Book the Fifth.

CHAPTER I.

BY WHOM THE TWO SPIES WERE PUT TO FLIGHT.

In order that they might watch the proceedings of the two spies, Father Huddlestone took the king to his own room, the windows of which commanded the rear of the house. For a few minutes nothing could be seen of the troopers, and the watchers began to think they must have departed, when the two men were observed creeping stealthily past the outbuildings on the left. Both being on foot, it seemed clear that they designed to enter the house.

Becoming seriously alarmed, Father Huddlestone besought the king to retire to his hiding-place, while he himself called up Mr. Whitgreave, when the clatter of horses' hoofs was heard rapidly approaching, and almost immediately afterwards Charles and his companion perceived two horsemen enter the close known as Allport's Leasow.

As a matter of course, the arrival of the horsemen had been heard by the troopers as well as by the king and his companion, and alarmed by the untoward circumstance, the Roundheads abandoned their design upon the house, and hurriedly made for the spot where Madmannah had tied up his horse. This was a gate opening upon the close, but before they could reach it, they were confronted by the horsemen, who drew their swords, and prepared to attack them, thus clearly proving themselves to be Royalists.

As an answer to this threat of the Cavaliers, Ezra discharged his carabine at the foremost of them, but evidently without effect, for the individual he had aimed at uttered a fierce exclamation, and would certainly have cut down the trooper, if the gate had not hindered him, and during the time required to force it open, Ezra had made good his retreat. Nor did Madmannah stand his ground. When his comrade took to his heels, he fled likewise, and they both sought refuge in the grove that skirted the close. Here they were quickly pursued by the Cavaliers, who did not rest till they had driven them away from the house, Madmannah's horse being seized upon as lawful spoil by the victors.

Charles and Father Huddlestone were still standing at the window looking out upon the scene, though all those engaged in the conflict had disappeared, when Mr. Whitgreave, who had been roused by the report of the carabine, entered the room, and learnt what had occurred.

"Who can those Cavaliers be?" inquired the king. "'Tis strange they should have arrived so opportunely."

"Perhaps Major Careless has returned, my liege, and has brought Colonel Lane with him," observed Mr. Whitgreave. "No other persons would be likely to come here to-night. I will go forth and see."

Mr. Whitgreave's conjecture proved correct. By the time he reached the close, Careless and Colonel Lane had returned to it, and they then explained that they had come to conduct the king to Bentley House.

"I do not think his majesty could safely remain here another day, Mr. Whitgreave," said Colonel Lane. "I have been given to understand that Captain Stone, the governor of Stafford Castle, intends to search this house to-morrow, and to bring Southall, the redoubted priest-catcher, with him. It seems quite certain that, in some way or other, the king has been tracked to Moseley Hall, and I am therefore of opinion that he ought to change his quarters without delay."

"I do not believe that even Southall will discover the hiding-places in my house," rejoined Whitgreave. "Still, the king ought not to be exposed to any risk that can be avoided; and if you are prepared to receive him at Bentley House, I think he had best go there to-night. At all events, after what you tell me of Captain Stone's threatened visit, I should not dare to oppose the plan."

Mr. Whitgreave then returned to the house, and told the king what he had seen and heard.

"Your two faithful adherents are waiting to take you hence, sire," he said. "Colonel Lane affirms," he added, with a sigh, "that my house is no longer a safe place of refuge for your majesty, and though I cannot agree with him, I will not urge you to stay."

"I did not expect this sudden summons, I confess, Mr. Whitgreave," rejoined the king; "and I need not say it is far from agreeable to me. But I have no option. From the appearance of those two spies I am convinced that my retreat has been discovered, and if Colonel Lane had not come for me, I should have deemed it prudent, to leave before daybreak. I hope you will not suffer for the devotion you have shown me. But I shall ever remain your debtor." Then, turning to Father Huddlestone, he added, "it might be enough for me to tell you that I shall always think the better of your religion since I have seen how well you practise it, but when I reflect on the many good and faithful subjects you have brought me in these evil times, when almost every hand is raised against me, I feel that I should be ungrateful if I did not say how deeply I am beholden to you. You have made the Penderels what they are, and what I have found them—the truest men living."

"Through Heaven's grace I have made them what they ought to be, my liege," said Father Huddlestone. "I have always striven against those who have sought to overthrow the throne. It is possible that Heaven may have further trials in store for your majesty, to which I earnestly exhort you to submit with patience, but I feel assured that in due season you will be amply rewarded. Place your trust in Heaven, sire, and you will be delivered from your enemies. It may be long ere you regain your kingdom, but the day will come—provided you are true to Heaven. Forsake not God, and you shall not be forsaken!"

Charles remained silent for a few moments, and then said in a low tone:

"I will strive to follow your counsel, father."

The king was still pondering on what had been said to him, when Mrs. Whitgreave, bearing a taper, entered the room. Robed in white, and looking excessively pale, she looked like an apparition.

Advancing to meet her, Charles said:

"I should have been sorry to quit Moseley Hall without bidding you adieu, madam, but I trust you have not been disturbed from your slumbers on my account."

"I keep long vigils, sire, and often pass the greater part of the night in prayer," she replied. "When my son tapped at my door just now to inform me that your majesty was about to depart, I was praying for your safety."

"I thank you, madam," replied the king, much moved. "The prayers of so excellent a lady must avail me."

"If I live to see your majesty restored to your kingdom, I shall have lived long enough. Here is a little relic," she said, offering him a small silver box. "I dare say your majesty has no faith in such things—nevertheless, I pray you to wear it."

"I will wear it for your sake, madam," he rejoined, taking the little silver box, "and I shall have no doubt of its efficacy."

Charles would then have taken leave of the loyal-hearted dame, but she besought permission to attend him to the outer door.

Accordingly, the whole party quitted the room, and proceeding as noiselessly as possible, descended the great oak staircase to the hall, where Charles bade adieu to the excellent old lady, and quitted the house, attended by his host and Father Huddlestone.

Left by herself, Mrs. Whitgreave's strength almost forsook her. On regaining her own chamber, she knelt down before a crucifix, placed in a small recess, and again offered up prayers for the king's deliverance from his enemies.

Meanwhile, Charles had proceeded to Allport's Leasow, where he found his faithful adherents waiting for him, and saluted them most cordially.

"I did not expect you quite so soon, Colonel Lane," he said. "But you have arrived in the very nick of time. Without you and Careless we might have had some trouble with those rascally troopers."

"I am only sorry they escaped us," replied Colonel Lane.

"Here is the horse we have taken, my liege," said Careless, who had dismounted, and was holding both steeds by the bridle. "Will you mount him? 'Twill be a good jest to say that I have taken the rogue's horse."

"Oddsfish! the horse is well enough," cried Charles, as he vaulted into the saddle. "These Roundhead knaves have robbed all the best stables."

The party being now ready to set forth, Mr. Whitgreave approached the king, and asked if his majesty had any further commands for him.

"My last injunctions to you are, Mr. Whitgreave, that you come to me at Whitehall, and bring Father Huddlestone with you. I defer all expression of my thanks till I see you both there. May the good time arrive speedily!"

After receiving the good priest's valedictory benediction, he rode out of the close with his attendants.

At first, the party proceeded at a foot's pace, and they had not gone far, when the king halted for a moment to gaze at the old mansion, which was seen to the greatest advantage on that bright moonlight night. It looked so hushed in repose that no one would have dreamed that its quietude could have been recently disturbed.

But Charles was not allowed to indulge his meditations long. Colonel Lane was impatient to be gone, and after another look at the picturesque old mansion, the king was obliged to bid farewell to Moseley Hall.

CHAPTER II.

HOW THE KING ARRIVED AT BENTLEY HOUSE.

The night was so enchanting, that although the king was not without apprehensions of a chance encounter with the enemy, he greatly enjoyed his ride. Moreover, he was very well pleased with the trooper's horse on which he was mounted.

Colonel Lane acted as leader of the party, and took them across a common, now known as Cooke's Gorse, past Essington Mill, and then over another common to Allen's Rough. More heath still lay before them, and having traversed a very wild district, they reached an extensive coppice, which formed part of Colonel Lane's own estate. During the whole ride, they had scarcely seen a habitation, and had not encountered a single individual. Deeming the danger over, Colonel Lane slackened his pace, and began to converse with the king, telling his majesty that he thought his horse had gone remarkably well.

"I think so too, colonel," replied Charles. "What is more, I am of opinion that this is not the first time I have ridden him."

"Indeed, sire!" exclaimed Colonel Lane, in surprise.

"Unless I am greatly mistaken, this is the very horse I rode from Worcester to White Ladies. I know his action. How say you, Careless?"

"It certainly did not occur to me before, my liege," replied Careless. "But now I look at the horse more closely I believe your majesty is right."

"You will be able to settle the question, Colonel Lane," observed Charles. "I gave the Worcester horse to you at White Ladies. What became of him afterwards?"

"I lost him in the fight near Newport, where Lord Derby was worsted by Lilburn and Colonel James. Possibly he may have fallen into the hands of one of the troopers."

"It must be so," exclaimed Charles. "Oddsfish! 'tis a strange circumstance. Now that I have got the horse again, I will not part with him if I can help it."

"Doubtless, he is well worth keeping," observed Careless; "but he may be recognised by the rascally trooper, and the discovery would endanger your majesty."

"The risk is so slight that I shall not heed it," said Charles.

Passing through the coppice they soon afterwards entered a park, in the midst of which stood Bentley House.

This fine old mansion has been since pulled down, and replaced by a modern structure, which, though handsome and commodious, does not of course possess the historic interest of the earlier building. With its ornamented gables, projections, and large windows, Bentley House presented a very imposing front, but it was at the back that the party arrived, and as they rode into the court-yard, a faithful groom, who was waiting for his master's return, came forth from the stables with a lantern and took charge of the horses. Whatever he thought, this trusty fellow manifested no surprise that the colonel and Careless should have a common woodman in their company.

"My man, Lutwyche, thinks you are a fugitive Cavalier, sire," remarked Colonel Lane. "He is thoroughly honest and loyal, but I do not mean to trust him with the great secret. Thank Heaven I have brought your majesty here in safety, and I trust no harm will befal you while you are my guest. You may sleep soundly, for I shall remain on guard during the remainder of the night. It distresses me that I am obliged to offer you such poor accommodation, but if a larger room were assigned you suspicion would be excited. At any rate, you will be more comfortably lodged than in the secret closet at Boscobel House."

"Pray make no apologies, colonel," said Charles. "The size of the room is a matter of perfect indifference to me. Put me where you please."

Entering by the back door, they then proceeded to Colonel Lane's study, where they found Lord Wilmot, who was delighted to see the king, and congratulated him on his safe arrival. Being much fatigued, Charles begged to be conducted to his room without delay; whereupon Colonel Lane, with a thousand apologies, took him to a small chamber at the top of the house. Small as it was, the couch appeared extremely comfortable to the wearied monarch, who sank into a deep, unbroken slumber, from which he was aroused by Careless. Fain would he have slept a few hours longer; but that was quite impossible, as Careless informed him.

"It appears to me," said Careless, seating himself at the king's bedside, "that your majesty does not exactly comprehend what you will have to do, and I think I had better explain matters to you. In the first place, Mistress Jane Lane sets out early this morning on the pretext of a visit to her relatives the Nortons, of Abbots Leigh, and you will attend her in the capacity of groom."

"But Abbots Leigh is near Bristol," said the king. "She cannot possibly get there to-day."

"She has no such intention," replied Careless. "She will proceed first to Packington Hall, where a halt will be made for an hour or so. Sir Clement Fisher has been apprised of the visit, and will be prepared for your majesty's reception."

"Good," said the king, "I shall be glad to see Sir Clement. But where am I to rest for the night?"

"At Long Marston, near Stratford-on-Avon, the residence of Mr. Tombs, who is a near relative of the Lanes and a staunch adherent of your majesty."

"Mr. Tombs is a true man—of that I am quite sure," rejoined Charles. "I shall be quite content to stay at his house."

"Your majesty, I think, understands that Mistress Jane Lane has got a pass for herself and her servant?"

"Yes. I am to be her groom. I quite understand it. Did you imagine I could have any disinclination for the part, after all I have gone through? I shall be delighted to act as groom to so charming a person as Jane Lane."

"Then I may as well state, without further preamble, that I have brought your majesty a costume suitable to the part you will have to enact—grey doublet and hose, as you will see. The garments were made for Colonel Lane's groom, Lutwyche—but I am sure they will fit you. Here are boots and a hat to complete the disguise. The arrangement appears to me extremely pleasant, and I should be very happy to take your majesty's place, if I were permitted."

"Are you to be left behind with Lord Wilmot?" asked the king.

"No, sire," replied Careless. "His lordship and myself will attend you—but at a respectful distance. You will be accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Petre. Mrs. Petre, I must inform your majesty, is Jane Lane's sister. It is proper you should know that neither Mrs. Petre nor her husband have the slightest idea that they will have the honour of attending upon your majesty."

The king then arose, and assisted by Careless, put on the suit of dark grey cloth provided for him. When he was fully equipped, he said to Careless:

"How think you, Will? Shall I pass muster? Do I look like a groom?"

"Your appearance is all that can be desired, my liege," replied Careless. "But you must take care not to betray yourself by any inadvertence. Come down to the stables with me, and I will get Lutwyche to give you some instructions in the part you will have to play."

"Oddsfish! I flatter myself I can groom a horse," cried Charles. "'Tis true I have not had much practice."

"You will be none the worse for a lesson, my liege," said Careless. "This woodman's garb must not be seen," he added, putting the disguise abandoned by Charles into a small valise, which he had brought with him. "I must needs ask your majesty to carry this portmanteau. And please to bear in mind, that you are now Will Jones, the son of one of Colonel Lane's tenants."

He then left the room, but had not taken many steps down the staircase, when he called out in a loud voice,

"Art thou coming, Will? Never was there so lazy a rascal."

"I am quite ready, your honour," replied Charles, following with the portmanteau.

CHAPTER III.

HOW WILL JONES FOUND A FRIEND IN THE STABLE.

As they passed through the back part of the house on the way to the stables, they met two or three women-servants, who glanced inquisitively at the new groom, and thought him a good-looking young fellow. In the court-yard they found Colonel Lane and Lord Wilmot. The former was talking with his head falconer, Randal Gates, and telling him that he should require the hawks and spaniels after breakfast.

"I mean to give this gentleman, Mr. Harris," he said, glancing at Lord Wilmot, "a little sport. My sister is going to Long Marston, and we will ride with her as far as Packington Hall."

"The hawks and spaniels shall be ready for you, colonel, whenever you require them, and as there are plenty of partridges in the corn fields, I make no doubt you will be able to show Mr. Harris some good sport."

The falconer then retired, and Colonel Lane turned to bid Careless good morning—glancing significantly at the same time at the king, who stood respectfully aside with his cap in his hand.

"Maybe you don't know me, colonel," said Charles, with an awkward bow.

"Oh! yes, I know thee well enough, Will," replied Colonel Lane. "Thou art David Jones's son, and my sister's new groom. I hope thou wilt serve her well. Put down thy portmanteau and come with me to the stables."

Charles obeyed, and followed Colonel Lane and the others to the stables, which were very large, but there were not many horses in the stalls. Lutwyche came forward as his master entered with the others. He stared when he saw the king in his groom's attire, and a cunning smile lighted up his hard features.

"This is Will Jones, my sister's new groom, Lutwyche," said the colonel. "Explain to him what he will have to do."

"I should guess he has not had much experience, colonel," replied the old groom with a grin. "Mistress Jane, I understand, is going to Bristol, but she has not yet told me which horse she will ride. Her favourite steed has not been right since she returned from Worcester. She can't take him. The horse that came in last night is strong enough to carry double, and I think would do very well."

"Ay, he is a good horse," replied the colonel, in a doubtful tone. "But there are some objections to him."

"I don't see 'em," said the groom. "I wish your honour would just look at him. I fancy he did some hard work yesterday, but he seems quite fresh this morning."

The whole party then went to look at the horse, and he certainly seemed to deserve the groom's praises.

As Charles went into the stall and patted him, the horse turned round and whinnied gently, as if in recognition.

"He knows you, Will Jones," remarked Lutwyche.

"Ay, that's plain enough," replied the king. Then turning to Colonel Lane, he added, "Your honour seems to have some objections to this horse, or I would make bold to recommend him for the journey. Were I allowed the choice, I should prefer him to any other horse in the stable."

"Well, since you like him so much, Will, e'en take him," said the colonel. "My sister ought to have been consulted on the point, but I have no doubt she will be content."

"Here comes the fair lady herself," cried Lord Wilmot, as Jane entered the stable.

While saluting the rest of the party, she looked round for the king, and discovering him, greeted him with a smile.

Charles then came out of the stall, and making a rustic bow, inquired whether she had any commands for him.

"I am glad to find thou hast arrived safely, Will," she said. "But I have no special orders to give thee, except that thou must be ready to start soon after breakfast."

"I shall be ready at any moment you may require me," replied Charles.

"Will this horse suit you, Jane?" asked her brother.

"Perfectly," she replied. "I have been admiring him ever since I came into the stable. Since I cannot have my favourite steed, this will make an excellent substitute. Where did you procure him?"

"Never mind where I got him," replied her brother. "I rode him at Newport, and lost him there, but he has since been captured from a Roundhead trooper, who might recognise him."

After consulting the king by a glance, Jane said, "I will have that horse, and no other."

Colonel Lane shrugged his shoulders and went out of the stables, followed by the others.

As soon as they were gone, Lutwyche said to the king:

"I don't want to know who you are, but I am certain you are not a groom. Go into the house and breakfast comfortably. I will get all ready for the journey."

Charles thanked him heartily, and telling him he placed entire faith in him, quitted the stable, and proceeded to the house.

CHAPTER IV.

HOW WILL JONES BREAKFASTED WITH THE MEN-SERVANTS IN THE BUTTERY.

Entering the buttery hatch, the king found the men-servants assembled at their morning meal. They were breakfasting very substantially on cold roast beef and ale. Concluding that he was the new groom, they asked him to join them, and Mr. March, the butler, who sat at the head of the table, and was treated with much respect by the others, carved him some slices of meat, and bade him fill his cup freely from the big brown jug before him.

"You will find the ale good in this house, young man, I'll warrant you," observed Mr. March, whose stout person showed that he drank plenty of it himself. "We brew no small beer here. You are lucky in getting the place, let me tell you—all the more lucky that our young lady never before had a groom to attend her."

"That's very true, Mr. March," said one of the men. "Mistress Jane would never ride on a pillion with old Lutwyche. This young man may therefore consider himself highly honoured."

"Will Jones I believe is your name," said the butler. "Well, then, Will, you look like an honest young man—a simple young man, I may say—but you may be a very great rogue for all that." Here there was a general laugh, in which Charles himself joined good humouredly. "Nay, I mean no offence," pursued Mr. March. "I repeat, you look like an honest young man, but you may be a Roundhead, and all Roundheads are rogues. Am I not right?" he cried to the others.

General assent to the proposition.

"You see what sort of society you are in, young man, and can draw your own conclusions," pursued the butler. "There may be good fellowship amongst us, or there may not, according as we find you. What are your principles—Royalist or Republican?"

"I am as staunch a Royalist as yourself, Mr. March," rejoined Charles, sturdily.

"Give me your hand. Now that we know your principles, we can trust you, and talk freely. This is a Royalist house. All within it are sworn to the king. Our honoured master, the colonel, fought for his majesty at Worcester, and we should have fought for him had we been there. Our young mistress rendered the king great service."

"Ay, that she did," cried Charles, earnestly—"services he ought never to forget."

"Ay, she's a brave young lady," said March, "and has more spirit in her than many a man. If the king could be saved by a woman, Mistress Jane is the one to do it."

"What has become of the king since Worcester fight?" inquired the supposed groom.

"Thou canst keep a secret, Will Jones?—ha!"

"Ay, marry, can I," was the answer.

"But swear thou wilt not reveal what I shall disclose to thee."

"If an oath be necessary, I swear to keep silence."

"Then learn that his sacred majesty is in this house. He came here yesterday. I recognised him at once, and let him see that I did so."

"Did he admit his high rank?"

"Not exactly—but he didn't deny it. Thou thyself hast seen him and conversed with him!"

Will Jones expressed his astonishment.

"Yes, he went with thee to the stables this morning."

"Was that the king?" cried Will Jones. "I should never have thought it."

"Wherefore not? Undoubtedly the person in question is much handsomer than his majesty is reported, for the Roundheads always paint him in black colours—but 'tis the king I will maintain."

At this moment Careless entered the buttery, and looked around as if in quest of some one.

"'Tis he!" exclaimed the butler, rising.

All the other servants rose at the same time, but Will Jones went on quietly with his breakfast.

"Get up," said March, in a low tone. "I tell thee 'tis the king."

"I am not supposed to know him," replied Will Jones.

"Don't disturb yourselves, I beg," said Careless. "When thou hast finished breakfast, Will, I want to speak to thee."

"I shall have done directly," rejoined the disguised groom, regardless of the butler's glances.

"Was there ever such an oaf!" cried March, in a low voice. "Has your majesty any commands that I can execute?" he added, stepping forward, and making a profound obeisance to Careless.

"Hush!" exclaimed the other. "You will betray me."

"No fear of Will Jones, my liege," rejoined March. "A dolt, but trusty. Your majesty may take him into your confidence."

"He knows who I am, then?" said Careless.

"He does, my liege. I made the revelation to him under a solemn pledge of secrecy. I hope I have not done wrong."

"If a mistake has been made, 'tis too late now to remedy it," said Careless.

"No harm has been done, I can assure your majesty. I'll answer for the young man. Will Jones!" he cried, authoritatively, "dost not perceive that thou art wanted?"

But the obstinate groom refused to move.

"Let him finish his breakfast, and then send him after me to the stables," said Careless, quitting the buttery.

"Is this thy respect for the king, sirrah?" cried March, rushing to the table, and snatching away the plate which the supposed Will Jones had just filled. "Not another mouthful shalt thou eat. After his majesty at once, and crave pardon for thy ill manners."

"He has interfered with my breakfast," grumbled Will Jones.

"Interfered with thee! Thou hast eaten too much already. Begone!"

But the imperturbable Will Jones deliberately filled a horn cup with ale, emptied it, and then marched off, leaving the butler and the other servants perfectly astounded at his coolness.

CHAPTER V.

HOW THEY SET OUT ON THE JOURNEY

About half an hour afterwards, Charles, fully equipped for the journey, rode round from the stables to the front of the house. He was mounted on the horse about which there had been so much discussion, and had a pillion behind him, and a musket at the saddle-bow. He was accompanied by Lutwyche, who was likewise mounted on a "double horse," intended for Mr. Petre and his wife.

It may be incidentally remarked that this sociable and agreeable mode of travelling was customary at the time, and continued to be common enough in certain parts of the country up to the close of the last century, and even later.

Having arrived in the middle of the night, Charles had scarcely seen the old mansion, but while waiting with Lutwyche for the coming forth of the party, he had an opportunity of examining it, and was much struck with its aspect. Ordinarily, it must be owned the house had a somewhat gloomy look, but it was seen to peculiar advantage on that bright and cheerful September morning, and Charles thought he could have passed a few days there very pleasantly, if his enemies would have allowed him.

He was still surveying the house, noting its picturesque outline of gables, when the front door was thrown open by March, the butler, and several persons issued forth. Foremost among them was Mr. Petre, a stout, hearty country gentleman, with nothing very remarkable about him. Mr. Petre was of a good Buckinghamshire family, and was married, as we have already intimated, to Jane Lane's elder sister. He was closely followed by his wife, who possessed considerable personal attractions, and behind Mrs. Petre came Jane Lane and her mother. Mrs. Lane was a sister of Sir Hervey Bagot, of Blithfield, and a very fine old gentlewoman.

The horses were now led to the door, and Mr. and Mrs. Petre having mounted, the king's turn came. He was not very successful in his first essay, and got sharply reprimanded for his awkwardness by Mrs. Lane. Totally unacquainted with the real rank of the supposed groom, the old lady had regarded him curiously, and was quite puzzled by his appearance and manner. She felt sure he did not understand his work, and wondered that Colonel Lane should engage such a man. But when Will Jones in assisting his young mistress to mount her horse, despite all hints given him, offered her the wrong hand, the old lady could no longer contain herself, but called out:

"Why, how now, thou clumsy fellow! Art thou such a block-head as not to know thy right hand from the left? Thou art not fit for thy place."

"Chide him not, dear mother," said Jane. "He has had but little experience."

"So it would appear," replied the old lady, dryly.

"Excuse me, madam, I hope to do better in time," said Charles, modestly. "I shall use my best endeavours to please my young mistress."

And as he spoke he sprang into the saddle with a grace and quickness that surprised the old lady.

"By my troth, now that he has taken his seat on horseback, the fellow looks like a Cavalier," remarked Mr. Petre to his wife.

"Yes; he may not understand the duties of a groom—but he sits a horse well—that's certain," replied Mrs. Petre.

At this juncture, a large party appeared at the other end of the terrace. Colonel Lane came from the stables accompanied by Lord Wilmot and Careless, and followed by Randal, the head falconer, bearing on his wrist a hawk in her hood and bewits. With Randal were two other falconers, one of whom was furnished with a hoop on which two or three hawks were perched, while the other had a hawking-pole and a couple of spaniels in leash.

Of course, Colonel Lane and his friends were on horseback, and the whole party, viewed in connexion with the old mansion, formed a cheerful picture, which the king contemplated with undisguised pleasure.

"Methinks Will Jones would prefer joining that hawking-party to riding on with me," remarked Jane, in a low voice.

Charles sighed, but made no other response.

At this moment Colonel Lane rode up to Mr. Petre, and said:

"Pray don't wait for us. We shall come on slowly, for we may chance on a heron in the park, and we are certain to find plenty of partridges in the corn-fields. We shall always be in your rear as a guard, and if we don't overtake you before, we shall find you at Packington Hall, where you will halt for a couple of hours."

Colonel Lane then rode up to Charles, and said, in a significant tone:

"Should anything happen on the road, Will, turn back and thou wilt find us."

Charles promised obedience, and doffing his cap to Mrs. Lane, who was exchanging adieux with Mr. Petre and his wife, rode on. Colonel Lane and his party did not follow them for some minutes, and by that time those in advance had nearly reached the gates of the park.

"Colonel Lane is equally enthusiastic," remarked Mr. Petre. "In his eyes the king has not a fault."

"He is a brave and chivalrous monarch," cried Jane, "and deserves far greater success than he has obtained."

"I am sure I should know the king were I to see him," observed Mr. Petre. "Colonel Lane has often described him to me as tall and well-made, but harsh-featured, and dark as a gipsy."

"Why that description would exactly apply to Will Jones," said Mrs. Petre.

"So it would," remarked her husband, laughing heartily.

Having passed through Wednesbury, they were now on the road to Birmingham, but not desiring to enter the latter town, they soon struck off into a by-road, which led them through a very beautiful country, where one large park succeeded another, and the only houses that came in sight were large and important. Most of the persons who resided in these old mansions were friends of the Lanes, but Jane and her sister called upon none of them, but pursued their journey for nearly three hours without halt of any kind.

Hitherto they had encountered no obstacle of any kind, and Charles, though he ran the greatest risk, enjoyed the ride far more than any one else in the party. Without addressing him, Jane contrived to give him such information as she thought would be interesting, and whenever they skirted a large park, or came in sight of an ancient mansion, she mentioned the name of the owner.

Mrs. Petre was lively and chatty, but her husband was full of secret anxiety, being apprehensive, as we have said, of an encounter with Roundhead troopers. This anxiety was entirely on his own account, for he had no suspicion of the important charge committed to him. Had he been consulted, we fear he would have shrunk from such a heavy responsibility.

CHAPTER VI.

WHAT PASSED BETWEEN WILL JONES AND THE BLACKSMITH.

They were now in the fair county of Warwick, and only a few miles from Packington Hall, the seat of Sir Clement Fisher. Crowning an eminence, said to be as high as any ground in England, this fine old mansion commanded a magnificent prospect over a most lovely country. From its elevated position, the stately pile could be descried afar, and on learning to whom it belonged, Charles regarded the house with great interest, and was well pleased by reflection that Jane might one day become its mistress. The mansion was embosomed in a grove haunted by rooks, and the park contained much noble timber.

Suddenly Mr. Petre called out to the supposed groom:

"Why, Will, thy horse has cast a shoe. Luckily, we are near a village, where thou wilt be sure to find a blacksmith."

Presently they came to a pretty little inn, very pleasantly situated on the outskirts of the village, and having a large tree in front of it, encircled by a bench. Here the party alighted, and Mr. Petre ordered a pottle of sack, while Charles took his horse to the smithy, which was at no great distance from the inn. Bryan Compton, the smith, was a big, burly fellow, with a broad honest face begrimed by smoke. His brawny arms were bared to the shoulder, and a leather apron was tied round his waist. Pleased by his physiognomy, Charles took it into his head that the man must be a Royalist, but in this he was mistaken. The blacksmith proved to be a sturdy, outspoken Republican.

Not happening to be busy at the time, Bryan set to work at once, and having selected an iron plate, was heating it in his forge, when Charles asked him, "What news?"

"Nay, I ought to ask you that question," rejoined Bryan. "We hear but little in this retired village, and I reckon it would be no news to you to learn that that harebrained Charles Stuart has been routed at Worcester. He deserved to be beaten if only for bringing the Scots to England."

"You are right," said Charles, "and I think he must have found out his mistake. It seems the Scots wouldn't stand by him."

"Stand by him! not they! They soon ran away from Old Noll. I hope they're all driven out of the country."

"But I've heard say there were many English nobles and gentlemen with Charles Stuart," remarked the king. "Have any of them been taken?"

"Not that I know of," replied the smith. "There's one person I should like to capture," he added, working away vigorously at the bellows.

"Ah! who's he?" inquired the supposed groom.

"Charles Stuart himself," rejoined the smith, placing the red-hot iron on the anvil and making the sparks fly about, as he hammered it into shape. "I wish I had the chance of taking him—ha! ha! But he's not likely to come this way." Then resting for a moment, he asked, "Where do you come from, friend—and where may you be going?"

"I come from Bentley House with my young mistress, and am taking her to Packington Hall," replied Charles, readily.

"Why, then, you must be Mistress Jane Lane's groom," observed the smith. "The gossip hereabouts is that Sir Clement Fisher is betrothed to her. But I don't think the marriage will take place just yet."

"Wherefore not?" inquired the king.

"Because Sir Clement has got himself into trouble by his foolish adherence to Charles Stuart. He is sure to be heavily fined, if not imprisoned. Why, you look confounded, young man. Hold up your horse's foot while I clap on the shoe."

Charles complied, and nothing more passed between them until the smith had completed his job, when he remarked:

"This is a good horse of yours, friend. He would go a long way without tiring."

"Yes, I have ridden him a good many miles at a stretch" rejoined Charles.

"Perchance from Worcester to Bentley House?" remarked the smith, with a knowing look.

"Not quite so far as that," replied the king.

"Nay, I don't wish to appear inquisitive," said the smith. "I've heard that Colonel Lane was at Worcester, and I thought you might have been there with him."

"I am Mistress Jane Lane's servant, as I have already told you," said Charles.

"Mistress Jane was at Worcester as well as her brother, unless I have been misinformed," rejoined the smith.

Charles made no answer, but paid for the shoe, and departed.

"There's something odd about that young man," mused the smith, looking after him. "I should like to have questioned him a little more. However, I shan't forget him or his horse."

CHAPTER VII.

HOW THEY WERE RECEIVED AT PACKINGTON HALL.

Meanwhile, Colonel Lane and his two companions had come up, and when Charles got back to the little inn, he found them seated on the bench beneath the tree. After enjoying half an hour's good sport, they had sent back the falconers with a few brace of partridges. Colonel Lane filled a cup of sack for the king, who took it with a grateful bow as beseemed the character he represented. Before they set off again, Careless contrived to exchange a few words in private with his majesty.

On quitting the village, the party entered the extensive and beautiful domains belonging to Packington Hall. The park contained a great deal of fine timber, and several large sheets of water could be descried through the trees, contributing greatly to its beauty. The charm of the prospect was also heightened by the picturesque inequalities of the ground—the uplands being crowned by trees. From all these heights enchanting prospects could be obtained. The old mansion towards which they were riding was frequently lost to view, owing to the intervention of the trees, but reappeared with additional effect.

The party were within half a mile of the house, which was then in full view, when they were met by Sir Clement Fisher, who had been anxiously expecting their arrival.

Sir Clement looked somewhat depressed, but gave a warm welcome to his friends, and conducted them to the house.

With a special view to the king's convenience, the party alighted in the court-yard, and Sir Clement contrived that his majesty should be relieved from any duties in the stable, and taken at once to the buttery. It was excessively annoying to the loyal young baronet that he could not attend to the king in person—but that was impossible. Even with his other guests great caution was observed—Major Careless's name was never mentioned, and Lord Wilmot's real rank was concealed from the servants.

Dinner was served in the great hall immediately after the arrival of the party. Circumstances seeming to necessitate a slight alteration in the plans, it was now arranged that Colonel Lane, with Lord Wilmot and Careless, should stay where they were, while the others proceeded, as before settled, to Long Marston, in order to pass the night there.

Before Jane's departure an interview took place between her and her suitor. They had walked to a retired part of the garden, but for some minutes each remained silent. At length Sir Clement, looking at her earnestly, said, "I know the courage of your nature, Jane, and I will not, therefore, attempt to disguise from you the perilous position in which I am placed. Had all gone well, I hoped to have made you mistress of this house; but now you may never be mine."

"Do you say this to try me, Sir Clement?" she exclaimed, turning very pale.

"Alas, there is no exaggeration in what I am saying to you," he rejoined. "Before you return I may be a prisoner in Warwick Castle."

"If you deem yourself in such great danger, why do you not fly?" she cried.

"No; I will stand my ground," he rejoined. "Those who come to arrest me shall find me here. I am prepared to die for the cause I have espoused."

"Oh! do not talk thus, dear Sir Clement," she exclaimed. "You give me credit for far more fortitude than I really possess. Again, I entreat you to fly."

"My resolution is taken," he rejoined firmly, but sadly. "But I wished to acquaint you with it, that you may judge me rightly. Our union may be deferred for years, or it may never take place; but I regard you as my wife."

"And if I wed not you, Sir Clement, be sure I will wed no other," she rejoined. "I will not break my plighted troth. We must bear these heavy trials with resignation, and perhaps we may be the better for them in the end. Our affection will be severely tested, but my feelings will undergo no change."

"Nor will mine," he added, taking her hand, and pressing it affectionately to his lips. "Jane," he added, in accents that bespoke his sincerity, "you are a noble girl. I always thought you so; but now more than ever. Some men, incapable of estimating your character, might be jealous of the devotion you display to the king, but I have no such feeling. On the contrary, it excites my highest admiration. Nay, I think I should not love you so well, were you less loyal."

"Hear, also, the truth from me, Sir Clement," cried Jane, in a tone of exaltation; "I could but have loved you as I do, had you not been true to the king. That you would approve my conduct I never doubted, because you know my feelings, and can appreciate them; but I have also the approval of my own heart, for I am sure I am acting rightly. This firm conviction will sustain me through any trials that may be reserved for me. I am vowed to one object—the king's deliverance from his enemies. If I can accomplish it, I shall be content. Devoted loyalty like mine is perfectly compatible with love, for, though I am engrossed by it at present, it does not exclude the deeper feeling. Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly," he replied, clasping her to his breast. "You are my own Jane. Go on with your task. You are destined to be the king's preserver."

"I firmly believe so," cried a well-known voice that somewhat startled them at first, for they had not heard the approach of the speaker. It was the king, who had come to seek Jane, and had overheard the latter part of their discourse.

"I firmly believe you are destined to be my preserver, Jane," he said, stepping forward.

"I am not sorry that your majesty has heard the expression of my opinions," said Sir Clement. "Jane is free to act as she will, and I have no control over her; but had she been my wife, I should have charged her to act as she is doing."

"You will not repent your confidence in her, nor your reliance on me, Sir Clement," said Charles, with dignity. "All our difficulties will be overcome in time, and then you will have the best wife in England. Nay, be not cast down. 'Tis written that you shall be Jane Lane's husband. 'Tis written, also, that Jane shall be mistress of Packington Hall; for should you be deprived of it, you shall have the house back again if I come to the throne."

"Sire, after your gracious promise to me, I can no longer feel uneasiness," cried Sir Clement, shaking off the gloom that had hitherto oppressed him.

"As your groom," said Charles, bowing to Jane, "I come to inform you that Mr. and Mrs. Petre are already mounted, and waiting for you in the court-yard. Your own steed is ready."

Having delivered this message, he again bowed, and left the lovers together.

They followed him almost immediately to the court-yard, where the rest of the party were assembled.

After some consultation with his friends, the king had determined to prosecute that day's journey without any additional attendance. Careless would fain have gone on to Stratford-on-Avon, but his royal master would not permit him, deeming it safer to proceed in this quiet manner than with an attendance liable to attract attention, and that might cause them to be stopped. It was therefore agreed that Lord Wilmot and Careless should follow their royal master next day. This could easily be done, as they knew the precise route he intended to take. Colonel Lane, not being required, was to remain at Packington Hall.

A tender parting between the lovers took place at the park-gates, which Charles from his proximity was obliged to witness.

The party, comprehending the same persons as heretofore, rode on in silence, and Charles fancied he saw tears stealing down Jane's cheeks; but she chased them away, and soon afterwards recovered her composure, and forced herself to enter into conversation with her sister and Mr. Petre.

Their road led them through beautiful country, and the contemplation of this charming scenery tended to tranquilise her mind. Sometimes they mounted a gentle hill which gave them an extensive view over wide-spread open fields, through which a river took its course, fertilising the district, and adding greatly to its beauty. Several mansions came within their ken; but the most picturesque feature of the scene was an old castle standing on the banks of the river. The view was so delightful that the party stopped for a few minutes to admire it.

As a scene that could not be beheld elsewhere than in England, it had a special charm for the king, who gazed at it with undisguised rapture. Chancing to look at him at the moment, Mr. Petre was struck by the singular expression of his countenance.

"You seem to be greatly pleased by the prospect, Will," he cried. "Have you never beheld it before?"

Charles made no reply, and Jane touched his arm to recal him to his senses.

"Mr. Petre asks if you have ever beheld this view before," she said.

The supposed groom begged pardon, and said, "I was looking at yon old castle, and thinking I should like to have it, with a few guns and a dozen artillerymen."

"Why, what wouldst thou do with the castle, Will?"

"Hold it against Cromwell and the rebels," was the reply.

"Heaven help thee for a fool, Will!" cried Mr. Petre, laughing. "Thou wouldst fare no better than the king fared at Worcester."

CHAPTER VIII.

HOW THEY WERE STOPPED BY THE TROOPERS AT WOOTTON WAWEN.

Once more the party were in motion, and they now proceeded along a road skirted by high hedges, that for a time shut out the view of the broad well-cultivated meadows on either side. For the most part, the persons they encountered on their way were husbandmen and common folk. Carts were frequently to be seen, and now and then a waggon with its team of strong horses. Occasionally they met a farmer and his wife on a "double horse," but none of the gentry of the neighbourhood. The latter evidently deemed it prudent to keep at home. Mr. Petre often pulled up to have a word with the husbandmen, and their talk was generally concerning the battle of Worcester. Many sympathised with the king for his misfortunes, and expressed concern at his defeat; but all blamed him for bringing the Scots to England.

Thus they journeyed on through a rich agricultural district, past farms and homesteads well stocked with cattle, till they came to a woody tract that had once formed part of the forest of Arden, some vestiges of which could yet be discerned. These woodlands offered a pleasant contrast to the richly cultivated district just left behind, and having skirted a park, they reached the picturesque old town of Henley in Arden.

Here they halted, and while Charles, in his quality of groom, attended to the horses, Jane and the others went to view the old cross which then stood in the market-place. To support his character, Charles thought it necessary to drink a pot of ale with the ostler; and the man's tongue being loosened by the good liquor, he informed the king that about two hours previously a troop of horse had passed through the town on their way to Stratford-on-Avon.

"That doesn't matter to us, friend," said Charles. "We are on the right side, and belong to the Parliament."

"An that be so, you'll be glad to hear that the malignant prince has been captured," observed the ostler. "We shall have no further trouble with him."

"That's too good news to be true I fear, friend," rejoined Charles. "Where did you learn it?"

"From the troopers I've just mentioned. They couldn't be misinformed. Charles Stuart was caught in a woodcutter's hut in Brewood Forest. He fought so hard that it took ten men to secure him, and the reward will be divided among 'em, consequently, they'll only have a hundred apiece. Well, here's Old Noll's health, and hoping he may soon reign over us."

"Reign over us?" cried Charles.

"Ay, reign," said the ostler. "When he has cut off Charles Stuart's head he'll be King of England. He has got the army with him, and can do as he likes."

"He aims at the crown, I make no doubt," said Charles. "But here comes my young mistress. She'll be greatly surprised to learn that Charles Stuart is taken."

Having mounted their horses, the party quitted the little town and took the road to Stratford-on-Avon.

Mr. Petre was a good deal alarmed on hearing that a troop of soldiers had preceded them, but Jane sought to reassure him by saying that they should be able to pass through the town without being noticed by the men, and he made no more remarks till they drew near Wootton Wawen, a small town about midway between Henley and Stratford. He then discovered that some of the Roundheads must have halted in this little town, as a dozen troopers, at least, were refreshing themselves at the inn. It was impossible to avoid them, except by making a considerable détour, and this the timorous gentleman declared he would do; and after some discussion he actually turned back with his wife, while Jane and the king rode boldly on towards Wootton.

As they approached the village, two mounted troopers barred the road, and ordered the supposed groom to halt and give an account of himself.

Before Charles could answer, an officer, fully accoutred, came forth from the inn with the evident intent of interrogating the travellers. But Jane anticipated his design, and holding out a piece of paper, exclaimed:

"I have a pass for myself and my man from Captain Stone, governor of Stafford. Here it is."

The officer took the paper, and glancing at it, said, in a respectful tone:

"You are the lady herein described, I presume?"

"I am Jane Lane, of Bentley House," she rejoined, haughtily. "This is my servant, Will Jones."

"Has he been long in your service?" pursued the officer, fixing a keen glance on Charles, who bore his scrutiny well.

"Not long," she replied. "He is a tenant of my brother's."

"Whither are you going?" he demanded. "I require a precise answer."

"I am going to Long Marston, the residence of my relative, Mr. Tombs, and shall pass the night there," she rejoined. "Long Marston is four miles beyond Stratford-on-Avon."

"I know the house," rejoined the officer. "Mr. Tombs is a notorious malignant, but your pass is sufficient. You may proceed on your journey."

Charles did not neglect the hint, but moved on instantly.

As soon as they were gone the officer said to the mounted troopers:

"Follow them, but at such a distance as not to cause alarm. Enter the house where they stop, and examine the groom. I suspect him."

The troopers promised strict obedience to the command, and set off cautiously after the travellers.

CHAPTER IX.

HOW THEY ARRIVED AT LONG MARSTON.

Apart from being the birthplace and the burial-place of Shakspeare, Stratford-on-Avon had a special interest to Charles from the circumstance that it had been the temporary residence of his mother, Queen Henrietta Maria, who, in 1643—some eight years anterior to the period of our story—entered the old town at the head of a large force, and was subsequently joined there by Prince Rupert. Charles remembered also that Stratford had been the scene of more than one sharp conflict between the Royalists and the rebels, and that an arch of the old stone bridge had been broken down by the latter to prevent the attacks of their opponents. These reflections occurred to the king as he and his fair companion halted within a quarter of a mile of the charming old town.

Before them, on the opposite bank of the Avon, stood the ancient church, in the vaults of which rest Shakspeare's hallowed bones. But the bridge was guarded by a party of cavalry drawn up in front of it. Nothing had been seen of Mr. Petre and his wife, since they had gone off in another direction at Wootton, and Jane waited for them for some time before entering Stratford; but as they did not make their appearance she at last agreed to go on without them, and Charles rode on towards the bridge.

Never in the conflicts that had taken place on that bridge during the Civil War did Cavalier ride up to the enemy with bolder front than the king now displayed. He was sharply examined by the troopers as he advanced, but Jane, again producing her pass, answered the questions of the officer in command so satisfactorily, that they were at once allowed to pass. Moreover, she accomplished the liberation of her brother-in-law and his wife, who had been detained till her arrival.

All difficulties being thus surmounted the party crossed the bridge—noting that the broken arch had only been partially repaired—and entered the old town in triumph. Under pleasanter circumstances they might have been disposed to halt for a short time at Stratford, and Jane, casting a longing look at the avenue of lime-trees leading to the church, suggested a visit to the beautiful old fabric, but Mr. Petre would not hear of it. Not to excite suspicion they rode at a very deliberate pace through the town, being regarded with some curiosity by the townsfolk, and frowned at by a few troopers collected in the market-place; but as they had passed the ordeal of the bridge it was presumed by those who watched them that they must be well affected towards the Parliament.

Mr. Petre felt much easier in his mind when he got out of Stratford, but chancing to cast a look behind him he saw a couple of troopers pursuing the same course, and fancying they must be following him his fears returned. He mentioned his apprehensions to his wife and Jane, but they treated them very lightly.

For some little time the road pursued by the party lay along the banks of the Avon, and offered delightful views of the town they had just quitted, with its picturesque old church and bridge; but after they had proceeded about a mile they quitted the gently-flowing river, and struck across a wild district that presented but few attractions. However, they were now not far from their destination, but before they reached it the aspect of the country had materially improved.

A large, substantially-built farm-house of the better class, Long Marston looked like what it was, the abode of an unostentatious country gentleman. The transomed windows and arched doorway showed the antiquity of the house. In front was a large pond bordered by trees, and at the back there was an old-fashioned garden, and beyond that an extensive orchard.

Evening was coming on as our travellers approached the house, and coloured by the warm sunset the grey old structure appeared to great advantage.

Of good family, and living upon his own estate, Mr. Tombs, the owner of Long Marston, was blessed with a very amiable, affectionate partner, so that we may venture to say that he was a happy man. He did not keep a large establishment, but lived in a quiet, comfortable style, and was thoroughly hospitable. With his rosy, handsome countenance, beaming with health and good humour, and his stout figure, he looked the personification of a country gentleman. Mrs. Tombs, who was some years younger than her husband, was likewise rather stout, but well-proportioned and comely.

Such was the well-assorted and kindly couple that greeted the party on their arrival at Long Marston. They were very glad to see Mr. and Mrs. Petre, but their warmest greeting was for Jane Lane, who was an especial favourite with both of them. Of course, Mr. Petre had a good deal to tell of the difficulties experienced at Wootton and Stratford, and was congratulated on getting through them so well; but Jane made no remarks, and indeed she was occupied at the moment in giving private instructions to Charles, who was waiting for her orders.

"Don't neglect your horse, Will," she said, in a significant tone. "Groom him well and feed him well. Don't gossip with the men at the stables, but as soon as you have finished your work go to the kitchen."

Charles promised obedience, and took his horse to the stables, which adjoined the house.

"That's a new groom, Jane," observed Mr. Tombs. "I don't recollect seeing him before."

"You never saw me travel in this fashion before," replied Jane; "and I shouldn't do so now if I could help it. But it is dangerous to go alone."

"It's not safe to travel in any way in my opinion," observed Mr. Tombs. "But you are a courageous girl, Jane. After your exploits at Worcester, I shan't be surprised at anything you do—not even if you turn soldier."

"Nothing daunts her," cried Mr. Petre. "She would ride through the rebel pack at Wootton."

"Though you didn't like to face them," laughed Mr. Tombs. "Well, I should have acted in the same way myself. I don't mean to go near Stratford, while it is occupied by the enemy."

"Nothing surprises me that Jane does," remarked Mrs. Tombs to Mrs. Petre; "but I wonder you like to travel when you are constantly liable to be stopped and maltreated by these Roundhead troopers."

"I don't like it, I assure you," replied Mrs. Petre. "But we want to get back to our house in Buckinghamshire. If I could have anticipated the annoyances I have met with I would never have left it."

"But you are going to Bristol, I understand, Jane?" said Mr. Tombs, turning to her.

"I am going to the Nortons of Abbots Leigh," replied Jane. "Their place is about three miles from Bristol. I would have postponed my visit to a more convenient season—but I have something important to do."

"But I hope you mean to spend a day or two with us?"

"Quite impossible," rejoined Jane. "On my return I shall be delighted to stay with you. But not now. I must start early in the morning."

"But you can't reach Abbots Leigh to-morrow."

"No, I shall pass the night at Cirencester."

"You can't do better," remarked Mr. Tombs. "There is a good inn there, kept by a very worthy woman, Widow Meynell, who will take every care of you."

"I know Widow Meynell very well," replied Jane, "and shall feel as much at home with her as I do here."

"Well, let us go in-doors," said Mrs. Tombs, leading the way.

They then entered the house, which was larger and more commodious than its exterior seemed to promise.

"You know your own room, Jane, so I needn't show you to it," said Mrs. Tombs.

Jane tripped up the old oak staircase, while her sister and Mrs. Tombs followed more leisurely.