in by rocks
that formed an entrance to the Home Island, he observed a boat come
forth. It was large and roomy, strongly built and well calculated for
a rough sea, and seemed to contain a dozen men armed with muskets or
fowling-pieces.

The appearance of this boat and its crew excited some misgiving on the
part of those who watched it, especially when they found it was steering
direct for the castle.

Lord Derwentwater was preparing to descend to the court and give the
alarm, when the boat, which had now got within a quarter of a mile of
the shore, suddenly changed its course, and turned off on the left.

Its movements were anxiously watched in the apprehension that the men
might be landed, but it went on, and after rounding Beadnell Point was
lost to view. The prince then breathed more freely.

“I thought those men were about to attack the castle,” he said. “But it
seems they had no such design.”

“I am not so sure of that, my liege,” observed Lord Derwentwater. “They
were evidently reconnoitring the place, but something caused them to
change their plans, and steer off. Yet a rumour that your majesty is
here can scarcely have reached yonder remote island.”

“The island is not so remote as your lordship supposes,” remarked
Dorothy. “Boats are constantly passing to and fro over the Fairway, as
the strait is called, and it is highly probable the islanders have heard
the news. But I should have thought they were more likely to aid his
majesty than to attack him.”

“They may be stimulated by the hope of a reward,” said the prince. “But
be that as it may, I am glad they have given up the attempt.”

“We may have another visit from them, so it will be well to be on our
guard,” observed Lord Derwentwater. “Next time they may approach by
land.”

“I shall be glad when our carriage arrives,” said Anna. “I hope no
accident has occurred.”

“You need not be uneasy,” said Derwentwater. “Sir John and Lady Webb
would probably pass the night at Morpeth, and in that case they could
not be here till late in the afternoon.”

Just then a noise was heard at the entrance to the roof of the keep,
and Lord Widdrington made his appearance, accompanied by Mr. Forster and
Colonel Oxburgh.

Everybody seemed surprised to see his lordship, and no one more so than
the prince.

“What! so soon returned from Berwick?” exclaimed his highness. “Have you
succeeded in your errand?”

“Perfectly, my liege,” replied Lord Widdrington. “I have hired a sloop
now in Berwick harbour, which was to sail this evening for London. But I
have induced Captain Hawker of the _Saint Abbs_, as the sloop is called,
to alter his plan. In a word, he has engaged to take your majesty to
Dunquerque.”

“You have rendered me a great service,” said the prince. “But where am I
to go on board the sloop?--at Berwick?”

“No, my liege,” replied Lord Widdrington. “Since there is almost a
certainty of fine weather, Captain Hawker will weigh anchor at nine
o’clock, and fire a gun to let you know when he gets off the castle.”

The prince signified his approval of the arrangement.

“A boat shall be ready to take you to the sloop, so that your majesty
may embark immediately,” said Forster.

Again the prince expressed his satisfaction, but he asked Mr. Forster if
he had noticed the boat containing the armed men, that had crossed the
Fairway, apparently to reconnoitre the castle.

“Those men were only fishermen, my liege,” replied the squire. “I felt
sure they would move off, and so they did. It is not by those poor
fellows that your majesty’s departure will be hindered.”



VIII.--HOW THE SHERIFF AND HIS TROOP WERE CARED FOR.

|Early in the morning, Captain Wogan with his brother, and Mr. Talbot
and his brother, set forth on horseback to patrol the country, and
proceeded towards Dunstan-borough, stationing themselves at various
points commanding the road.

They did not return till late in the afternoon, and then they brought no
alarming intelligence. There were no signs whatever of the approach of
the enemy. They had seen Sir John Webb’s carriage in the distance, but
it came on so slowly that they had not waited for it.

Half an hour afterwards the carriage arrived, and then the prince learnt
what had happened and was greatly amused by Sir John’s description of
the arrest made by the sheriff.

It appeared that the supposed royal prisoner was taken to Newcastle,
where the mistake was quickly discovered, and the man set at liberty.
Sir John was likewise allowed to proceed on his journey.

“The sheriff was very much mortified by the great blunder he had made,”
 remarked Sir John. “But I don’t think he will give up the pursuit, and I
fear your majesty may expect a visit from him at Bamborough.”

“I hope I shall be gone before he makes his appearance,” said the
prince. “To-night I set sail for France.”

“Since such is the case, I have only to wish your majesty a safe and
speedy voyage,” said Sir John. “And I sincerely trust nothing may occur
to interfere with your departure.”

A plan to be adopted in the event of any sudden emergency having been
decided upon, the prince agreed to dine at the mansion, and the whole
of the party assembled as before, with the addition of Sir John and Lady
Webb.

All the servants had received their orders, so no apprehension was
entertained of a surprise. The prince was not in very good spirits, and
Dorothy, who sat next to him, did her best to cheer him.

The repast was about half over, when a servant hastily entered the room,
and informed his master that the sheriff had arrived with a large posse
of men.

On this the prince immediately arose, and in pursuance of the plan
previously arranged passed through a window into the garden, where a
servant was waiting to conduct him by a private entrance to the castle.
No one else attended his highness.

The company remained at table; the prince’s chair being instantly
removed, and the vacancy filled up. All this was the work of a few
moments.

Shortly afterwards, the sheriff was ushered into the room, and seemed
greatly surprised by the sight of so large a party, for which he was
evidently unprepared.

While he was hesitating what to do, Mr. Forster arose, and greeting him
in a friendly manner, said:

“I hope you are come to dine with me, Sir William. I shall be very glad
of your company, I assure you.”

“But I have business of importance, sir,” cried the sheriff.

“We will discuss that after dinner,” said Forster.

“I am very sorry to interrupt you, sir, but----”

“Nay, I will take no refusal,” cried Forster, leading him to the table.

At a sign from Forster a chair was then brought, and placed next his
own, and the sheriff was almost forced into it.

Jesmond, who had entered the dining-room at the same time as his
superior officer, stationed himself behind the chair, wondering what
would happen next, but not venturing to interfere.

“What will you take, Sir William--some venison? There is a fine haunch
at the other end of the table.”

“You ought to take a prisoner, Sir William,” whispered Desmond.

“So I will presently,” replied the sheriff in the same tone. “But I will
begin with the venison. Is the Pretender here?”

“I don’t see him, Sir William,” replied the official, looking round
inquisitively at the guests. “But I can’t quite distinguish the features
of the persons at the bottom of the table. Stay! there is some one
rather like him next to Sir John Webb.”

“Be quite sure you are right,” said the sheriff. “It won’t do to make a
second mistake.”

Meantime, the venison was brought, and proved so good that the sheriff
made no objection to a few more slices. At the same time he very readily
accepted Mr. Forster’s challenge to a glass of claret.

He was now in a much better humour, and partook of several other dishes,
and repeatedly emptied the goblet which was constantly replenished by
the butler.

The generous wine did its duty, and he almost forgot his errand. He
had no one now to remind him of it, for Jesmond had been lured to the
sideboard by the butler, and a flask of claret proffered him. He did not
decline the attention. Since his chief was enjoying himself he did not
see why he should not follow his example.

But it was not merely Mr. Forster who was attentive in the extreme to
his unwelcome guest. Lord Derwentwater and Lord Widdrington, with both
of whom Sir William Lorraine was well acquainted, though political and
religious differences kept them apart--these two proud nobles, we say,
quite unbent, and were excessively complaisant, inviting him to take
wine, and conversing very familiarly with him.

Sir John Webb pursued the same course, and as he drank a glass of wine
with the sheriff, he gave him a knowing look, just to remind him of the
recent adventure. Sir William laughed very good-humouredly.

Thus the dinner went on, and the sheriff became yet more cheerful,
as was naturally to be expected, for he had now drunk a good deal of
claret.

With the removal of the cloth, the ladies disappeared, for they knew
what was likely to occur, and then an immense bowl of punch was placed
before the host for the delectation of such as preferred that pleasant
beverage to claret.

Unfortunately for himself, Sir William yielded to the seduction. At
that precise juncture he meant to have assumed an authoritative air,
preparatory to carrying out the business that brought him thither; but a
bumper of punch caused him to postpone it to a later moment.

Jesmond was no longer there to watch over him, and incite him by his
observations.

That vigilant official had been taken to the butler’s pantry, where he,
too, had his share--somewhat more than his share of a strong bowl of
punch. Punch was his weakness, as well as that of the sheriff, and he
found the temptation irresistible.

It must not be supposed that while their leader was thus cared for, the
yeomen were neglected. On the contrary they were very well attended to.
They were told that the sheriff had ordered them to dismount, and they
very readily obeyed. Their horses were accommodated in the squire’s
roomy stables, and they themselves were conducted to the spacious
servant’s hall, where all that was left--and it was no slight matter--of
the abundant dinner was set before them, together with as much strong
ale as they chose to drink. They were not served with punch, like their
betters, but they were offered usquebaugh, and we may be sure they did
not refuse the stimulating liquor, which nearly resembled whisky, pretty
freely.



IX.--THE PRINCE’S PARTING INJUNCTIONS TO LORD DERWENTWATER AND ANNA.

|On quitting the dining-room before the scene of revelry commenced,
the ladies left the mansion to its noisy occupants, and repaired to the
castle--gaining admittance in the same manner as the prince. They found
his highness in the guardroom alone, pacing to and fro. He questioned
them eagerly as to how all was going on.

“The scheme has completely succeeded,” said Lady Webb. “In two hours’
time--if they go on as they are now doing--the sheriff and his party
will be quite incapable of offering any opposition to your majesty’s
departure. As to their attacking the castle, that is quite out of the
question.”

“Your majesty may depend that my brother will take good care of your
chief enemy,” said Dorothy. “The others will be entertained in the
servants’ hall--so well entertained that they are not likely to stir
till your majesty is safe on board the _Saint Abbs._”

“Excellent!” cried the prince. “Good wine has never been turned to
better account than on the present occasion. I own I doubted the success
of the scheme, but I did not know the habits of my Northumbrian lieges
so well as Mr. Forster. The sheriff appears to have fallen very easily
into the snare.”

“He was skilfully dealt with,” laughed Anna; “caught before he knew what
he was about.”

After a little further discourse, they came forth into the court,
where they continued till such time as it began to grow dark, when they
mounted the outer walls, and gazed at the dusky, yet glimmering expanse
spread out before them.

The tide was coming in, and they could distinguish the white line formed
by the waves, and hear their sound as they broke upon the shore.

As had been anticipated, the night was fine, and the wind favourable
for the prince’s voyage. Already, the beacon had been lighted on Prior
Castell’s Tower, so that the position of the rocky islands could be
discerned. As far as could be made out, there were no ships or smaller
craft in the Fairway.

The boat destined for the prince was lying upon the beach, but could be
easily pushed into sea, and two men were standing near it.

Having made these observations, the prince and the ladies with him
returned to the basement court where they found Lord Derwentwater and
Lord Widdrington.

The tidings brought by the two nobles were highly satisfactory. No fear
now of any interruption from the sheriff. He was discussing a second
bowl of punch with Mr. Forster, and when that was finished, a third
would be brought in. His followers were equally well employed. So
much boisterous merriment was going on in the house, Lord Derwentwater
declared, that he was right glad to escape from it.

Under these circumstances, and since no interference could be expected,
the prince determined to repair at once to the beach and there await the
signal from the ship.

All his slight preparations for the voyage being conflicted he had only
to bid adieu to his fair companions; for the two nobles, of course,
would not quit him till the last moment. But the ladies were equally
desirous to attend him, and he could not refuse their request.

So the whole party quitted the castle by the private entrance, and
followed by the gate-porter carrying the prince’s valise proceeded
towards the shore.

The night was dark, as already stated, but the windows of the mansion
were lighted up, and the din of merriment resounded from within. The
noise was welcome to the prince, as it convinced him that his enemies
were occupied.

Lord Widdrington guided the party through the heaps of sand collected
at the foot of the lofty rock on which stood the fortress, until they
gained the beach.

It was now nearly high water, and only a strip of sand intervened
between the sea and the rock. But the boat was still lying where the
prince had descried it from above, and the men were close beside it
awaiting orders.

It was then that the prince addressed a few parting words to Lord
Derwentwater and his betrothed.

“When I come back, and I mean to come back soon,” he said, “I trust I
shall find that the contract which I witnessed has been followed by
a yet more binding ceremony, and that two persons in whom I take the
deepest interest have been for ever united in the silken bonds of
matrimony by our Holy Church. Do not delay. When a matter like this has
been settled, the sooner it is carried out the better.”

“There shall be no delay on my part--that I promise your majesty,” said
Lord Derwentwater.

“And none on yours, I trust, fair lady?”

“None,” she replied, but in accents so low that they were scarce heard
above the sound of the waves as they flowed within a few yards of them.

“All then will go well,” said the prince. “May our next merry meeting be
at Dilston! where the lovely bride, as well as her noble consort, will,
I am certain, give me a hearty welcome.”

“That I will, my gracious liege, most assuredly, if I am there,” she
rejoined.

“If you are not there, I won’t enter the castle,” said the prince. “But
find you I shall--or there is no truth in man or woman.”

“Nay, my liege, I only meant that you may perchance return before the
marriage has been solemnised.”

“Have I not said that it must not be delayed?” rejoined the prince. “I
now lay my command upon you both to that effect, and I trust I shall not
be disobeyed.”

“I will take care that your majesty’s injunctions are fulfilled,” said
Lady Webb.

“With that assurance I shall depart in better humour with myself than
I should have done otherwise,” said the prince. “My voyage has not been
altogether fruitless. If I have not succeeded in my own design I have
helped a dear friend to a charming wife--and that is something.”

Just then, a flash of light was seen in the Fairway, and next moment
the sound of a gun was heard; the loud report being echoed by the rocks
behind the party.



X.--THE ESCAPE.

|All eyes were turned in the direction whence the sound had come, and
a single masted vessel could be imperfectly distinguished, about half a
mile off.

“‘Tis the sloop!” exclaimed Lord Widdrington.

“Yes, I am summoned, and must go,” cried the prince. “Farewell!
Farewell!”

On hearing the signal, the two men instantly pushed down the boat into
the water. All was ready, for the valise had been previously placed
inside it by the porter, together with a couple of firelocks.

It had been arranged that the two nobles should accompany the prince to
the sloop. Accordingly they entered the boat with him.

As the bark quitted the strand, the prince stood up to wave an adieu to
the ladies--but they were soon lost to sight.

Rowed by two strong men, the boat made good way towards the sloop,
and it seemed would soon reach her, when an unlooked-for interruption
occurred.

A dark object was seen lying directly in their course, and as there
could be no doubt it was a boat, much larger than their own, they turned
aside to avoid it.

As they did so, the larger boat was put in motion, with the evident
design of giving chase, while a loud authoritative voice called out to
the occupants of the small bark to stop.

As may be imagined, the order was entirely disregarded while Lord
Widdrington urged the oarsmen to pull their hardest for the ship, and
they made such exertion that they appeared to gain on their pursuers.

Of the purpose of the latter no doubt could now be entertained. It was
certain they were endeavouring to intercept the prince’s flight, and
effect his capture. How they had obtained information could only be
surmised, but they had laid their plans well. The prince’s companions
were greatly alarmed, but he himself maintained perfect composure.

“‘Tis the boat I beheld this morning from the castle walls,” he said. “I
felt sure it meant mischief, though Mr. Forster thought otherwise. The
men within it are armed.”

“Luckily, we have arms,” said Lord Derwentwater, giving Lord Widdrington
one of the muskets and keeping the other himself. “Shall we use them?”

“Certainly,” replied the prince. “I will never surrender to those men.”

A conflict, indeed, appeared inevitable, if they were overtaken, for a
voice called out from the larger boat:

“Stop! or we will fire.”

As no notice was taken of the threat, except that the rowers redoubled
their efforts, a shot was fired, and a bullet whistled past the prince’s
head, but without doing any injury.

Exasperated by the audacious act the two nobles discharged their
muskets, and with good effect, as was shown by the outcries that
followed.

Evidently a couple of men were wounded, and great confusion was caused
among the rest.

In consequence of this they lost way, and the distance between the boats
was perceptibly increased.

However, they soon recovered, and continued the chase with fresh ardour,
again shouting to the fugitives to stop.

“Stand off, villains, or we will fire again!” cried Lord Derwentwater.
“What do you mean by molesting us thus?”

“We want the Pretender, and will have him,” rejoined the voice that
had first spoken. “You had best deliver him up quietly. He shall not
escape.”

Though very well inclined to answer this insolent speech by a shot, Lord
Derwentwater forbore, but the pursuers again fired, and this time one
of the rowers was hit in the arm, so that he could not pull at the oars,
whereupon, Lord Widdrington took his place.

But the change, though quickly effected, caused some little delay, and
the pursuers gained upon them.

An encounter now seemed imminent, and since the prince was determined
not to yield, it might be fraught with most serious consequences.

To avert these if possible, Lord Derwentwater shouted lustily to attract
the attention of the captain of the sloop which was now not more than a
furlong off.

Captain Hawker was already on the alert, and prepared to render
assistance. The firing had shown him the relative position of the boats,
and comprehending exactly how matters stood, he thought it high time to
interfere.

Putting a speaking-trumpet, therefore, to his mouth, he roared out:

“Sheer off, or I’ll sink you!”

The warning reached the ears for which it was intended, but produced no
effect.

The men went on, as boldly as ever, determined not to be baulked of
their prey.

However, they were speedily checked, for Captain Hawker turned a
swivel-gun upon them and sent a shot through the bottom of their boat,
which began presently to fill, and compelled them to look to their own
safety.

Being now disembarrassed from his pursuers, the prince got safely on
board the sloop, after taking an affectionate leave of his friends.

Their duty being now performed, the two nobles returned to Bamborough
Castle without concerning themselves further about their pursuers, whose
vociferations proved they were still afloat, and able no doubt, in some
way or other, to reach the Home Island.

The sheriff had still to be dealt with, but now that the prince was safe
they had little fear of him.

Free from all peril, the sloop, with its important burden, passed
tranquilly through the Fairway, and entered the open sea.

END OF BOOK THE SECOND.



_BOOK THE THIRD_--THE INSURRECTION IN SCOTLAND.

[Illustration: 0096]



I.--THE HUNTING IN BRAEMAR.

|Not till the accession of George the First did the general insurrection
take place, for which the partisans of the Pretender had been preparing
so long.

During the latter years of Anne, who was so much and so deservedly
beloved by the people, the Jacobites had remained quiescent, believing
that in the political crises certain to arise on the queen’s death, the
Chevalier de Saint George would be called to the throne.

Disappointed in this expectation, they determined not to tolerate a rule
adverse to the religion of the majority, and hateful to all.

In the year 1715, at which date we shall resume our story, a formidable
plot spread throughout England and Scotland, causing the greatest alarm
to the Government by the avowed intention of the conspirators to depose
the reigning monarch, whom they described as a tyrannous usurper, and
restore the ancient sovereignty.

Aware of the designs of his enemies, King George made an appeal to the
Nation, in which he said, that after his solemn assurances, and the
opportunities he had taken to do everything that might tend to benefit
the Church of England, it was unjust and ungrateful to doubt him, and
he refused to believe that the people could be so far misled by false
representations as to desire to place a Popish Pretender on the throne.

In an address to his majesty by the Lord Mayor, James the Third was
denounced as an impostor, who proposed to govern the kingdom by
Popish maxims, while the High Church Tories, who were regarded as the
Pretender’s main supporters in England, and more dangerous than the
Roman Catholics themselves, were stigmatised as “Nonresisting rebels,
passive-obedience rioters, abjuring Jacobites, and Frenchified
Englishmen; monsters, whom no age or country ever produced till now.”

The first movements of the Jacobites were checked by the death of Louis
the Fourteenth, and the appointment of the Duke of Orleans as Regent;
thus precluding any hope of immediate assistance from France, as had
been previously calculated upon, since the Regent, on assuming the
government, had at once entered into friendly relations with George the
First.

Notwithstanding this unpropitious circumstance, the Chevalier de Saint
George, who felt that his position had become critical, sent orders to
the Earl of Mar and some others of his adherents that a general rising
should take place without delay.

The prince’s command was promptly obeyed by the Earl of Mar, who
embarked in disguise in a coal-sloop at Gravesend, accompanied by
Major-General Hamilton and Colonel John Hay, brother of the Earl of
Kinnoul. Eventually the earl and his companions reached Braemar Castle
in Aberdeenshire in safety.

The forests of Braemar were celebrated for red deer, and under the
pretext of a grand hunting-match, the earl invited all the principal
Scottish nobles, and chiefs of clans, whom he knew to be opposed to the
Union, and attached to the Stewarts. His list of guests included the
Marquis of Huntly, eldest son of the Duke of Gordon, the Marquis of
Tullibardine, eldest son of the Duke of Athole; the Earls of Nithsdale,
Marischal, Traquaire, Errol, Southesk, Carnwath, Seaforth, Linlithgow,
and Panmure, with nearly a dozen others. Among the chiefs of clans were
Glengarry, Campbell of Glendarule, and Mackintosh. They well knew why
they were invited, and came attended by numerous followers.

It was a grand sight to see all these nobles and chiefs in full Highland
costume, and attended by their vassals and retainers, likewise in
Highland dress, and all carrying guns upon the shoulder, assembled in
front of the castle, preparatory to setting out on the hunt. With them
were several couples of large deer-hounds held in leash by the huntsmen.

No one was better pleased with the sight than the Earl of Mar. Such a
goodly attendance augured well for the cause.

Full of glee, and expecting famous sport, the hunting party set out for
a defile in the forest into which they knew the deer would be driven.
Here the terrified animals were found, and great slaughter was made
among them.

The rest of the day was devoted to feasting and carousing. Much venison
was eaten--much wine drunk. Nor were the vassals neglected--but fared as
well as their lords. As they could not, however, be accommodated in the
castle, they found a couch amid the heather.

Early next day, the party again set out for the defile, and a repetition
of the previous scene of slaughter took place.

But as soon as the hunt was over, the nobles and chiefs attended by
their vassals repaired to a rendezvous agreed upon in the forest, where
they found the Earl of Mar with General Hamilton and Colonel Hay.

When the entire party had assembled, the earl mounted upon a fragment of
rock, jutting from the turf, and addressed them.

===He told them that the honour and independence of Scotland were at
stake, and that all true Scotsmen who prized their liberty, must fly to
arms to deliver their beloved country from the oppression under which it
groaned, and restore their deeply-wronged sovereign to the throne, now
occupied by the tyrannous Hanoverian Usurper. The Union--that bane of
Scotland--must be abolished. Bitterly did he regret that he had ever
countenanced the hateful measure, but he would make amends by helping to
effect its dissolution. But they must not stop there. Scotland had many
other grievances, all of which would be redressed when their rightful
king was restored--and restored he should be soon.

On this, an extraordinary scene ensued. All the nobles and chiefs
clustered around the speaker, drew their claymores, and their example
being instantly followed by the vassals, more than two hundred broad
swords flashed in the sun.

At the same time shouts were heard of “No Union!”

“Down with the Hanoverian Usurper!”

“Long live King James the Eighth!”

Pausing till the shouting was over, the Earl of Mar then went on.

“Thousands,” he said, “in England, as well as in Scotland, are leagued
together to accomplish the end we have in view, and only wait the
signal to rise, which will now be given them. Material assistance may be
expected from France. The Duke of Ormond and Lord Bolingbroke have gone
to Paris to induce the Regent to supply us with men and arms, and they
hope to return with a French fleet. Furthermore, the Duke of Berwick has
engaged to make a descent upon our western coast, with a large force.”

“The Duke of Berwick’s name would counterbalance that of Marlborough,”
 said the Marquis of Huntly. “But we must not count upon the great
Marshal of France till he has landed. Neither must we depend upon the
fleet to be brought by Ormond and Bolingbroke. These are doubtful. But
we can confidently rely upon our English allies.”

“Have the Northumbrian Jacobites yet risen?” inquired the Marquis of
Tullibardine.

“They are on the eve of rising,” replied the Earl of Mar. “All the
disaffected gentlemen throughout the kingdom are ready for action.”

“Lord Derwentwater, I presume, will take the command of the Northumbrian
force?” observed the Earl of Nithsdale.

“He is the fittest to do so,” replied the Earl of Mar. “But Forster
of Bamborough, who is a High Church Tory, will probably be preferred.
Forster is very popular with his party, and as the Tories are more
influential with the commonalty in England than the Roman Catholics, we
must have them heartily with us.”

“Lord Derwentwater resembles a Cavalier of Charles the First’s time,”
 observed Lord Nithsdale. “I should like to see him at the head of a
division.”

“And so should I,” said the Earl of Mar. “But it cannot be for the
reasons I have just mentioned. Neither he nor Lord Widdrington must have
a command.”

The Marquis of Huntly then addressed the assemblage, and told them
that before proceeding further, it would be necessary to appoint a
Commander-in-Chief of the Scottish Forces, by which thenceforward the
war could be conducted.

“I cannot doubt,” he said, “on whom your choice will fall.”

“The Earl of Mar,” responded a hundred voices; “the Earl of Mar must be
our commander-in-chief.”

And again the swords were waved.

“I am proud, indeed, to be thus unanimously chosen,” said the earl. “I
consent to hold the post for the Duke of Berwick, to whom I shall at
once relinquish it. What I lack in military skill and experience will be
supplied by veteran warriors, one of whom I rejoice to see here.”

And as he spoke he directed his glance towards a lofty figure, standing
at the outskirts of the assemblage.

So tall was this personage, who, like all the others was arrayed in full
Highland costume, that he towered almost head and shoulders above those
in front of him, and of course could easily be distinguished.

“‘Tis Brigadier Mackintosh to whom I specially alluded,” said the earl.
“He has had sufficient experience, for he has served, and with the
greatest distinction, in Holland, Ireland, and France. I shall have a
word to say to him anon.”

Then addressing the Marquis of Huntly, he said:

“I would not deprive myself of the great satisfaction your lordship
has just given me, but I must mention that I had previously received a
commission from King James, appointing me his lieutenant-general.”

And taking a letter from his breast, he placed it in his lordship’s
hands.

“This confirms our choice,” said the marquis, after reading the letter
aloud, amid great applause, and reiterated expressions of satisfaction
from the assemblage.

“My first step,” said the earl, when silence was restored, “shall be to
set up the standard at Castletown, and proclaim King James. The
Fiery Cross shall then be sent round to summon the clans to war. My
headquarters will be fixed at Dunkeld.”

“Within a month I will join you there with three thousand men,” said the
Earl of Searforth.

“Your arrival will be impatiently expected, my lord,” said Mar. “But by
that time I hope to be in possession of Perth. How many men will your
father, the Duke of Athole, give us, marquis?” he added to Tullibardine.

“Very few, in comparison with Lord Seaforth,” replied the other. “But I
will bring all I can.”

“The duke, I know, is lukewarm in the cause,” said Mar. “But since both
his sons are pledged, there can be no fear of him.”

“None whatever,” replied Lord Charles Murray, the Duke of Athole’s
younger son.

Promises of substantial aid were then given by the Earls of Southesk,
Panmure, and other nobles, and by the chiefs Glengarry, and Gordon of
Glendarule.

Last of all came Colonel Mackintosh, head of the powerful Clan Chattan.
He engaged to raise six or seven hundred well-disciplined Highlanders,
but stipulated that his kinsman, Brigadier Mackintosh of Borluni, should
have the command of the regiment.

“Be it so, colonel, since you desire it,” said Mar. “But I have a more
important command for your brave kinsman. Tell Brigadier Mackintosh that
I desire to speak to him,” he added to Colonel Hay.

On hearing this order, those who were grouped around retired to a little
distance, and a vacant space was thus left for the old Highland warrior.



II.--BRIGADIER MACKINTOSH OF BORLUM.

|A VERY remarkable person was Brigadier Mackintosh, Laird of Borlum, and
since he is destined to play a conspicuous part in our story, it may be
proper to describe him.

The redoubted Laird of Borlum, then, was an old campaigner, having
served in Holland years ago, in Ireland under James the Second, where he
gained laurels, but little pay, and in France, where he had attained the
rank of brigadier, which he still held. Devotedly attached to James the
Second, on the death of that monarch, he had transferred all his loyalty
to his son. The Chevalier de Saint George had no more zealous adherent
than the brave Laird of Borlum.

Brigadier Mackintosh, when we first behold him, standing beside the Earl
of Mar, who had quitted his elevated position on the rock to talk to
him, could not be far from sixty. Yet despite the hardships he had
undergone, he had few traces of age about him. His step was free, his
glance piercing, his muscular power prodigious, and he could still run
as fleetly, and endure as much fatigue as the youngest of his clan.

His personal appearance was very striking--features strongly marked and
prominent, high cheek bones, a very firmly set mouth, and square chin.
His eyes were grey and keen, and shaded by black brows, though his locks
were blanched. His close-shaven cheeks were marked by many a scar.

The brigadier’s expression was cautious, perhaps crafty, and sometimes
so grim as to inspire terror. But on occasions his habitual sternness
disappeared, and gave way to a winning _bonhomie_. Though a rigorous
disciplinarian, he had always been liked by those who served under him.
His enemies said that the brigadier did not object to plunder, and
that his maxim was that war should pay its own expenses; but this was a
principle pretty generally recognised by the Highlanders of the period.

“Why have you kept aloof, brigadier?” asked the earl.

“Because your lordship has others of mair importance to attend to than
an auld trooper, who has only his sword to offer you.”

“Hout awa! your sword is worth a thousand men, brigadier, and that ye
ken fu’ weel. You are the man of all others I must have with me, heart
and hand.”

“I am a man of few words as your lordship kens--I am ready to do your
bidding.”

“Aweel then, your kinsman, Colonel Mackintosh, has promised to raise a
regiment of six or seven hundred Highland men.”

“And so wad I, if I could only find the callants. But they are few and
far to seek at Borlum.”

“What say you to taking the command of the Clan Chattan?”

“That belongs to our chief, unless----”

“He chooses to resign it to another, and I approve his choice. Will you
take it?”

“Gladly,” replied the brigadier, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction.
“Is this a’ your lordship has to say to me, at present?”

“Ye are in a confounded hurry,” cried the earl, detaining him. “Hear me
to an end.”

“My lord, I am all attention.”

“When all our forces have assembled, a strong detachment, to consist of
five or six regiments, will be sent south to march with the Lowlanders
and the Northumbrian insurgents to London. You shall command the
detachment. If any man can make a rapid march, you can, brigadier. Long
before you reach London, you will have a considerable army, for you are
certain to receive large reinforcements in every county through which
you pass--especially in Lancashire and Cheshire. You will, therefore, be
able to give battle to all the forces the Hanoverian usurper can bring
against you. Win that battle and the crown is gained for the prince.”

The brigadier drew his broadsword and kissed the hilt.

“I swear to devote myself to this enterprise!” he cried. “Turn back who
may, I never will!”

Thereupon he bowed and retired, looking greatly elated.



III.--HOW THE STANDARD WAS SET UP, AND KING JAMES PROCLAIMED AT
CASTLETOWN.

|SHORTLY afterwards the whole party proceeded to the castle, where a
grand banquet awaited them.

Even more wine was drunk on this occasion than on the previous day, and
the company vied with each other in demonstrations of loyalty.

But the crowning act, that was to confound their enemies and confirm
their friends, took place on the following day. The whole party
assembled after breakfast, but without hounds or huntsmen.

A dozen sturdy bagpipers made the court ring with their shrill strains,
announcing that the Earl of Mar was about to proceed to Castletown,
which was not more than a mile off, attended by all the nobles and
chiefs, and all their vassals and retainers, to set up the standard and
proclaim King James.

The principal personages were on horseback--the rest on foot. At the
head of the cavalcade was the Earl of Mar, and on his right rode Lord
Charles Murray, who carried the standard.

The standard, which made a very splendid appearance, and excited general
admiration, was of blue satin, embroidered on one side with the arms of
Scotland in gold. On the other side was a thistle, underneath which were
the words, “No Union.”

Pendants of white ribbon were attached to the banner: one of them bore
the inscription, “For our wronged king and oppressed country;” the
other, “For our lives and liberties.”

The pipers marched on in advance, playing vigorously.

The morning was fine, but gusty, and Craigendarroch seemed to frown upon
them. Several Highlanders joined the party as they marched on, and
some old men, barelegged women, young girls, and children followed at a
distance. But there were few inhabitants in that wild region.

On reaching Castletown, the cavalcade rode into the market-place, where
all the townsfolk were assembled, and the pipers, who had marched in
first and taken up a good position, played with redoubled vigour, while
the standard was set up on the market-cross.

A loud shout was then raised by the whole concourse, after which silence
was authoritatively enjoined, and, a trumpet being sounded, the Earl of
Mar read the proclamation in a loud clear voice that vibrated through
every breast.

“By the decease of the late King James the Seventh, the imperial crown
of these realms has lineally descended to his lawful heir and son our
sovereign James the Eighth, and we the lords and others do accordingly
declare him to be the lawful king over Scotland, England, and Ireland.
We are bound by unalienable right to his family and person, and it is
to be lamented that our fundamental constitution has been destroyed by
factions. The unhappy Union of Scotland and England is also to be deeply
lamented--with many other matters, such as the bringing in a foreign
prince unacquainted with British planners, customs, and language--the
support of his designs by foreign troops--and the contempt with which
the military services of British troops are treated. We are determined
to resort to the last extremities in order to remedy these grievances,
and have our laws, liberties, and properties secured by the Parliaments
of both kingdoms. In conclusion, we hope that, undisturbed by a
Usurper’s interests and council from abroad, or by a restless faction at
home, the blessing and aid of Heaven will be extended to the succour
of the Royal Family of Stuart and their country from sinking under
oppression.”

The foregoing manifesto produced a very powerful effect, and the whole
assemblage, having listened to it with profound attention, were about
to give vent to their feelings, when a circumstance occurred that filled
them all with superstitious terror.

By a sudden and violent gust, the silken banner was rent, and the gilded
ball blown from the point of the spear, and, falling at the feet of
Mar’s horse, caused the animal to rear.

The greatest consternation was occasioned by this inauspicious
occurrence.

Nothing but blanched faces were seen around, and the shouts died away
on every lip. Men shook their heads, and said it was ominous of ill, and
even Mar himself was not free from uneasiness.

“When King Charles the First’s standard was blown down at Nottingham,”
 observed Lord Charles Murray to Brigadier Mackintosh, “it was thought to
presage ill. What does this signify?”

The brigadier made no answer, but looked very grave.

The ill-omened incident cast a gloom over the party, from which they did
not recover as long as they stayed together.

On quitting Castletown, the nobles and chiefs took leave of their host,
and departed each to his respective home, to get together his men, and
make all needful preparations for taking the field.

Subsequently, King James was proclaimed at divers other places, and once
again by the Earl of Mar at Kirk-michael, near Dumfries.

Meanwhile, the whole of the Highlands were literally in a flame---the
Fiery Cross having been sent round in every direction to summon the
clans. Such vassals as neglected the mandate of their chief conveyed by
this terrible sign--a cross, dipped in blood, and burning--were liable
to the penalty of fire and sword. Rarely was the summons disobeyed, and
never unpunished, until the passing of the Clan Act by the Government.

Returning slowly from Dumfries, at the head of a thousand men--more than
half of whom had joined him on the way--the Earl of Mar found his camp
pitched by Colonel Hamilton and Clephane of Carslogie, in a beautiful
situation on the side of the Tay.

Soon afterwards, such large reinforcements were brought him by the Earls
of Strathern, Southesk, Marischal, and Panmure, that he found himself at
the head of twelve thousand fighting men.

A most important achievement performed at this juncture by Colonel Hay
gave additional éclat to the insurgents. This gallant officer had often
boasted that he would capture Perth, and he now made good his word
by surprising the garrison, and enabling Mar to occupy the city.
Thenceforward Perth formed the head-quarters of the Scottish
commander-in-chief.

Alarmed by the rapid progress of the rebellion, the Government of King
George now began to take energetic measures for the repression of the
outbreak. The Duke of Argyle hastened to Stirling, where troops were
quickly concentrated, in order to keep the Highlanders in check, and
prevent them from crossing the Forth.

All Scottish noblemen or gentlemen, actually in arms, or suspected of
favouring the Pretender, were summoned to appear forthwith in Edinburgh,
and find bail for their future good conduct. But very few surrendered
themselves. Most of them were eager to take the field, and displeased
that Mar did not give battle to Argyle, before further succours could
reach him at Stirling.

The Scottish commander-in-chief hesitated, though Colonel Hay and others
of his advisers remonstrated with him. He had just received a letter
from Mr. Forster, praying him to send a couple of regiments to help them
to make a rising in Northumberland. This request he was quite willing to
grant--indeed, he did more than was asked. He immediately sent off the
detachment, which he had prepared to march through England, under the
command of Brigadier Mackintosh.

END OF BOOK THE THIRD.



_BOOK THE FOURTH_--THE RISING IN NORTHUMBERLAND.

[Illustration: 0110]



I.--DILSTON REVISITED.

|SINCE our last visit to Dilston Castle, the place had acquired a new
interest from the marriage of the young Earl of Derwentwater with the
beautiful Anna Webb.

The event occurred about three years previously, and was productive of
unalloyed happiness to the earl, who made it his entire study to please
his lovely wife. In his eyes her charms had improved, and as she was
scarcely two and twenty, she might not yet have attained the point of
perfection.

Mistress of this proud mansion and all belonging to it, adored by the
husband, who had raised her to this exalted position, the countess ought
to have been happy--and to all appearance she was so.

Yet were we to search her breast, we should find a secret sorrow there.
She had made every effort to banish the feeling, but without effect. The
consciousness that she had a secret from her husband troubled her,
but she dared not reveal it to him. Even to Father Norham, she had not
entirely laid bare her heart.

One day, when she was at confession in the small chamber, employed
for her private devotions, and which was furnished with an altar and a
crucifix, the good priest thus addressed her:

“I grieve to find, dear daughter, that you still keep back from the
Earl, your husband, the secret that has so long weighed upon your
breast. This ought not to be. He is entitled to your fullest confidence,
and any concealment from him even of a trivial matter is sinful.”

“I know it, father,” she replied; “and I ardently desire to relieve my
breast of its burden by disclosing all to him, and am only deterred by
the fear of giving him pain.”

“Perhaps you are right, daughter,” said the priest, after some
reflection. “As no good purpose can be answered by this disclosure,
and it is possible it might cause temporary estrangement of the earl’s
affections, I will not urge you to incur that hazard. But I should be
glad to learn that you have at last entirely dismissed the silly
fancy which you have so long allowed to occupy your breast. Give me an
assurance to that effect, and I shall be content.”

“I am far easier than I was, father,” she rejoined with a sigh. “But I
have not entirely subdued the feeling.”

“Persevere, daughter, and you will succeed,” said the priest. “Fasting
and prayer will do much.”

“I am willing to undergo any penance you may enjoin, father,” she
replied; “and, however severe it may be, I shall not complain--provided
I obtain relief.”

“With these good resolutions you cannot fail, daughter, and you shall
have my best assistance.”

The good father’s injunctions were strictly obeyed by the countess, and
after a time she told him her breast was tranquillised.

Meantime, the earl’s felicity was entirely undisturbed, except by some
misgivings as to the future.

Since his marriage a remarkable change had taken place in his
sentiments. At one time he had been chiefly engrossed by the thought of
accomplishing the restoration of the Chevalier de Saint George, and no
peril would have deterred him from making the effort. He now dreaded
being engaged in a civil war. He had everything that could contribute
to happiness--a lovely wife, to whom he was passionately attached--high
rank, great wealth, large possessions, a splendid mansion-all of which
would be sacrificed, if the enterprise should fail. The game was too
hazardous--the stake too high. Never, since his marriage, had he been
separated from his beautiful countess, and the thought of quitting
her--even for a brief season--was intolerable. He told her of his fears,
and she laughed at them.

“I should not love you half so well as I do,” she said, “if I did not
believe you would fight for King James--fight for him to the death.
Should a rising take place, you must join it--must take a prominent part
in it.”

“Since I wedded you, dearest Anna, life has acquired such value in my
eyes, that I am not disposed to throw it away lightly.”

“Do you call it throwing life away lightly to die for your king?”

“‘Twould be worse than death to lose you, Anna.”

“This is mere weakness. Shut me from your heart. The king’s claim is
paramount. ‘Twould be a crime to desert him. If you wish to preserve my
love, you will draw the sword for King James, when called upon.”

And she quitted the room.

Much irritated by the scornful tone in which the countess had spoken,
the earl walked forth into the wood, and did not return till he had
regained his calmness. He found the countess in the garden. She received
him with a smile, that dissipated any lingering feelings of anger, and
no further allusion was made to the subject at the time. Still, her
observations rankled in his breast and produced the effect she had
designed.

He felt that if he did not support King James, he should not retain her
love, and that would be a death-blow to his happiness. Whatever course
he might take seemed to lead to difficulty and danger.

Fortunately, he was not called upon for an immediate decision. Another
year of wedded bliss was allowed him.

Not till the expiration of that term did the storm begin to gather that
was destined to burst upon his head.



II. A WARRANT ISSUED FOR THE EARL’S ARREST.

|At length the mandate came.

A letter arrived from the Chevalier de Saint George enjoining the Earl
of Derwentwater to prepare for immediate action.

“So soon as the standard is set up in Scotland by Mar, you must rise,”
 ran the missive.

Aware that the earl had received a despatch from France, the countess
flew to his cabinet, and found him pacing to and fro within it, in a
state of great perturbation.

“Read that,” he said, giving her the letter.

Her cheeks flushed as she scanned it, and she exclaimed almost joyfully:

“You will obey his majesty’s orders. There must be no hesitation now. If
there is one man in England on whose zeal and fidelity King James ought
to be able to count, it is the Earl of Derwentwater, with whom he
is connected by birth, and whom he regards as a brother. Would you
disappoint all the hopes he has formed of you! Shake off this worse than
womanish weakness if you would not have me despise you.”

“No more!” cried the earl, almost fiercely. “You have said enough. You
have hardened my breast. I care not now what ensues.”

“I am glad I have roused you,” she cried. “Had you been wanting in the
hour of action, you would have been deemed a traitor to your king, and
have lost the respect of all honourable men.”

Just then Father Norham entered the room.

“I fear I have come at an unlucky moment,” he said, perceiving from
their looks that some misunderstanding had occurred between them; “and
I would at once retire, had I not important news to communicate. I have
just received private information from Newcastle that a warrant has
been issued for your lordship’s arrest on a charge of high treason. The
officers will be here to-morrow, and as they will be accompanied by a
party of horse-militia, you must either resist them or keep out of the
way. Since you are not fully prepared for a rising, I would counsel the
latter course.”

“And I advise resistance,” said the countess.

“No--that would precipitate the outbreak,” said the earl. “I must
concert measures with my friends ere I take up arms.”

“You cannot remain in the castle, my lord,” said the priest. “A most
rigorous search will be made, and if you are discovered, you will be
apprehended and placed in confinement.”

“Where shall I find a secure retreat?” said the earl.

“You ought not to be too far off, in case of a sudden emergency,” said
the countess.

“Your lordship would be perfectly safe in Nathan the woodcutter’s hut in
the thicket,” said the priest. “No one will seek you there--and even if
the place should be visited, you can easily escape into the wood.”

“Nathan Blacklaw is a trusty fellow,” said the earl. “I can perfectly
depend upon him. His hut will afford me an excellent hiding-place. When
inquiries are made for me, the servants can say that I am gone to
visit some Roman Catholic friends in Lancashire. The statement will be
credited, since the magistrates must have learnt that Lord Widdrington
is now staying with his brother-in-law, Mr. Townley, of Townley, in that
county. I will now go and see Nathan Blacklaw, and direct him to prepare
for me to-morrow morning.”

“Take me with you, I entreat!” said the countess. “I should like to see
how you will be lodged in the hut. I wish I could bear you company.”

“Alas! that cannot be!” sighed the earl. “Your presence would reconcile
me to any inconvenience. But it would infallibly lead to my discovery.
Besides, you must be at the castle to see how things go on, and
communicate with me.”

“I quite understand,” she replied.

“When my brother returns from Corbridge, acquaint him with my purpose,”
 said the earl to Father Norham. “I do not think he is in any danger of
arrest.”

“I have received no caution respecting Mr. Charles Radclyffe,” said the
priest. “I believe your lordship to be the only person threatened. But I
may hear further at night, as I expect a second messenger.”

“Long before then Charles will have returned,” said the earl. “And now
for the hut,” he added to the countess. “I have a melancholy foreboding
that when I once quit the castle I shall never come back to it.”

“Dismiss these thoughts, my dear lord,” said the priest, “Rest assured
that better days are in store for you.”



III.--THE WOODCUTTER’S HUT

|Passing through the garden, the earl and countess took a path that led
them along the rocky edge of the ravine, at the bottom of which flowed
the Devil’s Water.

At length they reached the wood and entered a sombre alley arched over
by boughs and designated the “Maiden’s Walk.”

According to a legend connected with the place, a phantom wearing the
form of a beautiful female was sometimes seen in the alley, and the
appearance of the “Maiden” was thought to bode ill to any member of the
Radclyffe family.

Not without some superstitious terror did the earl track this darksome
walk. He had often been there, but had never beheld the phantom, but
this seemed an occasion when, if ever, the Maiden might be expected to
appear.

At the end of the alley a narrow path turned off on the left that
brought them, after several windings, to an open space in the heart of
the thicket. Here stood the hut; and thus buried, it was not likely
that the little habitation would be discovered unless its situation were
pointed out.

As the noble pair drew near the hut, a savage growl was heard, and a
large, fierce-looking dog rushed from behind a great stack of wood. The
moment, however, the savage animal beheld the earl he became quiet and
crouched at his feet.

At the same time the woodcutter made his appearance.

Nathan Blacklaw was strongly built, and had a manly, resolute look.
On his shoulder he carried a hatchet, and his costume consisted of
a leather jacket, a leather cap, and long leather gaiters, reaching
considerably above the knee. He had come forward on hearing his dog
bark, and immediately recognizing the earl and countess, doffed his cap
and made a rough obeisance.

“Cheviot knows me as well as you do, Nathan,” observed the earl, patting
the dog’s large head.

“Ay, he wad na ha’ allowed any one but your lordship and my lady to come
nigh the hut,” said the wood-cutter.

“You must find him a good companion in this solitary spot, Nathan,”
 remarked the countess.

“‘Deed I do, my lady. I dunna know what I and my dame should do without
Cheviot.”

“We have come to have a look at the hut, Nathan,” said the earl. “Show
us inside it, will you?”

Just then a good-looking woman--not more than thirty-five--plainly, yet
not unbecomingly dressed, came forth.

Without any hesitation or embarrassment, Dame Black-law at once ushered
the noble pair into the cottage.

Necessarily it was very small, but it looked clean and tidy. It
contained only a couple of rooms: in the largest, on which the door
opened, the inmates had their meals; it was furnished with a chest of
drawers, a small oak table, an arm-chair, a rush-bottomed chair, and a
settee.

Besides these there was a clock, and in one corner was a cupboard
containing pewter plates, three or four drinking-mugs, certain articles
of crockery, and a brace of squat-looking Dutch bottles. Fixed against
the wall on the side opposite the cupboard was a crucifix, for Nathan
and his wife were Papists. On the hearth burnt a cheerful wood fire, and
above it hung a large iron pot. Over the mantelpiece was placed a gun.
The inner room, about half the size of the other, held the bed of the
worthy couple, who had no family.

“What will you say, dame, when I tell you that I am coming to spend a
few days with you?” remarked the earl.

“Your lordship is pleased to jest,” she replied, with a smile. “It isn’t
very likely you will stay here.”

“Likely or not, you may expect me to-morrow morning,” said the earl.

She held up her hands in astonishment.

“To speak plainly, I don’t find it safe at the castle,” said the earl.
“If I remain there I shall be arrested, so I mean to take refuge in your
cottage.”

“I thought as much,” cried Nathan. “I shall be proud, indeed, to afford
your lordship a hiding-place, and I think you will be quite safe here.”

“The magistrates are coming with a party of horse-militia to-morrow,
and as they won’t find me at the castle, they are sure to make a strict
search in the neighbourhood.”

“Let ‘em try. We’ll baffle ‘em,” said the woodcutter.

“But however shall we accommodate his lordship?” said

Dame Blacklaw to the countess. “He won’t condescend to occupy our bed.”

“Give yourself no trouble about me, dame,” interposed the earl. “I can
sleep very well in that arm-chair. With Cheviot to watch over me, I
shall fear no nocturnal intruder.”

“Your lordship will have timely warning should any one come near the
place. Of that you may rest assured,” said the woodcutter.

Having made all the arrangements he thought necessary, the earl then
left with the countess. His parting injunction to the woodcutter and his
wife was to look out for him early in the morning, and not to breathe a
word to any one that they expected him.



IV.--THE MAIDEN’S WALK.

|Despite his melancholy forebodings, the earl little dreamed this would
be the last night he should ever pass at the castle. He attended mass
in the little chapel, and held a long consultation with his brother,
Charles Rad-clyffe, who had now returned from Corbridge, as to the best
steps to be taken.

“‘Tis unlucky that our friends are scattered at this moment,” said the
earl. “Had we been able to unite, instead of flying from arrest, we
might have attacked Newcastle, and, if we had succeeded in capturing the
place, we should have been masters of the county.”

“This may yet be accomplished,” said Charles Radclyffe.

“Not unless we can get together a sufficient force,” said the earl.
“Forster and Lord Widdrington may not like to make the attempt, as I
know they both deem it very hazardous. We shall hear what Widdrington
says on his return from Lancashire.”

“Shall I appoint a meeting if I can find means of communicating with
them?” asked Charles Radclyffe. “And where shall the place of rendezvous
be fixed?”

“At Plainfield or thereabouts,” replied the earl. “Ten days hence I will
be there, unless I am prevented, and will bring with me all the men I
can muster.”

“I will find some means of sending this information to Forster,” said
Charles Radclyffe, “and he will communicate with Widdrington. If the
Earl of Mar would send us a Highland regiment it would help us greatly.
Shall I write to him in your name?”

“Do so without delay,” said the earl. “The rising will never be
successful unless our force is materially strengthened.”

“All your instructions shall be attended to,” said Charles Radclyffe,
“and I trust nothing will go wrong to-morrow.”

The rest of the evening was spent in affectionate converse by the earl
and countess. There were no guests in the house, so they sat together
till supper, when they were joined by Charles Radclyffe and Father
Nor-ham.

The countess was in excellent spirits, and laughed at the threatened
visit of the magistrates. If the earl was not equally free from
apprehension, he contrived to assume a cheerful aspect.

Next morning, soon after daybreak, Lord Denventwater arose. The countess
was still slumbering, but before he took his departure he stooped down
to print a kiss on her brow. Instantly awakened, she flung her arms
round his neck and bade him adieu.

“I have had a very happy dream,” she said; “and I hope it may come true.
I thought the king was restored, and chiefly by your instrumentality.”

“Much has to be done ere that can be accomplished,” rejoined the earl.
“But I do not despair.”

“I wish you could remain here, and resist the officers,” she said. “How
pleased I should be to see them driven hence!”

“There is no chance of such a result,” said the earl. “We must bide our
time. In a few days we shall take the field.”

Tenderly embracing her, he then quitted the room.

None of the household were astir as Lord Derwentwater went forth. He
gave one look at the mansion, heaved a deep sigh, and proceeded towards
the wood.

The morning was grey and misty, the trees in the park could scarcely
be distinguished, and the brook at the bottom of the glen was hidden by
vapour.

Gloomy thoughts likewise possessed him, and as he tracked the sombre
alley, he thought he beheld a female figure, arrayed in white, advancing
towards him.

Not doubting it was the Maiden, he instantly stopped.

In another moment the phantom stood before him. Its looks were sad and
compassionate, but it spoke not, and terror kept him dumb.

After remaining thus transfixed for a few moments, he broke the spell
and moved forwards, but the phantom waved him back, and he again halted.

With another warning gesture, accompanied by a look of indescribable
pity, the figure vanished.

Not for some minutes after issuing from the alley, did the earl recover
from the shock he had received, and he was still leaning for support
against a tree, when he was roused by the approach of the woodcutter and
his dog.

“I fear your lordship is unwell?” remarked Nathan.

“No,” replied the earl, “but I have been much alarmed. I have just seen
the Maiden.”

“Then I don’t wonder your lordship is disturbed,” said the woodcutter.
“May I venture to ask what occurred?”

“The spirit warned me to turn back,” said the earl. “But it is now too
late.”

The woodcutter made no remark, but seemed to think that the warning
ought not to be neglected.

On reaching the hut, Lord Derwentwater threw himself into the arm-chair
and presently fell asleep. Nor did he awake for some hours.

During this interval, Dame Blacklaw moved about as noiselessly as she
could, so as not to disturb him--Cheviot crouched at his feet--and
Nathan went on with his work outside; but he left it, ever and anon, for
a short space, while he flew to the skirts of the woods to reconnoitre.



V.--HOW CHARLES RADCLYFFE PROVOKED SIR WILLIAM LORRAINE.

|About nine o’clock on the same morning, the Newcastle magistrates
arrived at the castle. They were attended by certain subordinate
officers, armed with sword and pistol, and by a party of horse-militia.

As the gate had been thrown wide open by the porter, they all rode into
the court, and the chief persons--three in number--proceeded to the
entrance and dismounted.

Among them was Sir William Lorraine, who, though he had long ceased to
be high sheriff, was still a magistrate. As on the former expedition,
Sir William was accompanied by his active agent, Jesmond, who
was determined not to be duped on the present occasion. While the
magistrates and the others entered the court, Jesmond and his comrade
Hedgeley fastened up their horses and proceeded to the garden to look
about them.

As may well be supposed, the noise and clatter caused by this large
party of horsemen, had brought forth all the servants, and when the
magistrates dismounted at the steps, they were met by Newbiggin and two
or three others.

In return to their obeisances, Sir William, as the principal magistrate,
said in a loud authoritative tone to Newbiggin:

“Conduct us at once to the Earl of Derwentwater. We hold a warrant for
his arrest.”

“His lordship is not within,” replied the butler, with formal
politeness.

“Where is he?” demanded Sir William. “We must see him.”

“I don’t see how that can be managed, Sir William, seeing that his
lordship is in Lancashire,” rejoined Newbiggin.

“In Lancashire!” exclaimed Sir William. “He must have travelled very
quickly. I know he was here yesterday.”

“Yes, Sir William, but he intended to ride throughout the night, and I
make no doubt he is in Lancashire this morning.”

“Then he has fled?”

“Pardon me, Sir William, he has gone on a visit to some of his Roman
Catholic friends.”

“Harkee, sirrah!” cried Mr. Woodburn, another of the magistrates. “Take
care how you attempt to deceive us. You will not go unpunished.”

“Perhaps you would like to see her ladyship, gentlemen--or Mr. Charles
Radclyffe?” said Mr. Newbiggin.

“It will be necessary to see them both, and to search the house as
well,” said Mr. Woodburn.

“You will be good enough to state your wishes to her ladyship, sir,”
 rejoined the butler. “I dare say she will make no objection. Be pleased
to step this way, gentlemen.”

He then conducted them across the hall to the diningroom, where they
found Lady Derwentwater, Mr. Charles Radclyffe and Father Norham at
breakfast.

Her ladyship looked very charming in her morning toilette, and seemed in
no way discomposed by the entrance of the magistrates. Still holding the
cup of chocolate, from which she was sipping, she arose and made them a
formal courtesy.

“These gentlemen are Newcastle magistrates, my lady,” said the butler
significantly.

“I understand,” she replied. “You have explained that his lordship is
not at home?”

“Yes, my lady; but they are not content with my assurance.”

“Your ladyship must be fully aware,” said Sir William, sententiously,
“that the Earl of Derwentwater has incurred the suspicion of Government,
and will not therefore be surprised to learn that we hold a warrant for
his arrest. We cannot depart without him.”

“That implies a doubt as to the truth of the statement you have just
heard, that his lordship is not at home,” observed the countess.

“Where her husband’s safety is concerned a wife may perhaps consider
herself justified in duping the authorities,” remarked Sir William. “If
I seem to doubt your ladyship’s word, you must excuse me.”

“Then I will say no more, but leave you to take your own course,” she
rejoined.

“We will put your ladyship to as little inconvenience as we can,” said
Mr. Woodburn. “But we must search the house.”

“Search as much as you please, gentlemen, you will be disappointed,”
 remarked Charles Radclyffe. “I will give you my head if you find Lord
Derwentwater here.”

“I know you to be a man of honour, sir,” said Sir William, “and
therefore am inclined to believe you.”

“Inclined to believe me, sir!” exclaimed Charles Radclyffe, furiously.
“‘Sdeath, sir, you _shall_ believe me, or render an immediate account of
your incredulity.”

“If you have a quarrel to arrange, pray step out upon the lawn,”
 remarked Lady Derwentwater.

“At any other time, I should not refuse Mr. Charles Radclyffe’s
challenge,” said Sir William. “But just now I have a duty to perform,
and shall not be deterred by an idle threat. I must again express my
conviction that Lord Derwentwater is concealed in the house.”

“Then make a careful search, Sir William,” said the countess. “And if
you cannot disprove Mr. Charles Radclyffe’s assertion, you are bound to
offer him an apology.”

Turning to Father Norham, she added, “Your reverence will be good enough
to conduct these gentlemen over the house. Go with them, likewise,
Newbiggin.”

“I shall take leave to make one of the party,” said Charles Radclyffe.

Thereupon, they quitted the dining-room, leaving the countess alone.

This was the second time that Sir William Lorraine had made a
perquisition of the house, and he was able, therefore, to get through
the business with despatch. But he had to brook a great many insolent
observations from Charles Radclyffe, who lost no opportunity of
provoking him. The search occupied more than an hour, and when it was
concluded, and the magistrates were obliged to confess their failure,
Charles burst into a contemptuous laugh, and said:

“This is on a par with your great feat at Bamborough, Sir William,
which gained you so much reputation in the county, when you were high
sheriff.”

“You do well to remind me of the trick played upon me at that time,”
 said Sir William, greatly exasperated. “I have not forgotten it, though
Mr. Forster and some others may wish I had. I think, sir, you will be
safest at Newcastle, and since I cannot secure Lord Derwentwater, I will
take you with me, and hold you as a hostage for your brother.”

“Do not imagine I will accompany you, Sir William,” said Charles.

“You will have no option,” rejoined the other. “You will be taken as a
prisoner.”

“I scarcely think so,” said Charles. “You have no warrant, and I will
resist any attempt to arrest me.”

This angry colloquy took place in the hall, and was overheard by
several of the servants, who were ready to rush to Charles Radclyffe’s
assistance should he need them.

Just then Jesmond and Hedgeley came in, and the magistrates called out
to them.

Profiting by this interval, Father Norham urged the rash young man to
fly, and he yielded to the counsel.

Drawing his sword, he ran along a passage communicating with the
terrace. But he was quickly followed both by the magistrates and the
officers, and it seemed that a conflict would take place on the terrace,
for the servants were likewise hurrying to the same spot.

The windows of the dining-room, in which the countess was still sitting,
commanded the scene of action, and hearing a noise she came forward to
see what was taking place.

She beheld Charles Radclyffe standing there, with his drawn sword,
threatening any one who approached him. Feeling however, that if any
catastrophe occurred the consequences would be disastrous, he formed a
different resolution, and at once acted upon it.

Springing to the side of the terrace, that bordered the ravine, he flung
his sword into the hollow, and then plunged down the rocky sides of the
abyss, certain no one would follow him in this perilous descent.

Those who looked down from the terrace, saw him reach the banks of the
Devil’s Water in safety, pick up his sword, and then disappear among the
bushes.

Jesmond, who had drawn a pistol, would have fired at him, but this Sir
William Lorraine would not allow.

“Capture him, if you can,” he said. “But he must not be wounded--unless
he resists.”

But it did not appear likely that anything more would be seen of him.



VI.--HOW CHARLES RADCLYFFE JOINED THE EARL AT THE HUT.

|AFTER slumbering tranquilly for three or four hours in the arm-chair
Lord Derwentwater roused himself, and breakfasted with a very good
appetite on the simple fare provided for him by Dame Blacklaw.

He next occupied himself in examining some papers which he carried in a
small portfolio, and was still thus employed when Cheviot, who had never
left him, suddenly raised his head, and gave a low growl.

“He hears something,” observed Dame Blacklaw. “But there can be no
danger, or Nathan would have come to warn your lordship.”

After listening for a moment, Cheviot got up and began to whine, and the
door being opened, he rushed forth and a joyous bark was instantly heard
outside.

Curious to learn who was there, Lord Derwentwater hastily put up his
papers, and went out.

To his great surprise, he found the new-comer was his brother, who told
him in a few words what had taken place, and though the earl blamed
him for his imprudence, he felt greatly enraged against Sir William
Lorraine.

“I should like to drive these magistrates from the castle,” he said.

“If you are of that mind, it may still be done,” rejoined Charles. “But
for your express orders to the contrary, I would have shut the gates,
and shown them fight.”

“But no preparations had been made,” said the earl.

“There you are mistaken,” returned Charles. “I was quite ready. All the
tenants and retainers are stationed at the farm; all the horses have
been taken there; all the arms and ammunition have been removed from the
old tower, and deposited in one of the barns; all the grooms and active
men-servants are likewise at the farm.”

“And you have done all this without consulting me?” cried the earl.

“It was done at the urgent request of the countess,” replied Charles.
“She said, ‘It is not fitting that the Earl of Derwentwater should hide
in hovels, when the gentry are in arms for their lawful sovereign. It
shall never be said that the officers came to Dilston to arrest him, and
were allowed to depart as they came. If no one else will do it, I will
drive them hence. I disuaded her from this bold step, but I agreed to
get all ready with the design of effecting your rescue if you should
fall into their hands.”

“You have done well, Charles,” cried the earl, “and I thank you. Let us
to the farm at once, and if the enemy are still at the castle we will
soon expel them.”

“This resolution is worthy of you, my lord,” said Charles. “I fear your
flight might have been misconstrued.”

Thinking Nathan might be useful, the earl bade him follow, and hastened
away with his brother.



VII.--HOW THE MAGISTRATES AND THE MILITIAMEN WERE FORCED TO QUIT THE
CASTLE.

|The farm to which reference has just been made, lay on the other side
of the castle, and was distant about half a mile from the woodcutter’s
hut.

The earl and his companions, however, proceeded so expeditiously that
they were soon there, but as they were tracking a lane that led to
the farm buildings they encountered a man, who had evidently been
reconnoitring the place, and instantly secured him.

This proved to be Jesmond, and though armed, he did not offer any
resistance--probably thinking it would be useless. Disarming him, and
giving the weapons to Nathan, the earl told the latter to shoot the man
if he attempted to fly.

An additional guard was found in Cheviot, who had followed his master,
and cut off all chance of the prisoner’s escape.

In some respects this was an important capture, and the earl hoped to
turn it to account. At any rate, he had ascertained that the party were
still at the castle, and felt sure he should take them by surprise.

On entering the farm-yard the earl found between thirty and forty
stalwart yeomen collected there.

All of them had got good strong horses, and had pistols in their
holsters and swords by the side. With them were half a dozen grooms. The
sight of these sturdy fellows sent a thrill through the earl’s breast,
and he reproached himself with not having confided to them the defence
of the castle. They would have set up a shout on his appearance, but
he checked them. Very few minutes sufficed to arrange matters. All the
yeomen were quickly in the saddle.

Mounted on his favourite dapple-grey steed, which had been brought to
the farmyard, the Earl of Derwentwater put himself at the head of his
troop, and bade them follow him to the castle--but ere they arrived
there they received an important reinforcement.

Colonel Oxburgh, Captain Wogan, and the rest of that gallant little
band, who still held together, were then at Hexham, and having learnt
that the magistrates of Newcastle, attended by a party of horse-militia,
designed to arrest Lord Derwentwater, they set off to the earl’s
assistance, and arrived in the very nick of time.

They were galloping up the chestnut avenue at the very time when the
earl brought his troop from the farm. An immediate explanation took
place; and on hearing how matters stood, Colonel Oxburgh exclaimed, “I
think we can take them prisoners.”

They then rode quickly forward, and finding that the whole of the
militiamen were in the court, they drew up in front of the gate, so as
to prevent the departure of the intruders.

After this successful manouvre, which was very quickly executed, Lord
Derwentwater and the principal persons with him advanced into the court.

Here all was confusion and dismay. Most of the militiamen had
dismounted, and were scattered about the court in a very disorderly
manner.

While their leader was shouting to them to mount, Lord Derwentwater
dashed up to him, and seizing his bridle, demanded his sword.

The officer held back for a moment, but seeing that the gate was
strongly guarded, and retreat impossible, he yielded, and the men did
not seem inclined to offer any further opposition.

Hitherto the magistrates had been inside the house, but they now came
forth to see what was going on, and no sooner had they done so than the
door was shut and barred behind them.

They were contemplating the scene with dismay, when Lord Derwentwater
and his friends came up.

“The tables are turned, you perceive, gentlemen,” said the earl, in a
mocking tone. “You have come here to arrest me, and are made prisoners
yourselves.”

“But your lordship won’t detain us,” rejoined Sir William.

“I have no wish to put you to inconvenience, but I shall not let you go,
unless you engage to return direct to Newcastle.”

After a short consultation with his brother magistrates, Sir William
said, “We agree.”

“You must also deliver up the warrant, and undertake that no further
attempt shall be made to arrest me,” said the earl.

“Your lordship must feel that we cannot enter into such an engagement,”
 replied Mr. Woodburn. “We will deliver up the warrant, but we cannot
tell what steps may be taken.”

“Well, I advise you not to come again on the like errand,” said the
earl. “One of your officers has fallen into my hands. I shall keep
him as a hostage, and if aught happens contrary to our present
understanding, I will most assuredly shoot him. Now, gentlemen, you are
free to depart as soon as you please.”

Thereupon, the magistrates came down from the perron, on the summit of
which they had been standing, and mounted their horses.

By this time all the militiamen were in the saddle, and ready for
departure. They muttered threats against the Jacobites, but were glad to
escape a conflict with them. When Jesmond found he was to be detained,
he begged hard to be set free; but his entreaties were disregarded.

The yeomen who had hitherto blocked up the gateway were now removed by
Charles Radclyffe, and there was nothing to prevent the departure of the
intruders, when a large upper window of the mansion was opened, and the
Countess of Derwentwater appeared at it.

In her hand she bore a silken banner, embroidered with the badge of the
Chevalier de Saint George. Waving the banner above the assemblage, she
called out in a loud clear voice, distinctly heard by all, “Long live
King James the Third! and down with the Hanoverian Usurper!”

Deafening shouts arose from the Jacobites, amidst which the magistrates
and the militiamen passed through the gateway.



VIII.--HOW THE EARL TOOK LEAVE OF THE COUNTESS.

|At length the decisive step is taken,” cried Lord Der-wentwater. “Now
there can be no turning back. I do not think it will be safe to remain
longer at Dilston, and I would join Forster if I knew where to find
him.”

“Two days hence he will be at Rothbury,” said Colonel Oxburgh. “I had
a letter from him by express this very morning. He is moving about the
country, picking up all the recruits he can. He has now, it seems,
got forty or fifty gentlemen with him--all High Church Tories, of
course--and all well mounted and well armed.”

“A good beginning,” cried the earl. “I will set out at once for
Rothbury, and take all my own men with me. No doubt, we shall largely
increase our force, as soon as we take the field.”

“That is certain,” said Colonel Oxburgh. “But we must get together
without delay. Since Forster will not come here, we must go to him. Do
not let your resolution cool, my lord. Let us start at once!”

“It shall be so,” cried the earl.

The determination was acted upon. The men displayed great loyalty and
spirit. On being informed by the earl that he was about to take the
field forthwith, they expressed the utmost willingness to follow him,
and fight for King James.

As the Earl of Derwentwater was too devout to start on such an
expedition as the present, without invoking Divine aid and protection,
and as all his tenants and retainers were of the same religion as
himself, mass was performed by Father Norham in the little chapel, at
which the whole party assisted. The countess likewise was present, and
was deeply affected.

It was a touching sight to see all those rude soldiers kneeling there
and imploring Heaven’s blessing upon their amis. But there were others
there, equally earnest in their prayers--Colonel Oxburgh and his brave
companions, with Charles Radclyffe. All these were gathered in front of
the altar near the earl, and received the priestly benediction.

When the service was over, all immediately left the chapel, except the
earl and countess, who remained there for a short time longer.

Their parting was sorrowful, for both felt they might never meet again.
The countess was more overcome than she expected. During the visit of
the magistrates she had been greatly excited, but a reaction had since
taken place, and she was now proportionately depressed. Her beautiful
head fell upon the earl’s breast, and she wept aloud.

“I do not like to leave you thus, dearest Anna,” he said.

“Heed me not!” she rejoined, gazing at him with streaming eyes. “This
will soon be past. I would not have you defer your departure for an hour
on my account. Come back as soon as you can--but come not back till you
have restored the king!”

“Then I may never return,” said the earl, gloomily.

“Do not despair!” she cried. “Be of good heart, and you will triumph.
Night and morn, I will pray at this altar for success to your arms. And
since your cause is just, Heaven will grant my prayer! And now farewell!
If you stay too long here, your resolution may waver.”

“No fear of that!” cried the earl, again straining her to his breast.
“Farewell! farewell!”

He then tore himself away, but when he reached the door of the chapel,
he turned to take a last look at her.

She was again kneeling at the altar, and did not see him.

Meanwhile, the yeomen had been taken to the butler’s pantry, where they
lost no time in discussing the plentiful repast prepared for them, and
having washed down the viands with some jugs of strong ale, re-mounted
their horses.

Refreshments and wine were likewise served in the entrance-hall, of
which the Jacobite gentlemen partook.

Before going forth each drank the king’s health in a large goblet of
claret, and each drew his sword and devoted it to the king’s service.

Soon after this the court was empty, and the various horsemen, who had
lately filled it, were seen speeding along the chestnut avenue, with the
Earl of Denventwater at their head, mounted on his dapple-grey steed.



IX.--MAD-JACK HALL OF OTTERBURN.

|Halting at Corbridge, the earl and his companions drew their swords,
and proclaimed James the Third.

Here half a dozen gentlemen joined them, and they obtained some further
recruits as they went on.

One of the chief partisans of the Stuarts in the county was Mr. Hall,
of Otterburn, in Redesdale. A man of ancient family and considerable
property, but of eccentric character and ungovernable temper, he was
known by the name of “Mad Jack Hall of Otterburn.”

Under ordinary circumstances it was difficult to get on with a person
so quarrelsome, and he was therefore left out of many Jacobite meetings;
but it being now necessary that every friend of the cause should
be mustered, Squire Hall was far too important to be omitted. Lord
Derwentwater had therefore resolved to visit Otterburn, and see what
could be done with the crazy laird. He mentioned his design to Colonel
Oxburgh and the others, who entirely approved of it.

About four o’clock in the afternoon, after riding for the most part
across the country, they entered a wild district, erstwhile the scene
of many a Border foray; and after tracking it for some miles reached the
picturesque village of Otterburn, where the famous battle was fought.

Before them rose the still proud pile that had so stoutly resisted the
attack of the Scots. Through the valley flowed the now clear Otter, once
been dyed red with blood, while its banks were covered with slain.

The approach of the party had evidently been observed, for as they drew
near the castle, a tall man sallied forth from the gateway, and greeted
them with a loud shout.

Lord Derwentwater and those with him at once recognised the Laird of
Otterburn, and were glad to find him at home.

In age, Squire Hall might be forty-five--perhaps not quite so much--but
his deep red complexion seemed to indicate that he drank hard, and his
countenance had certainly a wild expression. But his deportment was
quite that of a gentleman. He wore a green riding-dress laced with
silver, a black riding-wig, and a small three-cornered hat, likewise
bound with silver lace, and had a sword by his side.

That he understood what had brought the party to Otterburn was clear, as
also, that he was quite ready to join them, for he took off his hat, and
shouted at the top of a stentorian voice, “Long live King James!”

The shout was repeated by the new-comers, and so lustily that all the
villagers rushed to their doors.

After cordially greeting Lord Derwentwater and those with him, all of
whom were friends, the squire led the whole party into the courtyard of
the castle, and then told them they must not think of leaving him till
the morrow.

“Don’t imagine you will incommode me,” he said. “There is plenty of room
in the old castle. To-day we will drink the king’s health. To-morrow we
will muster our forces, and prepare to fight his enemies. Forster, I
hear, is at Rothbury, and if I hadn’t joined your lordship, I should
have joined him.”

Very well satisfied with their hearty reception, the earl and his
friends with the whole troop dismounted, and were shortly afterwards
installed in various parts of the castle.

That beds were found for all of them--or even half--we do not pretend to
say; but in some way or other they were accommodated.

Later on in the day a substantial dinner was served in the old
banqueting-hall.

A great deal of wine was drunk that night, as was generally the case at
Otterburn, and it would have been strange indeed if a quarrel had not
occurred between the choleric laird and some of his guests.

For a time Squire Hall appeared in remarkably good humour. He proposed
a great number of Jacobite toasts, all of which were drunk with
enthusiasm, but at length he propounded a plan for taking Newcastle by
surprise, and its absurdity being pointed out to him by Colonel Oxburgh
he flew into a violent rage, and told the colonel he was not fit to
command a regiment.

The colonel immediately arose to leave the table, and Lord Derwentwater
insisted that the squire should at once withdraw the offensive
observation. Instead of doing so, the squire sprang from his chair,
drew his sword, and dared Colonel Oxburgh to meet him; but while
gesticulating fiercely he fell to the ground, and could not get up
again. In this state he was carried off to bed, and next morning he had
forgotten all about the occurrence.



X.--THE RACE ON SIMONSIDE.

|After a capital breakfast, the whole party--now increased by Squire
Hall and half a dozen men--rode from Otter-burn to Simonside, one of the
loftiest and most striking hills in Northumberland. The summit of this
remarkable eminence is a complete plateau, and the views commanded
from it on all sides are extraordinarily fine, the whole range of the
Cheviots being visible on the west, and the German Ocean on the east.

As the party were riding across this wide plain, with the intention of
descending the north side, and proceeding to Rothbury, Squire Hall, who
had been tolerably quiet during the morning, proposed to ride a race
with Charles Radclyffe for twenty guineas.

“We will ride from here to Rothbury,” he said; “and whoever gets there
first, shall be deemed the winner.”

Charles Radclyffe instantly accepted the challenge; but the Earl of
Derwentwater very reluctantly allowed the match to take place, and only
consented from the fear of causing a fresh quarrel with the squire.

Without loss of time, the two gentlemen were placed together, and
started at once by the earl. Both were well mounted--both excellent
horsemen--but Charles Radclyffe was much the lighter weight, though
undoubtedly the squire had the stronger horse.

It was a very pretty sight, to see them as they scoured over the plain,
accompanied by the whole troop. The earl’s dapple-grey being fleeter
than either of the contending steeds, he could have easily led them, had
he thought proper, but he did not make the attempt. Nor did he go beyond
the edge of the hill.

On looking down the steep slopes, he called to the others to stop, but
neither of them heeded him. Both dashed headlong down the hill, and all
the lookers-on thought they would come rolling to the bottom.

If ever Squire Hall merited the epithet applied to his name, it was on
that day, and Charles Radclyffe appeared little less crazy--the general
impression being that both would break their necks. But somehow, the
horses kept their feet. The squire shouted lustily, as he continued his
mad descent, and Charles was equally excited.

To the astonishment of all the beholders they got down in safety, and
were soon afterwards seen crossing the bridge; being then so close
together, that it was impossible to say who had won the race.

The Earl of Derwentwater and his companions took an easier and more
secure route down. As they approached the old bridge over the Coquet
leading to the charming little town, they met the two crazy riders
coming to meet them, and inquired who had won.

“We can’t settle the point, my lord,” replied the squire; “it seems to
have been a dead-heat. We shall have to ride the race over again.”

“Not on Simonside Hill,” replied Lord Derwentwater, laughing. “Have you
heard where Mr. Forster has fixed his head-quarters? I see nothing of
him or his troop.”

“His head-quarters are now at Wanny Crags,” replied the squire. “He has
gone there to meet some friends.”

“Does he return to Rothbury?” demanded the earl.

“That seems doubtful,” replied Charles Radclyffe. “No one can answer
for his movements. Probably, he will proceed to Warkworth to meet Lord
Widdrington.”

“Then we must follow him,” said the earl.

Fain would Lord Deventwater have tarried for a day at Rothbury, which
offered many attractions to him, but wishing to effect an immediate
junction with Forster, he only halted long enough to allow his men to
refresh themselves at the comfortable little hostel near the church,
where they found good ale.

To reach Wanny Crags, they had again to cross Simon-side, and the
deciding race was run on the summit, and won by Squire Hall, who was
extraordinarily proud of the achievement.



XI.--WANNY CRAGS.

|On descending the south side of the hill the earl and his troop passed
through a thick forest, and then entered upon a moor, in the midst of
which could be seen a remarkable cluster of rocks. These were Wanny
Crags, and on the highest of them floated the king’s banner, showing
that the insurgents had taken up a position there.

On a nearer approach to this singular station, Forster and his men could
be descried, grouped like bandits on the rocks; while a great cleft
served as a stable for their horses.

As the earl drew nigh this natural fortress, Forster came down from
the lofty point he had occupied and bade him welcome, expressing the
greatest satisfaction at beholding him and his friends, and adding, that
no doubt now they were come, all would go well.

“You do not mean to pass the night among these rocks, I presume?” said
the earl.

“I came hither in the hope of gaining some recruits,” replied Forster,
“but have been disappointed. If your lordship had not joined me, I
should have returned to Rothbury. But now I think it will be best to
proceed to Warkworth. The castle is in our hands, and Lord Widdrington
will be there to-morrow with a troop of horse. I hope we shall soon be
strong enough to besiege Newcastle.”

“Nothing can be decided upon till our forces are organised, and we can
ascertain what assistance we are likely to receive from Scotland,”
 said Lord Derwentwater. “From what you say, we shall be able to hold a
consultation with Lord Widdrington to-morrow, and can be guided by his
advice.”

Just then, a sentinel stationed on the highest crag, called out that
a troop of horse-militia was coming across the moor on the road from
Morpeth, and after Charles Radclyffe had examined the party through a
spy-glass he declared it was Sir William Lorraine, and the party he had
brought with him to Dilston.

“I recognise Sir William perfectly,” he said.

“And so do I!” cried Squire Hall, taking the spy-glass from him. “And I
am quite certain he is now on his way to Otterburn to arrest me. Leave
me to deal with him. Let the men conceal themselves behind the rocks, so
that he may not suspect the presence of so large a party.”

Since no harm could be done by humouring the eccentric squire, Lord
Derwentwater and Mr. Forster complied with his request, and, as he rode
off, they concealed their men as he had suggested.

As soon as Sir William Lorraine--for he it undoubtedly was--came in
sight of Wanny Crags, he was made aware by the flag that a party of
insurgents must be posted there.

But this discovery did not prevent him from going on, as he had no idea
the rebels were in any force, and did not imagine they could muster more
than a dozen at the outside.

As Squire Hall advanced, he recognised him, and called out to him
to stop, but the injunction being disregarded he repeated it more
authoritatively.

“You are my prisoner, sir,” he cried. “I hold a warrant for your
arrest.”

“I don’t think you are likely to execute the warrant, Sir William,”
 rejoined the squire laughing disdainfully.

“I would not advise you to offer resistance, sir,” said Sir William.
“And since there is no chance of escape, you had better surrender at
discretion.”

“I surrender!” exclaimed the squire. “I defy you and all your men to
arrest me.”

So saying, he wheeled round, and galloped back as fast as he could to
Wanny Crags.

The magistrate followed with the whole of his troop. He would not
allow them to fire, or the career of the fugitive would soon have been
checked.

The squire called out loudly as he drew near the crags, and in answer
to the cry, forty or fifty armed insurgents suddenly appeared at various
points; while an equal number of horsemen, headed by Lord Derwentwater
and Mr. Forster, came from behind the rocks.

Confounded by this unexpected sight, and instantly comprehending the
snare into which he had fallen, the magistrate would have fled,
but before he could stir, his bridle was seized by Squire Hall, who
exclaimed:

“You threatened to arrest me, Sir William. Now you are my prisoner.”

While the magistrate was hesitating, Lord Derwentwater called out:

“Bid your men lay down their arms instantly, Sir William, or we shall
fire upon them.”

“Hold! my lord!” exclaimed the squire. “I am very much mistaken if these
worthy fellows are not inclined to join us. Save your lives,” he added
to the militiamen, “and shout for James the Third!”

“Long live King James!” cried the whole of the troop.

“Ah, traitors! ah, rebels! is it thus you support your king?” cried the
magistrate.

“Harkee, Sir William!” cried the squire. “I would recommend you a little
more prudence. If you try to take our recruits from us we shall make
short work with you. Gentlemen,” he added to the others, “you are now on
the right side. Let neither threats nor persuasions lure you from it.”

“Do you propose to detain me, my lord, if I consent to deliver up my
arms?” said the magistrate to Lord Der-wentwater.

“No, Sir William,” replied the earl. “I am anxious you should take back
tidings of your own defeat to Morpeth. You cannot conceal it, since you
will not have your militiamen with you.”

With a deeply mortified look Sir William then delivered his sword to
Squire Hall, by whom it was handed to Lord Derwentwater, after which the
magistrate rode off by himself, and returned to Morpeth.

A very curious scene now took place, as the late enemies fraternised,
and professed the greatest regard for each other. All the militiamen
seemed now to be ardent Jacobites.

Greatly rejoiced at obtaining such an unexpected reinforcement, the two
leaders did all in their power to conciliate the new recruits, and were
by no means sparing in promises.

The party did not remain much longer at Wanny Crags, but proceeded to a
hill called the Waterfalls, from the circumstance of a spring running
in two different directions. Here they halted for a couple of hours at a
large farmhouse.

Thence they marched to Warkworth, their road lying for the most part
along the banks of the beautiful river Coquet.



XII.--WARKWORTH CASTLE.

|Next day, the two insurgent chiefs, who were lodged with all their
followers in Warkworth Castle, were joined by Lord Widdrington with
thirty horsemen.

His lordship would have brought double that number of men, but horses
and equipments for them were wanting. Plenty of raw undisciplined
infantry could be found, but cavalry were required.

On the whole, however, the prospects of the insurgents were very
encouraging. They had plenty of friends at Alnwick and Morpeth, and an
insurrection would undoubtedly have taken place in Newcastle, had it not
been checked by the sudden arrival of Sir Charles Hotham’s regiment of
foot from Yorkshire.

From accounts received from every quarter, it was certain that the whole
country was in a most disturbed state, and reinforcements, though on a
somewhat small scale, were constantly arriving. The insurgents had not
been many hours in Warkworth when their numbers were augmented by a
hundred horse.

Immediately on the arrival of Lord Widdrington at Warkworth, the first
business of the insurgent leaders was to collect all their forces in the
court-yard of the castle, and proclaim King James.

A large concourse likewise assembled, and great enthusiasm prevailed.
No locality could have been better chosen for the ceremonial, which
produced a very striking effect, and no ill omen attended it. On the
contrary, everything appeared auspicious. The day was fine, and the
proud old castle looked its best, and seemed to smile upon the scene.

After the proclamation had been made--amid loud flourishes of trumpets
and beating of drums, accompanied by the shouts of the assemblage--the
royal banner was placed on the Lion Tower.

Later on in the day, a banquet was given in the great baronial hall in
the keep, at which all the insurgent officers assisted.

The entertainment was intended to celebrate the appointment of Mr.
Forster as General of the Northumbrian forces, which had taken place
that day at the recommendation of the Earl of Derwentwater and Lord
Widdrington, the only persons who could have opposed him.

But they both felt that the commander of the English army must not be a
Roman Catholic, and therefore withdrew their own claims, and supported
the High Tory squire, who was generally very popular in the county, and
to whom objections on the score of religion could not be raised. However
deficient Mr. Forster might be in military knowledge and skill, it was
thought he would be saved from any grave error by Colonel Oxburgh, whom
he proposed to have constantly near him.

The banquet passed off very well, and the best feeling towards the new
commander was manifested on all hands.

Some little disturbance was made by the Laird of Otterburn, but it was
quickly set right, and General Forster put more constraint upon himself
than he had been accustomed to do in former days at Bamborough.

Next day the castle began to assume the appearance of a garrison.

The court-yard was filled with recruits, who were continually arriving,
and Colonel Oxburgh and Captain Wogan were entirely occupied in
examining them.

As much discipline as possible was observed, but in the present state of
things it was very difficult to maintain it.

General Forster rode to Alnwick, accompanied by Lord Derwentwater and
Lord Widdrington, and attended by a strong guard, and brought back with
him some necessary supplies.

On his return he was welcomed by the arrival of a troop of Scottish
cavalry (known as the Merse Troop), under the command of the Honourable
James Hume, brother to the earl of Hume.

This was one of the five troops composing the division of South Country
Scots now marching into England, from Moffat in Annandale, and commanded
by Lord Kenmure.

The Merse troop, it appeared, had marched from Jedburgh, over a
mountainous and marshy country to Roth-bury, where Captain Hume heard
of Forster and Lord Derwentwater, and finding they were now posted at
Warkworth, came on thither. Behind, but following the same route, were
the four other troops, respectively commanded by the Honourable Basil
Hamilton of Beldoun, the Earl of Wintoun, Captain James Dalziel, brother
of the Earl of Carnwath, and Captain Lockhart.

The chief command of the South Country Scots, as we have said, belonged
to Lord Kenmure.

The Merse troop did not remain long at Warkworth, but after conferring
with General Forster, Captain Hume moved off with his men to Felton,
there to await instructions from his commander.

It was, however, agreed that an early meeting should take place at
Rothbury between the Northumbrian insurgents and the battalion of the
South Country Scots.

By noon next day so many reinforcements had arrived that General Forster
found himself at the head of nearly five hundred men.

Unfavourable news, however, from Newcastle, caused Forster to postpone
his meditated attack on the town.

Extraordinary exertions had been made by Sir William Lorraine and the
other magistrates, who had raised trainbands, seized and imprisoned all
the Papists, and shut the gates. Furthermore, it was stated that seven
hundred of the inhabitants had formed themselves into a company of
volunteers, and that the keelmen, most of whom were Presbyterians, and
strongly opposed to the Stuarts, had offered an additional body of seven
hundred men.

But by far the most alarming piece of intelligence was, that General
Carpenter had been sent by Government in pursuit of the rebels, with
three regiments of dragoons and Sir Charles Hotham’s regiment of foot,
and was now within a day’s march of Newcastle.

After consultation with his advisers, General Forster did not think
it prudent to give battle to Carpenter till he could be certain of
the support of Lord Kenmure and Brigadier Mackintosh, and he therefore
determined to move to Hexham.

Accordingly, on the following day, he marched with his whole force to
Morpeth, and on the common near the town was joined by the Merse troop.
Learning that General Carpenter had reached Newcastle, he continued his
march to Hexham.

Not without great reluctance was the proposed attack on Newcastle
abandoned by the insurgents, for had they gained that important town,
they would have been masters of the county.



XIII.--ORGANISATION OF THE FORCE.

|Lord Denventwater was close to his own domains, and a messenger having
been sent to Dilston to acquaint the countess with the arrival of the
insurgent army at Hexham, she immediately rode over thither, accompanied
by Dorothy Forster, who was staying with her at the time.

Though rejoiced to see her husband, the countess appeared greatly
disappointed that so little had been achieved, and told the earl she
would rather have heard from him at Newcastle, than have seen him at
Hexham.

Nor did Dorothy Forster show more consideration to her brother, but
blamed him severely for quitting Warkworth.

“What could we do there?” cried the general. “We should have been cut
off from a junction with our Scottish allies and compelled to
surrender.”

“Now you have lost the whole of the coast from Barnborough to
Newcastle,” cried Dorothy.

“One daring deed has been done,” said the earl. “The fort on Holy Island
has been surprised by Lancelot Errington. But I fear he will not be
able to hold it.”

“You ought to go to his succour,” said Dorothy to her brother.

“You expect impossibilities from us,” replied the general.

“Nothing is impossible,” rejoined Dorothy. “I shall never be content
till you have fought a battle and gained a victory. I do not like a
retreat.”

“Women know nothing of warfare,” said the general, shrugging his
shoulders.

Just then an express arrived from Lord Kenmure, saying that he had
arrived at Rothbury with the whole of his force, and desired to know
whether he should remain there, or advance.

“Bid him advance!” cried Dorothy.

“Methinks I had best resign my command to you,” observed the general.
“But I must beg you to cease this interference.” Then addressing the
messenger, he said, “Go back to his lordship and say I will join him
to-morrow at Rothbury.”

“Hold, General,” cried the countess. “Had you not better give this
matter some consideration?”

“It requires none,” replied Forster. “Take my message to Lord Kenmure,”
 he added to the messenger, who immediately departed.

After some further conversation, the countess and Dorothy, who had not
dismounted, rode back through the woods to the castle.

Meanwhile, Charles Radclyffe and Captain John Shaftoe had set off to
Dilston with a dozen men, and after searching the old tower and some
other places, brought back all the arms they could find.

A very important matter had now to be settled, which had already been
too long deferred. This was the organisation of the force, and in
carrying out this necessary measure Colonel Oxburgh was of utmost use.

After some deliberation it was decided that the division commanded by
General Forster should consist of five troops, of which that of the
Earl of Derwentwater ranked first, and was to be commanded by Charles
Radclyffe and Captain John Shaftoe, whom we have just mentioned. The
second troop, belonging to Lord Widdrington, was to be commanded by
Captain Thomas Errington of Beaufront, who had formerly been in the
French service, and was brother of Lancelot Errington, who had just
surprised Holy Island.

The third and forth troops, were respectively commanded by Captain
John Hunter and Captain Robert Douglas, the first of whom had been a
contraband trader of great daring and skill, and the other a Border
farmer, who had been employed by Forster in searching for horses and
arms, and had been extraordinarily successful.

Some objection was made to these two persons on the score of position,
but it was urged by Forster that they would be of great use.

The fifth and last troops was commanded by Captain Wogan.

The first and second troops were composed of gentlemen, who were quite
as well mounted and well armed as their leaders. Many of them had
thoroughbred horses--much better adapted for speed than endurance--and
the rest were provided with hunters. Not being able to procure military
saddles, they were obliged to content themselves with those in ordinary
use; and their equipments were by no means complete. Still, in spite of
these drawbacks, they presented a very gallant appearance when drawn up
in the market-place to proclaim King James.



XIV.--THE EARL’S BRIEF VISIT TO DILSTON.

|After the business of the day was concluded General Forster and the
officers sat down to dinner, but Lord Derwentwater excused himself from
joining the party as he wished to ride over to Dilston. He did not take
a servant with him, and said he should return by midnight.

It was growing dusk as he rode through the woods that skirted his
domains, but it was quite light enough to enable him to distinguish the
castle. His heart was sad as he gazed at it for he felt he could not
remain there. The place seemed his own no longer.

However, he strove to stifle these painful feelings, and they soon gave
way to other emotions.

Still, he could not banish the notion that the place was changed, though
in what respect he could scarcely tell, for a groom came to take
his horse, and Newbiggin welcomed him at the entrance, and with a
manifestation of delight that could not fail to touch his master.

“I hope your lordship is coming to remain with us--at least, for a few
days?” said the butler.

“Alas! no,” replied the earl. “I must return to Hexham to-night, and
to-morrow morning we march to Rothbury.”

The butler looked quite cast down.

“I fear Dilston will never again be what it was, my lord,” he said. “How
I wish your lordship could give up this perilous expedition and return
to us.”

“That is impossible, Newbiggin,” said the earl, scarcely able to repress
a sigh. “I must go on now. But where is the countess?”

“She is here,” cried a well-known voice.

And next moment she flew towards him, and was clasped in his arms.

It is very questionable whether Lord Denventwater’s brief visit to his
mansion was not productive of more pain to him than pleasure.

So many fresh anxieties were aroused that they marred his happiness, and
the moments flew by so quickly that they seemed gone ere they could be
numbered. How much had he to say to the countess! And yet how little
was said. Half the time they sat together they were silent, but it was
a silence more eloquent than words. And when the countess spoke it was
ever to incite him to brave deeds.

After awhile they were joined by Dorothy Forster and Father Norham, and
then the conversation turned chiefly on the incidents of the march.
The countess and Dorothy still believed that the insurrection would be
successful, but the priest was less hopeful.

“But where and when will the battle be fought that is to give the crown
to King James?” inquired Dorothy.

“That I cannot tell you,” replied the earl. “But I do not think it will
be fought in Scotland, though we shall probably march there to meet
our allies. However, a few days may decide. General Carpenter is now at
Newcastle, with four regiments of dragoons, and we have yet to learn his
plans. Should he not find out we have flown, he may march to attack us
at Hexham, and then you will see him here.”

Never did the devout Earl of Derwentwater neglect his religious duties.
Mass was therefore performed at the little chapel before his departure,
and at the conclusion of the service he did not re-enter the mansion,
but tenderly embracing the countess, bade farewell to her and Dorothy,
and mounting his dapple-grey steed took his way alone through the wood
to Hexham.

XV--HOW THE EARL WAS RESCUED BY NATHAN THE WOODCUTTER.

|The moon was shining brightly, but her beams could not penetrate the
depths of the narrow forest road along which he had proceeded for nearly
a mile when he heard the sound of horses’ feet behind him.

Not for a moment imagining it could be an enemy, but thinking it highly
probable a messenger might have been sent after him by the countess, he
halted.

“Is your lordship there?” cried a voice.

“Ay,” he replied. “What would you with me?”

“You must be pleased to come back with us,” rejoined the speaker. “You
are wanted at the castle.”

“What has happened,” cried the earl uneasily.

No immediate answer being returned, his suspicions were
aroused--especially as he could hear the two horsemen, who had now come
up, talking together in a low tone--and he was just about to gallop
off, when one of the men dashed suddenly forward, seized his bridle, and
presenting a pistol at his head, told him he was a prisoner.

“Ah! I now know who and what you are, villains,” cried the earl.

“We are loyal subjects of King George, my lord,” replied the man who
held his bridle, “and as such are bound to capture all those who appear
in arms against him. We have been very lucky to-night in arresting
a rebel leader. Your lordship will not be surprised to learn that we
intend to take you as a prisoner to Newcastle.” The earl repressed the
wrathful exclamation that rose to his lips, and said:

“Have any of my household turned traitors?”

“No, my lord,” replied the man. “You may set your mind at ease on that
score. All your servants are true to you. We are Sir William Lorraine’s
officers, and have been employed by him to watch Dilston. We were
therefore aware of your visit this evening, and followed you on your
return to Hexham, being resolved on your arrest.”

“If your lordship is content to go with us quietly,” said the other man,
“we will shew you every attention. But if you attempt to escape, we will
shoot you through the head, without hesitation. And now be pleased to
deliver up your arms.”

“I have no arms except my sword,” replied the earl, “and I will part
with life rather than with it.”

While the man, whose hands were disengaged, was striving to take the
weapon from him, the fierce barking of a dog was heard, accompanied by
shouts, and the earl at once comprehending from the sounds that Nathan
the woodcutter was at hand with Cheviot, called out loudly:

“To the rescue, Nathan; to the rescue!”

“Here I am, my lord,” responded the sturdy woodcutter, as he and his
hound burst through the trees.

A bullet whistled past his head, as he appeared on the scene, but
luckily did him no injury.

Next moment, however, the stout cudgel he grasped was falling heavily
upon the earl’s captors, while Cheviot’s fierce barking terrified their
horses so much, that the animals broke away in spite of their riders’
efforts to restrain them, and being allowed no rest by the hound who
continued to attack their heels, were soon driven off altogether.

“I shall not forget the great service you have just rendered me,
Nathan,” said Lord Derwentwater. “But for you these villains would have
carried me off as a prisoner.”

“I am right glad I arrived in time,” replied the woodcutter. “Cheviot
warned me of your lordship’s danger.”

“Ah! did he so?” cried the earl.

And when the faithful animal came back from the chase, he warmly praised
him and caressed him.

“Now, hie thee to the castle, Nathan,” said the earl. “See her ladyship,
and tell her from what a peril you have rescued me. She will know how to
recompense you.”

“I want no recompense, my lord,” replied the honest woodcutter. “I only
wish I could always be at hand to succour your lordship when in need.”

“I wish you could,” said the earl.

With this, he galloped off and arrived without further molestation at
Hexham; while Nathan proceeded, as bidden, to the castle, and related
the earl’s adventure in the forest to the countess.

A good supper for each of them was the immediate reward of himself and
his hound.

END OF BOOK THE FOURTH,



_BOOK THE FIFTH_--THE MARCH FROM HEXHAM TO LONGTOWN.

[Illustration: 0148]



I.--THE JUNCTION WITH THE SOUTH COUNTRY SCOTS.

|Next morning, at a very early hour, the whole of the insurgent troops
assembled in the market-place of the ancient town of Hexham, preparatory
to marching to Roth bury.

Here Lord Widdrington took leave of his friends for a time, having,
at General Forster’s earnest request, undertaken another journey into
Lancashire to confer with the Jacobites and High Church Tories in that
county, and endeavour to induce them to rise without delay.

The chief command of his troop was therefore temporarily given to Lord
Derwentwater.

Precisely as the abbey church clock struck six, the insurgents rode out
of Hexham. The weather was fine, and the men in good spirits. They met
with no misadventure on the road, nor did they hear any tidings of the
enemy, but after a long halt at Kirkharle, they reached Rothbury in the
evening.

Lord Kenmure, the commander of the South Country Scots, accompanied by
the Earl of Nithsdale, the Earl of Wintoun, the Earl of Carnwath, and
Lord Nairn rode out to meet them, and the greatest satisfaction was
evinced on both sides that a junction of their forces had, at length,
been effected. Still, it was the opinion of Lord Kenmure and the other
Scottish nobles that they must not venture upon an encounter with the
Government troops till they were further strengthened by a junction with
Mackintosh and the Highlanders, and they therefore proposed to set out
to Wooler next day. This proposition being agreed to by General Forster
and his officers, the horses were stabled, and the men quartered as
well as circumstances would admit, while their leaders sat down to an
excellent supper provided for them by the Scottish nobles at the Blue
Star. Capital claret, it appeared, could be had at Rothbury, and a good
deal of it was drunk that night. Before they separated, the English and
Scottish commanders became boon companions.

Next morning the combined forces proceeded to Wooler, and being greatly
fatigued by their march remained there during the whole of the next day,
though their quarters were far from satisfactory. At Wooler they were
joined by the Reverend Robert Patten of Allendale, whom General Forster
appointed his chaplain, and by Mr. Lancelot Errington, the gallant
young gentleman who had succeeded in capturing a fort on Holy Island, as
already related. Mr. Errington, however, not receiving any supplies, was
attacked, and taken prisoner by the Governor of Berwick, but speedily
effected his escape, and procuring a horse, joined his friends at
Wooler. His brother, Captain Thomas Errington now commanded Lord
Widdrington’s troops, so that he was at once appointed one of the
officers.

Intelligence was brought by this gentleman that Brigadier Mackintosh and
the Highlanders had reached Dunse, and meant to attack Kelso, which was
occupied by Sir William Bennet of Grubet, with a strong party of militia
and some volunteers. Sir William, it was said, had barricaded the town,
and made other preparations for its defence.

On hearing this, Lord Kenmure and General Forster decided upon marching
to Kelso to aid Mackintosh in storming the town. Accordingly, they set
out next morning, passing by Humbledon Heugh, Akeld, and over the hill
ridges near Kirk Newton. As they proceeded, Captain Douglas, who was
well acquainted with the country, and accustomed to Border forays, as
we have already stated, managed to seize several horses, and likewise
captured Mr. Selby of Kilham, a volunteer, who was repairing to Kelso,
to Sir William Bennet’s assistance.

About mid-day the insurgents came in sight of the beautiful town of
Kelso, with its ancient abbey so charmingly situated on the banks of the
Tweed, and before proceeding further, halted on a moor to call over the
rolls of the men. While the leaders of each troop were thus employed,
word was brought by a scout, that Sir William Bennet, alarmed by the
report of the advance of the Highlanders, had abandoned the town,
whereupon they at once resumed their march, and fording the Tweed,
entered the town without opposition--the barricades being already pulled
down. But though the inhabitants offered no resistance, they received
them with great coldness, and eyed them with sullen looks. No shouts
were heard, as the insurgents rode along one of the main streets to the
market-place where they drew up.

Brigadier Mackintosh had not yet arrived, but he was known to be close
at hand, and Lord Kenmure feeling that the compliment was due to the
valiant Highland commander, went to meet him, leaving General Forster
and the English division in the town.

Lord Kenmure and the Lowlanders had not ridden further than Ednam Bridge
when the shrill notes of the bagpipes announced the approach of the
Highlanders, and in another minute Mackintosh and his detachment came in
sight.

As soon as the Highlanders understood that the troops in front of them
were friends, they set up a great shout, and quickened their pace.

The Lowlanders responded with equal vigour, and the greatest enthusiasm
was displayed on both sides.

Nothing could be more cordial than the meeting between the two
commanders. Lord Kenmure was loud in his praises of the brigadier’s
skill and bravery, and told him that he looked upon the crossing of the
Firth, under the circumstances, as one of the most remarkable exploits
ever performed. His lordship then turned to Lord Charles Murray, Lord
Nairn, Major Forbes, Logie Drummond, and others who were standing by,
and expressed his admiration of their gallantry.

By this time the Earl of Wintoun, the Earl of Carnwath, Captain
Hume, and the other Lowland officers had come up, and salutations were
exchanged on all hands.

When these greetings were over, the two detachments, which had now, to
a certain extent, become mixed together, marched to Kelso--the pipers
taking the lead, and playing lustily.



II.--MACKINTOSH’S ACHIEVEMENTS.

|Before proceeding, it may be necessary briefly to explain what the
brigadier had accomplished since he quitted Perth about ten days
previously.

At that time, the detachment under his command consisted of six
regiments, and with a number of gentlemen volunteers formed a total of
two thousand five hundred men.

The brigadier’s orders from the Earl of Mar were to get as many men as
he could over the Firth, and though the channel was defended by ships
of war, smacks, and boats filled with armed men, Mackintosh courageously
made the attempt, and despite all the exertions of the cruisers to
prevent him, succeeded in reaching the East Lothian coast with fifteen
hundred men--the Earl of Strathmore’s battalion being forced back and
compelled to go on shore on the Isle of May. This was the exploit to
which Lord Kenmure had referred in terms of such high admiration.

With the troops he had thus brought across the Firth, the brigadier
at once marched to Haddington, where he was invited by the Scottish
Jacobites to make an attempt on Edinburgh, and unhesitatingly complied
with the request.

He advanced as far as Jock’s Lodge, but not meeting with the promised
support, he turned to Leith, and took possession of a partly-demolished
fort, built by Oliver Cromwell, and proceeded to barricade it.

Next day the Duke of Argyle, who had hastened from Stirling to the
protection of Edinburgh, summoned him to surrender. On his refusal,
the duke threatened to bombard the fort on the morrow, but in the night
Mackintosh withdrew, and conducted his men cautiously along the sands at
low water to Seaton House--a castle belonging to Lord Wintoun.

Here he posted himself securely with his force, and laughed at the
threats of Lord Torpichen and the Earl of Rothes, who came from
Edinburgh to dislodge him with two hundred dragoons and three hundred
volunteers.

At Seaton House he remained fora couple of days, and in that short
interval stored it with provisions to stand a siege, when he learnt that
the South Country Scots and Northumbrians had risen, and received an
express from Forster praying him to meet him at Coldstream or Kelso.

Another express came from the Earl of Mar bidding him march south, and
join the English insurgents.

The latter order could not be disobeyed, and he therefore quitted the
stronghold he had gained, and marched to Longformacus, harassed in the
rear by the Government troops.

But this pursuit did not prevent him from plundering the house of Doctor
Sinclair, who had incurred the animosity of the Jacobites by shooting
young Hepburn of Keith.

Continuing his march to Dunse, the brigadier rested there for a day,
proclaimed James the Third, collected the excise dues, and received the
very satisfactory intelligence that Sir William Bennet had abandoned
Kelso. No longer troubled by the Government troops, and renovated by
the much-needed repose, he marched on next day to Kelso, and was met at
Ednam Bridge, as we have related, by the Lowlanders.

Such were the main incidents that had occurred during Mackintosh’s
memorable march towards the south. He had proved himself a thoroughly
good soldier, equal to every emergency, and not to be checked by danger
or difficulty, and fully deserved the encomiums passed upon him by Lord
Ken mure.

As the Highlanders entered Kelso, with bagpipes playing, colours flying,
and drums beating, the inhabitants flocked forth to gaze at them, and
were greatly struck by the stalwart appearance and martial bearing of
the men.

Brigadier Mackintosh, of whose doings so much had been heard, excited
great curiosity, and the tall figure, strongly marked features, and
athletic limbs of the veteran warrior would have pointed him out to all
beholders, even if he had not marched at the head of his detachment.

Throughout their progress neither the brigadier nor any of his officers
had mounted a horse, but marched on foot with the men, and crossed all
rivers in their Highland garb.

Amongst those who attracted most attention was Lord

Charles Murray, who was remarkable for his graceful person and good
looks.

Lord Nairn and some of the subaltern officers were also thought very
fine men.

Indeed, the Highlanders generally produced a favourable impression on
the good folks of Kelso, who gave them a far warmer welcome than they
had accorded to their allies.

The junction between the confederate forces formed a curious and
interesting scene. When the brigadier first beheld the Northumbrian
detachment drawn up in the market-place, he was struck by the handsome
show made by both horses and men, but when he began to scrutinise them,
he quickly changed his opinion.

“Saul o’ my body! this will never do!” he exclaimed to Lord Charles
Murray. “Those abalyiements are na fit for war. Saw ye ever before a
dragoon with a hunting-saddle on his horse’s back, a toasting-fork by
his side, or a riding-whip in his hand? I trow not. They should get
basket-hilted broad swords like our ain, saddles wi’ high pommels and
holsters, and as to those riding-whips, I should like to lay them across
the shoulders of the bearers.”

“The men certainly look better equipped for flight than for attack,”
 replied Lord Charles. “But we must not judge them too harshly. They
may fight well in spite of their dress swords, and charge even with
race-horses.”

“Vera true,” replied the brigadier, laughing. “And here comes General
Forster.”

“By my faith! he looks more like an English fox-hunter than a soldier,”
 remarked Lord Charles in an undertone. “I wonder how they came to choose
him.”

“They couldna help it,” replied the brigadier. “Lord Derwentwater was
the right man, yet being a Papist, he wouldn’t do.”

Attended by Lord Charles Murray, Lord Nairn, Major Forbes, and Logie
Drummond, the brigadier stepped forward to meet General Forster, who
was closely followed by Lord Derwentwater and the other Northumbrian
officers.

At the same time Lord Kenmure came forward, and presented the two
commanders to each other.

The meeting was very friendly, and the brigadier praised

Forster’s troops, but told him plainly he ought to get different saddles
and better swords.

“So we will, as soon as we can procure them,” replied Forster. “But they
are not to be had.”

The English officers were next presented to the brigadier, who seemed
best pleased with Lord Derwentwater. From the first moment, the rough
old soldier conceived a friendship for the young noble, which he never
afterwards lost.

The various troops marched past the three commanders, who remained
for some time longer in the market-place, and then proceeded to their
quarters.



III.--SUNDAY AT KELSO.

|After the junction of the confederate forces had been effected, it was
found that they formed an army of two thousand men, of whom the majority
were Highlanders.

Though the force was still small, so much confidence was now felt in
Mackintosh, and such strong hopes were entertained that large additions
would soon be received, that no misgivings were felt.

On the day of the junction, the commanders and officers dined together,
and the best feeling was manifested. All old jealousies, if any had
existed, were banished. A warm tribute was paid by Lord Derwentwater
to the valour and skill of Brigadier Mackintosh, with which the veteran
warrior was much gratified.

Next day, being Sunday, great discretion had to be used by the leaders
of an army composed of Presbyterians, High Church Tories, and Roman
Catholics.

That such discordant elements could be reconciled--even for a brief
season--seemed impossible. Nevertheless, by the judicious management of
Lord Kenmure, who retained the command of the confederate force so long
as it continued in Scotland, the thing was accomplished.

At this time, three clergymen were attached to the expedition--the
Reverend William Irvine, chaplain to the Earl of Carnwath, an
Episcopalian and Nonjuror--the Reverend Robert Patten, of Allendale,
who belonged to the High Church, and had just been appointed chaplain
to General Forster--and the Reverend Mr. Buxton, likewise a Church of
England divine, who might be considered chaplain to the entire English
force, since there was no Roman Catholic priest.

By Lord Kenmure’s orders all the officers and men attended at the Great
Kirk, where the Church of England service was performed.

The large congregation thus assembled presented an extraordinary
sight, and the behaviour of the men was extremely decorous--that of the
Highlanders especially so. They nearly filled the body of the sacred
edifice, and listened with devout attention to the discourse of
Mr. Patten, who took for his text, “_The right of the firstborn is
his_”--applying it to the cause for which they were fighting.

In the afternoon, an equally large congregation assembled, consisting
chiefly of Highlanders, to hear the Reverend William Irvine, the
Scottish Nonjuror, who treated them to a sermon he had preached to Lord
Dundee before the battle of Killiecrankie.

It was thought that this fiery sermon was given in deference to the
wishes of Brigadier Mackintosh; and it would almost seem so, since the
old Highlander listened to it with profound attention, and afterwards
expressed his satisfaction to the preacher.

A very favourable impression was produced on the Kelso folk by the
exemplary conduct of the troops on the Sabbath; but they were not quite
so well pleased when Mackintosh next morning, while searching for arms,
discovered several barrels of gunpowder concealed in the vaults of
the kirk, and swore if he could catch the traitors who had placed them
there, he would hang them like dogs.

The brigadier was likewise extraordinarily active in foraging and
plundering, and seized all the public revenues without scruple.

Under other circumstances, Lord Derwentwater would have enjoyed his
visit to Kelso, but his mind was so troubled, that even Roxburgh Castle,
Floors, or the charming views of the Tweed and the Teviot afforded him
very little pleasure.

His heart was at Dilston.



IV.--A COUNCIL OF WAR.

|On the third day after their arrival at Kelso, one of the scouts sent
by Lord Kenmure to watch the movements of the Government troops, brought
word that General Carpenter had reached Wooler with a force of nine
hundred men, consisting of Hotham’s regiment of foot, and three
regiments of dragoons, and intended next day to attack Kelso.

On receipt of this important intelligence, a council of war was
immediately summoned, which was attended by all the commanders and
officers.

The main point to be considered was whether they should await the
English general’s attack at Kelso, and barricade the town, or cross the
Tweed, and meet him.

Lord Derwentwater was decidedly of opinion that the latter course
should be adopted, and maintained that their force being double that of
Carpenter, the result of an engagement could not be doubtful--although
the Government general possessed three regiments of experienced
dragoons.

But his advice, though approved by General Forster and the English
officers, was opposed by the Earl of Wintoun.

“As Scotsmen,” said his lordship, “we are best able to serve the king’s
cause in our own country, and are therefore most reluctant to cross the
Border. Is it not so?” he added, appealing to his compatriots--all of
whom assented except Mackintosh.

“But you have the Earl of Mar’s orders to advance,” remarked General
Forster. “How can you disobey them?”

“The Earl of Mar is not aware of our exact position,” replied Lord
Wintoun, “or his orders would be countermanded. At present, all
communication with him is difficult, and if we enter England it will
be entirely cut off. But it may be opened--and this is the plan of
operation I would recommend. Falling back to the north-west, attacking
Dumfries and Glasgow on our way, we shall be able to join the Western
Clans, and, combining with them, can either cross the Firth above
Stirling, or proceed as the Earl of Mar may direct.”

This proposition was manifestly to the taste of the Scottish leaders,
most of whom signified their approval of it.

“But why throw away our present chance?” cried the Earl of Derwentwater.
“Why not attack Carpenter when we can do so with every advantage? From
the report just received he is greatly our inferior in numbers, and
his troops are exhausted. The prestige of a victory would be of immense
service to the cause.”

“We do not care to cross the Tweed,” again objected Lord Wintoun.

“If you won’t cross the Tweed, my lord, General Carpenter will,”
 rejoined Lord Derwentwater, contemptuously.

“He will gain little by the movement,” retorted Lord Wintoun. “He will
find Kelso evacuated, and will not dare follow us.”

“Is this the sort of fighting we are to expect?” cried Lord
Derwentwater. “Are we always to retreat on the appearance of the foe? We
Northumbrians did not come to Scotland to join the Western Clans, but to
meet our brave ally Brigadier Mackintosh, who is pledged to march with
us to London, and we claim fulfilment of his promise. As to General
Carpenter, if our allies won’t help us, we will attack him alone. Do I
not express your sentiments, general?” he added to Forster.

“My opinion decidedly is, that Carpenter ought to be met by the whole
confederate force,” said Forster. “My own division is not strong enough
to encounter him, and would incur certain defeat.”

“Again, I say, the Scots will not cross the Tweed,” remarked Lord
Wintoun. “If our English allies choose to sacrifice themselves, we may
grieve, but we cannot help it.”

Restraining himself with difficulty, the Earl of Derwentwater turned to
Mackintosh, who had not hitherto spoken, and said:

“Do you mean to desert us, brigadier?”

“No, my lord,” was the reply.

“Then let the Lowlanders join the Western Clans if they will,” said the
earl. “We can do without them.”

Lord Wintoun placed his hand upon his sword, and the other Lowland
leaders would have fiercely resented the remark, if Lord Kenmure had not
interposed.

“We must have no quarrels among ourselves,” he said. “When Lord
Derwentwater becomes calmer, he will regret having spoken thus hastily.
As yet, I am chief in command of the whole insurgent force, and my
orders must be obeyed.”

“They shall be obeyed by me, my lord,” said General Forster. “But I
pray you not to take us further into Scotland. My troops will assuredly
revolt.”

“We will come to a decision at Jedburgh,” said Lord Kenmure, somewhat
evasively. “Meantime, precise information must be obtained as to the
movements of the enemy. You shall go on the errand, Captain Gordon,” he
added, addressing a tall, exceedingly handsome young man in the Lowland
garb.

Captain Gordon, an officer in the Merse troop, commanded by the
Honourable Captain Hume, and distinguished for his courage and activity,
seemed well pleased at being chosen for the dangerous expedition.

“I will rejoin your lordship at Jedburgh,” he said. “But if I find
General Carpenter and his force on the move, you will see me sooner.”

With this he bowed and quitted the room, and almost before the council
had broken up he was on the other side of the Tweed.

“Brigadier,” said General Forster, addressing Mackintosh, after some
further discussion had taken place; “before we separate I must ask you
plainly if you mean to march with us to London?”

“I will answer frankly, general,” replied Mackintosh. “My men will never
enter England unless they are certain of their pay.”

“Is that the only difficulty?” said Lord Derwentwater. “I feared from
what has been said, that they might be averse to a campaign in England.”

“So they are, my lord,” replied the brigadier. “But possibly their
aversion may be overcome by the certainty of good pay.”

“Make them quite easy on that score,” said Lord Derwentwater. “I will
provide the money.”

“When my men learn your lordship’s generous promise,” said Mackintosh,
“I doubt not they will be very grateful.”

“‘Tis but a small subsidy to the king,” said Lord Derwentwater. “I would
give my whole property to set him on the throne.”

“Truly, your lordship sets us all a good example, which we ought to
follow,” said Lord Kenmure. “And now for Jedburgh!”

About an hour later, much to the relief of the inhabitants, who began
to fear that a battle would be fought under their walls, the whole
insurgent force quitted Kelso, having stayed there three days.



V--FURTHER DISSENSIONS.

|The Northumbrians reached their destination first, and as the others
did not arrive, they rode back to see what had happened to them and
found the South Country Scots drawn up on the road about two miles
from the town, and waiting for the Highlanders, who, in their turn, had
halted to receive General Carpenter--believing he was in pursuit. These
false alarms caused some delay, but eventually the whole force reached
Jedburgh.

Next day another council of war was held, and the same dissension
prevailed as before, threatening to end in a rupture among the chiefs.

Previously to the meeting Lord Wintoun, who had had a private conference
with Mackintosh, was persuaded that the brigadier would support him.
But he was mistaken--the old warrior would not desert the Northumbrians,
though it was evident he himself was unwilling to quit Scotland.

While they were still engaged in angry and fruitless discussion, Captain
Gordon returned.

“What news do you bring us, sir?” demanded Lord Kenmure. “Has General
Carpenter crossed the Border?”

“He has, my lord,” replied Captain Gordon; “and the greater part of his
force is quartered at the Yetholms within eight miles of this place.
Troops are cantoned at Hounham, Mendrum, Town-Yetholm, Kirk-Yetholm,
and Morbattle, as I myself have ascertained. I ventured so near them at
Morbattle, that I was discovered and pursued by a dozen of Churchill’s
dragoons, within two miles of Jedburgh, when they gave up the chase. No
doubt they believed we were still at Kelso, but they must now have found
out their mistake.”

“Captain Gordon,” said Mackintosh, “so far as you can judge, what is the
condition of the enemy?”

“Their horses are jaded, or I should not have escaped,” replied Gordon,
“and I am certain the foot, of whom there must be five or six hundred,
are fatigued with their long march. I therefore feel convinced there
will be no general attack to-day, and I think we might surprise them.”

“You hear what Captain Gordon says, my lord?” cried Mackintosh, turning
to Lord Kenmure. “From the observations he has just made he is of
opinion we may surprise the enemy.”

“General Carpenter himself is at Kirk-Yetholm,” remarked Captain Gordon.

“So much the better,” said the brigadier. “Having taken up a position
there, he will make no further advance to-day. Our whole force is in
marching order. Let us make the attack at once. By using the utmost
expedition we shall take him unprepared.”

“That is certain,” said Captain Gordon; “and I do not for a moment doubt
that the attack will be successful.”

“I hope the plan meets with your lordship’s approval?” said Lord
Derwentwater to Kenmure.

The chief commander, however, made no direct answer, but turning to the
Northumbrian leader, observed:

“What says General Forster?”

“‘Tis a bold step, and requires consideration,” replied the other.

“The blow must be struck at once, or not at all,” said Mackintosh.
“While we are deliberating the chance will be lost.”

“We have not sufficient horse,” rejoined Forster.

“We have enow for our purpose,” said Lord Derwentwater. “My lord, in the
king’s name, I ask you to make the attack.”

“Ha! this sounds like a command,” cried Lord Kenmure, angrily. “Your own
general hesitates--if he will go on, I will.”

“For Heaven’s sake come to a speedy decision!” said the earl to Forster.
“Every minute is precious. There is no risk.”

“I don’t know that,” replied Forster. “I won’t run headlong into
a danger that can be avoided. We may find General Carpenter better
prepared for us than we expect. His dragoons are far more numerous than
our cavalry.”

“But our horses are fresh, general,” observed Captain Gordon. “I repeat
my opinion that a prompt attack would be successful.”

“I won’t hazard it,” said Lord Kenmure.

“Then your lordship refuses to lead us to certain victory,” said Lord
Derwentwater.

Lord Kenmure shrugged his shoulders.

“I have given you my decision, and I shall adhere to it.”

Lord Derwentwater could not repress an exclamation of rage.

Mackintosh looked equally angry, but felt it was useless to interfere.

“We shall be better prepared on some future day,” observed Forster.

“Never!” exclaimed the brigadier, contemptuously. “Never shall we be
better prepared than now! Never shall we have the enemy at greater
advantage!’’

“At all events, let us stay where we are,” said Lord Derwentwater.
“General Carpenter will think we are retreating if we march to Hawick.”

“Nor will he be far wide of the truth if he does think so,” said
Mackintosh.

But these expressions of disapproval were entirely unheeded, and
the march to Hawick took place, greatly to the annoyance of Lord
Derwentwater.

Determined to reconnoitre the enemy, his lordship requested Captain
Gordon to accompany him, and set off with a small party of horse towards
the Yetholms.

Nothing occurred to indicate that the enemy were on the move till he
came within a couple of miles of Kirk-Yetholm, when from the brow of a
hill he distinguished their vanguard, and at once comprehended that a
part of the force, if not the whole, must be marching to Kelso.

Satisfied with what he had seen, and beginning to be of opinion
that General Carpenter would not have been so easily surprised as he
imagined, he turned back, and riding quickly, overtook the insurgent
army before it reached Hawick.

It afterwards appeared that the earl had narrowly escaped capture,
and that he and his companions were indebted for their escape to the
swiftness of their horses. Had he descended the hill whence he descried
the enemy, he must have been taken prisoner.



VI.--THE HIGHLANDERS REFUSE TO CROSS THE BORDER.

|Next day symptoms of revolt began to appear among the Highlanders, who
had been told by Lord Wintoun that if they went to England they would
infallibly be defeated by the superior force brought against them, and
would either be cut to pieces, taken prisoners and hanged, or sold as
slaves to the plantations.

Assembling on the Moot Hill, at the head of the town, they refused to
come down, even at the orders of their chief, and told him if they were
led against the enemy they would fight, but that they would not cross
the Border.

“Wherefore not?” he cried. “Why the devil are you afraid to fight the
Southrons on their aim ground? You are ready to meet them here, but not
south of the Solway Firth. Your pay is assured you, and it will be your
ain faut if ye dinna double it.”

“But they tell us we shall never come back,” rejoined the sergeant, who
acted as spokesman.

“Who tells you so?” demanded the brigadier.

“One who knows what he says, and wouldn’t deceive us,” replied the
sergeant.

“Zounds, man! do you think I would deceive you?” cried the brigadier. “I
tell you that in England you will get plenty to eat and drink--plenty of
plunder--whereas in Scotland you have nothing but starvation to
expect. Now choose! Will you follow me, who have led you on thus far
triumphantly, and will lead you on to further conquest--or desert me,
when I most need your services, for one who has neither the will nor the
power to reward you?”

“We will follow you, brigadier,” shouted the majority of the men. “Take
us where you will.”

“I will first take you where each of you can get a mutchkin of whisky to
drink the king’s health. You will then prepare to march to Langholm, on
the road to Long-town!”

After resting for the night at Langholm, where they had some difficulty
in finding quarters, the insurgents continued their march next day,
uncertain whether they should proceed to Langholm or Ecclefechan, when a
decision was unexpectedly brought about.



VII.--LORD WIDDRINGTON RETURNS FROM LANCASHIRE.

|While crossing a wide moor, they perceived a party of horsemen coming
towards them, and understood from the shouts of these persons that they
must be friends.

On a nearer approach the insurgents discovered that the leader of the
party was Lord Widdrington. He had just returned from his visit to
Lancashire, and had brought with him a very important document, which
he was extremely anxious to show to the leaders of the expedition, as it
could not fail to govern their future plans.

Upon this, a general halt was called, and the commanders and officers
having assembled, Lord Widdrington read his paper to them.

It was to the effect, that if the combined forces of the Scottish
Lowlanders and Highlanders, who had risen for King James the Third,
would direct their march to Lancashire, the High Church Tories of
Manchester and the neighbourhood, and the whole of the Roman Catholic
gentry of Lancashire and Cheshire, would rise in a mass, and join them
with an army of twenty thousand men.

“Twenty thousand men!” exclaimed Lord Kenmure. “Are you certain of this,
my lord?”

“I am certain that our appearance in Lancashire will be the signal of
a general rising,” replied Lord Widdrington. “There is a very strong
Jacobite feeling throughout the county. But the inhabitants will not
rise till we appear.”

“Then we must go to Lancashire,” said Lord Kenmure.

“In three days we shall be in the heart of the county,” said General
Forster.

“And surrounded by a host of friends,” cried Lord Widdrington. “I have
had promises from all quarters. And you will see that this document
bears a number of important names. The first signature is that of my
brother-in-law, Mr. Townley, of Townley. The second is that of Mr. Ralph
Standish, of Standish. Next follows Sir Francis Anderton, of Lostock.
Then come Mr. Shuttle-worth, of Shuttleworth, Mr. Richard Chorley, of
Chorley, Mr. Gabriel Hesketh, of Whitehall, near St. Michael’s-le-Wyre,
and Mr. John Leyburne, of Natesby--all men of good family.”

“But all Roman Catholics, I suppose?” said Lord Ken-mure.

“True, my lord--but they are none the worse for their religion. But
there are many other names on the list. Pray look at the document.”

“It is not needful,” replied Lord Kenmure. Then turning to the others,
he added, “I am of opinion that we ought forthwith to quit Scotland and
march to Lancashire. How say you, my lords and gentlemen? Shall it be
so?”

A hearty response was given in the affirmative, with but one dissentient
voice--that of Lord Wintoun.

“I am still as much opposed to the plan as ever.” said his lordship. “I
have entire faith in Lord Widdrington’s representations. I know he is
incapable of deceiving us; but I place no reliance on the promises of
support he has received. If the Lancashire Jacobites meant to rise, they
would not wait for our coming.”

“You do not know them as well as I do, my lord,” said Lord Widdrington.
“I can assure you they are in earnest.”

“If you despair of the expedition, my lord, leave it,” said Lord
Derwentwater. “But do not throw cold water upon it.”

“No, it shall never be said that the Earl of Wintoun deserted King
James’s cause,” rejoined the other. “But the day will come when you will
bitterly regret that you did not follow my counsel.”

“Meantime, we are well content to march to Lancashire,” said Lord
Derwentwater.

“Ay, to Lancashire! to Lancashire!” cried several voices.

The matter being now settled, orders were given to march to Langholm.

Brigadier Mackintosh, however, had a difficult task to get his men to
move. When they understood it was decided that the force should march
into England, a portion of the Highlanders again rebelled, and refused
to proceed further.

Once more the brigadier tried the effect of persuasion, and partly by
promises--partly by threats--induced the men to follow him.

They went on very reluctantly for three or four miles, till they drew
near the Esk, when the mutineers separating themselves from their
comrades, ran towards the river, with the intention of crossing it and
flying towards Ecclefechan.

But the brigadier was beforehand with them, and plunging into the
stream, drew his sword, and swore he would cut down the first who
entered the water.

His aspect was so grim and terrible that he held them in check for a
few minutes, during which he was able to reassert his authority, and
eventually he succeeded in driving a great number of them back to the
ranks.

The confederate forces halted at Langholm, but did not rest there for
the night, as it was deemed advisable by the Scottish leaders to enter
England without delay. Accordingly they marched on to Longtown, in
Cumberland.

On that very day, Brigadier Stanwix, Governor of Carlisle, with sixty
militiamen, had ridden over to Longtown, but could obtain no precise
information respecting the movements of the rebels. They had been
heard of at Hawick, but it was thought they would turn to the west,
and crossing the mountains, join the Earl of Mar. No suspicion was
entertained that they were marching into England. In fact, as we have
shown, their own plans were undecided, until they met Lord Widdrington.

General Carpenter likewise was misled by the intelligence he received,
and followed the insurgents no further than Jedburgh. Receiving no
further tidings, and being in great want of forage for his troops, he
then returned to Newcastle.

Thus owing to a variety of circumstances, the rebels gained two days
on their enemies. They took every possible precaution to prevent their
arrival at Longtown from becoming known, and were marching joyously to
Brampton, in Gilsland--a small place near Naworth Castle--before it was
even suspected they were in England.

END OF BOOK THE FIFTH.



_BOOK THE SIXTH_--THE MARCH FROM PENRITH TO PRESTON.

[Illustration: 0170]



I.--THE ROUT ON PENRITH FELL.

|Having achieved a great point, as they thought, the insurgents were now
in very good spirits.

Even the Highlanders had quite recovered from their superstitious dread
of crossing the Border, and gazed with curiosity at the country as they
marched along--thinking it very like Scotland. But they abstained from
any acts of pillage. The inhabitants regarded them with terror, and
fancied they were the first part of a large invading army.

Brampton offered them very poor quarters and a scanty supply of
provisions, and they thought of seizing Naworth Castle, which was only
a mile and a half distant, but some prudential considerations deterred
them.

James the Third having been proclaimed, Mr. Forster opened his
commission to act as General of the Confederate Forces in England, and
Lord Kenmure resigned the post in his favour.

Next day, the insurgents quitted Brampton betimes, and continued
their march along the banks of the Eden. At Kirkoswald they halted in
expectation of being joined by Mr. Dacre, a Roman Catholic gentleman,
with forty men.

While at Kirkoswald, they received information from Captain Gordon, who
had gone on to reconnoitre, that Lord Lonsdale commander of the militia
of Westmoreland, Cumberland, and Northumberland, with five or six
hundred horse militia, and accompanied by the Bishop of Carlisle, and
Sir Christopher Musgrave, high sheriff of the county, with an immense
posse-comitatus, consisting probably of eight or ten thousand men, armed
with bills and pitchforks and such implements as they could procure were
assembled on Penrith Fell, to dispute their further advance.

Little danger was to be apprehended from this vast but disorderly host,
in Captain Gordon’s opinion, as, except the militia, which formed only
a small proportion of it, the men were entirely undisciplined, and
scarcely under control.

Since it was clear from this statement that the hostile force would be
as easily dispersed as a mob, strict orders were given that no injury
should be done to the common men, except in Case of resistance.

All eagerness for the fight--if fight there was to be--the insurgents
set forward, Lord Denventwater commanding the advanced guard, and
having with him--besides his brother--Colonel Oxburgh and Captain
Gordon.

General Forster commanded the main force, and rode with Lord Widdrington
and Lord Kenmure. Neither commanders nor officers had the slightest
anxiety as to the result of the engagement, and felt as if they were
going to a race, while the Highlanders were in very good spirits,
fancying they should obtain some booty.

After passing through a woody district, they came to a common, when they
perceived the immense host described by Captain Gordon, drawn up on the
side of Penrith Fell--the horse militia being stationed in front.

As soon as the rebels came in sight, the Royalists set up a great shout,
and a charge being ordered by Lord Lonsdale, the militia dashed forward,
sword in hand, as if meaning to cut down the invaders.

But when they beheld Lord Derwentwater at the head of his troop,
galloping to meet them, they suddenly stopped, and despite Lord
Lonsdale’s remonstrances, fairly turned round, and fled.

Their cowardice saved the rebels the trouble of dispersing the multitude
behind them, for no sooner did the militia fly, than the others took
to their heels, and throwing down their weapons, hurried off in every
direction.

Ere many minutes the whole common was covered with fugitives, crying out
piteously for quarter if a Highlander pursued them and offering all they
had--which was not much--if their lives were spared. A great number of
prisoners were taken.

Amongst the foremost to save themselves were Lord Lonsdale and the
Bishop of Carlisle. Both were greatly afraid of being captured. Sir
Christopher Musgrave made a vigorous effort to check the flight of the
posse-comitatûs, but being utterly unable to do so, he rode off himself.

In less than half an hour the plain was completely cleared of all but
the confederate forces and their prisoners. Several horses belonging to
the militia were taken, a few swords and pistols, and a vast number of
pitchforks.

When the prisoners, who amounted to three or four hundred, were brought
before General Forster, he upbraided them--though in a good-humoured
manner--with their folly in opposing their friends, saying they--the
so-called rebels--were come to deliver them from a tyrannical usurper,
and restore their lawful king to the throne.

“To prove that we mean you no harm,” he said, “not one of you have been
injured--not a single man has been killed in the conflict. Had we caught
Lord Lonsdale, or the Bishop of Carlisle, who ought not to have appeared
on a field of battle, or Sir Christopher Musgrave, we might have made
each of them pay a heavy ransom; but we shall deal differently with you.
You are free. Return quietly to your homes. Take back your implements of
husbandry, and employ them to a better purpose in future.”

This speech produced a very good effect on the countrymen to whom it was
addressed. They huzzaed loudly, and shouted:

“God save King James the Third, and prosper his merciful army!”

Their pitchforks were then given back to them, and they departed,
rejoicing.

Three parties of horse were next sent off in different directions.

The first was commanded by Colonel Oxburgh, whose orders were to proceed
to Lowther Castle, which was not more than three or four miles distant,
and search for his lordship, and take him prisoner.

The second party, commanded by Captain Wogan attended by the Reverend
Mr. Patten, who was acquainted with the country, had orders to proceed
to Rose Castle, the residence of the Bishop of Carlisle, and arrest him.

The third party was commanded by Captain Gordon, who had displayed
extraordinary zeal of late, and had risen greatly in favour with General
Forster and Lord Derwentwater. Captain Gordon’s orders were to proceed
to Edenhall, and make Sir Christopher Musgrave prisoner. He was also to
bring away any arms he might find at the hall.

Charged with these orders the three officers in question immediately
rode off.

Elated by their success, the insurgents marched on to Penrith, and
entered the town with colours flying, drums beating, bagpipes playing.



II.--MADAM BELLINGHAM.

|The news of their victory had preceded them, and disposed the
inhabitants--many of whom were Jacobites--to receive them cordially.
Even by the leading men of the opposite party the greatest civility was
shown them.

In anticipation of the defeat of the rebels, a plentiful supper had been
provided at the principal inn for the Bishop of Carlisle, Lord Lonsdale,
Sir Christopher Musgrave, and their chief followers.

To this supper General Forster and the whole of the insurgent
leaders--except those absent on duty--sat down; and as circumstances
gave peculiar zest to the entertainment, they passed the merriest
evening they had done for some time.

The party sat late, and had not broken up when Colonel Oxburgh and the
two other officers returned. Some arms were brought from Lowther Castle
and Edenhall--but no prisoners. Lord Lowther, it appeared, had fled to
Yorkshire. What had become of the Bishop of Carlisle and Sir Christopher
Musgrave could not be ascertained.

General Forster was greatly disappointed, as he felt that the capture of
three such important personages--or even one of them--would have given
him great credit. However, he was fain to be content with the success he
had achieved.

Next day, the general performed an act that raised him considerably
in the estimation of the inhabitants. Having found out that some High
Church Tories belonging to his own division intended to pull down, or
burn a Presbyterian meeting-house in the town, he peremptorily forbade
them, declaring he would punish any who disobeyed his orders.

“I will never sanction religious outrages,” he said. “We must now show
the country that all sects can live tranquilly together. My maxim
is toleration. Though I differ from the Presbyterians, I will, on no
account, allow them to be molested.”

This expression, which was repeated, did him great service.

During their stay in Penrith, the insurgents were very well treated, and
made many friends. They expected to be joined by several important Roman
Catholics--Mr. Howard of Corby Castle. Mr. Warwick of Warwick Hall,
Mr. Henry Curwen of Workington, and Sir James Graham of Inchbrachy--but
learnt to their dismay that they had all been arrested by the Governor
of Carlisle, and secured in the castle. Before quitting Penrith, they
collected five hundred pounds.

At the charming town of Appleby, always noted for its loyalty, they were
very well received, and took possession of the church and castle.

General Forster immediately caused James the Third to be proclaimed, and
so much enthusiasm was manifested that it might have been thought that
the inhabitants were all devoted to the Stuarts.

Gratified by their reception, and delighted by the beauty of the town,
the insurgents passed their time very pleasantly, and were reluctant to
proceed on their march.

At Appleby, Mr. Wyburgh, captain of the train-bands, was taken prisoner,
and Lord Nairn, a relation of Sir James Graham, wished to effect an
exchange, but the Governor of Carlisle would not listen to the proposal.

Several persons, suspected of being spies, were seized and detained, and
an impracticable officer was confined in the Moot Hall till he confessed
where the excise money was lodged.

Their next march was to Kendal, where General Forster was quartered at
the house of Alderman Simpson, in Strickland Gate. It chanced that his
god-mother, Mrs. Bellingham, was staying there at the time, and hearing
this the general desired to pay his respects to her, but she refused
to see him. However, as he was going up-stairs to his room, she rushed
forth, and met him on the landing. Alarmed by the furious expression of
her countenance, Forster would have; turned back, but she commanded him
to stay.

Thinking to deprecate her wrath, the general expressed his great
pleasure at seeing her, and hoped she was quite well.

“Quite well!” she cried. “How can I be well when I’m driven almost out
of my senses by your shameful proceedings. Oh! Tom, Tom! never did I
think you would serve the Pretender!”

“I serve King James the Third, madam,” he replied. “And however
disagreeable it may be to you to hear it, I must say that I look upon
the Elector of Hanover as a usurper, and I shall do my best to drive him
from the kingdom.”

“You may try, but you’ll never succeed,” cried Mrs. Bellingham, becoming
still more exasperated. “Now, I’ll tell what you’ve lost by your folly.
I meant to leave you all my fortune; but you shan’t have a penny. I’ll
leave it all to Dorothy.”

“I’m sorry to have offended you, madam, but it can’t be helped. I
scarcely think you can have heard of our great success at Penrith Fells,
or you wouldn’t speak so disparagingly of us.”

“I’ve heard that you dispersed an army of peasants,” she rejoined,
contemptuously. “But when you face a regular army, the result will be
very different.”

“You are mistaken, madam,” he rejoined, beginning to feel angry himself,
for he saw Lord Derwentwater, Lord Widdrington, and Colonel Oxburgh
at the foot of the stairs, and felt sure they must be laughing at him.
“Before a month we shall be in London.”

“Yes,” she replied; “but you will be a prisoner. You and the rebel lords
will be safely lodged in the Tower, and if you come out, it will only be
to have your heads cut off. And you will richly deserve your fate.”

A good word may be said for the Highlanders. It was reported that the
muskets of the militia were concealed in the church, and a party of
these brave fellows went in search of them. They discovered no arms, but
they found the plate in the vestry, and left it untouched.

Next day, being Sunday, the insurgents marched early to Kirkby-Lonsdale.
Service was performed at the church in the afternoon by the Reverend Mr.
Patten, and as Lord Derwentwater and Lord Widdrington were standing
in the churchyard contemplating the beautiful view it commands of the
valley of the Lune, they were surprised by the unexpected appearance
of Lord Widdrington’s brother, who had just returned from Lancaster,
whither he had been sent to prepare the inhabitants for the approach of
the insurgent force.

Charles Widdrington’s report was that there was a strong feeling in
their favour, and that they would certainly be joined by many gentlemen
of the county. Moreover, he brought a letter to Lord Widdrington from
Mr. Charles Beswicke, of Manchester, in which the writer mentioned that
King James the Third had just been proclaimed in that town, and a troop
of fifty men raised and armed. Mr. Beswicke hoped to join the insurgent
army with some volunteers at Lancaster.

This satisfactory intelligence was immediately communicated to the other
chiefs and officers, and greatly raised their spirits.

Before leaving Kirkby-Lonsdale, they were joined by an important Roman
Catholic gentleman, Mr. Carus, of Halton Hall, and his two sons, who
were appointed officers in Lord Derwentwater’s troop.



III.--HORNBY CASTLE.

|While the rest of the force proceeded to Lancaster, shaping their
course along the lovely valley of the Lune, and keeping near the banks
of the river, Colonel Oxburgh, with a party of horse, composed entirely
of gentlemen, went to Hornby Castle for the purpose of arresting its
owner, Colonel Charteris, and taking him a prisoner to Lancaster.

Colonel Charteris, condemned to deathless infamy by Hogarth, belonged to
a Scotch family, and had rendered himself so odious to his countrymen
by his vices, that if the Highlanders had been allowed to visit Hornby
Castle, they would undoubtedly have burnt it to the ground, and have
shot its owner if they had caught him.

A profligate debauchee of the worst kind, Colonel Charteris was also one
of the meanest of men, and cunning as mean. But he was very rich, and
about two years prior to the date of our story, he had purchased Hornby
Castle, where he now dwelt, from the Earl of Cardigan, for fifteen
thousand pounds. He had made some alterations--but not improvements--in
the place, and had disfigured the old keep by rearing a watch-tower on
its summit, above which he fixed a great gilt eagle.

From its bold position on a craggy hill, the sides of which were clothed
with timber, while its base was washed by the river Wenning, Hornby
Castle, before its partial demolition in the Civil Wars, must have
presented a very striking appearance.

The ancient part of the structure was now in ruins--all that remained
of it being a few picturesque walls overgrown with ivy, and the great
square tower, to which allusion has just been made.

Adjoining these ruins, and to a certain degree combined with them, was
a large modern stone mansion, in front of which a steep lawn descended,
between avenues of timber, to the park at the foot of the hill.

No information respecting Colonel Charteris could be obtained at the
pretty little village of Hornby. The inhabitants could not, or would
not, tell whether he was at the castle. It was, therefore, in a state
of the utmost uncertainty that Colonel Oxburgh and his troop mounted the
steep ascent. The probability, indeed, seemed that a person so cautious
as Colonel Charteris would have decamped on hearing that the insurgents
were close at hand.

On approaching the castle, which he thought much too good for its
unworthy owner, Colonel Oxburgh rode up to the principal entrance and
caused the bell to be loudly rung. Hitherto, no servants had appeared
from whom inquiries could be made, and it would almost seem that the
place was deserted. The summons, however, was promptly answered by a
porter, who stated that his master had gone to Lancaster.

“Who is in the castle, then?” demanded Colonel Ox-burgh. “Take care you
don’t deceive me, fellow.”

“Only Mr. Bancroft, the steward, and two old women,” replied the porter.
“Colonel Charteris has taken all the rest of the servants with him to
Lancaster. But here comes Mr. Bancroft.”

As he spoke, a singular-looking individual made his appearance, and
descending the steps respectfully saluted the insurgent leader.

Mr. Bancroft was an elderly man, rather high-shouldered and clad in
an old-fashioned, snuff-coloured suit. He wore what was then called
a night-cap wig, and on his large and prominent nose rested a pair of
green spectacles, through which he eyed the visitor.

“Colonel Charteris is absent, sir,” he said. “He went to Lancaster
yesterday.”

“So I have just heard,” replied the other. “But you must excuse me, Mr.
Bancroft, if I decline to take your assurance on that point. My men will
search the castle.”

“As you please, sir,” replied the steward. “But depend upon it they
won’t find him. Won’t you please to alight, and come in?”

“Such is my intention,” replied the colonel, springing from his horse
and giving the bridle to the trooper nearest to him. “Let a dozen men
follow me,” he added. “The rest will take the horses to the stable--feed
them--and then come to the house.”

“It shall be done, colonel,” said the trooper.

“Excuse me, colonel,” said Bancroft. “They’ll find the stable doors
locked. My master has taken the keys with him.”

“Break open the doors,” cried Colonel Oxburgh.

“If they do, they’ll find no forage inside,” said Bancroft. “All the hay
and corn has been removed.”

“Never was there such a rascal?” cried Colonel Oxburgh, furiously.
“Well, do the best you can,” he added, to his followers. “Put up the
horses, and then come to the house.”

“To prevent disappointment,” said Bancroft, with a malicious grin, “I
had better mention beforehand that they will find no provisions.”

“No provisions!” exclaimed the colonel, while the troopers who were
within hearing looked aghast:

“The larder’s empty, sir, I’m sorry to say,” pursued the steward; “and
what’s worse, there’s not a bottle of wine in the cellar.”

Murmurs and threats arose from the men.

“If your master acts thus, he must take the consequences,” observed
Colonel Oxburgh. “He deserves the bad character he has acquired.”

The steward did not like the tone in which the remark was made, and
looked as if he would be glad to escape, but this being impossible, he
asked Colonel Oxburgh into the house.

As he entered the hall with his men, Colonel Oxburgh Stopped him, and
said:

“A word with you, Mr. Bancroft. You say there are no provisions in the
house--no food for the horses in the stables.”

“I do, colonel,” replied the other.

“I won’t dispute the truth of your statement, but I have some orders to
give you, which you will be pleased to execute. While I search the house
see that a plentiful repast is set out for me and my followers in the
diningroom----”

“I cannot accomplish impossibilities, colonel,” interrupted the steward.

“I require good wine for myself and my men. No discussion. It must be
done. Two of my party will attend upon you, and shoot you through the
head if you attempt to escape. The rest will remain with me.”

Leaving the steward quite confounded by what he had heard, in charge
of a couple of troopers, Colonel Oxburgh made a thorough search of
the house, peering into every room, but he did not find the person he
sought, and began to think Colonel Charteris had really fled.

On repairing to the dining-room he was agreeably surprised to find a
cold collation laid out on a long table.

“Aha! Mr. Bancroft,” he exclaimed, “you have performed wonders, I see.
Is this the work of magic?”

“It turned out on examination that the larder was better furnished than
I imagined, colonel,” said the steward.

“I thought as much,” rejoined Colonel Oxburgh. “After all, we shall not
fare badly.”

“Nor will the horses, colonel,” observed one of the gentlemen troopers
coming up to him. “We have found plenty of fodder in the stable.”

The colonel laughed heartily.

“What do you say to this, sir?” he remarked to the steward.

“Simply that I obeyed my master’s orders,” he rejoined.

“Your master is a miserable niggard,” said the colonel, signing to his
followers to sit down, and taking the chair at the head of the table.

They were waited on by a couple of menservants, who had been discovered
in the butler’s pantry, and were supplied with abundance of claret.

At the conclusion of the repast King James’s health was drunk by the
whole party with loud cheers. Not only was the steward compelled to join
in the toast, but to drink “Success to the insurgent army.”

When the moment of departure arrived, and the steward thought he was
about to get rid of his unwelcome visitors, Colonel Oxburgh said to him:

“We shan’t part company at present, Mr. Bancroft. I shall be compelled
to take you with me to Lancaster.”

“As a prisoner, colonel?”

“As a prisoner, sir!”

“But what have I done? What crime have I committed?”

“That General Forster will judge. I have his orders to arrest you.”

“Your orders, if I mistake not, are to arrest Colonel Charteris.”

“Exactly. But in arresting you I don’t think I shall be far wrong.”

“I can assure you, sir----”

“Nay, ‘tis vain to deny it. From the first I suspected you were Colonel
Charteris, and my suspicions have since become confirmed. ‘Twill be best
to accompany me quietly. Resistance will be useless?”

“Very well,” rejoined the other. “Since you have seen through my
disguise, I won’t attempt to maintain it longer. I _am_ Colonel
Charteris. Allow me to put up a few things, and I will go with you.
Don’t be alarmed. I give you my word of honour I will return.”

“Your word of honour!” exclaimed Colonel Oxburgh, contemptuously. “I
place little reliance upon it. A guard must accompany you while you make
your preparations.”

“You wrong me by this distrust, colonel,” said Charteris, as he quitted
the room, closely followed by a couple of troopers.

Ascending the great staircase, he proceeded deliberately along a
corridor, until he came to a particular bed-chamber, where he stopped,
saying to the guard, as he went in, “I won’t detain you long.”

The troopers remained at the door. But as he did not come forth within
a reasonable time, they entered the room, and to their astonishment and
dismay found it empty.

They searched about--in the closets, behind the curtains, under the bed,
and in every place, likely and unlikely, but failed to find him--nor
could they comprehend how he had got off, since there appeared to be no
other exit but the door.

On going downstairs, they found Colonel Oxburgh impatiently awaiting
them in the hall. The entrance door was standing wide open, and showed
the troop drawn up outside, and ready for instant departure. The colonel
was greatly exasperated when he learnt what had happened.

“I ought to have known better,” he mentally ejaculated, “than to trust a
man without a spark of honour. However, if he falls into my hands again,
he shall not escape so easily.”

Though despairing of success, Colonel Oxburgh would not leave without
making an effort to re-capture the fugitive.

On careful examination of the bed-chamber in question, he discovered a
secret door, connected with a passage leading to the ruins of the old
castle, where no doubt the fugitive had found a safe hiding-place. As
it was evident further search would be useless, Colonel Oxburgh departed
with his men.

Little did he think as he rode down the hill, that Colonel Charteris
was watching him from the summit of the keep, and laughing at the clever
manner in which he had outwitted his visitor.



IV.--SIR HENRY HOGHTON AND THE QUAKER.

|Aware that the rebels were marching towards Lancaster, the Whig
inhabitants of the town endeavoured to make some defensive preparations,
and were materially aided in their efforts by Sir Henry Hoghton, of
Hoghton Tower, member of Parliament for Preston, and Colonel of the
Lancashire Militia.

Having ascertained that a ship called the _Robert_, of five hundred tons
burthen, belonging to Mr. Lawson, a wealthy Quaker of Lancaster, was
lying at Sunderland--a small sea-port situated at the estuary of the
Lune--Sir Henry went to Mr. Lawson to endeavour to negotiate with him
for the use of the guns.

“When I tell you, Mr Lawson,” he said, “that those Cannon of yours will
enable us to keep the rebels out of the town, I am sure you will let us
have them.”

“Thou shalt have them on one condition, friend,” replied the Quaker.
“And on one condition only.”

“Name it,” cried Sir Henry eagerly.

“Thou shalt give me a bond for ten thousand pounds to insure my ship,
the _Robert_, against any damage she may sustain from the rebels, when
they learn I have parted with the cannon to be used against them.”

“Zounds! Mr. Lawson,” exclaimed Sir Henry, “excuse my swearing--but you
are enough to provoke a saint--how the deuce can you expect me to agree
to such absurd conditions? I refuse them. Moreover, I tell you as
a magistrate, that the cargo on board the _Robert_ shall at once be
seized, unless you consent to surrender the cannon. Now, Sir, what have
you to say to that?”

After a moment’s reflection, the Quaker replied:

“I have simply to say, friend, that I agree.”

“I am glad to hear it,” observed Sir Henry. “You will deserve the thanks
of your fellow-townsmen.”

“But recollect, friend,” said the Quaker, “that the cannon will be of
no use to thee, unless thou hast sufficient men to cover the town. Thou
hast six hundred militiamen at Preston. Thou must bring them forthwith
to Lancaster. There is also, unless I am misinformed, a regiment of
dragoons at Preston, commanded by Colonel Stanhope. They would be useful
here.”

“Colonel Stanhope cannot move his dragoons without an order from General
Wills,” said Sir Henry. “And as to the militia, I can’t bring them here
because I should deprive Preston of its main defence.”

“That is unfortunate,” observed the Quaker. “The best fighting men in
Lancaster are Jacobites, and likely to help the rebels. I would not
trust them to serve the cannon.”

“I begin to think you are a Jacobite yourself, Mr. Lawson,” observed
Sir Henry. “Since you raise all these difficulties you must order the
_Robert_ to leave Sunderland, and move to some other port.”

“I can’t do it, friend,” observed the Quaker. “The rebels would consider
the step as an injustice to themselves, and assuredly resent it.”

“This truckling to the rebels proves you to be a Jacobite,” said Sir
Henry, angrily; “but I will consult my brother magistrates, Mr. Rigby
and Colonel Charteris, and if they are of my opinion, we will issue a
warrant and seize the arms.”

“Do as it seems good to thee, in regard to the cannon, friend,” rejoined
the Quaker. “But counsel thy brother magistrates not to blow up the
bridge, as I hear is their intention. They will not thereby hinder the
entrance of the rebels, since the river is passable at low water both
for horse and foot, and will do great damage to the town.”

“There you are right,” said Sir Henry. “The bridge shall not be
destroyed. Have you any further complaints to make?”

“Yea, verily,” replied the Quaker. “I have to complain that a barrel
of gunpowder hath been improperly and imprudently wasted by him thou
callest Colonel Charteris.”

“How so?” demanded Sir Henry.

“Because he hath caused Samuel Satterthwaite to cast it into the
town-well.”

“Perhaps he thought Sam Satterthwaite might sell it to the rebels.”

“Wherefore not use it against them himself? I am a man of peace, and
Colonel Charteris is a man of war. Yet methinks, the order to spoil
the powder would have come more aptly from me, than from him. Most
assuredly, however, I would have given no such direction.”

“I can easily believe it, Mr. Lawson,” replied Sir Henry. “You know the
value of gunpowder, having an armed vessel of your own.”

“I know its utility at this moment,” rejoined the Quaker, “when an
insurrection has to be quelled.”

“Or aided,” said Sir Henry, significantly. “Well, I won’t argue with
you further, Mr. Lawson. You shall have due notice when the arms are
seized.”

“I am not much afraid of that,” muttered the Quaker, as Sir Henry took
his departure.



V.--HOW THE PRISONERS IN LANCASTER CASTLE WERE RELEASED.

|Far from presenting a stern and threatening aspect to the rebels, the
old town of Lancaster seemed to smile upon them as they approached it.

The sun shone brightly on the castle hill, giving a cheerful air to
the ancient fortress that crowned it, and no cannon were planted at its
walls. No militia, no dragoons, were drawn to dispute the passage of
the bridge. On the contrary, a great number of ladies and gentlemen were
collected there, mingled with the townsfolk--most of whom were in their
holiday attire--to give them welcome.

Headed by the Earl of Derwentwater, mounted on his dapple-grey steed
which had borne him well throughout the whole of the long march, the
insurgents came joyously on, and were received with shouts by the
concourse assembled at the foot of the bridge--the ladies waving their
kerchiefs enthusiastically.

The good looks and chivalrous appearance of the earl were well
calculated to impress the female portion of the beholders, who
manifested their admiration in the way we have stated.

Riding with his sword unsheathed, Lord Derwentwater occasionally bowed
in acknowledgement of the attention paid him. Close behind him rode his
brother, Charles Radclyffe, and Captain Wogan, both of whom were thought
handsome men, but nothing compared with the earl, who captivated all the
ladies of Lancaster.

Entirely composed of gentlemen of good family, almost all of them young,
very well dressed, and extremely well mounted, and of course not having
at all the air of common soldiers, the Earl of Derwentwater’s regiment
caused great excitement.

Flattered by their reception, these young gentlemen bowed to the ladies,
and in some instances persuaded themselves that their salutations were
returned. Perhaps it might have been so, since it is certain the ladies
were not displeased.

General Forster was not so much admired, and the ladies declared he
was not fit to have the command of such an army; but they praised Lord
Widdrington’s regiment, and wondered how so many fine young men could
have been got together. The Scottish nobles and the Lowland corps
delighted them, but they were quite astounded by the Highlanders, with
whose picturesque garb they were not familiar.

They could not help contrasting these fierce-looking savages, as they
styled them, with the handsome Englishmen, and Brigadier Mackintosh,
with his tall, stalwart figure and grim countenance filled them with
terror.

After crossing the bridge without any other interruption, except
the very agreeable one described, the insurgent army marched to the
market-place, followed by an immense concourse. Here the Highlanders
formed themselves in a body round the cross, and the whole of the
cavalry, having their swords bared, drew up around them. General Forster
with the English and Scottish nobles were stationed in the centre of the
throng.

King James the Third was then proclaimed amid the hearty cheers of
the multitude. This done, the troops moved away, and were billeted and
quartered in every part of the town. While the proclamation was being
made, Captain Gordon had remarked a person at the open window of a
stationer’s shop, kept by a certain Christopher Hopkins, evidently
engaged in counting the numbers of the insurgents, and entering the
particulars with great care in a small memorandum book. Suspecting that
the man’s design was to afford information to the Government, Captain
Gordon went to the shop as soon as the crowd began to disperse, and
then found that the individual he had seen preparing the report was
Christopher Hopkins himself. Interrogated by Captain Gordon, Hopkins
admitted that he had taken down the numbers of the insurgent army, and,
moreover, had given the report to his friend Ralph Fairbrother, who was
about to take it to General Carpenter at Newcastle.

As Hopkins refused to give any further information, Captain Gordon
ordered his immediate arrest, and directed that he should be kept in
strict custody till Ralph Fairbrother was found. Fairbrother’s residence
was discovered, but he had already set out on his errand. A reward of
thirty pounds was offered for his capture, but proved ineffectual.

Amongst those who witnessed the entrance of the insurgent army into the
town, were the prisoners in the castle, who had contrived to get up on
the leads of the building, and saluted their deliverers, as they styled
them, with loud cheers.

Several of these unlucky individuals had been confined for political
offences, and as most of them were Jacobites, they confidently
calculated upon liberation.

Amongst them was the celebrated Tom Syddall, a blacksmith of Manchester,
who had headed the mob at the time of the Sacheverel riots, and assisted
in pulling down the Presbyterian meeting-houses in that town. For these
offences the “Mob Captain,” as he was styled, was placed in the pillory,
and imprisoned in Lancaster Castle.

Tom Syddall, we may mention, had a son quite as ardent a Jacobite as
himself, whose exploits during the rebellion of 1745 have been recounted
in another work.

A consultation was held by General Forster with Lord Derwentwater and
the other leaders as to the propriety of releasing the debtors as well
as the Crown prisoners in the castle, when it was decided that the
former only should be set free.

Accordingly, Colonel Oxburgh, who by this time had returned from
his unsuccessful visit to Hornby Castle, was directed to order their
immediate discharge, and for this purpose went up to the castle, without
a guard, and only accompanied by Mr. Patten, the chaplain of the force.

On entering by the portal of the Gateway Tower, above which was an
effigy of John of Gaunt, they were respectfully received by an officer,
to whom Colonel Oxburgh gave General Forster’s order for the liberation
of the Crown prisoners, and while the colonel and the chaplain walked on
into the spacious castle-yard, the order was taken to the governor.

Ere many minutes had elapsed, loud shouts, that made the old towers
ring, announced that the order had been complied with, and soon
afterwards some thirty individuals, most of them very shabbily attired,
rushed tumultuously into the court, and, gathering round Colonel
Oxburgh, shouted “Long live King James the Third!”

Foremost among them was a short, strongly built man, with a plain,
honest countenance, marked by a bold, determined expression, who looked
like what he had been--a blacksmith.

“Are you not Tom Syddall?” inquired Colonel Oxburgh.

The man replied in the affirmative, whereupon the colonel shook hands
with him, as did the chaplain, and both expressed their satisfaction at
being instrumental in setting him and his fellow-prisoners at liberty.

“You have all been imprisoned for your attachment to your rightful
sovereign,” said Colonel Oxburgh, “and it is our duty to liberate you.
As to you, Syddall,” he added, “I know you to be a brave fellow, and I
expect you will join us.”

“Such is my design, colonel,” he replied. “And what is more, I can bring
all these my friends with me. Have I said too much?” he added, appealing
to them.

“No! no!” they responded unanimously. “We will all join.”

“I am right glad to hear it,” said the colonel. “Your friends will form
a small troop, Syddall, and I make no doubt General Forster will give
you the command of it.”

All being now arranged, Colonel Oxburgh and the chaplain quitted
the castle, and proceeded to the general’s quarters, followed by the
newly-liberated prisoners. General Forster was very much pleased by
this accession of force, and confirmed Colonel Oxburgh’s promise by
appointing Syddall captain of the little troop.

That night, Brigadier Mackintosh sent a party of Highlanders to search
for arms at every house in the town. They took with them Mr. Parkinson,
the mayor, a staunch supporter of the Government, and compelled him to
assist in the search. Their orders were to plunder the houses of all
such persons as refused compliance with their commands.

While the search for arms was still going on, Captain Wogan came to
Forster’s quarters, and said:

“General, I have just received information of six pieces of cannon on
board the ship _Robert_, now lying at Sunderland, five miles from this
town, and propose, with your sanction, to take a detachment with me
to-morrow morning and seize them.”

“Do so, by all means,” said Forster.

“Sir Henry Hoghton intended to seize these ship guns, and bring them
here for the defence of the town,” continued Captain Wogan, “and for
that purpose had taken off the wheels of some of his carriages. But his
design being frustrated by our approach, I have got possession of the
carriage-wheels, and mean to use them as he intended for the cannon.”

“Capital!” exclaimed Forster, laughing heartily.

“But something must be done to remunerate Mr. Lawson, the owner of the
ship, general,” said Wogan.

“Let him make his claim, and we will give him our note for the amount to
be made payable when our master’s concerns are settled,” said Forster.

Taking a strong detachment with him, Captain Wogan went, next morning,
to Sunderland, where he found the _Robert_, and demanded the cannon in
the name of King James.

Mr. Lawson was on board at the time, and at once surrendered the guns,
receiving a note of hand for six hundred pounds, as suggested by General
Forster, with which he appeared perfectly satisfied.

“But how wilt thou get the guns to Lancaster, friend?” he inquired.

“Very easily,” replied Captain Wogan. “I have brought with me the wheels
of Sir Henry Hoghton’s three carriages.”

“Thou hast done well,” observed the Quaker, laughing. “That insolent
baronet has been rightly served.”

“I begin to think you have a friendly feeling towards our party, Mr.
Lawson,” observed Captain Wogan.

“I am of no party, friend,” replied the cautious Quaker. “But I will
tell thee one thing--thou hast got the cannon far cheaper than I would
have sold them to Sir Henry Hoghton.”



VI.--LANCASHIRE WITCHES.


|Never had Lancaster been so gay as during its occupation by the rebels.

Instead of showing themselves hostile, as had been apprehended, the
majority of the inhabitants proved exceedingly friendly.

At many houses where the young insurgents were quartered, they were
treated like guests. Tea parties were given to which they were invited,
and they were thus enabled to make the acquaintance of the female
members of the family. As these young troopers could not be
distinguished either in manner or attire from their officers, they
were frequently questioned as to their actual military rank, and gave
something like the following explanation.

“In our regiment there are no common men. We serve as gentlemen, and are
treated like gentlemen by our officers. But though we consider ourselves
quite equal to our leaders, we unhesitatingly obey them. By us the word
of command is never disputed. Though most of us have grooms, each of us
attends to his own horse, and you see how well the horses look, in spite
of our long march. We are never out of spirits. We take the rough and
the smooth, as they come. Hitherto, we have had plenty of rough work,
and very little enjoyment. The ‘smooth’ has come at last. The kindness
and courtesy of the gentlemen of Lancaster, and the attentions shown us
by the ladies, make ample amends for previous hardships.”

Such was the account of themselves given by the handsome young troopers,
and listened to with the greatest interest by the ladies, who thought
that a regiment composed entirely of gentlemen must be victorious either
in love or war.

It happened, singularly enough, at the time of the Jacobite expedition,
that Lancaster and Preston abounded in pretty girls. Always famed for
the beauty and fascinations of the fair sex--who have been designated
the “Lancashire witches”--the whole county was remarkably rich in
feminine attraction at that particular juncture.

Of the Preston belles we shall speak hereafter. F or the present, we
must confine ourselves to the beauties of Lancaster.

If we said there were a hundred really handsome young women in Lancaster
at the time of which we speak, we should be under the mark. We believe
there were double the number, and they were all as gay and good-humoured
as they were beautiful.

Since we cannot describe them all, we shall select three of the most
attractive--namely, Dryope Dutton, Nicola Glasson, and Aurelia Heysham.

Had they not been nearly of an age, these three lovely girls might
have been taken for sisters, so much were they alike. Each was between
nineteen and twenty--each had delicately-formed features, blonde
tresses, and blue eyes, capable of the tenderest expression--and each
was tall and graceful. All three knew how to set off their charms to
advantage by dress.

Dryope Dutton, however, was considered the prettiest girl in Lancaster,
and had the greatest number of admirers, all of whom were sent about
their business on the arrival of the rebel army, their places being
immediately filled by gallant young insurgents. None of her new
suitors were discouraged by Dryope, but she appeared to have a decided
preference for Captain Shaftoe.

Following Dryope’s example, Nicola and Aurelia dismissed their lovers,
and laid themselves out to captivate the new-comers, in which design
they were eminently successful.

The rest of the pretty girls did the same thing. None of them would now
be seen without a Jacobite admirer.

During their stay at Lancaster nothing was thought of but flirting by
the amorous youths, who were completely enthralled by their lady-loves,
and had these syrens desired to turn them from their cause, we fear they
might have succeeded.

Luckily, all the girls professed themselves ardent Jacobites, and if
they fancied their lovers were lukewarm, strenuously urged them to go
on.

As we have intimated, the town now presented a very lively appearance.
Not only was the terrace near the castle thronged with handsome young
troopers and charming girls; but when the promenade was over, the
company wandered about the streets, visiting the market-place, the
town-hall, the custom-house, the quays and the bridge, and strolling on
the banks of the Lune.

On Sunday, Saint Mary’s Church was crowded by the same young ladies, who
expressed a great desire to hear the Reverend Mr. Paul, who had recently
joined the expedition, read prayers, and Mr. Patten preach; but it
may be doubted whether they were not still more anxious to meet their
admirers.

Be this as it may, when the service was over, the ladies congregated in
the churchyard, and each fair girl was escorted home by the trooper she
preferred.

Whether all this flirting was approved of by the mammas of the young
ladies in question we will not pretend to say. No effort was made to
check it. Neither did the officers of the regiments to which the young
men belonged interfere--well knowing interference would be useless--so
it went on to the last.

At length, the day of parting came, and a very sad day it was both for
the enamoured young troopers and their lady-loves.

How many tears were shed! how many tender adieux taken! how many
protestations made of undying affection!

“We shall never see you again!” cried the heartbroken girls. “Military
men are always inconstant. You will forget us as soon as you arrive at
Preston.”

The young troopers vowed they were an exception to the rule.

“Have no doubts as to our constancy!” they cried. “We will always remain
faithful. Preston may be full of pretty girls--as they say it is--but
they will have no attraction for us.”

“Don’t be surprised if we come to look after you,” said Dryope, to
Captain Shaftoe; “and if we find you false and forsworn----”

“How can you suppose I could be false to you, sweetest Dryope?” said
Shaftoe, stopping her mouth with a kiss. “Think it not. But I fear you
won’t come to Preston.”

“Yes, I will--if I can--that I promise,” she rejoined.

“Then I will only bid you adieu for a short time,” he said, kissing her
once more as he sprang to the saddle.

Many more partings, equally tender, took place. Many a bright eye was
dimmed, as the regiments to which the handsome troopers belonged quitted
Lancaster, and took the road to Preston.

Full of sadness were the young men as they looked back at the fair
creatures they were leaving; and had they been told at the moment that
they would soon forget them they would have resented the imputation.

We shall see how they behaved at Preston.

In quitting Lancaster, where he was so well received, and where he was
constantly receiving slight accessions to his force, General Forster
committed a grave error.

At Lancaster he had a strong castle which might have been garrisoned and
provisioned, and could certainly have been held till assistance arrived
from Scotland; while not far from the town was a sea-port whence
succours could be obtained from France.

These advantages were pointed out to him by Lord Derwentwater, but he
replied that his object in marching to Preston was to secure Warrington
Bridge before the enemy could destroy it.

The possession of this bridge, he thought, would give him both
Manchester and Liverpool, and these important towns gained, the whole
surrounding country would flock to his standard.

In vain Lord Derwentwater showed him the difficulties he would have
to encounter, and explained that the inhabitants of Liverpool were
decidedly adverse to the Jacobite cause.

A totally different view was taken by Lord Widdrington, who assured the
general he might depend upon receiving the support of the High Church
Tories of Manchester, and Mr. Charles Beswicke, who had just arrived
from that town, confirmed the idea.

General Forster, therefore, resolved to go on, despite Lord
Derwentwater’s opposition.

Several important additions, as we have just stated, had been made to
the rebel force. Amongst these were five gentlemen belonging to some of
the oldest and most distinguished families in the county, whose adhesion
could not fail to be serviceable to the cause. They were Albert Hodgson
of Leighton Hall--John Dalton of Thurnham Hall--Edward Tyldesley of the
Lodge--Henry Butler of Rawcliffe, and Thomas Walton of Walton Hall. They
all brought retainers with them, and each was made a captain. Charles
Beswicke, previously mentioned, who likewise joined at Lancaster, was
son of the Reverend Charles Beswicke, rector of Radcliffe.

A dull and gloomy morning harmonised with the feelings of the insurgents
as they quitted Lancaster, but as they advanced on their march the day
improved, and by the time they reached Garstang it had become quite
fine.

Here the infantry proposed to halt for the night. They brought with them
the six pieces of cannon seized on board the _Robert_, and likewise some
casks of brandy taken from the custom-house.

At Garstang, Brigadier Mackintosh set free Christopher Hopkins, who had
been hitherto detained a prisoner, telling him if he again fell into his
hands, he would shoot him.

Long before the cavalry reached Preston they came in sight of the town,
delightfully situated on a ridge overlooking the flat district they were
traversing, and the aspect of the town was so cheerful, that the spirits
of the young troopers began to revive.

They had heard much of the beauty of the ladies, and curiosity to behold
them was suddenly awakened in their breasts.

Could they compare with the lovely girls they had left behind? That was
a question which would very soon be answered.

The young troopers now became impatient to get to Preston, and wondered
whether the ladies would come forth to meet them as had been the case at
Lancaster.

In this respect they were disappointed.

There were no ladies at the foot of the hill--none on Friargate
brow--but in the market-place an agreeable surprise awaited them.

END OF BOOK THE SIXTH.



_BOOK THE SEVENTH_--T HE ATTACK.



I.--PROUD PRESTON.

|Proud Preston--or Priests’ Town, as it was originally called from
the number of its religious houses--merited the epithet applied to it,
albeit somewhat derisively.

Proud were its inhabitants--proud of their town--of its fine situation,
its beauty, its salubrity--proud of their wives and daughters, whom they
deemed, and not erroneously, the handsomest women in the kingdom.

As a place of fashionable resort, where the best society could be found,
Preston, at the period of our story, ranked higher than any other town
in the North of England. A great number of gentry resided there--many of
them belonging to the oldest Catholic families of the county, and these
persons gave an aristocratic character to the place.

But the Preston gentry were not as wealthy as they were proud. High
Churchmen as well as Roman Catholics abounded in the town, and the only
thing low about the parish church was the steeple. Hence the old rhyme:=

````Proud Preston, poor people,

````High church, and low steeple!=

Delightfully situated on the summit of a ridge, rising gradually from
the Ribble, which sweeps round it on the south, and commanding extensive
and beautiful views in every direction, Preston, from its salubrious
climate, and contiguity to the sea, enjoyed the reputation of being one
of the most agreeable and healthy towns in England.

In the early part of the eighteenth century Preston was but a small
place, and could boast little regularity of construction, but it had a
remarkably clean and cheerful aspect.

Attached to many of the houses were good gardens, and these being
laid out on the slopes of the eminence on which the town was reared,
contributed materially to its beauty.

The best houses were in Church-street and Fishergate, running from east
to west on the south side of the hill. A few of the habitations were
old, but the greater part were modern. Amongst the latter were two large
mansions, standing nearly opposite each other in Church-street, and
belonging respectively to Sir Henry Hoghton and Mr. Eyre. Both these
mansions possessed large gardens and good stables, and are specially
referred to because we shall have to speak of them hereafter.

But there was also some good old houses in Friargate, which led from the
Lancaster road on the north side of the hill to the market-place.

In the market-place, which formed a large square, with an obelisk in the
midst instead of a cross, there were several good old houses; and here,
also, was the town-hall, an extremely picturesque old edifice, four
stories high, and each story projecting above the other, painted black
and white, and having great gables and large windows.

At the corner of one of the streets communicating with the market-place
stood the Mitre, the principal hostel of the town, and noted for its
good cheer and good wines. Not far off was the White Bull, another good
inn, much frequented by the townsfolk.

The parish church, dedicated in the first instance to Saint Wilfrid, but
more recently to Saint John, stood on the south side of Church-street. A
fine old structure, it had undergone repairs, not altogether judicious,
and was disfigured by a low tower. A large churchyard separated it from
the street.

At this time the Reverend Samuel Peploe, a staunch supporter of the
reigning family, and greatly opposed to the Jacobites, was vicar of
Preston.

On Fishergate brow stood a small Roman Catholic chapel, dedicated to
Saint Mary.

At the Grey Friars was the old prison; but a house of correction had
been recently erected in the fields on the west side of the town--rather
a large building for so small a place.

From the eastern extremity of ‘Church-street, a road leading to Wigan
descended the hill, and after passing through some pleasant fields
bordered by high hedges, crossed the old bridge over the Ribble near
Walton-le-Dale.

Such was Preston when garrisoned by the insurgent forces.

With the exception of the vicar, to whom we have just alluded, all their
enemies had disappeared.

Colonel Stanhope had gone with his regiment of dragoons to join General
Wills at Warrington; and Sir Henry Hoghton had abandoned his large
mansion, and taken the Militia to Wigan.

There was nothing, therefore, to prevent the inhabitants from giving
them a hearty welcome.

But as the municipal authorities, from prudential reasons, declined to
act, the office of receiving them devolved on private individuals.

As General Forster and the other leaders rode into the market-place,
they were met by a large party of gentlemen, who welcomed them to the
town, and professed their desire to show them every hospitality. General
Forster, the noble lords, and all the officers were invited to dine that
day at the town-hall, and it was likewise intimated to the general that
a grand dinner, to be followed by a ball, would be given at the same
place on the following day, by which time it was expected the infantry
and Highlanders would have arrived.

In regard to quarters, Mr. Eyre’s large house in Church-street was
assigned to General Forster and Lord Widdrington, and Sir Henry
Hoghton’s mansion was offered to Lord Derwentwater. Good quarters, it
appeared, had likewise been provided for all the officers.

Greatly pleased by their reception, the rebel leaders repaired to their
quarters, with which they were well satisfied. In the mansion assigned
to them, General Forster and Lord Widdrington found everything they
could desire. Nor was Sir Henry Hoghton’s house at all inferior to the
other. Indeed it presented a far handsomer appearance from the
street, as it occupied a more elevated position. Nor did the internal
accommodation belie the exterior. The house possessed a spacious
entrance hall, and several commodious and well furnished rooms on the
ground floor. Attached to it were excellent stables, and at the back
there was a large garden.

Sir Henry had taken his grooms and coachman with him but part of the
establishment was left behind.

After settling themselves comfortably in their new quarters, the rebel
leaders proceeded to the town-hall, where a sumptuous dinner awaited
them, and so well pleased was General Forster with the entertainment,
with the attentions paid him, and with his quarters, that he resolved to
stay as long as he could at Preston.

At the very time when the rebels were taking possession of the town,
the vicar, of whose attachment to the House of Brunswick we have spoken,
happened to be engaged on his duties in the church, and he seized the
opportunity of reading prayers for King George and the royal family. For
this display of zeal and courage, he was made Warden of Manchester, and
subsequently Bishop of Chester.

No molestation or interruption were offered by the rebels, but when
the Reverend Mr. Paul, the new chaplain of the regiment, heard of the
circumstance, he begged General Forster to order the troops to attend
prayers at the church forthwith.

Within half an hour after Mr. Peploe had quitted it, the church was
entirely filled by the rebel soldiers. Captain Wogan, Captain Shaftoe,
and most of the officers were present.

While the bell was ringing to summon this second congregation, Mr. Paul
took the prayer-book, just used by the vicar, and erased the name of
King George, substituting for it the name of King James. And in the
prayer for the royal family, he scratched out the name of the
Princess Sophia, and introduced that of Queen Mary of Modena.

Habited in a blue coat, wearing a long wig, and having a sword by his
side, this stout church militant proceeded to the reading-desk, and in
tones quite as fervent as those of the vicar prayed for the Pretender
and his mother. Had James the Third come to the throne, no doubt Mr.
Paul would have been rewarded with a bishopric.

Most of the young gentlemen troopers found capital quarters in the
Fishergate and Friargate, and as a great number of tea-parties were
given that evening, to which they were bidden, they had an opportunity
of comparing the belles of Preston with those of Lancaster.

Till then they had believed it impossible that lovelier girls could
be found than those they had just quitted. Now they confessed their
mistake.

That morning the inconstant youths tore themselves away distractedly
from their Lancaster loves, but at night an entire change had taken
place in their sentiments, and they retired to rest deeply enamoured of
the Preston girls.



II.--HOW KING JAMES WAS PROCLAIMED FOR THE LAST TIME.

|Next morning, the town, never dull, presented a gayer appearance than
usual.

Fortunately, the weather was propitious, and enabled the ladies to come
forth and see the troops paraded.

After this pretty sight, they proceeded to the Lancaster road to witness
the entrance of the Highlanders, whom they were very curious to see.

They laughed a great deal at the strange dresses of the men, and stopped
their ears to shut out the shrill sound of the bagpipes; but, on the
whole, they were pleased.

As was the case wherever he went, Brigadier Mackintosh produced a
strong effect upon the beholders. His tall martial figure rivetted their
regards. On this occasion, the rigid muscles of the grim old warrior’s
countenance were somewhat relaxed, and he even attempted to smile.

Perhaps, he was gratified by the undisguised admiration of the Preston
beauties.

However, the fair spectators were best pleased by a party of young
recruits who followed the Highlanders.

Raw soldiers they might be, but they were very pretty fellows, and had
plenty of spirit. Number, three dozen--not including captain. Height,
rather below the average-features delicate and feminine--figures slight,
but remarkably well formed.

Never did scarlet coats, laced cocked-hats, flaxen wigs, and all the
rest of their accoutrements find more graceful wearers. Red and white
cockades showed they were English--the Scots being distinguished by
cockades of blue and white.

All carried muskets except the captain who alone had a drawn sword
in his hand. Perhaps he had been chosen on account of his good looks.
Certainly he was the handsomest, as well as the tallest of the party.

The whole troop presented a very animated appearance, and none of
them looked fatigued by the march. Highly diverted by the notice they
excited, they ogled the ladies very freely, and occasionally paid them a
passing compliment.

Scarcely knowing what to think of these singular recruits, a crowd of
young damsels followed them, laughing and jesting with them as they
marched along.

On arriving at the market-place, where the troops were assembling to
proclaim King James, the recruits created quite a sensation--especially
among certain young gentlemen in Lord Derwent water’s regiment, who
stared at them in astonishment, and could scarcely believe their
eyes. Their perplexity afforded the recruits great amusement, but they
pretended not to recognise them, and did not return their signs and
gestures.

Equally astonished was Captain Shaftoe when he beheld the troop; but
quickly recovering himself, he rode up to General Forster and obtained
his permission to place the recruits near the cross.

For this service he received the thanks of the handsome young captain,
but he did not tarry to talk to him then, or ask for any explanation,
for the Highlanders were gathering around.

Nothing could be better than the position thus gained by the recruits,
for they were close to General Forster and the English and Scottish
nobles, and could see everything. What is more, they themselves could be
seen. In fact, they were conspicuous objects in the picture, and really
contributed to its effect. Stationed elsewhere, they would have been
lost, for the place was entirely filled with the military and the
townsfolk.

When the proclamation was made such a shout arose as had never been
heard in that place before. Kerchiefs were waved from the windows of the
town-hall, which were garnished with fair dames, and a host of gentlemen
ranged in front of the building, made their voices heard above the
general din. The enthusiasm pervaded all classes, and a more exciting
scene cannot be imagined.

This was the last time that such shouts were heard in England. Never
again was King James proclaimed by the insurgent forces.



III.--THE COUNTESS AND DOROTHY ARRIVE AT PRESTON.

|General Forster’s utter incapacity as a leader had now become manifest
to all. He drank as hard during the march, as he had been accustomed to
do at Bamborough, and after these potations his head could not be very
clear in the morning. Had it not been for Colonel Oxburgh, who acted for
him, many ruinous mistakes must have occurred. Remonstrances, however,
were useless. To argue with him only made him more determinately
obstinate. Right or wrong, he would have his own way. The only person he
would listen to was Lord Widdrington, who knew how to humour him.

This state of things at head-quarters filled Lord Derwentwater with the
gravest apprehension, for he foresaw that the general’s blundering and
obstinacy must expose them to a chance of defeat, whenever an engagement
with the enemy should occur.

But Forster’s indifference to the danger of his position was quite as
remarkable as his stupidity. Although informed on the day after his
arrival at Preston that General Wills was marching to Wigan with several
regiments of dragoons, and some regiments of foot, he refused to believe
the intelligence, and took no pains to verify it.

Neither did he seem willing to credit the report that General Carpenter
was marching against him from Newcastle. So delighted was he with
Preston, with his quarters, with the hospitality of the inhabitants, and
the general attractions of the place, that he was in no hurry to leave.
Like the gentlemen troopers he had submitted to feminine fascination,
and short as had been his stay, Mrs. Scarisbrick, a charming young
widow, already held him in thrall.

It seemed, indeed, to be the design of the Preston belles to captivate
all the insurgent leaders, and many a tender glance was thrown at Lord
Derwentwater by some of the fairest ladies of the place. But he was
proof against all their allurements.

Shortly after the proclamation had taken place, when the crowd
dispersed, and the soldiers had returned to their quarters, two
ladies, both young, and very handsome, well mounted, habited in elegant
riding-dresses, attended b; an elderly personage, who almost looked
like a priest, and followed by a middle-aged man-servant and a couple of
grooms, each having a valise fastened to the saddle, entered Preston
by the avenue connected with the Lancaster road, and proceeded to
the market-place, where they halted to make inquiries respecting Lord
Derwentwaters quarters, and having ascertained that he occupied Sir
Henry Hoghton’s house in Church-street, they went thither.

These ladies attracted considerable attention as they rode along, but no
one could tell who they were, until they were recognised by some of the
gentlemen soldiers, as the Countess of Derwentwater and Miss Forster,
the general’s sister. It was conjectured that the grave-looking
personage who rode beside them might be Father Norham, the earl’s
chaplain, and the old man-servant Mr. Newbiggin, the butler at
Dilston.

When the arrival of the countess and Miss Forster became known it
caused a great sensation in the place, and the news soon reached General
Forster, who chanced to be walking at the time with Mrs. Scarisbrick in
the Fishergate.

The news did not seem altogether agreeable to him, but Mrs. Scarisbrick
was delighted, and said she should be enchanted to make the acquaintance
of the two ladies; whereupon, the complaisant general offered to
introduce her to them forthwith, and begged her to accompany him to Lord
Derwentwater’s quarters, where it was certain they would be found.

As the countess wished to take her husband by surprise, no announcement
of her arrival was made to him. Alone, in a room at the back of
the house, and engaged in writing a letter, he did not perceive her
entrance; but when he raised his eyes, and beheld her standing beside
him, he uttered a cry of delight, and springing up, clasped her to his
breast.

“How strange!” he exclaimed, after the first expressions of delight
were over. “I was just writing to you to say I wished I had the power to
conjure you here, and as if in answer to the summons, you appear.”

“You are certainly the enchanter, who has brought me here,” she replied,
smiling. “But I am not alone?” she cried. “Father Norham is with me, and
Newbiggin; and I have also brought Dorothy Forster to see her brother.”

“Dorothy is much wanted,” he replied. “But tell me how you got here?
Have you experienced any hindrance or annoyance on the road?”

“None whatever,” she replied. “We set out from Dilston two days ago, and
got to Lancaster yesterday, just after you had left, but were too tired
to follow, so we rested there, and came on to-day. Do not imagine that I
intend to accompany you in your campaign. My sole object in coming here
is to see you once more. Left by myself at Dilston I became so unhappy
that I thought I should have died. In vain Father Norham offered me all
the consolation in his power. I consulted Dorothy--told her how wretched
I was--that I was resolved to see you again, cost what it might--and she
agreed to accompany me. Finding nothing could turn me from my purpose,
Father Norham likewise volunteered to attend me--nor could I leave
Newbiggin behind. I hope I have not done wrong in bringing him. There
are plenty of faithful servants to take care of the castle during my
absence. But what excellent quarters you have got. This is really a
charming house.”

“Yes, I believe it is the best in the town. It belongs to Sir Henry
Hoghton, who commands the Lancashire militia. He is gone to Wigan, where
he expects to be joined--if he has not been already joined--by General
Wills, with several regiments of dragoons. Our foes you see are close at
hand, yet they might be a hundred miles off for aught Forster seems to
care. If I had the command of the army, I should have fortified myself
at Lancaster, but Forster decided otherwise. Now we may have to stand
an assault here. And Wills is not our only enemy. General Carpenter is
advancing from Newcastle, and possibly may overtake us, ere we leave
Preston.”

“What if he does!” said the countess. “You have no reason to fear him.”

“With Foster at our head, we shall never win a battle,” said the earl.

“You are dispirited, my dear lord,” observed the countess; “and I think
without reason.”

“I wish I could think so,” he rejoined, sadly. “But I cannot. With such
a general as Forster we shall do no good. But where are Dorothy and
Father Norham?”

“I left them in the large room opening from the hall,” she replied.

“I must go and bid them welcome,” said the earl. “I am rejoiced that
Dorothy has come. She has great influence with her brother, and may
extricate us from the dreadful dilemma in which we are placed.”

“Finding your quarters so good, I have asked her to stay with me here,”
 said the countess. “I don’t think she will be in the way.”

“Not in the least,” replied the earl. “There is room for a dozen more.
My brother Charles is the only person in the house with me, and nothing
can be more agreeable to him than Dorothy’s society. By-the-bye, I must
tell you that since his arrival here, the general has fallen desperately
in love with a fair widow--Mrs. Scarisbrick. I mention the matter
because I have no doubt you will soon see her. She is really very
handsome, as are all the Preston women, who have made sad work with most
of the young men in my regiment. They are half crazed about them. But
come along, sweetheart. We must not remain talking here. I want to see
Dorothy and Father Norham.”

Newbiggin was standing in the passage as the earl came forth with the
countess, and received a very kindly greeting from his lordship.

“I am very glad to see you, Newbiggin,” said Lord Derwentwater. “I
haven’t time to talk to you now, but I shall have a good deal to say to
you, when I am more at leisure.”

“Has your lordship any orders to give me?” inquired the butler.

“Yes. Select a good room for Miss Forster, and another for Father
Norham, and let all be got ready for them without delay.”

“It shall be done, my lord,” replied the butler. “Your lordship will
find them in this room,” he added, opening the door of a spacious and
well-furnished apartment.



IV.--MRS. SCARISBRICK.

|As the earl entered, Father Norham advanced to meet him, and saluting
him affectionately, gave him his benediction. This little ceremony over,
Lord Derwentwater addressed himself to Dorothy, expressing his delight
at seeing her, and thanking her for her kindness in accompanying the
countess on the hazardous expedition.

“I only hope you will have no cause to regret your obliging compliance
with her wishes,” he said. “I hope you will stay with her here, for I
really think you will be better off in this house than in the general’s
quarters.”

“Oh! yes, Dorothy will stay with me I’m quite sure,” cried the countess.
“I can’t part with her.”

Dorothy gladly assented to the arrangement, which indeed was very
agreeable to her, and this matter being settled, the earl again
addressed himself to Father Norham, and told him he was happy in being
able to offer him such excellent accommodation.

“You shall have as good a room as you have been accustomed to at
Dilston,” he said.

“I beg your lordship not to trouble yourself on my account,” replied the
priest. “I care not where I am lodged.”

Just then, Newbiggin came in and announced General Forster and Mrs.
Scarisbrick, and next moment the general made his appearance with the
young widow.

While he presented her to the countess and his sister, the priest
retired to the further end of the room.

Both ladies were very much struck by Mrs. Scarisbrick’s beauty and
liveliness. She did not seem more than five-and-twenty. She was a
blonde, with very fine eyes and pretty features, and had a graceful
figure, set off by a charming dress.

She appeared exceedingly good-natured, and was certainly very desirous
to please. Indeed her manner was so engaging that both ladies were
delighted with her. The only thing that surprised Lady Derwentwater was
that she could tolerate such a man as Forster.

“I hope your lordship and Miss Forster will like Preston,” she said
after her presentation to them by the general. “We will do our best to
amuse you. In spite of war’s alarms, a good deal is going on. To-night
there will be a grand ball at the town-hall. I have no doubt it will be
a very gay affair. All the officers will be present.”

“And some of the loveliest women you ever beheld,” said the general. “I
never knew what beauty was till I came to Preston.”

“Don’t mind what the general says,” observed Mrs. Scarisbrick. “He
thinks too much of us.”

“I can’t think too much of you,” sighed Forster.

“Ah! you flatter,” said the widow. “However, if Lady Derwentwater and
Miss Forster will honour the ball with their presence, they will be able
to judge for themselves.”

“Shall we go to this ball?” said the countess to the earl.

“By all means,” he replied. “It will be very numerously attended. In
addition to the officers, all my gentlemen soldiers will be there.”

“Yes, there will be plenty of military,” observed General Forster.
“Your ladyship may think I am jesting, but I assure you there is not an
officer or a trooper in the Northumbrian regiments, who isn’t in love.”

“Beginning with the general himself,” remarked the countess.

“Yes, I own the soft impeachment,” he replied.

Mrs. Scarisbrick affected not to hear the observation, and said to Lady
Derwentwater:

“I must congratulate your ladyship on the house you have got. ‘Tis the
best in the place.”

“So I fancied,” said the countess. “Sir Henry Hoghton must have been
very sorry to quit it.”

“He was driven out by General Forster’s approach,” laughed Mrs.
Scarisbrick.

“Do you know him?” inquired the countess.

“Intimately,” replied Mrs. Scarisbrick; “and like him very much. But he
has one great fault. He is a Whig and a Hanoverian.”

“Then I presume you are a Jacobite?” said the countess.

“As ardent a Jacobite as your ladyship,” replied Mrs. Scarisbrick.

“I know you are very well informed, Mrs. Scarisbrick,” observed Lord
Derwentwater. “What think you of the news that General Wills has arrived
at Wigan?”

“I don’t believe it,” she replied. “Had it been the case, I must have
heard of it. There are all sorts of disquieting rumours at present--but
General Forster needn’t trouble himself about them.”

“I don’t,” said Forster, emphatically.

“You may depend upon having early information from me,” said Mrs.
Scarisbrick. “I have friends at Wigan who will be sure to send me word
if anything is to be apprehended. You may therefore rest quite easy.”

“Nevertheless, I think you ought to advance tomorrow, general,” observed
Lord Derwentwater.

“To-morrow!” exclaimed Mrs. Scarisbrick. “I am sure Lady Derwentwater
will never consent to that.”

“I would if there were any necessity for the step,” rejoined the
countess.

“But there is none--none whatever!” said Mrs. Scarisbrick.

“You say you are a particular friend of Sir Henry Hoghton, Mrs.
Scarisbrick,” remarked Lord Derwentwater. “May I ask whether you have
heard from him since he left?”

“I had a letter from him this very morning, she replied.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed the countess and Dorothy.

“I showed it to General Forster, as he will tell you,” pursued Mrs.
Scarisbrick. “But Sir Henry doesn’t say a word about General Wills.”

“Not very likely he would,” remarked Dorothy.

“There I differ with you,” said the general. “I am certain he would.”

“So am I,” said Mrs. Scarisbrick. “Besides, I have other correspondents
as well as Sir Henry, and I am confident they would have sent me
information of so important a circumstance.”

“Then you think we may rest easy for the present.” observed Dorothy.

“Perfectly,” said Mrs. Scarisbrick. “You shall have timely information
of any danger from me.”

“No need to send a spy to Wigan to watch the enemy’s movements,”
 observed Forster, with a laugh. “I get all the information I require
without trouble.”

“So it seems,” remarked Lord Derwentwater. “But I again counsel an
immediate march on Wigan.”

“Nay, nay, let us rest quietly here for a day or two, and enjoy
ourselves,” said Forster. “We can’t have better quarters. Preston has
a hundred recommendations that no other place possesses. And since the
countess has joined us, I shouldn’t have thought your lordship would
desire to move. What says your ladyship?” he added, appealing to her.

“I should certainly like to remain here for a day or two, if it can be
done with safety,” she replied.

“It can--I’ll answer for it,” said Forster; “and since I am responsible
for any mistake, you may be sure I shall be careful.”

“Trust to me,” said Mrs. Scarisbrick. “Depend upon it I will procure
information of the enemy’s movements.”

“Is she to be relied on?” whispered Dorothy to the earl.

“I cannot tell,” he replied in the same tone. “But your brother is so
bewitched that he will never move. You must look after him.”



V.--IMPORTANT RECRUITS.

|JUST then a great tumult was heard outside, and the ladies flew to the
windows, which looked upon the street, to see what was the matter.

The disturbance was caused by the arrival of some five or six
well-mounted gentlemen, each attended by a dozen armed retainers on
horseback, so that they formed quite a troop. A shouting crowd followed
them, adding to the noise.

General Forster, who had likewise rushed to the window, was greatly
delighted by the sight, since it could not be doubted that these
gentlemen had come to join his forces. They had stopped at the entrance
to his quarters, and were told by one of the sentinels stationed at
the gate, that the general was then at Lord Derwentwater’s house on the
opposite side of the street.

At this juncture, however, Lord Widdrington came forth, and shook hands
very heartily with one of the recruits, a very fine-looking man.

“Who is that handsome and distinguished-looking person?” said the
countess to her lord, who had followed her to the window.

“That is Mr. Townley, of Townley,” replied the earl. “He is Lord
Widdrington’s brother-in-law, and belongs to one of the oldest families
in Lancashire. I am rejoiced to see him here.’’

“And so am I,” cried Forster, joyfully. “Mr. Townley is a great
acquisition. But who is the person next him?”

“I can tell you,” replied Mrs. Scarisbrick. “He is Mr. Shuttleworth of
Shuttleworth Hall, and belongs to as old a family as Mr. Townley.”

“Bravo!” exclaimed Forster.

“The gentleman next him,” said Father Norham, who had now come up, “is
Sir Francis Anderton, of Lostock Hall--a strict Roman Catholic. I know
him well. Next him is another Roman Catholic, Mr. Richard Chorley, of
Chorley.”

“Who comes next?” inquired F orster.

“Mr. Gabriel Hesketh, of Whitehall, near St. Michael’s-in-Wyre,” replied
Mrs. Scarisbrick. “The young gentleman with him is his son, Mr. Cuthbert
Hesketh. Then comes Mr. John Leyburne, of Natesby Hall.”

“But one remains--Mr. Ralph Standish, of Standish,” said Lord
Derwentwater. “He is nearly related to Mr. Townley.”

“All these gentlemen belong to the old religion,” observed Father
Norham.

“It must be owned that the Roman Catholics have proved loyal to King
James,” said Forster.

“If the High Church Tories support us equally well we cannot fail,” said
Lord Derwentwater.

“Oh! we are quite sure of them,” said Forster. “But I must go and
receive our distinguished recruits. I must beg your lordship to come
with me,” he added to Lord Derwentwater.

They were about to leave the room, when the door was thrown open and
Lord Widdrington entered with Mr. Townley, whom he presented to General
Forster, stating that he was come to join the insurgent force, and
Forster had scarcely welcomed him, when the other gentlemen came in, and
were presented in like manner.

This little ceremony gone through, Forster expressed his high
gratification at the adherence of such distinguished persons, and said:

“To prove how sensible I am of the importance of your accession,
gentlemen, you will understand that you all join with the rank of
captain, and I am quite certain you will do credit to the troops you
will command.”

This courteous act, as judicious as good-natured, gave great
satisfaction to the gentlemen, and was suitably acknowledged.

Lord Derwentwater then came forward, and welcomed them in his turn,
offering to provide them all with quarters in his large house.

“My servants will show you the rooms I have to spare, gentlemen,” he
said, “and if you like them, they are quite at your disposal.”

Thanks were offered his lordship for the obliging offer, but it
was eventually arranged that Mr. Townley and Mr. Standish should be
quartered with General Forster, while the others gladly agreed to become
Lord Derventwater’s guests.

These matters being arranged, the gentlemen were presented by his
lordship to the countess, and by General Forster to his sister and Mrs.
Scarisbrick.

Shortly afterwards another arrival took place. This was Mr. Richard
Gascoigne, a Roman Catholic gentleman, belonging to an Irish family of
some distinction. A person of very refined manners, Mr. Gascoigne was a
friend of Colonel Oxburgh, by whom he was presented to General Forster,
and like those who had preceded him was complimented with the rank
of captain. Mr. Gascoigne was very handsome, and seemed to make
a favourable impression upon the ladies--particularly upon Mrs.
Scarisbrick. The general offered him quarters, which he very gladly
accepted.

Several other important additions were made to the force in the course
of the day; but it was remarked that they were all Roman Catholics.
Notwithstanding the promises of support from that party, not a single
High Church Tory joined.

When questioned as to this strange falling off on the part of his
friends, General Forster declared he could not account for it. However
it was quite clear that the insurgent army was considerably augmented.

On the second day after their arrival at Preston, the rebels numbered
more than four thousand men.



VI.--THE BALL AT THE TOWN-HALL.

|Though little time had been allowed for its preparation, the ball at
the town-hall was ‘really very brilliant. The rooms were large, but
crowded to excess, and space could with difficulty be found for the
dancers. As the greater part of the male guests were military, their
varied costumes added materially to the effect of the scene. The leaders
of all the English and Scottish regiments were present, and though
Brigadier Mackintosh rarely appeared at such an assembly, his tall
figure could be descried amid the gay throng.

As a matter of course, General Forster was there--in fact, he was looked
upon as the most important guest and the greatest attention was paid him
by the master of the ceremonies and the stewards, but he seemed entirely
engrossed by Mrs. Scarisbrick.

The two ladies who attracted most attention by their beauty and grace
were the Countess of Der-wentwater and Dorothy Forster. Both looked
charming. They had not come prepared for such a ball, but their dresses
were very becoming. They were attended by Lord Widdrington, Charles
Radclyffe, and several of the Scottish nobles. Lord Derwentwater was
not very far off, but he was engaged in converse with Mr. Townley, Mr.
Standish, and Sir Francis Anderton.

At this ball all the beauty of Preston was displayed, and no town in the
county--perhaps no town in the kingdom--could have made such a display.

The Preston ladies had a witchery about them that very few of the
opposite sex could resist. Wherein the charm consisted we cannot say
exactly--but since most of them had extremely fine eyes, their glances
may have had something to do with it. Be this as it may, the effect of
the fascination was manifest. All submitted to the influence--the old
campaigner as well as the young recruit. Every damsel appeared to have
an admirer--some half a dozen.

Whatever political opinions they had heretofore entertained, the ladies
were all now staunch adherents of King James, who could not, they
declared, be better represented than by his army, and that army must not
be in a hurry to depart. So far from desiring to go, the gallant young
troopers declared they should like to remain at Preston for ever.

At the special request of Captain Shaftoe, the handsome young recruits
from Lancaster had been invited, and they caused quite as great a
sensation as they had done on their arrival at the town. They had no
difficulty in obtaining partners, for all the young ladies were
anxious to dance with them, and it must be owned that they danced with
remarkable spirit and grace. A cotillon in which they figured with
some of the prettiest girls in the room, was the great success of the
evening.

“Who are those smart young fellows,” inquired Mrs. Scarisbrick, who was
looking on at the dance with General Forster.

“I know nothing about them, except that they are recruits from
Lancaster,” he replied. “They have been introduced by Captain Shaftoe.
You must apply to him for information.”

“They dance charmingly,” observed the lady. “But they look like women.”

“They may be women for aught I know,” said the general. “But they have
joined as troopers--at least, Shaftoe tells me so. He is speaking to
their captain now.”

“And if the so-called captain is not a woman in disguise, I am very much
mistaken,” observed Mrs. Scarisbrick.

The music having struck up for another dance the young sparks ought to
have surrendered their partners, who were engaged three or four deep,
instead of which they stood up with them again--a course of proceeding
that gave great umbrage to the claimants; and in a few minutes a
disturbance arose that threw the whole room into confusion.

The Lancaster recruits showed great spirit, and refused to give up
their partners, defying the claimants to take them. The challenge was
excepted, and a struggle ensued, in the midst of which screams arose,
and it was found that three of the Lancashire youths had fainted. Their
sex could, therefore, no longer be concealed; and it then came out, as
Mrs. Scarisbrick had suspected, that they were a party of young damsels,
who had followed their lovers from Lancaster.

The occurrence caused much merriment, and Captain Shaftoe had to undergo
a good deal of raillery from Mrs. Scarisbrick.

Shortly afterwards, the more distinguished guests were summoned to a
magnificent supper, which was served in an adjoining room.

In the course of the evening there were several Highland dances, which
from their novelty produced a great effect. One of these was a Highland
reel, in which Lady Derwentwater and Dorothy took part. The countess
danced with Lord Charles Murray, and Dorothy with Colonel Farquharson of
Invercauld, and acquitted themselves admirably. Beside these, two other
ladies joined the reel and found partners in the Master of Nairn
and Captain Gordon. All danced with great spirit to the stirring
accompaniment of the pipes. A Highland fling, executed by Lord Charles
Murray and Captain Gordon, was rewarded by the applause of Brigadier
Mackintosh.

Owing to the crowded state of the room some inconvenience was
experienced by the dancers, and interruptions occasionally occurred;
but, on the whole, the ball went off remarkably well, and was long
afterwards remembered at Preston. Many ladies, then in their bloom, used
to boast to their grand-daughters, that they had danced with the rebels
in 1715, and they invariably added “Never was seen such a fine set of
young fellows.”

Amid that scene of gaiety and excitement, when all the young men yielded
to the soft influence of beauty, few thought that vigorous preparations
for attacking them were being made by their foes, and that within three
days many of them would be slain, and the rest exiled. Had such thoughts
intruded they would have been quickly banished.

But the revellers were not troubled by any such disagreeable
reflections. Content with the enjoyment of the moment, they gave
themselves no thought of the future. How could it be otherwise, when
their general and most of their officers set them such an example!

But there was one person amid that thoughtless crowd who was oppressed
with care, and felt the danger in which the invading army stood. He felt
that, if this culpable indifference on the part of the general should
continue, they were lost.

Of all that large assemblage which boasted the presence of so many
Scottish nobles and gentlemen--so many wealthy English gentlemen--there
was not one who had so much at stake as he.

As he looked at his lovely wife, who was then calling forth rapturous
admiration in the Highland dance, and felt how soon he might lose her,
he could scarcely repress the pang that crossed his breast.

But she seemed full of excitement, and when she came back to him with
Dorothy, he strove to receive them with a smile.

Dorothy was not allowed much repose after her fatiguing dance. She was
carried off by Charles Radclyffe, who since her arrival seemed to have
fallen desperately in love with her. He told her that her image had been
constantly before him during the march, and earnestly besought her to
enter into an engagement with him.

To this Dorothy replied that she would not make any immediate
engagement, but if he survived the campaign, and renewed his suit, she
would consider the matter. The promise did not altogether satisfy him,
but he was obliged to be content.



VII.--RALPH FAIRBROTHER.

|Somewhat late in the evening, Captain Douglas, who, it may be
remembered, had the command of one of the Northumbrian regiments,
informed General Forster that a spy had been arrested, but the general
was so much engrossed by Mrs. Scarisbrick that he paid no attention to
the information. Captain Douglas then spoke to Brigadier Mackintosh, who
at once went with him to a small room where the man was detained.

Meantime, the spy had been recognised as Ralph Fairbrother, for whose
capture a reward had been offered, and who was supposed to have gone to
General Carpenter at Newcastle. On being searched a letter was found on
him addressed to General Wills, giving particulars of the exact state
of the forces, and making some remarks on Forster’s incompetency. The
letter bore no signature, but was in a female hand. A few lines, traced
in pencil, had evidently been added at the ball, and this important
postscript recommended an immediate attack of the town, stating that it
must be successful, since Forster was unprepared.

After reading this letter, and considering it for a moment, the
brigadier handed it to Captain Douglas, who likewise read it carefully.

“Can ye guess by whom it is written?” inquired Mackintosh in a low tone.

“I can,” replied the other.

“Hark ye, sirrah!” said Mackintosh to the prisoner, who was looking on
anxiously, “if you desire to save your life, you will tell us who wrote
this letter, and from whom you received it.”

“It was slipped into my hand,” replied the spy. “That is all I know
about it.”

“Were you not engaged by a lady to convey it to General Wills? Answer
plainly.”

“I betray no confidences,” replied Fairbrother, firmly.

“Is General Wills at Wigan?” demanded Captain Douglas. “And how many
regiments of infantry, horse, and dragoons, has he got with him?”

“You ask questions I cannot answer, captain,” replied Fairbrother. “And
I would not answer them, if I could.”

“Very well, sir, then you must take the consequences,” said Douglas. “In
my opinion, brigadier, this man ought to be shot.”

“Humph!” ejaculated Mackintosh. “We shall hear what General Forster
says.

“I have nothing to fear from General Forster,” observed Fairbrother.

“Aha! say you so?” exclaimed the brigadier. “We shall see.”

They then left him in custody, and returned to the ballroom. Forster was
still at supper with Mrs. Scarisbrick, and declined to have a private
consultation with the brigadier.

“I will attend to business in the morning--not now,” he said.

“But we have discovered a spy,” observed Mackintosh, looking fixedly at
Mrs. Scarisbrick; “and have found this letter upon him.”

“Give it me,” cried Mrs. Scarisbrick, snatching it from him. “I will
read it to the general.”

“Madam,” cried the brigadier, sternly. “I insist that you place that
letter in the general’s own hands.”

“I don’t want to see it,” observed Forster. “I won’t be troubled
to-night. To-morrow, will be quite time enough. Keep it for me till
then.”

“You will never see it,” cried Mackintosh. “I desire, madam, that the
letter may be at once returned to me. If not, I shall be compelled to
take it from you.”

“Am I to be exposed to this insult, general?” cried Mrs. Scarisbrick,
indignantly.

“Certainly not,” replied Forster, rising from his seat--though not
without some difficulty. “Brigadier, I must request you to retire.”

“I obey,” replied Mackintosh. “But understand that I will shoot this
spy. I am satisfied of his guilt.”

“Do as you please,” said Forster. “Shoot half a dozen spies if you find
them.”

“Nay, for Heaven’s sake! don’t let him shoot the man,” cried Mrs.
Scarisbrick.

“Don’t be alarmed,” said Forster, sitting down again.

“The man will only be kept in the guard-house to-night. I’ll settle the
matter to-morrow. Take some more champagne.”

Reassured by this promise, and having got the letter, Mrs. Scarisbrick
said no more. But she had nothing to fear from poor Fairbrother.

At break of day, he was taken by a file of Highlanders to the fields
near the Wigan-lane, and there shot. The new chaplain of the forces
attended him in his last moments. In explanation of this summary act of
justice, Brigadier Mackintosh caused it to be announced that the man was
a spy.

This act might have been blamed, but circumstances occurred that seemed
to justify its severity.



VIII.--APATHY OF GENERAL FORSTER.

|On the same morning, the Earl of Derwentwater, accompanied by the
countess and Dorothy, and attended by Charles Radclyffe and Captain
Gordon, but without any guard, rode down to the Ribble Bridge.

While the earl was inspecting the bridge, and the ladies were admiring
the river, and the view of the town from the spot, their attention was
aroused by the sound of horse’s footsteps, and immediately afterwards a
man galloped up.

He would have ridden on, but Captain Gordon stopped him, and led him to
the earl. It appeared that he had left Wigan early in the morning,
and brought very important intelligence. General Wills was undoubtedly
there, and, having been joined by six more regiments of dragoons on the
preceding evening, it was certain he would make immediate arrangements
to attack the insurgents, so that they must be prepared for him.

On receiving this intelligence, the earl at once returned to the town,
and proceeded to General Forster’s quarters, but could not see him, as
the general had not yet risen, being much fatigued by the ball.

Instigated by the countess and Dorothy, the earl determined to take all
the responsibility upon himself, and ordered Charles Radclyffe to take
his regiment to defend Ribble Bridge. But before the order could be
obeyed, Forster appeared and countermanded it.

“It seems to me,” said the general, “that my authority is set at naught.
A man has been shot as a spy by Brigadier Mackintosh without consulting
me, and now orders are given that a guard shall advance towards Wigan.
I suppose the next order will be that the whole army shall get ready to
march.”

“It ought to be,” said Dorothy. “You are loitering here far too long,
and will be surprised by the enemy. Are you aware that General Wills has
just been joined by several more regiments?”

“I do not believe a word of it,” rejoined Forster. “Had such been the
case, I should certainly have been informed of it.”

“But a scout has just returned from Wigan,” cried the countess. “We have
seen him, and spoken with him. Will you not question him yourself?”

“‘Tis needless,” said Forster. “The man has been imposed upon.”

“Then you will neither march against the enemy, nor take any steps for
the defence of the town?” cried the Earl of Derwentwater.

“Not unless I receive accurate intelligence,” rejoined Forster. “I am
under no apprehension.”

“Was there ever such obstinacy?” exclaimed the earl, turning away
in disgust. “Nay, ‘tis in vain to reason with him,” he added to the
countess.

“Your lordship will understand,” said Forster, “that tomorrow I shall
commence the march to Manchester.”

“To-morrow we shall not be able to leave Preston,” rejoined the earl.

“We shall see,” replied Forster, laughing. “Meanwhile, I recommend you
to make the most of your time, and enjoy yourself while you can. There
is another banquet at the town-hall to day.”

“For the last time, I ask you if you are resolved not to move?”

“Not till to-morrow,” replied Forster, positively. “I am about to give
general orders to that effect.”

And he quitted the room.

The countess and Dorothy looked aghast.

“What is to be done?” cried the former.

“Nothing,” replied the earl. “Nothing can be done. We are doomed.”

The announcement that the general did not mean to continue his march
south till the morrow was very agreeable to the majority of the
army--indeed a great many of the gentlemen troopers hoped that when the
morrow came there would be another delay. They were quite as infatuated
as the general, and spent the greater part of the day in the society
of the ladies, A large party collected on the Ribble Bridge, but it was
with no intention of defending it.

Another banquet was given at the town-hall, to which the leaders and
officers were bidden. Amongst the few ladies invited, were the Countess
of Dervventwater, Dorothy Forster, and Mrs. Scarisbrick. Since the
last-mentioned lady was present, the general was quite happy, and
perfectly indifferent to the future.

Besides this festive meeting, there were innumerable tea-parties, where
the gentlemen troopers were very agreeably entertained; while the Mitre,
the White Bull, and the Windmill were filled to overflowing with guests.

With this pleasant evening passed away the gaieties of Preston. No more
flirting--no more carousing. All merriment was over.

The morrow’s sun arose on a day of strife and slaughter.



IX.--PARSON WOODS OF CHOWBENT.

|While the whole insurgent army is feasting and carousing, we shall
repair to Wigan, and see what General Wills is about.

Wigan, a very different town from what it is at present, was filled with
soldiers. Besides Sir Henry Hoghton’s six hundred militiamen, and three
regiments of foot, respectively commanded by Captains Sabine, Fane, and
Preston, there was a fine regiment of horse, commanded by Colonel
Pitt, and five regiments of dragoons, commanded by Major-General Wynn,
Colonels Honeywood, Dormer, Munden, and Stanhope.

Whether Wills was an able general may be questioned, but he was an
active and very determined man. Strongly built and well made, he had a
military bearing, and a stern, inflexible countenance. Obstinate he
was, but his obstinacy was very different from that of the incompetent
Forster. He could not be turned from his purpose by advice, but his
plans were carefully considered. He was in constant communication with
General Carpenter, but feeling’ certain he could defeat the rebels
unaided, his great desire was to attack them before Carpenter came
up, so that he might gain all the glory of the victory. Therefore,
he hurried on his preparations--though not unduly so. Having a secret
correspondent in Preston, he knew the exact numbers of the force, and
was also aware of the utter incompetency of Forster, but he thought
the chief command might be taken, at the last moment, by the Earl of
Derwentwater. He had likewise some fears of Mackintosh, with whose
valour and skill he was well acquainted. Still, he felt sure of an easy
conquest, and was impatient to achieve it.

While General Wills was arranging his plans for the attack, Sir Henry
Hoghton came into his room, and said:

“Acting on a suggestion of your own, general, I have begged the
Presbyterian ministers in this neighbourhood--many of whom are well
known to me--to induce their congregations to assist me in this struggle
against Popery, and I am extremely happy to say I have succeeded--at
least, in one instance. The Reverend James Woods, Presbyterian minister
of Chowbent, has promptly and energetically responded to my appeal. The
worthy man has used such exertions that he has already got together a
troop of some forty or fifty active young men. For the most part they
are armed with scythes, fixed on straight poles, and bill-hooks, but
they are stout active young fellows, and will undoubtedly do good
service.”

“Are they here?” inquired Wills.

“They are, general,” replied Sir Henry. “And so is their pastor, the
Reverend James Woods.”

“I will see him at once,” replied Wills.

He then went forth with Sir Henry, and in front of the old house, where
he had fixed his quarters, he found a large party of stalwart-looking
young fellows, armed with the weapons described. At their head was a
sturdy-looking individual, of middle age, clad in a suit of black, and
having a well-powdered wig on his head. Notwithstanding his decidedly
clerical appearance, he had a brace of pistols in his belt, and a sword
girt by his side.

General Wills could not help smiling when he beheld him. Still, he
perceived at a glance that the parson would prove serviceable, and he
therefore gave him a hearty welcome.

“I am very glad to find, Mr. Woods,” he said, “that you have come to
assist the Government at this crisis. Rest assured your conduct will be
appreciated in the right quarter.”

“I and a portion of my flock have come to fight for the king, general,”
 replied the minister. “We will uphold him against a Popish Pretender.
We are ready to take any part you may be pleased to assign us, and I
promise you the rebels shall meet with a stout resistance from us.”

“They shall,” cried the men, brandishing their scythes and bill-hooks.

“I thankfully accept your offer,” said Wills, “I am sure you promise no
more than you will perform. Tomorrow morning, at an early hour, I shall
march to Preston to give battle to the rebels, and you shall go with me,
or rather shall march on before me--so that you can take up a position
before I come up. Do you know Penwortham--about two miles below the
bridge over the Ribble?”

“I know the place well, general,” replied Woods. “It is on the south
bank of the river, which is there fordable.”

“Exactly. It is that ford I wish you to guard. I must tell you that it
may become a post of danger, as some of the rebels may attempt to escape
that way.”

“I don’t care for danger,” said the valiant pastor; “and I hope I shall
take many prisoners.”

“If necessary, a party of men shall be sent to support you,” said Wills.

“I trust we shall not need support, general,” said the pastor,
resolutely. “Before the day is over I fancy my followers will have got
some better arms than they now possess.”

“Decidedly, you ought to have been a soldier, reverend sir,” observed
Wills. “You would have done credit to the profession. Now, will you
remain here for the night, or march on with your men to Chorley, so as
to have less to do to-morrow?”

“We will adopt the latter course, general,” replied the pastor. “We will
halt for the night at a small place called Whittle-in-the-Woods,
about six miles from Penwortham. We can take up our post early in the
morning. Have you any further orders to give me?”

“None,” replied Wills. “But I hope you will take some refreshment before
you set out on your march.”

“All is ready for you,” said Sir Henry Hoghton, advancing. “Come with me
and bring your men with you.” Parson Woods willingly complied with the
invitation, and, saluting the general in a military style, accompanied
Sir Henry to the mess-room of the militia, where a substantial repast
awaited him and his men.

Thoroughly recruited, and in very good spirits, the warlike pastor
commenced his march to Whittle-in-the-Woods.



X.--GENERAL WILLS ARRIVES AT PRESTON.

|Having fully arranged his plans, General Wills summoned the various
commanders, and after explaining to them his views, made the following
disposition of his forces.

The horse and dragoons were to be formed into three brigades: the first
to consist of Wynn’s and Honey-wood’s regiments, under the command of
Brigadier Honeywood; the second to comprise Munden’s and Stanhope’s
regiments, under the command of Brigadier Mun-den; and the third to
comprehend Pitt and Dormer’s regiments, under the command of Brigadier
Donner.

“We shall set out at break of day,” said the general, “and this will be
the order of march. In the front will be Preston’s foot, with a vanguard
of fifty men from the regiment, commanded by Lord Forrester. Then will
follow the three brigades I have appointed, while the whole of the
militia, under the command of Sir Henry Hoghton, will bring up the
rear.”

“Am I to cross the bridge, general?” inquired Sir Henry, who was
present.

“Most probably the bridge and the approaches to it will be defended,”
 replied Wills. “Post your men at various points on the south bank of the
river. Station two parties of horse about a hundred yards apart on the
left of the bridge, and place small parties along the bank as far as
the ferry-house, extending them, if necessary, in the direction of
Penwortham, where Parson Woods will be posted with his men. Thus the
whole of the bank will be guarded, and no supplies can be conveyed to
the rebels--nor can any of them escape.”

“I quite understand, general,” said Sir Henry, “and will carefully
attend to your instructions.”

“One word more, gentlemen, and I have done,” said Wills, looking round.
“As we shall set out as soon as it is light, you must all be on the
alert an hour before daybreak, so as to prevent any chance of delay.
This applies particularly to the foot and the advanced guard, who ought
to start half an hour before the horse. We shall halt for an hour at
Chorley, to breakfast.”

In anticipation of the day they had before them, the commanders and
officers retired early to rest. But not till he had satisfied himself
by personal inspection that all the regiments under his command were in
good marching order did General Wills seek his couch.

Fully an hour before daybreak the reveille was sounded, and it was
scarcely light when the vanguard, commanded by Lord Forrester, marched
out of Wigan.

After a short interval, the advanced guard was followed by Preston’s
regiment of foot--known as the Old Cameronians--which could boast some
of the finest men in the service. Then followed, after another pause,
the three brigades of cavalry; and both men and horses being in
excellent condition, these regiments looked remarkably well. General
Wills rode with Brigadier Honeywood at the head of the first brigade.

After a long train of baggage waggons came the militia, numbering some
six hundred horse and foot, commanded by Sir Henry Hoghton. Like the
regular soldiers, the militia-men looked exceedingly well, and were
loudly cheered by the inhabitants, most of whom--though the hour was so
early--had assembled to witness the march forth of the troops.

The spectacle was rendered infinitely more impressive by the
circumstance that the men were about to fight a battle. The result,
however, of the impending contest seemed scarcely doubtful, and the
general opinion was that the rebellion would be effectually crushed.

Confident in their leader, and animated by their officers, who promised
them an easy victory over the insurgents, with the plunder of the rich
town of Preston, the king’s soldiers were in excellent spirits.

Nor did anything occur in the march to disquiet them. The morning being
fine and the roads in tolerably good order the infantry got on very
well, and were very little fatigued on reaching Chorley.

During the halt at Chorley, word was brought to General Wills, by a
scout that the bridge over the Ribble was defended by Colonel John
Farquharson of Invercauld, with a hundred picked men belonging to
Colonel Mackintosh’s battalion.

General Forster had likewise come forth to reconnoitre, and had been
seen with a party of horse about two miles south of the bridge, on the
Wigan road.

This intelligence did not seem to necessitate any alteration in General
Wills’s plans, but he ordered Lord Forrester and Captain Preston to halt
at Walton-le-Dale till he himself should come up.

After this short halt the march was resumed, and on arriving at
Walton-le-Dale, the general learnt Colonel Farquharson had been
strengthened by three hundred men sent to support him by the Earl of
Derwentwater.

Under the impression that the bridge would be stoutly defended, Wills
prepared to attack it with Honeywood’s brigade, but what was his
surprise, on arriving at the spot, to find the passage entirely
unoccupied!

What had become of Colonel Farquharson and his Highlanders? Where were
Lord Derwentwater’s three hundred men? Not one of them was to be seen.
Though there was nothing to impede his progress. Wills hesitated for a
few minutes, suspecting some stratagem might be intended. He then rode
boldly across the bridge, and was followed by his whole force with the
exception of the militia, which remained on the south bank of the river,
and took up the position assigned.

After crossing the bridge Wills again halted before entering the deep
lane that led to the town, and thinking the hedges might be lined, he
caused them to be examined, but no skirmishers could be discovered.

Unable, otherwise, to account for such strange neglect of all
precautions, he came to the conclusion that the rebels must have
abandoned the town, and commenced a retreat to Scotland.

Should this prove to be the case, it would be a great disappointment to
him, as well as to his soldiery, since it would deprive him of victory,
and the men of the plunder they expected to obtain.

However, his alarm was quickly dispelled. A prisoner had been taken, and
was brought before him.

The man had refused to answer the sergeant who first interrogated him,
but as Wills threatened to have him shot, he became more compliant.

“Where are the rebels?” demanded the general.

“In the town,” replied the man, sullenly.

“Is General Forster there?” continued Wills.

“I suppose so,” said the prisoner.

“And Lord Derwentwater?”

“Maybe,” replied the man. “But I have not seen him.”

“Take care how you answer, fellow!” cried Wills sternly. “Are you quite
sure Brigadier Mackintosh has not set out for Scotland?”

“Quite sure,” replied the man, “I saw him not half an hour ago--helping
to make a barricade.”

“A barricade!” exclaimed Wills, glancing at Brigadier Honeywood. “Now
we are coming to it. Where is the barricade formed?” he added to the
prisoner.

“In the Churchgate,” replied the man.

“Is that the only barrier?”

“No, there are three others. All the entrances to the town are
barricaded.”

“Then the rebels mean to defend themselves?” said Wills.

“To the last. You needn’t expect them to surrender.”

“If they don’t, I shall cut them to pieces,” said Wills, sternly. “Go
back to the town and tell them so.”

“I won’t deliver any such message. It would cost me my life.”

“No matter,” cried Wills. “Obey me. Recollect what I have said. Not
one of the rebels shall escape me--unless their leaders surrender at
discretion. Now begone!”

The man was then set free, and driven towards the town, but he did not
re-enter it.

General Wills then quitted the lane, which was shut in, as we have
said, by high hedges, and led his troops to some fields on the left that
commanded a full view of the town.

How peaceful and beautiful it looked! Even the stem Wills, who was about
to deliver it up to fire and sword, felt a certain regret at the thought
of destroying so pleasant a place.

Very few evidences of preparation on the part of the insurgents were
visible, the barriers and intrenchments being all in the interior of the
town.

A few soldiers could be descried at the outskirts, but no guard was
placed at the extremity of the avenues. Wills quite understood what
this meant, and judged correctly that the houses on either side of the
streets must be filled with troops ready to pour a murderous fire upon
the assailants as they entered the town.

Aware that the cavalry could not act within the town, Wills gave orders
that two regiments of dragoons should dismount, when the attack was
made, in order to support the foot. His first business, however, was to
dispose his men so as to prevent the rebels from sallying forth, and cut
off their retreat in case they should make the attempt.

This done, he ordered two attacks to be made simultaneously upon the
town; one by Brigadier Honeywood from the Wigan Road on the south--the
other by Brigadiers Dormer and Munden from the Lancaster Road on the
north.

His directions were thus conveyed to Honeywood:

“You will have with you Preston’s regiment of foot to be commanded by
Lord Forrester, likewise two hundred and fifty dismounted dragoons,
commanded by five captains. These are to support Preston’s foot. You
will sustain the whole with your regiment.”

“Your orders shall be obeyed, general,” replied Honeywood.

Wills then gave similar directions to Brigadiers Dormer and Munden,
telling them they would have under their joint command three hundred
dismounted dragoons for the attack on the Lancaster Avenue, which would
be sustained by two mounted regiments.

Then, addressing the brigadiers, he added:

“Obtain possession of the ends of the town as speedily as may be, and
set fire to the houses, in order to dislodge the rebels, who no doubt
occupy them. Next make lodgments for your own men, so as to prevent
the sallying forth of the rebels upon them, and check the escape of the
enemy.”

“It shall be done, general,” said Brigadier Dormer.

“Before commencing hostilities, however, I shall send a summons of
surrender to General Forster,” said Wills. “But I do not think he will
comply with it.”

Scarcely were the words spoken, than several shots were fired from
a farm-yard near the town, by which an orderly near the general was
killed, and another officer wounded.

“Soh!” cried Wills, fiercely. “There will now be no summons to
surrender. Let the attack commence forthwith.”

Brigadiers Dormer and Munden with the regiments under their command,
then rode off to the north side of the town to attack the Lancaster
Avenue; while Lord Forrester led Preston’s foot towards the upper end of
the Wigan Avenue, followed by the dismounted dragoons, and sustained by
Brigadier Honeywood’s regiment.

Shortly afterwards, sharp firing announced that the attack had commenced
on both sides of the town.

END OF BOOK THE SEVENTH.



_BOOK THE EIGHTH_--THE DEFENCE

[Illustration: 0234]



I.--THE BARRICADES.

|RUDELY awakened from his slumbers at a far earlier hour than he usually
allowed himself to be disturbed, by the intelligence that Wills was
marching to attack him with his whole force, and scarcely able, even
then, to credit the unwelcome news, and with an aching head, General
Forster attired himself in haste, and, ordering a small troop of horse
to attend him, rode forth to reconnoitre.

On reaching the Ribble Bridge, he found a party of Highlanders placed
there, and was informed by Colonel Farquharson, who commanded them, that
the king’s army was certainly approaching.

Still doubting, the general rode on for a few miles further, when he
descried the vanguard of the enemy, and quickly turned back.

In the interval the Highlanders had left the bridge, their place being
taken by three hundred of Lord Derwentwater’s men, under the command of
Captain Shaftoe. Angry that this change should have been made without
his sanction, Forster ordered Shaftoe to abandon the bridge and return
to the town.

The order was very reluctantly obeyed. Captain Shaftoe would fain have
proceeded to Penwortham to dislodge Parson Woods, but was not allowed.

Immediately on his return to the town, General Forster summoned a
council of war, which was attended by all the English and Scottish
leaders. They were quite alive to the danger of their position, and
evidently had very little reliance either on the judgment or skill of
their commander.

Under these circumstances the advice of Brigadier Mackintosh was
urgently requested by Lord Derwent-water and others.

“You have greater military experience than any of us, brigadier,” said
the earl. “What plan do you suggest?”

“Will you follow out my plan, if I offer it?” said the brigadier.

“We will,” replied the earl. “If we waste time in discussion, the enemy
will be upon us.”

“Aweel, then,” said Mackintosh. “It will be useless to defend the
bridge, since the river is fordable in many places, nor do I think it
would be safe to risk a battle outside the town, because the Highlanders
have not yet learned to face cavalry. Nothing frightens them so much as
a charge of horse. For this reason I would have the battle take place
within the town, where the cavalry, of which the enemy’s force chiefly
consists, will be least serviceable, and where the Highlanders will
fight well. Barricades and intrenchments can be thrown up in different
parts of the streets, so as to impede the advance of the enemy, and a
destructive fire can be poured upon them from the roofs and windows of
the houses.”

All approved of the plan, except Forster, and he was overruled.

“How many barricades shall we require?--and where do you propose to
erect them?” said Lord Widdring-ton.

“Four will suffice,” replied the brigadier. “In fact, we haven’t time to
form more The first shall be placed a little below the church, and as it
is likely to be the chief object of attack, I will take the command of
it myself.”

“Why not make it at the extreme end of the street, so as to prevent the
entrance of the enemy?” said Forster.

“There are so many lanes and avenues thereabouts that I should require
more men than I possess to defend the post,” replied the brigadier. “The
second barrier will be best placed, in my opinion, at the back of the
house now occupied by Lord Derwentwater, and I would have it commanded
by Lord Charles Murray.”

“I accept the post,” replied the gallant young nobleman.

“The third barrier should be in the Fishergate,” pursued the brigadier;
“and it would be well served by Lord Strathmore’s men, under the command
of Captain Douglas.”

“I am glad you have named me to a post of danger, brigadier,” said
Captain Douglas. “I’ll do my best to maintain it.”

“The last battery must be near the windmill in the Lancaster avenue.”
 said the brigadier; “and I will confide it to my kinsman, Colonel
Mackintosh, and his men.”

“I’ll take it,” replied the colonel; “and keep it--as long as I can.”

“And now let us set to work at once,” said the brigadier. “We haven’t a
minute to lose.”

Thereupon they all went forth, and each person, to whom the construction
and command of a barricade had been committed, called his men together,
and proceeded to the appointed spot.

Such extraordinary exertions were made, and so many hands employed, that
in an incredibly short space of time intrenchments were thrown up, and
strong barriers formed.

The Earl of Derwentwater and Charles Radclyffe, assisted in person in
the formation of the Churchgate barrier. Stripping off their coats they
worked like pioneers, and were greatly encouraged by the presence of the
countess and Dorothy Forster.

As soon as the Churchgate barrier was completed, two of the ship
guns brought from Lancaster were placed upon it and entrusted to the
management of Tom Syddall and some of his men.

While these defensive preparations were going on, all the houses in
Church-street and the Fishergate were filled with Highlanders and
dismounted troopers, ready to fire upon the enemy from window, roof, and
cellar.

In these two streets were the best houses of the town, and here
Brigadier Mackintosh anticipated that the chief attack would be made.

The church, as already mentioned, was surrounded by an extensive
churchyard, and here--as the most available place for the purpose--a
strong force was collected.

On the north side of the edifice were posted the Low-landers and
Northumbrian gentlemen--the latter being now dismounted--under the
command of Colonel Ox-burgh and Colonel Brereton, who had lately joined
as a volunteer.

On the south side were planted the Borderers, likewise dismounted, under
the command of Captains Douglas and Hunter.

In a small street adjoining Sir Henry Hoghton’s house, a small barrier
had been formed by Captain Wogan and his regiment.

All the reserves were posted in the market-place, and here were kept the
horses of the dismounted troopers.

While the barriers were being formed, General Forster, attended by a
small party of men, rode from point to point to give directions, which
were not always obeyed.

Having finished his survey he entered the town-hall, where a great
number of ladies had taken refuge--among whom was Mrs. Scarisbrick--and
assured them they had nothing to fear.

“The enemy will never be able to penetrate the centre of the town,” he
said. “All the fighting will take place at the barricades. We shall soon
force them to retreat.”

“I am glad to find you are so confident,” said Mrs. Scarisbrick. “For my
own part I confess I feel very uneasy--though I don’t doubt the bravery
of our troops.”

“My preparations are so well made that we are quite unassailable,” said
Forster. “The barriers will never be passed. Lady Derwentwater and my
sister entertain so little apprehension of the result of the attack that
they do not mean to quit Sir Henry Hoghton’s house, but will station
themselves on the roof to witness the attack on the battery.”

“I begin to think I should like to see the commencement of the attack,”
 remarked Mrs. Scarisbrick. “It must be a very curious sight. And since
you say there is no danger----”

“I don’t say so,” interrupted Forster. “On the contrary, there is very
great danger. Stay where you are. You are quite safe here.”

“No, I _will_ go,” she cried. “My curiosity is aroused. You shall take
me to Sir Henry Hoghton’s house.”

“Don’t ask me!” he cried. “I won’t do it.”

The lady, however, being determined, he was obliged to comply.

Ordering a trooper to follow him with his horse, he conducted her to
Church-street, which was now full of soldiers, and left her at the
entrance to Sir Henry Hoghton’s house. She would not allow him to go
further, saying, she could easily find her way to the roof.



II.--WHAT THE COUNTESS AND DOROTHY BEHELD FROM THE SUMMIT OF THE
MANSION.

|No position in the town, except, perhaps, the tower of the church,
commanded so good a view of the proceedings as was obtained from the
summit of this lofty mansion.

Part of the roof was flat, and protected by a balustrade, and it was
here that the countess and Dorothy Forster were stationed.

They had come there, after witnessing the completion of the barricade
at which the earl had assisted, and contemplated the scene with
extraordinary interest.

From this spot they could clearly distinguish the movements of the
enemy. They saw General Wills issue from the Wigan lane with his
infantry and cavalry, and draw up in the fields to survey the town, and
they could not help contrasting the appearance of the king’s soldiers
with that of their own undisciplined troops.

After a time, they saw two brigades of horse and dragoons move off
towards the other side of the town, and though these troops soon
disappeared, the object of the movement was clear.

An attack was about to be made on the Lancaster avenue. Nor could it
be doubted that a simultaneous attack would be made on the south by the
forces left behind.

This conviction sent a thrill of terror through the breasts of the
two lookers-on. But they were reassured when they perceived that both
streets were now very strongly guarded--that the trenches were completed
and cannon mounted on the barricades--that not only were troops thickly
planted at the barriers, but the roofs and windows of all the houses
were occupied by Highlanders and other soldiers--that the churchyard,
which was almost opposite them, was full of troops--showing that if the
enemy was ready to make the attack, their friends were prepared for a
gallant defence.

Nor was this all. Looking towards the Broadway at the back of the
garden, they could descry the barricade commanded by Lord Charles
Murray, and saw that it was guarded by a large party of Highlanders,
while the advanced guard of Northumbrian gentlemen, commanded by Captain
Wogan, could likewise be seen posted at the end of a narrow street at
the left.

In a word, all the approaches, so far as discernible, seemed well
protected. The access to the market-place from Church-street was blocked
up by cavalry.

Nor could they entertain any doubt that the preparations on the other
side of the town were equally efficient. They felt sure that the
Lancaster avenue would be well guarded by Colonel Mackintosh and the
Clan Chattan. The spectacle thus presented to their gaze dispelled any
misgivings, and filled them with ardour.

At this juncture Lord Derwentwater appeared on the roof, attended by
Father Norham and Newbiggin.

“You must quit this place immediately,” he said. “The attack is about
to commence. Father Norham and Newbiggin will take you to the town-hall,
where you will be safe.”

“We shall see nothing at the town-hall,” said the countess. “I don’t
think we are in the least danger here.”

“You cannot remain,” said the earl. “The lower part of the house is
occupied by Captain Innes with a party of Highlanders, and when the
attack commences, some of them will come to the roof.”

“Let us stay till then,” entreated Dorothy. “We must see the
commencement of the attack.”

“I will not stir from the post at present,” said the countess.

“I shall never forgive myself if any disaster occurs,” said the earl. “I
ought not to have consented to your remaining here so long. Why did you
not yield to my entreaties? Had you set out yesterday, you would now be
far on the road to Dilston.”

“You must blame me more than the countess, my lord,” said Dorothy. “I
besought her to stay, and she yielded to my request.”

“Commit no further errors,” said Father Norham. “Quit this dangerous
position immediately, and repair to the town-hall as suggested by his
lordship.”

“Must we really go?” said the countess, with an appealing look to the
earl. “Do let us stay for a few minutes longer!”

“Well, I consent,” he replied. “But only on the condition that you
depart when Father Norham deems it prudent to do so. I commit them to
your care, father.”

“Be sure I will watch over them, my son,” replied the priest.

“Newbiggin, I need not give any commands to you,” said the earl. “You
will attend to your lady and Miss Forster.”

“With my life,” replied the butler.

Scarcely had the earl taken his departure than Mrs. Scarisbrick made her
appearance on the roof, and took up her station by the other ladies.

“I am just in time,” she said, after greetings had passed between.
“General Forster says there is no danger here.”

“I hope not,” replied Dorothy. “But we shall not remain here long.”

Meantime, the Earl of Derwentwater had proceeded to the adjacent
barrier, and taken up a position with Brigadier Mackintosh, who had
likewise been joined by Lord Kenmure and the Earls of Wintoun and
Nithsdale.



III.--THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE ASSAULT.

|A STRANGE and portentous quietude now prevailed, like the awful hush
preceding a storm. All the insurgent troops were in position, and in
momentary expectation of the attack.

The barricades were manned, the houses occupied with soldiers as we
have mentioned, and the churchyard filled with troops. But not a sound
proceeded from this vast collection of men.

Never before had Preston beheld such a sight. Except in the market
place, all business was suspended throughout the town, but here the
houses were open, and the Mitre and the Bull were thronged.

Terrified to death at the thought of the approaching conflict, almost
all the residents in Church-street and Fishergate had quitted their
houses, and repaired to the centre of the town. It was the same thing in
Friargate, and in many houses in the Lancaster avenue.

Thus in fear and trembling did the inhabitants of Preston await the
commencement of the assault.

At length, a murmur arose from those stationed on the roofs of houses,
and everywhere were heard the words, “They come.”

Then the countess and Dorothy, with hundreds of others who were gazing
eagerly towards the Wigan avenue, beheld a body of red-coated foot
soldiers issue from the lane, and march towards the street.

These were Preston’s foot. Captain Preston was with them himself, but on
this occasion the regiment was commanded by Lord Forrester, who rode at
their head.

The men looked very well, and presented a very gallant appearance. They
were supported by two hundred and fifty dragoons, selected from five
different regiments, each party being commanded by a captain, and the
whole being commanded by Major Bland and Major Lawson.

Then came two regiments of dragoons under the command of Brigadier
Honeywood.

Casting a rapid glance along the street, Lord Forrester instantly saw
how matters stood, but ordered his men to attack the barricade, which
presented a very formidable appearance with the cannon mounted upon it,
and the troops collected behind it.

But the assailants had not advanced far, when such a terrible fire was
poured upon them from the barricade, and from the roofs and windows of
the houses, that they halted.

By this deadly discharge nearly fifty men were killed, or severely
wounded. Loud shouts arose from the defenders of the barricade, and
stifled the groans of the wounded.

The fire of the defenders were instantly returned by the assailants, but
with comparatively little effect.

Urged on by Lord Forrester and Captain Preston the assailants marched
on, but was checked by a second discharge quite as terrible as the
first, while the cannon being well directed by Tom Syddall and his men,
did great execution.

Thus much did the countess and Dorothy see, but they beheld no more. The
spectacle of that street, filled with dying and dead, was too much for
them, and they covered their eyes to shut out the dreadful sight.

“Shall I take you hence?” said Father Norham.

“Yes--yes!” cried the countess.

Casting one look at the barricade, and seeing that the earl was safe,
she instantly quitted the roof with the priest and Newbiggin. The other
ladies followed. The party did not venture into the street, but made
their way through the garden at the back of the house. As they were
speeding along, another discharge of musketry took place, accompanied by
the roar of the cannon.

At the same time distant firing was heard on the north side of the town,
showing that the attack had likewise begun in this quarter. A sergeant,
despatched by Captain Innes, made way for them through the crowded
street to the market-place.

No sooner had they reached the town-hall than the countess and Dorothy
withdrew to a private room, with the priest, and spent some time in
earnest devotions.



IV.--ALTERCATION BETWEEN FORSTER AND MACKINTOSH.

|Finding it impossible to force his men to attack the barricade in the
face of this incessant fire, Lord Forrester did not attempt any further
advance for the present, but retiring to the end of the street, where
he was sustained by the dismounted dragoons and Honeywood’s regiment,
directed Captain Preston to lead a party of men through a narrow passage
which he had observed to the back of the street, and, if possible, get
possession of Sir Henry Hoghton’s house.

Captain Preston at once obeyed the order, but on reaching a
thoroughfare, called the Broadway, at the back of the houses, he found
his advance checked by the small barrier commanded by Captain Wogan.
However, he unhesitatingly attacked it, but was repulsed.

While heading a second assault he was struck down by a shot, and would
have instantly been cut to pieces if Captain Wogan, at the hazard of
his own life, had not dashed to his assistance, and saved him from the
swords raised against him.

Having succeeded in bringing off his wounded foe, the generous Wogan
consigned him to the care of a surgeon. But all aid was unavailing.
Preston, than whom there was not a better or braver officer in the
king’s service, was dead.

Hitherto General Forster had taken no part in the defence, but during a
cessation of firing he rode up to the Churchgate battery, and called out
to Mackintosh in a loud authoritative tone.

“Brigadier! sally out at once with your Highlanders upon the enemy.”

“Na, na, general,” replied Mackintosh. “Were I to part my foot from the
horse they might be cut off.”

“I don’t see why that should be,” rejoined Forster. “But if you are of
the foot, sally out with the horse.”

“I cannot obey you, general,” replied the brigadier; “and for this
reason. In sallying out, as you suggest, the cavalry wad have to pass
through the fire of our ain foot to their great detriment; and if they
failed in the attempt, they would be unable to retreat, and thus the
Highlanders would be pent up in the town.”

“I don’t see the reason,” cried Forster, angrily; “but I perceive you
are resolved not to obey me.”

“I won’t sacrifice my men, general,” rejoined the brigadier.

“Then you will take the consequences, sir,” said Forster; “for, by
Heaven! if I survive this day, and the king comes to his own, I’ll have
you tried by a court-martial.”

Mackintosh shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.

Just then the firing recommenced, and Forester withdrew to vent his
anger elsewhere.

Learning that Mackintosh had stationed Captain Innes with a party of
Highlanders in Sir Henry Houghton’s house, he immediately removed them,
without alleging any reason for the step, and ordered Captain Maclean,
with a company of gentlemen volunteers, to take the post.



V.--HOW THE TWO LARGE HOUSES IN CHURCH-STREET WERE TAKEN BY THE
ASSAILANTS.

|During Forster’s altercation with the Brigadier, Lord Derwentwater
proceeded to the churchyard. He had now no fears respecting the countess
and Dorothy, for he knew they had reached the town-hall in safety.

Scarcely had he entered the churchyard, when he perceived Captain
Gordon, and calling him, said:

“You are the very man I want. Go instantly to the top of the
church-tower, and let me know the movements of the enemy.”

Captain Gordon obeyed, and as soon as he reached this exalted position
he looked carefully around.

We have already mentioned that the tower in question was singularly low,
but from its position it commanded an entire view of the operations.

From this post of observation Captain Gordon could see Brigadier
Honeywood with his regiment of dragoons stationed at the end of the
street, but he did not concern himself with them, his attention being
particularly attracted to the movements of Major Bland, with a large
party of dismounted dragoons, attacking the battery commanded by Lord
Charles Murray.

Lord Charles was defending himself vigorously and successfully, when
another party was seen approaching to attack him in the flank.

Thereupon Captain Gordon gave a signal to the Earl of Derwentwater, who
immediately put himself at the head of a hundred of his gentlemen and
hastened to Lord Charles’s assistance.

Suddenly appearing in the back lane, and flanking the enemy with a close
fire, the earl quickly put them to confusion and flight.

But, while retreating, the dragoons burst open the door at the back of
Sir Henry Hoghton’s garden, drove out Captain Maclean and the volunteers
placed there by General Forster, and took possession of the mansion.

Almost at the same time, the large house belonging to Mr. Eyre, on
the opposite side of the street, which had served as General Forster’s
head-quarters, fell into the hands of Brigadier Honeywood.

On observing this, Captain Gordon immediately descended from the church
tower, and sought out General Forster, whom he found near the entrance
to the marketplace, and told him what had happened.

“By the possession of these two houses, general,” he said, “the enemy
have secured most commanding positions, which will not only afford them
shelter from our fire, but enable them to do us great damage. They must
be retaken at any cost, but I would recommend as the shortest way that
both houses be demolished by our cannon.”

“I cannot consent to their destruction, sir,” replied Forster. “The body
of the town is the security of the army. We must dislodge the enemy--not
destroy the houses.”

“But do you not perceive, general, that by this course you are affording
security to the besiegers,” said Captain Gordon. “Reinforcements are
sure to arrive, and then we shall never be able to drive out the enemy.”

“At all events, the attempt shall be made before I have recourse to
cannon,” rejoined Forster. “Let both houses be attacked in front and
rear--but mind! cannon must not be used.”

Scarcely able to control his anger, Captain Gordon went away.

On his return, he found that a vigorous attempt was being made by Lord
Derwentwater to dislodge the enemy from Sir Henry Hoghton’s house, and a
sharp conflict was then going on in the garden.

An attempt was likewise being made to recover Mr. Eyre’s house by a
large party of dismounted troopers headed by Charles Radclyffe and
Captain Shaftoe.

Brigadier Mackintosh would have quickly knocked down both these houses,
but on learning that General Forster had positively prohibited the use
of cannon, he desisted.



VI.--HOUSES BURNT BY THE ASSAILANTS.

|WITH the exception of the loss sustained by the capture of these two
important houses, and which had been entirely caused by Forster’s gross
mismanagement, the insurgents had not only held their own, but obtained
decided advantages over the enemy.

Not one of the three batteries on the south side of the town, though
all had been repeatedly and vigorously attacked, had been taken. On the
contrary, in every instance, the assailants had been repulsed, and with
great loss. Neither by stratagem, nor direct assault, had any portion of
the king’s forces been able to penetrate into the town. All the damage
they had done was at the outskirts.

The church, which constituted the most important position on the south,
was entirely in the hands of the insurgents, and so trifling had been
the loss sustained by them, that it had not been necessary, as yet, to
call upon the reserves stationed in the market-place.

Of course, the brunt of the fight had been borne by Brigadier
Mackintosh, who had planned the able defence of the town, and had
stood as firm as a rock beside the barrier he had reared, but a most
courageous defence of the Fishergate barrier was made by Captain Douglas
and Captain Hunter, and their moss-troopers and Borderers.

Individual acts of valour were performed by these hardy fellows worthy
of another age. Not content with firing upon the assailants from
roof and window, they occasionally sallied forth, and then some
most desperate encounters took place between them and Colonel Pitt’s
dismounted dragoons. Captain Douglas, who was a very powerful man,
killed three dragoons with his own hand. In another sally Captain Hunter
and half a dozen men with him advanced too far, and, being completely
surrounded, must have been captured, or slain, had they not been rescued
at great personal risk by Captain Douglas.

Some barns and small habitations, at the end of the Fishergate Avenue,
occupied by the moss-troopers, were set fire to and burnt by Pitt’s men,
but no real damage was done.

At the same time several much larger houses were set on fire at the end
of Church Street by order of Brigadier Honeywood, so as to drive out
the Highlanders who occupied them, and compel them to take refuge in the
churchyard. Fortunately, the wind being in the north at the time,
the conflagration did not spread far. Had it blown from the opposite
quarter, and the wind been strong, the whole town would probably have
been destroyed. No efforts being made to extinguish the fires, the
houses continued burning for several hours, and long after it became
dark.



VII.--THE WINDMILL BARRICADE.

|We must now repair to the Windmill barricade, situated at the end of
the Lancaster Road, and commanded by Colonel Mackintosh, kinsman of the
brigadier.

Brigadier Dormer with three hundred dismounted dragoons attempted to
approach this barricade by a narrow street or lane called the Back Wynd,
but they were thwarted in their design by the vigilant Highlanders, who,
screened by garden walls, hedges, and ditches, killed nearly half their
number, and forced the rest to retreat.

A direct attack was then made on the barricade, but with no better
success. The Mackintoshes proved themselves splendid marksmen.

After a third ineffectual attack by a back road, during which he again
sustained considerable loss, Brigadier Dormer ordered Sergeant Johnstone
and Corporal Marlow, with a score of Stanhope’s dragoons, to set on
fife all the houses and out-buildings. While seeing the order executed
Brigadier Dormer was shot in the leg, the sergeant and corporal were
killed, and some of the men wounded, but the work of destruction
proceeded--and the houses and cottages were burnt close up to the
barricade.

But nothing was gained. The valiant Highland chief and his clansmen
laughed at the futile attempts to drive them from their post.

Having thus taken a survey of the defences of the town, it will be seen
that they were all intact, and able to hold out But the besiegers were
under the impression that the insurgents would attempt to cut their
way out during the night. Accordingly, the Lancaster Avenue was very
strongly guarded.

An express had been sent by Sir Henry Hoghton to General Carpenter, who
had reached Clitheroe, to inform him that hostilities had commenced,
and it was therefore certain he would arrive next day. Should this
news reach the rebels, it would quicken their desire to escape, and it
behoved the besiegers to be doubly vigilant--especially on the north
side of the town, where the exit was most likely to be made.

Several hundreds of the king’s troops, as we have stated, had been shot
down in the ineffectual attacks on the barriers. Among the wounded were
Major Bland and Major Lawson, and, as we have just mentioned, Brigadier
Dormer was slightly hurt.

Captain Preston expired as he was being conveyed to the White Bull,
where all the wounded insurgents were taken. At this place died Colonel
Brereton, Mr. Clifton, and two or three others whose names are not
recorded.

When Captain Peter Farquharson, of Rochaley, whose leg had been badly
shattered by a bullet, was brought in by half a dozen Highlanders, and
laid down on a bench, he called for brandy for the men, and taking a
glass himself, said:

“Come, lads, here’s to our master’s health! I can fight no longer, but I
wish you success.”

With mingled feelings was the health drunk.

Alas! this gallant officer died under the operation, which was
unskilfully performed.



VIII.--HOW THE TWO LARGE HOUSES WERE ILLUMINATED.

|Until it grew dark, platoon-firing constantly took place from the two
large houses captured by the besiegers. When night came on, the firing
of course ceased, though even then occasional shots were heard.

At all the barriers the men rested on their arms, the strictest watch
being kept to prevent surprise. The churchyard was still filled with
troops.

A strange and terrible light was afforded by the still burning houses,
and as these fires were not confined to one quarter, but could be seen
at different points, it appeared as if the whole town was burning.
The red reflection of the fire in the adjacent street on the tower and
windows of the church produced a very striking effect.

After awhile, Brigadier Honeywood caused the windows of the two
large mansions, just mentioned, to be brilliantly lighted up, and the
illumination revealed every person in the street, and exposed them to
the musketeers; but he soon found this told against himself, for the
marksmen were quickly discovered and driven from their position, while
the windows were broken by showers of bullets.

In the evening a council of war was held at the Mitre, but nothing was
determined upon, except that a vigilant watch should be kept throughout
the night, and a determined defence maintained on the morrow.

General Forster took very little part in the discussion, and complained
bitterly that Brigadier Mackintosh had disobeyed his orders.

“I suppose it was through my fault, general, that the two large houses
in Church Street were lost?” remarked the brigadier.

“Undoubtedly,” replied Forster.

“Well, then, I’ll repair my fault,” said Mackintosh; “for as I’m
a living man, I’ll demolish them baith, or burn them to the ground
to-morrow.”

“In defiance of my orders?” cried Forster.

“In defiance of anybody’s orders,” rejoined Mackintosh.

“Let us have no disputes, I pray,” interposed Lord Widdrington. “We have
every reason to be satisfied with the result of the day.”

“So confident am I of success,” said Mackintosh, “that I am about to
write to the Earl of Mar that I expect to gain a victory over General
Wills to-morrow. A battle is imminent between his lordship and the Duke
of Argyle, and may possibly take place to-morrow. If so, and success
should attend our arms both at Stirling and Preston, the Jacobite cause
must be triumphant.”

“Heaven grant it may!” cried several voices.

After a little further discourse, the council broke up, some proceeding
to an adjoining room where supper was laid out, and others returning to
their posts.

Only three persons were left in the room. These were Lord Derwentwater,
General Forster, and Captain Douglas.

The earl had told the others that he wished to confer with them.

“I trust all will go well to-morrow,” he said; “indeed, I do not doubt
it. Still I feel the greatest anxiety respecting the countess.”

“I do not wonder at it, my lord,” remarked Forster. “I am just as
anxious about my sister. Would we could get them both safely out of the
town--but I fear it is impossible to do so now, since all the avenues
are guarded.”

“I will insure their escape from the Fishergate barrier, of which I have
the command,” said Captain Douglas.

“But the attempt must not be made before midnight. By crossing the ford,
they will be able to gain the Liverpool road. Will the ladies be alone?”

“They will be attended by my chaplain, Father Nor-ham, and my butler,
Newbiggin,” replied Lord Derwent’ water. “I shall not send my grooms
with them, unless General Forster desires it.”

“No, no!” cried Forster. “The fewer the better.”

“Of course, the party will be on horseback?” said Douglas. “I will
conduct them to the ford--but there I must leave them.”

“That will suffice,” said the earl. “And I shall be eternally obliged to
you for the service.”

“And so shall I,” said Forster.

“At midnight, then, I should be fully prepared,” said Douglas.

With this, he and Forster joined the others at supper in the next room,
while Lord Derwentwater proceeded to the town-hall.

When they were informed of the arrangements made for their flight, the
countess and Dorothy seemed dissatisfied rather than pleased, but the
earl was quite resolved upon their departure.

“There is no telling what the morrow may bring forth,” he said. “And
if fortune should prove adverse, I should bitterly reproach myself for
allowing you to remain. Go you must.”

All arrangements having been made, Dorothy retired, and the earl and
countess were left alone together.

For some minutes they both remained silent. The earl then spoke:

“I hope we may meet again at Dilston as in former days,” he said. “But
I have great misgivings. Tomorrow will decide. We shall then either be
victorious, or utterly defeated, and prisoners, for we are shut up in
this town. In the latter event I well know what my fate will be, and
I confess that I cannot shake off a dread presentiment that it will
happen.”

“Do not thus be despondent, my dear lord,” said the countess. “To me
everything seems to look well.”

“Not so,” he replied. “We have one great danger. Should General
Carpenter arrive before we have beaten Wills, we are lost. Had a victory
been gained to-day--as it might and would have been had we not been
thwarted by Forster--all would have been well. But now we must trust to
chance. I will not say that Forster has betrayed us, but he has been
excessively indiscreet in confiding his secrets to Mrs. Scarisbrick.”

“Then you think Mrs. Scarisbrick has given secret intelligence to the
enemy?”

“I am almost sure of it,” replied the earl. “But let us not trouble our
parting with gloomy anticipations.”

They then endeavoured to talk cheerfully, but the effort was in vain,
and it was almost a relief to both of them when Father Norham entered.

He had just heard from Dorothy of their proposed flight, and came to
inquire further about it.

“Has your lordship any instructions to give me?” he said.

“None whatever,” replied the earl. “I know you will ever watch over the
countess during my absence--and if aught happens, console her.”

“I will teach her how to bear her affliction,” replied the priest.
“Perchance this may be your last interview,” he added, looking steadily
at the countess. “Have you aught to communicate to your husband?”

“We have never had any secrets from each other, good father,” said the
earl. “Is it not so, sweetheart?”

The countess made no reply.

A slight pause ensued, after which the earl said:

“Am I to understand you _have_ a secret from me?” Another pause ensued,
which was broken by the countess.

“Tell him all, father,” she cried. “I cannot.”

“What is this?” exclaimed the earl, astonished, and looking at the
priest for an explanation. “What have you to tell me?”

“Speak! daughter!” cried Father Norham, imperiously. “The secret must be
told.”

“Keep me not in suspense!” cried the earl, looking at her.

“You will think me very deceitful when I tell you that my heart was not
wholly yours when I wedded you,” she replied.

“Not wholly mine!” he exclaimed in a tone of suppressed fury. “Who then
was my rival?”

“The prince,” she replied.

“The prince!” he exclaimed, with a sudden burst of rage. “Since he was
capable of this perfidy, I renounce him--I throw off my allegiance--I
will break the sword I have borne for him----”

“Hear me, my lord,” she cried, clinging to him.

“Away!” he exclaimed, casting her from him. “How fondly I have loved
you, you well know, but now you are hateful to me. Never let me behold
you more!”

“Hold! my lord,” interposed Father Norham, in a tone of authority which
the earl could not resist. “There must be no misunderstanding between
you and the countess. By my counsel she has made this confession to you,
because the secret has long weighed upon her heart, and because you
may never meet again in this world. Listen to me, my lord. The love
conceived by the countess for the prince was simply an ardent feeling of
loyalty, carried, perchance, to excess; but in no way culpable. If the
prince’s image was placed above your own in her breast, you need feel
no jealousy. Nor can the prince be blamed, for word of love never passed
his lips--nor was he aware of the passion he inspired.”

“Is this so?” cried the earl.

“It is so,” she replied. “I ought to have told you all this long
ago--but hesitated from a silly fear, till my heart had become so
burdened that I dared not speak. But now I felt that the confession must
not be delayed, or it might never be made. Can you forgive me?”

“Come to my heart!” he cried, straining her to his breast.



IX.--THE FORD.

|Midnight had come.

Very dark was the night, and favourable to the purpose of those who
sought to fly from the beleaguered town. The fires in the burning houses
were nearly extinguished, but the course of the conflagration could
still be traced by a red glow along the street.

The two large houses, now in the hands of the king’s forces, were no
longer illuminated, but looked sombre and threatening--the approaches to
them in front and at the rear being strongly guarded.

The church-tower could be indistinctly seen in the gloom, and a close
survey of the churchyard would have shown that it was filled with troops
who were resting on their arms, to be ready for action at break of day.

The barrier in this quarter was strongly guarded by the Highlanders,
many of whom were lying on their plaids beside the trenches while their
comrades kept watch.

Throughout the town it was the same thing.

At the Windmill battery, where Wynn’s and Pitt’s regiments were posted,
so as completely to block up the Lancaster-road, and prevent all chance
of escape in that direction, the brave Clan Chattan were gathered--most
of them lying on the ground, but ready to spring to their feet on the
slightest alarm.

The barrier commanded by Lord Charles Murray was likewise strongly
guarded, and by a vigilant force--this being a position exposed to much
peril.

As to the Fishergate barricade, it was better watched by the defenders
than by the enemy.

Strange to say, the outlet connected with this battery, and which led
to a lane communicating with a ford over the Ribble, was not blocked up
like the other avenues.

Three squadrons of horse belonging to Brigadier Pitt were posted at
intervals in the fields on the north side of the river--Pitt’s own
quarters being fixed at a large farmhouse on the rise of the hill--but
the lane we have mentioned had been left unguarded.

This unaccountable piece of negligence had been accidentally discovered
by Captain Douglas, while reconnoitring the road. Still, he had not
ventured more than a quarter of a mile.

Midnight had just tolled, and the besieged town presented the appearance
we have endeavoured to describe, when the Countess of Derwentwater
embraced her lord, and with his aid mounted the steed that was waiting
for her outside the Fishergate barrier.

“Farewell, my best beloved!” cried the earl. “Farewell! it may be for
ever. To-morrow will decide my fate. Should the worst happen, be sure my
last thought will be of you.”

“Farewell, my dearest lord!” she cried. “I will not say for ever! for I
am certain we shall meet again!”

Dorothy was already on horseback, and beside her was Charles Radclyffe,
who was resolved to see them safely across the ford.

We have already mentioned that since Dorothy’s arrival in Preston,
Charles had fallen desperately in love with her; but, owing to
circumstances, they had been little together, and now they were
compelled to part. However, they did not despair of an early meeting.

In attendance on the ladies were Father Norham and Newbiggin, both of
whom were well mounted.

As the conductor of the party, Captain Douglas rode a little in
advance--but the countess was not far behind him.

Almost instantly the party disappeared in the gloom, and then the earl
listened intently for any sounds that might tell how they got on; but
nothing to occasion alarm being heard, after waiting for a few minutes,
he retired--though with a sad heart.

Meanwhile, the party proceeded in the order described, and in silence.
If a word was exchanged by Charles Radclyffe, it reached no other ears
but their own.

No interruption was offered as they rode down the narrow lane, and even
a gate that led to a field skirting the river seemed left purposely
open.

Here Captain Douglas rode alone to reconnoitre, but returned almost
immediately to say that the way was clear.

During his brief absence, the countess cast a look back at the hill, and
could just distinguish the dark outline of the town. Here and there, it
could be seen from the reflection that a house was still burning.

As they advanced, a slight glimmer showed that the river was close at
hand.

Before descending the bank, Captain Douglas took hold of the countess’s
bridle, and then led her horse cautiously into the water.

His example was followed by Charles Radclyffe, and the two ladies were
soon crossing the ford.

Evidently the river was not very deep at this point, and there seemed
nothing to occasion uneasiness, when the figure of a man armed with a
musket could be suddenly descried on the opposite bank.

As will be surmised, this was no other than Parson Woods of Chowbent,
who had undertaken to watch the ford.

“Stop!” he shouted in a loud voice, “you cannot pass here. Attempt to
advance further, and I shall fire upon you.”

“Look to yourself, friend,” rejoined Captain Douglas. “Retire at once,
or I will send a bullet through your head.”

And drawing a pistol, he prepared to execute his threat.

“Hold!” said the countess. “He will let us pass, when he knows we are
ladies.”

“I don’t know that,” said Parson Woods. “Who are you?”

“Make way for the Countess of Derwentwater and Miss Forster,” cried
Captain Douglas, thinking to overawe him.

Precisely the contrary effect was produced.

No sooner did Parson Woods hear those important names than he called to
his men who were concealed by the bank behind him:

“Arise, and follow me! Heaven has delivered into our hands the wife and
sister of the principal rebels! Come with me, I say, that we may prevent
the flight of the Countess of Derwentwater and Miss Forster.”

So saying, he dashed into the river, followed by his men, and though
Captain Douglas fired at him, he was not harmed, but seized the
countess’s bridle, and detained her; while Dorothy was captured in like
manner by some of his men, despite Charles Radclyffe’s resistance.

What might have ensued it is impossible to say, since Captain Douglas
and his companion were compelled to beat a hasty retreat by the sudden
appearance of a party of Pitt’s dragoons.

Father Norham and Newbiggin offered no resistance, and were captured
with the ladies.



X.--BY WHOM THE COUNTESS AND DOROTHY WERE LIBERATED.

|The leader of the troop seemed an important personage, since he was
treated with marked deference by Parson Woods. After putting a few
questions in an undertone to the minister, he turned to the ladies, and
said:

“Am I to understand that I am addressing Lady Derwent water and Miss
Forster?”

“You are, sir,” replied the countess. “And if you are satisfied on the
point, I presume we shall not be detained?”

The officer made no direct reply, but said rather bluntly:

“Who are these persons with you?”

“One is Lord Derwentwater’s chaplain,” replied the countess. “The other
is a private servant.”

“Your ladyship must excuse me if I appear inquisitive, but I am obliged
to ask where you are going?” said the officer. “Moreover, I must request
a precise answer to the inquiry.”

“It is not my habit to equivocate, sir,” replied she. “My destination is
Dilston, and if we are allowed to proceed, Miss Forster will accompany
me.”

“I presume your ladyship thinks Preston unsafe, or you would not quit it
in this manner?” remarked the officer.

Lady Derwentwater made no reply.

“That question ought not to have been put,” said

Dorothy. “We are not called upon to explain the cause of our departure.”

“But when General Forster’s sister flies, it may be presumed that the
place is not likely to hold out long,” remarked the officer.

“You may draw any inference you please,” rejoined Dorothy. “My own
opinion is that General Wills will be driven away to-morrow. He has
certainly had the worst of it to-day.”

“Then you will have an opportunity of witnessing his defeat,” said the
officer; “for I propose to send you back to the town. Parson Woods,” he
added to the minister, “since you have made this important capture, you
shall conduct the ladies to the Fishergate avenue. I will send a party
of horse to sustain you.”

“I don’t require support, general,” said the minister.

“General!” exclaimed the countess. “Is it possible we are speaking to
General Wills?”

“Has your ladyship only just made that discovery?” cried Parson Woods,
laughing.

“I suspected it from the first,” observed Dorothy.

“You can tell your brother, the general, that you have had a conference
with me,” said Wills; “and that you told me to my face that I should be
defeated on the morrow.”

“I told you the truth, general, however disagreeable it may be to hear
it,” said Dorothy.

“Well, time will show,” rejoined Wills; “but I rather think that before
to-morrow night General Forster will have surrendered, and in that event
the Earl of Derwentwater will be given up as a hostage.”

Just then a horseman, who proved to be Sir Henry Hoghton, rode up,
having with him a lady on horseback.

“I am glad I have found you, general,” said Sir Henry. “This lady has
something important to communicate to you.”

“Pray come this way, madam,” said Wills, taking the lady aside.

Thereupon, a whispered conversation took place between them.

“I know that voice,” observed the countess to Dorothy. “But surely it
cannot be----

“It is Mrs. Scarisbrick,” was the reply in a low tone. “I always thought
she played my brother false. Now we have positive proof of it. She has
come to give information respecting the state of the town.”

Dorothy was quite right in the conjecture.

When the conference between Wills and Mrs. Scarisbrick was ended, and
the lady found that the countess and Dorothy were close at hand, she
became very uneasy, and begged General Wills to set them free.

“If they go back, I cannot,” she observed. “They will tell General
Forster they have seen me here, and what explanation can I give him?”

“It matters little now what explanation is given,” replied Wills. “But
you shall not be exposed to any annoyance. You must be on the spot.
To-morrow, you are certain to have important information to give me.”

“I will not fail,” she replied.

General Wills then called to Sir Henry, and after consigning Mrs.
Scarisbrick to his care turned to Parson Woods, who was waiting for
final orders, and said:

“I have altered my plans, parson. Take Lady Der-wentwater and Miss
Forster with their attendants across the river, and then set them free.”

“It shall be done, general,” replied Woods, with a military salute. “Be
pleased to follow me, ladies.”

He was not quite so civil to Father Norham and New-biggin.

“I hope we are not liberated at that lady’s request,” said the countess.
“I would not willingly be under any obligation to her.”

“You need not be uneasy,” said Wills. “You are under no obligation
to any one but me. Good-night, ladies. I wish you a safe journey to
Dilston. When I tell you that General Carpenter will be here with two
thousand men to-morrow, you may be glad to be out of the way.”

He rode off, while the ladies and their companions were taken across the
ford by Parson Woods, and then liberated.



XI.--AN UNLUCKY SHOT.

|After their unsuccessful attempt to cross the ford, Charles Radclyffe
and Captain Douglas did not return to the town, but concealed themselves
among some trees till they had ascertained that the countess and Dorothy
were to be liberated. They then went back tolerably well satisfied with
the issue of the adventure.

As they were riding slowly up the lane leading to the Fishergate avenue,
they caught the sound of horses’ feet behind them, and stopped to
listen.

It was so dark that nothing could be seen distinctly, but they heard
voices, and Captain Douglas drew a pistol and called out, “Who goes
there?”

“A friend,” replied a voice.

“To whom?” demanded Douglas. “To King James, or King George.”

“I am no rebel,” replied the person who had spoken. “But it seems you
are, and I am therefore bound to make you a prisoner. It will be useless
to resist, for I have a dozen men with me.”

“I would not yield if you had twice the number,” rejoined Douglas.
“Advance a step further, and I will shoot you.”

“Let him go, Sir Henry,” cried a female voice.

“‘Tis Sir Henry Hoghton,” said Charles Radclyffe.

“So it seems,” said Douglas. “Come, Sir Henry,” he cried. “‘Tis for you
to yield--not me.”

“This is my answer,” replied Sir Henry, firing at him, but without
effect.

“And this my rejoinder,” cried Douglas, firing in his turn.

A shriek followed.

“What have I done?” cried Douglas.

“Wounded a lady,” replied Sir Henry. “Are you much hurt, madam?” he
asked.

“Mortally, I fear,” she replied, in a faint voice. “Support me, or I
shall fall from my horse.”

“‘Tis Mrs. Scarisbrick!” cried Charles Radclyffe.

END OF BOOK EIGHT



_BOOK THE NINTH_

[Illustration: 0262]



I.--HOW A PARTY OF DRAGOONS WAS ROUTED BY CAPTAIN GORDON.

|As soon as it began to grow light next morning, Captain Gordon mounted
the church-tower to survey the town.

All seemed quiet--besieged and defenders. The Highlanders were still
lying stretched on their plaids near the barricade; but the greater
part of the troops, who did not possess the hardihood of the Scots,
had quitted the churchyard, and sought shelter in some of the adjacent
houses.

No signs of movement were visible in the two large houses in possession
of the enemy; but the sentinels were at their posts, and no doubt the
men could be summoned instantly to arms.

The street presented a ghastly sight--the dead not having been removed,
and the ground being covered with blood.

Turning from this painful spectacle he surveyed the fields outside
the town, but could not perceive that any change had been made in the
disposition of the enemy.

A mist arose from the marshy ground in the neighbourhood of the river,
and partially concealed the militia stationed near the bridge, but the
two squadrons of Pitt’s dragoons could be distinguished in the fields.

Whatever might be the design of the enemy, it seemed to Captain Gordon
that no immediate attack was intended.

But while he continued his survey, and carefully reconnoitred the
outskirts of the town, he perceived some dismounted dragoons creeping
along the Wigan lane towards the town.

Watching them carefully for a few minutes, during which it got lighter,
he found their numbers increase, and became convinced that they were the
head of a large party.

He therefore quickly descended from the tower, and gave the alarm to
Brigadier Mackintosh, whom he found at his post, and who ordered him to
proceed at once to the Fishergate barrier--the only outlet not blocked
up--and take a troop of horse and attack them.

Captain Gordon instantly obeyed--nor was he detained at the barrier in
question.

Fifty stout Borderers, who were sleeping beside their steeds, bridle
in hand, were quickly in the saddle. A horse was found for him, and the
party sallied forth.

The Wigan lane was about a quarter of a mile off, and to reach it they
had to cross the field on the south side of the town. They got there
just as the dragoons had quitted the lane, but had not formed, and
immediately charged them--throwing them into confusion by the suddenness
of the attack.

The conflict only lasted for a few minutes, and ended in the complete
rout of the dragoons, several of whom were killed, including the
captain. Very little loss was sustained by the insurgents.

Quite surprised with what he had done, and fearing his retreat might be
cut off if he attempted pursuit, Captain Gordon galloped back as hard as
he could to the Fishergate avenue.

He was only just in time. The encounter had been witnessed by the two
squadrons of Pitt’s dragoons stationed near the river, and they both
endeavoured to intercept him, but he and the Borderers were safe behind
the barriers before either could come up.

Captain Gordon gained great credit by this achievement, which was one of
the last performed by the insurgents.



II. MEETING OF CARPENTER AND WILLS.

|Preparations were made by the insurgent leaders at all the barricades
for a renewal of hostilities, and Brigadier Mackintosh had just given
orders to Tom Syddall to commence the demolition of the two large
houses in Church-street, when word was brought that a very large force,
consisting of more than two thousand horse, could be seen approaching
from the north.

No doubt could be entertained that this force belonged to General
Carpenter, who must have made an early march from Clitheroe in order to
effect a junction with Wills before the attack was resumed.

All was now consternation among the besieged, who felt that some
immediate step must be taken, or they would be shut in.

Colonel Mackintosh proposed to sally forth with his men, and consulted
the brigadier, who dissuaded him from the attempt, declaring it
impracticable.

As usual, General Forster was completely undecided.

Half an hour later, General Carpenter arrived, and took up a position on
the north side of the town. He was accompanied by the Earl of Carlisle
and Lord Lumley, and rode at the head of Churchill’s, Molesworth’s, and
Cobham’s dragoons.

With these were several regiments of horse, making a total of two
thousand five hundred men.

No wonder such an accession of force should have utterly extinguished
the hopes of the insurgents.

Immediately on his arrival, General Carpenter rode up an eminence, and
was looking at the Windmill barricade, when a shot fired from the cannon
planted on that barrier fell very near him, and caused him to shift his
position.

While he was giving some directions to Colonel Churchill, General Wills
rode up, attended by Colonel Pitt, and expressed his satisfaction at
seeing him.

“In resigning the command of the force to you, general,” he said,
“I hope you will approve of the manner in which I have conducted the
operations of the siege. Even if I had not had the advantage of your
assistance, I doubt not that I should have been able to conclude the
affair to-day. The rebels, I am bound to say, have fought very bravely,
and have made a very gallant defence, especially the Highlanders; but
I have determined, at any cost, to take the barricade commanded by
Brigadier Mackintosh, and then they must surrender.”

“You have done very well, general,” replied Carpenter. “Nothing could be
better. Retain your command. I will not deprive you of the victory you
have so nearly achieved.”

“I thank you, general, and am proud to receive your commendation,”
 replied Wills. “But I bow to your experience, and any suggestions you
may offer shall be immediately adopted. Before the decisive attack is
made, I should wish you to survey the town.”

“I propose to do so,” replied Carpenter.

Having posted six squadrons of dragoons under the command of Colonel
Churchill to prevent any attempt at flight from the Windmill barricade,
General Carpenter rode down towards the south side of the town with
Wills.

They were attended by a strong guard, and accompanied by the two
noblemen previously mentioned. On the way they met Sir Henry Hoghton
with a party of militia, and while General Carpenter was conversing with
Sir Henry, Parson Woods and a dozen of his men came up from the ford,
with some fugitive insurgents, whom they had just captured.

Learning from Woods that constant escapes were taking place from the
Fishergate avenue, General Carpenter gave orders that the outlet should
be effectually blocked up without delay, so as not only to check any
further flight, but prevent supplies of provisions from being brought
in.

Finding that the entrance to the Churchgate avenue was inconveniently
crowded, so that the troops could not act, Carpenter made a different
disposition of the troops; and deeming it probable that a most
determined attempt at escape might be made from the north of the town,
he caused this outlet to be still more strongly guarded.

When all these orders had been executed, and every outlet was blocked
up, the two generals divided their forces, and completely surrounded the
town.



III.--GENERAL FORSTER WISHES TO CAPITULATE.

|From his post on the church-tower, Captain Gordon had witnessed these
proceedings and reported them to Brigadier Mackintosh.

Though not disheartened, the brave old Highlander felt that the
situation was one of the utmost peril, and could perceive only one way
of extricating himself from it, but this he was unwilling to adopt,
unless joined by his English allies, and he felt sure that Forster had
not resolution enough for such a course of action.

His men, however, could hardly be restrained. No sooner did they
discover that they were pent up in the town, than they wished to sally
forth, sword in hand, and cut their way through the enemy.

The brigadier told them it was too soon--that they must wait till
night--and if nothing happened in the interim, he would lead them forth.

Colonel Mackintosh’s men were equally impatient, and though they saw the
squadrons of dragoons posted near the Lancaster avenue, they would have
attempted to cut a passage through them, if allowed.

Meanwhile a conference took place at the Mitre between General Forster,
the Earl of Derwentwater, Lord Wid-drington, and Colonel Oxburgh.

As it was now evident that the town was completely blocked up, and could
not hold out long, it was necessary that some terms of surrender should
immediately be made.

Lord Derwentwater recommended that a council of war should be called at
once, at which all the Scottish leaders should assist, but Forster would
not accede to the proposition.

“If Mackintosh and the rest are consulted, we shall never be able to
make good terms with Carpenter and Wills,” said Forster. “Let them treat
for themselves.”

“But it will not be fair to treat without them,” observed the earl.

“Nothing whatever will be done, if Mackintosh is consulted,” said Lord
Widdrington. “Our estates I fear will be confiscated, but we must make
an effort to save our lives.”

“I fear the attempt will be useless,” said Lord Derwent-water. “And I
would die rather than do aught dishonourable.”

“There is nothing dishonourble in what I propose,” said Forster; “but I
feel certain the Scots will never consent to a surrender.”

“Yes, they would consider themselves degraded by such submission,” said
Lord Denventwater.

“If they choose to throw away their lives they must do so,” said Lord
Widdrington. “But do not let us act thus rashly.”

“I am acquainted with General Wills,” said Colonel Oxburgh, “and if you
desire it, I will propose a treaty to him. Rest assured, I will assent
to no disgraceful terms.”

Lord Derwentwater was still very unwilling that the step should be taken
without consulting Brigadier Mackintosh, but he yielded at last to the
representations of Lord Widdrington and Forster.



IV.--COLONEL OXBURGH PROPOSES TERMS OF SURRENDER TO WILLS.

|About half an hour later, Colonel Oxburgh, preceded by a trumpeter on
horseback, rode out of the Fishergate.

He was immediately stopped by the guard, but on explaining his errand,
was conducted by a sergeant and two dragoons to Wills’s tent, which was
about a quarter of a mile off.

General Wills was seated at a small table in the centre of the tent,
when Colonel Oxburgh was announced by a sentinel.

Wills raised his head, and looking at him very sternly, demanded his
business.

“You will guess it without difficulty, I think, general,” replied
Oxburgh. “I am come to propose that the insurgent force shall lay down
their arms in the confident expectation that you will recommend them for
pardon to the king.”

“Entertain no such expectation, sir,” rejoined Wills still more sternly.
“I will not treat with rebels. Those for whom you plead have killed many
of the king’s subjects, and deserve death.”

“But since they are willing to submit, general, I hope that
consideration may be shown them,” said Oxburgh.

“Expect none from me, sir,” rejoined Wills, harshly. “Clemency is thrown
away on rebels. Go back to those who sent you. Tell them, if they lay
down their arms, and submit themselves prisoners at discretion, I will
prevent my soldiers from cutting them to pieces, and spare their lives
till his majesty’s pleasure is known. That is all I will promise.”

“Do you require an immediate decision, general?”

“I will give you an hour--no more,” replied Wills.

“I am greatly disappointed, general,” said Colonel Oxburgh. “I expected
very different terms from you.”

“I have already told you that I will make no terms with rebels such as
you,” rejoined Wills. “If you are not satisfied, return to the town,
and an hour hence--to the minute--I will attack you, and put you to the
sword.”

“Do you mean me to understand, general,” said Oxburgh, looking at him
steadfastly, “that King George will show us no mercy?”

“I do not say that,” replied Wills. “Nor do I hold out any promise. Your
best chance of obtaining mercy is by surrendering yourselves prisoners
at discretion.”

Finding nothing more could be obtained, Colonel Oxburgh departed.



V.--CAPTAIN DALZIEL HAS A CONFERENCE WITH WILLS.

|Inquiring glances were thrown at the envoy as he rode through the
Fishergate barricade, but he went on till he was stopped by Brigadier
Mackintosh, who said to him in a fierce voice:

“What means this cessation of arms? Why have you quitted the town? You
have been sent by Forster to propose a treaty for capitulation--and
without privity or concurrence of the Scots.”

“General Forster has betrayed us--has sold us!” cried several
Highlanders. “We will shoot him.”

“No treaty has been agreed upon,” cried Oxburgh in a loud voice, so that
all might hear. “I have seen General Wills, who demands an unconditional
surrender from all--Scotsmen as well as Englishmen. An hour is granted
for consideration--but a fourth part of the time has already expired,”
 he added, consulting his watch.

“What say you, my men?” cried Mackintosh. “Will you surrender?”

“Never!” they cried. “We will die sword in hand.”

“I warn you that no quarter will be given,” said Oxburgh.

“We will neither give nor take quarter,” cried the Highlanders. “We will
show the Southrons how brave men can die.”

“Then I am to understand, brigadier, that you utterly refuse the terms?”
 said Oxburgh.

“Utterly!” replied Mackintosh.

Just then General Forster was seen coming along on horseback,
accompanied by the Earl of Derwentwater and Lord Widdrington.

Fearing some mischief might happen in the present infuriated state
of the Highlanders, Oxburgh signed to the general to go back, and
the brigadier also called to his men energetically to keep quiet, but
despite the interdiction, several shots were fired.

Fortunately Forster escaped, but he would not expose himself further.
Turning round he galloped back towards the market-place, followed more
deliberately by the two noblemen.

Immediately afterwards, the Earl of Nithsdale, the Earl of Wintoun, the
Earl of Carnwath, and his brother Captain Dalziel, rode up to the spot,
and stopping Colonel Oxburgh, who was about to depart, demanded an
explanation.

“We have been betrayed by Forster--that is all that can be told,” cried
Mackintosh, scornfully.

“General Forster is no traitor, my lords,” said Oxburgh, firmly. “I have
just seen Wills, who refuses to make any treaty with us, and insists
that we shall lay down our arms. Our answer must be given within an
hour, and but little of it now remains.”

“We have had no time for deliberation,” said Lord Carnwath.

“Perchance, if you go to General Wills in person, my lords, you may
obtain some further respite,” said Oxburgh. “I can obtain nothing.”

“Shall I go as representative of the Scottish forces?” said Captain
Dalziel.

“Go at once, or it will be too late. You have not many minutes left,”
 said Oxburgh.

“Do you agree to the step, brigadier?” asked Captain Dalziel.

“Act as those desire who have more to lose than I have,” said
Mackintosh.

“Then go,” cried the three Scottish nobles.

Thereupon, Captain Dalziel rode forth, and preceded by the same
trumpeter who had attended Colonel Oxburgh, made all haste to General
Wills’s tent.

A conference was granted him.

“Are you aware of the terms I have offered to Colonel Oxburgh?” said
Wills. “They apply to the whole rebel army--English and Scots. I can
make no distinction.”

“But the Scottish chiefs whom I represent, request some further
time--say till seven o’clock to-morrow morning--to consult as to the
best mode of delivering up our forces. It will not be an easy matter.”

“If you find it difficult, leave it to me,” said Wills, with a stern
smile. “I cannot grant the delay you request without consulting General
Carpenter--but you shall hear from me.”

And with a haughty bow he dismissed him.



VI.--HOW FORSTER LEARNT THAT HE HAD BEEN BETRAYED.

|After riding away from the exasperated Highlanders, Forster alighted
at the town-hall, and meeting Charles Radclyffe and Captain Shaftoe told
them what had happened.

“I believe Brigadier Mackintosh has ordered his Highlanders to shoot
me,” he said. “My life will not be safe.”

“Do not think it, general,” rejoined Charles Radclyffe. “The brigadier
is incapable of such an act. But you had better not expose yourself
while the negotiation for the surrender is going on.”

“I shall take care not to do so,” he replied. “I shall remain here for
an hour. I want to see Mrs. Scarisbrick.”

“Mrs. Scarisbrick!” exclaimed Charles Radclyffe. “Have you not heard?”

“Heard what?” exclaimed Forster, looking at him in surprise. “I have
heard nothing. I have not seen her this morning. I expected to find her
here.”

“She is here,” said Charles Radclyffe. “But I cannot explain. Come with
me and you shall know all.”

Not without a strange misgiving did Forster follow him along a passage
on the ground floor, at a door in which an elderly female was stationed.

“Here you will find her,” said Charles Radclyffe, in a strangely
significant tone.

“Impossible!” cried Forster.

“Yes, general, she is here,” remarked the old woman, opening the door.
“She has not been disturbed.”

The room was darkened, but there was light enough to discern a very
startling object.

It was the dead body of a very beautiful woman lying extended upon a
couch.

Her habiliments were those in which she had died, and her profuse
golden tresses were unbound, and scattered over her bosom where she had
received the deadly hurt.

Giving utterance to a cry, Forster rushed forward, and seizing her hand
pressed it to his lips.

“This completes my misery,” he cried. “In losing her I have lost all
that was dear to me, and I care not how soon I follow.”

“She deserved her fate,” said Charles Raclyffe. “She betrayed you and us
to the enemy. She was accidentally shot last night, while returning
from a secret visit to General Wills. I brought her here myself. I
found letters upon her which prove her guilt. I intended to conceal this
catastrophe from you--but it is better you should know it.”

“You affirm the truth of what you have just stated?” demanded Forster.

“In every particular,” rejoined Charles Radclyffe. “You were completely
duped by her.”

Forster dropped the hand he had hitherto held, and without a word
quitted the room.



VII.--COLONEL COTTON.

|In the afternoon of the same day, General Forster, Lord Derwentwater,
Brigadier Mackintosh, and all the rebel lords and leaders were assembled
at the Mitre, engaged in a very angry discussion, when a chamade beaten
at the door, produced a sudden quietude, and a tall, fine-looking
officer in the accoutrements of the king’s dragoons came into the room,
being announced by the sentinel as Colonel Cotton.

All bowed as he advanced towards the centre of the room, when looking
round, he said courteously:

“You will guess my errand, my lords and gentlemen. I am sent by General
Wills to receive your positive answer to his proposition.”

“We are unable to send a precise answer to General Wills,” said the
Earl of Derwentwater, “because the Scots are unwilling to capitulate.
Brigadier Mackintosh and the Scottish nobles will tell you that this is
the case.”

“My men absolutely refuse to lay down their arms,” said the brigadier,
“and it is the same with the Clan Chattan, commanded by my kinsman,
Colonel Mackintosh.”

“Perhaps, by to-morrow morning, we may bring them to reason,” said Lord
Kenmure. “Just now, it is impossible.”

“I will report what you tell me to General Wills,” said Cotton.

As he was about to depart, word was brought that the drummer had been
shot while beating a chamade before a house, whence firing had taken
place subsequent to the cessation of arms.

This unlucky incident seemed likely to put an end to the negotiation,
but it was counterbalanced by another great provocation to the rebels,
which they were disposed to resent.

Half a dozen insurgents, led by Cornet Shuttleworth, had managed
to reach the ford at Penwortham, when they were attacked, and in
consequence of their resistance, put to death.

After these events had been referred to, Colonel Cotton addressed the
English and Scottish lords and chiefs, and said, in order to prevent
further bloodshed, he would agree--in General Wills’s name--to grant the
time required, provided they pledged their word that no new works should
be thrown up, and no further attempt be made to escape.

Promises to this effect being given, Colonel Cotton departed.



VIII.--HOSTAGES REQUIRED.

|General Wills, however, did not appear satisfied with what had been
done.

About an hour later, Colonel Churchill and Colonel Nassau entered the
town, and on the part of Generals Carpenter and Wills, declared that an
English and a Scottish nobleman must be delivered up as hostages for the
due fulfilment of the conditions.

“We require the Earl of Dervventwater on the part of the English, and
Lord Kenmure on that of the Scots,” said Colonel Churchill.

“Why not take General Forster?” asked Captain Dalziel.

“We prefer Lord Derwentwater or Lord Widdring-ton,” replied Churchill,
with a singular smile.

“I must tell you frankly, colonel,” said Dalziel, “that in the opinion
of the Scots, General Forster has made an arrangement for himself
through Colonel Oxburgh with General Wills. It has clearly been
ascertained that a lady of great personal beauty, who had extraordinary
influence over General Forster, gave secret information to General
Wills. Last night she was accidentally shot while returning from a
visit--it is supposed--to your camp. Now, when we find that a proposal
for surrender is made by General Forster without consulting us--and that
when a hostage is required, it is not Forster, but Lord Derwentwater
who is selected, can you wonder we believe we are betrayed? Here is a
general who refuses to march or fight--who declares the enemy is at a
distance when he proves to be close at hand--who has intimate relations
with a lady, who acts as a spy--and who proposes to surrender, and makes
terms for himself, while we desire to continue the contest--can we doubt
that he is a traitor?”

“You do not expect us to sympathise with you because you have an
incompetent leader?” said Colonel Churchill.

“Incapacity is one thing--treachery another, colonel,” said Captain
Dalziel. “We Scots all believe Forster has played us false. I do not
think his life is secure. Take him with you. He will be safer with you
than with us.”

“My orders are explicit,” said Churchill. “I must bring either of the
English lords I have mentioned, and Lord Kenmure.”

“Lord Kenmure will not come out,” said Dalziel. “Nor will my brother,
Lord Carnwath--or any other Scottish noble.”

“Then Brigadier Mackintosh must come with me,” said Churchill.

“The brigadier is gone to bed, greatly fatigued,” replied Dalziel.

“I regard that as a mere excuse,” said Churchill, gravely. “I begin to
think the treaty will fall to the ground. For the sake of the garrison,
I hope not. If the attack is recommenced, none will be spared.”

Just then the Earl of Derwentwater and Colonel Mackintosh alighted at
the door of the inn, and were announced by the sentinel. Both saluted
Colonel Churchill.

“Colonel Mackintosh and myself are come to offer ourselves as hostages
if required,” said the earl. “We do not desire that any needless
difficulties should be raised, and are therefore ready to accompany
you.”

“I surrender myself with his lordship,” said Colonel Mackintosh.

“I should be sorry if the treaty were sacrificed,” said Churchill; “and
am therefore obliged to your lordship and Colonel Mackintosh for the
humane step you have taken. You have saved the garrison.”

“Had not General Foster been our leader, the garrison would never have
been in this strait,” said Colonel Mackintosh. “We might have been
overcome, but we would not have died without inflicting some loss on our
assailants.”

“‘Tis better as it is,” said Churchill. “I have to receive the paroles
of honour of certain gentlemen that they will perform their promises,
and then I will conduct you to General Wills.”

“We will ride on to the Fishergate outlet and await you there,” said
Lord Derwentwater. “We care not to parade ourselves as prisoners.”

Colonel Churchill signified his assent, and the party separated.



IX--IN WHAT MANNER THE HOSTAGES WERE RECEIVED BY GENERAL WILLS.

|General Carpenter was not present when the Earl of Derwentwater and
Colonel Mackintosh were brought as hostages to Wills, but Brigadier
Munden, Colonels Pitt, Wynn, and Stanhope were with him at the time.

The severe commander received the hostages very haughtily, and knitted
his dark brows as he regarded them.

Lord Derwentwater comported himself with great dignity, but Colonel
Mackintosh could scarcely restrain his anger, especially when Wills
asked:

“Why have we not a Scotch nobleman? I required Lord Nithsdale or Lord
Kenmure.”

“They declined to come, general,” replied Churchill.

“Methinks, the chief of the Clan Chattan might suffice,” said
Mackintosh. “Had I refused to surrender, not a Highlander would have
laid down his arms.”

“And not one would have escaped,” rejoined Wills. “If you think you
can stand against the king’s troops go back to the town, and I will
immediately attack you.”

“If I take you at your word, I presume you will give General Forster a
safe-conduct!” rejoined Mackintosh.

Wills looked fiercely at him, but made no response.

“If Colonel Mackintosh returns, I shall return, general,” said Lord
Derwentwater, “and then the truce will be at an end. Attack us when you
please, we shall be prepared for you.”

“Is this your decision, my lord?” cried Mackintosh, joyfully. “I am glad
of it.”

“Hold!” exclaimed Wills, who did not desire that matters should take
this turn. “Since the arrangement is partly concluded, I will not
disturb it. By to-morrow these feelings of irritation will have calmed
down, and then you will see that I have granted all I could.”

“Nothing has been granted,” said Colonel Mackintosh. “We shall be worse
off to-morrow than we are to-day. Come with me my lord. Let us die
together at Preston.”

“You cannot depart,” said Wills, authoritatively. “Tomorrow you may have
an opportunity of proving your bravery. To-night you must remain here.
Let them be taken to their quarters, colonel,” he added to Churchill. “I
am sorry I cannot offer you better accommodation.”

“Make no apologies, general,” said Lord Derwentwater, haughtily. “We
know with whom we have to deal.”

They were then taken to a farm-house, where Parson Woods and his men
were quartered, and where very inconvenient lodgings were found for
them.



X.--BRIGADIER MACKINTOSH DISSUADES THE EARL OF WINTOUN FROM SALLYING
FORTH.

|No sooner did it become known that a capitulation had been agreed on
than Lord Wintoun went to Brigadier Mackintosh, who so far from having
retired to rest, was greatly on the alert, and entreated him to allow
a strong body of his Highlanders to line the hedges on the Lancaster
avenue, while he made a determined attempt at escape.

“I shall be accompanied by Major Nairn, Captain Philip Lockhart, Captain
Shaftoe, and a dozen others, and we will either effect an escape or sell
our lives dearly.”

“It is too late,” replied the brigadier. “My Highlanders could render
you little assistance. The Lancaster avenue is now guarded by six
squadrons of dragoons in addition to the former guard, so that you will
infallibly be cut to pieces. Besides, hostages have been given, and that
alone ought to deter you from making the attempt.”

“Then we must remain tamely here?” said Lord Wintoun.

“There is no help for it, my lord,” replied the brigadier. “If I had had
my own way, things should never have come to this pass. We ought to have
cut our way out before the arrival of General Carpenter.”

“Have we any chance of escape now, think you?” asked Lord Wintoun.

“Very little, I fear,” replied the brigadier. “But we must be prepared
to take advantage of any unforeseen circumstances to-morrow. It is not
likely that any will occur--but it may be.”



XI.--THE TERMS OF THE TREATY ARE ACCEPTED.

|A DISMAL day dawned on Preston.

The inhabitants had heard of the capitulation, but did not feel sure it
would be carried out--many of the more timid being apprehensive that the
town would still be the scene of a most sanguinary conflict.

In the opinion of these persons the Highlanders would not submit, but
would make a most desperate attempt to sally forth, which would end in
their extermination.

The English insurgents had made up their minds to surrender, and seemed
hardly able to realise the position in which they were placed, for most
of them displayed unaccountable indifference.

Perhaps they persuaded themselves that clemency would be shown them. If
so, they were mistaken. The town-hall was crowded with ladies who had
passed the night there, and did not mean to quit the asylum till all was
settled.

Once more, and for the last time, Captain Gordon ascended the
church-tower at break of day, and looked around.

The besiegers had drawn so much nearer to the town, that they seemed now
quite close at hand.

The militia had likewise quitted their position on the south bank of the
Ribble, and stationed themselves near the upper end of the Wigan road.

In fact, the town was completely invested, and Captain

Gordon saw at a glance that it would be impossible to break through such
a cordon.

In the Churchgate and Fishergate the barricades were undisturbed, but no
preparations were made for the renewal of the fight.

Brigadier Mackintosh was no longer at his post, and most of the
Highlanders had retired to the houses, anxious to snatch a few hours’
rest, and certain they would be summoned when required.

No sound of bagpipes was heard.

The neglected batteries, deserted streets, and dejected air of such
troopers as could be seen, offered a marked contrast to the formidable
appearance of the besiegers. Captain Gordon felt that the contest was
over, and desired to see no more.

Later on, all the English and Scottish leaders, with the exception of
the two who had surrendered themselves as hostages, assembled at the
Mitre, where it was finally agreed that the terms of the treaty should
be accepted.

“My men are willing to submit,” said Mackintosh. “But they look upon
themselves as sacrificed. Bitterly do I now reproach myself that I ever
brought them to England against their will, and that I did not turn back
at Lancaster. They might have helped the Earl of Mar to win a battle.
Poor fellows! they will now be transported and sold as slaves. My heart
bleeds for them.”

“We Scots have all cause to regret that we ever crossed the Border,”
 said Lord Kenmure. “But we have done our best for King James, and if
we had been supported, we might have succeeded. We have had a High Tory
general, yet not one of the party has joined us.”

“No one can have been more disappointed than myself,” said Forster. “If
we had only reached Manchester----”

“Why did we not reach that town? tell us that,” cried Brigadier
Mackintosh.

“I admit we ought not to have stayed so long in Preston,” said Forster.
“But you all seemed unwilling to quit your quarters, and I apprehended
no danger.”

“‘Tis idle to regret the past,” said Lord Widdrington; “you have
complained of the absence of the High Church Tories, my lord,” he added,
to Lord Kenmure. “But you cannot say that the Roman Catholics have
failed you.”

“No, they have proved our staunchest friends,” replied Lord Kenmure.
“And a braver and a better commander cannot be found than Lord
Derwentwater.”

“In that we all agree,” said Lord Nithsdale and the other Scottish
nobles.

“The hour at which the armistice expires is close at hand,” said
Forster, “and we must therefore prepare to conclude this painful
business properly. We will remain here, but all the officers--English
and Scotch--must forthwith assemble within the churchyard to deliver up
their arms. Let immediate orders be given to that effect,” he added
to Charles Radclyffe and Captain Dalziel, who at once departed on the
errand.



XII.--THE INSURGENT OFFICERS DELIVER UP THEIR SWORDS.

|SHORTLY afterwards, in obedience to Forster’s orders, all the officers
of the insurgent force assembled in the churchyard, and though they
endeavoured to assume a careless air, many of them looked very downcast.
Among them were all those who had recently joined at Lancaster and
Preston, and received the rank of captain--Mr. Townley, of Townley, Sir
Francis Anderton, Ralph Standish, Gabriel Hesketh, John Tyldesley, John
Dalton, and several others.

They had had but a short campaign, and might now have to pay for their
devotion with their lives. However, they bore themselves bravely under
the distressing circumstances. The annoyance of the ceremonial was
heightened by its publicity.

A large concourse was collected in the churchyard, and among the
spectators were a great number of the fair sex, who flocked thither to
manifest their sympathy with their lovers. They expressed their grief
in the liveliest manner. Dryope was there, and Captain Shaftoe had some
difficulty in inducing her to stand back. But she remained at a short
distance gazing at him through her tears. The appearance of these fair
damsels, who formed the foremost rank of the spectators, gave a curious
character to the scene.

Precisely at the appointed hour, Lord Forrester, preceded by a trumpet
and a drum, and attended by a guard, entered the town, and rode to the
churchyard.

Alighting at the gate, and followed by a couple of men, he marched up to
the rebel officers.

Lord Forrester was a tall, fine-looking man, well suited to the office,
which he performed with courtesy.

“Gentlemen,” he said, addressing them, “I have a very painful duty to
discharge. I have to receive the arms of brave and honourable men, which
ought to have been used for their king.”

To this Colonel Oxburgh, who stood next him, replied as he delivered up
his sword:

“Our arms have been used, my lord, for our rightful sovereign and
against a usurper.”

Lord Forrester made no remark but consigned the sword to the custody of
one of his men, and passed on.

He had received more than twenty swords, when he came to Captain
Shaftoe, and as there seemed to be some hesitation on Shaftoe’s part, he
said:

“Your sword, sir?”

“Take it,” cried Shaftoe.

And plucking the blade from the sheath, he broke it, and flung the
pieces at Lord Forrester’s feet.

On this there were shouts of applause from the female spectators.

“I suppose it was to win that applause that this foolish act was done,
Captain Shaftoe,” observed Lord Forrester.

“You have broken the treaty, and have rendered yourself liable to the
punishment of death.”

“As these words were uttered, Dryope and three or four of the fair
spectators rushed forward, and threw themselves at Lord Forrester’s
feet, exclaiming:

“Spare him! spare him!”

“Rise, ladies!” said Lord Forrester. “I am not about to order Captain
Shaftoe’s immediate execution. I am sorry so great a favourite of your
sex should refuse to submit--but no doubt you can bring him to reason. I
leave him in your hands.”

With this, he passed on to Sir Francis Anderton and Mr. Townley, who
were next, and received their swords.

“Ah! gentlemen,” he said, “I am sorry to find you here. Had you remained
quiet for a few days you would have escaped this disaster. You should
have followed the example of the cautious High Church Tories!”

“We have done what seems right to us, my lord,” said Mr. Townley,
haughtily, “and are prepared for the consequences.”

The last sword received by Lord Forrester was that of Captain Wogan, who
said to him:

“Your looks reproach me, my lord, but I do not reproach myself. If I had
had fifty swords, they should all have been devoted to King James.”

With a military salute to the unfortunate officers, Lord Forrester then
quitted the churchyard, followed by his men, bearing two large bundles
of swords, and proceeded to the Mitre, there to go through a like
ceremony with General Forster and the lords.



XIII.--HOW BRIGADIER MACKINTOSH PARTED WITH HIS CLAYMORE.

|By this time, Lord Derwentwater and Colonel Mackintosh had returned,
but were merely spectators of the scene--their swords having been
delivered up at the time of their surrender.

The Scottish nobles behaved with great dignity, and were treated with
the utmost respect by Lord Forrester, who made no remark calculated to
give them pain.

For the first time in his life, Brigadier Mackintosh’s courage forsook
him.

Kissing the hilt of his claymore, as he gave up the weapon, he said in
broken accents:

“Farewell, old friend! I never thought to part with you, save with
life!”

The ceremony was soon over, for Lord Forrester did not needlessly
prolong it. Before departing, he said, addressing the assemblage:

“An hour hence, General Carpenter will enter the town to receive his
prisoners. By that time the entire rebel force must be drawn up in the
market-place to surrender arms. None must be absent, on any pretence
whatever, and on pain of severe punishment. For the execution of this
order, I look to you, General Forster, to you, my Lord Derwentwater,
to you, my Lord Widdrington, to you my lords,” turning to the Scottish
nobles, “to you, brigadier, and to you, Colonel Mackintosh.”

“My lord,” remonstrated the brigadier, “an hour is but a short time to
bring together a number of unruly Highlanders---”

“It must suffice,” interrupted Lord Forrester. “You could get them ready
for action in that time.”

“True, my lord,” replied the brigadier. “But a surrender is different.
They will have to be driven to the place.”

“Colonel Mackintosh, I trust you see no difficulty?” said Lord
Forrester, turning to the chief.

“None, my lord,” was the reply. “My clansmen will die with me, if I bid
them.”

“In an hour, then,” said Forrester as he quitted the room.

Mounting his horse, and attended by the guard, bearing the arms, he
galloped off to General Carpenter’s quarters.

“What has been done?” asked Carpenter.

“The business is settled,” replied Lord Forrester. “An hour hence the
entire rebel force will surrender in the market-place.”



XIV.--THE TWO GENERALS ENTER THE TOWN.

|Amid the sound of trumpets and drums, General Carpenter entered
the conquered town at the head of two regiments of dragoons. He was
accompanied by the Earl of Carlisle and Lord Lumley, and had with him
Colonels Churchill and Molesworth, and a brilliant staff of officers.

As he rode slowly along Church Street, by which avenue he made his
entrance, he looked with some curiosity at the blackened remains of the
houses, and other evidences of the fight. For a few minutes he halted
on the spot where the barricade had been reared, and explained what had
been done to the noblemen with him, giving Brigadier Mackintosh full
credit for his plan of defence.

“The barriers could not have been better placed,” he said; “and though
the town must have succumbed to Wills, it might have held out for
another day--perhaps till now.”

With these remarks, with which Churchill and Molesworth entirely
concurred, he proceeded towards the market-place, noticing everything as
he rode on.

Meanwhile, martial strains resounding at the north side of the town,
announced the entrance of General Wills and four regiments of dragoons
by the Lancaster avenue.

Wills was attended by Brigadiers Pitt and Dormer, and, like General
Carpenter, had a staff of officers with him. He had not the curiosity
to look around, and scarcely troubled himself to consider where the
Windmill barricade had been situated.

In addition to the dragoons, just mentioned, three regiments of foot,
commanded by Lord Forrester, Captain Sabine, and Captain Fain, entered
by the Fishergate avenue and proceeded towards the market-place.

Notwithstanding this imposing military display, very few persons were to
be seen in the streets, and but few shouts welcomed the victors.

In the market-place, a very striking, but very sad spectacle was to
be seen, and this attracted all the townsfolk who could find access
thither.

Here, as enjoined by the conquerors, all the insurgent troops were drawn
up preparatory to a general surrender.

Yes! they were all there--with the exception of General Forster. Lord
Derwent water’s troop, commanded by Charles Radclyffe and Captain
Shaftoe, and comprising all the handsome young gentlemen, of whom so
much has been said--Lord Widdrington’s troop, commanded by Captain
Errington and Captain Gascoigne--the mosstroopers and Borderers,
commanded by Captain Douglas and Hunter, and the troop commanded by the
brave Wogan.

Here also were the five troops of South Country Scots, respectively
commanded by Lord Kenmure, the Honourable James Hume, Lord Wintoun, Lord
Carnwath, and Captain Lockhart.

Here, also, were the whole of the Highlanders, with Brigadier
Mackintosh, and his kinsman, Colonel Mackintosh, at their head.

We have said that General Forster was absent. He excused himself on the
plea that his life was in danger from the Highlanders.

On this very spot, only a few days ago, all these troops had been
assembled to proclaim King James. At that time they were confident
of success. They felt certain of receiving large reinforcements, and
believed they should be able to reach London without interruption. And,
perhaps, they might But the delay at Preston proved fatal. Caught in a
snare, they had allowed their enemies to check them--to overtake them.

The most painful reflection that forced itself upon all the insurgent
officers and gentlemen was that they were destroyed by their own folly.
Oh! that they had not yielded to the allurements of the fair sex, but
had marched on resolutely!

As the ladies gazed at their lovers from the windows overlooking the
place, they thought them woefully changed. Their gay galliard air was
quite gone. Some appeared indifferent, but it was easy to be seen that
their levity was assumed.

As soon as the two victorious generals arrived in the market-place,
and had satisfied themselves that the whole of the rebel force was
assembled, all the men were ordered to pile their arms, and this done
the officers and gentlemen volunteers belonging to the Northumbrian
force were secured, and removed to commodious houses, where they were
strictly guarded, but allowed to see their fair friends, who quickly
paid them a visit.

The noblemen and superior officers were taken to the inns and various
private houses; but the common soldiers and Highlanders were marched
off to the church, which served as their prison during their stay in
Preston.

Here they were allowed no better fare than bread and water, supplied to
them at the expense of the town, and as they suffered frightfully from
the cold, they tore the linings from the pews to afford themselves a
scanty covering.



XV.--THE TOWN IS PLUNDERED BY THE SOLDIERY.

|HAVING seen the prisoners disposed of and given all necessary orders
respecting them, the two generals, accompanied by the Earl of Carlisle,
Lord Lumley, Sir Henry Hoghton, Brigadier Honeywood, Colonel Stanhope,
and several others entered the town-hall, where a cold collation was
laid out for them.

To this repast Parson Woods, who had been presented to General
Carpenter, was invited, and received many compliments on his bravery.

The generals were still at table, when they were informed that a
deputation of the inhabitants of the town was without, and prayed for an
immediate audience.

Wills guessed their errand, and if left to himself, would have refused
to see them. But General Carpenter caused half a dozen of the applicants
to be admitted, and then found that their object was to prevent the town
from being plundered by the soldiery.

“The pillage has already commenced,” said one of the persons who acted
as spokesman, “and unless the men are restrained, all our goods will be
carried off. As faithful subjects of his Majesty King George we ought
to be protected. We could not prevent the occupation of the town by
the rebels, and it will be a great hardship if we suffer for their
misdeeds.”

“You must address yourselves to General Wills--not to me, gentlemen,”
 said Carpenter. “He has had the conduct of the siege.”

“I cannot listen to the appeal,” remarked Wills, sternly. “By the rules
of war the men are entitled to the plunder of a captured town, and I
shall not restrain them. You profess fidelity to the king, but you have
afforded every assistance to the rebels, and if you have not actually
taken part with them, you have furnished them with provisions and
supplies.”

“We were forced to do so, general,” said the others. “And we earnestly
beseech you to spare our property.”

Wills, however, refused to listen to them, and they departed.

Thus was the ill-fated town delivered over to pillage.

Fortunately no excesses were committed by the soldiers all license being
forbidden on pain of death.

The plunderers commenced with the shops of the goldsmiths, silversmiths,
and jewellers, where they expected to find the greatest quantity of
valuables.

These shops were all shut up, but were quickly broken open, and stripped
of their contents--plate, watches, rings, and chains being carried off.

From this booty alone the soldiers obtained several hundred pounds.

They next entered all the best private houses in Church Street and
Fishergate, breaking open closets and chests, and abstracting all the
plate and valuables they could find.

While one set of plunderers were thus engaged, others were similarly
employed in different parts of the town.

Everywhere the houses were ransacked, and no portable article was left
behind.

Not till a late hour in the day, when they had carried off all they
could, did the soldiers desist from the work.

Great was the indignation of the inhabitants at this treatment, but they
did not dare to resist.

However, there were no cases of intoxication, for the men were prevented
by the sergeants and corporals from breaking open the cellars.

But it was a woeful day for Preston, and such as its inhabitants
never thought to experience. Wills’s severity caused him to be held in
universal detestation.

General Carpenter did not remain long in the town. Finding it
inconveniently crowded, he set out for Wigan, immediately after the
surrender, with the regiments under his command.

None of his men therefore shared in the plunder--nor would he have
allowed them to share in it.



XVI.--CAPTAIN SHAFTOE IS SHOT.

|Preston might well be full. Without counting the Government troops,
fifteen hundred and fifty prisoners of all ranks were detained within
the town.

Some few escapes took place, and amongst those who got off was Tom
Syddall. Unfortunately, he was afterwards captured.

After a few days’ detention, General Forster, Lord Derwentwater, Lord
Widdrington, Brigadier Mackintosh, the Scottish lords and chiefs, with
the leading Northumbrian officers, were sent under a strong guard to
Wigan on the way to London.

Other less important prisoners were sent to Lancaster, Chester, and
Liverpool, and confined in the jails of those towns.

Six insurgent officers were detained at Preston, and subsequently tried
by court-martial for desertion and taking up arms against the king.

These were Lord Charles Murray, Captain Dalziel, Major Nairn, Captain
Philip Lockhart, Ensign Erskine, and Captain Shaftoe. The lives of the
two first were spared, but the others were condemned to be shot next
day.

As Captain Shaftoe was a great favourite in Preston, his sentence caused
profound grief, and application was made for a reprieve, but General
Wills refused to grant it unless Shaftoe would acknowledge that he had
been guilty of rebellion, and sue for mercy from King George.

Captain Shaftoe, however, absolutely refused, declaring he had simply
done his duty, and would not renounce King James, even if a pardon were
offered him.

Next morning, at an early hour, the rebel officers were taken by a party
of foot soldiers to a field below the church. Among the spectators, were
some young women, whose distressed condition touched the hearts of all
who beheld them.

A few moments were spent by the rebel officers in preparation. After
they had embraced, and bade each other farewell, Major Nairn came
forward, and begged of the officer in command that his eyes might not be
bandaged, and that he himself might give the order to the men to fire.

Neither request was accorded.

Not till he had laid Major Nairn in his coffin, with his own hands,
would Captain Lockhart submit to his fate and when all was over, he was
cared for as anxiously as his friend.

Only one was left.

As the spectators beheld the tall handsome figure standing erect before
them an irrepressible murmur arose.

Looking around, Shaftoe at once discovered the young women, and as his
eye settled upon one of them he called out:

“Do not forget.”

A white kerchief was waved in reply.

A proud smile lighted up his handsome countenance when his eyes were
bound, and his last words, distinctly heard by all were:

“Long live King James the Third.”

Half a dozen bullets were instantly lodged in his breast. For a moment
he stood erect, and then fell.

Thereupon a very beautiful young woman, whose features were as white
as her attire, stepped quickly forward, followed by two others, and
motioning back the soldiers, took up Shaftoe’s body and placed it in his
coffin.

This done, she who had first come forward, and who was no other than
Dryope, knelt down, and fixing a look of unalterable affection upon her
dead lover, kissed his brow.

Placing a few flowers beside him, she then arose and disappeared with
her companions.

Thus died, and thus was mourned, one of the most gallant gentlemen of
the rebel army.

END OF BOOK THE NINTH.



_BOOK THE TENTH_--THE DUNGEON.



I--THE CHIEF INSURGENT PRISONERS ARE TAKEN TO LONDON.

|Sorrowful was the ride of the Earl of Derwentwater from Preston to
Wigan; and his favourite dapple-grey steed that had borne him throughout
the campaign, seemed to share his despondency.

Moreover, the weather was gloomy, and in accordance with the earl’s
sombre thoughts.

And, truly, there was enough to make him sad. All was lost. All
his great estates would be confiscated, and the journey he had just
commenced would inevitably end in the scaffold.

To add poignancy to his affliction, he could not help reflecting how
different the result might have been, but for Forster’s deplorable
ignorance and obstinacy, and though he acquitted the general of absolute
treachery, he could not help feeling that the insurgent army was
entirely sacrificed by him.

These thoughts forced themselves upon the earl as he crossed the Ribble
Bridge, and did not leave him till he reached Wigan.

Here Lord Derwentwater learnt that Forster had been allowed a carriage,
and a seat was offered to him in the same conveyance, but he declined
it--preferring to ride.

None of the Scottish lords would travel with Forster, but he found
companions in his chaplain, Mr. Patten, Lord Widdrington, and Colonel
Oxburgh.

The Earl of Derwentwater performed the whole journey on horseback.

From Wigan the rebel prisoners were conducted to Warrington, where a
division took place, and upwards of a hundred were sent on to London,
guarded by several detachments of horse. Amongst these prisoners were
Sir Francis Anderton, Mr. Townley, Mr. Standish, Mr. Tyldesley, and
other Lancashire gentlemen who had joined at Preston.

After a short halt at Warrington, they proceeded by slow stages to
Coventry, and Lord Derwentwater in some degree recovered his spirits,
being cheered by the society of Sir Francis Anderton and Mr. Townley.

At Coventry, the escort was relieved by another detachment of a hundred
troopers commanded by Brigadier Ponton, by whom General Forster was
deprived of his carriage.

As an excuse for the indignity thus offered to the late general, it was
said that on his arrival at London an attempt would be made to rescue
him by a High Church Tory mob.

But Forster fell ill and could not sit his horse, and the carriage
became indispensable.

At Highgate, Major General Tatton was waiting with two battalions of
foot-guards to take charge of the prisoners who were consigned to him,
and without consideration to rank, pinioned.

Each prisoner’s horse had a halter placed round his neck, and was led by
a grenadier.

In this ignominious manner the prisoners were conducted in four separate
divisions to the Tower, Newgate, the Fleet, and the Marshalsea. Lord
Derwentwater, Lord Widdrington, and the Scottish nobles were taken to
the state prison, while Forster, to his great mortification, was lodged
with the others in Newgate.

Drums were beaten loudly as the unfortunate captives were taken through
the streets, exposed to the insults and derision of the populace, and in
some cases seriously injured by the numerous missiles hurled at them.

Incessant cries resounded on all sides of “No Popish Pretender!”

“Down with the rebels!”

“Long live King George!” But not a single voice shouted “Long live King
James!”

The composure and dignity of the Earl of Derwentwater, combined with his
remarkable good looks, could not fail to produce a favourable impression
upon the spectators; but quite a sensation was caused by Brigadier
Mackintosh, whose gigantic figure and stern looks completely bore out
all the descriptions that had been given of him.

The old warrior had been allowed to walk, so that his muscular frame
could be fully seen, and though his arms were pinioned, his aspect was
so terrible that none dared insult him.



II.--THE EARL OF DERWENTWATER IS IMPRISONED IN THE DEVEREUX TOWER.

|The rebel lords were confined in different prison lodgings in the
Tower, but were not treated with any sort of rigour, being allowed by
the Lieutenant to visit each other when accompanied by a guard.

The Earl of Derwentwater had a large chamber on the upper story of the
Devereux Tower, with a cell connected with it, wherein he slept, and he
passed his time wholly in reading and devotional exercises.

Thus his mind, greatly troubled at first, became gradually
tranquillised.

The earl had been imprisoned for nearly a fortnight when the countess,
to whom he had written, praying her to come to him, arrived in London.

She was accompanied by Dorothy Forster, who hoped to be useful to her
brother, and was likewise attended by Father Norham and Newbiggin.

Without difficulty Lady Derwentwater obtained an order to visit her
consort in the Tower, and was furthermore permitted to bring Father
Norham with her.

It was a very sad meeting, but the frame of mind attained by the earl
enabled him to support it, and to offer the count his consolation.

Though scarcely indulging a hope, Lord Derwentwater was not unwilling
that every effort should be made to obtain a pardon for him, for he
could not deny, when gazing at the countess, that life was dear to him.

Father Norham, however, who feared the worst, urged him to wean his
heart as much as possible from earth, and fix it upon heaven.

This the earl earnestly strove to do, and he was greatly assisted by
the good priest. His life had always been devout, and now he felt the
inexpressible comfort derived from religious observances.

Meanwhile, the countess was using all her efforts to procure her husband
a pardon, but she was deterred from applying in the highest quarter,
being informed that the king was greatly incensed against the rebel
lords, and would not listen to her.

Immediately after the meeting of Parliament, General Forster was
expelled from the House of Commons, and the English and Scottish
noblemen concerned in the rebellion were impeached of high treason.

All pleaded guilty, except the Earl of Wintoun, who petitioned for a
delay. They were next conveyed by water from the Tower to Westminister
Hall, and being brought into the court, presided over by Lord Chancellor
Cowper, as Lord High Steward, received sentence of death.

On this occasion the noble prisoners conducted themselves with great
firmness and dignity. Nor did the crowd insult them as they were taken
back to the barge.

Many spectators indeed regarded them with sympathy, but did not dare to
make any demonstration in their favour.

The countess of Derwentwater no longer hesitated. Accompanied by the
Duchesses of Cleveland and Bolton, and several other ladies of the
highest rank, she was introduced by the Dukes of Richmond and St. Albans
into the king’s bedchamber, and flinging herself at his majesty’s feet,
addressed him in French, imploring his clemency for her husband.

The king raised her immediately, and said in an inflexible voice:

“What has the Earl of Derwentwater done to merit clemency on my part?
He has been guilty of a most heinous treason. He has set up a Popish
Pretender. He has raised my subjects in rebellion--has made war
against me--and now that he is vanquished, he sues humbly for mercy.
I cannot--will not pardon him. I look upon him as the guiltiest of the
rebel lords.”

“Oh! say not so, my liege!” supplicated the countess. “His nature is
loyal and generous.”

“He has not proved loyal to me,” cried the king. “He is a traitor--a
vile traitor--and I will not pardon him. No more madam! you plead in
vain. I pity you--but I cannot help you. The Earl of Derwentwater must
die.”

As she still continued to clasp his hand, and bathe it with her tears,
the king signed to the Duke of Richmond, who raised her and took her
away.

This was not the only effort made by the unhappy countess.

She subsequently went to the lobby of the House ot Peers, accompanied
by the Countess of Nithsdale, Lady Nairn, and many other ladies of
distinction, but their petition was refused.

The Countess of Derwentwater was filled with despair when she had to
communicate this sad news to the earl, but he bore it firmly.

“I am sorry you knelt to the usurper,” he said. “I am the guiltiest of
all the insurgent lords in his eyes, because I am most attached to King
James, and because King James is most attached to me. You have promised
too much for me, sweetheart. I have never sworn allegiance to the
Hanoverian usurper, and never will. I might engage not to conspire
against him, but I refuse to serve him.”

“What is to be done?” cried the countess, despairingly.

“Nothing,” replied the earl. “I forbid you to make any further appeal to
the tyrant. My death is resolved on.”

“I cannot think otherwise, daughter,” observed Father Norham, who was
present.

“Perhaps your escape may be accomplished?” cried the countess eagerly.

“That is wholly different,” said the earl. “If you can aid in my
deliverance, I shall rejoice. But I fear the attempt will not be
successful.”

“Wherefore not?” said the countess.

“Because I believe that my destiny is otherwise,” rejoined the earl.

“Yield not to such fancies, my son,” said Father Norham. “Nor let any
scruple hinder you from freeing yourself, if you can, from the tyrant’s
power. Break his bonds I counsel you, and escape from captivity and
death. You may still be able to serve King James, and the great services
you have rendered him, and the sacrifices you have made for him, may be
rewarded.”

“Whatever is done, must be done quickly,” said the earl. “The time
approaches when escape will no longer be possible--unless,” he added,
with a strange smile, “I could walk, like Saint Denis, with my head
off.”

Though the earl never quitted the Devereux Tower except for the
scaffold, two remarkable escape occurred from adjoining fortifications,
to which we shall refer.



III.--THE EARL OF NITHSDALE’S ESCAPE.

|Having vainly solicited a pardon for her husband, the Countess of
Nithsdale, a woman of great courage, as well as of great personal
attractions, resolved to make an attempt to liberate him.

Before putting her project in execution she found a place of refuge,
where the earl might remain safely concealed till he could embark for
France.

This done, on the last day it was thought he had to live, she drove to
the Tower gate in a hackney-coach, and dismissed the vehicle.

She was accompanied by two female attendants, and seemed so utterly
prostrated by grief, that she needed their assistance.

Her attendants wore hoods and cloaks, but not in such a manner as to
appear like a disguise.

The earl was confined in a distant fortification situated in the
north-west angle of the inner ward, and it seemed certain that the
countess would never have got there without support.

A sentinel was stationed at the entrance of the prison lodging, but as
the party were preceded by a jailer they passed without question.

When the massive door of his prison chamber was unlocked, Lord Nithsdale
came forth from a small inner room, or cell, and perceiving his wife
uttered a cry, and clasped her to his breast.

Shortly afterwards, the jailer who was stationed outside, was summoned
by one of the female attendants. She told him her services were no
longer required, and after a very slight scrutiny he suffered her to
depart.

But this active confidante had stayed long enough to divest herself of
an additional dress with which she was provided.

This dress was meant as a disguise for the earl, while it was intended
that her fellow-servant should personate the afflicted countess.

The exchanges of attire were quickly made.

The earl, whose slight figure and small stature suited the part he had
to play, was transformed into a lady’s maid; and the representative of
the countess was duly prepared for the part she had to enact.

All was now ready, but it was deemed prudent to wait nearly an hour, and
it will be guessed what anxiety was felt in the interval.

At length, the jailer was called.

On unlocking the door, he beheld the earl as he thought, in an attitude
of despair, leaning on the table, with his face covered by his hands.

The unhappy countess was overwhelmed by grief, and had to be led forth
by her attendant, who was muffled up in her hood to hide her own tears.

The jailer’s stony heart was touched by so much grief. He let them out
without a word, fastened the door, and following them down the circular
stone steps, offered in a kindly tone to conduct them to the gate.

The countess murmured her thanks, and the man marched on before them,
and saved them from any interference, receiving a piece of gold for his
pains, when he left them at the Bulwark Gate.

“Tell your lady,” he said to the attendant, who gave him the gratuity,
“that I will do all I can for his lordship to-morrow.”

He would have called a coach, but they took a boat and crossed to the
other side of the river.

The first person to enter the prison-chamber after the earl’s flight was
the Lieutenant of the Tower.

He was filled with consternation on perceiving that its sole occupant
was a very handsome woman.

“The Countess of Nithsdale here!” he exclaimed. “The earl then has
escaped?”

“Solely by my connivance,” she replied. “No one here has been concerned
in the flight.”

“That remains to be ascertained,” rejoined the Lieutenant. “But your
ladyship’s life will be responsible for that of your husband.”

“My husband is safe, and that is enough for me!” cried the countess,
joyfully.

“But he may be recaptured,” said the Lieutenant.

“I have no uneasiness on that score,” she rejoined. “My precautions have
been too well taken.”

“Well, I must detain your ladyship,” said the Lieutenant. “And I know
not what course may be pursued; but I will frankly own that I hope you
may be able to rejoin your lord.”

This good wish was eventually fulfilled.



IV.--THE EARL OF WINTOUN’S ESCAPE.

|ANOTHER important escape must be recounted.

In this case the noble fugitive was indebted entirely to his own
exertions for deliverance.

The youth of the Earl of Wintoun was passed in a manner that might have
given him extraordinary notoriety in our own time; but though he ran
away to France, and disappeared for some years, his claim to the title
was never disputed.

Incredible as it may seem, during this period of his career, he hired
himself to a blacksmith, and served as a mere bellows-blower for some
years.

At the same time he acquired considerable mechanical skill, which was
subsequently improved, when he abandoned the hammer and the forge, and
his talent now stood him in good stead.

He was imprisoned in the upper part of the Hall Tower, formerly, as its
name imported, connected with the old palace, and the windows of his
rooms looked into the inner and outer wards.

These windows were strongly grated, but Lord Wintoun derided this
obstacle to escape.

Carefully concealed about his person, he had a couple of small files,
and setting to work with these implements, he so nearly cut through the
bars, that he could immediately remove them when needful.

The main difficulty was now overcome, but the windows were at a
considerable height from the ground; and, moreover, there were sentinels
both at the back and front, who must be eluded before an escape could be
effected.

The Earl of Wintoun, however, was confident in his own ability to manage
the matter, and did not doubt he should find an opportunity of getting
off.

The opportunity occurred.

During the day a fog had prevailed in the City, and of course extended
to the Tower. Indeed, it was thicker there than elsewhere.

Towards night the vapour increased in density. Not only was the
White Tower completely hidden, but all the surrounding buildings were
obscured. The sentinels could scarcely be distinguished on their posts.
Links were lighted, but only served to make the darkness more palpable.

When the fog first came on, the Earl of Wintoun resolved to take
advantage of the chance thus offered him, but he waited patiently till
night.

No extra precaution seemed to be taken by the jailers, except that the
entrance to the Hall Tower from the inner ward was fastened, but this
mattered little, since the fugitive proposed to descend from the window
looking towards the outer ward.

No sooner had the jailer paid his last visit for the night than the earl
removed the bars from the window, tied a couple of sheets together
and fastened them, and then listened intently for the sound of the
sentinel’s footsteps, who was pacing to and fro beneath.

So dark was it that Lord Wintoun could not see the man, but he could
hear him, and when he judged by the sound that the sentinel was at the
greatest distance, he let himself down as quickly and noiselessly as he
could.

A sound reached the man’s ear, for he suddenly halted and called out:

“Who goes there?”

But receiving no answer, and hearing no further noise, he did not think
it needful to give the alarm.

Meanwhile, the Earl of Wintoun, who had remained perfectly quiet at this
critical juncture, now stole to the further side of the ward, and crept
along the edge of the wall till he got within a short distance of the
Gate Tower.

Here fortune favoured him.

At the very moment of his arrival, a warder who had just come from the
guard-room was opening the wicket to let out some half-dozen persons.

Without hesitation, the earl mixed with the party, and though a link was
brought, he escaped without attracting the warder’s attention.

But another portal had still to be passed at the opposite side of the
bridge, and as Lord Wintoun was marching towards it with his companions,
he felt his arm grasped, while a voice whispered in his ear:

“You are one of the rebel lords. Your life is worth a thousand pounds. I
must have that sum, or I will prevent your escape.”

“You shall have the money,” replied the earl, in the same tone.

“Enough,” said the man. “I know you will fulfil your promise. Take that
letter. It will tell you who I am.”

But for this timely aid the earl might have been stopped by the guard at
the Middle Tower.

However, he soon got clear of the fortress, and passing through the
Bulwark Gate, plunged into the fog that enveloped Tower Hill.



V.--GENERAL FORSTER’S ESCAPE FROM NEWGATE.

|A very jovial time the prisoners in Newgate had of it.

Supplied with plenty of money by their friends, they could obtain
whatever they wanted; and better wine and better punch were drunk in
Newgate than at any tavern in town.

The prison, indeed, resembled nothing so much as a large inn, where the
numerous guests were feasting and carousing from morning till night.

The majority of the prisoners persuaded themselves that in consequence
of their surrender they should be very leniently treated, but come what
might, they resolved to make the most of the present moment.

Ordinarily a sort of barrack, called the King’s Bench Ward, was occupied
by debtors, but in consequence of the excessively, crowded state of the
jail, this large chamber, which was partitioned off for beds, served as
a dormitory for a portion of the rebels, while they dined, supped, drank
punch, smoked pipes, played cards, dice, and draughts, in the Debtors’
Hall.

Driven from their quarters, the luckless debtors took refuge on the
felons’ side or in the cellar.

Private bed-chambers, and small private apartments, for which enormous
fees were demanded by the governor, Mr. Pitts, were provided for some of
the insurgent leaders.

The best bedroom in the prison, which had formerly been occupied by Lord
Russell and Count Koningsmark, and more recently by Count Guiscard, was
let to General Forster. Charles Radclyffe and Colonel Oxburgh were each
furnished with a good room, but Brigadier Mackintosh did not care how he
was accommodated.

The chief officers had their own mess-table, at which they were very
well served, and friends constantly dined with them. The prison, indeed,
was as full of visitors as inmates, and the prisoners were just as
cheerful as their guests.

A great deal of sympathy was felt for the unfortunate

Jacobite gentlemen by the fair sex, who flocked to Newgate to express
it.

The prisoners were highly gratified by their attention, and exceedingly
delighted to see them, and the lodge was so beset by sedan-chairs and
coaches, and so thronged by ladies in fine dresses and loo-masks that
it looked more like the entrance to a masquerade than the approach to a
gloomy dungeon.

Notwithstanding his reverses, and though he was severely censured by his
own party, General Forster maintained his cheerfulness.

On Dorothy’s arrival in town he was constantly visited by her, and it is
probable she suggested a plan of escape to him.

It is certain she brought him a large sum of money. How it was employed
can only be conjectured, though we do not think we shall be far wrong
in asserting that a considerable portion of it found its way into the
pockets of Mr. Pitts.

By whatever means he procured them, and, as we have intimated, suspicion
attached to the governor, Forster obtained false keys, and they were
successfully employed by him immediately after a bill of high treason
had been found against him.

The comedy, it must be owned, was well played. On the night of his
evasion, Forster invited Sir Francis Anderton, who was likewise a
prisoner in Newgate, to sup with him, and they sat together carousing to
a late hour.

They were still enjoying themselves when the governor came in to remind
them that it was not far from midnight. Forster begged him to sit down,
as he wished him to taste some very fine old brandy, and stepped into
the adjoining chamber to fetch the bottle.

Apparently, he could not find what he sought, for he did not immediately
return, and the governor, feigning to become alarmed, went to look after
him.

The prisoner was gone, and had evidently made his exit by the door
communicating with the passage, which ought to have been locked outside.

Indeed it was locked, as was the door of the other room, for when the
governor hurried thither, and tried to get out, he found himself a
prisoner.

The consternation into which Mr. Pitts was thrown by this discovery,
if not real, was extremely well simulated, and imposed upon Sir Francis
Anderton, who, however, laughed very heartily.

The governor knocked against the door, and shouted loudly for
assistance, but some minutes elapsed before the turnkey came, and then
it was found that a double-lock had been placed outside.

Search was made for the fugitive, but no traces whatever could be found
of him.

Every door through which he had to pass had been unlocked and
re-fastened, and if their statements were to be credited, not one of the
turnkeys had seen him pass out of the prison.

How he got through the lodge--how he passed the usually vigilant porter
at the gate--has never been satisfactorily explained!

But it is certain he proceeded to Blackfriars, where he found Dorothy
waiting for him.

She had hired a boat for Gravesend, whence her brother embarked before
dawn for France. Dorothy, however, did not accompany him in his flight.

A reward of one thousand pounds was immediately offered for Forster’s
apprehension, but he was safe on the other side of the Channel.

Mr. Pitts was tried for his life at the Old Bailey for conniving at
Forster’s escape, but was acquitted.



VI. BRIGADIER MACKINTOSH’S ESCAPE

|OWING to his prodigious strength and daring, Brigadier Mackintosh was
more feared than any other of the rebels confined in Newgate, and it was
deemed necessary to place him in irons.

Highly indignant at such treatment, he complained of it in the strongest
terms to the governor, but was told it was done by the express order of
Lord Townshend.

“His lordship wishes to inflict a disgrace upon me,” he said; “but he
simply dishonours himself by treating a Highland commander like a common
felon. Tell his lordship his contemptible fetters will not prevent my
escape.”

After Forster’s escape, which had caused an extraordinary sensation
throughout London, the vigilance of the jailers was doubled, and
Brigadier Mackintosh delayed the execution of the daring project he had
conceived till the latest moment.

Not till the night before his trial was fixed to take place at
Westminster Hall did he make the attempt.

Already he had partly sawn through the hateful fetters, so that he could
cast them off in a moment, and they were now rather advantageous to him
than otherwise, as they procured him greater freedom.

Colonel Mackintosh, who was likewise a prisoner, Charles Wogan, Robert
Hepburn of Keith, with several others, chiefly Scotsmen, were to be
partners in the flight, but the entire conduct of the enterprise was
left to the brigadier himself.

About eleven o’clock at night, Mackintosh, having freed himself from his
irons, cautiously descended the stairs leading from the upper ward to
the press-yard, and stationed himself at the door.

His friends remained in the dormitory, but were ready to join him in a
moment.

Presently the door was unlocked, as he expected it would be, by the
governor’s black servant, Caliban, bearing a lantern.

Caliban was a powerful fellow, but no match for the brigadier, who
seized him by the throat with a gripe like that of a vice, and hurled
him to the ground.

The cries of the half-strangled black brought the governor, and Mr.
Ballard, the head turnkey, to the spot.

They were struck with amazement at seeing the brigadier, but did not
dare to grapple with him, now that he was free from his irons.

Leaving them to be dealt with by his followers, who were now thronging
the press-room, the brigadier hurried on--his object being to disarm the
sentinel.

Before the man could raise the musket to his shoulder, Mackintosh sprang
upon him like a tiger, and forced the weapon from his grasp, while young
Hepburn pinioned the man’s arms.

Meantime, Ballard had been deprived of his keys, and he and Mr.
Pitts were thrust through the door leading to the staircase from the
press-room, and locked out.

The porter in the lodge alone remained--at least, it was thought so by
the fugitives--but he chanced to have a watchman with him at the time,
and this gossiping guardian of the night, hearing the disturbance,
endeavoured to rush out and spring his rattle.

But he was caught and deprived of his coat, lantern, and hat by the
brigadier, who thought the disguise might prove serviceable to some of
his followers.

In another minute the fugitives were out in the street, which was
fortunately quite deserted at the time, and the lodge gate being locked
outside, immediate pursuit was impossible.

Bidding each other a hasty farewell, the fugitives then separated, each
seeking the asylum which he knew had been provided for him.

Mr. Hepburn was uncertain where to go, when a light in a window at that
late hour attracted his attention, and he perceived an antique silver
tankard of peculiar shape, which he knew belonged to his family.

Without hesitation he entered the house and found his wife, who had
placed the cup in the window, hoping it might catch his eye.

Forster’s flight from Newgate was completely eclipsed by that of
Brigadier Mackintosh and his companions.

That the first escape had been effected by bribery, very few persons
doubted; but this was a bold dashing affair, well calculated to excite
public admiration, and nothing else was talked about for a few days.

As previously mentioned, the trial of the rebels was to have taken place
in Westminster Hall on the following day. The court and juries met, but
no prisoners were forthcoming, and an adjournment took place; but though
a reward of one thousand pounds was offered for the apprehension of the
brigadier, and five hundred pounds for each of his associates, they were
not retaken.

After a temporary concealment, Mackintosh succeeded in making his escape
to France, where he remained for several years; but being unable to
resist the impulse to revisit his native land, he ventured back to
Scotland--a very hazardous step to take, since, being an outlaw, he was
excluded from the benefit of the Act of Indemnity.

The consequence was that the veteran warrior spent the remainder of his
life as a prisoner in Edinburgh Castle.

It is not our intention to follow the executioners in their sanguinary
circuit through Lancashire--not shall we even particularise the
insurgents who suffered the utmost rigour of the law at Lancaster,
Garstang, Preston, Wigan, Liverpool, and Manchester--but we will halt
for a moment at the latter place to allude to Tom Syddall, who was
barbarously put to death with four or five others at Knot Mill. His case
may stand for all the rest, since it was in no respect exceptional.

Taken on a hurdle to the gallows, partly hanged--but not till life was
extinct, he was drawn and quartered, and his head fixed on the market
cross.

Such was the punishment inflicted upon all the rebels of lower rank, who
were not transported to the colonies.

END OF COOK THE TENTH,



_BOOK THE ELEVENTH_--THE SCAFFOLD.

[Illustration: 0312]



I.--THE LAST PARTING BETWEEN THE EARL OF DERWENT-WATER AND THE COUNTESS.

|The last sad parting between the Earl of Dervventwater and the countess
must now be detailed.

The interview took place in the prison-chamber in the Devereux Tower,
and on the day before the execution.

After his condemnation, the earl had passed most of his time in prayer,
and had so completely succeeded in reconciling himself to his fate, that
he forbade the countess to make any further efforts for his deliverance.
Indeed, after the escapes that had taken place, any fresh attempt would
have been futile.

The unhappy countess was staying at Dagenham Park, an old manorial
mansion, near Romford in Essex, belonging to a Roman Catholic family,
and she came over every day to the Tower, accompanied by Father Norham,
in the hope of seeing her husband.

Latterly, permission had been refused her, but, on the day before the
execution, she was allowed to visit him with the priest.

Not having seen him for a few days, she was much struck by the change
in his appearance. His countenance had a very serene expression. All
trouble had vanished from it, and it was plain from his looks that his
thoughts were fixed on high.

“You have no longer any fear of death, I perceive, my son,” said Father
Norham.

“I have no desire for life, father,” he replied. “I am better prepared
to die than I might be at a future time, were my days prolonged.”

“I shall soon rejoin you, my lord,” said the countess.

“No, live!--I would have you live,” he cried. “You are young,
beautiful--and I trust have many years of happiness before you. I would
not have them abridged. But think of me always--think how fondly I have
loved you--think how entirely happy I have been in your society. Never
for a single moment has my heart swerved from its devotion to you. Fate
has separated us for a time--but it was against my will. My love has
been sacrificed to my sense of duty.”

“I know it, my dearest lord,” she cried, with a look of anguish. “Oh!
how bitterly I reproach myself that I urged you to join this fatal
expedition. Would I could recall the past! Would we could be at Dilston
together as in former days! Never! never should you leave it! But I must
not speak of the past.”

“Nay, it does not pain me,” said the earl tenderly. “Let us quit his
dungeon for a moment in thought, and transport ourselves to Dilston. Let
us stand together--as we have so often stood--upon the terrace, and gaze
upon the far-spreading prospect. Ah! the scene rises before me, as I
speak! We are in the glen, wandering by the side of the stream. We are
in the forest, and I enter the Maiden’s Walk, and receive a warning.”

“What more?” cried the countess.

“Nothing,” replied the earl. “The vision has disappeared. Alas! my sweet
love, Dilston will be yours no more. The house you have brightened with
your presence will be taken from you. I cannot bequeath it to you. Yet
I should wish to be laid with my fathers in the vault beneath the little
chapel.”

“It shall be done, my dearest lord,” she cried earnestly. “Your wishes
shall be fulfilled.”

“I do not think that resting-place will be denied me,” said the earl.

“Have no fear, my lord,” said Father Norham. “The malice of your enemies
will not extend to that length. All shall be done as you desire. When
the tragedy is over, the body shall be conveyed by slow stages--and
only by night--to Dilston. During the day it shall rest in some Catholic
chapel, and masses shall be said.”

“I will accompany it, and see the last sad rites performed,” said the
countess.

“You give me inexpressible comfort,” said the earl. “It was the sole
request I had to prefer.”

Shortly afterwards the earl retired with Father Norham into the cell
adjoining the prison-chamber, where the priest heard his confession, and
gave him absolution.

During this interval, the countess knelt down and prayed fervently.

At length, the earl came forth, and she arose, perceiving from his looks
that the moment of parting was come.

He extended his arms, and flying towards him, she was clasped to his
breast.

Thus they remained for some minutes amid a silence, broken only by her
sobs.

He then made a slight effort to loosen her embrace, but she clung to him
even more tenaciously.

“We must part, my best beloved,” he said, printing a kiss upon her brow.

“Oh! I knew not the anguish of this hour,” she cried. “Would my heart
would break and relieve me!”

“For your husband’s sake, calm yourself, dear daughter, I implore you!”
 said the priest.

But her grief was too violent to be restrained, and a paroxysm ensued
that found vent in a fearful shriek, that burst through the grated
windows of the fortification, and almost froze the blood of such as
heard it.

She then became insensible.

On regaining consciousness, she no longer beheld her husband. She
had parted from him for ever. She had been carefully removed to the
Lieutenant’s lodgings, where restoratives were applied.

As soon as her strength permitted, she left the Tower with Father
Norham, and returned to Dagenham Park; feeling as if her heart were
broken.



II.--HOW LORD WIDDRINGTON TOOK A LAST LEAVE OF THE EARL OF DERWENTWATER.

|GLOOMY was the morn, and in unison with the sombre deed about to take
place.

Already a scaffold, draped in black, on which the Earl of Derwentwater
and Lord Kenmure were to pay the forfeit of their lives, had been
erected on Tower-hill.

At an early hour three strong detachments of Life Guards marched from
Whitehall, and posted themselves round the scaffold.

At the same time, a crowd of curious observers of both sexes began to
assemble, and increased so rapidly that within an hour the whole summit
of the eminence was densely thronged.

Some sympathy was expressed for the unfortunate lords about to suffer,
but it would almost seem that the majority of the spectators were drawn
thither by curiosity rather than by any other feeling.

Like all other crowds they exhibited great impatience because they
supposed they were kept waiting, and manifested their displeasure by
groaning at the Life Guards, who, however, treated them with supreme
contempt.

Not till ten o’clock did the sheriffs make their appearance, and way was
cleared for them by their guard through the crowd. They proceeded to the
Transport Office--a building at the rear of the scaffold--where rooms
were prepared for those about to die.

At the same time, a bell within the Tower began to toll, and almost
immediately afterwards, a party of grenadiers issued from the Bulwark
Gate, followed by two hackney-coaches, in which were the condemned
nobles and their chaplains.

With Lord Derwentwater was Father Norham; with Lord Kenmure was the
Reverend Mr. Sharp, a Presbyterian minister.

On either side of the coaches marched javelin men to keep off the crowd.

Had not Lord Derwentwater been attended by a

Romish priest, his youth and good looks would have excited extraordinary
sympathy among the beholders, but the sight of Father Norham irritated
them, and they expressed their hatred of Popery by hootings. Lord
Der-wentwater seemed wholly undisturbed by the clamour.

Lord Kenmure met with a much better reception, and Mr. Sharp contrived
to let the mob know that his lordship held Popery in abomination.

In this manner the two lords were conducted to the Transport Office,
where they alighted, and were separately conducted to their rooms.

In the room prepared for the Earl of Derwentwater, Lord Widdrington, who
had been reprieved, was waiting to take a last leave of his friend, and
was so deeply affected that Father Norham deemed it advisable that the
interview should not be prolonged.

While bidding farewell to the earl, Lord Widdrington said, in accents of
profound emotion:

“Were I to live a thousand years I should never forget you! You will
always remain to me an example of fortitude and resignation. Your
heroism makes me regret that I have accepted life, since it would be a
privilege to die with you. I need not wish you firmness at the last, for
I know you will not want it.”

With this, he embraced him, and left the room.



III.--HOW THE EARL OF DERWENTWATER WAS BEHEADED.

|Lord Derwentwater then addressed himself to his devotions, and remained
in earnest prayer with Father Norham, till the hour approached, when the
good priest thus recommended his soul to heaven.

“When thy soul shall depart from thy body, may thy Redeemer appear to
thee, and appoint thee a place amongst those who are to stand before him
for ever.”

The earl then rose, and since the priest was not allowed to be with him
to the last, he bade him an eternal adieu.

Just then, the door was opened, and Sir John Fryer, one of the sheriffs,
came in, and, with a grave salutation, inquired if he was ready.

“Perfectly,” replied Lord Derwentwater.

Casting a farewell look at the good priest, he then followed the
sheriff, who marched before him with his men, through two lines of
foot-guards to the scaffold.

All was prepared.

The executioner was standing beside the block with the axe in his hand.

Not far from him were two assistants, and near them was the coffin.

A slight murmur arose from the vast concourse as the Earl of
Derwentwater appeared on the scaffold, but it was a murmur of
admiration--all being struck by his slight, graceful figure, seen to the
greatest advantage in his black velvet attire.

“May I say a few words to the assemblage, Sir John?” asked the earl.

“Assuredly, my lord,” replied the sheriff.

The earl then advanced towards the rail of the scaffold, and as it was
evident he was about to address them, the concourse became instantly
silent, and every eye was fixed upon him.

In a clear voice, that was heard afar, and vibrated through the breasts
of all near to him, he thus spoke:

“Being in a few minutes about to appear before the tribunal of Heaven,
where, though most unworthy, I hope to find mercy which I have not found
from men in power, I have endeavoured to make my peace by humbly begging
pardon for all the sins of my life.

“I have never had any other sovereign save King James the Third, whom
I have served from infancy; and if his religion had been different from
mine, I should still have done all I could for him, as my ancestors did
for his predecessors. I intended wrong to none, and only to serve my
king and country, and if the sacrifice of my life could contribute to
that end, I shall consider it well paid.

“I die a Roman Catholic, and in perfect charity with all the world,
even with those most instrumental in my destruction, and I hope to be
forgiven the trespasses of my youth by the Father of Infinite Mercy,
into whose hands I commend my spirit.”

Delivered as we have described, this brief address produced a powerful
effect upon the multitude, and however much they might differ from the
earl, they could not help admiring his constancy.

As he retired, a loud wail arose from the female portion of the
spectators.

“My lord,” observed Sir John Fryer, “I must beg you now to prepare
yourself.”

“Grant me a few moments more,” said the earl.

And the request being accorded, he knelt down and prayed fervently.

Shortly afterwards, he arose, and stepped towards the executioner, one
of whose men would have helped him to take off a portion of his attire,
but he refused the assistance.

The executioner then besought his forgiveness.

“With all my heart,” replied the earl. “I forgive all my enemies--even
the most malicious of them--and I forgive you.”

Seeing the man look hard at him, he added:

“Thou wilt find a purse in my pocket. ‘Tis thine with its contents.”

“I thank your lordship. Will you now try how the block fits you?”

Thereupon the earl made the essay.

Apparently satisfied, he turned to the executioner, and said:

“Is thine axe sharp?”

“So sharp that it will take off a head at a blow. I pray your lordship
to feel the edge.”

“Nay, I shall feel it soon enough,” replied the earl with a slight
shudder.

After a momentary pause, he added:

“I would die with the holiest name on my lips. When I have thrice
pronounced it, strike!”

“My lord, I will not fail,” said the headsman.

Laying himself upon the block, the earl then ejaculated:

“Lord Jesu! receive my spirit! Lord Jesu! be merciful to me! Lord
Jesu!----”

At this juncture the axe descended.

Next moment the head was held up to the concourse, while the executioner
called out in trumpet tones:

“Behold the head of a traitor! God save King George!”

An irrepressible groan broke from the concourse.

The body was instantly placed in the coffin, and conveyed to a hearse,
which was waiting for it at a short distance.

But the head was disposed of differently. Wrapped in black baize by the
direction of Sir John Fryer, it was taken to a hackney-coach, stationed
near the hearse, and delivered to a lady, habited in deep mourning, and
shrouded in a veil. With her was a priest.

No sooner did she receive the terrible bundle than she raised her veil,
and pressed her lips to it.

The hearse and the coach then quitted Tower Hill, and were driven slowly
to Dagenham Park.

But the headsman had only half-finished his task.

When fresh sawdust had been strewn on the gory scaffold, another
head--that of Lord Kenmure--was fitted to the block, and the axe again
fell.



IV.--WHAT HAPPENED IN THE CHAPEL AT DAGENHAM PARK.

|Not till the second night after the earl’s body had been brought to
Dagenham Park did the countess commence her journey to Dilston.

During the interval the coffin was placed upon a catafalque in
the chapel attached to the mansion, and tapers were lighted around
it--masses being said for the repose of the soul of the departed by
Father Norham.

The head had now been replaced by the body, but the countess would not
allow the coffin to be closed, and at night she was left alone in the
chapel.

After praying for some time she arose and gazing at her dead lord,
invoked him either to appear to her, or give her some sign that he was
conscious of her presence.

But the pale features retained their fixed expression.

After awhile, she sat down, and despite all her efforts to resist it,
sleep stole over he.

Then she dreamed that the earl stood beside her, looking as he had done
in life.

After contemplating her for a few minutes with a look that seemed to
fascinate her, he said in low solemn accents:

“Weep no more for me, Anna! weep no more! my suffering is over. But let
my last wishes be fulfilled. Till my body is laid where I have desired,
my spirit will wander near its earthly tabernacle. Then it will rest.”

“Give me some token that I have really beheld you, my lord,” she said.

“Look at my right hand, and you will be satisfied,” was the reply.

Thereupon the phantom vanished.

Not for some hours could she rouse herself from the heavy slumber into
which she had fallen. She then recalled the vision, but thought it must
have been a dream.

To convince herself of the truth she went to the coffin, and raised the
right hand of the corpse.

On one of the fingers was a ring which she had not observed before.
Removing it, she placed it on her own finger.

Reluctant to allude to the mysterious occurrence, she did not even
mention it to Father Norham.

Next day she was joined by Dorothy Forster, who desired to accompany her
to Dilston.



V.--THE JOURNEY TO DILSTON.

|At the head of the funeral procession rode the faithful Newbiggin.

Then followed the hearse drawn by four horses, with the coachman and two
assistants, and lastly came the countess in a carriage likewise drawn by
four horses. With her were Dorothy Forster, and Father Norham.

The night was dark on which they set forth, and they tracked many weary
miles through country roads, making slow progress, but meeting, with
no hindrance, till towards dawn, they halted at a large mansion near
Chelmsford belonging to a Roman Catholic gentleman, where they halted
and remained during the day--the coffin being removed from the hearse,
and placed in a small private chapel, where tapers were lighted, and
masses said as at Dagenham.

Here the day was passed.

On the second night, they proceeded to Cambridge--and on the third to a
mansion near Saint Ives, in Huntingdonshire.

Thence they moved on to Peterborough.

In this manner they pursued the road towards Newcastle, journeying
entirely by night, and halting during the day at some Roman Catholic
mansion, where hospitality was afforded them, and where religious rites
could be performed.

It was a long, long journey. But the countess did not find it wearisome.
Rather she grieved to think it must soon be ended.

She derived great solace from the affectionate companionship of Dorothy
Forster.

Seven nights had thus been passed in travel, and they were proceeding on
the eighth night from Thirsk towards Darlington, when a horseman rode up
to the carriage.

At first his appearance caused alarm, but fear quickly gave way to
surprise when they found it was Charles Radclyffe. They knew he had
escaped from prison, but supposed he was in France.

He entered into no explanation then, but contented himself with saying
that he should accompany them to Dilston, and rode on with Newbiggin.

At Darlington he had a private interview with Dorothy, and told her that
he could not leave England without seeing her again, and besought her to
accompany him in his flight.

“This is not the moment to urge my suit,” he said; “but I have no
option. Will you fly with me? Will you embrace the fortunes of a ruined
man?”

“I cannot decide now,” she replied. “You shall have an answer at
Dilston.”

From her grave manner Charles had very little hope of a favourable
response.

The journey occupied two more nights, but on the third morning, they
came in sight of Dilston.

Newbiggin had ridden on to prepare the household, and Charles Radclyffe
did not think it safe to accompany the procession, though fully
intending to be present at the interment.



VI.--THE INTERMENT.

|THOUGH it was known that the earl’s estates were forfeited, the
confiscation had not yet taken place, and, consequently, the household
still remained at Dilston.

Ever since the execution they had been filled with superstitious dread.

On the evening of that terrible day, most remarkable Northern Lights
were seen, and the reflection of the crimson sky seemed to turn the
water of the brook in the haunted glen to blood.

Next day, a violent tempest occurred, accompanied by thunder and
lightning.

Several trees were blown down, and the finest oak in the park was
struck--the trunk being completely shattered.

All the household was now assembled to watch the funeral procession as
it made its way slowly up the avenue.

Groans and lamentations were heard when the hearse arrived at the gate,
and the coffin was taken out, and conveyed to the little chapel.

Not till this had been done did the countess and Dorothy enter the
mansion.

Completely prostrated, they strove to prepare themselves for the closing
ceremonial that was to take place at midnight.

A doleful place was Dilston during that day. Its inmates were bowed down
with grief, and moved about like ghosts.

All needful preparations for the interment were made by Newbiggin.

The vault was opened. The coffin was laid upon a bier not far from the
altar; and tapers were lighted around it.

Many of the old servants and dependents, among whom were Nicholas
Ribbleton and Nathan Blacklaw, went to the chapel to pray beside the
body of their lord.

Not till night did Charles Radclyffe appear at the castle.

He sought out Dorothy and said to her:

“I shall quit Dilston immediately after the interment. Will you go with
me?”

“I cannot leave Lady Derwentwater,” she replied.

Nothing more was said.

At midnight the little chapel was filled with the late earl’s retainers.

The countess and Dorothy knelt in front of the altar, and Charles
Radclyffe and Newbiggin were stationed near the coffin.

The solemn service was performed by Father Norham, and amid the tears of
all present the last Lord of Derwentwater was laid with his ancestors.

_Tantum valet Amor Regis et Patriæ._

THE END.





*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Preston Fight; or, The Insurrection of 1715" ***

Copyright 2023 LibraryBlog. All rights reserved.