INTAUNTO 
 
 •TOWN! 
 
 
 
 ^1^^ 
 
 
 <3^ toQ les • of v5^> 
 
 E:..EVERETT-©REEN 
 
 •^ ATALF^ OFMONMOUTH'S REBELLION ^
 
 ^ 
 
 <t 
 
 \ 
 
 ^ 
 
 u 
 
 {,' 
 
 iT-
 
 IN TAUNTON TOWN.
 
 HISTORICAL TALES 
 
 BY 
 
 j£. ]£verett=(Brcen. 
 
 In handsome croiun Svo voliitnes, cloth extra, gilt tops. Price js. each. 
 
 IN TAUNTON TOWN. A Story of the Days of the Rebellion of James, Duke of Monmouth, 
 in 1685. 
 
 SHUT IN. A Tale of the Wonderful Siege of Antiverp in the Year 1583. 
 
 THE LOST TREASURE OF TREVLYN. A Story of the Days of the Gunpowder Plot. 
 
 IN THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY. A Tale of the Times of the Dlack Prince. 
 
 LOVAL HEARTS AND TRUE. A Story of the Days of Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 THE CHURCH AND THE KING. A Tale of England in the Days of Henry VIII. 
 
 In post ^0 -uolittnes, cloth extra. Price 2s. 6d. each. 
 EVIL MAY-DAY. A Story of 1517. 
 IN THE WARS OF THE ROSES. 
 
 THE LORD OF DVNEVOR. A Tale of the Times of Edward the First. 
 THE SECRET CHAMBER AT CHAD. 
 
 Published by 
 T. Nelson and Sons, London, Edinburgh, and New York
 
 1 N T A U N. TO N 
 TOV 
 
 James, Duke or Mo n mouth. 
 
 T, ISTKLSON & SONS 
 
 J.ONDON. EDINBITRGH Jb IfE-W YORK-
 
 In Taunton Town 
 
 A Story of tJie 
 
 Rebellion of fames Duke of MonmoiitJi 
 
 in i6Sj 
 
 By 
 
 E. EVERETT-GREE N 
 
 n 
 
 Author of" In the Days of Chivalry," " The Church and the Kin^, 
 
 '■ The Lord of Dynevor^" "Shut hi '' 
 
 &-C. &-C. 
 
 1 
 
 r. NELSON AND SONS 
 
 London, Edinhurgli, and New York 
 
 iSg6 
 
 M/C
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I. THE SNOWE FAMILY, .... 
 II. MY CAREER IS SETTLED, 
 III. MY NEW HOME, 
 IV. MY NEW LIFE, 
 V. I GET AMONGST FINE FOLK, 
 VI. VISCOUNT VERE, 
 VII. A WINTER OF PLOTS, ... 
 VIII, "LE ROI EST MORT," .... 
 
 IX. THE MUTTERING OF THE STORM, 
 X. MY RIDE TO LYME, 
 XI. OUR DELIVERER, 
 Xn. BACK TO TAUNTON, 
 XIII. THE REVOLT OP TAUNTON, 
 XIV. A GLORIOUS DAY, 
 XV. THE MAIDS OF TAUNTON, 
 XVI. " THE TAUNTON KING," 
 XVn. ON THE WAR-PATH, 
 XVIII. IN PERIL IN A STRANGE CITY, 
 XIX. A BAPTISM OF BLOOD, 
 XX. IN SUSPENSE, 
 
 9 
 
 25 
 42 
 59 
 79 
 95 
 112 
 129 
 146 
 163 
 180 
 197 
 214 
 230 
 250 
 264 
 281 
 207 
 314 
 331
 
 VIU 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 XXI. BACK AT BRIDGEWATER, 
 
 XXII. FATAL SEDGEMOOR, .... 
 
 XXIII. TERRIBLE DAYS, 
 
 XXIV. THE PRISONER OF THE CASTLE, 
 
 XXV, JUST IN TIME, 
 
 XXVL THE TERRIBLE JUDGE, 
 
 XXVIL THE judge's SENTENCES, 
 
 XXVni. PEACE AFTER STORM, 
 
 XXIX. MY LORD AND MY LADY, 
 
 XXX. A CHRISTMAS SCENE, .... 
 EPILOGUE, 
 
 
 
 348 
 
 
 
 364 
 
 
 
 381 
 
 
 
 398 
 
 
 
 413 
 
 
 
 430 
 
 
 
 447 
 
 
 
 463 
 
 
 
 478 
 
 
 
 490 
 
 
 
 497
 
 IN TAUNTON TOWN. 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE SNOWE FAMILY. 
 
 I CERTAINLY never thought when I was young that I 
 should live to write a book ! Scarce do I know how 
 it betides that I have the courage to make so bold, now 
 that I am well stricken in years, and that my hair has 
 grown grey. To be sure (if I may say so without laying 
 myself open to the charge of boasting, a thing abhorrent 
 to me), I have always been reckoned something of a 
 scholar, notwithstanding that I was born a farmer's son, 
 and that my father would have been proud could he but 
 have set his name on paper, as men of his station begin to 
 do now-a-days, and think little of it. But times have 
 changed since I was a boy- — perhaps for the better, 
 perhaps for the worse ; who knows ? Anyhow, there is 
 more of learning in the world, for sure, though whether 
 more of honesty let others be the judge ! 
 
 And now, how and when am I to begin my tale ? 
 
 Sitting over the fire and recalling stirring scenes of
 
 lo THE SNOWE FAMILY. 
 
 bygone days, it seems simple enough to record in writing 
 my memories of those times when we good folks of the 
 West Country thought we had found a deliverer who 
 would break from the neck of England the yoke of the 
 hated Papist tyranny which was being laid upon us (at 
 least so we all feared and believed) by one whose name 
 is yet spoken in these parts with a curse. But when one 
 sits to a table with quill and ink-horn beside one, then it 
 does not appear so simple a task ; and inasmuch as I have 
 no skill in such matters as the writing of chronicles, I 
 must e'en go to work my own fashion, and if that fashion 
 be a poor one, must ask pardon of all such as may have 
 the patience or complaisance to read my poor story. 
 
 Well, then, it seems that the first thing to do is to state 
 who I am, and how it came about that I was so mixed up 
 with that brief period of history which has left such in- 
 delible marks in the hearts of the people of our fair West 
 Country. The former is quickly and easily explained; the 
 latter will be unfolded as this narrative proceeds. 
 
 My father was one Joseph Snowe, a farmer of some 
 substance, and the eldest of three brothers. He was a 
 man of some importance, being the owner of Five Gable 
 Farm at Shorthorne ; and Shorthorne- — -as I suppose all 
 men know — lies midway betwixt Taunton and Bridge- 
 water, two notable fair towns of our fertile and pleasant 
 county of Somerset. 
 
 There was an old saw spoken anent the Snowe family 
 which said that the men thereof who were not farmers and 
 tillers of the soil were brewers of malt liquor and the
 
 THE SNOIVE FAMILY. ii 
 
 keepers of hostelries. Nor would it become me to deny 
 with too much eagerness the truth of this saying, seeing 
 that I myself have been master of an inn these many 
 years, and that I have brothers who both till the soil and 
 sell and make malt liquor. 
 
 But to return to my father and his two brothers. Five 
 Gable Farm had belonged to the Snowes as far back as we 
 cared to ask questions. It had passed from father to son 
 for many generations ; and since I- was the youngest of six 
 brothers, there seemed little likelihood of its passing to 
 alien hands for many a day to come. 
 
 My father's name was Joseph — as became the eldest 
 of the house ; for Joseph was a great name in the Snowe 
 family. Next to him came Uncle John, of whom I shall 
 have much to say in these pages ; and last of the three, 
 Uncle Robert, who was a good deal younger than the 
 other pair, two sisters having been born in between. 
 
 Now Uncle John was a big man, as big as father him- 
 self, with a loud voice and a right jovial manner. I doubt 
 not that he found this jovial address a great source of in- 
 come to him ; for he kept the inn of the Three Cups in gay 
 Taunton Town, and travellers who paused at his door to 
 ask the way or quaff a cup of mead on horseback seldom 
 rode onwards after having had speech of mine host — unless 
 much pressed for time — but dismounted to taste the good 
 cheer of the house, and more often than not remained until 
 the morrow beneath the friendly shelter of the roof-tree. 
 I was to learn all about this in good sooth, as will shortly 
 be made clear to all.
 
 12 THE SNOWE FAMILY. 
 
 Uncle Robert had followed the example of Uncle John, 
 or had perhaps been guided in his choice by the old adage 
 of which I have spoken; for he too became master of an 
 inn in Bridgewater, by name the Cross Keys. It was not 
 such a flourishing or important house as the Three Cups 
 in Taunton, nevertheless it was a comfortable and well- 
 liked place of rest ; and the name of Snowe went far in 
 the district as a warranty for good cheer and fair charges. 
 
 Now it will readily be seen that it was a great matter 
 of advantage to my father to have two brothers within 
 easy distance of the farm, both in the innkeeping line of 
 business. All our spare produce was sent to one inn or 
 the other, bought readily at fair prices, and often bespoken 
 for months beforehand. We prided ourselves on the breed 
 of our sheep, the quality of our beef, the excellence of our 
 smoked hams ; and the fame of all these things made us 
 well known both in Taunton and in Bridgewater, so that 
 private persons from the neighbourhood would come crav- 
 ing of mother to spare them of our produce, and these 
 earnings of hers came in the course of a year to a tidy 
 little sum of money. 
 
 But I must not wander on in this fashion, or I shall 
 scarce get my story told as I have promised. And to 
 pave the way for the tale I am to tell, I must needs talk 
 for a while about myself, even though this may savour 
 somewhat of self-conceit and vanity. Not that I have 
 any cause to be vain of my outward man, as I will incon- 
 tinently show, for I have been malformed and somewhat of 
 a hunchback all my life : and if the word I have used is
 
 THE SNOWE FAMILY. 13 
 
 somewhat too strong, at least it is the one I most often 
 heard employed towards me when first I mixed with other 
 lads in Taunton Town. And I may not deny that I had 
 and always have had a stoop of the neck, and that one of 
 my shoulders is higher than the other, whilst my stature 
 has always been notably less than that of any of the men 
 of my name and race. 
 
 Now this would be very surprising in a family noted 
 for its tall and comely sons and daughters, had it not 
 been for the lamentable fact that in my tender infancy 
 I was overlooked by a witch, or in some sort bewitched, 
 so that from that day forward I began to grow crooked, 
 and never attained the grace or stature which my brothers 
 and sisters inherited as a natural right. 
 
 And this misfortune befell me in this wise. 
 
 I was but a babe in arms, I think I was nigh upon a 
 year old, and as fine and comely a child (so at least my 
 mother will have it) as one need wish to see. She had 
 been out to visit a neighbour, and was returning across 
 the moor as the dusk was drawing on ; and as ill-luck 
 would have it, her way led her close to the hut where 
 there lived a witch, who went by the name of Mother 
 Whale — though whether this were truly her name, or 
 whether witches have rightly any names at all, I have not 
 knowledge to say. Be that as it may, Mother Whale was 
 so called by all the country side; and young maids resorted 
 to her to have their fortunes told, whilst the village swains 
 who dared as much would purchase from her small bottles 
 in which she had brewed love potions to win them their
 
 14 THE SNOWE FAMILY. 
 
 sweethearts, or magic draughts to make them strong in 
 feats of courage or skill. She had worked many notable 
 cures on cattle and pigs, as well as on human beings, by 
 her charms and simples, and was held in much repute. 
 Nevertheless men feared her not a little also, because that 
 she was without doubt possessed of the evil eye ; and when 
 she chose to overlook a man or his possessions, as sure 
 as the sun shone in the sky some grievous harm would 
 happen to him or to them, as had been proved times with- 
 out number — so all the folks of the place said. 
 
 My mother felt a great fear when she found herself 
 nigh to this lonely hut so near the day's end, for she had 
 an idea that witches who were fairly friendly and well 
 disposed by day became full of evil purposes at night 
 (which may or may not be true — I pass no opinion on the 
 matter), and she was hurrying by in a great fright, when 
 suddenly the form of the old woman rose from the very 
 ground at her feet. 
 
 I have heard my mother tell the story many and many 
 a time ; and she alwaj^s maintains that there was nothing 
 to conceal the old woman — not so much as a mound or a 
 tuft of grass — and that she must have sprung out of 
 the bowels of the earth, for there she suddenly was, stand- 
 ing full in front of her ; and my mother being already 
 somewhat scared, fell now into such a terrible fright that 
 she dropped me upon a heap of sharp-pointed stones close 
 by (when I ask her if the old woman might not have been 
 concealed behind this heap of stones, she always grows 
 irritable, and tells me not to cavil at her words), and fled
 
 THE SNOWE FAMILY. 15 
 
 for her very life. But inasmuch as the power of a 
 mother's love is a notable thing, and will run many a risk 
 sooner than leave a helpless babe in peril, so it befell that 
 my mother turned back after a while, and even dared to go 
 boldly up to the very hut itself in search of her offspring. 
 
 The door of the hut stood open as she approached, and 
 by the light of the turf fire she could see what passed 
 within, and a sight was revealed to her which made her 
 heart stand still and curdled the very blood in her veins. 
 For the old woman had actually got me laid across her lap, 
 and was rubbing my back, which was sorely cut and 
 bruised by the stones, with some preparation of her own ; 
 and when my mother appeared to claim her child, she 
 looked her over with a glance which made the poor 
 creature shake in her shoes, and chid her severely for 
 dropping a tender babe and fleeing without so much as a 
 backward glance. 
 
 My mother declares that from that day forward she 
 always knew that harm would come of it ; that the witch 
 had overlooked either her or me. And in truth from that 
 time I grew puny and peaked, and when I began to walk 
 (which was not till long after a child should do so) 
 it was easy to see that something was wrong with me. 
 All the place knew that I had been bewitched, and held 
 Mother Whale responsible, and respected and feared hei 
 the more for it ; but for my part I often wonder whether 
 it was not the fall upon the stones, for Mother Wliale was 
 always very good to me, and in my lonely childhood I 
 found in her one of my chiefest friends.
 
 1 6 THE SNOWE FAMILY. 
 
 For my childhood was lonely. I could not work on the 
 farm like my brothers. I was sickly and weak until I 
 grew to be ten or twelve years old. My back would ache 
 for almost nothing, and I was so little use that I was 
 always pushed on one side, or bidden to run indoors out 
 of the way. My sisters were kind to me, and would find 
 me little light household tasks; but the manhood in me 
 revolted from doing " woman's work," and I suppose that 
 is why I became what the neighbours used to call a 
 scholar, — which convinced them almost more than any- 
 thing else that I had indeed been bewitched. 
 
 I could write a long history of the joys opened out 
 before me when once I had mastered the mysteries of 
 reading, and could cull from the row of ancient books 
 upon the shelf in the parlour the treasures they contained. 
 But this would be but tedious reading for others. The 
 Bible was in itself a perfect storehouse of information, and 
 my mother encouraged me to read it, thinking that it 
 might prove an antidote to the poison of witchcraft 
 which she always believed was working within me. And 
 there were certain godly pamphlets written by persecuted 
 men of past days, showing forth the evils of Popery, and 
 claiming for men the rights which Protestants have since 
 won for themselves : these I was permitted and encouraged 
 to read, and also " Fox's Book of Martyrs," which had a 
 gruesome fascination for me, the more so as it was illus- 
 trated with many a horrid picture of some martyr endur- 
 ing punishment or death. I was brought up in the 
 fervent conviction that all Papists would like to serve us 
 
 (511)
 
 THE SNOWE FAMILY. 17 
 
 good Protestants as these martyrs were being served in my 
 pictures ; and not unnaturally I grew up with a pious 
 horror of the very name of Popery, and shivered from 
 head to foot when I heard whispers of the Popish inclina- 
 tions of the King, and the unconcealed Popery of the 
 Duke of York, who was like to be his successor — unless, 
 indeed, the Duke of Monmouth should turn out to be the 
 King's legitimate son, when all danger of a Papist on the 
 throne would cease at once. 
 
 Without therefore pausing to speak of the other books 
 in which I delighted more than in all these godly writings 
 put together — to wit, the immortal dramas of the great 
 bard William Shakespeare, and that marvellous conception 
 of Mr. John Milton's, " Paradise Lost " — I will pursue the 
 theme just suggested, that of the Protestant Succession, as 
 men began to call it, meaning the hopes and aspirations of 
 the people of the country, that if the King died without 
 issue by his Queen, some way might be found for placing 
 the Duke of Monmouth upon the throne instead of the 
 dark Duke of York, whom men both feared and hated. 
 
 Now it is needless to say much respecting the parentage 
 of the Duke of Monmouth, for all the world knows that 
 he was the son of Lucy Walters, a woman of whom little 
 good can be written, and that the King was always sup- 
 posed to be his father, and indeed gave to him a father's 
 affection; so much so that men hoped he would seek to 
 pass an Act of Parliament excluding the Duke of York 
 from the succession, on account of his religion, and ap- 
 pointing the Duke of Monmouth to succeed him. 
 
 (511) 2
 
 1 8 THE SNOWE EAMILY. 
 
 This liope was the more fervent in the minds of the 
 people because there were many who declared that the 
 Duke was born in lawful wedlock, and that there was in 
 existence a black box containing all the needful propfs 
 of this fact. We in the West Country believed in that 
 black box almost as in an article of faith, and every news- 
 letter that came to Taunton Town was eagerly opened and 
 scanned in hopes of finding in it some precious hint with 
 regard to this matter. 
 
 But my own interest in the handsome and dashing 
 young Duke was of a more personal and particular nature 
 than could have been the case simply from reading books 
 and leaflets and pamphlets, or even from hearing through 
 our uncles on their visits the talk of the towns. 
 
 And it came about in this wise. 
 
 I have said before that I was but a puny and sickly 
 child, and that until I grew to be ten years old I had but 
 little health. This was indeed my melancholy condition ; 
 for in addition to my crooked spine and lack of muscle, I 
 suffered from time to time from that obscure and painful 
 malady which used to be known as " King's Evil," and 
 which was not to be cured by any leech or physician, but 
 only by the touch of the King's hand, or the hand of his 
 lawful successor. Some indeed declared that a seventh 
 son could sometimes cure it by touching; but though I 
 was taken more than once to such, I received no good from 
 the touch. It was the seventh son of a seventh son in 
 whom the power was said to lie, and some held that it lay 
 also in tlie hand of a man who had been hanged ; but my
 
 THE SNOWE FAMILY. 19 
 
 mother would never let me try that touch, and so I went 
 on enduring the evil until the day of which I am about to 
 write. 
 
 I had an aunt in the town of Ilrninster, one Betsy Mar- 
 well by name, my mother's sister, and a widow of some 
 substance. She having heard of me and my malady, sent 
 one day when I was about ten years old, and bid my 
 mother let me pay a visit to her, for that she knew a great 
 collector of herbs and simples who had had wonderful suc- 
 cess in curing all manner of maladies that baffled the skill 
 of the leeches ; and she would keep me in her house and 
 doctor me with his preparations, and send me home, she 
 fondly hoped, in better and sounder health than I had 
 when I came. 
 
 I remember well even now that first visit I ever paid 
 away from my own home, and the excitements of dwelling 
 in a town, and of sitting at table in a parlour with a carpet 
 laid down in the middle, and eating with a fork instead of 
 a wooden spoon as I had always done at home. I remem- 
 ber the grave face and the long beard of the man who 
 came to look at me, and who bid me take many baths 
 with sundry simples thrown in, and use certain ointments 
 of his preparation, and who said that in time I should be 
 sound and whole again. 
 
 I abode with my aunt two whole months, and it was 
 during that time that the wonderful thing happened to me 
 of which I am now about to write. 
 
 I had not been long at Ilrninster before the whole town 
 was thrown into joyful excitement by the news that the
 
 20 THE SXOWE FAMILY. 
 
 Duke of Monmoutli was about to make a progress through 
 the county, staying in the houses of such of the gentry as 
 had accommodation sufficient to receive him and his suite, 
 and allowing himself to be seen by the people, and ap- 
 proached by all who desired it. I soon heard that the 
 house of Mr. Speke — White Lackington by name — was to 
 be one of the places visited. I knew Mr. Speke by name 
 right well — he and his son-in-law, Mr. Trenchard, being- 
 looked upon in our county as men of great virtue, and 
 stanch to the Protestant cause, as in very truth they 
 were, and suffered for it much ; and I knew by this time 
 that White Lackington House was but the distance of a 
 mile or so from Ilminster, and I thought it would go hard 
 but that I would make shift to see the Duke when he was 
 there, if I were still with my aunt. 
 
 Indeed when the time drew near there was no difficulty 
 about this, for all the world was agog about the Duke, 
 and preparations were being made to admit all those who 
 desired to see him to the park of White Lackington upon 
 a certain day ; whilst my aunt Betsy was as eager as any 
 to see the hero, and before the day arrived she drew me 
 to her side and spoke to me very earnestly. 
 
 First she examined my wounds, and shook her head 
 over them. To be sure they were better than when I 
 came to her, and some were fast disappearing ; but she was 
 not satisfied with the progress I had made, and she said to 
 me with grave emphasis, — 
 
 " Dicon " — my name, I should say, was Kichard, but I 
 was never called anything but Dicon for many a long year
 
 THE SNOWE FAMILY. 21 
 
 of my life — " Dicon, to-morrow, if by any hap you can 
 make shift to do so, get near to his Grace the Duke, and 
 pray of him to lay his hand upon you and touch you for 
 the Kings Evil. If he be, as I hold him, the rightful son 
 of our gracious King, his touch will be a cure for you such 
 as none other can help j^ou to. If 3"0U can only make 
 shift yourself to touch him in the throng, it will perchance 
 be enough. But let not this chance slip unused. Provi- 
 dence, it may be, hath sent it. Let the people but know 
 him for the true heir to the throne, and not all the Dukes 
 of York ever yet born shall keep him from his own when 
 the right time comes • " 
 
 Whereby it may be seen that my aunt was a woman of 
 spirit, as indeed she proved herself to be in days to come. 
 
 Upon the morrow we, in common with half the good 
 folks of Ilminster, set forth for White Lackington to see 
 the Duke at our ease. He had ridden into Ilminster the 
 previous day, to attend divine service in the church ; but 
 although I had been well-nigh squeezed to death in the 
 press, I had not succeeded in obtaining so much as a sight 
 of him. But to-day there would be no such crowding and 
 crushing. The wide park land gave space for us to move 
 at ease, and all would be able to look upon the face of one 
 whom they loved, perhaps with scarce sufficient cause. 
 
 How we huzzahed and shouted, and tossed our caps into 
 the air, when the party from the great house moved across 
 the sunny gardens and came toward us ! For my part, I 
 had a most excellent view, for I climbed into the fork of 
 the huo-e chestnut tree which is one of the notable objects
 
 22 THE SNOWE FAMILY. 
 
 of interest at White Lackington, and from my perch up 
 there I beheld the Duke, was able to scan his handsome 
 features, to see the smiles that lighted his face, and almost 
 to hear the gracious words he addressed to the people who 
 crowded round him as he moved. 
 
 Fortune favoured me that day ; for as the throng about 
 him increased, the Duke took up his position beneath the 
 great chestnut tree, and I was able to command a fine 
 view of everything that went on. 
 
 I was greatly charmed by the gracious manner of the 
 Duke, by his kindness to all who approached, and by the 
 friendly way in which he addressed even the humblest who 
 succeeded in reaching him. I was wondering whether my 
 courage would permit me to drop myself suddenly at his 
 feet and ask the boon my aunt had desired, when my 
 way was paved in a curious fashion. A woman suddenly 
 forced her way through the crowd, threw herself on her 
 knees before the Duke, touched his hand, and as suddenly 
 disappeared in the throng, before the Duke had time to 
 speak a single word or ask the meaning of her approach. 
 
 " Marry, but that is Elizabeth Parcet," said one of those 
 who stood by; "the poor soul suffers terribly from the 
 King's Evil. Doubtless she has touched your Grace with 
 a view to cure herself of her malady." 
 
 Now hearing those words, and marking the look upon 
 the Duke's face, I tarried no longer, but wdthout pausing 
 to think what I was doing or what I should say, I hastily 
 let myself down from my exalted position, and fell on my 
 knees before the Duke.
 
 THE SNOWE FAMILY. 23 
 
 " Touch me, even me also, your Gi'ace ! " I cried, clasp- 
 ing my hands together. " I too am a sufferer from that 
 dread malady, and I would fain be made whole." 
 
 Inniiediately I felt a hand laid kindly upon me, and 
 my face and hands were touched by long white lingers 
 such as I had seldom seen in all my life before. 
 
 " There, boy," said a kindly voice which I knew to be 
 the Duke's. " May thy wish be given thee, and thyself 
 healed of thy malady." 
 
 Bowing and blushing, overcome with confusion now 
 that the thing was done, I made my way out of the 
 crowd, scarce daring to utter the words of fervent thanks 
 which rose to my lips. 
 
 As I went home in triumph that day, I knew within 
 myself that I was healed, and so I told my aunt and the 
 kind old man who had given me his simples and herbs, 
 and who listened to my eager tale with a smile on his lips. 
 
 " Ay, lad ; ay, lad," he said, nodding his head till his long 
 beard waved to and fro, " I doubt not that thou wilt be 
 cured. Yet cease not for a while to use my ointment and 
 simples. They cannot harm thee, and may give thee 
 strength and health yet." 
 
 I promised I would do so, and I kept my word, for that 
 our father had always bidden us do. But it was the touch 
 of the Duke's hand that cured me of my malady; that 
 I never doubted at that time, since within a week of 
 receiving it all my wounds were healed, and at once I 
 began to gain such strength and power and vigour as I 
 had not known since tlie day of my accident. Herbs and
 
 24 THE SNOWE FAMILY. 
 
 simples may have a value of their own — I would not take 
 upon myself to deny it; but I was cured of the King's 
 Evil by other means than that, and went to my home 
 rejoicing when the time came that I had no further need 
 for my good aunt's care or skill. 
 
 She shed many tears at parting with me, and bid me 
 not forget her, and come and see her again some day. 
 This I promised I would do when occasion served, and I 
 kept my word, as this tale will show. But we little 
 guessed how and under what cii'cumstances the next visit 
 would be paid, nor how large a part the gay young Duke 
 who had touched me for my cure would play in my 
 future life. 
 
 At home I was received with wonder and joy. Of 
 course my parents knew nothing of my adventure at 
 White Lackington, for we did not write letters to absent 
 friends, as men are beginning to do now. But when 
 seated at the well-spread supper-table I told them of what 
 had befallen me, they listened with open eyes and mouths 
 agape, and my father, bringing his hand heavily down 
 upon the table, cried, — • 
 
 " That settles the question. The black box could do no 
 more. The Duke of Monmoutli is our rightful King. 
 Hurrah for the Protestant Duke • Down with the Papists 
 and with the Popish Duke of York 1 " 
 
 And we all echoed these words with acclamation. Our 
 hearts were from that day forward centred in the Duke. 
 
 All this happened in the year 1680, when I was just 
 ten years of age.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 jWY career is settled. 
 
 OF the next two years of my life I need say little. 
 They passed in a fashion that to me was pleasant 
 and easy enough. 
 
 I have before explained that I had been a sickly child, 
 and was on this account spared from those duties about 
 the farm which were requii-ed of my brothers ; and I have 
 said something with regard to my acquirements in the 
 matter of reading, which were then somewhat more rare 
 than they are like to become as time goes on. My father 
 had a small library of books which had been bequeathed 
 to him by a distant kinsman, who could have known but 
 little of his tastes, and in these books I revelled with a 
 delight past the power of expression. Whilst at my aunt 
 Betsy's house in Ilminster, I had also acquired the rudi- 
 ments of the art of writing and the casting up of accounts 
 and the keeping of books : and when I returned home, I 
 had no mind to let these things slip from my memory. 
 
 Nor was there any need for this, since my father showed 
 no disposition to make use of me upon the farm, having 
 indeed the full belief that I had been bewitched, and that
 
 26 AfV CAREER IS SETTLED 
 
 I should bring him ill-kick with the beasts if I went 
 amongst them. 
 
 Nor was the belief in my possession of milawful powers 
 lessened by an incident which I will forthwith relate, 
 although, truth to tell, I cannot explain it, nor do I think 
 it to be any proof that there is aught amiss with me, or 
 ever was. I believe that dumb beasts may be governed by 
 motives of caprice, even as human beings are, and that they 
 can take likes and dislikes and act upon them as stub- 
 bornly as their masters. 
 
 My father was a breeder and owner of forest ponies, 
 and once in the year they were collected from the moors, 
 where they used to run wild during a great part of the 
 year. The foals were branded, the numbers of the yearlings 
 and two-year-olds counted, and such amongst the rest as 
 were old enough and strong enough for work were taken 
 up and broken in, and sold in the neighbourhood at the 
 various fairs to such as were wanting the like. 
 
 Now it chanced that one of the ponies thus driven in 
 and kept for breaking, soon after my return from Ilminster, 
 was a particularly handsome animal. He had a coat as 
 black as the raven's wing, and eyes as large and soft as 
 those of a deer; when he galloped round and round the 
 field in which he was placed, he seemed scarce to touch 
 the ground, and his pace was such that none could come 
 anigh him save by artfulness or coaxing. And he would 
 not suffer so much as a halter to be put upon him, but 
 tossed his head and was off like a lightning flash, and 
 cared not whom he overtlirew and maimed as he wrested
 
 MY CAREER IS SETTLED. 27 
 
 himself away ; so that two of our men had been sorely 
 hurt by him, and the rest began to say that handsome as 
 he was, and valuable as he would prove could we but get 
 the mastery over him, yet he had plainly been bewitched, 
 and was possessed of a devil of malice and wickedness, and 
 to try to tame him would be but labour thrown away. 
 In good sooth, before long people came so to fear him that 
 my father had perforce to say reluctantly that he was past 
 breaking, and must either be sent back to the moor to run 
 wild all his days, or be shot to rid him of the evil fiend 
 within. 
 
 Now when I heard them talk thus I was grieved to the 
 heart, for I greatly admired the beautiful creature, and 
 had more than once stolen into the field when none else 
 had been b}^, and had coaxed him to come and eat out of 
 my hand, sometimes giving him a bit of bread or a morsel 
 of sugar that I had reserved from mine own breakfast or 
 midday meal, and which he came to look for now as his 
 right. He would rub his nose upon my shoulder, and 
 seemed to like the feel of my hands caressing his ears and 
 his neck. It seemed to me that I could even make shift 
 to put a halter upon him if I tried ; but I had never dared 
 to do so hitherto, lest they should say I was spoiling him — 
 it being always thought that I knew nothing of the ways 
 of beasts or how to manage them. 
 
 Nevertheless it was allowed by all that I could ride. 
 Not being gifted with the strength of the others for walk- 
 ing, I had been suffered to ride one of the forest ponies 
 from the time I was little more than an infant. I could
 
 28 MY CAREER IS SETTLED. 
 
 ride barebacked across country without a qualm of fear, 
 and I had little doubt that if once I could make a spring 
 and place myself upon the back of this unruly pony, I 
 should be able to master him forthwith. 
 
 Well, to make a long story short, and to avoid the 
 appearance of praising myself, I will only say that when 
 all others had given him up, I went to the refractory colt 
 and used my methods upon him. There was no magic in 
 these ; that I will swear if need be. But I made the crea- 
 ture fond of me by gentle caresses and endearing words, 
 and when I was sure of his affection I was able to do what 
 I would with him. He scarcely resented the halter when 
 it was put upon him : and though the first time he felt the 
 bit between his teeth he tossed his head and his eyes grew 
 red and angry, yet a few kind words and caresses recon- 
 ciled him even to this ; and he made no plunge or unruly 
 demonstration when I gently clambered upon his back for 
 the first time, talking all the while and praising him for 
 his docility. I think he looked upon it as another form of 
 caress, and he held his tail and head high as he set to trot 
 with his burden around the field, his long elastic stride 
 seeming to scorn the earth he trod on, and sending thrills 
 of delight through his rider ; for methought it was like 
 the action of one of those winged steeds from Phoebus' 
 chariot, of which I had read in one of my books. 
 
 Erelong Blackbird — for so I came to call him from his 
 colour and his easy pace, which always made me think of 
 flying — would carry me whithersoever I wished, and would 
 follow me about tlie farm like a dog. I always looked to
 
 jWV career is settled. 
 
 29 
 
 him myself within the stable, feeding him with my own 
 hands, and bringing him water in the pail from the clearest 
 spring. Indeed not one of the men cared to approach him, 
 even though he was presently cured of his trick of giving 
 a sly kick to any who passed by. But there was a look in 
 his eye (so at least they said ; I never saw it) which be- 
 spoke the devil within ; and some of the men looked 
 askance even at me, and would whisper, when they saw 
 me tending and caressing my favourite, that it was plain 
 there was a pair of us. Even my father did not quite like 
 it, though he made me a present of Blackbird, and was 
 always rather proud of the conquest I had made. 
 
 Certainly the jDOSsession of this light-footed steed all 
 mine own (and he would suffer none else to mount him 
 even when he had grown tame within stable walls, so 
 that I had the exclusive use of him and all his great 
 strength) added not a little to my happiness and health 
 during the two years which followed my visit to Ilminster. 
 With my books and some food in a wallet at my back, I 
 would start off with the first freshness of the morning, and 
 ride to one of those favourite solitary haunts of which 
 Blackbird and I came to have many. Then turning him 
 loose — for he would always come at a call or a whistle, 
 and indeed seldom strayed far away, having come to guard 
 me almost as a dog guards his master — I would set to 
 study might and main at those arts of caligraphy and cal- 
 culation which I was so wishful to acquire. Moreover. I 
 would also declaim aloud from one of my books, reading 
 out the words loud, and striving to give each its due weight
 
 30 MY CAREER IS SETTLED. 
 
 and meaning, as my aunt Betsy had taught me to do when 
 she made me read to her. And never was boy happier 
 than I all through the long days of summer and the mild 
 sunshiny ones of spring and autumn. I was so hardy by 
 this time that only severe cold drove me within doors ; and 
 there was always a warm corner in the ingle nook where 
 I could sit at ease. As for my sisters, when they had time 
 to do so, they were glad enough for me to read to them 
 out of my immortal Shakespeare, explaining as well as 
 I could the meaning of all I read, and awakening by 
 degrees within them so great a respect for my learning 
 that I found myself at last in the way of being quite 
 fa.mous in our joarish. 
 
 This fame of mine gained for me another advantage, 
 which was the interest taken in me by our jDarson, who 
 came sometimes to overlook my self-imposed tasks, and 
 who of his own accord taught me the axioms and some of 
 the lore of Euclid, and set my brain all in a ferment to 
 puzzle out tlie propositions in tlie little brown volume he 
 lent me. I never, however, became a mathematician of 
 any note, since these studies were destined to be speedily 
 interrupted ; but much of the last winter spent at home 
 was given to the scrawling of lines and cii'cles upon the 
 hearfch-stone with a fragment of charcoal, and my brain 
 certainly grew in those days, and I was conscious of a 
 widening of my mental horizon such as it is impossible to 
 explain in words. 
 
 But soon a great change came into my life. 
 
 It was a beautiful mild day in May. I had been out
 
 AfV CAREER IS SETTLED. 31 
 
 with Blackbird as usual, and riding homewards in time for 
 the supper, I saw our uncle John from Taunton standing 
 in the yard with father. 
 
 Our uncle John was a favourite with us all, and I was 
 well pleased to see him. He had always news to tell of 
 what was going on in the world, and I had begun to desire 
 to know more of this than was possible in our quiet life 
 upon the farm. So I threw myself off Blackbird's back 
 with haste and ran up with my greeting. 
 
 " Hey, Dicon lad, but thou hast mended wonderful for 
 the better since I saw thee last ! " cried Uncle John. " We 
 shall make a man of thee yet, I take it, hunchback or no. 
 What has come to thee, lad ? " 
 
 " I was touched for the King's Evil by our gracious 
 Duke," I answered with enthusiasm, " and since I have 
 been whole from that malady, I have grown in strength 
 and soundness every way. Tell me of the Duke, mine 
 uncle. Where is he ? what does he ? and how goes it with 
 him ? Will he be King after his father ? When will the 
 black box be opened and the truth anent him be brought 
 to light ? " 
 
 My uncle smiled as though he knew more than he would 
 say, but he put his finger to his lips as if to impose caution. 
 
 " Hist, boy, it is not well to wear the heart alwaj^s on 
 the sleeve. The days we live in are something too full of 
 peril. There be wheels within wheels and plots within 
 plots of which we simple country folks know little. 
 Walk warily, and wait till the right moment comes; that 
 is wha.t men in these days have to do."
 
 32 J/V CAREER IS SETTLED. 
 
 I was disappointed at the caution of the answer ; never- 
 theless my uncle did tell us something of the movements 
 of the Duke during the past year. He had made another 
 " progress " through Cheshire and the more northern por- 
 tion of the kingdom, and this progress had been very 
 jealously regarded by the court party. The Duke of York 
 was always the enemy of Monmouth, as was perhaps 
 natural, and the King, who loved them both, had often 
 an evil time of it between them. Sometimes Monmouth 
 seemed in the ascendant, sometimes his black-browed 
 uncle ; and the plots and machinations of scheming" 
 courtiers and ambitious statesmen were without end. I 
 grew bewildered even trying to follow Uncle John's talk 
 about all these fine nobles, whose names I scarcely knew. 
 But when he pulled out from his capacious pocket two or 
 three old " news-letters," as they were then called, and 
 asked if I could read them, I soon became absorbed in the 
 contents to the exclusion of all besides ; for anything new 
 to read was as an elixir to me. And when our father and 
 uncle were smoking their pipes, and mother and the girls 
 washing up and putting away, I began reading loud to 
 them the most interesting bits of news that I could find, 
 quite unaware that Uncle John had ceased to talk with 
 father, and was staring at me open-eyed. 
 
 At last he broke into speech. 
 
 " By the Lord Harry," he exclaimed (a favourite ex- 
 pletive of his), " the boy reads like a parson ! Where did 
 he learn it all ? " 
 
 '' He has always been a scholar," answered mother, with
 
 MY CAREER IS SETTLED. ^^ 
 
 some pride ; " that is what I say to them that pity his 
 crooked back. He has a better head than the best of 
 them. He will be a fine scholar in time. — Dicon, go get thy 
 writing-book, and show thine uncle what thou canst do." 
 
 Aunt Betsy had given me a neat book full of blank 
 paper, and I had taken pains to write my best themes 
 and most lengthy calculations and cipherings into it. I 
 showed it to my uncle with some pride ; and as he turned 
 the leaves I saw him look astonished, impressed, and almost 
 triumphant, and I wondered not a little what could be in 
 his mind. 
 
 " Why, boy," he cried, looking up at me at last, " canst 
 add up rows of figures like that, and bring the right total 
 at the end ? " 
 
 " I trow I can, uncle," I replied with some confidence ; 
 for by this time I knew that I could trust myself to get 
 the right answer however long the sum might be. " Set 
 me down a sum and I will show you. I can reckon in my 
 head too, and I seldom make an error." 
 
 Well, not to be tedious in telling all this — for I find it 
 hard to know just how much to say and how much to 
 leave unsaid in this history — it appeared at length that 
 our uncle's inn in Taunton was becoming so well patronized 
 by all sorts and conditions of men, that he knew not how 
 to find time to keep his books as well as to entertain his 
 guests ; and since neither his wife nor his daughter had 
 any skill with the pen, he was looking about him for 
 somebody whom he could trust to relieve him of those 
 laborious duties of book-keeping which he had hitherto 
 
 (511) 3
 
 34 ^V CAREER IS SETTLED. 
 
 manao-ed to overtake himself, though at the cost of much 
 time and labour. 
 
 Seeing my aptitude at figures, and hearing my fluency 
 at reading aloud, he had been seized with the idea that I 
 should be valuable to him. 
 
 Many and many a time had he wanted the weekly 
 news-letter read aloud to his customers and guests in an 
 evening ; but there was no one with skill enough to make 
 it intelligible thus read. He could read to himself, but 
 had no courage to declaim it to others. Then if only 
 he could have my pen at command during the evening, he 
 could enter easily and rapidly into his books the outgoings 
 of the day, and have bills made out when need was with- 
 out trouble to himself. Like many men of his class, he 
 had a marvellous memory for figures, and could keep a 
 whole day's reckoning in his head without effort ; but the 
 trouble of writing it down afterwards was great, and to 
 be spared that labour he would give much. 
 
 Then he was proud that any nephew of his should 
 possess such talents as I did, and he roundly declared to 
 my father that it would be a sin and a shame to keep 
 such a boy at a farm, where he could learn nothing but 
 what he could teach himself. In Taunton there was a 
 free school to which he would send me by day, to learn all 
 I could there with boys of my own age ; whilst in the 
 evening I should aid him with his books, and read the 
 news-letter to such as desired to hear it, or amuse the 
 guests of the better sort by declaiming to them some of 
 those scenes from Shakespeare or Milton which I had now
 
 AfV CAREER IS SETTLED 35 
 
 by heart, and which my mother made me recite to my 
 uncle to show how clever I was. 
 
 It may well be guessed how excited I was whilst this 
 matter was being discussed over my head. Of course no 
 question was asked of me as to my own disposition in the 
 matter. It was a thing for my father and mother to 
 decide as they would ; and when my mother argued my 
 lack of health and strength of body, my uncle laughed at 
 her, and said I was full strong enough for him ; whilst my 
 father remarked that schooling for a few years would be a 
 grand thing for me, since I should never make a farmer, 
 lived I all my life on the farm, but that in Taunton Town 
 I might rise by my wits to some post such as that of clerk, 
 or schoolmaster, or even parson, and it might be a fine 
 thing for me in the end. 
 
 Uncle John was very liberal in his offer to my parents. 
 He said he would feed and clothe me, give me a groat 
 from time to time for myself, and send me regularly to 
 school for the first year at least, and probably for two 
 years, till I had learned as much as was needful, and then 
 they would see what my future career should be. Uncle 
 John had no son to succeed him in the business, only a 
 daughter, who was likely to wed a son of Mr. Hucker the 
 serge-maker, and that son was more like to take to serge- 
 making than to inn-keeping. A hint was given that if I 
 did well and grew to be a help and comfort to my uncle, 
 I might look even to be his successor in the business. 
 Certainly that would be a grand opening for one who had 
 always been looked upon as likely to do badly in life ; and
 
 2,6 MY CAREER IS SETTLED. 
 
 before the talk had lasted an hour, it was settled, to my 
 great satisfaction, that I was to return with my uncle to 
 Taunton, and remain in his house as an inmate for at least 
 three years. 
 
 How eagerly I made my few simple preparations for 
 leaving home ; and how I counted the hours until I and 
 my uncle were to start off for his home in the town ' 
 Ever since my stay in Ilminster I had greatly desired a 
 town life. I loved my home in a fashion, but it did not 
 satisfy the cravings of my nature. I felt shut up and out 
 of reach of news there. I missed the heart-beat of a great 
 nation, of which I had been dimly conscious when at my 
 aunt's house during the excitement of the Duke's progTess, 
 when so many stirring matters had been discussed daily. 
 I was sure that stirring times were coming upon us. I 
 gathered it from my uncle's words, as well as from certain 
 statements made in the news-letter which I had read. I 
 was conscious that there were things of great moment 
 going on in the world of which we country folk knew 
 nothing. I wanted to know more — to be in the thick of 
 the tumult and the strife. Little knew I how fully 
 my aspirations would be fulfilled during my residence in 
 Taunton, and how fearful would be the scenes upon which 
 I was destined to look in days to come ! 
 
 I was up with the lark upon the following morning ; 
 and whilst I was attending to Blackbird and diligently 
 grooming off from his sleek sides the last remnants of his 
 winter coat, my uncle came in at the door and stood look- 
 ing at me with an air of approval.
 
 MY CAREER IS SETTLED. 
 
 37 
 
 "So 3'ou know how to groom a horse as well as how to 
 read a book ? " he said. " That is a pretty pony you have 
 there. I never saw a better made animal. He will be a 
 fine fellow to go, I take it ; and a rare weight-carrier, if 
 my eye does not deceive me. How old is he ? " 
 
 " Five this spring, and he can go like the wind. He's 
 been broken these two years ; but he will not let any ride 
 him save me. Uncle, may I take him with me to 
 Taunton ? If he goes not with me, he must be turned 
 loose to forget all his breaking, and be a wild thing again ; 
 for he will not suffer any rider on his back save me only." 
 
 Uncle John made me tell all the story of Blackbird's 
 refractory youth and of my success with him, and at the 
 end gave a cordial assent to my request to take my favour- 
 ite with me. 
 
 " To be sure, boy, to be sure. You will want something 
 to ride even in the town. There is many an errand I 
 shall send you now which I have had to do myself 
 hitherto. You know something of fat beasts and milch 
 cows, I take it, else you are scarce your father's son ; and 
 if you know not how to drive a bargain yet, Uncle John 
 will soon teach you ! " 
 
 At that we both laughed, and I felt already as though 
 raised to man's estate by being thus addressed by my uncle. 
 
 The taking of Blackbird to Taunton Town made my 
 departure from home a matter of much less regret to me ; 
 for the distance being less than seven miles, and Blackbird 
 making nothing of my weight or of that distance, I could 
 when occasion served pay ready visits to my father's house,
 
 38 MV CAREER IS SETTLED. 
 
 notwithstanding the fact that the road was in evil plight, 
 as was the fashion with roads then (a matter which time 
 has seen considerably amended, and may amend even more 
 as coaches seem to grow more and more in favour), and 
 highwaymen made travelling ofttimes dangerous, even for 
 such as owned but small worldly wealth. 
 
 How well I remember our start on that bright May 
 morning ! Blackbird seemed to partake of my joy, and 
 held his head proudly, whisked his long tail to and fro, 
 and arched his neck and looked so proud and gay withal 
 that my uncle kept regarding him with approving eyes, 
 and more than once remarked, " Thou shouldst teach him 
 to turn a lady's palfrey, nephew Dicon, and he would put 
 a pretty penny in thy pocket ! " 
 
 But I thought I preferred the feel of my eager steed 
 between my knees to any gold in my purse. Blackbird 
 and I had been comrades and friends too long for the 
 thought of parting with him to have any attractions for 
 me. I patted his glossy neck, and was glad his exclusive 
 preference for me would brook no other rider. As we 
 galloped across the moorland that day, making wide circuits 
 from the road in our exuberance of spirit, and returning 
 to join my uncle's sober roadster when we had had our fill 
 of motion and fresh air, he would give an approving nod 
 and say, " Fine pony that ; and you know how to ride, boy. 
 When you go a-wooing it had better be on horseback. 
 Pity one can't sell the steed ! he would fetch a pretty 
 price. We'll see, we'll see ! Maybe he will learn sense 
 in the air of a town."
 
 J/V CAREER IS SETTLED. 
 
 39 
 
 I had once spent a night at my uncle John's inn, on the 
 occasion of my journey to Ihninster. Although living so 
 near to Taunton as we did, I had never been in the way 
 of going thither. My mother loved not towns and their 
 ways ; and though I had liberty to scour the country round 
 at will on Blackbird, I was always bidden to keep to the 
 open country, and never to extend my excursions to either 
 of the towns within reach of us. So that after we had 
 passed Volis Cross and descended the hill, the country was 
 almost strange to me, and I eagerly demanded the name of 
 every house and hamlet we passed, until my attention Avas 
 completely absorbed by our entrance into Taunton itself. 
 
 That fine town, which will always be the queen of towns 
 to me, was looking its best and gayest upon that brilliant 
 May evening. The clocks were chiming six as we I'ode 
 across the bridge into North Street, and it seemed to me 
 that there must be something going on ; for the town was 
 plainly en fete — -the streets decked with garlands, and the 
 people saluting each other with the gayest of gay greet- 
 ings, as though all hearts were in tune for merriment. 
 
 " What is it ? what does it mean ? " I asked of my uncle ; 
 and he looked surprised at the question as he replied, — 
 
 " Why, boy, dost live so nigh to Taunton and not know 
 that to-morrow is the eleventh day of May ? " 
 
 I certainly knew that, for I had a calendar of mine own, 
 and studied it with care ; but why Taunton should be so 
 joyful on that account I did not know, and my puzzled 
 face said as much. 
 
 " Why, boy," he said again, " thee such a scholar, and
 
 40 MY CAREER IS SETTLED. 
 
 not to know how the good folks of Taunton suffered and 
 starved when holding the town for the Parliament against 
 that villain Goring, who sought to win it back to its 
 allegiance to a traitor King ? Hast never read that page 
 of history, nor how it was relieved on the eleventh day of 
 May ? Well, that is why we keep the day with garlands 
 and songs and rejoicings, as thou wilt see to-morrow. 
 Marry, they say that the King likes it not well, and our 
 Mayor looks sourly on our sports, and threatens us with 
 penalties if we are thus disloyal to the monarchy. But 
 the people will e'en go t^eir own way. The King has done 
 his part to gain their ill-will, as doubtless thou wilt learn 
 in good time. Where are our stately walls that once held 
 at bay the thousands of a false King's troops ? Where are 
 many of the noble buildings and commodious houses which 
 once adorned the Eastreech and East Street ? He has 
 worked his will on them. He has destroyed and ravaged at 
 pleasure. But the mind and the heart and the will of the 
 citizens are not his. If he takes away our charter (which 
 he did, though we have it again now), he wins not the love 
 of the people. We give him loyal and liege service, but 
 we do not give him love and trust." 
 
 My uncle's face M^as rather grim as he spoke thus, and 
 I understood that I had come to a place where the divine 
 right of kings, in which I had believed until now, was not 
 greatly regarded. The story of the nation had not formed 
 one of my studies. I knew little enough of the events of 
 the past century, albeit my father had lived through the 
 great civil war, and had seen some fighting, though holding
 
 MV CAREER IS SETTLED. 41 
 
 aloof from it himself. I had not thought much of any- 
 thing save the position of the Duke of Monmouth, and the 
 hope that he would one day be King. As I rode through 
 the streets of Taunton and saw the decorations being put 
 up for the morrow, I felt indeed that a new life was open- 
 ing before me, and that I was now to learn many things 
 which hitherto had been but names to me.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 AfV NEW HOME. 
 
 " The eleventh of May was a joyful day, 
 When Taunton got relief ; 
 Which turned our sorrow into joy, 
 And eased us of our grief. 
 
 " The Taunton men were valiant then 
 In keeping of the to\vn, 
 While many of those who were our foes 
 Lay gasping on the ground. 
 
 " Wlien Colonel Massey, of the same, 
 Did understand aright, 
 He, like a man of courage bold. 
 Prepared himself to fight. 
 
 " With that our soldiers one and all 
 
 Cast uja their caps, and cried, 
 ' What need we fear what man can do, 
 Since God is on our side ? ' 
 
 " Long time did Goring lie encamped 
 
 Against fair Taunton To-\vn ; 
 
 He made a vow to starve us out. 
 
 And batter our castle down. 
 
 " Within our castle did remain 
 (A garrison so strong) 
 Those likely lads which did unto 
 Our Parliament belong. 
 
 "Before daylight appeared in view, 
 
 The nerws to them was come 
 
 That Goring and his cursed crew 
 
 Were all dispersed and gone.
 
 MY NEW HOME. 43 
 
 " But who can tell what joy was there, 
 And what content of mind 
 Was put into the hearts of those 
 Who'd been so long confined ? 
 
 "Our bread was fourteenpence per pound, 
 And all things sold full dear ; 
 Which made our soldiers make short meals 
 And pinch themselves full near. 
 
 " Our beer was eighteenpence per quart 
 (As for a truth was told). 
 And butter eighteenpence per pound 
 To Christians there was sold. 
 
 "The Cavaliers dispersed with fear. 
 And forced were to run. 
 On the eleventh of May, by break of day. 
 Ere rising of the sun." 
 
 IT was with the words of this song, chanted by a number 
 of voices in the street below, that I was awakened 
 upon the first morning of my residence in my new home. 
 
 I had slept profoundly, despite the excitements of my 
 arrival ; and when I awoke suddenly, roused by the sound 
 of this unfamiliar chant, it took me some moments to re- 
 collect where I was, and to convince myself that I was not 
 dreaming still. The moment that memory returned to me 
 I sprang out of bed, and putting my head out of the open 
 window, tried to obtain a view of the singers below. 
 
 But this I was unable to do, as I might have known had 
 I taken pains to consider. My room was high up in the 
 quaint old inn, which even in my youth was accounted an 
 old house. It looked upon the court-yard behind, where 
 the stables lay, and where hostlers were already passing to 
 and fro. I remembered well that I had observed this last 
 night, and that I had also remarked with satisfaction how
 
 44 MY A^EIV HOME. 
 
 my window was provided with a little Avooden balcony, of 
 which the house had many. It was in an angle of the 
 building above the stables, and not in the main block of 
 the house where the guests were lodged. Near at hand, 
 and at right angles, rose the walls of another house, which 
 I could see was not a part of the inn. It did not look so 
 old, and it was more like a gentleman's private residence, 
 I thought. All the windows were close curtained, and I 
 could not gather anything as to the character of its inhab- 
 itants. It seemed passing strange to me then that houses 
 should be thus locked together ; and I was calculating with 
 what ease I could make shift by the aid of a water-pipe 
 to get in at the window of this house were it left open, 
 and possess myself of anything the room contained, when 
 the sound of an impatient neigh from the yard below 
 warned me that time was getting- on, and that Blackbird 
 was probably still unfed (for I had warned the men not to 
 go to him at first, save in my presence), and that he was 
 asking for his breakfast as plainly as though he could utter 
 human speech. 
 
 I, too, was in a great hurry to be up and doing, and to 
 see some of the wonders of the town of which I was in 
 future to be a resident. In a few moments I was dressed 
 (words of the song below still floating up to me clearly 
 enough, and getting fixed in my memory, as all words with 
 rhyme and rhythm have a trick of doing), and was ready 
 to try to find my way down the curious stairways and 
 along the intricate passages I had traversed last night 
 under the guidance of my cousin Meg. It was not so easy
 
 AfV NEW HOME. 45 
 
 as I expected, but as yet nobody in that part of the house 
 was stirring. It was still very early, for all that the sun 
 was shining brightly ; and I had Blackbird fed, and was 
 ready and eager to be out in the streets before there was 
 any sign of my uncle or aunt to be seen. 
 
 However, my impatience was too great to be stayed 
 by any thought of a rebuke later, and plunging under the 
 archway which led from the street to the yard, I found 
 myself in the open sj)ace where East Street and Fore Street 
 join, and looked about me with a lively curiosity, wondering 
 where I should go and what I should do. 
 
 The singers were no longer in sight ; they had passed on, 
 and the wide streets were almost empty. But as I stood 
 looking admiringly about me, a boy of about my own age 
 came swinging along with a parcel under his arm, whistling 
 the very tune I had heard set to the words I have just 
 quoted. 
 
 I looked curiously at him, and ho returned my glance 
 with interest. No doubt he was familiar with most of the 
 faces of the towns-folk in these parts, and wondered who I 
 was. Perhaps my crooked back attracted his notice, but I 
 did not think of that then, and noting that he half paused 
 as though not unwilling to speak, I wished him good- 
 morning, and he returned the salutation. 
 
 There was something so bright and friendly in his smile 
 as he did so that I found courage to say, " Are you going 
 somewhere ? May I go with you ? " 
 
 " Why, yes, if you like," he answered readily. " I am 
 going to my work. I am apprenticed to Master Simpson
 
 46 MY NEW HOME. 
 
 of High Street. If you know aught of Taunton, doubtless 
 you have heard of him." 
 
 " But I do not. I only came hither yester-e'en with 
 mine uncle. I am nephew to John Snowe of the Three 
 Cups yonder. I am to dwell with him, and go to the Free 
 School here. I would fain know all I can of Taunton 
 Town. It is a right fair city. I like it well." 
 
 " And you have come on a good day ! " cried my new 
 friend, with brightening eyes. " To-night, so soon as the 
 sun be down, we shall light a great bonfire in Paul's Fields, 
 and all the town will be there to see. Ah ! I would I had 
 lived in the days when Taunton Town held for the Parlia- 
 ment against King Charles ! But it may be even yet that 
 we may some of us live to see fine doings and hard fight- 
 ing ; for if the King dies before his brother, and the Papist 
 Duke of York sits upon the throne — " 
 
 The lad paused as if struck by the magnitude of the 
 thought within him, and I glanced round to be sure we 
 were not overheard, and asked with keen interest, " Well, 
 and what then ? " 
 
 " Why, then, methinks there would be hard blows struck 
 for the rightful heir, the young Duke of Monmouth," 
 answered the boy, with sparkling eyes. " All Taunton and 
 the West Country would rise for him, as they rose for the 
 rights of the nation against the King's father. The pol- 
 troons of London may lick the dust before a Papist usurper, 
 but not we of the free West Country ! We will know the 
 reason why before we bow to a Papist, be he never so 
 much the Kincr's brother ! "
 
 MV NEW HOME. 
 
 47 
 
 The boldness of this boy astonished me greatly, and also 
 his evident comprehension of the burning questions of the 
 day, with which I myself was but imperfectly acquainted. 
 My heart always warmed within me at any mention of the 
 Duke of Monmouth, and I eagerly plunged into the story 
 of my own miraculous cure at the hands of his Grace — a 
 tale to which my companion listened with kindling eyes. 
 
 " Marry, but thou shalt come with me and tell it to my 
 master ! " he said, as I ended. " If proof were lacking, there 
 it is ; for none save a lawful King or his lawful heir can 
 cure the King's Evil. There will be a ready welcome for 
 thee at Master Simpson's. He is one that is bound heart 
 and soul to the cause of the Duke." 
 
 " And what is thy name ? " I asked, as I willingly 
 allowed myself to be led whither my comrade would. 
 
 " Will Wiseman is my name, and I be apprenticed to 
 Master Simpson, as I have said. I dwell beneath his roof ; 
 but yester-eve I visited my aunt in the North Street, and 
 tarried with her till dawn. Thou sayest thou art nephew 
 to Master Snowe of the Three Cups ? He is a good man, 
 one of our Capital Burgesses ; and we take it he would be 
 stanch to the good cause if the time should come for men 
 to declare themselves." 
 
 I was considerably impressed by Will's way of talking. 
 It was as though he were living in a world of which I 
 knew almost nothing ; as though he were looking forward 
 to something definite and expected, whilst to me the 
 future was absolutely blank and vague. I felt my igno- 
 rance so great that I did not know so much as how to
 
 48 MY NEW HOME. 
 
 frame questions ; but I was saved the trouble of doing this 
 partly from the eager talk of my companion, partly from 
 our speedy arrival at our destination. For soon after we 
 had passed the bend in High Sweet, where it turns sharp 
 to the right toward Shuttern, Will paused before a door 
 with a right goodly sign hanging above it ; and after 
 obtaining entrance, began quickly taking down the shut- 
 ters, in which office I gave him what assistance I could, so 
 that soon the bright light of morning was streaming into 
 the interior of the shop. 
 
 So soon as this was the case I stood open-mouthed in 
 admiration and wonder, for I had never seen so goodly a 
 shop in all my life before. Master Simpson must be a 
 man of much substance — so much I could see at a glance 
 — and his wares were beautiful to the eye and delicate to 
 the touch. There were bales of costly silk set in a mighty 
 pyramid in one place ; and cloths and lawns, and the good 
 serge manufactured in Taunton Town, disposed with a 
 simple eye to effect, in due order along shelves and in the 
 large window. And besides all these things, there was an 
 inner shop, visible through an archway, in which I saw a 
 sight that made my mouth water ; for there were shelves, 
 guarded by wire doors, in which hundreds of books were 
 arranged in tempting order — books new and books old — a 
 sight that drew me like a magnet, so that I forgot Will 
 and his work, forgot the strangeness of the house and my 
 lack of manners, and went straight to the book-cases and 
 began reading the names of the volumes one by one, speak- 
 ino- them half aloud without knowing- it.
 
 MV NEW HOME. 49 
 
 I was aroused by feeling a strong hand laid upon my 
 shoulder, and by the sound of a friendly voice in my ear. 
 
 " Hey, but we have a scholar here, in good sooth ! So 
 thou art nephew to good Master Snowe, Will tells me ; and 
 hast been touched for King's Evil by our gracious Duke ? 
 Now, boy, tell me all about that, and how the cure was 
 made, and I will give thee a book for th}^ pains ; for it 
 may be that this cure of thine shall be a notable thing in 
 the annals of the day that be coming." 
 
 The speaker was plainly the master of the house and 
 shop. He was soberly habited, as became his condition in 
 life ; but he had a strong face as well as a strong hand 
 and voice, and I felt drawn towards him I scarce knew 
 why, and told him my tale very gladly, with the aioYy of 
 my own brief and uneventful life to boot. 
 
 He listened with attention, nodding his head the while. 
 Heaven forgive me if I did amiss. I had no thought to 
 deceive him or others, but I spoke no word of the man of 
 herbs and potions, nor of the ointments I had been using 
 for my wounds ere ever the Duke's hand touched me. In 
 good sooth, I had scarce ever thought of him and his 
 simples since. Never for a moment did I believe that 
 these had had anything to do with my cure. It is only 
 long since, when I have heard from others how in nature 
 there be such marvellous cures for human ills to be found 
 by those who have skill and faith to seek them aright, tliat 
 I have wondered if perchance it was the herb baths and 
 ointments, and not the touch of the Duke's white hand, 
 that made me whole and sound. But in those daj^s no 
 
 (511) 4
 
 50 MV A^'EIV HOME. 
 
 such thought ever came to me. I had well-nigh forgotten 
 the kind old man with his long beard, and of him I spoke 
 no word ; only telling how weak and ill I was and had 
 been from childhood, and how soon after I had besought 
 the Duke to touch me I became sound and whole, and 
 had no return of the Evil, which none but such a one as 
 lie could cure. 
 
 Master Simpson heard me with great satisfaction, and 
 kept his word right generously, making me the proud and 
 happy possessor of a small copy of " yEsop's Fables," with 
 the Latin on one side of the page and the English on the 
 other— a treasure that in those days was even more costly 
 than it has become now, and which in spite of its shabby 
 binding was looked upon as of exceeding worth. 
 
 " Thou hadst better learn the Latin tongue, an thou hast 
 the chance at the Free School," said Master Simpson. 
 " Learning is a grand thing, and will be a mighty power 
 in the days to come. Learn all thou canst, boy, when 
 thou art young. The time may come when thou wilt not 
 have the leisure ; make the most of that leisure now." 
 
 I was well disposed to carry out that sage advice, being 
 greedy after knowledge, and I almost longed to run away 
 then and there to study my book, and see if I could make 
 out aught of the strange Latin words. Even the posses- 
 sion of such a book made me feel almost a scholar. But I 
 could not refuse the invitation of Master Simpson to come 
 and take breakfast with him, albeit my uncle and aunt 
 might well be wondering what had become of me. But, 
 as I reflected, the hostlers would tell him I had risen and
 
 MY NEW HOME. 51 
 
 gone abroad, and upon this festive holiday I did not tliiidv 
 I should be chidden for my early walk. 
 
 Behind the shop was a pleasant parlour, and behind that 
 again a kitchen, from whence a savoury odour proceeded. 
 It gave one an appetite even to scent it, and I was nothing 
 loath to follow the mercer into that same kitchen, where a 
 goodly fire burned on the hearth, and a merry-faced young 
 maiden was flitting about setting trenchers on the table, 
 and humming a gay ditty the while. She made a rever- 
 ence as we came in, and her father (for she was none other 
 than the master's daughter) gave her a blessing ; after 
 which he turned him to a portly dame who was taking a 
 steaming pot from the fire, and bid her good-morn, telling 
 her my name and state, and how I was come to Taunton 
 to make a scholar of myself. 
 
 From the likeness which showed itself between the pair 
 before me, I felt assured that they must be brother and 
 sister, as was indeed the case. Master Simpson was a 
 widower, but his sister kept house for him, and played a 
 mother's part to the J^oung Eliza, who gave her almost a 
 daughter's love. It w^as pleasant to see so much affection 
 between those of a household, for at home, albeit we all 
 loved each other well, it was not our fashion to show it ; 
 wherefore it seemed pretty to me to watch the sly caresses 
 which Eliza would bestow upon her father, or the way in 
 which Mistress Susan's glance softened when she addressed 
 herself to the maid. 
 
 Will Wiseman and a young man who served in the shop, 
 but who spoke no word and gave himself only to making
 
 52 MY NEW HOME. 
 
 a right royal meal, sat at table with us, though somewhat 
 apart ; and ever and anon Will would put in a word when 
 his master turned to him with a question. He plainly- 
 heard and gave heed to everything that passed, with a 
 keen intelligence that was shown in the glance of his eye 
 and in the ready way in which his words came when he 
 had occasion to speak. I took a great liking to Will from 
 the first moment of our acquaintance, and everything I 
 noted about him increased the good-will I bore him. 
 
 We had a merry meal, and I told the story of my cure 
 yet once again that day. Lizzie's eyes brightened at 
 the tale (Eliza was always called Lizzie both at home and 
 abroad, since it appeared that there were many Elizas in 
 the town, and confusion apt to arise), and she clasped her 
 hands together and cried, — 
 
 " Faith, but Miss Blake will greatly rejoice to hear this ! 
 I will tell her forthwith, and I warrant me I shall be high 
 in favour all the day for the same story. Good Dicon, 
 thou wilt be a rare favourite in Taunton Town an thou 
 dost uphold here the rights of our well-loved Duke ! " 
 
 •' Hist, lassie ! " answered her father, yet smiling never- 
 theless. " It behoves us to talk with care even in Taunton 
 Town. Let not such words be heard by the Rev. Mr. Axe, 
 nor still less by Mr. Blewer. The Duke hath his foes as 
 well as his friends within the town. We must not hurt 
 a good cause by over-zeal ere the right moment comes." 
 
 Lizzie laughed, and asked with a pretty, saucy air who 
 would trouble to take note of the words of such an obscure 
 maiden as herself ; and then she looked at the clock and
 
 MY NEW HOME. 53 
 
 sprang up, and said she must even go, or she should be late, 
 and Miss Blake would chide. And I then learned that Miss 
 Blake was the mistress of the school where this maiden 
 went daily for instruction, and moreover that it stood 
 adjoining my uncle's inn, and must indeed be the house I 
 had been wondering about in looking from my windows on 
 awakening this very morning. 
 
 So on understanding this much, I sprang up and asked 
 leave to escort pretty Lizzie to her school ; and soon we 
 were walking along the garlanded streets, and ^he was 
 telling me how greatly Miss Blake and Mrs. Musgrave 
 loved the Duke, and how dear his cause was to the hearts 
 of the people of Taunton. I also learned that Miss Blake 
 and Mrs. Musgrave were two ladies of virtue and learning, 
 and that they had each kept a school for girls in the be- 
 ginning, but had now joined these two seminaries into one. 
 Miss Blake took the younger maidens, and Mrs. Musgrave 
 the elder ones ; and my comj)anion chattered so fast about 
 her companions, telling me their names, ages, and accom- 
 plishments with such fluency, that I was quite bewildered ; 
 and the only item of information which I retained in my 
 head was that there was one, Mary Mead, a youthful 
 heiress, some years older than any of her companions, who 
 had been educated by Mrs. Musgrave, and still remained in 
 her charge, although since she was now of marriageable 
 age it was likely that her condition in life would speedily 
 be changed. 
 
 We parted the best of friends at the door of the semi- 
 nary, where some other maidens were assembling, who
 
 54 MY NEW HOME. 
 
 looked curiously upon me as I took off my cap and made 
 my best bow to them all. The door of the school was 
 a few paces round the corner, and the house was of fine 
 proportions. I well understood as I looked at it — Lizzie 
 and her companions having now disappeared within — how 
 it was that my room over our stable buildings approached 
 so nigh to it. I felt a good deal of interest in the close 
 vicinity of these bright-faced town maidens, who seemed 
 so different from the country girls I had lived amongst 
 hitherto. Not that I would disparage mine own sisters 
 and their friends ; but there were a brightness and ease of 
 manner and readiness of wit amongst these damsels which 
 dazzled and captivated me, and which I had never seen 
 at home. 
 
 When I got back to the inn, I found breakfast well-nigfh 
 done ; but I received no chiding for my absence, especially 
 when I said whither I had been and with whom. Master 
 Simpson was plainly a notable man of good repute in 
 Taunton, and a friend of mine uncle's to boot. My uncle, 
 too, was pleased at the gift of the book which I had re- 
 ceived, arguing that Master Simpson must have thought 
 well of my scholarship. I read him two or three of the 
 fables; whereat he laughed not a little, and bid me hold 
 myself in readiness to amuse his guests therewith on an- 
 other occasion. 
 
 I was not to go to school till the following week, and 
 to-day I had leave to wander whither I would, to see what 
 I could and what I most desired, and enjoy the merry- 
 makino; of the town.
 
 MY NEW HOME. 55 
 
 My cousin Meg, a line buxom lass of nigh upon twenty 
 summers, was all agog to go with me ; and I was proud 
 enough to have such a companion. So after I had helped 
 her with her dishes and so forth, being skilled in many 
 feminine tasks through helping my mother at home when 
 she and the girls were pressed, she donned her holiday 
 gown and gayest hood — and well she became them both, 
 as I failed not to tell her — and I put on my best clothes, 
 which seemed to me fine enough even if somewhat lacking 
 in the grace and fashion I saw in some of the towns-folk 
 of the better sort ; and forth we sallied to see the sights of 
 the town, and to enjoy any revelry that might be going. 
 
 The best of the merry-making would be towards evening, 
 when the shops would close, and the apprentices and shop- 
 men be free to join ; but even now there was plenty to see 
 and to admire. The fine proportions of the streets and 
 public buildings filled me with a great wonder ; and when 
 we dived down a passage past Huish's Almshouse, and 
 came out in front of St. Mary's Church, I stood still and 
 silent in speechless admiration, marvelling at its wondrous 
 beauty and lofty dignity, and asking of myself whether 
 St. Paul's itself in fair London town could be as goodly 
 a sight. 
 
 It so chanced that service was going on, and nothing 
 would serve me but that I must go in and hear what 
 it was like. Meg was willing enough to gratify me : for 
 from being bred a dissenter, like the majority of the towns- 
 folk, she attended the services of the dissenting flock in 
 Paul's Meeting Sunday by Sunday ; and the oflBces of the
 
 56 MY NEW HOME. 
 
 Establishment, which she was wont to hear stigmatized as 
 " Popish," were quite unfamiliar to her, and had therefore 
 a certain fascination. 
 
 There were two clergymen taking part in the service ; 
 and when we were in the street again, Meg said to me 
 (interrupting my raptures about the architectural beauties 
 of the place), — 
 
 " He with the grey hair peeping from beneath his wig 
 is Mr. Axe. He is much beloved in Taunton, although 
 men say that he is an enemy to the Duke of Monmouth, 
 and tells men freely that he can never be lawful King, but 
 that if the King dies childless, as seems like, we must sub- 
 mit to see the Duke of York upon the throne — a thing 
 which is abhorrent to the minds of many. Yet in spite of 
 this he is loved and trusted. But the other, Mr. Blewer, 
 is hated and feared. I scarce know why we all think so 
 ill of him, but he hath a cruel face and an evil eye ; and 
 some say that he is the bitter foe of all who follow not the 
 teachings of the Established Church, whilst there be others 
 who call him a Papist at heart, and say that when the 
 Duke of York is King (if ever such a day comes, which 
 Heaven forbid !) he will show what manner of man he is, 
 and evil will fall upon many in Taunton through him." 
 
 " He has a bad face and a cruel mouth," I answered, 
 having studied his face with a sense of reluctant fascination 
 for which I could not account as I knelt in the church. 
 Could it have been that some presentiment of his cruelty 
 stole over me even then ? I know not how that may be, 
 but I do know that though my hair is now grey, and
 
 MY NE]V HOME. 
 
 57 
 
 though I have lived beyond the allotted span of man's 
 days, I cannot even now think of that misci-eaut without 
 a tingling of the blood in my veins such as I seldom ex- 
 perience for aught besides. 
 
 That day was a notable one in my life, although it seems 
 like a dream now. I looked upon the outside of many a 
 noble building — St. James's Church ; Paul's Meeting, which 
 I was to worship in for a time ; the Castle ; the Free 
 School, which I was to know right well erelong ; and the 
 Almshouses, which had been erected by the charitable in 
 bygone years for the benefit of the aged poor. 
 
 The town was all bedecked with flags and garlands, and 
 the bands of singers went about chanting their ditties, 
 receiving rewards from many of the richer and more pros- 
 perous of the towns-folk, as well as the humbler, who were 
 all so devoted to the cause of what they termed " liberty 
 and right." 
 
 In the evening there was a grand bonfire in Paul's Field, 
 and another in Priory Fields at the other extremity of the 
 town. 
 
 Will Wiseman and I joined forces, and rushed from one 
 to the other, getting an excellent view of both; and we 
 danced around the fire with the best of them, and hooted 
 for the Duke of York and the Pope, and shouted for the 
 King and the Duke of Monmouth, until at last we had no 
 voice left wherewith to shout more. When the embers 
 burned low, and the sherifi"s ofiicer came to bid the people 
 disperse, we went reluctantly home with the crowd, talking 
 in friendly whispers of the glorious days that perhaps were
 
 58 MY NEW HOME. 
 
 coming, when we should be able to show the metal of 
 which we were made, and almost ready to wish for the 
 excitements and horrors of another civil war, if only we 
 might bear a share in its glory and its danger. 
 
 We had heard so many stories from the bystanders who 
 did remember those days, that our blood was fired, and we 
 ardently longed for a repetition of such exciting events. 
 
 Well, we were destined to see something of bloodshed 
 before many years had passed over our heads, and one of 
 us was to shed his blood — as he sincerely longed at that 
 moment to do, but whether in the fashion that came about 
 it is not for me to say here. 
 
 And so ended my first eventful day in Taunton Town.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 M V NE W L IFE. 
 
 IF I were to begin to set down in order all the many 
 things that happened to me without and within the 
 town of Taunton during the early days of my residence 
 there, I should go far to fill a volume ere ever I had 
 reached the matters of which it is my intention more 
 particularly to speak. 
 
 So I must strive after all the brevity of a skilled master 
 of the craft of penmanship and story -telling, and seek to 
 skim the cream from the surface of events, without weary- 
 ing the reader with overmuch detail. 
 
 Let me say, in the first place, that I was very happy in 
 my new life. I was kindly treated by my relatives. I 
 made myself useful to my uncle in many ways, and I was 
 a favourite with his guests, who delighted to hear the news 
 of the day read to them whilst they smoked their pipes at 
 ease, and who were all ready to talk with me when the 
 reading was over, one telling me one bit of public gossip, 
 and another another, till my mind was quite a storehouse 
 of information, and I was able to talk upon almost any 
 subject with the air of one who knew something about it. 
 
 The reputation for cleverness and knowledge which I
 
 6o MY NEW LIFE. 
 
 soon gained (though in good sooth it was less knowledge 
 than a good memory that I possessed) gave me a small 
 standing of mine own in the place, and I had quite a brisk 
 little business erelong, in writing letters for those who 
 could not do it for themselves, and getting them passed on 
 by trusty hands, by means of some of the many visitors 
 who passed to and fro between our town and other places. 
 My uncle let me keep for myself all such moneys as I 
 gained in this fashion, and so I was able to take home to 
 my mother and sisters presents which made them open 
 their eyes wide in amaze, on the occasions when I mounted 
 Blackbird and rode over to my former home. I was 
 looked upon now as a person of some importance ; and 
 although only a lad of thirteen summers, I felt as if I 
 should soon arrive at man's estate. 
 
 I had something to sufter at the Free School from the 
 gibes and the envy of the other boys, who liked not to be 
 surpassed at their books by the " hunchback clown " — such 
 was their name for me for a time — and who paid me 
 many an ill turn and played off many a malicious trick, 
 until at last they wearied of it, or I gradually grew into 
 favour, I scarce knew which, and I was let alone to go 
 mine own way. But in spite of all this I was happy in 
 my school hours, for I was learning every day something 
 new ; and if the boys misliked me, the masters took good 
 heed of me and favoured my thirst after knowledge, so 
 that I was able to study with zeal and success, and to win 
 the praise of Mr. Axe, who would come from time to time 
 to hear the boys recite, or to ask them questions from
 
 MY NEW LIFE. 6i 
 
 Scripture or secular history, and wlio never left without a 
 word of kindness for me. 
 
 I came to revere and love Mr. Axe right well. He was 
 not truly the Vicar of beauteous St. Mary's Church. The 
 Vicar, in very sooth, was one Mr. Hart, who was (so it was 
 told me) also Canon of Bristol and Prebendary of Wells, 
 so that he had but scant time to think of his duties here. 
 Mr. Axe, however, supplied all that was lacking, and was 
 greatly beloved by us — as much beloved as Mr. Blewer 
 was mistrusted and feared : for we would cross the 
 street to avoid coming within the radius of his basilisk 
 glance ; and I for one never saw him without the feeling 
 that he would prove a cruel foe ere we had seen the last 
 of him. 
 
 Now I had scarce been a month at my uncle's house 
 before a great excitement befell us, and a great fear fell 
 upon many of our towns-folk ; for it was rumoured that 
 this thing would lose the Duke of Monmouth his head, and 
 that even if his life were spared he would have to fly the 
 country, and be no more seen in this land. 
 
 And the reason for this rumour, which filled all Somer- 
 setshire with sorrow, was the discovery of a vile plot 
 against the life of the King and that of the Duke of York, 
 which wicked and slanderous tongues were eager to charge 
 upon the virtuous and high-minded Duke of Monmouth. 
 
 Well do I remember the day when first the news of 
 this infamous plot, which came to be called the Rye House 
 Plot, reached the good citizens of Taunton. 
 
 It was upon a Sunday morning, and I, together \\'\\X\ my
 
 62 MY NEW LIFE. 
 
 uncle and aunt and his daughter Meg, had started forth for 
 Paul's Meeting, which we always attended for morning 
 service, when we noted that the people in the streets had 
 an air of gravity and anxiety which was not usual, and 
 that all seemed to be asking questions one of another, 
 although none seemed to be ready with an answer. 
 
 Now generally we were the first to hear any nev/s that 
 might reach the town, because that travellers were wont 
 to put up at the Three Cups rather than at the other 
 hostelries, which were less beliked than our house. But 
 to-day there had been none arrival, and my uncle stopped 
 to ask the first acquaintance he encountered what was the 
 meaning of the general discomposure. 
 
 Now it chanced that this acquaintance was none other 
 than Heywood Dare — " Old Dare," as he was often called, 
 less perhaps from his actual years than because he had a 
 son who was also a notable man in his way, and who 
 had a part to play in the days that were coming. 
 
 Now old Dare had a story of his own, and was a great 
 man in Taunton. He was by trade a goldsmith, and a 
 man of substance to boot ; but it was not his wealth that 
 had gained for him the repute in which he was held, but 
 his courage and devotion to the cause of liberty and justice. 
 
 It was one of the grievances of the times that the King 
 would not permit Parliament to sit sometimes for long- 
 years together. Men whispered that he received great 
 sums of money from France, which enabled him to dispense 
 with the summoning of his own loyal subjects to grant 
 supplies. However that may be, the people were gTieved
 
 A/V NEW LIFE. 63 
 
 aud wroth that their assembly was not called and per- 
 mitted to sit, as they claimed that it had the right to do ; 
 and petitions from townships were constantly sent up to 
 his Majesty imploring him to call together his Parliament, 
 until the King grew greatly incensed, issued proclamations 
 forbidding the presentation of these petitions, and threaten- 
 ing with severe penalties those who went about " getting 
 hands," as it was termed, to put to these documents. In- 
 deed many barbarous severities had been put in practice 
 against those who still strove to collect names for such 
 papers ; and curious enough were such documents when 
 they were drawn up, for three-fourths of those who " set 
 hand " to them could not write their names, but could only 
 make a mark which was to stand instead of it. 
 
 Now some four years back Old Dare had got up a 
 notable petition, and it had been signed or marked by half 
 Taunton, and by Bridgewater and Ilminster and many 
 another fair town. The sturdy old goldsmith pursued his 
 way to London with it. It was his intention to deliver it 
 to the King with his own hand ; and this intention he 
 carried out, meeting the King hard by the Houses of 
 Parliament, and presenting his paper on bended knee. 
 The King took it unsuspecting — for it was a bold man 
 who would venture to place one of the abhorred petitions in 
 the royal hands ; but on unfolding it he became instantly 
 aware of its nature, and turning sharply upon the offender, 
 he asked him how he dared to do such a thing. " Sire," 
 replied the intrepid goldsmith, " my name is Dare ! " And 
 forasmuch as there is always something noble in fear-
 
 64 MY NEW LIFE. 
 
 less courage, and that his Majesty is not without nobility 
 of soul, no hurt was done to the bold petitioner, albeit no 
 good that I ever heard of came from his petition. 
 
 Well then, to return to my present tale, it was Old Dare 
 whom we encountered in the street to-day ; and when my 
 uncle asked what the coil was all about, he shook his head 
 and answered, — 
 
 " I cannot say with knowledge ; but a messenger rode 
 post-haste to the house of the Mayor but now, and it was 
 plain, by the stains of travel on him and his horse, that 
 they had been hard pushed to reach the place. It is some- 
 thing of note, I take it, and something of evil, I fear." 
 He lowered his voice and said in my uncle's ear (yet I 
 heard every word, being very keen of hearing), " I fear me 
 it will prove to be some plot to ruin the Duke and his 
 Council of Six. It may be that they have been something 
 rash and forward. I fear me we shall hear bad news ere 
 the day is out." 
 
 I knew well what was meant by the Council of Six. 
 The Duke of Monmouth had some faithful friends, lovers 
 of liberty and constitutional rule — my Lord of Russell and 
 Mr. Algernon Sydney being of the number — who met to- 
 gether often to discuss what might be done for a country 
 beginning once again to groan beneath the yoke of an 
 arbitrary exercise of the power of the Crown. Represen- 
 tations had been made to the King, it was said, to 
 summon Parliament, and give to the people their lawful 
 voice in the government ; but this having proved of none 
 avail, it had been whispered that these men had spoken
 
 MY NEW LIFE. 65 
 
 of another Great Revolution, such as had cost the King's 
 father his head ; and of course such talk was accounted 
 rank treason in those days, and was like to cost many a 
 man his life. 
 
 Now we of the West Country in general, and of Taunton 
 Town in particular, knew very well that if any rising or 
 tumult took place, it would be like enough to be in our 
 neighbourhood ; and that, even if we kept ourselves tran- 
 quil, we might get the credit of being turbulent, and have 
 our rights infringed, even if our charter were not taken 
 from us, as it had been early in the King's reign, although 
 restored seventeen years later. Also, we all of us pinned 
 our chiefest hopes of constitutional government and the 
 Protestant religion on the hoped-for succession of the 
 Duke of Monmouth ; and if he were to be implicated in a 
 plot which should cost him liberty or life, our hopes would 
 receive a crushing blow, and nothing lie before us but the 
 succession of a bigoted Papist and a man of known cruelty 
 and tyranny. 
 
 Small wonder was it, therefore, that our faces were 
 grave, and that we all looked anxiously at our minister, 
 Mr. Vincent, as he mounted the pulpit a little after the 
 usual time, and looked seriously upon our upturned faces. 
 He made no attempt at a regular sermon that day, but 
 after giving thanks for the merciful preservation of his 
 gracious Majesty the King from a recent and great danger, 
 he proceeded to tell us that a plot had been laid against 
 the King's life and that of the Duke of York, and how it 
 was currently rumoured that the Duke of Monmouth and 
 
 (511) 5
 
 66 MY NEW LIFE. 
 
 his friends were concerned in the matter. Arrests had 
 been made of certain persons, and the Duke had fled and 
 hidden himself. 
 
 Mr. Vincent also told us, with great seriousness, that 
 rumour had already been forward to declare that an in- 
 surrection had commenced, with Taunton as its centre ; and 
 counselled us, as we valued the peace of the realm and our 
 own safety, to avoid any cause of offence, and to remain 
 perfectly quiet and tranquil. The time might come in the 
 future when it would be a righteous thing to rise up and 
 strike a blow for the liberty and the faith of the country, 
 but certainly that day had not yet come. The King upon 
 the throne was the rightful one ; his rule was on the 
 whole fair and just. There was no quarrel with him. 
 Nothing would so injure the righteous cause as a revolt 
 against law and order ; nothing would so greatly hurt 
 the cause of the young Duke of Monmouth. We must 
 show discretion and wisdom at this time, that none might 
 have cause to look with suspicion upon us. 
 
 This wise counsel from one who was a pillar of strength 
 amongst us was not without due eflfect. We looked at one 
 another and resolved to abide by Mr. Vincent's counsel. 
 We knew that our Mayor was a bitter enemy to all dis- 
 senters, and would fasten upon us an indictment of dis- 
 affection if we gave the smallest ground. Indeed he took 
 instant action upon hearing of the plot, and called some 
 bands of the militia into the town ; and I verily believe 
 that it was with his consent, if not at his instigation, that 
 a deed was done in the town which made us who called
 
 MY NEW LIFE. 67 
 
 ourselves dissenters tingle with rage and feel almost ready- 
 to raise the very tumult of which we were altogether 
 innocent in fact. 
 
 Now the thing of which I speak was nothing less than 
 the demolishing of the great chapel called Paul's Meeting, 
 of which I have spoken, and in which hundreds of citizens 
 met to worship Sunday by Sunday. And this thing was 
 done, to the great shame of those concerned in it, just 
 when the excitement which I have mentioned prevailed, 
 notwithstanding that Mr. Vincent and Mr. Burgess, both 
 of whom preached to us there, were godly men, and 
 taught us submission to lawful rulers, and spoke no evil 
 of dignitaries. 
 
 The first I knew of this was one evening just before 
 our house generally closed for the night — it was summer 
 then, and not dark till ten of the clock — when Will Wise- 
 man came rushing into the yard, all bursting with excite- 
 ment, and crying out to me in panting gasps, — 
 
 " Dicon, Dicon, come and see ! come and see ! They 
 are pulling our meeting-house to pieces, and say they will 
 make such a bonfire of our pews and pulpit as shall light 
 to bed every dissenter in the county ! Come and see ! 
 come and see ! I would not go myself till I had told 
 thee ! " 
 
 Will Wiseman was certain to be in the forefront of 
 everything ; but I had no mind to be left behind. Forth- 
 with we both rushed out from the yard, and soon the noise 
 of a great tumult fell upon our ears. In the streets men 
 were gathered together with dark faces and threatening
 
 68 MY NEW LIFE. 
 
 mien, some talking angrily against the dissenters, who, it 
 was declared, had been guilty of plotting against the King's 
 life, but many more holding a stern silence and regarding 
 their enemies with silent hostility ; whilst hoarse cries and 
 shouts rent the air, and grew louder and more distinct as 
 we drew near to Paul's Meeting. 
 
 Once within sight of the building, we saw that it was 
 lighted up from within ; and unable to come near to the 
 door for the surging mob around it, we climbed up to one 
 of the windows and looked in. 
 
 What a sight it was ! There were a hundred men inside, 
 I should think, armed with hammers and saws and other 
 tools and weapons ; and these were all engaged in hammer- 
 ing, sawing, breaking down, and demolishing the whole of 
 the woodwork in the chapel ; and as fast as some pew, or 
 great piece of panelling, or any large fragment of pulpit or 
 gallery was broken off, other men would rush forward and 
 drag it forth from the door, to carry it away into Paul's 
 Fields, where it was plain that the great bonfire was to be 
 made. And all the while they worked, they shouted out 
 threats against their fellow-townsmen, calling out, " Down 
 with all traitors ! Down with the King's enemies ! We 
 will have nothing but the Church and the King ! " 
 
 Yet many of the fellows now working like furies and 
 shouting out these words had attended many a service in 
 Paul's Meeting, and were friendly enough towards us, 
 albeit perhaps not men of much personal godliness. But 
 they were carried away by the excitement of the moment, 
 and by the coward fear of getting into trouble with the
 
 MY NEW LIFE. 69 
 
 Mayor should they show any lack of zeal. Men all over 
 the kingdom were trembling just now in apprehension of 
 arrest ; for informers were going about the country, and 
 many a lowly as well as many a noble and high personage 
 was flung into prison on the most trivial charge. To join 
 hands in reviling the dissenters and calling down blessings 
 upon the King and the Church seemed the safest way of 
 propitiating the authorities at such a moment ; and this 
 was what our towns-folk were now doing, by demolishing 
 our chapel, and showing their zeal towards the Court 
 party. 
 
 It was all very exciting ; and though my heart and Will's 
 swelled with indignation, we could not help watching till 
 the whole of the building was stripped. Then we followed 
 in the wake of the shouting crowd, and soon saw a great 
 pillar of fire rising up from the midst of the assembled 
 throng. As the great mountain of flame rose higher 
 and higher, and waved its crown of smoke and sparks up 
 to the roof of heaven as it seemed, the crowd yelled and 
 shouted and danced around the pyre, bawling out every 
 kind of folly that came into their heads ; whilst outside 
 the yelling ring, and a little distance away, stood the stern- 
 faced men who had been wont to worship there, together 
 with the ministers who had occupied the pulpit, and they 
 looked on in silence, and gathered sometimes in groups 
 together. Will Wiseman, who had the faculty of hearing 
 what everybody said without seeming to listen, whispered 
 to me, " They are saying that they will still meet for preach- 
 ing and prayer whatever is done to their meeting-house."
 
 70 MY NEW LIFE. 
 
 And so indeed it proved, although the Mayor looked 
 stern and dark, and sometimes uttered hints that sounded 
 almost like a threat against " conventicles," as he termed 
 them. Indeed he made himself so heartily misliked amongst 
 the towns-folk, that but for the authority and protection 
 bestowed by his office, I think some mischief would have 
 been done him. But though a time of exceeding excitement 
 prevailed for many weeks, there was no rising in the 
 country ; and by-and-by we were made glad by the tidings 
 that there had been a reconciliation betwixt the Duke of 
 Monmouth and the King, although Lord William Russell 
 and Mr. Algernon Sydney ended their lives upon the 
 scaffold. 
 
 Not that these men had any complicity in the murder 
 plot against the King's life. They had souls far above the 
 treachery and meanness of assassination. But the lesser 
 and more villanous plot of minor conspirators was grafted 
 upon the larger and wider-reaching intentions of these 
 champions of liberty and of rule by constitutional rather 
 than autocratic methods, and they were judged guilty 
 of treason, and were doomed to death. Some said that 
 the Duke of Monmouth had been led by promises of 
 restoration to favour to bear witness against his friends. 
 How that may be I will not say. At this time all Taunton 
 was indignant at the aspersion cast upon the fair fame of 
 the gallant young Duke, and the story was indignantly 
 discredited, and by no one more hotly than by me. Now 
 when my blood is cool, and I have grown wiser and have 
 heard more of those days, I cannot be so sure of the
 
 MV NEW LIFE. 71 
 
 innocence of the Duke as I felt then. Men are sordy 
 tempted sometimes, and fall into sin almost ere they are 
 aware of it. Human nature is weak, and a man may 
 have many faults and many weaknesses and yet be the 
 idol of the people for many a long day. 
 
 It was at this time that I grew better acquainted with 
 several of the families in Taunton. I was in great request 
 when the weekly news-letter came to my uncle's house — 
 he had one of his own as well as that which was brought 
 to the Mayor ; for, as I have said, the Mayor was a bitter 
 enemy to the dissenting portion of the towns-folk, and that 
 was a very large section, as the well-filled building, Paul's 
 Meeting, bore witness Sunday by Sunday. 
 
 Foremost amongst my friends I still reckoned Master 
 Simpson and his family. Will Wiseman was my chosen 
 comrade on all occasions, and Lizzie was the object of my 
 boyish gallantry, and I continued to think her the prettiest 
 and most charming maid in all Taunton Town. 
 
 But I must not omit to mention others who had a part 
 to play in the drama that was slowly approaching. Of 
 these I must mention the Herring family, father and 
 mother, with three daughters, Anne, Susan, and Grace, all 
 of whom attended Miss Blake's school ; and Master John 
 Hucker, a notable serge-maker, with his daughter Eliza; 
 and the Hewling family, than which none other was more 
 greatly beloved and esteemed in the whole of the town. 
 
 Mistress Hannah Hewling was mistress of this happy 
 household. She was a spinster of some thirty years of 
 age, and she played a mother's part to two virtuous and
 
 72 MV NEW LIFE. 
 
 handsome young men, who were at the time of which I am 
 now writing aged twenty and seventeen years respectively. 
 This family had another home in London, where their 
 parents lived, but owned this house property in Taunton, 
 too, where these two brothers and their sister lived in the 
 greatest amity and peace. The Hewlings were gentry, 
 and people of substance, yet so friendly and kindly disposed 
 towards their towns-folk that we all regarded them as 
 friends. They would stop to speak a friendly word to any 
 one of us in the street, and many were the evenings when 
 they would invite some amongst us to their hospitable 
 house. Sometimes there would be music to enliven us 
 after supper — for Mistress Hannah played both harp and 
 spinnet right sweetly, whilst Master Benjamin discoursed 
 eloquent music on the flute, and Master William could 
 draw strains from his violin that brought tears to the eyes 
 of the listeners before they well knew it — or failing music, 
 some one would read aloud from a godly book, or from 
 some history of past days, and the elder members of the 
 party would be invited to discuss the subject, whilst the 
 rest of us listened in respectful silence, and framed our own 
 opinions on what we heard. 
 
 It was in this way that I came to understand much of 
 the questions of the day from the standpoint of those who 
 believed the Duke of Monmouth to be the champion not 
 of freedom and constitutional rule alone, but also of the 
 Protestant religion. The things we read about the awful 
 cruelty and treachery of those who were tainted by the 
 curse of Popery often made our blood run cold within us ;
 
 MY NEW LIFE. 
 
 73 
 
 and when it became increasingly certain that the Duke of 
 York was Papist up to the neck, and would throw off all 
 disguise when once he ascended the throne, it was scarce 
 to be marvelled at that we should fix our eyes upon one 
 who might rise up to be a champion and deliverer, and 
 save us from the oppression of a tjrrant and bigot. 
 
 I was heart and soul with all men who held this view, 
 but I noted often that my uncle would sit mute whilst such 
 talk was going on, and that he was always slow to com- 
 mit himself to any open opinion. And once when I had 
 grown too excited to hold my peace any longer, and had 
 openly spoken out some of the thoughts that were burn- 
 ing within me, he had taken me to task afterwards, not 
 sternly indeed, but somewhat seriously, and had warned 
 me that I had better learn the art of holding my tongue, 
 and watching the turn of the tide before I launched my 
 bark upon untried waters. 
 
 " But, uncle," I exclaimed eagerly, " surely you are for 
 the Duke ? " 
 
 " I am for the rightful King of the realm, whoever he 
 be," was the cautious answer. " It is not given to us to 
 choose our monarch. God sets Kings upon the throne, and 
 bids us submit ourselves to the powers that be. That is 
 my principle, and will be my practice ; albeit I should 
 greatly prefer to serve a King of the true faith." 
 
 I was puzzled by this way of stating the matter, for it 
 was not after such cautious fashion that the greater part 
 of our friends talked ; but I began to note as time went 
 by that my uncle was more cautious in many of his wa^'S
 
 74 MY NEW LIFE. 
 
 than were others, and that he made some small changes in 
 his methods and habits. 
 
 After the Rye House Plot there was great excitement 
 in the country, and greater efforts than ever were made to 
 force men to attend public worship in the churches of the 
 Establishment instead of in meeting-houses of their own. 
 Many such meeting-houses and chapels were wrecked (like 
 our own) in various places, and the flocks scattered, so 
 that they could no longer hear their favourite doctrines 
 preached by their favourite ministers, but must either 
 absent themselves from public worship or go to church 
 with the orthodox. 
 
 Now in St. Mary's Church there was held a grand serv- 
 ice of thanksgiving for the safety of the King and the 
 Duke of York, and the Mayor and Burgesses all attended 
 in civic pomp. My uncle went, of course, in his capacity 
 of one of the Capital Burgesses ; but rather to our sur- 
 prise, he desired that all of us should be present ; and from 
 that day forward he regularly attended the parish church, 
 taking his wife and daughter and other members of his 
 household. He gave as his reason for this, that it was 
 right to obey the wishes of the ruling sovereign in so far 
 as it was possible to do so without violation of the con- 
 science, and that so long as good Mr. Axe filled the pulpit 
 of St. Mary's, he could go and hear him with edification 
 and pleasure. 
 
 I was quite of that opinion myseif^ used to the order 
 and liturgy of the church, and finding the long extempore 
 prayers at Paul's Meeting less to my liking than the col-
 
 MY NEW LIFE. 75 
 
 lects set down in the prayer-book. I was glad to go to 
 church ; but I was a little puzzled by my uncle's sudden 
 zeal for submission and orthodoxy. He said nothing that 
 our friends could cavil at, and was hearty and warm to- 
 wards them as ever ; but he seemed to desire to be " all 
 things to all men " — a line of conduct which I was far too 
 young and hot-headed to understand the use of. 
 
 But I must not omit to mention, in dealing with my 
 early experiences of Taunton, the school next door, and the 
 two kindly gentlewomen who conducted it. 
 
 Meg had once been a scholar there, and kept very 
 friendly relations with her mistresses. My aunt, too, was 
 very kindly disposed towards them, and would often send 
 me in with some small delicacy for their supper ; and by- 
 and-by I used to be admitted to the parlour where the 
 ladies sat, and was sometimes bidden to take a seat and 
 to tell them some of the gossip of the town. For these 
 gentlewomen seldom stirred abroad themselves, and all 
 their exercise was taken in the old garden behind the 
 house, where the pupils walked or played for an hour in 
 the middle of the day when the weather permitted. As I 
 grew to be better acquainted with them, I was asked some- 
 times to read awhile whilst they plied their needles ; and 
 this reading became such a pleasure to them that by the 
 time the first winter of my stay in Taunton arri^'ed, I 
 went in about once a week to read the news-letter after 
 it had been exhausted at the inn, and to tell them all I 
 had gleaned from travellers or from the talk of the towns- 
 folk upon it.
 
 76 MY NEW LIFE. 
 
 It was these readings which introduced me first to the 
 notice of fair Mistress Mary Mead, of whom I had heard 
 upon the very first day of my sojourn in the town, but of 
 whom I had had no thought till I was months afterwards 
 brought into her presence. 
 
 And I think it behoves me here to explain somewhat of 
 the history of fair Mistress Mary ; for these pages will 
 have a good deal to say of her, and it may be well that it 
 should be fully understood what manner of person she was. 
 
 Her grandfather had been one of Cromwell's generals — 
 a man stanch to the side of the Parliament ; and he had 
 fallen at the siege of Taunton, of which mention has been 
 made. His son, Mistress Mary's father, had been enriched 
 by the spoils of the Cavaliers in their misfortunes, and had 
 amassed a considerable fortune. This daughter was his 
 only child, and his wife, who was said to be of a noble 
 royalist family, died in giving her birth. Sir Thomas 
 Mead — for he had won his spurs of knighthood — died 
 when his child was ten years old, leaving her to the 
 guardianship of his friend the Earl of Lonsdale. Sir 
 Thomas had trimmed his sails with the times, and had 
 welcomed the King back from exile at the Restoration ; but 
 it was always supposed that he had not changed his views 
 to any notable extent, and that his daughter had been 
 brought up to glory in the doughty deeds of her grandsire, 
 and to hate and abhor all undue exercise of royal pre- 
 rogative, and all indications of Popery. 
 
 The girl had been brought up for convenience at the 
 school where the better towns-folk sent their dauo-hters,
 
 MY NEW LIFE. 77 
 
 Sir Thomas not having yet learned to hold his head higher 
 than the compeers of his father. When the child was left 
 an orphan, Lord Lonsdale had summoned her to his house, 
 and it was supposed that she would remain beneath her 
 guardian's roof until she married ; but some four years 
 later she was suddenly sent back to the care of Miss Blake 
 and Mrs. Musgrave, not exactly on the footing of the rest 
 of the scholars, but to remain in their charge as a mem- 
 ber of their household, and to observe the same secluded 
 life as they did themselves. 
 
 Various surmises were afloat with regard to this sudden 
 and unusual arrangement. Some declared that Mistress 
 Mary's faithful attachment to her instructors (which was 
 an admitted fact in all quarters) had led to this step, and 
 that it was her own earnest pleadings which had caused 
 her to be sent back. Others afiirmed that her guardian 
 was alarmed and displeased by her independence of mind 
 and by her revolutionary tenets, and had sent her away in 
 disgrace ; but that theory was rather quashed by the im- 
 probability of Lord Lonsdale's choosing Miss Blake's school 
 as the asylum for a refractory maiden, since both the 
 heads of the establishment were known to be much of the 
 same way of thinking. The third whisper was that Lord 
 Lonsdale's son, the gallant and dashing Viscount Vere, had 
 shown such unmistakable sio^ns of falling in love with his 
 father's ward, that Lord Lonsdale in a great fright (for he 
 had other views of a more ambitious nature for his son) 
 had sent Mary away in haste, choosing a place where she 
 was known to have friends and to be happy, and hoping
 
 78 MY NEIV LIFE. 
 
 she would shortly relieve him of all embarrassment by- 
 selecting a husband for herself. But if this was the case, 
 his choice of a place had hardly been a happy one ; for 
 Mistress Mary led a life of almost nun-like retirement, and 
 had already been four years with her former mistresses 
 without showing any signs of entering into bonds of wed- 
 lock. 
 
 I had heard all these tales and surmises respecting her 
 before ever I was favoured by the sight of her fair sweet 
 face and graceful form. But she came to be present 
 often at the readings, and I learned to think her more 
 exquisitely beautiful every time I saw her. There was a 
 charm in the steady dark grey eyes, the delicate mobile 
 features, and the easy grace of her every movement, which 
 my poor pen has no power to describe. Her voice was low 
 and sweet, the sweetest I have ever heard, and the rare 
 laugh was like music. Surely had I been a man, and a 
 comely and gallant one to boot, I should straightway have 
 fallen in love with sweet Mistress Mary Mead. And I 
 ceased to marvel at the stories of Viscount Vere ; for even 
 as a child she must have been passing fair, and how could 
 he help loving what was so gracious and so good ? 
 
 But I had no suspicion in those early days what I 
 should be called upon to do for Mistress Mary Mead, nor 
 how great a part I should play in her life's story.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 I GET AMONGST FINE FOLK. 
 
 I HAVE been something remiss all this while in saying 
 no word about my faithful four-footed friend Black- 
 bird, who had accompanied me to Taunton, and who re- 
 mained as constant in his attachment to me there as he 
 had done at home, notwithstanding all the blandishments 
 and the praise he received from the hostlers at the inn, and 
 from the travellers and servants who chanced to note him 
 in the stable. I could have sold him again and again for 
 a good round sum had I been so minded, and had he not 
 been so persistent in suffering none other rider than myself 
 to mount him. Not that I was ever tempted to part witli 
 my comrade ; for I was in no need of money, and I found 
 continual pleasure in the journeys of exploration around 
 Taunton which I made on Blackbird's back. I came in 
 time to be well acquainted with the whole of the surround- 
 ing country ; and very rich and beautiful country it was, as 
 all men know who are acquainted witli our " Queen of the 
 West," the name given by Taunton men to their beloved 
 city. And in due time the possession of Blackbird, and 
 my reputation for riding, brought me employment of 
 wliich I had never dreamed before.
 
 8o / GET AMONGST FINE FOLK. 
 
 I have spoken of beautiful Mistress Mary Mead, whom I 
 came to regard with a great admiration and reverence. 
 She was like a star in the firmament of my sky — far, far 
 above me, and yet on whose loveliness I was ofttimes 
 permitted to gaze, and who would sometimes give me a 
 kindly smile or a gentle word of praise, which set all my 
 pulses hammering and the blood tingling in my veins. 
 
 But there was better than this in store for me as the 
 dark cold winter days passed by, and the spring sunshine 
 began to coax forth the shy flowers in the meadows, and 
 to woo the swelling buds to show their tender tints of 
 green and gold. 
 
 Sweet Mistress Mary had been looking somewhat pale 
 and fragile during the inclement winter, and when the 
 first heat of coming spring filled the air, it seemed to 
 make her languid rather than brisk ; so the leech who was 
 called in to see her said that she must take the air with- 
 out the fatigue of walking, and, in fine, prescribed horse- 
 exercise for her. 
 
 Now in mine uncle's stable was a fair grey palfrey which 
 he had bought for her good looks, and which carried a 
 lady as carefully and softly as it is given to steed to do. 
 As soon then as I heard what was spoken anent Mistress 
 Mary, I set to work to groom and tend Lady Jane (for 
 so the palfrey was called by us) till her coat shone like 
 satin, and all the long hair of winter was groomed away. 
 Then I led her round to Mistress Mary to show her how 
 fair a steed she was ; and no sooner had she seen her than 
 the wish to mount her and ride out into the open country
 
 / GET AMONGST FINE FOLK. 8i 
 
 lanes arose within her heart, and the blood mantled in her 
 fair cheek, and already the medicine seemed like to work. 
 
 Now hanging upon Mistress Mary's hand, as she came 
 to see Lady Jane, was a younger maiden whose face was 
 well known to me by this time, and whose rank in life was 
 equal to that of Mistress Mary, and much above that of 
 those scholars of Miss Blake's who came to her from the 
 town. Belike it was this that made these twain consort 
 much together, as I heard from Lizzie that they did. The 
 laughing maid with chestnut curls and dancing blue eyes 
 was one Mistress Mary Bridges from Bishop's Hull, a 
 goodly house lying west of Taunton about a mile away or 
 something over. Mistress Mary was the only girl out of 
 a fine family of boys. Perchance she was like to grow 
 somewhat too much of a boy herself, for it was whispered 
 that she could handle a carbine and shoot straight to the 
 mark, and that she was as bold and fearless as a young 
 lion ; so it may be that for this same cause she was sent 
 to Miss Blake's school, to be educated with Mistress Mary 
 Mead, who was known for an accomplished and right 
 gentle lady. During the inclement months of the winter, 
 the younger Mistress Mary had dwelt beneath the roof of 
 Miss Blake's house ; but I had heard that with the ap- 
 proach of summer she would ride in and out on her pal- 
 frey. And the words that I heard her speak showed me 
 that this was like enow to be true. 
 
 " Ah, Mary," she cried, with her rosy face all aglow, 
 " now we will have right good times together, thou and I. 
 We will go riding forth whither we will, when I have 
 
 (511) 6
 
 82 / GET AMONGST FINE FOLK. 
 
 my pony in good John Snowe's stable. I will show 
 thee mine own home, and all the beauteous glades and 
 woods of which I have told thee. We will ride hither and 
 thither, and be free as air ! I have been but as a caged 
 bird all these weeks. Now we will spread our wings and 
 fare forth together and see the world. I will be Rosalind, 
 and thou shalt be Celia ! I will protect thee, and we will 
 live the life of the forest together ! " And she laughed so 
 joyous a laugh that I could scarce forbear to join, albeit I 
 knew my place, and strove to look unconcerned. 
 
 For a few days I heard no more of the matter, and 
 then my uncle suddenly told me that he had promised I 
 should attend the two Mistresses Mary three days in the 
 week upon their rides, and that I must curtail my studies 
 somewhat in order to be able to do this. Some attendant 
 they must needs have, and to my great satisfaction and 
 happiness I was told the Mistress Mary Mead herself had 
 said that she would prefer Dicon Snowe to any other. 
 
 Now, although I say it, I think the maidens had made 
 wise choice, for I doubt me if any other could so well have 
 shown them the country round Taunton as Blackbird and 
 I. Moreover, knowing what would be wanted by the 
 courageous and high-spirited ladies, I went out often early 
 upon Lady Jane, and taught her the tricks of leaping, 
 creeping through hedges, and overcoming obstacles that 
 Blackbird was famous for; and since Mistress Mary 
 Bridges' pony was as daring and eager as herself, there 
 was little that we could not accomplish together when our 
 minds were set upon it.
 
 I GET AMONGST FINE FOLK. 83 
 
 I knew my place, I hope, and I was careful to speak no 
 word to my ladies save such as became their servant ; but 
 as we grew acquainted one with another, they would often 
 draw me into their talk, in that way which the really 
 high-born have no fear of doing, and discuss with me many 
 matters in which I was more versed than they. And this 
 I say without boasting of any learning ; for what the 
 ladies desired greatly to learn was news of those things 
 that were going on in the world about them, of which little 
 reached them, whilst I was always hearing stories from the 
 travellers who passed by ; and though some told one tale 
 and some another, so that it was not easy to sift the grain 
 of truth from the chaff of falsehood, yet one felt to know 
 something as time went on, and I could tell my ladies 
 many a tale which made them hang upon my lips as 
 though I spoke words of magic charm. 
 
 And ever and again would our talk come back to the 
 Duke of Monmouth, and the chance of his succeeding to 
 the crown. 
 
 Mistress Mary Bridges came of a race that belonged to 
 what men called the " Court party." At home she heard no 
 good spoken of the Duke of Monmouth, and told us that 
 her father had many times said with authority that there 
 was no truth whatsoever in the story of the black box ; 
 that many men believed the Duke of Monmouth to be the 
 son of Colonel Robert Sydney, and not of the King at all ; 
 that her father always declared him to be much more like 
 " handsome Sydney," as he was called, than like the King ; 
 and that it would be vile sin and shame to England if any
 
 84 / GET AMONGST FINE FOLK. 
 
 attempt were made to place upon the throne a man upon 
 whose birth there rested such a stain and slur. His 
 mother, as all the world knew, had been a vile woman, and 
 the son was like to be little better than his mother. These 
 things had young Mistress Mary heard her father say 
 when he was speaking to his wife and others of this 
 matter, and the daughter had been brought up to look 
 upon the succession of the Duke as a silly fable, which 
 would never come to aught save empty talk. 
 
 Her winter's residence in Taunton, however, had done 
 something to shake this conviction. Her ardent and ro- 
 mantic nature had caught some of the fire of Mistress 
 Mary Mead's silent but intense love and enthusiasm for the 
 Duke ; and when I told of my own adventure, spoke of 
 his kindly ways to the people, his gentleness to me, and 
 the miraculous cure he had worked upon me, she was still 
 more shaken in her former beliefs, and looking from one to 
 another of us would say meditatively, — 
 
 " Ah ! I wonder which is the truth ? I would fain be- 
 lieve him the King's lawful son. That treacherous black- 
 browed Duke of York will be a terrible tyrant. I would 
 it were any one else to succeed the King ! But my father 
 says we must never do evil that good may come ; and to 
 support an usurper would be that, even should he make the 
 best King afterwards that the world has ever known ! " 
 
 But then Mistress Mary Mead's soft eyes would light 
 up with a glow of wondrous beauty, and she would say 
 softly, — 
 
 " But he is no usurper ; he is the lawful heir to the
 
 / GET AMONGST FINE FOLK. 85 
 
 throne, and some day all men will know it ! God will 
 fight for the righteous cause, and the truth will be made 
 clear as the noonday. I know it, I know it ! my heart 
 tells it me ! " And such a look would come into her face 
 that all we could do was to gaze at her as though she had 
 been an inspired prophetess ; and the other Mary would 
 throw her arms about her and cry, — 
 
 " Now, when thou lookest thus, I cannot but believe 
 every word thou sayest. I could believe that the angels 
 had revealed these things unto thee in vision." 
 
 And truly I could almost believe the same ; for never 
 saw I more perfect trust and confidence than in the lovely 
 face of Mistress Mary, and I knew that she was one of 
 those who would gladly lay down her life if need be in 
 what she held to be a righteous cause. 
 
 Now, though I must not linger too long over the story of 
 these pleasant rides, I must not omit to mention that more 
 than once as we sallied forth into the lanes and woods we 
 encountered a very gay and dashing young gallant, who 
 (unless my fancy deceived me) looked long and earnestly 
 at Mistress Mary, with a strange fixedness in his eyes, as 
 though he saw something in her aspect that touched him 
 nearly. And this thing happened more than once, till at 
 last I began to wonder whether our comings and goings 
 were marked and noted by this same gallant, and whether 
 he put himself of set purpose in our path. 
 
 The first time or two when it happened I doubt if either 
 of my ladies heeded the passing rider. But there came 
 a day when we met him in a very straight and narrow
 
 86 I GET AMONGST FINE FOLK. 
 
 way, and had to pass him in single file ; and then it was 
 that a strange thing happened. Young Mistress Mary had 
 gone in front, and Mistress Mary Bridges followed her — 
 I keeping, as behoved my position, somewhat in the rear. 
 As Mistress Mary passed by this horseman, who had drawn 
 rein and pulled his steed well-nigh into the hedge to let 
 the ladies go by, I saw him put forth a hand and lay it 
 for a moment on the neck of her palfrey, whilst I was 
 certain that I heard these words pronounced in a very low 
 tone, " Mary, sweetheart, hast thou forgotten me ? " 
 
 I saw her start, and turn her head towards him who had 
 thus addressed her ; and albeit it was little of her face I 
 could see, yet even that little had flushed, as I saw well, 
 a vivid and beautiful crimson. She seemed to pause for 
 a moment, as if without knowing it, and I think she spoke 
 a soft word, though what it was I could not hear. But I 
 saw his eyes lighten, and his hand seek hers for a moment, 
 and again I heard him say as they passed each other by, 
 " I will be faithful, I will be true." 
 
 Now all this greatly aroused and interested me ; for 
 Mistress Mary Mead was in very sooth the queen of my 
 heart, and that she should be beloved by so fair and gallant 
 a gentleman seemed to me most right and fitting. I knew 
 not this dashing young lord (for such I rightly judged him 
 to be), but I looked at him well as I j^assed by, and thought 
 that his face was a right goodly and honest one, and that 
 if any man deserved the love of my sweet lady, it would 
 be one such as he. Methought he gave me a quick and 
 earnest glance as he rode by, but he said no word, nor did
 
 I GET AMONGST FINE FOLK. 87 
 
 he address either me or Mistress Mary when he met us on 
 other occasions. Yet methinks there is a language of the 
 eyes which is often more eloquent than that of the tongue, 
 and I noted that the bloom returned with wondrous speed 
 to Mistress Mary's pale cheeks, and that the languor and 
 weakness from which she had been suffering grew less day 
 by day. 
 
 The gay spring-tide flew by as upon wings, and the hot 
 dry summer followed. There had been something of a 
 drought the previous year, and again this summer there 
 was great lack of rain, and some of the crops suffered, 
 although others did well, and all men rejoiced in the brave 
 sunshine and the way in which the hay was got in and 
 the corn grew and ripened. 
 
 With these summer days, too, came the holidays at the 
 schools. I had no more studies to prepare for my tutors 
 and masters ; nor had I any rides to take with my ladies, 
 for Miss Blake's house was empty. Mistress Mary Mead 
 had gone to spend the vacation with her friend at Bishop's 
 Hull, and I might have felt my time hang heavy, missing 
 their kindly notice of me, had it not been that another call 
 was made upon my time, and one which brought me into 
 contact with one in whom I had come to have a great 
 interest. 
 
 I was standing idly in the court-yard one day, watching 
 the comings and goings of various travellers, and exchang- 
 ing a word now and again with one whom I knew, when 
 all of a sudden I woke up to a sense of keen interest and 
 excitement; for into the yard rode the gallant young gentle-
 
 88 I GET AMONGST FINE FOLK. 
 
 man whom we had so often encountered in our rides, and 
 I at once went up and held his stirrup for him to dis- 
 mount, asking him how we could serve him. 
 
 He looked hard at me, and I saw that he knew me in- 
 stantly. 
 
 " Can I have speech with John Snowe ? " he asked ; and 
 I at once said that my uncle was within, and would attend 
 him in person. But he still remained standing beside his 
 horse regarding me steadily ; and before he moved away 
 towards the inn, he remarked with would-be carelessness of 
 manner, " I have not seen thee abroad of late with thy 
 ladies." 
 
 " No, my lord," I answered — for I had made up my mind 
 he could be nothing less — " the ladies be gone away for 
 a while. They will not return till the summer has waned." 
 
 I thought he looked sorrowful, but he said no more, and 
 turned towards the inn, bidding me hold his horse till his 
 return, as he should not be long over his errand. I was 
 curious to know what that errand could be, and to know 
 the name and rank of the gallant gentleman. I was sure 
 to find out that from mine uncle, who knew every one, high 
 and low, in these parts ; but my curiosity was gratified 
 sooner than I looked for, for within five minutes I heard 
 my uncle's voice calling to me to come in. 
 
 Leaving the horse with one of the hostlers, I ran to obey 
 the summons, and found myself in the best parlour, where 
 the stranger was half seated upon the table, tapping his 
 riding-boot with his cane as he talked, my uncle stand- 
 ing respectfully before him, his cap in his hand. This
 
 / GET AMONGST FINE FOLK. 89 
 
 confirmed my impressions as to the rank of the \nsitor ; 
 for my uncle by no means capped to every chance traveller, 
 even of the better sort. 
 
 " This is the lad of whom your lordship has heard, 
 Dicon Snowe, my brother's son," said my uncle as I 
 appeared. " If he will suit your noble father's purpose, 
 and if it be not for too long a time, we will make shift to 
 spare him, albeit his place here will not be easy to fill." 
 
 " You shall not be the loser by it, good John," said the 
 young gallant with a laugh ; and I saw that his eyes lighted 
 up with surprise at my entrance, and I thought that his 
 face looked pleased. 
 
 He did not, however, speak openly to me, only giving 
 me a friendly nod as he said something about " the morrow " 
 to my uncle ; and only when he was gone and we had seen 
 him ride gaily past the windows did I venture to ask vay 
 kinsman, " Who is he ? and wherefore has he come ? What 
 is it that he wants of me ? " 
 
 " That is young Lord Vere — Viscount Vere, if you will — 
 eldest son and heir to Lord Lonsdale of Court House, West 
 Monkton. Doubtless you have been near the place some- 
 times when riding forth with the ladies." 
 
 " No," I answered, " Mistress Mary would never ride that 
 way ; but I have seen the house when I have been alone, 
 albeit I knew not who lived in it. Is it not Lord Lonsdale 
 who is guardian to Mistress Mary Mead ? " 
 
 " Ay ; and some say his son was so smitten by her girlish 
 charms, that to keep mischief from following she was sent 
 to Miss Blake, and the Viscount to London and thence to
 
 90 I GET AMONGST FINE FOLK. 
 
 foreign shores, whence he has but lately returned. But 
 the business that brought him here was to obtain for his 
 father, my Lord of Lonsdale, the assistance of a reader, 
 who can beguile his leisure and write his despatches, whilst 
 he recovers from an inflammation of the eyes which is keep- 
 ing him a prisoner in his room. His secretary is away 
 upon some mission, and his lordship has been doing all 
 himself of late ; but his eyes have suddenly become greatly 
 inflamed and painful, so that he is unable to use them. It 
 has been told him that I had here a youth who was an ex- 
 cellent reader and ready likewise with the pen, and he has 
 sent to ask for him to be sent to Court House for a while. 
 And so I must e'en make shift to spare thee, boy ; for one 
 must give favourable answer when a lord is the suer." 
 
 I gathered from what I had heard that it was something 
 more than courtesy which prompted my uncle to part with 
 me ; but I was not disposed to fall foul of his motives, 
 seeing that I was greatly the gainer thereby. For, like all 
 young things, I was greedy of change, and thought that it 
 would be a fine thing to belong for a time to my Lord of 
 Lonsdale's household — to sit with him in his library and 
 read to him and pen his despatches. I felt an inch taller 
 as I went from my uncle's presence to make my simple 
 preparations for leaving on the morrow. I had been not 
 a little fascinated by the beauty and manly grace of the 
 Viscount, and the thought that he was the secret lover of 
 sweet Mistress Mary Mead gave him an added charm in 
 my eyes. Perhaps I should be able to help those two to 
 a happy termination to their courtship. Did not the mouse
 
 I GET AMONGST FINE FOLK. 91 
 
 in the fable loose the bonds of the lion ? And surely I 
 miglit be able to do as much as that ! 
 
 On the next morning I set forth in great spirits, riding 
 Blackbird, and carrying a change of apparel in my saddle- 
 bag. I knew Court House well, for I had often seen its 
 chimneys and gables from mine own home, from which it 
 lay not so very far away by miles, but divided therefrom 
 by a stretch of swampy land, so that there was no good 
 way of approaching it. I did not even remember who lived 
 there, though I must surely have heard. For until I came 
 to dwell in Taunton, I took but small interest in the affairs 
 of the neighbourhood, save those of the neighbours and 
 friends amongst whom we lived. 
 
 But I was interested enough as I rode up and passed 
 under the archway to the stables and inferior offices of the 
 house and made known my errand there. I thought the 
 men looked rather disdainfully at my crooked back and 
 small stature, but whether they would have been rude or 
 not I cannot say, for the Viscount chanced to pass that 
 Avay, sallying out to see to a favourite horse that was lame ; 
 and seeing me he nodded in his friendly fashion, and call- 
 ing to an indoor servant, he bid him conduct me to the 
 Earl without further ado. 
 
 So I was taken through one long passage and up a flight 
 of stairs, and along yet another and a longer passage, and 
 through a door into a hall of sucli vast and noble pro- 
 portions tliat I would fain have lingered to look at it, 
 only I was constrained to follow my guide, who turned 
 down a long corridor lighted by tall narrow windows high
 
 92 / GET AMONGST FINE FOLK. 
 
 up in the wall, and hung with many a fine picture the 
 likes of which I had never seen before, until he paused at 
 a massive door sunk in a niche in the wall, and almost im- 
 mediately I found myself entering a room almost as large 
 as a church, with windows filled with lozenges of stained 
 glass bearing heraldic devices, and with cases of books the 
 very sight of which made my mouth water and my fingers 
 tingle in the longing desire to know what was within them. 
 
 At the far end of this room, beside a bureau heaped with 
 books and papers, sat a stately gentleman, soberly but 
 richly clad, and wearing over his eyes a shade to exclude 
 the light. He held a paper-cutter like a dagger in his 
 hands, with which he seemed to have been impatiently toy- 
 ing, and as soon as ever the servant had retired after ex- 
 plaining his errand, he pointed imperiously to a wooden 
 chair near to the table, and said, " Sit there, Dicon Snowe, 
 and read to me these letters one by one. Pause not unless 
 I bid thee. And read thy best and clearest." 
 
 I obeyed in some fear and trembling, for I found it a 
 very different thing to read out written matter to a lord 
 from having to read the print of book or news-letter to my 
 uncle's guests, or even to Miss Blake and Mrs. Musgrave. 
 However, I knew that I should only do worse by letting 
 myself think of this, and by getting frightened at my posi- 
 tion; so I went to my task with what courage I could 
 muster, and soon found the work so interesting that I forgot 
 all about Lord Lonsdale's rank, and was as much at home 
 in my task as though I had been in my uncle's parlour. 
 
 I may say without vanity that I pleased my master. I
 
 I GET AMONGST FINE FOLK. 93 
 
 found this out by degrees as I pursued my avocations 
 under his directions. There was always a good deal of 
 reading and writing of despatches to be done in the morn- 
 ings, and sometimes gentlemen would come in and talk 
 with the Earl, whilst I sat silent over my task or waited 
 idle for orders. I saw Sir William Portman frequently, 
 the owner of Orchard Portman, and also of a fine timbered 
 house in the town ; and Sir Ralph Bridges, the father of 
 Mistress Mary, came sometimes and talked long and ear- 
 nestly with the Earl. 
 
 I could not hear a great deal of their talk from where 
 I sat in my recess, and often I had writing to do which 
 engrossed my attention ; but I gathered that the health of 
 the King was beginning to give anxiety to the Court, that 
 the question of the succession was becoming an increasingly 
 burning one, and that the power and influence of the Duke 
 of Monmouth were steadily waning. 
 
 This was regarded as very satisfactory by the friends of 
 the Earl, as I very well saw, although my own heart used 
 to grow heavy within me as I heard their talk. The Duke 
 was not in England now. He had fled to Holland, and 
 was sometimes heard of there, sometimes in Brussels. It was 
 said that he was planning a secret visit to England, to get 
 speech with the King and seek to regain his favour. All 
 believed the King to be greatly attached to him, and feared 
 the result of a personal interview. But all were equally 
 convinced that Charles would never pass over his brother 
 and rightful heir, or seek to pass any measure putting 
 Monmouth into the succession. These men of the Court
 
 94 I GET AMONGST FINE FOLK. 
 
 Party seemed quite secure on this head ; but the unpopular- 
 ity of the Duke of York in the country, and the strange 
 influence which Monmouth possessed over the hearts of the 
 people, were sources of danger which they could not ignore, 
 I heard the matter discussed in all its bearings, and felt 
 every day to enter into a better understanding of the case ; 
 but all this did not shake my loyalty and love for the Duke 
 one whit, though it opened my eyes to the knowledge that 
 he would have a harder battle for his crown (thus I put it 
 to myself) than I had hitherto believed. 
 
 In the after-part of the day I generally read other things 
 to the Earl : history, poetry, learned writings of great men 
 whose names I had never heard — nothing came amiss to 
 Lord Lonsdale, who was a very learned man ; and he was 
 exceedingly kind in pausing from time to time to make 
 some explanation which rendered the theme under discussion 
 more intelligible to me. Of course I never paused to ask 
 a question, but if he stopped to ask if I understood what I 
 was reading (as he sometimes did), then I had to answer no, 
 and he would give me a brief but masterly summary of the 
 matter, and permit me then to ask a question if I did not 
 understand. So I came to have a great love and reverence 
 for the Earl, and to feel my mental horizon growing wider 
 round me every day. I was well treated by the servants 
 of the house, with whom I consorted at other times ; and 
 above all I began to feel an intense and growing admiration 
 and love for young Lord Vere, who took much notice of 
 me as the days went by, but of whom I will more fully 
 speak in another chapter.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 VISCOUNT VERB. 
 
 T T may be that what I have now to relate will have 
 -■- something of a presumptuous sound, seeing that I 
 was a lad of humble birth, and that my lord the Viscount 
 was heir to a noble name and estate. Nevertheless trutli 
 is truth, be it never so strange, and there be laws of the 
 heart which follow not the laws of custom and use. Nor 
 was it anything strange that my heart should go forth to 
 one so handsome, so noble, so kind of nature, so brave and 
 gallant as the youthful Viscount, Lord Lonsdale's son ; but 
 it always seems passing strange to me when I think how 
 he made' of me a friend and comrade — me, a crook- 
 backed lad of but fourteen years when first we became 
 acquaint, the son of a farmer, and nephew to an inn- 
 keeper — one who might never dare to speak such a word as 
 " friendship " in connection with such an one as my Lord 
 Vere. Yet so it turned out, and friends we became; and 
 I may e'en write the word down without shame, albeit in 
 all humility, since to this very day he speaks of me as 
 friend, and loves to talk over with me those stirring ad- 
 ventures in which we both bore a part, as you shall hear.
 
 96 VISCOUNT VERB. 
 
 How this strange friendship came about it now behoves 
 me to relate. 
 
 I was, as I have explained, installed for a time in Lord 
 Lonsdale's household, intrusted with the oflfice of reading 
 to him, and of writing such of his letters as he desired. 
 My duties, however, did not occupy the whole of my time, 
 and I had many hours of leisure to call mine own. 
 
 It was, I think, upon the third day of my stay, and I 
 had found my way to the stables to look at Blackbird, and 
 to ask whether it would be deemed right for me to take 
 him out for exercise, when Lord Vere came into the yard, 
 and seeing me there, cried out in his free and friendly 
 fashion, " Well met, Dicon ; let us ride forth together. 
 I have somewhat to say to thee ; and that pony of thine 
 looks wild for a gallop." 
 
 So before a quarter of an hour had passed we were 
 riding through the great gateway — I following in the wake 
 of the Viscount, as was just and right, but feeling greatly 
 honoured by being permitted thus to attend him. 
 
 I would fain describe my gallant young lord, only I 
 fear that my poor pen lacks the skill to bring him before 
 the eye of the reader. It is easy to speak of handsome, 
 well-cut features, stamped with that high-bred look that is 
 the birthright of so many of our noble families, of sunny 
 blue eyes, delicately-arched brows, and a figure full of 
 grace and power, and skilled in all martial exercises. But 
 these words sound cold and poor, and do little towards con- 
 juring up the picture of youthful grace and manhood that 
 was presented in tliose days by young Lord Vere, There
 
 VISCOUNT VERE. 
 
 97 
 
 was a brightness about him which was Kke nothing so 
 much as the golden halo round the head of a pictured 
 saint. He seemed to carry sunshine and light witli him. 
 It shone in his eyes, it sparkled in his smile, it brought 
 light and happiness to the faces of those with whom he 
 spoke. I have lived long in the world now, and have seen 
 many men and women whom I have had good cause to 
 love, admire, and revere ; but none amongst these has ever 
 possessed that gracious and brilliant charm of the Viscount. 
 Never have I felt my heart so stolen away and enslaved as 
 it was by him. I know what the love is of man to maid, 
 and how it makes all the world new, and makes a heaven 
 of this earth ; but even this love and glamour is not quite 
 like that which filled my boyhood's heart when young Lord 
 Vere rode beside me and made of me his friend. I always 
 think when in Holy Writ I hear how the soul of David 
 was knit unto the soul of Jonathan, and of how the love 
 of Jonathan and David is spoken of as a love " passing the 
 love of women," that I understand the import of these 
 beautiful words better perhaps than other men may be 
 able to do. 
 
 I felt the beginnings of this glamour as I rode after 
 Lord Vere through the stately park and watched the sun- 
 light playing in his golden curls and lighting up the bright 
 tints of his riding coat and vest. The Viscount's hair was 
 so thick and abundant, and curled with such a natural 
 grace, that he wore no wig, like the greater part of the 
 gentry in those days ; and for my part I think that nothing 
 could have so well become him as did his own bright hair, 
 
 (511J 7
 
 98 VISCOUNT VERE. 
 
 although I have heard envious gallants, who would fain 
 have copied him an they had known how, sneer at his 
 " maid's face " and floating love-locks. 
 
 We had scarce passed beyond the view of the house 
 when Lord Vere reined in his horse and signed to me 
 to come up beside him ; and then with one quick glance 
 round, as though to assure himself that there were none 
 to overhear, he said in eager accents, " Dicon lad, I have 
 wanted speech of thee for a purpose. I prithee tell me all 
 thou knowest about sweet Mistress Mary Mead." 
 
 I was not greatly surprised at the question, albeit it had 
 come somewhat soon and suddenly. Nor was I loath to 
 speak of Mistress Mary ; and I told my young lord all 
 that I knew of her — how I was favoured sometimes to read 
 to her with others in Miss Blake's parlour, and how I had 
 been made her attendant since she had been bidden to take 
 exercise on her palfrey with young Mistress Mary Bridges. 
 
 He listened eagerly, ever and anon putting some quick 
 question anent her health or the fashion in which she 
 occupied herself ; and when I had told him all that I 
 could, he looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, 
 " Boy, dost thou think her happy ? " 
 
 Truth to tell, I had never seriously considered this ques- 
 tion. Mistress Mary seemed to me as a thing apart, so 
 greatly above my world that I did not judge of her as I 
 should of others nearer to myself ; but having had the 
 thought suggested, I pondered awhile upon it, and then I 
 answered, — 
 
 " Methinks, perhaps, that she is as one who feels a 
 
 I
 
 VISCOUNT VERE. 
 
 99 
 
 shadow resting upon her life. She is ofttimes pensive. 
 She but seldom laughs, and her smile is sad as well as 
 SAveet. I could think of her as one who has some secret 
 trouble which she is nursing ; but I do not speak with 
 knowledge, my lord, only as my heart prompts me, think- 
 ing of her and what I have noted when in her gentle 
 presence." 
 
 Now although I could not doubt that the Viscount 
 greatly loved Mistress Mary, yet methought his face 
 lighted as if with joy to hear that she was ofttimes sad. 
 And if at first I was surprised at this, I quickly began 
 to understand better the reason for this joy. 
 
 He rode on for a few minutes in silence, one expression 
 chasing another over his face ; and at last looking ear- 
 nestly at me, as though he would read my very soul, he 
 said, — 
 
 " Dicon, I must speak to some one, else my heart will 
 break for very impatience of these bonds of silence. Boy, 
 I like thee. There is that in thy face which draws me to 
 thee. Canst thou be discreet ? canst thou keep a secret ? 
 and wilt thou be true to me if I tell thee more perhaps 
 of myself than any man knoweth as yet ? " 
 
 My heart bounded within me at these words. Al- 
 ready it was enslaved by the charm of this young noble. 
 Even though I had been but three days in his father's 
 house, I had heard nothing but praise of him, and had 
 come already to regard him as a bright particular star. 
 To be taken into his confidence was a favour so far above 
 my merits and so far removed from anything I had
 
 TOO VISCOUNT VERB. 
 
 dreamed, that I was bewildered with joy, and could only 
 breathe forth a hearty and cordial promise that I would be 
 true to the death, silent as the grave, and the very humble 
 and devoted servant of the Viscount in any oflSce in which 
 he could employ me and in which I could serve him. 
 
 He looked at me smilingly as I blundered forth my 
 clumsy asseverations, but I think he read in my eyes that 
 I meant every word that I said ; and when I had finished 
 he held out his hand, and I placed mine within it, feeling 
 lifted into another sphere by the very touch of those strong 
 slim fingers. 
 
 " There, lad, that is the seal to our comradeship," he 
 said, as he released my fingers with a strong pressure. 
 " Now I must e'en speak to thee with some freedom ; and 
 yet, perchance, thou hast heard somewhat of this very 
 matter. Has it ever been told thee that I love Mistress 
 Mary as a man loves the maiden he would fain seek for 
 his wife ? " 
 
 " I have heard something of it, my lord," I answered ; 
 " albeit I think that none know rightly whether there be 
 truth in the rumour or no." 
 
 " If men say that I love her as never woman was loved 
 yet, they speak in very sooth no more than the truth," was 
 the impetuous answer, and the young lord's face flushed 
 with the generous ardour of his love, whilst his eyes 
 kindled with such a light as methinks no maiden could 
 resist ; but after a brief moment the flush faded, and he 
 smiled at his own vehemence, and said, — 
 
 " Nay, but I must not prate and rant like a hot-headed
 
 VISCOUNT VERB. loi 
 
 boy. I have reached man's estate, and as a man will I 
 woo and win my fair lady. And thou, good Dicon, shalt 
 help me to this, an thou wilt ; for men have raised barriers 
 betwixt us that be not easily broken down. Not only 
 have they taken her away and placed her Math those who 
 would keep her from me, but they have taught her to 
 think that her sweet love will injure me, and that to wed 
 with her would be to do me grievous hurt." 
 
 " Is that so ? " I asked, marvelling ; and walking our 
 horses at a foot's pace under the green trees, the Viscount 
 told me all his tale. 
 
 " Truly I think that from very childhood we loved 
 each other. Thou canst well guess how sweet a maid 
 she was when she came to us, and how in my lonely 
 boyhood she seemed to come like a creature of light 
 and air ; how we roved the woods and dells together, 
 and played that we were king and queen of all the 
 earth ; and how we plighted our troth a thousand times, 
 and never thought of life save as a thing to be shared 
 together. 
 
 " I verily believe that, had my mother lived, she would 
 have taken our part ; for Mary was in sooth a daughter 
 to her, and she loved her with a great and tender 
 love. But she was taken away, and methinks the 
 grief of that parting changed Mary from child to maiden 
 at an early age. Be that as it may, when she was 
 not yet fifteen years, and when I was but eighteen, I 
 could refrain myself no longer, but told her fully and 
 freely of my love ; and she hid her sweet face upon my
 
 in2 VISCOUNT VERE. 
 
 breast, and said that she had never known a thought or 
 a wish save to be mine. And so we plighted our troth 
 standing over my mother's grave, where it was that her 
 tears had roused within me the resolve to speak at once 
 and for ever, and to win for myself the right to chase 
 those tears away. Our troth-plight was the more hal- 
 lowed to both of us, I know, for that it was taken in that 
 spot, amid so many memories of her who had been so 
 infinitely dear to both." 
 
 The Viscount paused a moment and turned away his 
 head ; and I thought none the less highly of his man- 
 hood that the memory of his departed mother had 
 brought tears to his eyes. For a moment he paused, 
 and then he continued his tale, speaking in a graver 
 tone, and with less of emotion. 
 
 " Having thus opened my heart to Mary, the time had 
 come for me to speak to my father. I went to him 
 without fear, and yet I was aware of some small mis- 
 giving in my heart. Not that I could see how he 
 could, by any manner of means, find aught amiss with 
 my choice ; yet I remembered how he had from time 
 to time spoken of my marriage, and had seemed to 
 think that a daughter of our good friend Sir William 
 Portman would prove to be the lady of my choice. 
 Hitherto I had only smiled when he spoke thus, and 
 had given the matter scarce another thought, having no 
 intentions towards marriage till Mary should be older. 
 But I remembered it as I approached the door of his 
 room that day, and my heart sank somewhat within me."
 
 VISCOUNT VERE. 103 
 
 " But surely, my lord, your noble father could not 
 have aught but love for one so sweet as Mistress Mary ? " 
 I hazarded. 
 
 The Viscount slightly shook his head. 
 
 " Thou wilt find as thou growest in wisdom and in 
 years, good Dicon, that a father may love a fair maid 
 right well, and yet not desire her for his son's wife ; 
 and that he may care little for the lady he desires to 
 call his daughter-in-law the whiles he is very eager to 
 betroth her to his son. I was speedily to find that my 
 father would hear not a word of my troth -plight to 
 Mary. He strove first to laugh ; and when I would not 
 have the matter slighted, he grew stern and hard, told 
 me that he had other projects for me, and that in these 
 dangerous and perilous times — for they are more perilous 
 than thou dost well know, Dicon, and are like to be 
 more so should aught happen to the King — no man 
 could walk too warily. He said he had chosen a wife 
 for me out of the familj^ of the Portmans, as, in sooth, 
 I had half believed, and that Mary was no fit match 
 for me. Some wealth she had, but her lineage was 
 not equal to mine, and, child though she was, she was 
 deeply tainted by the disloyalty and rebellious notions 
 of her father. He had watched with pain the develop- 
 ment of the germs of this evil, which had been fostered 
 by those to whom her education had been intrusted, 
 albeit at that time he had not known this. In short, 
 he would have none of it. He would not listen to my 
 pleading. He told me that I was but a boy, and knew
 
 I04 VISCOUNT VERB. 
 
 not what was for mine own good ; whilst she was a child, 
 and would say yea to any swain who came a-wooing. 
 And since I was unwilling thus to be treated, and 
 asserted my manhood and my unchanging devotion in 
 the finest phrases at my command, he took another line 
 with me, and said that I must have a chance of seeing 
 other maidens than my Mary ; and, in fine, he told me 
 to make ready to be sent to the King's Court, where it 
 was full time that I presented myself, and where he 
 intended to send me forthwith." 
 
 " Was not that good news, my lord ? " I asked as he 
 paused. " Surely your lordship must have desired to 
 see the gay world of fashion and the person of the 
 King's Majesty ? " 
 
 " I wanted nothing so much then as to bask in the 
 sunshine of Mary's bright eyes," answered Lord Vere 
 quickly. " Nevertheless, if that might not be, and if it 
 were needful to prove my constancy, I was willing to 
 obey my father ; and, indeed, I had no choice but to 
 do as I was bid. Mary herself told me that I must 
 submit myself to my father's will ; and within a week 
 I had bidden her farewell, vowing to be constant to her 
 for ever, and quickly found myself in London, and wel- 
 comed at Court by many of my father's friends." 
 
 "And what is the life of the Court like, my lord?" 
 I ventured to inquire ; but the Viscount laughed and 
 shook his head. 
 
 " Ask me that another time, good Dicon, and I will 
 give thee thy fill of stories of its follies and pleasures
 
 VISCOUNT VERB. 105 
 
 and wickedness ; but my thoughts are -vvitli niy Mary 
 to-day, and I will not sully her name nor her image 
 by mingling with it any of these polluted memories. 
 I was there some three months when my father came ; 
 and I heard then from him that Mary had been sent 
 away from Court House to Miss Blake's, or rather to 
 Mrs. Musgrave's care, in Taunton. My father said that 
 a maid needed the care of Avomen — which is doubtless 
 true ; and that, now my mother was dead, there was 
 no one here to be a companion to her. I wrote her a 
 letter when I was able to find a safe messenger ; but 
 she was long in replying, although I begged her to let 
 me hear from her. And when she did write, it was to 
 tell me that she would not hold me bound by any of 
 the words I had spoken to her ; that, since it would not 
 be for my happiness or welfare to wed with her, she 
 freely gave me up. She bid me do my father's will 
 without thought of her ; and albeit a sj)irit of gentle, 
 sorrowful love breathed in every line of her letter, not 
 a word of love did it contain, and I understood well 
 that my father had made her believe it would injure 
 my fortune to mate with her, and that she was striving 
 to help me to forget, so that I might do that which 
 was thought by others to forward my fortunes in the 
 world." 
 
 "Ah! that was like her — that was like her!" I 
 could not refrain from exclaiming. " That is what all 
 who know her say of her — that she thinks always of 
 others, never of herself. That is why all love her so
 
 io6 VISCOUNT VERB. 
 
 much. They say of her ofttimes that she is like one of 
 the holy angels, so full of goodness and purity." 
 
 Lord Vere's face kindled, as I soon found it always 
 did at any praise of Mistress Mary ; but he made no 
 direct answer, only going on with his narrative. 
 
 " It was two years before I saw Court House again ; 
 but those years had served only to deepen my love for 
 sweet Mary. Beside the image of her which I carried 
 always in my heart, other women looked to me like 
 ' painted Jezebels,' as I called them in my thoughts. 
 I never saw one amongst them who stirred my heart 
 or recalled in anywise the feelings with which I had 
 regarded my Mary ; and when I came back, I was re- 
 solved that I would rid her mind of those false notions 
 which had been instilled into it by others. But, alas ! 
 I was something too impetuous and outspoken, and my 
 father got wind of my intentions. What steps he took 
 I know not, but Mary had left Taunton ere ever I was 
 able to ride over to seek her. All I covild learn was 
 that she had been taken away for the sake of her 
 health, and whither she had gone my father would not 
 tell me. Kind in all else, he was inexorable about 
 Mary, and soon I was so seriously beset to pay my 
 addresses to Mistress Julia Portman, that I was glad to 
 leave Court House once more, and travel abroad or pay 
 visits at the Court ; and only of late have I returned 
 home, having arrived at man's estate and come into pos- 
 session of the fortune bequeathed me by my mother, 
 as fully bent as ever upon winning my Mary for my
 
 VISCOUNT VERB. 107 
 
 wife, albeit I have learned to go to work more warily 
 now, and to use policy in my methods." 
 
 " And does my lord the Earl know that your heart 
 is yet unchanged, my lord ? " I asked eagerly. 
 
 " To him I have spoken no word," answered the 
 Viscount gra^'ely. " I trow he thinks my boyish freak 
 forgotten. What he may have said to Mistress Mary, 
 or to those who have charge of her, to keep her from 
 me, I know not. That he still desires an alliance with 
 the Portman family I cannot doubt, although Mistress 
 Julia is now wed, and it is her younger sister Edith 
 whose praises are from time to time sounded in my 
 ears. But I have seen Mary. I have spoken to her, 
 as thou, good Dicon, dost know. I have read in her 
 sweet eyes that however she may strive to turn from 
 me, yet her heart is mine as mine is hers. Her words 
 may be few and cold, but her eyes speak eloquent lan- 
 guage. Obstacles and difficulties may lie in our path ; 
 but I will overcome them in the strength of my love, 
 and Mary shall be mine at last ! " 
 
 As he spoke, my very heart went out to him in his 
 generous, chivalrous love ; and stretching out my hand 
 and bringing it down upon his charger's neck in my 
 eagerness, I cried, — 
 
 " O my lord, what maid could stand out against such 
 love? And if I can do aught to help you, I am your 
 very humble and devoted servant ever." 
 
 "Good lad, I believe thee," he answered warmly. 
 "There is something in thy face which draws me to
 
 io8 VISCOUNT VERB. 
 
 trust thee. I have watched thee oft when thou hast 
 little known it : for when Mistress Mary rode forth I 
 have seldom been far away, though not often have I 
 dared to show myself. I read in thine eyes that thou 
 didst love her. I knew that thou wert faithful and 
 watchful. And now, tell me true, boy : is she, as my 
 father would have me believe, one of those who look 
 upon the young Duke of Monmouth as the coming saviour 
 and deliverer of this nation ? And would she look with 
 aversion and displeasure upon one who (if indeed in days 
 to come it comes to be a question of fighting) would 
 be forced by duty and conviction to take up arms upon 
 the other side ? " 
 
 At that question I felt my face grow grave ; for I 
 knew right well how Mistress Mary's heart was with 
 the Duke of Monmouth, and how she did indeed regard 
 him as the coming deliverer of the nation, and the 
 champion of the cause of true religion. Very deep in 
 her heart were these matters buried. Very sacred in 
 her eyes was the cause of him whom she often declared 
 to be the embodiment of all that she held dear in 
 matters appertaining to freedom of government and of 
 faith. Could she indeed ally herself to one who was 
 banded upon the other side ? It would be a hard 
 struggle betwixt love and duty — that at least I was 
 sure of ; and did she think also that her love would 
 be hurtful to him to whom it was given, why, then, 
 in very truth I thought that the scale would be turned 
 against him.
 
 VTSCOUNT VERB. 109 
 
 The Viscount's face fell as I spoke to him of these 
 matters, and told him of the assurance Mistress Mary 
 felt, not only of the integrity of the Duke, but of his 
 right to rule the kingdom as the legitimate son of the 
 King ; and I saw his face cloud over almost as if with 
 impatience, as he answered sharply and decisively, — 
 
 " Why will people persist in believing a mischievous 
 fable ? If the King had a lawful son, he would be 
 glad and thankful to proclaim him, and have done with 
 the endless cabals and plots which are making his life 
 a misery. Why, Dicon, there have been times when he 
 must have been sorely tempted by his black brother's 
 jealousy and spite, and by his love for the Duke, to pro- 
 claim him his lawful heir. But he has never done so ; 
 nay, more, when it has been almost offered to him — 
 as it was to the great Eighth Harry — to appoint his 
 own heir and make an end of these disastrous disputes 
 as to the succession, he has never let himself be tempted 
 to do this injustice to his brother. Honour has with- 
 held him, though certainly were Monmouth his lawful 
 son he would have acted very differently. Some say he 
 is not the King's son at all, despite the affection between 
 them. I tell you plainly, Dicon, that he is by no means 
 the hero you good folk of the West Country imagine. 
 He has many good qualities. He has distinguished him- 
 self in the Dutch wars by many acts of bravery ; but 
 he is tainted by the treachery of the Stuarts — for I 
 will not deny that they are a treacherous race, though 
 I am a loyal servant to the King. He is a bad husband
 
 no VISCOUNT VERB. 
 
 to his virtuous Duchess. The vices of his mother are 
 appearing in him ; and though he is a stanch Protestant 
 and a hater of Popery, yet he is not the saint and the 
 deliverer you enthusiasts believe him. Have a care, 
 Dicon, how you act if ever this comes to be a question 
 of blows and of fighting ; for the kingdom is not with 
 the bastard Duke. We may not do ill that good may 
 come, nor fight against our lawful King to set an usurper 
 on the throne, be he never such a champion of liberty. 
 What followed when Cromwell was ruler though not 
 called King ? A tyranny worse than the nation had 
 ever groaned under in the King's time. The people had 
 had their will then, and it ended in their sighing for 
 their rightful King and bringing him back in triumph. 
 And so it will be again if the Duke of Monmouth is 
 ever foolish enough to try to claim the throne. I doubt 
 me if he will ever succeed in winning it, but I am 
 quite certain that he will never keep it ; and there will 
 be evil days then for those who take his part." 
 
 I listened with grave face and sinking heart to words 
 which affected me more as coming from Lord Vere than 
 they had done when spoken by his noble father and 
 the other gentlemen. Somehow I had fancied that all 
 young and generous souls would go out in love towards 
 our idol the Duke, and to hear him spoken of by Lord 
 Vere in such terms gave me a curious shock. I could 
 not but tremble to think how Mistress Mary would take 
 such words — she who had dreamed her dreams about the 
 Duke till he became to her as the hero of some noble
 
 VISCOUNT VERE. iii 
 
 tale, as the stainless knight of romance going forth in 
 the might of truth and righteousness to tread down all 
 enemies with lofty courage and devotion: 
 
 Methought the Viscount would need all the charm of 
 his grace and the attraction of their mutual love to 
 approach Mistress Mary with such w^ords on his lips 
 and such thoughts in his heart ; but after all, was not 
 such love as theirs proof against all difference of opinion 
 in outward matters? Only to Mistress Mary these things 
 went deep, deep into her heart, and she could not regard 
 them as mere externals. 
 
 This first ride and first talk were by no means the 
 last ; and before I left Court House (with a generous 
 gratuity in my pocket, over and above the sum paid 
 to my uncle) I felt that, despite the wide difierence of 
 our stations, I knew the heart of the Viscount as nobody 
 in the world knew it, and that the word " friendship " 
 between us was no mockery. 
 
 Heart and soul was I with him in his desire to win 
 speech of Mistress Mary, and to plead his cause in person ; 
 and I took back with me a long letter written by Lord 
 Vere, which I promised faithfully to deliver into her 
 own hands, unseen by all the world, so soon as she 
 should be returned and I could find a way of doing this 
 discreetly.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A WINTER OF PLOTS. 
 
 I WENT back to my uncle's house with my head full 
 of romantic stuff about lovers and love's dreams, 
 and with every intention of working might and main to 
 bring about the happiness of the two beings in whom 
 these romantic notions centred — namely, the dashing young 
 Viscount and sweet Mistress Mary Mead. Not only did I 
 resolve to deliver the precious letter upon the first possible 
 opportunity, but I also made up my mind to speak such 
 glowing words of praise anent the writer thereof as should 
 move the heart of any maiden, still more of one who I 
 was very certain was predisposed to think kindly of him 
 of whom I should thus speak. I was little versed in 
 affairs of the heart ; yet I had not read my Shakespeare so 
 earnestly for nothing all these years, and I felt very sure 
 that the heart of a young maid was not of adamant, and 
 that the youthful wooing of which the Viscount had told 
 me could not have failed to make an impression upon the 
 tender and ardent imagination of Mistress Mary. 
 
 Nevertheless, in spite of all the eagerness on my part to 
 set things in train for a happy consummation, I was des-
 
 A WINTER OF PLOTS. 113 
 
 tined to disappointment ; for not only had Mistress Mary 
 not returned to Miss Blake's house when I got back, but I 
 speedily heard that she had accompanied her young name- 
 sake on a visit the latter was paying to some relatives in 
 the adjoining county o£ Devon, and that she was not like 
 to return to Taunton for some months to come. Moreover, 
 I could not learn her exact whereabouts in Devonshire, 
 only that it was at the other side of the county, and nigli 
 to Cornwall. There was plainly no chance for me to pay 
 her a flying visit on Blackbird. I should have to wait 
 until she returned to her abode in the town. I shrewdly 
 suspected that my Lord of Lonsdale had had somewhat to 
 do with this journey of hers far away. Belike he had 
 spoken to his friend Sir Ralph Bridges of his wish to keep 
 his son from the fascinations of Mistress Mary, and this 
 visit for her had been arranged between them. 
 
 Lord Vere was very sorrowful when he heard what had 
 befallen, and declared it all part of a plot. But he was 
 resolved that no machinations on the part of those about 
 them should sunder him from his Mary, and made up his 
 mind to wait in patience till she returned, and then see if 
 he could not make shift by hook or by crook to get speech 
 of her, and plead his cause in person. Meantime he hung 
 much about Taunton, and improved his acquaintance with 
 that city and with many of its inhabitants, making himself 
 well beloved by all who saw him for his gay and winsome 
 ways, and his gracious kindliness of demeanour to liis 
 inferiors. And doubtless this paved the way for what 
 followed later. 
 
 (511J 8
 
 114 A WINTER OF PLOTS. 
 
 I had not been home long before Will Wiseman sought 
 me out, and with an air of secrecy and importance invited 
 me to come when occasion served and visit him of an 
 evening at Master Simpson's house. 
 
 " There be meetings twice or thrice in the week, Dicon," 
 he whispered, with his finger on his lips. " Men say that 
 the King cannot live long — that he has a mortal disease 
 which is slowly consuming him. The friends of liberty 
 are laying their plans, and are taking counsel together 
 what it is best to do. They meet at Master Simpson's oft- 
 times, and if thou wilt come I will take care thou dost 
 hear all that is said. Money is being got together, and 
 men are secretly working amongst their fellows, so that at 
 the right moment the whole county will rise as one man 
 for the right. Come and hear for thyself ; but not a word 
 to thine uncle. He is too cautious a man to join with the 
 friends of freedom. He desires to see how the issue will 
 be decided ere he commits himself to take a side. That 
 is not the stuff of which heroes are made." Will's eyes 
 flashed with his enthusiasm ; and I caught the spirit from 
 him, and vowed I would come so soon as my duties would 
 permit me. 
 
 What Will spoke of mine uncle was too true for me to 
 resent. He was one of those who desired to embrace the 
 winning side, whichever that side should be. I knew well 
 that in his heart he favoured the cause of the Duke of 
 Monmouth ; but he was less sanguine than some of his 
 towns-folk of the chances of the Duke's success, and he had 
 no wish to imperil his life or his living by any unguarded
 
 A WINTER OF PLOTS. T15 
 
 movement that might cause him trouble later. He went 
 steadily about his daily business, talking freely with all 
 who came and went, but always professing that he had 
 neither time nor knowledge to judge such matters. The 
 making of kings was no business of his ; all he strove 
 after was to obey the laws of the land, and give his alle- 
 giance to the reigning sovereign. 
 
 By these methods he succeeded in keeping the confidence 
 and liking of all men ; for a pleasanter companion, and a 
 more hearty man in his ways, it would be hard to find. 
 If ever he heard me speak an unguarded word on great 
 matters, he would smite me on the shoulder, and give me 
 a kindly hint to guard my tongue, lest it should bring 
 me into trouble, and urge me not to meddle with matters 
 beyond my understanding. But I could not abide by 
 such prudent counsel, and was all agog to hear what was 
 the talk of Master Simpson's parlour, whither I repaired 
 whenever I had the chance. 
 
 The men most frequently gathered together there for 
 discussion and mutual encouragement as tlie winter drew 
 on were the two Hewling brothers, of whom mention has 
 been made, and who had wealth and leisure as well as 
 good-will to expend in the cause; Master Herring and 
 Master Hucker ; a gentleman of the name of Shai-pe, who 
 was son to the Bev. Emmanuel Sharpe, who had once been 
 Vicar of St. Mary Magdalen ; and last, but not least, the 
 two Dares, father and son, who always seemed of all 
 present the most to incline to bold counsel and resolute 
 action.
 
 ii6 A WINTER OF PLOTS. 
 
 I should weary the reader were I to give too much in 
 detail all that was planned and discussed at these meetings ; 
 but as the winter days drew on, and rumours from London 
 spoke more certainly of the King's declining health, there 
 was greater and greater desire amongst our friends to rouse 
 in the minds of the people of the West Country a resolve 
 to make a stand against Popery and unlawful tyranny. 
 And I remember well how Heywood Dare stood forth one 
 day and said that he would straightway go to Holland, 
 find the Duke of Monmouth, and take counsel with him ; 
 whilst those who remained behind were to work ceaselessly 
 in his interest here : so that when a blow was struck it 
 might be a heavy and decisive one. 
 
 The Duke of Monmouth was now living at the Hague 
 in a sort of honourable exile. The King had never ceased 
 to regard him with affection ; but the jealousies and dissen- 
 sions of the Court, and the hostility of his own brother, 
 had made him decree this thing for the sake of peace and 
 quietness. It seemed to us that it should have been the 
 Duke of York who ought to have been sent away ; but 
 unluckily we had no voice in the ruling of these matters. 
 It was the Protestant Duke who had been forced to quit 
 the country, and it certainly seemed an excellent thing to 
 establish direct personal relations with him through the 
 medium of Heywood Dare, a man of so much courage and 
 devotion. 
 
 Those who worked amongst the people, sounding them 
 and striving to kindle within their hearts an enthusiasm 
 for the cause, reported favourably of the temper of the
 
 A WINTER OF PLOTS. 117 
 
 common people, but said that the gentry held aloof, and 
 were not to be approached. The influence of the Earl of 
 Lonsdale, Sir William Portman, and Sir Ralph Bridges 
 was very great around Taunton, and all these gentlemen 
 were loyal in their allegiance to what was termed the 
 " Court party." 
 
 Sometimes I was called in and questioned about what 
 I had heard at Court House of the matters appertaining 
 to the Duke, and my reports were not favourable to our 
 wishes. But I ventured once to hint that I thought per- 
 haps the young lord, Viscount Vere, might be won over 
 to our cause ; and Mr. Benjamin Hewling was forthwith 
 requested to seek him out and strive to sound him in the 
 matter. For all those who knew most about the chances 
 of such a struggle and the fortunes of war — should it ever 
 come to a passage of arms — declared many times that we 
 must have men of the better sort to lead and advise our 
 recruits. Undisciplined soldiers would follow an experi- 
 enced and gallant captain, when they would fall away in 
 confusion and fear if they had no one above themselves to 
 look to. I could well believe that there were hundreds 
 who would follow the Viscount to danger and death, and 
 fight to the very last gasp, who would turn tail and run 
 like sheep had they only a plain townsman at their head. 
 
 How Mr. Benjamin Hewling fared on his mission I did 
 not hear at once, but I thought in my heart that Lord 
 Vere would scarce be adamant to a cause in which his 
 Mary's heart was so bound up. He despised and hated 
 the Duke of York — I knew that very well — albeit he
 
 ii8 A WINTER OF PLOTS. 
 
 declared his conviction of the necessity of supporting the 
 rightful heir to the crown be he never so personally un- 
 beloved. But if Mr. Benjamin, with his silver tongue and 
 gentle ways, or Mistress Mary, with pleading glances and 
 eloquent words, could make him see the matter differently, 
 why, then, in him the good cause would have an able 
 recruit ; for my Lord Vere was skilled in every kind of 
 martial exercise, had seen action abroad, and was of no 
 small personal valour and gallantry. 
 
 I not unfrequently saw him in the streets arm in arm 
 with Mr. Hewling, and I heard of him as being seen within 
 their hospitable doors, whilst men spoke of the friendship 
 which was growing up between him and the two brothers, 
 of whom all men thought so well. That they were grow- 
 ing to be friends was evident enough, but whether the 
 brothers Hewling would persuade him to look at public 
 matters with their eyes was what none could say as yet. 
 
 Things were in this way at the approach of Christmas, 
 and of that busy festive season which kept me so close at 
 home that I could scarce stir abroad in search of amuse- 
 ment or information. There seemed to be nothing but 
 coming and going from morning till night — the lack of 
 rain, which still continued even during the winter, making 
 the roads better for travellers, and the excited state of the 
 country tending to make men restless and anxious for news. 
 
 But what excited me more than the rumours from Lon- 
 don or the preparations for Christmas-tide was the return 
 of Mistress Mary to Miss Blake's house just before the 
 festive season came.
 
 A WINTER OF PLOTS. 119 
 
 I did not know that she was back ; for the school had 
 broken up for the recess, and my informant Lizzie, who 
 kept me conversant with what went on within those walls, 
 had not heard anything of the matter when I was asked to 
 come and read to the ladies, as I was in the way of doing 
 from time to time. When therefore I entered the parlour, 
 with my book beneath my arm and the most recent news- 
 letter in my hand, who should be there, in her accustomed 
 seat beside the fire, but Mistress Mary Mead, looking as 
 sweet and lovely as ever, though perhaps a little pale ; and 
 seated beside her, with his hungry, cruel-looking eyes 
 almost always fixed upon her face, was the Rev. Nicholas 
 Blewer, the man whom above all others in Taunton Town 
 I feared and hated. 
 
 How came he there ? and how dared he sit beside 
 Mistress Mary as though it were his right, and keep his 
 evil eyes so constantly upon her face as he was doing now ? 
 I felt my blood boil in my veins as I saw him, and I 
 should well have liked to take the knave by the throat 
 and fling him out at the door. But instead I was forced 
 to sit in my place and read to him as well as to the rest, 
 and listen to his comments upon the news of the week — 
 comments which, as I well saw, brought the flush of anger 
 many times into Mistress Mary's cheek. For Mr. Blewer 
 was a bitter enemy of those who held for liberty and the 
 Duke ; and it was whispered that at heart he was a Papist, 
 and every whit as cruel as the Duke of York. 
 
 Now I trust that in thus speaking of Mr. Blewer it will 
 not be thought that I would willingly speak evil of any
 
 I20 A WINTER OF PLOTS. 
 
 man called to a holy office, or that I have any hatred 
 towards the clergy of the Established Church of the land, 
 for this is far from being the case. I hold that we owe 
 them all reverence and honour, and, as these pages will 
 show, I account Mr. Axe a great and noble man, albeit he 
 took our contrary part in the struggle I am coming to. 
 Yet inasmuch as there are black sheep in every flock, and 
 as the cassock and surplice do not do away with a man's 
 evil nature — nay, the very fact that a man of unbridled 
 passions should blaspheme the name of God and the Holy 
 Ghost by taking upon himself vows for which he is unfit, 
 makes his office of necessity a mockery and a stum- 
 bling-block — so it always has seemed to me that if an 
 ordained priest of God is untrue to his calling, he becomes 
 a much worse man than if he had not mocked God by 
 taking such vows into his lips. At least I can but say 
 that Mr. Blewer always appeared to me to be an emissary 
 of the Evil One disguised as a servant of God, and I am 
 sure that Mistress Mary shrank from him as though he 
 were indeed such an one. 
 
 It was a great matter of wonderment to me how he 
 came to be in Miss Blake's parlour, for I was sure that 
 neither she nor Mrs. Musgrave had any love for him. 
 These ladies and their pupils (such as resided beneath their 
 roof) attended service at St. Mary's Church, as it was con- 
 sidered right and proper to do, and Mr. Axe was revered 
 and beloved by them. But why this evil-faced Mr. Blewer 
 was admitted was a source of much perplexity to me, and 
 my perplexity was turned to alarm when I perceived that
 
 A WINTER OF PLOTS. 121 
 
 upon rising to take his leave he saluted Mistress Mary's 
 hand with a look which could not well be mistaken, and 
 made as though he would have gone further and saluted 
 her lips also had she not drawn herself away with a 
 decision that was not to be mistaken. 
 
 I saw an ugly look spring into his eyes at that, and 
 thought his smile more hideous than a frown would have 
 been. 
 
 " Ah well, I must be patient, sweetheart," he said. " We 
 shall learn to understand each other better in time." 
 
 Then, with a bow which included all the ladies, he re- 
 tired, and I was almost astonished to see gentle Mistress 
 Mary dash the hand that he had kissed against the marble 
 mantel-shelf with such force that she must have bruised 
 the tender skin. 
 
 " That odious man ! " she cried, with unwonted heat. 
 " Prithee, dear madam, have pity upon me, and let him 
 come here no more." 
 
 " Dear Mary, I like him as little as thou," answered 
 Miss Blake, with a shake of the head. " I know he is an 
 evil creature. But what can I do, when your worthy 
 guardian bids me give him access from time to time, that 
 he may pay his addresses to you, and tells me that he 
 does this with his approval and consent ? " 
 
 I almost gasped at this, for I began to see that Mistress 
 Mary was like to be made the victim of a plot which 
 seemed vile and base to me, although I was certain that 
 Lord Lonsdale had no idea of acting unjustly or cruelly. 
 Doubtless he would think Mr. Blewer a suitable husband
 
 122 A WINTER OF PLOTS. 
 
 for his ward. No one knew aught against him, so far as 
 I had ever heard, and he had some money, and came of a 
 family as good as Mistress Mary's. To get her safely and 
 quickly married would, of course, be the easiest way of 
 keeping her out of the path of his son. I could not wonder 
 at the turn matters had taken, and yet my heart felt hot 
 within me as I thought of the Viscount and then recalled 
 the cruel, wolfish face of Mr. Blewer. 
 
 That night, as I reached my room, I stepped out upon 
 the balcony and eagerly scanned the windows of the house 
 I had just quitted. Once or twice it had been my hap 
 to see the fair face of Mistress Mary looking out from a 
 window not very far away ; and to-night fortune favoured 
 me, for I had not been at my post more than a few minutes 
 before a curtain was drawn aside and a gleam of light shone 
 out. Then quickly a casement was flung open as if by an 
 impatient hand, and Mistress Mary leaned out into the 
 clear frosty night as though eager to inhale the fresh cold 
 air. I thought I heard a sound break from her like a sob 
 or a sigh. That she was in perplexity and trouble I could 
 not doubt, and I longed with a longing that would brook 
 no delay to go and comfort her. 
 
 I looked into the yard below. All was perfectly quiet 
 and tranquil. I scanned all the windows of both houses, 
 but no light shone from any save Mistress Mary's. I stood 
 above her in my balcony, clasping the letter I had dashed 
 in to fetch in my hand. The next minute I had hidden it 
 in the breast of my doublet, and was swinging myself like 
 a monkey from balcony and waterspout to balcony and 
 
 I
 
 A WINTER OF PLOTS. 123 
 
 waterspout, till my movements attracted her attention, and 
 she gave a little cry of fear. 
 
 " Hist, mistress ! " I cried in a low voice ; " fear not. 
 It is I — Dicon Snowe. I have somewhat to say to thee, 
 and somewhat to give. Have no fear ; I will reach thee 
 without hurt." 
 
 For if my back was crooked, and my legs not of great 
 service for long walks, I had a length and strength of 
 arm that made amends for much, and such a transit as 
 this was but child's play to me. I was soon upon the 
 balcony outside the window by which she stood ; but 
 I came no further, knowing my place better than to in- 
 trude upon her. 
 
 " Mistress Mary," I said eagerly, " I have a letter for 
 you from my lord the young Viscount Vere. I have had 
 it these three months, but never have seen you to deliver 
 it. I sware to him I would not let it leave my hands till 
 I could place it in yours. Take it and read it ; and if 
 there be any answer, I will make shift to deliver that. 
 For I love my lord as much as he deserves to be loved by 
 high and low ; and since I know his heart is bound up in 
 love for you, I would fain carry him good tidings." 
 
 It was perhaps overbold of me to speak so, but my 
 heart seemed burning within me ; and although Mistress 
 Mary's cheek glowed and she turned away with her letter, 
 yet I saw the soft light which had come into her eyes, 
 and I knew that her heart was not cold to him, liowever 
 she might have schooled herself to think she must thwart 
 his love.
 
 124 ^ WINTER OF PLOTS. 
 
 She read her letter from end to end whilst I stood and 
 watched her, though since she discreetly turned her back 
 to me I could not see its effect upon her. Nevertheless, 
 when she turned round I was sure there were tears upon 
 her cheek, and I did not think that they were tears of 
 sorrow. 
 
 " O Dicon," she said, coming forward towards me with 
 the confidence that a sister might show to a brother, 
 " Lord Vere says he has told all the story to thee. What 
 must I say ? What must I do when there be so many 
 things against it, and it will hurt him so with his father 
 if I let him have his way ? " 
 
 " Methinks, lady, it will hurt him the more if you be 
 cruel to him," I answered eagerly ; " for his very heart 
 is bound up in this matter, and he has been faithful all 
 these years." 
 
 " I know it, I know it ! How can I doubt it, and how 
 could I help loving him, when he was suffered to be all the 
 world to me in days of yore ? But a maid may not 
 always wed as her heart prompts, and I would suffer 
 untold woe myself sooner than hurt him. And it has 
 been said to me that it would hurt him grievously if I 
 were to wed with him ; and in very truth there be many 
 and grievous barriers betwixt us," and she sighed heavily, 
 whilst a cloud came over her face. 
 
 I guessed of what she was thinking, and that it was 
 the different view they took of the coming strife, and I 
 knew not how to reassure her here; but I ventured to 
 remark, —
 
 A WINTER OF PLOTS. 125 
 
 " But Mr. Blewer hates the cause of the Duke and of 
 freedom as my lord the Viscount never would. Sure it 
 were better to marry a noble foe than one so cruel and 
 false ! " 
 
 " Marry Mr. Blewer ! " cried Mistress Mary, with a 
 vehemence I scarce believed her capable of ; " sooner would 
 I die than do that ! Nay, come what will, none shall 
 coerce me there. I can live and die a maid, if Heaven so 
 will it, but I will never wed with yon bad man ! " 
 
 Right glad was I to hear her speak with such spirit 
 and resolve ; for we of the stronger sex are always half 
 afraid that women may be cajoled or coerced into anything 
 if only the persecution be determined enough. Yet I could 
 not get her to intrust me with a letter to Lord Vere, nor 
 yet with a direct message ; only when I said that I would 
 tell him what had passed betwixt us twain, she did not say 
 me nay. 
 
 I had no rest till I had got speech of the Viscount and 
 had told him all that had passed. His brow darkened 
 ominously as he heard of Mr. Blewer, and of his own 
 father's support of such a suit. 
 
 " He had better have a care how he goads me," I heard 
 him mutter through his shut teeth ; " he may chance to 
 find he has gone too far an he treat her and me thus." 
 
 Then I told of the interview I had had witli Mistress 
 Mary, and his face kindled at the recital. As I finished 
 he burst forth, — 
 
 " They have made her think she will injure me by her 
 love. I must see her myself, and show her the folly of
 
 126 A WINTER OF PLOTS. 
 
 that belief. Dicon lad, thou art a trusty comrade ; thou 
 must do yet one thing more for me. Tliou must show me 
 how I may get secretly to the balcony of my lady's room, 
 and so have speech with her, no man but thee knowing it. 
 Once face to face with her, I warrant I will chase away 
 her fears and her doubts. Thou shalt keep thy watch 
 whilst I speak with her ; nor will I enter her room, but 
 only stand without as thou hast done. But see her I 
 must, else shipwreck may come of the happiness of two 
 lives. Wilt thou help me in this, good Dicon ? " 
 
 I think I would have helped him to whatever he asked 
 with such a look and smile ; but anything so like a repe- 
 tition of the romantic story of Romeo and Juliet kindled 
 my ardent enthusiasm and interest. I had very small 
 doubts myself that Mistress Mary would be at her window 
 again to-night, half repenting her of her refusal to send a 
 message, and on the look-out for more news of her lover ; 
 therefore as soon as the house was quiet I showed the 
 Viscount how the transit to the balcony might be made, 
 and myself stood in another balcony commanding all the 
 windows, just out of ear-shot, but in full view of the 
 lovers, and ready to give them any assistance by warning 
 or counsel. 
 
 It was a bold scheme, but like many such it won its 
 reward. My lord had not waited there above ten minutes 
 before the curtains were drawn back, the casement opened, 
 and then, with a little cry which penetrated even to my 
 ears. Mistress Mary came face to face with her lover. 
 
 I was very happy at the success of this experiment ;
 
 A WINTER OF PLOTS. 127 
 
 but I confess I had time to grow very cold before the 
 casement closed again and my lord called cautiously to me 
 to join him. I did this without much trouble, and then 
 showed him how he might reach the ground without 
 danger of falling. Soon we stood together in the paved 
 court-yard of the inn, and he grasped my hands in both 
 of his, whilst I could see that his eyes were shining as 
 brilliantly as stars. 
 
 " Dicon," he said, " thou art the best and truest of com- 
 rades. I will never forget thy good offices this night." 
 
 And I felt already abundantly rewarded for what I had 
 done. 
 
 It was not my place to ask questions, but surely there 
 was no need in face of my lord's joyous and triumphant 
 bearing. He seemed to tread on air. He passed his arm 
 through mine, and drew me forth into the street with him 
 through the arched gateway, which was not closed at 
 night in quiet times ; nor did we pause till we reached the 
 bridge and stood looking down into the flowing dark 
 waters together. 
 
 " I could walk all night for very happiness ! " cried the 
 Viscount, with that exhilaration of spirit which comes 
 from a deep joy. " Can England itself boast a fairer and 
 more gracious maid than my Mary ? Ah, the days will 
 come when my father will rejoice to welcome her as a 
 daughter ! None could stand long against such sweetness 
 and beauty." 
 
 Then, his energies having been spent in pacing awhile 
 through the frosty night, we turned our steps homewards.
 
 128 A WINTER OF PLOTS. 
 
 I gained ingress by means of a small side door, the key of 
 which I had in my pocket ; and my lord slept that night 
 at the Three Cups, and rode forth in the morning ; whilst 
 a white hand was waved for a moment from a window 
 above the yard, and then quickly withdrawn. 
 
 The next time that I was able, at Will Wiseman's 
 eager instigation, to find my way to Master Simpson's 
 when a meeting had gathered there, I saw Lord Vere 
 enter arm in arm with Mr. Hewling ; and Will gave my 
 ribs a triumphant dig with his elbow as he whispered 
 joyfully,— 
 
 " See, we are getting nobles to join us at last. Mr. 
 Hewling has prevailed with my lord Vere." 
 
 I nodded, keeping my own counsel ; but I had a shrewd 
 notion that something else besides the arguments and per- 
 suasions of Mr. Hewling had prevailed to make a convert 
 of the Viscount.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 "Z^ ROI EST MORTr 
 
 " "PA ICON ! Dicon ! Come down, lad ; come down ! The 
 •L/ whole town is beside itself, and we want thine eyes 
 and thy tongue here. Get up and come down. Lose not 
 a moment ! Heaven help us all if the thing be true ! " 
 
 I was roused from my sleep on a bright February morn- 
 ing by the hearty tones of my uncle's sonorous voice. I 
 lost not a moment in springing up and hurrying into my 
 clothes, for there was an urgency in his manner which 
 betokened that something unwonted was afoot. 
 
 Truth to tell, I was later abed than was my wont, 
 owing to having aided my Lord Vere to another stolen 
 interview with Mistress Mary the previous evening, fol- 
 lowed by a second stolen interview at Mr. Hewling's house, 
 where some important letters had been read and discussed, 
 and where Mr. Speke, from Ilminster, had attended, and 
 had given an encouraging report of the state of public 
 feeling in his part of the world. 
 
 It was now known all over the country, I suppose, that 
 the King was grievously ill and like to die ; albeit there 
 were many who declared that he would be given back in 
 (oil) 9
 
 I30 ''LE ROI EST MORT." 
 
 answer to the prayers from the churches. I suppose all 
 men who had any sort of love for their country or interest 
 in public affairs felt grave anxiety just at this time. For 
 there could be small doubt that it would go hard but that 
 bloodshed of some kind there would be, were the Duke of 
 York to succeed to the throne ; and yet there seemed no 
 other to take that place, seeing that the Duke of Mon- 
 mouth was an exile, and that he would have to fight for 
 the crown ere he could hope to wear it. Men who re- 
 membered the horrors of civil war a generation back, the 
 disruption of families, and the bloodshed and confusion, 
 shook their heads mournfully, and advised any submission 
 rather than a repetition of such fearsome things ; but we 
 of younger and rasher spirit — we who had never tasted 
 of such horrors, but looked only on the glory and honour 
 to be reaped in warfare — felt very differently. I think I, 
 despite my physical deformities, should have been grieved 
 to the heart had any prophet arisen to say that there 
 would be no fighting in our days. The martial spirit had 
 seized upon me. I, in common with others, watched 
 eagerly the marshalling and exercising of the train-bands 
 and militia whenever they assembled under their leaders ; 
 and although we knew right well that they were thus 
 mustered and put through their exercises with a view to 
 showing the towns-folk how useless would be any rising 
 of the rabble, when these bands could at once be brought 
 out to crush it, yet knowing the individual men in the 
 ranks, we were certain that half of them at least were hot 
 in the cause of our Duke, and that if the chance for joining
 
 ''LE ROI EST MORT." 131 
 
 him arose, they would come over, arms, ammunition, 
 bright-coloured uniforms, and all. 
 
 But I must return to that day when the great news 
 reached Taunton. I rushed dowTistairs, finishing my toilet 
 as I did so, to find all the lower rooms filled with excited 
 folk who had come in from the streets the moment the 
 news had got wind, and were so crowding round a travel- 
 stained messenger that it was some time before I could 
 approach near enough to hear what he was saying. But I 
 did not need to do that to know what had happened, for 
 the news was in every mouth, — 
 
 " The King is dead ! the King is dead ! God save us 
 all ! The Duke of York is proclaimed King in his stead ! " 
 
 " The King was poisoned by his brother ! " whispered a 
 voice in the crowd. I know not whence it came ; but the 
 word was taken up in the lowest of tones, and one heard 
 it go surging along accompanied by a sort of shuddering 
 sigh, as though men half feared to utter the fearful words. 
 Other wild whispers soon got afloat. Some vowed it was 
 the Queen who had administered the poison in her intoler- 
 ant jealousy ; others, that it was the notorious Duchess of 
 Portsmouth ; but the favourite and most lasting impression 
 of those who believed that foul means had been employed 
 to put the King out of the way, was that his brother the 
 Duke had contrived to poison him, either through his snuff" 
 or in his food, — and since he was the man of all others to 
 reap advantage from that death, the opinion flourished and 
 gained ground amongst his enemies apace. 
 
 But crowding round the weary messenger, who had
 
 132 ''LE ROI EST MORT." 
 
 galloped to Taunton with the news since noon the previous 
 day, we strove to learn from him every detail of the cala- 
 mity ; and he told his tale again and again. 
 
 That the King had been out of health since the fall of 
 the previous year was a thing known to all the country. 
 Some called it gout, and said it was a matter of small 
 moment ; others shook their heads over it, and said it 
 showed a break up of the sound constitution which had 
 hitherto marked the monarch. But although there had 
 been much anxious discussion as to the succession, men 
 were not really prepared for this sudden end to the King's 
 life ; and when we heard that he had been only four days 
 actually ill, the end did indeed seem to be sudden. 
 
 But the terrible thing to us was the story with which 
 the messenger said that all London was ringing — namely, 
 that upon his death-bed the King had been admitted into 
 the Romish Church ; that a priest had been found and 
 brought to him by his brother ; and that all the courtiers, 
 with the exception of the Earls of Feversham and Bath, 
 had been turned out of the room whilst extreme unction 
 had been administered, and his Majesty confessed and 
 shrived by the priest found with some difficulty for the office. 
 
 This was indeed grave news ; for if the Duke of York 
 had acted thus, was there any hope but that he would 
 openly profess the Romish faith when he was set upon the 
 throne ? At once a vision of Smithfield fires rose before 
 the mind's eye of numbers and numbers of those who 
 heard the story. It seemed to us that with a Papist King, 
 a man notorious for his cruelty and love of inflicting misery
 
 "Z^ ROI EST MORTr 133 
 
 and bloodshed, any sort of horror was possible. What 
 wonder that faces grew pale, that we looked at each other 
 in silent amaze, whilst the women wept aloud and gathered 
 their children into their arms as though to protect them 
 from some menacing peril ! 
 
 " And the King himself, what did he say ? " was asked 
 in many quarters. " Did he speak of the Duke — the Duke 
 of Monmouth ? Did he say aught of him and his rights ? " 
 
 The messenger shook his head as this question reached 
 him. The man was one who knew our Duke and thought 
 well of him. He was a West Country fellow himself, and 
 not yet vitiated by the atmosphere of the Court in which 
 he had lived so long. 
 
 " His Majesty called for his other children," said he — 
 meaning, of course, children born out of lawful wedlock ; 
 for, as all men know, the Queen was childless, to the great 
 grief of the nation — " but of the Duke of Monmouth no 
 word was spoken. The King did not breathe his name — 
 so, at least, it is averred. None dared to speak of him, the 
 Duke of York standing by. Nay, my friends, I fear me 
 there is no hope for England in that quarter. The Duke 
 of York is King in his brother's stead. But what we may 
 lawfully do to stand by the laws and the rights of our 
 nation and our faith, that let every man do to the utmost 
 that is in him. James may wear the crown and be called 
 King, but we will have no tyrant forcing us to a faith 
 against which we have fought and triumphed years ago. 
 He may rule us indeed, but he shall not make of us Papists 
 nor slaves ! "
 
 134 ''LE ROI EST MORT." 
 
 A mufSed cheer went round the room as these words 
 were spoken ; but many were there standing by who did 
 not endorse the first part of the speech, but cast looks one 
 at another which seemed to say that it would go hard 
 before they would acknowledge a Papist King ! 
 
 Then a news-letter was produced, and I was called upon 
 to read it loud whilst the weary messenger supped. Of 
 course it stopped short before the death of his Majesty, 
 but it gave an account of the life of the Court up till the 
 time of the King's seizure ; and gay and scandalous, indeed, 
 did the history of the last Sunday evening read to us 
 quiet and sober country folks. Women shook their heads 
 as they heard in whose company the King spent his time, 
 and whispered that death had come as a judgment from 
 heaven. Yet few eyes were dry as the letter spoke of the 
 sufferings of the King, and of his fortitude and courage 
 under them. 
 
 " After all he was the King, with all his faults and 
 vices," they said ; and we all felt how little there was of 
 kingliness in the dark Duke who had succeeded him. 
 
 I conjured up before my mental vision the picture of 
 the other Duke as I had seen him a year or two back, his 
 handsome open face, his winning address, his kindly grace 
 of manner, and his care and love for all his poorer subjects 
 (for so did I call them even now in my heart). How 
 could I help trusting in him as the rightful King, when 
 his touch had made me whole, as only the touch of a true 
 King's hand could do ? 
 
 I found myself telling the story again almost ere I
 
 ''LE ROI EST MORTr 135 
 
 knew it, and the messenger, who was working steadily at 
 the platter of good victuals before him, kept throwing 
 keen glances at me and at the people round, and making 
 odd sounds the while. 
 
 I had hardly finished the reading, and the telling of my 
 well-known tale, before a little stir in the crowd announced 
 an arrival ; and looking over the heads of the people — for I 
 was set upon a stool to be better heard and seen — I beheld 
 the cadaverous visage and lantern jaws of Mr. Blewer. 
 He came in looking to right and left with his sharp, ferret- 
 like eyes, and his ears seemed to be on the alert to catch 
 any words that might fall from unwary lips. Something 
 in the sinister aspect of the man, and in the loathing with 
 which I had come to regard him, caused the words I was 
 reading to die away upon my lips, and the sudden silence 
 which fell upon me attracted the attention of all present 
 to the entrance of the new-comer. 
 
 Mr. Blewer was little beloved in Taunton. It was 
 firmly held by many that he was nothing more nor less 
 than a spy in the interests of the Duke of York, or the 
 King as we must needs learn to call him ; unless, indeed — 
 but such things are best not spoken too openly. There 
 were only too many rogues abroad in the world who Kved 
 by selling information to one or other of the difierent par- 
 ties at Court, and men were strongly of the opinion that 
 the Rev. Nicholas was one of these miscreants. His very 
 appearing so stealthily in our midst at this time of excite- 
 ment seemed to augur ill, and the murmur of voices died 
 into silence as he made his way into the room.
 
 136 "Z^ ROI EST MORTr 
 
 " Have a care, good people, have a care ! " he said, with 
 a leering smile that was uglier than his scowl. " I thought 
 I heard some suspicious word — some phrases that savoured 
 too much of sedition ! Have a care how you let your 
 unruly member run away with you ! There be birds in 
 the air to carry such words whither ye would not. If 
 God has thought good to take one monarch to Himself, He 
 has given us another of the same name and race to set 
 upon the throne. Let us thank Him from our hearts for 
 this great goodness, and cry aloud in joy and gratitude, 
 ' Long live King James ! ' " 
 
 As he spoke he lifted his hat and waved it above his 
 head, and all who wore theirs instinctively uncovered, and 
 many amongst us, led by the hearty voice of my uncle, 
 strove to raise the shout, " Long live King James the 
 Second ! " But the words seemed to stick in the throats 
 of many ; and Mr. Blewer looked sharply round upon us, 
 saying, with that evil smile of his, — 
 
 " Why, that is but a sorry shout for a new-made King ; 
 but perchance your loyal hearts are too full yet of grief 
 for our noble King Charles to give a right royal welcome 
 to his successor ! " 
 
 " Ay, sir," said my uncle ; " that is the case with us. We 
 can scarce yet rejoice in the thought that any other sits in 
 the place of good King Charles, be he never so great and 
 good a prince. Prosperous and peaceful has England been 
 beneath his fatherly sway ; and sad are we to learn that 
 he is no more, though I trow that Taunton men will not 
 be lacking in loving loyalty to his successor."
 
 ''LE ROI EST MORTr 137 
 
 Many asseverations of this kind were made, and the talk 
 grew animated and general. Being no longer required to 
 read the news-letter, which Mr. Blewer had taken into his 
 own hands, I slipped away through the throng, and found 
 myself face to face with Will Wiseman, who caught me 
 by the arm and drew me forth into the street with him. 
 
 " It has come then, Dicon ! " he whispered, evidently in 
 great excitement : " the King is dead, and another King 
 must sit upon the throne. But whether King James the 
 Second, as in sooth he will be, will be — " 
 
 " Hist, Will, be not so rash ! " I exclaimed, drawing him 
 into an entry and looking nervously round ; for I had 
 caught some caution from the precept and example of my 
 uncle, and I knew that men had paid dear before now for 
 rash words spoken under stress of excitement. " Take 
 heed how thou speakest. If Mr. Blewer were to hear thee, 
 it might go ill with thee in the days to come." 
 . " A pest upon his ugly face and meddlesome, prying 
 ways ! " cried Will hotly ; for he hated Mr. Blewer even 
 more than I did, and with some reason, since that worthy 
 had done many an ill turn to his master, and had dealt 
 many cuffs and hard words to the lad himself. 
 
 Will, as ill-luck would have it, had in his pocket a piece 
 of chalk, and being gifted with the power of drawing lam- 
 poons with a wondrous ease and dexterity, he solaced 
 himself by drawing upon the wall, as we stood, two repre- 
 sentations of Mr. Blewer, in both of wliich liis hideous 
 face, lantern jaws, and great cavernous mouth were delin- 
 eated with more truth than flattery. In the first of these
 
 138 ''LE ROI EST MORE" 
 
 pictures the clergyman was represented as preaching from 
 the pulpit, the ungainly action of the man being hit off 
 with wondrous fidelity. In the other he was portrayed as 
 being whipped by the hangman at the cart's tail — a fate 
 we had amused ourselves by prophesying for him sometimes 
 when reckoning upon the good days which Taunton should 
 enjoy when " King Monmouth " should be upon the throne. 
 In both pictures his mouth was equally wide open, and 
 beneath each Will w^rote, in rude letters, — 
 
 " THE WORSHIPFUL AND REVEREND MR. NICHOLAS BLEWER 
 EXTOLLING THE DIVINE RIGHT OF KINGS." 
 
 I doubled myself up with laughter at the clever picture, 
 and a small crowd of laughing men and boys gathered 
 round to admire. We were passing comments far from 
 flattering to Mr. Blewer, and Will was touching up his 
 handiwork so as to make the likeness a little more fright- 
 ful, when a sudden scattering of the bystanders and a 
 few words of whispered warning made us turn suddenly, 
 to see Mr. Blewer himself regarding us with a baleful 
 light in his eyes, and such a scowl of malevolence upon 
 his brow that I wished Will's talents anywhere else at 
 that moment. I drew him away as fast as I could, but 
 not before we heard the harsh, grating tones of Mr. 
 Blewer 's voice following us, — 
 
 " Very good. Will Wiseman, very good. It will not be 
 the fault of Nicholas Blewer if thou dost not taste the 
 discipline of the hangman's whip before he has done with 
 thee."
 
 "Z^ ROI EST MORTP 139 
 
 " O Will, why didst thou do it ? " I asked, in an 
 access of fear and trembling. " My uncle ever teaches 
 us to speak with respect of dignitaries, even though they 
 be none of the best. I fear me we were wrong in this, 
 and shall suffer for it. Mr. Blewer is not a man who 
 forgives or forgets." 
 
 " Let him remember an he pleases — I care not," an- 
 swered Will, who had a much higher courage than I, and 
 far more of that reckless daring which I read of with 
 envy and admiration, but never attained to myself. It 
 was one of the things I most admired in him, though it 
 sometimes made me fear that he would get into trouble 
 sooner or later. 
 
 We walked back to his home together, talking eagerly 
 of the great news of the day. Personally, we had no 
 especial regrets for his late Majesty, and could not but 
 rejoice in the prospect of the coming strife ; for that 
 England would calmly accept James Duke of York as her 
 King was a thing incomprehensible to us, owing to the 
 element of faction in which we had been living. We our- 
 selves so thoroughly believed in the rights of the exiled 
 Monmouth, that we could not credit or understand that 
 these had never been greatly believed in by the mass of 
 the nation, and that the King's brother was likely to obtain 
 all the support of the lovers of established monarchy, as 
 well as of those who, whilst personally regretting the 
 character of the man, would not be a party to a measure 
 of exclusion which should keep tlie true heir from the 
 throne, or favour a possible usurper.
 
 I40 ''LE ROI EST MORT." 
 
 As days went by the excitement did not lessen. All 
 manner of wild rumours were flying about ; but from my 
 lord the Viscount, who came daily into Taunton on one 
 errand or another — in hopes, as I knew, of getting sight 
 or speech of Mistress Mary — I heard the truest tidings. 
 
 King James had declared, immediately on succeeding to 
 his new estate, that he would guard the established religion 
 of the country as the choicest treasure of his crown ; and 
 a thrill of joy and triumph ran through the country, whilst 
 men swore that the Prince had been sorely maligned, and 
 that whatever his wife might be, he was no Papist at 
 heart. 
 
 But then, on the very heels of the first good news, came 
 tidings that the King was going openly to Mass with his 
 wife, that the oratory chapel fitted up for her was to be 
 thrown open for public worship, that the Papists all over 
 the country were rejoicing, and that banished priests and 
 Jesuits were beginning to creep back, certain that good 
 days were in store for them at last. 
 
 Then still more ugly whispers (as some thought) got 
 abroad. The King had consented to summon a Parliament, 
 having indeed but small choice in the matter ; but it was 
 known in many circles that he had received a large sum 
 of money from the French King in order to make him 
 almost independent of that body, and to bribe and corrupt 
 its members when chosen, that it might be merely an 
 engine for the oppression of the people at the will of a 
 tyrannical monarch. 
 
 It was steps like these that so roused the scorn and ire
 
 '' LE ROI EST MORXr 141 
 
 of Lord Vere. Had the new monarch been true and up- 
 right in his dealings ; had he thrown off the fatal yoke of 
 France, and trusted himself to his loyal people as the 
 House of Tudor (with all their faults) had ever been able 
 to do, I think that even the gentle pleadings of Mistress 
 Mary would scarce have served to turn him back from 
 that loyalty to the crown which was his as by natural 
 inheritance. But this crooked statecraft and treacherous 
 dealing roused all the generous indignation and scorn 
 within him which the young are wont to feel when 
 brought face to face with what is base and false. His 
 father and the elder men might shrug their shoulders, 
 and say that these things had to be ; that it was part of 
 the essence of kingcraft ; that it was useless to hope for 
 better. But the Viscount could not take this view of the 
 matter. Perhaps he had imbibed more of the opinions 
 and feeling of the towns-folk than he well knew at the 
 time. At any rate, as the days flew by, and we heard 
 more and more of the methods of the new King, a dark 
 frown would often rest upon his brow, and he would say 
 with scornful vehemence, " It is shame that such a man 
 should call himself England's King ! " 
 
 The dissenters of Taunton — and they were very many — 
 were thrown into great commotion and wrath at the news of 
 the treatment received at the hands of Lord Chief-Justice 
 Jeffreys by that great and good man Kichard Baxter, who 
 was brought before him to answer for some rash words 
 spoken in the indignation aroused by the harsh treatment 
 given him for no other offence than declining to use
 
 142 "Z^ ROI EST MORT." 
 
 the Book of Common Prayer in public worship. We had 
 just before heard with horror of the inhuman punishment 
 inflicted by the same judge upon Oates and Dangerfield. 
 Not that we felt sympathy with the vile informers who 
 had brought so many innocent persons to the block, but 
 that the ribaldry and cruelty of the judge filled men 
 with horror ; and the more so because we knew that this 
 same judge was likely to come again to the West Country 
 for the autumn assizes, and that should any luckless dis- 
 senter be brought before him here, he might make uj) his 
 mind to look for neither justice nor mercy from such a 
 judge. The account of the insults and brutal language to 
 which this aged divine and his friends and advocates were 
 subjected by Lord Jeftreys made the blood boil in the veins 
 of those who read and those who heard. No jury save 
 one chosen by the miserable Sherifis of London, mere tools 
 in the hand of the government, would have dared to re- 
 turn a verdict of guilty. And when it was known that 
 Jeffreys would have had the good old man whipped at the 
 cart's tail through London, had it not been that for once 
 he was overborne by his brethren on the bench, a sense of 
 horror and loathing arose in the minds of honest and 
 merciful men, not only against the wicked Judge himself, 
 but against the King who could smile approval on such a 
 debauched servant, and actually associate him with Lord 
 Guildford, the Keeper of the Seals, with the evident inten- 
 tion of promoting him still higher if he continued to go 
 about his work in the same way. 
 
 The elections and the coronation all added to the dismay
 
 '' LE ROT EST MORT:' 143 
 
 of the Protei5tanfc party. It was asserted that the King 
 had so greatly shortened the service that it was most 
 meagre and insufficient, and that this was plainly due 
 to his Popish reluctance to take part in any function of 
 the church he had sworn to uphold and revere. His par- 
 simony was bitterly and scornfully commented upon; for 
 the same spirit of greed which had made him refuse the 
 usual splendid obsequies to the late King (so that men 
 spoke of King Charles as having received " the burial of 
 an ass "), caused him to do away with much of the pageantry 
 of his own coronation, and greatly was this resented by 
 the people, who were by no means too friendly towards 
 him from the beginning. 
 
 We of Taunton heard these stories with a species of sombre 
 joy. There was more afoot in the city just now than I 
 knew at the time. My uncle kept me busily employed 
 reading and telling the news. I still continued to take 
 the news-letter into Miss Blake's house and read it to the 
 ladies there. I was often sent errands hither and thither 
 into the country, and kept more busy than I had ever 
 been before ; and though I was dimly aware that much 
 was seething below the surface in the hearts of our to"\ATis- 
 folk, I was not at all certain whither it was tending. 
 
 The elections to which I have alluded took place in 
 May, and the returns were most wonderfully against our 
 wishes, and in favour of the Tory and Court party. The 
 King was said to have got just that sort of packed Parlia- 
 ment which he desired, and would in all probability keep 
 it all through his reign. This was a heavy blow to some
 
 144 ''LE ROI EST MORT." 
 
 amongst us, who had hoped that the leaven working through 
 the land would have acted differently. But at least 
 if disappointed, we knew now what to expect. Such a 
 Parliament as ours would be little better than a tool in 
 the hand of a tyrant monarch. Some small protection it 
 might be against the encroachments of arbitrary power, 
 but so small that it was better to hope nothing from it. 
 
 I must not close this chapter (which I fear has been 
 but a dull one ; only these things have to be made some- 
 thing clear, or what follows cannot well be understood) 
 without some mention of a piece of work going on within 
 the walls of Miss Blake's establishment, which was destined 
 to bring Taunton almost as much fame as anything that 
 happened within its environs during the stirring days to 
 come. 
 
 I had noted that immediately upon the death of the 
 King, whenever I had gone to read to the ladies in the 
 parlour, they were deeply engrossed upon some large 
 pieces of silken embroidery work, something different from 
 anything I had seen in their hands before. 
 
 Mistress Mary's was on a large and more gorgeous scale 
 than those of the others, and it was always the same; whilst 
 Miss Blake's and Mrs. Musgrave's varied continually, as 
 they seemed to be putting in the outlines of a pattern 
 which other hands would fill up. 
 
 But Mistress Mary's steadily grew and grew, and al- 
 though always carefully covered up, yet revealed much 
 gold and crimson raised work, and altogether began to 
 have such a wonderfully gorgeous effect that I could not
 
 «Z^ ROI EST MORT." 145 
 
 keep my eyes from straying to it again and again as I sat 
 and talked. Busy as she was, I saw that she noted these 
 glances, and one day just before I was about to leave she 
 gave me one of her rare sweet smiles, and said, — 
 
 " Come, Dicon, thou needst not eat thine heart out in 
 curiosity. I have good reason to know that thou art to 
 be trusted. I will show thee my work." A flush mantled 
 her face as she unpinned and unfolded it, and she added, 
 with a sudden light in her eyes, " It is a banner for my 
 Lord of Monmouth, when kind Providence sends him 
 hither as our deliverer." 
 
 Then she displayed before my eyes the gorgeous golden- 
 worked banner, and I saw that the raised letters surmounted 
 by a crown were none other than these of momentous 
 meaning — J.R. 
 
 Nor could I doubt for a moment that their meaning 
 was " Jacobus Rex." 
 
 (511) 10
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE MUTTERING OF THE STORM. 
 
 THERE was a sense of mystery in the air. Life seemed 
 to be flowing in its accustomed channels and with 
 its wonted smoothness ; but yet there was an under-current 
 of excitement and unrest which surged through everything 
 and kept every heart beating with expectancy, every ear 
 alert to catch the first breath of rumour, every eye eagerly 
 scanning the faces even of the passer-by in the street, lest 
 haply he might be the bearer of those tidings which some 
 of us longed and some of us feared to hear. 
 
 Taunton appeared quiet and peaceable. Mr. Bernard 
 Smith, our Mayor, a man of some force of character, some 
 cruelty of nature, and of known loyalty to the reigning 
 sovereign, kept a close watch upon us, and let it be very 
 clearly understood that upon the smallest indication of 
 disturbance he should call in the train-bands and keep 
 order by strong methods. He was seconded in his good 
 intentions by the influence of the country gentlemen round. 
 Sir William Portman often appeared in the city, and 
 stayed for a few nights in his fine old timbered house, 
 Avith its many gables, that is still the pride of Taunton
 
 THE MUTTERING OF THE STORM. 147 
 
 amongst those who are learned in the matter of domestic 
 architecture. He frequently appeared in the streets, and 
 when occasion served spoke to the people in such a way 
 as to encourage them to maintain tranquillity and avoid 
 giving cause of offence. Lord Lonsdale and Sir Kalph 
 Bridges followed his example, and were often to be seen in 
 the city, forward to impart to us any items of news from 
 London likely to be acceptable in our ears, and striving 
 to rid our minds of some of the many convictions which 
 recent events had stamped upon them, and especially of 
 that most favourite one — namely, that King Charles had 
 met his death by poison, and that this poison had been 
 administered by the hand of his brother. 
 
 But there are some impressions quickly made upon the 
 minds of men which no after labour will efface. We had 
 heard from trusty men of our own party of the black 
 spots which had appeared upon the King's body, of the 
 agonies of pain which had convulsed him, of the sleepless 
 attendance of his dark brother at his bedside, and we 
 thought we knew better than our Mayor or our nobles. 
 So though we listened in respectful silence to their words, 
 our hearts remained unconvinced. 
 
 We hated the Duke of York (for there were some who 
 would not speak of him as the King save where prudence 
 compelled) with a deadly hatred, and prayed day and night 
 for deliverance from his malevolent power. 
 
 Now as for my own private concerns at this time, I may 
 speak once again of those rides taken in attendance upon 
 the two Mistresses Mary, vrhich began after the inclement
 
 148 THE MUTTERING OF THE STORM. 
 
 winter had passed, and were continued until the great 
 commotion commenced of which I am about to write. 
 
 These rides were a source of the greatest pleasure and 
 satisfaction to all concerned ; for by means of them the 
 Viscount was able to prosecute his wooing of gentle Mistress 
 Mary, and we were no longer reduced to the more risky 
 if more romantic method of the balcony meetings. 
 
 It was easy for me to let my Lord Vere know when and 
 whither we were to ride forth. He was backwards and 
 forwards between Court House and Taunton many times 
 in the week, like most of the gentry round, and I would 
 make shift to give him the news he wanted. Then upon 
 our next ride, when we were deep in some woodland dell 
 or away across some lonely bit of breezy moorland, the 
 Viscount would ride up, saluting the ladies, and before 
 long the younger Mistress Mary would rein back her steed 
 and join me, leaving the lovers to pace on in front side by 
 side, in the loneliness so dear to all in like case. 
 
 Mistress Mary Bridges, albeit but a maid of twelve 
 summers, was wondrous full of life and spirit and imagina- 
 tion. She would talk to me in a fashion which made me 
 marvel at her high courage and dauntless nature ; and 
 openly did she lament that she was not a man, so that she 
 might bear a man's part in the struggle which she fully 
 believed was coming. 
 
 She came of a family loyal to the Court party and to 
 the reigning sovereign ; yet she had heard so much of the 
 other side from her mistresses and comrades in the school, 
 that she might be said scarce to hold either with one party
 
 THE MUTTERING OF THE STORM. 149 
 
 or the other, and in truth this was what she openly averred 
 to be her case. 
 
 " If I were but a man," she would cry with kindling 
 eyes, " I would have my own good steed and my own good 
 sword, and I would follow no partj^ but always fight on 
 the side of right and virtue. I would gather about me a 
 band of followers, as did bold Robin Hood of old, and I 
 would be the champion of truth and liberty and righteous- 
 ness wherever such were to be found. I hate that false 
 and cruel King James, who will stoop to fondle such vile 
 creatures as Jeffreys and Kirke. Yet I love not your 
 Duke of Monmouth, who can keep a crawling knave like 
 Ferguson in his counsels, and who leaves his virtuous wife 
 and seeks happiness with another fair lady. Were I a 
 man I would follow neither, but be a free lance for the 
 cause of right and liberty ! " And the little lady would 
 toss back her ringlets, whilst her face would flush and 
 kindle till I would regard her with admiration akin to 
 awe, and think that a man might well follow such a leader 
 to the death. 
 
 But with all her high spirit and courage, she was deeply 
 interested in the courtship of the Viscount and her dear 
 friend the elder Mistress Mary, and confided to me that 
 such a gallant lover was worthy of the prize he had won, 
 though there were few men she had ever seen of whom she 
 would say as much. 
 
 " And I trow they had best be quick and wed, even if 
 it be done in secret and in haste," she said one day to me, 
 one bright day in the latter part of May — the last ride (as
 
 ISO THE MUTTERING OF THE STORM. 
 
 it turned out, little as we guessed it then) that we were 
 destined to take together ; " for I have heard tell that my 
 Lord Lonsdale is anxious to push on his son's marriage 
 with Mistress Edith Portman with all the speed that may 
 be. He thinks that the alliance would be desirable and 
 strengthening for both houses ; and the lady is more than 
 willing, since the Viscount is the most gallant youth in 
 these parts. That is why Mr. Nicholas Blewer's suit has 
 been favoured by Lord Lonsdale. He is afraid what the 
 beauty of Mary may effect if Lord Vere ever sees her again. 
 He knows nothing of our rides. He believes his son is 
 forgetting her ; but he will not be easy in his mind till one 
 or both are wed. What vile things men are ! " cried the 
 little lady, with that flash in her eyes which betokened her 
 headstrong spirit ; " they think of naught in the world but 
 their own advancement and their selfish ends ! It was told 
 to me, Dicon, by a wise woman, who read my fortune in 
 my hand and in the stars when I was but a tender child, 
 that I should live to slay a man with mine own hands. 
 I trembled when I heard it, and many a time have I lain 
 awake of a night, shivering at the thought ; but I shiver 
 not now. Verily I believe I should rejoice to do such a 
 thing were it in a righteous cause. I would it might be 
 the Rev. Nicholas Blewer ! " and the maid clinched her 
 right hand and shook it towards Taunton, setting her small 
 white teeth with a ferocity which seemed strange in one 
 so young. 
 
 Nor could I greatly marvel at her wrath, for I hated 
 Mr. Blewer as one hates a poisonous and noxious reptile.
 
 THE MUTTERING OF THE STORM. 151 
 
 He was for ever to be seen gliding here and there with his 
 evil smile and stealthy step ; and I was certain that he 
 was playing the spy wherever he had the chance. Well 
 did I know that he came to Miss Blake's as much to seek 
 to learn what was passing there as to court Mistress Mary. 
 That the ladies knew or suspected his motive I could not 
 doubt, since in his presence the silken banners were never 
 brought forth, nor was any word spoken of the matters so 
 near and dear to our hearts. He himself would strive to 
 entrap us by seeking to lead us to pass censure on the 
 King or his officers, but we were all resolved not to be 
 thus ensnared ; and if cold looks and short answers could 
 have driven the creature away, sure Mr. Blewer would have 
 been long since driven from Miss Blake's parlour. He 
 would have been denied entrance there had the good ladies 
 dared to refuse it ; but it was a perilous thing in those 
 days to make an enemy of such a man, and Lord Lonsdale's 
 approval of his courtship made it difficult to exclude him. 
 
 As we rode back into Taunton that day — the Viscount 
 leaving us ere ever we reached even the outskirts of the 
 place, since he was very careful never to permit himself to 
 be seen in our company — we were aware of a subdued 
 tumult going on there. Men and women had gathered at 
 their doors or had come out into the streets. Faces were 
 grave and lowering — the faces, that is, of the towns-folk of 
 our fashion of thinking — and one could see that something 
 had occurred greatly to disturb the minds of men, 
 
 I dared not pause to ask the reason for it. I feared 
 some disaster had befallen our cause ; but my duty to my
 
 152 THE MUTTERING OF THE STORM. 
 
 charges kept me riding close beside them, and, of course, 
 they could not pause to pick up the gossip of the streets, 
 though both must have suspected that something unwonted 
 was afoot. But my curiosity was relieved sooner than I 
 anticipated; for Will Wiseman darted out from a side street 
 at sight of me, and running beside Blackbird at a brisk 
 trot, whispered in my ears the news. 
 
 " They have thrown Mr. Vincent into prison ! " he said. 
 Now Mr. Vincent, as I have before said, was our minister, 
 and a right godly man, beloved of all his flock ; moreover, 
 he was one of those who inculcated maxims of moderation, 
 and patience, and submission to lawful authority — one 
 against whom I am very sure it would be hard to prove 
 either sedition or any other offence. And as I exclaimed 
 in amaze and wrath. Will continued, speaking in the same 
 rapid undertone only just audible through the beat of 
 Blackbird's hoofs, " And they have searched the post-bags 
 here and at Ilminster, and they say that they have found 
 in them enough to hang a score of men in Taunton alone. 
 Dicon, I trow things have gone further than you and I 
 know. The Mayor and Mr. Axe and the gentry have been 
 closeted together this hour and more. Heaven send we be 
 not undone ! I would give my right hand to know what 
 they have discovered ! " 
 
 " I will meet thee anon and hear all I can learn ! " I 
 answered in great excitement ; " but let me first home with 
 the ladies. I warrant that Mr. Blewer has been at the 
 bottom of Mr. Vincent's arrest. He always hated him with 
 a bitter hatred 1 "
 
 THE MUTTERING OF THE STORM. 153 
 
 A fresh shock of surprise awaited us upon our arrival 
 at the Three Cups ; for there before the door, looking im- 
 patiently up and down the street, stood Sir Ralph Bridges, 
 his horse led up and down by a servant, and several well- 
 stuffed saddle-bags being laid over the shoulder of the 
 man's steed. So soon as he caught sight of the approach 
 of his daughter, he stepped forward and hindered her from 
 alighting, as she was about to do. 
 
 " I have come to take thee home, Mary," he said. " Thy 
 place is with thy mother now. Say an adieu to thy com- 
 panion, and we will get gone. These are no days for thee 
 to be in Taunton." 
 
 Mistress Mary looked quickly into her father's rather 
 stern and preoccupied face as though she would fain have 
 asked more. But it was not for a young daughter to 
 question her father's judgment, and all she did was to ask 
 falteringly, — 
 
 " Shall I not go to and fro, sir, to continue my studies 
 as heretofore ? " 
 
 For in other years during the summer months she had 
 often ridden to and fro into the town, as I think I have 
 said, though until to-day she had remained since Christmas 
 beneath the roof of Miss Blake's house. 
 
 " No, child," he answered shortly, though not unkindly ; 
 "thou wilt remain at home with thy mother. Home is 
 thy place in days such as these." 
 
 And in hearing the Knight speak thus, I was more sure, 
 even than when Will Wiseman had been whispering to me, 
 that some unwonted peril was at hand.
 
 154 THE MUTTERING OF THE STORM. 
 
 I saw that Mistress Mary Mead's eyes had kindled as 
 she heard these words. I read the thought of her heart 
 as well as if it had been spoken in words. The younger 
 Mistress Mary turned and flung her arms about her neck 
 ere she slipped from her palfrey, and I heard her whisper 
 in her friend's ear, — 
 
 " It is coming, Mary, it is coming ! Heaven send that 
 the cause of right and truth may be victorious ! Come 
 what may, nothing shall sever our friendship." 
 
 Sir Ralph had already mounted, and after saluting 
 Mistress Mary Mead with courteous good-will, he set spurs 
 to his horse and went clattering down the Fore Street 
 towards North Street with his daughter beside him. I 
 escorted Mistress Mary to her own door and assisted her 
 to alight, and as I did so she said in trembling accents, 
 though it was not fear that made her voice to shake, — 
 
 " Go, Dicon, and learn the truth of all this, and bring 
 me word to my balcony to-night. My heart tells me that 
 the deliverer is near. There were fear and anxiety upon 
 the face of Sir Ralph ; I am very sure of that. The 
 servants of the tyrant are trembling already. We are 
 thrice armed who know our quarrel just." 
 
 With that she turned and went quickly indoors, leaving 
 me with my heart in a flutter of expectation as I led the 
 palfrey to the stable. Will was already there, unable to 
 keep away, and full of the most intense excitement as to 
 what had just transpired. 
 
 It seemed that Captain William Speke (the only member 
 of the Speke family who took the contrary side from the
 
 THE MUTTERING OF THE STORM. 
 
 155 
 
 master of White Lackington and head of the family) had 
 made a raid on the post-bags at Ihninster — having had 
 notice that suspicious signs had been noted amongst the dis- 
 senters of the Western Counties^and had made discoveries 
 which had caused him to send in all haste to the Mayor 
 to counsel him to do likewise. All the Taunton letters, 
 however, had been delivered save eight ; but one of these 
 eight, addressed to a certain Mr. Cooke, a good friend of 
 ours, had proved of so incriminating a nature that he was 
 at once summoned before the Mayor and magistrates, and 
 obliged to enter into recognizances for a thousand pounds, 
 and find sureties three in number for five hundred each. 
 Mr. Simpson, Mr. Hucker, and Mr. Herring had willingly 
 come forward for this purpose ; and Will told me that 
 they and the Hewlings had gathered in conclave immedi- 
 ately afterwards, and that one of the brothers Hewling 
 had already left the town, though upon what errand he 
 did not know. 
 
 " And what was in the letter ? " I asked eagerly. 
 
 " Marry, that I cannot tell you in full. But this much 
 is in all men's mouths, that it spake of the appearance 
 forthwith in the West of a certain person, and that all 
 the Court party in London are in a most dreadful fear 
 and confusion. It is rumoured, too, that in Scotland the 
 Earl of Argyll is destroying the King's forces right and 
 left. Ah, Dicon, Dicon ! With a Monmouth in the south 
 and an Argyll in the north, what may not be done in 
 the cause of liberty and right ! " 
 
 This was news indeed, and all seemed to confirm it.
 
 156 THE MUTTERING OF THE STORM. 
 
 As Will and I went forth into the streets, we could not 
 but be aware that a great excitement was reigning. The 
 Mayor was hurrying to and fro, and many of his Burgesses 
 with him, seeming scarce to know what he was doing, 
 yet as it were anxious to be everywhere at once to see 
 that the town was quiet. Mr. Axe was likewise walking 
 the streets, but in calmer fashion, and he sought every- 
 where to persuade the people to remain quiet and orderly. 
 The air was full of whispers and rumours. It was confi- 
 dently believed that the Duke was nigh at hand. Some 
 said, indeed, that he had already landed, and perhaps 
 might be seen at any moment at the head of a vast 
 army of loving followers marching to the very heart of 
 Taunton. 
 
 I knew not what to believe of all we heard ; but that 
 more news had reached Taunton than either Will or I 
 knew was more and more evident. We made our way 
 to Mr. Simpson's house, to find Lizzie in a great state of 
 joyful excitement ; for she had heard enough to make her 
 quite confident that the Duke was really coming at last. 
 There had been a collection made of money amongst her 
 father's friends — that she was very certain of ; and one of 
 the brothers Hewling, she was not sure which, had ridden 
 off" with it to the coast, ready to meet the Duke on his 
 landing. 
 
 Thomas Dare had had a letter from his father several 
 days ago, in which he had told his son that there had 
 been some trouble in persuading the Duke to take up 
 arms against his uncle. He had been greatly distressed
 
 THE MUTTERING OF THE STORM. 157 
 
 at hearing of his father's death, and had declared at first 
 that, since things were as they were, he should retire into 
 private life, and seek no more to establish what rights he 
 might justly claim. The Prince of Orange had counselled 
 him in this, and the only question under dispute at first 
 was whether the Duke should or should not seek to win 
 distinction in arms by fighting under the Emperor against 
 the Turks, or whether he should retire to Sweden with 
 Lady Henrietta Wentworth, who had followed liim into 
 exile, and to whom he considered himself married in the 
 sight of God, and live there in honourable banishment. 
 This course of action had been vehemently opposed by 
 Heywood Dare, who represented to him that all the West 
 Country would rise in his favour if he would but show 
 himself there. Money and men would flow in in streams, 
 so Dare declared he had affirmed, and he called upon his 
 son in strong and eloquent language to do whatever in 
 him lay to get together men and money and arms, that 
 when their deliverer should appear he might find there 
 had been no idle boasting on the part of the citizen of 
 Taunton. This letter had been read with closed doors 
 amongst a select few some weeks ago, and Thomas Dare 
 had been already absent from the town almost ever since, 
 beating up recruits, and preparing the heai'ts of friends 
 for what might be expected shortly. All this had been 
 made known to-day to Lizzie by her aunt, and she was 
 as full of the excitement as we were. She told us now 
 fully and freely of the seven-and-twenty banners being 
 worked by the hands of the maidens of the school, and
 
 158 THE MUTTERING OF THE STORM. 
 
 how they hoped to present them in person to the gal- 
 lant young Duke when he should appear in triumph at 
 Taunton, as it was fully believed he would do, and that 
 right quickly. 
 
 How our hearts burned within us as we listened ! We 
 could not keep still, nor remain long in one place. We 
 were out in the streets erelong, eagerly picking up every 
 scrap of news, and finding that rumours were flying about 
 as thick as hail in a summer storm. 
 
 Public indignation was rising hot against the Court and 
 the King. Not only had the arrest of our Mr. Vincent 
 greatly incensed the towns-folk, but there came citizens 
 from Ilminster to tell of the attempted arrest of Mr. 
 John Trenchard at White Lackington House, and how 
 a tumult had been made, and the Sheriffs forced to run 
 without having secured their prisoner. Again and again 
 were old grievances raked up — the scandalous trial of 
 Richard Baxter, not many weeks old ; and the notorious 
 cruelty and tyranny of the King. 
 
 " Heaven will fight for us and for Monmouth ! " men 
 whispered to each other. And indeed I think that it was 
 our hearts that were glad and triumphant, and those of 
 our enemies that were full of fear as the day waned : for 
 the Mayor looked pale and harassed and full of anxiety, 
 I thought; whilst as for Mr. Blewer, he was so hooted in 
 the streets when he showed his ugly face there, that he 
 hastily retired to his lodgings, and we saw him no more. 
 
 " Will," I said, as the sun went down, and we felt so 
 little inclined for sleep that the very idea of bed was a
 
 THE MUTTERING OF THE STORM. 159 
 
 mockery, " what sayest thou to a ride across the moorland 
 to-night by moonshine, and a visit to the witch, to know 
 what she can tell us of what is coining ? Methinks I 
 shall stifle within doors ; but Blackbird and Lady Jane 
 will carry us rarely, and I can loose them, none knowing 
 it, by a little care. Wilt come with me ? " 
 
 Will simply jumped at such a proposal. He was as 
 loath to think of bed as I was, and he could ride a 
 horse barebacked right well — saddle and stirrups were 
 abominable to him. In the excitement and stir about 
 the inn, I had no trouble in getting the horses out after 
 nightfall ; and making excuse of fatigue to my uncle, I 
 stole away as if to bed, but was soon mounted and 
 scudding through the dim lanes by the side of Will, 
 whilst the moon rose higher and higher in the sky, 
 giving us abundant light. The good steeds, delighting 
 in the freshness of the night air, went willingly and 
 easily ; and Blackbird, so soon as we had passed the 
 ridge of the hill and were nearing his old home, became 
 as playful and skittish as a young kitten. 
 
 But it was not homewards that our steps were bent. 
 The farm-house at such an hour would be fast sleeping, 
 and I had no desire to wake up the sleepers. It was 
 Mother Whale I desired to find and consult, and unless 
 she were abroad upon her broomstick, she would like 
 enough be awake at her fireside concocting her spells 
 and potions ; as, indeed, we found to be W\q case. 
 
 Tethering our horses outside, we lifted the latch and 
 M^ent in, the old woman not even turning licr head as
 
 i6o THE MUTTERING OF THE STORM. 
 
 we did so, but speaking our names, as though she had 
 eyes in the back of her head, and by some occult magic 
 knew every person who approached. 
 
 " Good-even, Dicon Snowe, and thou, lad Will. Have a 
 care, Will, lest thou repent thy rashness in tears of blood 
 ere the year be done. What have you come for, boys ? 
 What is your errand here ? There be fine doings at 
 Taunton, and will be finer yet. But beware the evil 
 eye that will overlook it — ay, and thee too. Will, ere 
 this chapter close." 
 
 I do not make any effort in these pages to try to 
 give the soft speech and drawling vowel sounds of our 
 West Country tongue, not having the skill to spell the 
 same word two ways. I can but follow the model given 
 me by the Bible and those works of the great poets I 
 have named, and let those who know the speech of the 
 West figure it for themselves. It takes a greater skill 
 than I possess to set it down here. 
 
 " Mother," I said, " we have come to ask thee to read us 
 that chapter. How will the day turn ? Which Duke 
 will be England's King ? We know that thou canst 
 read the future in the stars, and the cards, and the crystal. 
 Prithee tell us what will betide, and whether the friends 
 or the foes of liberty and religion will triumph." 
 
 It was a bold question ; but I had not come empty- 
 handed, and I slipped the golden guinea Lord Lonsdale 
 had given me into the witch's palm. She looked at it 
 with glistening eyes. Money was dear to the heart of 
 the old woman, and I did not doubt for a moment that
 
 THE MUTTERING OE THE STORM. i6i 
 
 I should get my guinea's worth out of her ; for I verily 
 believed that she read the future as I read the page of 
 an open book. 
 
 She bent over the pot, crooning to herself, and seeming 
 to take no heed of us ; but I silenced Will's exclamation 
 of impatience by a warning sign, for I knew the old 
 woman and her ways, and that nothing was to be gained 
 by trying to hurry her. 
 
 At last the great black cat beside the fire jumped upon 
 her shoulder and seemed to whisper in her ear. I confess 
 that a tremor ran through me, for I verily believed that 
 her familiar was speaking to her, and that we were in 
 the presence of some satanic agency. 
 
 A minute or two later she threw her arms above her 
 head, and began to speak in detached sentences, filling 
 up the pauses by a strange crooning chant, wordless and 
 unintelligible. 
 
 "Blood will be shed — much blood but the glory 
 
 will come first A King will rise and a King will fall 
 
 And blood shall run freely, ay, even as from a 
 
 slaughter-house. Heads shall be lifted up Oh, they 
 
 shall be raised on high for all the world to see! A 
 
 brave show, truly ! A brave young King And he who 
 
 now sits upon the throne shall die in exile and disgrace." 
 
 That was enough for us. We had heard just the 
 answer we wanted, and the old woman lapsed into a 
 silence which no questions served to break, so we bade 
 her good-even, and went forth again into the night. 
 
 " The King will die in exile ! Dicon, if she be a true 
 
 (511) 11
 
 i62 THE MUTTERING OF THE STORM. 
 
 witch, we are to see good days yet," cried Will, dancing in 
 the moonlight like a wild thing. " Blood and glory, and 
 the rise and fall of Kings ! Ah, heaven be praised that I 
 live in such goodly days ! Dicon, Dicon, let us raise a 
 shout for King Monmouth. Hurrah for the good cause 
 and the King ! God save him and us all ! "
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 MV RIDE TO LYME. 
 
 I RETURNED to find my uncle not a little disturbed 
 in mind. 
 
 The Mayor had summoned the Burgesses to meet him in 
 council upon the morning following my visit to the witch ; 
 and my uncle looked harassed and anxious upon his return, 
 and paced moodily up and down the passage — a thing 
 most unusual with him — whilst his jovial face looked more 
 perturbed than I had ever seen it before. My good aunt 
 regarded him with troubled eyes, wondering if evil had 
 befallen him; and Meg anxiously whispered in mine ear, 
 asking if I knew what was amiss. But though I knew 
 that all the town was in a fever of excitement and ex- 
 pectation, and that it was confidently supposed that the 
 landing of the Duke was near, I did not know why my 
 uncle should be more disturbed than other men, nor why 
 his anxiety and fear should be greater. 
 
 Towards noon there was a great commotion in the 
 streets, and we heard the tread of marching footsteps and 
 the sound of horse-hoofs on the hard road between the 
 houses. Rushing out in great excitement, willing to be-
 
 1 64 MY RIDE TO LYME. 
 
 lieve that the Duke was actually entering the town, I was 
 in time to see several companies of the militia, in their gay 
 uniforms with red and yellow facings, marching towards 
 the Cornhill, followed by one company of horse. But, alas ! 
 it was plain to see that they were not only not led by 
 the Duke, our expected deliverer, but that they had been 
 brought in to overawe us and keep order in the town, 
 and prevent us from rising in the cause of the deliverer 
 when he should appear. They were led by gentlemen of 
 known loyalty, and behind the horsemen rode Viscount 
 Vere in all the bravery of a semi-military dress. But I 
 noted that his face wore a clouded expression, and there 
 were stern lines about his mouth that I had not seen 
 there before. He rode between his father and one of the 
 Portman family ; but I observed that he spoke to neither, 
 and that he wore an air of aloofness and offence that was 
 rather strange to see. 
 
 " Uncle, the train-bands have come into the town ! " I 
 cried in great excitement, rushing back into the inn. 
 " Didst thou know they were to be called out ? " 
 
 ■■' Ay, boy, I knew it," he answered, the cloud still hang- 
 ing heavy on his brow ; and then, we being alone together 
 for the nonce, he spoke with more freedom and openness 
 than he had ever shown to me before. " I tell thee, Dicon, 
 I am in a great strait what to think and how to act. I 
 would fain keep out of this struggle and strife. What am 
 I to judge betwixt prince and prince ? When the great 
 and learned of the land are at variance, and know not the 
 truth of the matter, how can a simple man who has never
 
 MY RIDE TO LYME. 165 
 
 meddled with high things come to a knowledge of the 
 truth ? I would have none of it could I help it. But the 
 plague of such times is that men will not let you be. 
 Here is our Mayor on one side reproaching me with being 
 a dissenter, and lukewarm in the cause of the King — a 
 matter like to get me into trouble by-and-by should ill 
 befall this expedition of which all men speak ; whilst those 
 of the Duke's side trust me not, and fall into a sudden 
 silence at sight of me. And should he win the day, none 
 will have a good word for me with him, nor say that I was 
 forward in his cause. I am like to get nothing but ill- 
 will from both sides, and all because I would fain manage 
 my own affairs and leave those of the nation alone. It is 
 a hard thing that a man should be so ill thought of simply 
 for attending to his own business, and meddling not with 
 matters too hard for him." 
 
 Sooth to say, and put in that fashion, the case did seem 
 hard. But mine uncle was something in the position of 
 the ass in the fable with the two bundles of hay. He 
 had been striving all this while to eat of both, and yet 
 to make choice of neither ; and the consequence was that 
 he was now in the position of one not trusted by either 
 party, and not prepared to throw in his lot decidedly 
 with either. By training and choice he was a dissenter, 
 and would gladly have welcomed the Duke of Monmouth 
 as England's King. But he was a long-headed and far- 
 sighted man, and did not think that the power of the 
 reigning sovereign would be as easily overturned as his 
 townsmen fancied, wherefore he was fearful of allying him-
 
 1 66 AfV RIDE TO LYME. 
 
 self with them in their designs. He would fain have 
 rested strictly neutral, and that indeed was his purpose ; 
 but it was more difficult each day to avoid making open 
 declaration on one side or the other, and he began to see 
 that if the Duke really landed and marched to the town, it 
 would be increasingly hard to stand aloof from both parties. 
 
 " If only I knew which way the day would turn ! " he 
 said, pacing restlessly up and down. " I tell thee, boy, I 
 would serve the Duke, and be glad to do so ; but I am not 
 ready to be ruined for such as he. My business and my 
 goods are more to me than all these questions of kingship 
 and policy. I love not black King James, and I know we 
 may suffer under his sway ; but how do we know that we 
 should do better under another ? And civil war is a more 
 terrible ill and calamity than a little tyranny and a few 
 unjust imposts. Let well alone, say I ; and nothing very 
 bad has followed King James's accession. I like not the 
 thought of stirring up strife. Yet if strife must come, I 
 would fain be found on the right side^ — if I could but 
 know which that was ! " 
 
 And by the right side my uncle meant the victorious 
 one, as I very well knew. 
 
 Well, it is not of such stuff that heroes and patriots are 
 made. But then my worthy uncle never professed to be 
 either ; and a man who has toiled and laboured to get a 
 good business together, and to stand well with those around 
 him, has many excuses for feeling loath to see all swept 
 away for what may seem to him a fantasy or a dream. I 
 could scarce wonder at his words, though I was all for
 
 MY RIDE TO L YME. 167 
 
 fighting and dying in a noble cause, and was glad that 
 Heaven had not made of me a man of substance, who 
 feared the loss of goods more than the grinding heel of a 
 tyrant usurper. I could afford to feel pity for my uncle's 
 perplexities. I was sorry for him, and longed to be able 
 to relieve him. 
 
 " If I did but know more of the feeling of the country ! " 
 he said. " I hear such contrary reports. Our Mayor tells 
 me that it is but just in a few places here and there in the 
 land that men are for the Duke, and that the nation at 
 large will have none of him ; whilst others say they have 
 full information that the widespread discontent is ready 
 everywhere to burst into a flame, and if the Duke do but 
 land he may march straight to Whitehall if he will, and 
 by the time he reaches it, will have all the nation and all 
 London at his back. If that indeed were so — " 
 
 " Uncle ! " I cried, struck by a sudden inspiration, " let 
 me fare forth on Blackbird, and reap what news I can as I 
 go, and bring thee word again. Let me to the coast, where 
 the Duke, they say, will shortly land, if he be not landed 
 already ; and as I go let me ask news of all men — how 
 things are going all over the country, and Avhat men are 
 saying, and what is doing. I am but a lad. I shall not 
 rouse suspicion, and Blackbird knows not how to tire. Let 
 me go, and I will bring thee word again, or ever the Duke 
 appear, how the chances of the day seem like to go. I 
 will talk with men of every degree. Sure I shall gain 
 information worth the having ! " 
 
 Now this plan, so congenial to my restlessness and ex-
 
 1 68 MV RIDE TO LYME. 
 
 citement, took the fancy of my uncle ; and he forthwith 
 slapped me on the shoulder, and said I was a smart lad 
 and a credit to the family, hunchback or no hunchback. 
 And then he took money from his purse and gave it me, 
 and bid me see well to Blackbird, and make a start upon 
 the following morning, the day being now drawing to its 
 close. He was pleased to think of any plan that might 
 relieve him in some sort of his anxieties. He could re- 
 main for some days longer w^ithout committing himself to 
 either party, and perchance I might reap information for 
 him which should decide him whether or not openly to 
 embrace the cause of the Duke, towards which his private 
 leanings were. 
 
 It was reported that several persons had already left 
 Taunton, and it was shrewdly suspected that they were 
 going forth with the prospect of meeting the Duke. 
 When I went to Master Simpson's shop that evening to 
 tell Will Wiseman of my plan, I heard the Master Hucker 
 had gone, and young Dare, and that he believed his own 
 master would not be long in following. 
 
 Will did not know whether any place of landing had 
 been yet settled, but he had heard a whisper of Lyme 
 more than once ; and it seemed a likely place, being far 
 smaller and less like to be watched than Weymouth, and 
 much nearer to Taunton, which had the glorious reputa- 
 tion of being the city most in earnest in its loyal attach- 
 ment to the noble Protestant cause. 
 
 Lizzie came and joined us, and said she was certain her 
 father meditated a speedy journey ; and hearing that I too
 
 MY RIDE TO LYME. 169 
 
 was bound for the coast, she became greatly excited, bid 
 me strive to be amongst the first to welcome the gracious 
 and noble Duke, and finally took a ribbon from her neck, 
 and fashioned it into a rosette for my hat. Lizzie and I, 
 I must explain, had for many a day made a pretence of 
 being lovers, and I now felt like a knig^ht goinof forth on 
 his first feat of arms ; so it seemed right and fitting that 
 his lady-love should thus adorn him by her token, as 
 Lizzie had decorated me. 
 
 With the first light of the morrow Blackbird and I rode 
 out of Taunton, Will Wiseman trotting beside us for the 
 first mile of our journey, and only wishing that he could 
 be my companion all along. 
 
 Glad enough would I have been of his company, but 
 I was not altogether sorry that this could not be. Will 
 had a vein of rashness and daring about him that was 
 lacking in me, despite all my brave imaginings ; and on 
 the mission upon which I was bent, discretion was needed 
 almost as much as valour. 
 
 I resolved to ride leisurely to Ilminster this first day, 
 which was the first day of June 1685. I should learn 
 from my aunt and her friends what was the feeling in 
 that city. And I meant to join company with all of my 
 own degree, or those inferior to me, upon the road, and 
 glean from them all the news that I could. 
 
 In particular I was minded to question all those who 
 came from the Devonshire border. For we knew that the 
 Duke of Albemarle, who was the King's deputy-lieutenant 
 of that county, and his very loyal general, was at Exeter
 
 lyo MY RIDE TO LYME. 
 
 with a fine body of train-bands and other troops, and it 
 was of importance to us of Taunton to know whether he 
 proposed to move out from that city in our direction. 
 One traveller whom I encountered at a cross-road, and 
 who lingered awhile to talk with me, declared his be- 
 lief that if the Duke were to lead his forces against the 
 person of the Duke of Monmouth, and his men were to see 
 that loved face in the opposite ranks, they would all go 
 over as one man to join him ; and that the Duke of 
 Albemarle most likely knew something of the temper of 
 his soldiers, and would be very careful how he brought 
 them into action against the Duke of Monmouth. They 
 did very well for keeping the town and district quiet ; but 
 he did not believe they would ever take the field against 
 the champion of the Protestant religion, and against one 
 they persisted in looking upon as their late King's lawful 
 son. 
 
 This was excellent news, and sent me on my way glad 
 at heart. If this indeed was the temper of the soldiers 
 against whom the Duke might have to fight, his march 
 would speedily become the triumphal progress his friends 
 had foretold. 
 
 Shortly after I had parted from this traveller with 
 expressions of mutual good-will, I heard upon the road 
 behind me the beat of approaching horse-hoofs. Plainly 
 the rider was either in some considerable haste, or labour- 
 ing under the stress of hot emotion, for he was galloping 
 at a great pace. I pulled on one side of the narrow track 
 which we called a road, and which at this time of year
 
 MY RIDE TO LYME. 171 
 
 was passable enough, and turned in my saddle to look at 
 him, when, lo and behold, as he approached I saw that it 
 was none other than my young lord Viscount Vere. 
 
 Great was my surprise to see him riding thus alone and 
 in haste, and with that same clouded look upon his face 
 which I had noted yesterday ; and yet more surprised was 
 I to learn, a few minutes later, what had brought him here. 
 On seeing me he drew rein, and a smile broke over his face 
 which was like a ray of sunshine breaking through storm- 
 clouds, and he gave my shoulder a friendly pat, crying out, — 
 
 " Ha, Dicon man, well met ! And whither art tliou 
 away ? Are we travelling the same road ? If so, let us 
 join forces. I am tired of my own company and my own 
 black thoughts. Tell me whither thou art bound, and 
 what is thine errand." 
 
 I told him -all, and he listened to the story of my uncle's 
 perplexities with his gay smile of amusement ; but when I 
 had finished he gave me a glance of a different sort, and 
 said, — 
 
 " Canst guess whither I am bound, good Dicon ? " 
 
 I shook my head, for I had been wondering all the 
 while whither he could be going at such a time, when the 
 gentry were all gathered about the city to strive to keep 
 the peace. 
 
 " Marry, to join company with the Duke of Monmouth 
 when he lands ! " cried the Viscount, with a quick flash of 
 the eyes such as bespoke a mind much disturbed. And 
 upon my uttering an exclamation of surprise, he broke 
 forth with much heat of manner, —
 
 172 MY RIDE TO LYME. 
 
 " Ay, they have driven me to it ! They have driven me 
 to it with their plots and plans and projects ! There is 
 but one way of cutting the knot, and cut it I will at all 
 hazard ! My Mary's blessing and sweet approval go with 
 me and rest upon me ! I have done with the old life. 
 The new may be what it will, but Mary and Mary's weal 
 are bound up in it, and therefore I fare forth fearlessly. 
 When I return I make her my wife, be the issue of this 
 venture what it may. I saw her last night, and had speech 
 of her ; and I care for nothing now, so as I win and hold 
 her love. What is the evil black tyrant James to me that 
 I waste in his cause my youth and my strength, and lose 
 the lady of my choice ? Rightful monarch he may be, but 
 a vile creature, unworthy the name of King ! I will none 
 of him ! I will none of them and their machinations ! 
 Henceforth I am my own man, and I win Mary, or perish 
 in the attempt ! " 
 
 It took me some time to learn from this excited outburst 
 the truth of the whole matter, but bit by bit I made it 
 out. Nor could I wonder at the way in which the young 
 man, badgered and beset, had cut the knot of his difficulties 
 and perplexities. It seems that some treacherous spy had 
 reported to Lord Lonsdale that the Viscount had been seen 
 riding with Mistress Mary Mead in lover-like fashion ; 
 that this had so alarmed and angered him that he and his 
 friends had forthwith put their heads together ; and when 
 Sir William Portman returned from London a few days 
 back, after having been there for the opening of the Parlia- 
 ment, of which mention has been made, he brought back
 
 MY RIDE TO LYME. 173 
 
 with him the marriage contract, duly drawn up, for an 
 alliance between his daughter and Viscount Vere, and ever 
 since the young man had had no peace because this con- 
 tract must be signed, and the marriage celebrated with what 
 speed the times would allow. 
 
 Now it is not in my young lord's nature to be brutal ; 
 and the lady was as willing and eager for so fair a hus- 
 band as he was reluctant to have her. To his father he 
 had spoken roundly, but had been treated in a high-handed 
 fashion, as thougli he were but a refractory boy, and must 
 be reduced to obedience. Yet this is not the treatment 
 which can succeed with natures like my lord the Viscount's, 
 and he had been put into a great heat and anger. Last 
 evening there had been a banquet at Sir William's house 
 in Taunton, and he had been one of the guests. At the 
 board open allusion had been made to the approaching 
 nuptials of the Viscount with Mistress Edith, whose briglit 
 eyes gave ready and eager response to the good wishes and 
 gratulations of her friends. Nor could the gentle and 
 chivalrous young lord speak open despite to the lady 
 before her kinsfolk, and do insult to her and to his man- 
 hood. But his blood had boiled within him at the intoler- 
 able position in which he had been placed ; for he had 
 believed beforehand that the banquet was for the officers 
 of the train-bands and the gentlemen who had come into 
 the city to help to maintain order, else he never would 
 have gone. 
 
 Being thus trapped, and as it were committed to a 
 match to which he never could consent, there seemed to
 
 174 MY RIDE TO LYME. 
 
 him but one way out of the difficulty, and that was one to 
 which his reckless, defiant mood inclined him, as well as the 
 knowledge that it would be of all others the measure most 
 likely to be approved by his own true lady. He knew 
 that, let him once be accounted as a rebel, the prudent Sir 
 William would none of him for a husband for his daughter ; 
 whilst Mary would regard him the more tenderly for all 
 he might lose or suffer in the good cause. Disgusted by 
 the treachery, chicanery, and avarice of the reigning King, 
 eager after the excitements and the glory of warfare, and 
 keenly moved by the expected approach of one who was 
 looked upon in so many quarters as the deliverer of his 
 country, it was small wonder that the Viscount had flung 
 prudence to the winds, and had resolved to fling in his lot 
 with the Duke who was about to come to the help of the 
 perplexed nation. I had no difficulty at all in understand- 
 ing and sympathizing with the step ; my only regret was 
 that he came alone, and not with a gay and gallant fol- 
 lowing such as beseemed his rank and station. 
 
 But he smiled a little grimly as I spoke of this. 
 
 " Nay, Dicon lad," he said, " if I be walking into the 
 lion's jaws, I will e'en walk thither alone, and not bring a 
 luckless following of poor knaves after me. Heaven alone 
 knows what the issue of this day's work will be ; but all 
 that I have heard on this vexed question tends to the 
 belief that England will not have your Duke for King, like 
 she her present monarch never so little ! If that be so, 
 there will be lives lost and heads will fall — it may be mine 
 amono^st others. But no other man shall lose his life
 
 MV RIDE TO LYME. 
 
 175 
 
 through fault of mine. I might have brought a score, 
 perhaps a hundred gallant followers into the field, but I 
 would not tempt one to what may be his doom. Let each 
 man choose his own lot in the struggle. I have chosen 
 mine, but I will be answerable for none other besides." 
 
 This speech was not a very blithe one, and showed me 
 well that the Viscount had more fears than hopes for the 
 issue of the contest. Yet having once joined with us, I 
 knew he would never turn back ; and I thought that a 
 few more such gallant leaders as he might turn the for- 
 tunes of any campaign. 
 
 We spent that day in company, my lord and I. At the 
 inn where we baited our horses and refreshed ourselves I 
 passed as his servant, and we both, in different capacities, 
 gleaned all we could from those we met. My lord told me 
 afterwards that he saw small indication of any eagerness 
 on the part of the gentry to flock to the welcome of the 
 Duke when he should appear. They were all for maintain- 
 ing law and order and the tranquillity of the districts in 
 which they lived ; but I, on the other hand, heard from 
 the common people of a great joy and gladness in the 
 thought of the coming arrival, and everywhere it was 
 whispered that the soldiers would desert to his standard 
 almost to a man, whilst every rustic or shopkeeper in 
 country or town would raise a shout for King Monmouth, 
 and fight for him through thick and thin. 
 
 Wherefore I was more hopeful than my lord of the 
 issue of the contest, and he listened to me with a smile, 
 and said, —
 
 176 MY RIDE TO LYME. 
 
 " Ay, ay, good Dicon, believe all thou hearest, and keep 
 up a good heart ; there is nothing like it for making brave 
 soldiers at a pinch. Thinking the day won beforehand 
 sometimes proves the best way of winning it at the last." 
 
 But I could see that my lord did not think it won yet. 
 
 At Ilminster I persuaded him to accept, for one night 
 at least, the humble hospitality of my aunt's roof. He 
 smilingly thanked me and accepted, for he was always of 
 a gentle and affable nature towards his inferiors. Great 
 was the joy of my good aunt, Mrs. Betsy Harwell, when 
 we rode up to her door and I asked her good ojSices not 
 only for myself, but for my lord the Viscount, whose gallant 
 air, brave raiment, and nodding plumes entirely captivated 
 her from the first moment, and made her eager to put her 
 whole house at his disposal. 
 
 However, he had no following, as he explained to her; 
 and for himself, he asked permission to join us at the 
 board. This was not what my aunt would have chosen, 
 since she would have loved to serve him herself almost on 
 bended knee, I think ; but he was allowed his own way 
 when he asked it with such graceful courtesy. We were 
 soon seated together at such a supper-table as methinks can 
 only be found in the hospitable West Country ; and my lord 
 was paying his attention to our hostess, and making her 
 beam and almost blush for pleasure at being so addressed 
 by a lord, and such a handsome and dashing one to boot ; 
 whilst I did ample justice to the noble repast, and felt 
 proud of my kinswoman and of the manner in which she 
 had been able to receive us.
 
 MY RIDE TO LYME. 177 
 
 My lord acceded to her desire that he would remain 
 with her as long as business kept him at Ilminster ; and 
 he stayed two nights beneath her roof, winning golden 
 opinions from all who saw him, and leaving us quite 
 sorrowful upon his departure. 
 
 I did not accompany him for two reasons : one being that 
 he did not ask me, and I feared to force myself upon him 
 against his will ; another, that my aunt was resolved to 
 keep me yet a few days longer. And as I was every day 
 suffered to ride far afield and to pick up all sorts of odd 
 but useful bits of information, I was the more willing to 
 do so. It was quite plain that the Duke could not yet 
 have landed, at any rate upon this coast, or we should 
 have known it of a certainty ere now. I was anxious to 
 be there to witness his landing when it did take place ; but 
 I could not well refuse my aunt's request, and so I lingered 
 nigh upon a week at her house, pleasantly assured that 
 Ilminster was loyal to the good cause, although perhaps 
 not quite so fervent and warm as the city of Taunton. 
 
 My next halt was at Chard, whither my aunt had sent 
 me with a note to a trusty friend of her own, who gave me 
 lodging for two nights, and put me in the way of obtaining 
 all such information as I desired. I could feel the growing 
 excitement of the people, and I hoped that the Duke 
 would not tarry much longer. Men are apt to grow faint- 
 hearted or cold if disappointment and delay fall upon their 
 first ardent longings. It was now nigh upon fourteen days 
 that we had been expecting tidings of the landing of the 
 Duke, and still he came not. 
 
 (511) 12
 
 lyS MY RIDE TO LYME. 
 
 Axminster was my next halting-place, and here I found 
 the temper of the people very hot and eager. There was 
 an Independent chapel there of some importance, and a 
 martial minister, whose name I cannot recall, who was 
 fervent in the cause of the Duke, and who had given out 
 that he himself would lead forth the men of his flock to 
 join the standard of liberty when it should be set up, and 
 that he would fight to the last drop of his blood in the 
 righteous cause. I heard here, too, all the old stories about 
 the poisoning of the King, and the manifold crimes laid to 
 the charge of James now on the throne. The mind of the 
 people was inflamed against the sovereign almost more 
 hotly than I had seen it yet out of Taunton. 
 
 One gentleman was known to have store of arms and 
 ammunition in his house, and it was whispered that upon 
 certain news arriving of the landing of the Duke, he would 
 arm his sons and his household forthwith, and any able- 
 bodied men who should desire it, so long as his stores held 
 out ; and that he would then march at the head of this 
 band, and tender his and their services to his Grace. 
 
 I was fast catching the infection of hot partisan spirit, 
 and feeling more and more certain of the righteousness of 
 our cause and the certainty of ultimate success. There is 
 a strong impression in the minds of all communities that 
 if the mass of the nation are in favour of a cause, that 
 cause will ultimately triumph. I have seen the growth of 
 this conviction during my long life, and I trow that those 
 who come after will see its further development. Whether 
 for good or for ill it is not for me to say, but the people
 
 MY RIDE TO LYME. 179 
 
 begin to whisper that the power is theirs, and that the 
 voice of the people is the voice of God. It was not put so 
 in the days of which I now speak, but the citizens would 
 lay their heads together and boldly say that they had 
 triumphed over kings before in a righteous cause, and they 
 would triumph again. I listened, and I believed them, and 
 sometimes felt as though the day were well-nigh won. 
 
 And in this mood, on one bright evening in June, I 
 found myself riding into the pretty little sea-board town 
 of Lyme.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 OUR DELIVERER. 
 
 I HAD seldom been so near the sea as I was now ap- 
 proaching, and for a moment the boundlessness of 
 the horizon, the sweep of sky and sea, the outline of coast, 
 and the tranquil beauty of the summer's afternoon, filled 
 my senses and drew my thoughts temporarily away from 
 the more personal and exciting matters upon which they 
 had dwelt so long. 
 
 But as I sat Blackbird on the brow of the green emi- 
 nence which overlooked Lyme, and saw the little town 
 nestling as it were beside the blue sea, groups of trees 
 giving beauty and variety to its aspect, and the brooding 
 peace of a cloudless summer's day seeming to rest upon it, 
 I became aware of a small stir behind me, and turning my 
 head saw that a party of some twenty rustics, with flushed 
 faces and damp brows, had come swinging up from below ; 
 and as soon as they were within speaking distance the 
 foremost called out to me, asking me, in the broadest and 
 softest of Dorset drawl, whether I could tell him where 
 the Duke was to be found. 
 
 " Us have heard that he's coomed," he explained,
 
 OUR DELIVERER. 
 
 i»i 
 
 wiping his brow, and shifting to the other shoulder the 
 great scythe he carried. Five of his companions carried 
 scythes, and three or four sickles, whilst the rest had a 
 miscellaneous assortment of weapons such as bill-hooks and 
 picks. One had an ancient carbine, which looked better 
 able to slay the person who fired it than any other ; and 
 a tall lad, with the face of one whose wits were not all 
 under command, brandished with an air of fierce triumph 
 the broken remnant of what had once been a sword. 
 
 " They du tell we that he's coom, and us be going tu 
 join him," panted the first speaker as the rest came up. 
 " Happen thee may be able tu put us in the way of finding 
 him. Thee be bound on the same errand, I take it, young 
 master." 
 
 " As for that, I have come to seek the Duke," I answered, 
 forgetting all else now in the excitement of the news just 
 imparted ; " but I knew not that he had yet landed, nor 
 where. What dost thou know of it, good fellow ? " 
 
 " Us heerd tell as he'd landed at Lyme. Us have come 
 out to fight for un," was all the answer I could get ; and 
 being unable to extract more, and consumed with curi- 
 osity to know more of the matter, I wished them a good 
 journej^ and set spurs to Blackbird, heading straight down 
 the slope of the down and towards Lyme. 
 
 I saw in the bay there two or three white-sailed vessels, 
 and this in itself seemed to give weight to what the men 
 had said. Those white-winged messengers might have 
 brought our deliverer to us; and with ever -increasing 
 excitement and eagerness I drew near to tlie place, and
 
 1 82 OUR DELIVERER. 
 
 was more and more certain that rumour had this time not 
 played me false, but that some unwonted commotion was 
 on foot. 
 
 I passed numbers of groups of rustics more or less like 
 my first friends, all hastening in one direction ; and the 
 question on all lips was not whether the Duke had come, 
 but where he was to be found. That in itself was sig- 
 nificant, and seemed to show that something had really 
 happened to awake such certainty in the minds of the 
 people ; and very soon this certainty was confirmed by a 
 strange and goodly sight which presently burst upon my 
 eyes. 
 
 Just to the east of the town, and hard by the church 
 which raised its square tower heavenwards, was a wide 
 expanse of greensward which went by the name of Church 
 Clifi". Men tell me that since those days a part of this 
 same clifiE" has slipped into the sea, and that more is like 
 to follow. Be that as it may, when I saw it, many long 
 years ago now, it was a pleasant green plateau, spacious 
 and convenient for the assembly of a multitude of persons ; 
 and to-day it presented an aspect which I trow it has 
 never done before, and never will again— particularly if it 
 is like to be engulfed by the hungry waves ! 
 
 On a small eminence nigh to the church, but not too 
 near for convenience, fluttered in the light summer breeze 
 a banner or standard — for I am not learned in the right 
 names of these thino^s. All I know was that it was 
 planted upon a tall halberd, and floated in the breeze with 
 a gentle swaying motion. Even from a distance I could
 
 OUR DELIVERER. 183 
 
 see that there were letters emblazoned upon it ; but only 
 later on, when I was able to come anigh it, was I able to 
 read the device, which ran as follows : " Fro 'Relicjione et 
 Libertate." The meaning of that (as I had occasion to 
 explain to many an unlettered hind ere the day closed) 
 was, " for religion and liberty," those two precious gifts to 
 men which the rule of the present monarch so greatly 
 imperilled. 
 
 But the standard was not the only thing that took the 
 eye of the spectator. The field was gay with gathering 
 crowds of people of all degrees. Hard by the standard 
 stood a group of gentlemen, as I could see by the colours 
 of their riding coats, and the plumes in their hats. My 
 heart beat as I scanned them. Could the Duke indeed 
 be one of these ? It looked like it, for it was towards 
 this gi'oup that the crowds were for ever pressing. And 
 plainly there was some order observed in the method of 
 approach; for there was no jostling or crowding in the 
 immediate proximity of this small group, but persons 
 from the crowd seemed to be detached from it and brought 
 up one by one, and then to melt away into the press 
 again, as though their turn had come and gone. 
 
 As I advanced ever nearer and nearer, losing my van- 
 tage as I drew more close, and finding myself gradually 
 drawn into the throng of eager watchers, I heard men 
 talking one to another, and this was the burden of their 
 talk :— 
 
 " The Duke ! the Duke ! He is enlisting recruits. All 
 the country is flocking to him ! Heaven be praised, our
 
 1 84 OUR DELIVERER. 
 
 deliverer is come ! Down with the tyranny of the false 
 usurper ! A Monmouth ! a Monmouth ! " 
 
 And this cry was ever and anon taken up by all, and 
 went surging through the crowd like a mighty thunder- 
 clap. 
 
 " A Monmouth ! a Monmouth ! God save the noble 
 Duke ! God light for the righteous cause ! A Monmouth ! 
 a Monmouth ! " 
 
 I caught the enthusiasm of the people, and forgetting 
 all about mine uncle's errand, the prudence inculcated by 
 him, and the mission on which I had been sent, I flung 
 my cap into the air and shouted aloud for the Duke as 
 lustily as any. Then finding that I could not make shift 
 to get nearer to him on horseback, for the press was very 
 great, I dismounted and turned Blackbird loose on the 
 greensward, knowing well that he would let none but me 
 catch him again, though he would come at my whistle 
 like a dog, and gradually approached to the floating 
 standard, eager above all things else to look once more 
 upon the face of the Duke. 
 
 Little by little I made my way into the forefront of the 
 crowd, which had made a ring round the standard and the 
 group near to it, and kept an orderly and respectful bear- 
 ing, only breaking out from time to time into the joyous 
 shouts of which I have made mention. One of such shouts 
 was being given as I wormed and twisted myself into the 
 foremost ranks, some good-natured spectators making way 
 for me because that I was small of stature, and could not 
 otherwise witness what was passing.
 
 OUR DELIVERER. 185 
 
 " A Monmouth ! a Monmouth ! " shouted the crowd, 
 tossing caps and waving kerchiefs. " Down with Popery ! 
 Down with tyrants ' Down with all usurpers ! A Mon- 
 mouth ! a Monmouth ! " 
 
 And as the people thus shouted, he who stood in the 
 centre of the gay group about the standard lifted his 
 plumed hat with a courtly grace and smiled upon us 
 with a winning kindliness and confidence that made the 
 populace redouble their shouting ; and only after several 
 minutes had gone by was comparative silence restored, 
 and proceedings went on as before. 
 
 These were simple enough. A man would step forward 
 and ask leave to enlist in the Duke's army. His name 
 would be asked, and duly inscribed in a roll which was 
 being kept by a busy scribe. If he had any arms, he was 
 bidden to one part of the field ; if not (as was generally 
 the case), he was sent to another, and was equipped with 
 some sort of weapon from the stores brought over by the 
 Duke or obtained for him by his confederates here. 
 
 We believed then that he had arms and ammunition for 
 half England, should so many flock to his standard, and at 
 least for the equipment of as many thousand soldiers as he 
 wanted. It was only later on that we heard that arms had 
 speedily run short, and that scythes stuck upon poles, and 
 other barbarous makeshifts, had to be substituted for the 
 regular weapons of true soldiers. 
 
 My friends the rustics came up in due course, and were 
 enrolled in the list ; and the Duke had a smile and a 
 pleasant word for each, so that every man believed himself
 
 1 86 OUR DELIVERER. 
 
 known and remembered by his Grace, and every mouth 
 was filled with his praises. 
 
 The difficulty seemed to be in getting the names set 
 down fast enough ; and as that fact dawned upon me I 
 plucked up my courage, for being in a state of great ex- 
 citement and exhilaration, almost like intoxication, by the 
 stress of my feelings, I forgot everything but my desire of 
 winning the approbation of the Duke, and doing somewhat 
 in the good cause. So I stepped up before him, making 
 a low reverence, without waiting to be led or bidden by 
 those who were marshalling up the recruits. 
 
 " Well, my good lad, and art thou come to make a 
 soldier in our ranks ? " asked the Duke, with that pleasant 
 smile which had beamed upon me once before in my life. 
 " Who art thou, boy, and what is thine errand ? " 
 
 " May it please your Grace, I am the boy whom your 
 gracious touch did cure of the King's Evil five years 
 agone, and who has never ceased to bless you for that 
 gracious act. Nature has not been pleased to grant me 
 the strength or the stature for a soldier, but I can make 
 shift to wield a pen with any scribe, and would humbly 
 ask that I might help in this matter of writing down the 
 names." 
 
 " Well thought, boy," answered the Duke. " Our worthy 
 scribe there will be right glad of thy help. There be so 
 many come to join us that his labours are something 
 severe. Where dost thou hail from, boy, and what news 
 dost thou bring of the temper of the country ? " 
 
 For my travel-stained garments, and the dust upon my
 
 OUR DELIVERER. 187 
 
 clothing, showed that I had come some distance ; and 
 though the Duke's smile was full of light and confidence, 
 methought there was something of anxiety in his eyes. 
 
 " All the people be very eager and forward in the good 
 cause, your Grace, and rejoice to think you near," I an- 
 swered. " I myself come from Taunton, where your 
 friends muster strong. But Axminster and Ilminster are 
 almost as forward to give you welcome, as you will find 
 when you pass through them. But Taunton will give you 
 royal honours, and I pray you tarry not longer than need 
 be ere you set foot in that queen of cities." 
 
 The Duke's face lightened at my answer; and truly I 
 spoke only as I felt, and I had no thought to tell more 
 than the truth. Looking round on this crowd of gallant 
 officers and gentlemen, and seeing the hundreds pressing 
 to join the standard, how could I feel that the Duke had 
 aught but a triumphal march before him ? He rewarded 
 my confidence by taking me by the hand, and calling me 
 a right brave and honest lad, whom he should remember 
 in days to come ; and then, whilst my hand was still 
 tingling with the pressure, and my heart leaping for 
 triumph and joy, I was given a place beside the other 
 scribe, and commenced my duties as writer of names. 
 
 I know not how long I had been writing when a hand 
 was laid upon my shoulder, and a familiar voice spoke in 
 my ear, — 
 
 " Dicon lad, Dicon Snowe, is this the way in which thou 
 dost follow the behests of thy prudent uncle ? Is this how 
 thou dost cater for true news for him ? Is this how thou
 
 1 88 OUR DELIVERER. 
 
 dost prudently wait the issue of events ere thou dost 
 declare for one side or the other ? " 
 
 Looking up quickly — for the enlisting was well-nigh 
 done for the day, and there were few left to be enrolled — 
 I encountered the gaze of my lord the Viscount's dark- 
 blue eyes fixed full upon me with a glance half of reproach, 
 half of humorous amusement. 
 
 Truth to tell, I had indeed forgotten my character of 
 scout, and had flung myself into the very thick of the 
 movement ; though the future alone could say whether men 
 would come to call it by the name of victorious revolution 
 or seditious rebellion. I had been carried away by the ex- 
 citement of the scene and by my personal bias, and I had 
 thrown to the wind alike the prudence inculcated by my 
 uncle and the diplomacy I had promised to exercise on his 
 behalf. Nevertheless I had not betrayed myself, and I 
 had not enlisted as a soldier ; for who would enlist a 
 hunchbacked lad like me ? Nor had I even told my 
 name, it not having been asked of me ; so that I was not 
 exactly committed to aught. Yet I felt a thrill of shame 
 run through me, as though I had in some sort betrayed 
 trust ; and I said to my lord with some humbleness, — 
 
 " My uncle shall not sufler aught through any act of 
 mine. I will keep my pledge to him, and let him know 
 all I can find ere the Duke enters Taunton ; but how may 
 I hold back from him when I see him face to face, and 
 when you, my lord, are serving with him, whom I would 
 fain follow to the world's end or to death ? " 
 
 The Viscount smiled that smile of his which I never
 
 OUR DELIVERER. i8g 
 
 quite understood, but the pressure of his hand upon my 
 shoulder was kindly and friendly. 
 
 " It is like enough to be one or the other, wert tliou 
 simple enough to throw in thy lot with me," he said in a 
 low voice. " Exile or death is like enough to be the fate 
 of those who meddle in this matter." 
 
 His voice was only for my ear, and I heard his words 
 with a start of dismay and incredulity. 
 
 " But, good my lord, look on these rolls — look on this 
 list of names ! A few hours have brought all these men 
 flocking to the Duke's standard. What will not days do, 
 and when all the country side knows that he is here at 
 last ? " 
 
 Over the Viscount's face there passed another fleeting 
 smile, and his eye rested upon my scroll with a strange 
 expression. 
 
 " A few hundred ill -armed, undisciplined, untrained 
 rustic hinds, who know no more of warfai-e than I of the 
 plough ! Dicon, hast thou read thy history so ill as that 
 thou thinkest England and England's armies can be sub- 
 dued by such as these ? " 
 
 " But, good my lord, the train-bands will desert to the 
 Duke as fast as they are brought into the field against 
 him," I answered eagerly. " All men say so ; and those 
 I have spoken to have sons or brothers or lovers in the 
 ranks, and they know what they say. O fear not, my 
 lord ; be not down-hearted. The will of the nation is 
 with the Duke." 
 
 " The will of the nation — the hearts of the people ! " re-
 
 iQo OUR DELIVERER. 
 
 peated the Viscount slowly. " That may be, Dicon, in thy 
 sense, and yet misfortune may not be far off. Dost 
 know, lad, that except my unworthy self, not one bear- 
 ing the name of gentleman has joined the Duke to-day ? 
 Even Mr. Trenchard, who was to have met him with 
 fifteen hundred men, has fled to France out of the way of 
 peril We will see what the morrow and the morrow's 
 morrow bring forth ; but methinks if his Grace be wise he 
 will take to his ships again, and quit the country ere he 
 rouses up the lion to intercept and destroy him ! " 
 
 " O my lord," I cried in distress, " not that — not 
 that ! " 
 
 But he made no direct reply, and we could no longer 
 talk together where we were, for a great cry was raised, 
 " The Declaration ! the Declaration ! " and one whom I 
 may call a herald stood forth before the people with a 
 printed paper in his hand, and forthwith avowed that he 
 would read in the ears of the people the Declaration drawn 
 uji by the noble Duke of Monmouth, stating wherefore he 
 had come to England, and what was his object in so doing. 
 
 Now all the people were very attentive to hear this, 
 and held a great silence ; and I listened with the best of 
 them, striving to retain all in my memory, that I might re- 
 tail it in Taunton Town when I returned, and have where- 
 withal to answer the questions which should be put to me. 
 
 I cannot set down all here, for it was very long, and 
 would weary both reader and writer ; but it was a clear 
 exposition of the wrongs that the people were enduring 
 from an " unlawful and absolute tyranny " foreign to the
 
 OUR DELIVERER. 191 
 
 constitution and rights of tlie nation. It stated also the 
 perils of Popery and Papist plots, reminding us that the 
 burning of London in the last King's reign was held to 
 have been the work of Papists ; that the Duke of York, 
 now calling himself King, had unlawfully instituted all 
 manner of Popish idolatries, had set up the Mass, and was 
 about to persecute with fierce cruelty all those who op- 
 posed him or upheld the true religion of the land. Next, 
 we were reminded how he had done to death the late King 
 by poison, and mention was made of others also who had 
 been put from his path by like means ; and as these things 
 were read, the wrath and ire of the people grew so great 
 and terrible that they broke at last into yells of rage and 
 execrations against the false usurper on the throne, and 
 some voice raised a shout, which was instantly taken up 
 by hundreds and thousands, — 
 
 " King Monmouth ! King Monmouth ! We will have 
 no King but him ! " 
 
 Was this cry raised spontaneously at this point, or 
 had it been begun by some person for the sake of effect ? 
 At the time I never thought of such a thing, but later on 
 I have wondered whether some agent of the treacherous 
 Ferguson may not have been primed to the part. For the 
 words which followed seemed to fall almost too aptly on 
 our ears, although we none of us felt it at the time. I 
 can repeat this paragraph by heart to-day, having studied 
 it from the Declaration itself, which was once in my hands, 
 though soon it was death and dishonour to have a cojDy of 
 it in one's keeping : —
 
 IQ2 OUR DELIVERER. 
 
 " And forasmuch as the said James, Duke of Mon- 
 mouth, the now Head and General of the Protestant forces 
 of this kingdom, assembled in pursuance of the ends afore- 
 said, hath been and still is believed to have a legitimate 
 and legal right to the crowns of England, France, Scotland, 
 and Ireland, with the dominions thereunto belonging, of 
 which he doubts not in the least to give the world full 
 satisfaction notwithstanding the means used by the late 
 King, his father, upon Popish motives, and at the instiga- 
 tion of the said James, Duke of York, to weaken and 
 obscure it, — the said James, Duke of Monmouth, from the 
 generousness of his own nature, and the love he bears to 
 these nations (whose welfare and settlement he infinitely 
 prefers to whatsoever may concern himself), doth not at 
 present insist upon his title, but leaves the determination 
 thereof to the wisdom, justice, and authority of a Parlia- 
 ment legally chosen, and acting with freedom ; and in the 
 meantime doth profess and declare, by all that is sacred, 
 that he will, in conjunction with the people of England, 
 employ all the abilities bestowed upon him by God and 
 nature for the re-establishment and preservation of the 
 Protestant Keformed Religion in these kingdoms, and for 
 restoring the subjects of the same to a free exercise there- 
 of, in opposition to Popery, and the consequences of it, 
 tjn^anny and slavery. To the obtaining of which ends he 
 doth hereby promise and oblige himself to the people of 
 England to consent unto and promote the passing into 
 laws all the methods aforesaid, that it may never more be 
 in the power of any single person on the throne to deprive
 
 OUR DELIVERER. 193 
 
 the subjects of their rights, or subvert the fundamental 
 laws of the Government designed for their preservation." 
 
 Was it wonderful that such words as these raised our 
 enthusiasm and joy to the greatest height ? No more 
 packed Parliaments subservient to the will of the King, 
 instead of breathing forth the will of the nation ! No 
 more pandering to France, and receiving bribes from her 
 for the perverting and corrupting of English ministers ! 
 No more Mass ! No more idolatry ! No more absolutism 
 and oppression and tyranny ! 
 
 Oh, how the people cheered and flung their hats into 
 the air ! Was it wonderful that we shouted aloud for 
 " King Monmouth ! King Monmouth ! " 
 
 Who had drawn up that Declaration ? I afterwards 
 heard it was the Rev. Robert Ferguson, the man who was 
 ever in the Duke's counsels now, and who was foremost in 
 the cause, and eager to counsel boldness and advance. 
 
 Long afterwards I heard it whispered that he was one 
 of those crawling creatures who, to make their owoi skins 
 safe, play false to their own friends, by giving secret 
 intelligence to the other side, and therefore are bold to 
 urge rash counsel on others. What the truth of this may 
 be I know not. I can only say that Ferguson had the 
 face of a villain, and that I marvelled to see the Duke 
 take so much heed to him. 
 
 But I must not omit to mention my other acquaintances 
 and friends whom I saw in the muster about the Duke. 
 Young Mr. William Hewling was there, and Masters 
 Hucker and Herring, both looking very soldier-like in 
 
 (511) 13
 
 194 OUR DELIVERER. 
 
 their trappings, and now bearing the commission of cap- 
 tains of the Duke's forces. I quickly distinguished, too, 
 the fine face of Heywood Dare, which I had not seen for 
 some while. He was paymaster of the forces, and seemed 
 much in the confidence of the Duke. His son was ensign 
 to Captain Goodenough, and both gave me a nod and a 
 smile when they saw me. 
 
 Besides the Viscount, known to my readers, there was 
 no man of rank in this assembly save Lord Grey, who was 
 in command of the cavalry, and had solicited the assistance 
 of Viscount Vere. Many harsh things have since been 
 spoken of Lord Grey, and methinks he lacked skill and 
 courage in action, as will be seen anon ; but he was faith- 
 ful to the cause of the Duke, and I like not to hear him 
 railed upon. 
 
 So soon as I could get away after hearing the Declara- 
 tion read, I hastened to the town-hall, where the recruits 
 were all taken when enrolled to be provided with arms, 
 and put through certain martial exercises in preparation 
 for what might lie before them. The Mayor of Lyme had 
 fled, we heard, to the Duke of Albemarle at Exeter, with 
 news of what was passing. Another gentleman, Mr. 
 Dassell, who had striven to induce the authorities to fire 
 upon the vessels of the Duke before he landed, had 
 started ofi", it was said, for London. We began to under- 
 stand that we must make the best of our time before 
 the enemy came upon us ; but it was needful that the 
 recruits should be trained at least how to carry their 
 arms, and how to obey the word of command, ere they
 
 OUR DELIVERER. 195 
 
 were brought into the field and set in array against 
 trained soldiers. 
 
 Thursday evening and Friday were thus spent, my lord 
 the Viscount being one of the most forward and ready 
 to assist in these matters. 
 
 In the counsels of the Duke he seemed to take but 
 little part, but he was ready to do his utmost in showing 
 the raw rustics how to shoulder a pike or aim a carbine. 
 And sometimes he would step aside and speak a few words 
 to me (for I could not keep away from the Bowling Green, 
 where these things were going on), and he would say with 
 something of sternness in his aspect, — 
 
 " At least the honest rogues shall not be shot down like 
 sheep, or butchered as if in the shambles. They shall 
 learn all that can be taught them in a few days." 
 
 But as more and more men kept pouring in, it became 
 evident that arms were giving out, and that all sorts of shifts 
 would have to be resorted to to put them into the field at 
 all. True, we were cheered by the sight of many small 
 companies of armed militiamen deserting to the Duke, and 
 making gay and martial-looking those companies which 
 were forming with all possible speed. 
 
 We began to speak of the Blue Regiment, the Wliite 
 Regiment, the Yellow Regiment, according to the prevail- 
 ing colour of tlie militia uniform. No enemy appeared 
 against us. No news came of anything but loyal support. 
 It was said by scouts from Devonsliire that the Duke of 
 Albemarle was approaching, but that his soldiers were 
 deserting in great numbers — a fact of wliich wo had tlio
 
 196 OUR DELIVERER. 
 
 best testimony — and that he was more than half afraid to 
 bring the rest against us, lest they should go over in a 
 mass to our Duke. 
 
 All faces brightened at this news. We cheered and 
 huzzahed till the welkin rang. Even the Viscount's smile 
 was a little more free and full, and he clapped me on the 
 shoulder and said, — 
 
 " Perchance I have been a false prophet after all, lad. 
 At least thou canst bear back good tidings to Taunton and 
 to Mistress Mary. The issue of the day is yet to come, but 
 at least so far the auguries seem happy. Let us live in 
 the present, and leave the future to take care of itself."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 BACK TO TAUNTON. 
 
 HAD I been free, had I had none else to think of, had 
 I not been bound in honour to my uncle, nothing 
 would have held me back from openly espousing the cause 
 of the Duke, and seeking if I might not at least enrol 
 myself in some capacity amongst his followers. I would 
 have implored the Viscount to let me serve him in the 
 capacity of groom or valet, so that I might be with him, 
 and follow the fortunes of war. 
 
 But I knew that until I had fulfilled the task in- 
 trusted to me I was not mine own master; and yet I 
 felt the fire burning so hot within me, as I saw the muster 
 of this goodly array and the martial aspect of the town, 
 that I felt my only safety lay in flight, and that I must 
 tear myself away before I took some step which would 
 be disloyal to mine uncle, and a breach of the trust he 
 had reposed in me. 
 
 I thought of all this as I lay in a narrow bed in an 
 attic, counting myself lucky to have so much as a straw 
 pallet to rest my weary bones upon — for weary I was 
 with the excitements of the day ; and the town was so
 
 198 BACK TO TAUNTON. 
 
 full of recruits that numbers of these had to camp in 
 the open field or in yards and barns. This was no 
 great hardship whilst the dry warm weather lasted ; and 
 all men were so wrought up by the thought of the coming 
 deliverance from Popery and tyranny, that nothing was 
 counted a grievance in the good cause. 
 
 On Saturday morning I woke betimes, and after turn- 
 ing over all things in my mind, I resolved that I must 
 not linger longer where I was, but make my way back 
 that day as far as my aunt's house at Ilminster — accord- 
 ing to promise — and then on to Taunton on Monday. 
 The Duke, I had heard, would not leave Ljrme before 
 Monday, so I should be at home in good time to give 
 notice of his approach. 
 
 But I felt that I could not leave without one more 
 look at the Duke ; and, moreover, I bethought me that 
 my lord the Viscount might desire to send some letter 
 or message to Mistress Mary: in fine, I had a hundred 
 good reasons for not hastening away, as it might have 
 been wise to do. 
 
 I took as good a breakfast as I could get at such 
 a busy time, and putting the saddle on Blackbird, sallied 
 forth in the brave sunshine to find the Viscount, and to 
 pick up as much information as I could as to the plans 
 and route of the Duke. 
 
 Now, although I think that this was not very well 
 resolved on my part, I have never regretted it; for it 
 enabled me to witness a most extraordinary and lament- 
 able occurrence, which did much to damp the joy which
 
 BACK TO TAUNTON. 199 
 
 was in all our hearts, and to send me on my way a 
 sadder and a wiser man. But yet, I ween, there is 
 something in our nature which makes us eager to see 
 all that is to be seen, whether the sight be of sorrow 
 or terror or joy ; and therefore, when I approached the 
 place where the Duke's standard had been set up, and 
 saw that some sort of a tumult was going on about and 
 around it, I pressed the more eagerly forward, and soon 
 made my way (thinking less of my manners than of 
 my eagerness and curiosity) into the innermost circle. 
 
 I have spoken many times of Old Dare, as he is 
 still called in Taunton Town, where his memory is kept 
 green, and of his forwardness in the cause of liberty 
 and of the Duke ; and how that he was always first to 
 be on the spot when there was any fighting and any 
 struggle for freedom. He had spent most of the time 
 since landing in scouring the country for horses for the 
 Duke, and had come in late the previous evening with 
 some forty good beasts — the one he had purchased for 
 himself being a very fine animal. 
 
 All this I did not know at the time, but heard it 
 afterwards. What I did see when I approached was 
 that one of the Duke's captains, whose name I had 
 been told was Fletcher (I have not spoken of all the 
 captains, fearing to confuse the reader with so many 
 new names), was seated upon a fine horse, ready equipped, 
 as it appeared, for a journey, and that Old Dare stood 
 beside him with his hand upon the bridle, speaking loud 
 words in a very angry manner.
 
 200 BACK TO TAUNTON. 
 
 Now it had been said to me that the Scotchman 
 Fletcher was one of the few men about the Duke who 
 really understood the art of war, and that he was the 
 most valuable man we had on our side ; so that I was 
 astonished to hear high words passing between him and 
 Old Dare, and to observe that the altercation was fast 
 growing into a serious quarrel. 
 
 But even then I was little enough prepared for what 
 my eyes witnessed. Scarce had I come into full sight 
 and hearing of the disputants, before Dare raised his 
 hand in a threatening manner, as though he would have 
 struck his adversary with the cane in his hand; where- 
 upon Captain Fletcher, roused to a great wrath, drew 
 forth his pistol and shot Old Dare dead as he stood. 
 
 I could scarce believe my eyes. A mist seemed to 
 swim before them as I saw the gallant figure totter and 
 sway, and fall helplessly to the ground. Instantly all was 
 commotion and alarm. The Scottish gentleman turned 
 in his saddle and addressed those about him in loud 
 tones, — 
 
 " Gentlemen, I call you to witness that the fault is 
 none of mine. No man of honour could suffer himself 
 to be insulted as that fellow was insulting me. I appeal 
 to any gentleman who saw and heard all. Could I have 
 done other than I did ? " 
 
 A clamour and tumult at once arose of such magnitude 
 that I was glad to back away out of the forefront of the 
 commotion, and trust to chance to pick up later the gist 
 of the matter. But whilst the crowd surged round the
 
 BACK TO TAUNTON. 201 
 
 body of Old Dare on the ground, and round his slayer, 
 yet mounted upon the fine charger over which the dispute 
 had appeared to arise, Captain Thomas Dare came hurry- 
 ing up at the head of his levies, and all were crying 
 in loud and angry tones, — 
 
 " Vengeance ! vengeance ! Shall the murderer of 
 Dare go free ? Let him be taken before the Duke ! Let 
 justice be done upon him 1 Vengeance — vengeance — 
 vengeance ! " 
 
 The Duke was already upon the scene, a very troubled 
 and anxious look on his face, as was indeed no wonder, 
 seeing that the day had begun thus badly. There was 
 a great and increasing tumult around him, and I could 
 not tear myself away, although I could hear nothing of 
 what was going on. 
 
 After a long time, I saw Captain Fletcher being escorted 
 to the shore by a body of officers and troops, followed by 
 a storm of execrations and hootings. He held his head 
 proudly, and looked indifferent and scornful. I knew 
 not whether he were going to instant death, or what 
 had been decreed by the Duke; but as I pressed forward 
 to look, and strove to learn the truth from those who 
 stood by, I chanced upon my lord the Viscount, who was 
 looking very grave and anxious. 
 
 " A bad omen, Dicon," he said as I rode up to him ; 
 "a bad beginning when we turn our arms against one 
 another. Nay, I know not where the blame most lay. 
 It was Dare's charger, but Fletcher had taken it in the 
 service of the Duke, the better to perform the dut}- in-
 
 202 BACK TO TAUNTON. 
 
 trusted to him. It was not matter enough to cause the 
 spilling of blood. And yet it has lost us two of our 
 best men. Dare lies weltering in his blood, and Fletcher 
 has been taken on board the frigate to save him from 
 the fury of the people. He will be carried to foreign 
 shores by the sailing-master, and we have lost the best 
 officer we have amongst us." 
 
 I was distressed and grieved at the news, yet full of 
 mine own plans and projects too. I desired (as we do 
 desire such things — I know not why) to carry the news 
 of this disaster to Taunton myself, albeit it would be 
 sorrowful tidings there, for Old Dare was greatly beloved 
 and respected ; and my lord encouraged me to leave Lyme 
 and return to my uncle with the news. He sent messages 
 to Mistress Mary, and trusted soon to see her ; but all 
 through his discourse I felt that there ran a thread of 
 warning and disquietude. He cautioned me to avoid 
 getting myself too deeply implicated with the cause of 
 the Duke, reminding me that those were safest who stood 
 aloof and took no open share in the quarrel. I could 
 well see that he himself had great doubts about the 
 triumphant march to London of which our mouths and 
 hearts were full. He had been driven himself by several 
 goading motives to take up arms in the Duke's cause, 
 but he was wishful to warn others from following him 
 too blindly. 
 
 I rode away from Lyme thoughtfully enough ; yet all 
 I saw that day tended to raise my spirits. From all 
 parts men were pouring in to join the Duke. I met
 
 BACK TO TAUNTON. 203 
 
 them in companies of two or three, up to a dozen or 
 twenty, all bent upon the same errand, and hungry to 
 gain news from one who had seen the Duke and knew 
 what was happening at Lyme. Then there was another 
 sign which gave me food for pleasant speculation : at 
 many cross-roads the authorities had posted constables 
 to turn back the people who should be faring forth in 
 the direction of Lyme. But these worthies were them- 
 selves all for the Duke ; and though they stopped many 
 travellers and asked whither they were bound, and so 
 forth, yet, so soon as they heard, they wished them good 
 journey, and so let them go, and then laughed between 
 themselves as though it were all an excellent joke. 
 
 I made friends with many of these good fellows as 
 I journeyed, and heard from them how all the country 
 was for the Duke ; and indeed I could make certain of 
 this myself from the numbers of persons going to join 
 him, many of them being clad in the gay uniform of 
 the militia. My heart grew light as I journeyed, and 
 by the time I had reached Ilminster and my aunt's house 
 there, I had forgotten all my doubts and fears. She 
 received me joyfully, and that evening and the next day 
 I was beset by eager men and women all agog to hear 
 my tale, and ready to dance for joy at hearing that the 
 Duke would pass through their city shortly, on his way 
 to Taunton. 
 
 Already they began to hang their windows with bright 
 stuffs, and the town took quite a festive aspect before 
 I left on Monday morning. Children were scouring the
 
 204 BACK TO TAUNTON. 
 
 fields and woods for green boughs to make arches, and 
 posies to crown staffs. It seemed to me that the Duke 
 had nothing but a triumphal march before him, unless 
 indeed, as some averred, the Duke of Albemarle was 
 on the march eastward from Exeter to try to inter- 
 cept him before he reached the heart of the Western 
 loyalists. 
 
 One thing I must not omit to mention regarding my 
 brief stay at my aunt's house. Of course she had many 
 questions to ask about the Viscount, who had so won 
 upon her a day or two before ; and in speaking of him, 
 I could not but say that I feared he was not so hopeful 
 as to the success of the Duke as we were, and that I 
 sometimes fancied he himself looked forward to a death 
 upon the scaffold. At that my aunt looked very grave 
 and troubled ; yet both she and I saw that were the 
 Duke to be defeated, it was likely enough examples would 
 be made of the leaders and men of most mark and 
 young Viscount Vere might be one chosen to expiate 
 his rebellious act (as it would then be termed) upon the 
 scaffold. 
 
 But such a thought filled us both with great dismay; 
 for I loved the Viscount with a love I cannot hope to 
 express in words. And suddenly my aunt rose and took 
 a lighted taper, and said (it was now dark and late at 
 night, and all her household was abed, we having sat 
 up talking long after all others had gone), — 
 
 " Dicon, come with me. I will show thee a certain 
 thing ; and if the day should come when it can serve
 
 BACK TO TAUNTON. 
 
 205 
 
 thee or thy good lord the young Viscount, remember — 
 and I will not fail either him or thee ! " 
 
 As I followed my aunt, in great curiosity as to what 
 this speech could mean, she led me up and up through 
 the house into a great attic in the roof, whither walking 
 was difficult because of crossed timber beams and chests 
 stored with household goods ; and suddenly stooping down 
 in one corner, she made a curious clicking sound — I 
 could not see how — and then, to my astonishment and 
 momentary fear, seemed to sink into the floor, for soon 
 only her head was visible to me. 
 
 " Come quietly after me, Dicon," she said ; and then 
 I saw that she was pushing herself down through a 
 narrow aperture from which a rickety ladder led some- 
 where below. Following her through this trap -door 
 — for such it must be, though cunningly hidden, as I 
 saw afterwards — I by-and-by found my hand taken by 
 hers and myself conducted through such strange narrow 
 places as I had never been in before, till we came out at 
 last into a small but not incommodious chamber, where 
 stood a bed and a chair or two and a small table. And 
 then I divined that I was looking upon one of those secret 
 hidden chambers that were ofttimes to be found in ancient 
 houses, contrived as places of safety for hunted priests or 
 monks or Lollards, as the case might be. 
 
 My aunt put her lantern on the table, and said in a 
 low voice, — 
 
 "I will make provision for an inmate, lest the day 
 go against us ; and if thou, Dicon, or the Viscount should
 
 2o6 BACK TO TAUNTON. 
 
 come to trouble and be forced to fly, fear not to come 
 hither, and I will shelter you. For myself I have no fears. 
 I am a quiet woman, and take no part in great matters, 
 and all of my towns-folk think well of me. I shall 
 not be disturbed. But I will gladly give shelter to some 
 hunted friend of the Duke's if it be needed. Not a soul 
 in the town knows aught of this chamber. I trow I 
 could keep any man safe for a month here, and none guess 
 at his presence." 
 
 I was too much resolved to see nothing but triumph 
 for the Duke to believe that we should ever need such 
 shelter as this ; yet I was interested in the chamber, 
 and thankful to my good aunt for her kindness in thus 
 promising me help for myself or my lord should it be 
 needed. 
 
 On Monday morning, the fifteenth day of June, I started 
 off" with the first of the light to take to Taunton the news 
 of the approach of the Duke. A messenger had come in 
 overnight to say that the Duke would be leaving Lyme 
 that morning, and unless delayed by any encounter with 
 the forces of the Duke of Albemarle, which were said 
 to be advancing towards Axminster, might be looked for 
 at Ilminster perhaps by the evening, or at any rate on 
 Tuesday. So I felt there ^Yas no time to be lost in 
 getting to Taunton ; and as Blackbird seemed of the same 
 way of thinking, and went his best and fleetest, it was 
 only high noon before we arrived at the outskirts of the 
 town, to see in a moment that the whole place was in a 
 ferment of excitement.
 
 BACK TO TAUNTON. 207 
 
 Had I once allowed myself to be stopped and questioned, 
 had it once been known that I came from Lyme with tid- 
 ings direct, I should never have been suffered to pass on 
 my way, so clamorous were all the people after news. But 
 as I was sure that this would be so, I kept my mouth 
 shut, and put Blackbird to a hand-gallop, never drawing 
 rein till I had him safe within the yard of the Three 
 Cups itself. 
 
 At sound of the horse's feet my uncle came hurrying 
 out, and almost fell on my neck in his transport of joy. 
 
 " Ah, Dicon lad, how I have watched and longed for 
 thee ! Come in, come in ! I made sure some ill had befallen 
 thee. Now tell me all — tell me all ! The whole place is 
 full of rumours, and never heard I such contrary talcs. 
 Our prisons are full of country yokels and farmers, caught 
 in the act of going to Lyme to join the forces of the Duke. 
 They tell us here that he will never reach Taunton ; that 
 the Duke of Albemarle will meet and rout him ere the 
 day be done. Tell me, boy, what news dost thou bring ? 
 for faith I am half afraid to stir hand or foot, lest I find 
 myself in some horrible trouble." 
 
 Well, I told my story as plain as I could, neither mak- 
 ing light of such perils as I had heard of, nor yet failing 
 to report how forward were all the country folks in the 
 cause of the Duke. My uncle listened, and his face did 
 not lose its look of perplexity; but after I had told my 
 tale, I was eager to know, on my side, what had happened 
 at Taunton during my absence, and my cousin Meg coming 
 in and exclaiming at sight of me, I quickly got from her
 
 2o8 BACK TO TAUNTON. 
 
 the news, whilst my uncle went out to confer with those 
 of his friends who were still left in the town. 
 
 Meg told me that the public feeling was rising higher 
 and higher for the Duke, and that soon after I had left 
 Sir Edward Phillips and Colonel Lutterell had come in 
 with several companies of soldiers to keep the town quiet. 
 But on Saturday the latter had marched away with the 
 most part of the troops to join the Duke of Albemarle at 
 Chard or Axminster, and strive to intercept the advance 
 of the Duke, and cut to pieces his army, thus quelling the 
 rebellion at a blow. 
 
 Now this had been very grievous news for the people 
 of Taunton, who knew not whether their beloved Duke 
 might not be forced to fly or ever he had come to them 
 as deliverer and saviour. The magistrates now had charge 
 of the town, and were holding the people in check from 
 any sort of rising, both by their authority and through the 
 doubts entertained of the result of the engagement between 
 the forces of the two Dukes. 
 
 When I told Meg how many and great were the forces 
 pouring in to the Duke's standard, and how he was sur- 
 rounded by so gallant a band of officers and gentlemen, and 
 how the militia were deserting to him from every quarter, she 
 took courage and heart again; and others coming in to hear 
 my news, also thought well of it, and ere nightfall a new 
 feeling had spread through the town, whilst whispers were 
 abroad that it would be an easy thing in the absence of the 
 soldiers to make a general rising, surprise the guard, overawe 
 the magistrates, and seize and hold Taunton for the Duke.
 
 BACK TO TAUNTON. 209 
 
 But as yet it was only a whisper, and no man dared to 
 speak aloud of such a tiling. Order still prevailed, although 
 I felt that the city was like to the hot crust over the 
 crater of a volcano, and that at any moment a tongue of 
 flame might spring forth, and the whole aspect be changed 
 to seething heat and violent eruption. 
 
 As I was sitting at table satisfying my hunger after 
 so much talking, and telling those who stood by of the 
 death of Dare — a thing which caused much grief and 
 heart-burning in the minds of his townsmen — my uncle 
 came behind me and said that Lord Lonsdale had come in. 
 After hearing that I had been to Lyme, he had asked to 
 have speech with me ; and I rose at once, and found him 
 in the small parlour where guests of the better sort were 
 entertained. 
 
 Now although my Lord Lonsdale had not played the 
 part of a good father (in my humble opinion at least) to 
 his son, and though he was kno^^^l as a determined enemy 
 of the Duke, yet to me he had always shown himself kind 
 and gracious, and I was grieved to see the look of pain 
 and anxiety upon his handsome face. 
 
 " Dicon Snowe," he said, as I appeared, " it has been 
 told me that thou hast ridden scout for Taunton, and hast 
 been as far as Lyme, and seen the following of the Duke 
 of Monmouth. Tell me truly, boy, hast thou seen aught 
 of my son ? He has vanished no man knows where since 
 the first day of the month, and all that I can hear of him 
 is that he was seen riding south, as though he would make 
 for the coast. I have been consumed with fear lest the 
 (6n) U
 
 2IO BACK TO TAUNTON. 
 
 foolish boy has run himself into deadly peril. Tell me, 
 Dicon, hast thou seen him ? and what was he doing ? " 
 
 What could I say ? I am a bad hand at lying even to 
 my foes, and to lie to one who had ever treated me well 
 would have been a disgrace. I could but tell my lord the 
 truth — that his son the Viscount, goaded by fears of being 
 forced to wed a lady for whom he had no love, had 
 broken the yoke the best way he could, and so he had 
 joined himself to the Duke, his heart not being truly 
 in the cause ; and he was now doing all that one man 
 may do to drill the raw recruits, and make soldiers out 
 of men used only to the plough. Having so begun, he 
 would, I was convinced, see this matter through to the 
 end ; nor would any misfortune that befell the Duke draw 
 him from the standard, so long as that standard floated 
 over the plains of England. 
 
 Whilst I spoke in the finest words I could pick, my 
 lord wrung his hands together and lamented openly the 
 folly of the " boy," as he called him, the hot-headed rash- 
 ness of youth, and the fearful peril into which he had run 
 himself through his reckless impatience. I was sorry for 
 the distracted father, who plainly feared his son's head 
 would pay the penalty ; but my sympathies were all the 
 while with the gallant young Viscount. Nor did I think 
 the cause lost, as the Earl plainly did, although prudence 
 caused me to be silent on that point, and to express no 
 opinion. My journey to Lyme was not thought to be 
 an incriminating thing. Even the Mayor, Mr. Smith, 
 who came to see me and ask questions, rather praised
 
 BACK TO TAUNTON. 211 
 
 than blamed me for thus faring forth after news. I 
 think I sent that worthy away with a flea in his ear. 
 For I spoke of all the brave sights I had seen, and how 
 joyful the cities were at thought of the approach of the 
 Duke ; and I think he wished himself anywhere but in 
 charge of Taunton Town, with the citizens all in a ferment, 
 and the soldiers drawn off elsewhere. 
 
 But my day's work was not done until I had seen 
 Mistress Mary and given her her lover's messages ; and 
 so soon as I could shake myself free of the crowds that 
 kept coming to hear the news afresh, I stood at the door 
 of Miss Blake's parlour and sued for admittance. 
 
 I was welcomed almost with tears when it was known 
 where I had been, and both Mrs. Musgrave and Mistress 
 Mary were summoned to hear my tale, which did not grow 
 less through repetition. 
 
 Oh how Mistress Mary's eyes did kindle and glow when 
 I spoke to her of the Viscount, and how he had joined 
 himself to the Duke, and was in command of a fine 
 company of horse-soldiers under Earl Grey ! If she had 
 never loved him before, I think she would have loved him 
 then on hearing what he had done, and knowing that for 
 love of herself he had thus thrown all else to the winds 
 and joined the Duke's standard. As it was, loving him 
 heart and soul before, her heart could scarce hold all the 
 joy and gladness that my words aroused ; and when I 
 whispered in her ears the messages with which I was 
 charged, her beautiful eyes kindled and flashed, and she 
 clasped her hands together as though limdly knowing
 
 212 BACK TO TAUNTON. 
 
 how to keep back the words that sprang burning hot to 
 her lips. 
 
 In this house there was no fear as to the result. 
 
 " God will fight for the right," said Miss Blake solemnly. 
 " He will succour the oppressed in the time of need, and 
 will not suffer His cause to be trampled in the dust." 
 
 Then she went out of the room for a brief time, and 
 returned bearing a great burden, which Mistress Mary 
 hastened to help her to undo, and before my dazzled eyes 
 was then displayed the result of those weeks and months 
 of patient toil. 
 
 Twenty-seven banners, or colours, as it was the fashion 
 to call them, were spread out before my admiring gaze. 
 The rich materials had been provided by the secret gifts 
 of many wealthy inhabitants of Taunton, but the beautiful 
 needlework had been done by Miss Blake's pupils under 
 her own eyes ; and Mistress Mary's banner — the most 
 beautiful and the boldest of all, as I have said elsewhere 
 — was her own work every stitch, and she had purchased 
 with her own money all the materials to boot. 
 
 " When the King-Duke comes to his loyal city of 
 Taunton," said Miss Blake with pardonable pride, as she 
 folded the colours once again and laid them by in order, 
 ' a right royal welcome shall not be lacking him, shall it, 
 Mary my dear ? " 
 
 And Mary's eyes kindled and glowed and her cheeks 
 flushed as she lightly passed her hands over the great 
 raised letters J. R. worked upon her banner, and looked 
 up to answer, —
 
 BACK TO TAUNTON. 213 
 
 " Nay ; and if they call Taunton the ' Queen of the 
 West,' it is but right that the Queen should be ready with 
 royal honours for her King." 
 
 Well was it that such words as these were spoken with 
 closed doors ! Yet methinks these women had such cour- 
 age and devotion that they would have spoken them aloud 
 for all the world to hear had there been any cause. 
 
 After I had said good-night to these ladies, I found 
 myself so tired out with the labours and excitements of 
 the day, that I must needs find my way to my bed ; and 
 in spite of all the stir and tumult wliich reached me from 
 the street below, I slept well and soundly, unconscious of 
 what was passing, until daybreak on the following morn- 
 ing, when I was awakened by such a noise and commotion 
 as would have aroused even the Seven Sleepers. 
 
 But the account of that memorable day and the rise of 
 Taunton I must keep for a fresh chapter.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE REVOLT OF TAUNTON. 
 
 I WOKE with a start from a deep sleep, to find that 
 already a new day had dawned, and to hear in the 
 streets below the sound of trampling feet and the hum of 
 a multitude of voices. 
 
 Springing out of bed and commencing to dress myself 
 in a great hurry, I heard steps approaching along the pas- 
 sage, and my uncle came quickly in, looking haggard and 
 dishevelled, as indeed he well might, not having been in 
 bed or asleep for two nights. 
 
 " Heaven save us all ! " he cried, in a state of genuine 
 alarm. " All the soldiers have been called out. They say 
 the Duke of Albemarle's forces have been overthrown, and 
 that the Duke of Monmouth will be here by noon. Others 
 say that the Duke of Monmouth's army is in full flight, 
 and that the soldiers have been called out to help to cut 
 them to pieces and drive them into the sea, so that not one 
 of them shall remain alive by this time to-morrow. God 
 save us all ! What is a man to think or do, with such 
 frightful news pouring in, and none knowing the truth of 
 it 1 " and my uncle groaned aloud.
 
 THE REVOLT OF TAUNTON. 215 
 
 Now when I went to bed about ten o'clock the town had 
 been quiet enough, as I have said. The regular soldiers 
 had most of them gone, but several bands of the militia 
 were still there, and these were quite sufficient to overawe 
 the citizens ; for they wei-e not at all disposed to desert to 
 the enemy, like those bands in other places of which I have 
 spoken, and the magistrates and the Mayor had taken 
 every precaution that the city should be kept tranquil. 
 
 But with the first light of dawn flying scouts kept 
 hurrying in with news that there had been a battle be- 
 tween the two Dukes, and now the whole town was up 
 and astir in the wildest excitement. My uncle could not 
 learn the truth from anybody. The Mayor and magis- 
 trates tried hard to persuade the people that the Duke of 
 Albemarle was triumphing, and that he had called upon 
 the militia to finish the good work his soldiers had begun : 
 but the tale told by flying soldiers who made their way 
 into the city from Colonel Lutterell's regiment was very 
 different. They declared that the train-bands under the 
 Duke of Albemarle had given way everywhere before the 
 Duke of Monmouth's troops. The engagement had been 
 more or less in the dark and between hedges. The ac- 
 counts were so confused that it was hard to tell what was 
 the truth of the matter ; but at any rate there were con- 
 fusion and panic everywhere, and all lovers of order were 
 alarmed, striving hard to quiet the tumultuous citizens and 
 get them to return to their houses instead of running 
 wildly about the streets adding rumour to rumour, till 
 none could tell where the truth might lie.
 
 2i6 THE REVOLT OF TAUNTON. 
 
 All through that day this state of wild excitement lasted. 
 Mr. Axe was to be seen in all parts of the town trying to 
 persuade the populace to be orderly and quiet ; but when 
 towards evening the news came that the Duke — our Duke, 
 the Duke of Monmouth himself — was in full march for 
 Taunton, there was no keeping down the tumultuous hap- 
 piness of the people. They cheered, they laughed, they 
 shouted; they sang. Wlien IVIr. Nicholas Blewer appeared 
 in the streets (he had been forward in spreading rumours 
 that the Duke was overthrown, and in striving to set the 
 people against him by threats of fearful penalties to be 
 dealt to all traitors), he was so hooted and hustled that 
 he was forced to fly almost for his life ; whilst Will Wise- 
 man led a hooting crowd of half -mad apprentice boys after 
 him, and drove him ignominiously into his lodging. 
 
 But yet we dared not do more than raise our voices for 
 the Duke when no magistrate was by : for there were still 
 bands of militia in the town, despite the fact that continu- 
 ally companies were marching forth by one route or 
 another ; and guards were set everywhere, whilst the con- 
 stables were busy keeping order, though not quite with 
 that air of authority and certainty that they had shown 
 before ; and Mr. Axe and the Mayor worked hand in hand 
 to keep order in the city. 
 
 There was no going to bed for me that night. I felt 
 that a crisis was at hand — as indeed proved to be the 
 case ; and I sat with Will in a nook in the Cornhill, which 
 was always like to be the centre of any distxu-bance. 
 
 Quiet seemed to have been restored at dark ; but that
 
 THE REVOLT OF TAUNTON. 217 
 
 quiet did not last long, for at midnight the roll of the drums 
 began again, and we started to our feet, to become quickly 
 aware that the last of the troops were being marched out 
 of the town. By one or two o'clock in the morning 
 there was not a soldier left, only the guard and the con- 
 stables ; and these, if the truth were known, in a great 
 fright for their own safety. 
 
 " The soldiers have gone ! the soldiers have gone ! " cried 
 Will, in a fever of excitement ; and forthwith he went from 
 house to house, knocking cautiously at doors, which Hew 
 open without any delay — plainly showing that the inhabit- 
 ants were not asleep or abed that night ; and I followed 
 his example, till from all quarters men began pouring into 
 the street, and the first dawn of the midsummer morning 
 saw all the Cornhill full of people, looking into each other's 
 faces as though asking what should be done next. 
 
 I know not who spoke the word first. It is always 
 hard to say when the explosion comes whose hand set 
 light to the gunpowder. For some while it had become 
 known that no militia band was in the town, that the 
 soldiers had gone, that none remained now to impose order 
 upon the citizens. The town was practically in their own 
 hands ; they could do what they would. 
 
 Then there arose first a low whisper, just a rustle 
 through the moving mass of humanity, but the whis- 
 per that became a shout, and the shout that became a 
 yell, and was taken up and passed on, till every throat 
 was vociferating the one word, — 
 
 " Arms ! arms ! arms ! "
 
 2i8 THE REVOLT OF TAUNTON. 
 
 Now in the tower of St. Mary Magdalene's Church a 
 quantity of arms and ammunition had been stored in case 
 of emergency, and this fact was well known to the crowd. 
 Accordingly a movement was made in the direction of 
 the church, although the doors were known to be very 
 strong; and we still had reverence for sacred buildings, 
 whilst contemning the idolatrous usages of Popery. 
 
 But the blood of the citizens was up, and a trifle was 
 not to stay them. Will Wiseman had, as usual, managed 
 to get into the forefront of the crowd, and as they halted 
 beside the church, wondering how to get at the stores, he 
 cried out boldly, — • 
 
 " Help me up, good people ; hoist me on your shoulders. 
 Let me but get footing on yonder ledge, and I'll get the 
 window open and throw you out the arms as fast as you 
 can catch them ! " 
 
 A shout was the answer, and in another minute I saw 
 the bold Will swarming up to the leads of the church roof, 
 followed by first one and then another active man or lad. 
 To wrench open the windows, to get at the store of arms, to 
 pass them to those below until nothing remained within the 
 tower, was but the work of an hour. By six o'clock every 
 capable citizen of Taunton was armed and equipped. Those 
 who had horses were already talking of going forth to 
 meet the Duke and escort him to the loyal town. Women 
 were hanging their windows with the costliest stuff" their 
 stores contained ; children were going forth, as from II- 
 minster a few days before, to get flowers for garlands and 
 green boughs for arches. We laughed aloud in the joy of
 
 THE REVOLT OF TAUNTON. 219 
 
 oui" hearts. We shouted for the Duke till our throats 
 were sore. Every flying scout who came into the city 
 brought some fresh tale of disaster to the King's forces, 
 and of triumph to the Duke's. Our Mayor had not 
 shown his face since dawn. It was supposed that he and 
 the magistrates, and those of the Burgesses who could not 
 bring themselves to declare for the Duke, were hiding away 
 in fear of the anger of the people, and the possible punish- 
 ment the new King (as some of us boldly called him) might 
 inflict upon them for their resistance. 
 
 Mr. Axe, indeed, came towards us, to try to speak in 
 the name of order and authority ; but an excited citizen 
 marched up to him with a musket, and exclaiming, " We 
 will not hear you ! the town is ours ! " looked so threaten- 
 ing in his aspect that the clergyman quietly retired. 
 
 And then the cry broke out, — - 
 
 " Loose the prisoners ! Release Mr. Vincent ! Have out 
 the loyal knaves, who will raise a shout for the Duke ! " 
 
 No sooner said than done. The prison was broken open 
 by the mob. Mr. Vincent appeared before our eyes carried 
 high on the shoulders of the wildly-cheering crowd. 
 
 " A Monmouth ! a Monmouth ! DoAvn with Popery ! 
 Down with tyranny ! A Protestant King for England ! 
 A Monmouth ! a Monmouth ! " 
 
 There was no resisting that sort of shout ; we joined in 
 it almost to a man. Even my uncle, who took no open 
 part in these proceedings, remembering perhaps that as 
 Capital Burgess he was expected to be on the side of law 
 and order, could not refrain from adding a cheer as the
 
 2 20 THE REVOLT OF TAUNTON. 
 
 procession went by. The crowd, despite the efforts of Mr. 
 Vincent to free himself from their well-meant attentions, 
 insisted on carrying him in triumph through all the main 
 thoroughfares, shouting themselves hoarse the while ; whilst 
 other inferior prisoners were treated to as much ale and 
 sack as they could drink, and were listened to with ad- 
 miration and delight as they told the tale of their capture. 
 We were assured by this time that all England would 
 declare for the Duke, and that he would make Taunton 
 his capital in the West, and perhaps even allow himself to 
 be crowned here (so fast did our imaginations and our 
 tongues outrun reason and sense) ; that his enemies would 
 fly before him, and be scattered as we heard the forces of 
 the Duke of Albemarle had already been. In our great 
 joy we were like men intoxicated, and every sense was 
 strained to catch the first tread of approaching horsemen, 
 which should betoken the coming of the deliverer. 
 
 Toward four o'clock that same afternoon a mighty shout 
 was raised : " He comes ! he comes ! The Duke ! the 
 Duke ! " And men began rushing wildly towards the road 
 from the south, by which approach to the town from the 
 coast might be expected. 
 
 Will Wiseman was at the head of the rushing crowd, 
 and as I tried vainly to keep up with his flying feet, he 
 cried that from the tower of St. Mary's a scout had seen 
 the approach of a band of horsemen ; and that was quite 
 enough to rouse the shouts which were echoing down 
 the streets, and to send the whole populace flying forth in 
 one direction.
 
 THE REVOLT OF TAUNTON. 221 
 
 Although outrun by Will and the foremost of the crowd, 
 I yet reached the limit of the town before the horsemen 
 came up. 
 
 Right gallantly did the little cavalcade approach us ; 
 yet when they were near enough for us to distinguish 
 faces, we saw that the leader was not the Duke himself, but 
 our good friend and townsman John Hucker, now appear- 
 ing in all the bravery of his military dress — a Captain in 
 right of the Duke's commission, and bearing himself right 
 gallantly, so that we all looked at him in admiration and 
 amaze. 
 
 He drew rein at sight of such a crowd of friends, and 
 his honest face beamed with pleasure. 
 
 " Good news, my friends, good news ! " he cried. " His 
 Grace the Duke is on his way, and will be here to-morrow 
 with his victorious army, which has put to flight at Ax- 
 minster all the army of the Duke of Albemarle. We are 
 to march straight to Bristol and secure that for the Duke, 
 and then we look that all the country shall have risen in 
 his favour. London will be the next place. The King and 
 the Court are quaking and shaking. They dare not bring 
 men into the field against us, lest they all desert to the 
 Duke's standard. The stars in their courses are fighting 
 for the righteous cause. Citizens, be ready with a loyal 
 welcome to-morrow for the noble Duke — the future King 
 of England ! " 
 
 Oh how we did shout and cheer and laugh and weep ! 
 This brave message seemed to infuse new life into us. We 
 on our side pressed round Captain Hucker, to tell him how
 
 22 2 THE REVOLT OF TAUNTON. 
 
 we had risen for the Duke, and gained the mastery of the 
 town in defiance of guard and Mayor and magistrates. We 
 no longer trembled to think of our audacity and the con- 
 sequences it might lead to. We were full of triumphant 
 gladness; and our townsman promised that the whole story 
 should be told to the Duke, that he might know and ap- 
 preciate the loving loyalty and devotion of the men of 
 Taunton. 
 
 Captain Hucker, however, had private matters to attend 
 to, when ho had given us his first good news, and was able 
 to leave his soldiers in our care and ride to his own home. 
 
 I think I have said before that Master Hucker — as we 
 had hitherto called him — was a great serge-maker of the 
 town of Taunton. He had his mills in the fair valley 
 of the river Tone hard by the town, and he had a fine 
 house within the city, where he lived with his wife and 
 his daughter Eliza, who was one of the maidens of Miss 
 Blake's school, and had been engaged upon that goodly 
 task of working the colours for the Duke's army. 
 
 Captain Hucker now hastened home ; and as it chanced 
 that he passed me on the way, he asked news of mine 
 uncle and the rest of our household, and by me sent him a 
 message to ask if he could supply him with any of those 
 notable wines which he was known to keep in his cellar, 
 and which commanded a price higher than men cared to 
 give save on very especial occasions. 
 
 " For, Dicon," added Captain Hucker, " thou mayest tell 
 thine uncle that the Duke of Monmouth has graciously 
 promised to be my guest during the days of his stay in
 
 w 
 
 THE REVOLT OF TAUNTON. 223 
 
 Taunton. My poor house is to be honoured as the resting- 
 place of His Grace, and thou wilt see how it beseems me 
 to have the wherewithal for his entertainment. And listen 
 again, Dicon." The Captain leaned from his saddle-bow 
 with a beaming face, though he spoke in a very low and 
 cautious tone. " It behoves us to give a right royal recep- 
 tion to the Duke ; for although he enters Taunton but as 
 Duke of Monmouth, yet (if I do not greatly err) it will be 
 as King of all England that he will quit it." 
 
 And while I stood open-mouthed in amazement, not 
 seeing how this thing could come so speedily, Captain 
 Hucker laughed and nodded and rode on, only calling back 
 to me not to forget about the wine, and to bring him word 
 in a short space what mine uncle could do for him. 
 
 King of all England ! The words rang bravely in my 
 ears, but I could scarce credit them myself. To think 
 that fortune's wheel should bring to pass tliat I had seen 
 and spoken to a King, and had held his hand in mine even 
 for a moment ! 
 
 I went with my message to my uncle, who forthwith 
 started off to Captain Huclcer's house to see and speak 
 with him face to face. Doubtless he wished to learn from 
 him other matters than the amount of wine to be delivered. 
 As for me, I made my way to Master Simpson's; for I 
 had seen his face amongst the horsemen who had ridden 
 into Taunton, and I knew that he would tell us everything 
 that had befallen, and not send me away from sharing the 
 narrative. 
 
 He was in the garden behind the liouse and shop — a
 
 224 THE REVOLT OF TAUNTON. 
 
 right pleasant place, where I had spent many a happy 
 hour with Will and Lizzie. They were with him in the 
 arbour, filling his glass with the mead he loved best, and 
 heaping his plate with such viands as they thought he best 
 relished. He was both thirsty and hungry, as was natural 
 after the day's march, but he was talking all the while 
 nevertheless ; and when Lizzie saw me she darted forth 
 and dragged me within the pleasant arbour, exclaiming, — 
 
 " Now come and hear all father's tale. Oh, why was I 
 not born a lad, that I might have ridden forth beside him, 
 and joined in the glorious victory ! " 
 
 But her father fondly stroked her bright hair, and said, — 
 
 " Nay, nay, my maid, but thou hast done thy share at 
 home ; and the maidens' work shall never be forgotten in 
 Taunton Town. — Well, Dicon, so thou didst find thy way 
 safe home ? Thou didst miss the fight at Axminster, and 
 the rout of the King's general there. Ah ! it was a goodly 
 sight to see. If all battles end as speedily and as merrily, 
 I care not how many of them we fight." 
 
 He told us all the details of that skirmishing fight in 
 the lanes — how so many of their adversaries had deserted 
 to them, and how it was supposed that the Duke of Albe- 
 marle had drawn off* the rest in fear lest all his army 
 should melt away before his eyes. 
 
 " Why did you not pursue them, father," cried Lizzie, 
 " and kill all who would not join you ? That is what I 
 should have done. I would not have left alive one soldier 
 or officer who could hurt us afterwards. I would have 
 scattered and slain even as the angel of the Lord we read
 
 THE REVOLT OF TAUNTON. 225 
 
 of in tlie Bible, Now tlie Duke of Albemarle -will gather 
 his men and bring them up again perchance. I would not 
 haye left him even the remnant of an army." 
 
 " Well done, little general ! " cried the father, looking 
 well pleased at Lizzie's martial ardour ; and then gi-owing 
 a little more grave, he added, " I have heard others say 
 that that is what we should have done. Lord Vere was 
 very urgent to pui'sue and scatter the band ; but Lord 
 Grey was against it, and his word prevailed. I am not a 
 soldier born ; my duty is to obey my superior. Yet if 
 mine opinion had been asked, I would have said, as my 
 maid here says, that it were better to rout and disperse 
 the band than give it time and opportunity to re-form 
 and harass us as we move." 
 
 " I have heard a whisper that my Lord Grey is but a 
 sorry soldier," I ventured to remark in a low tone ; for it 
 is not for us citizens to condemn our betters. " Did not 
 men say that at Bridport he fled scarce striking a blow, 
 and left the infantry to be cut to pieces ; and no thanks 
 to him that Colonel Wade got them together and brought 
 them safe off ? That is a story one man told me. I prithee 
 what be the truth of it. Master Simpson ? " 
 
 He laughed a little uneasily. 
 
 " Oh, as for that little skirmish at Bridport, we take none 
 account of it, being but a small affair," he answered. " We 
 sent to surprise the militia there, and we gained possession 
 of the town right speedily, lint there was some blundering 
 and misunderstanding betwixt tin; oflRcers ; Colonel Venner 
 was wounded ; and the cavalry under my Lord Grey gal- 
 
 (611) 15
 
 226 THE REVOLT OF TAUNTON. 
 
 loped back to Lyme. But no great harm was done. 
 Colonel Wade brought his men back in good order. They 
 say small skirmishes like tha.t accompany all warfare, but 
 are of small note in the course of the campaign." 
 
 " I would the Duke would give my lord the Viscount 
 the command of the horse," I said. " He would not gallop 
 away from the scene of action, and leave the foot-soldiers 
 to their fate." 
 
 Master Simpson shook his head at my temerity in thus 
 speaking, yet he could not but say that he thought the 
 Viscount would make the better leader ; then we fell to 
 talking of the death of Dare, and the unfortunate loss of 
 two such good men as himself and Fletcher. For it had 
 been found impossible to use Fletcher any more in the 
 West Country, and the sailing-master of the frigate had 
 weighed anchor and taken him off elsewhere. Thus one of 
 the best soldiers was lost to us ; and, as we all very well 
 knew, out of those who went in the ranks by the brave 
 names of colonels, captains, and ensigns, scarce more than 
 two or three had been trained in arms or had seen service. 
 
 But on a day like this we were not disposed to let grave 
 and despondent thoughts gain the upper hand. The vic- 
 torious Duke was on his way to the town, and all Taunton 
 was decking itself for the reception on the morrow. 
 
 Master Simpson said he must see what he could do to 
 brighten up his house, and went to take counsel with his 
 sister ; whilst Will and Lizzie and I went forth together 
 and paraded the streets, watching the erection of triumphal 
 arches, the decking of windows and balconies, and listen-
 
 THE REVOLT OF TAUNTON. 227 
 
 ing to the joyful cries and shouts of the people, as they 
 ever and anon let their spirits get the upper hand, and 
 broke forth into song and cheering. 
 
 Lizzie was anxious to see her schoolmistress and take 
 her all the news, so I escorted her thither, and we passed 
 inside together, to find the house all in commotion. The 
 town girls had not gathered for schooling upon such a day 
 of excitement. No study could be thought of at a time 
 like this, yet never had there been a busier day in Miss 
 Blake's establishment. 
 
 If every window and balcony in the town was to be 
 decorated, how much was it incumbent upon her to get 
 done before the glorious morrow ! All the resident pupils 
 and the two mistresses were working might and main, 
 and at once Lizzie and I were pressed into the service ; 
 and as our fingers moved our tongues wagged, and such 
 a clatter as we made amongst us you would scarce be- 
 lieve. 
 
 Mistress Mary was there, of course — the most skilful of 
 all, and with her whole heart in the work. Yet she found 
 time to come up to me and ask in a whisper, — 
 
 " Has he come in to-day ? " 
 
 " No," I answered ; " he comes with the Duke to-morrow. 
 You will see him then. Mistress Mary." And her cheek 
 kindled and glowed ; yet there was a sorrowful look in 
 her eyes also, and I noted it the more because upon such a 
 day as this I should have thought nobody could have had 
 aught but tlioughts of joy and triumph. 
 
 As we were decorating a window toijether later on. and
 
 2 28 THE REVOLT OF TAUNTON. 
 
 uobody else chanced to be by, I ventured to ask respect- 
 fully,— 
 
 " Is aught amiss, fair mistress ? " 
 
 She looked at me, and suddenly the tears sprang to her 
 eyes. She clasped her hands together, letting her wreath 
 fall to the ground. 
 
 " Dicon," she exclaimed, in a passionate way quite 
 foreign to her usual calm, " how will this end — how will 
 it end ? Ah, if I only knew that ill and hurt would not 
 come from it ! " 
 
 " Why, Mistress Mary," I said in surprise, " you have 
 been ever most forward to prophesy victory, even when 
 things looked dark ; and now, when all the world is full 
 of confidence and hope, are you to fear and doubt ? " 
 
 " Dicon," she said in a low tone, " I had a dream last 
 night — a dream of terror and dread. And yesterday my 
 guardian came to me and said terrible words." 
 
 " What did he say ? " I ventured to ask. 
 
 " He said that I had tempted his son to his own un- 
 doing ; that I had put a halter round his neck, and had led 
 him to his ruin. He said that none but women and fools 
 could believe that aught could come of this rebellion — that 
 was his word — save a rapid downfall, to be followed, if 
 the King is of the temper he has shown himself ever, by 
 a fearful and exemplary vengeance. He said things which 
 made me shake for very fear, and he spoke with a cer- 
 tainty that rang like a knell in mine ears. And then I 
 had such a frightful dream of dreadful deaths upon the 
 scaffold, the hideous form of the executioner, the crowds of
 
 THE REVOLT OF TAUNTON. 229 
 
 faces, the horror and the agony. And above all, I seemed 
 to see Ids face looking reproach upon me, and his voice 
 saying in my heart, if not in my ears, ' It was for thy sake 
 I did it, Mary. I am dying now by thy act.' Oh, it was 
 terrible, terrible, terrible ! I have scarce been able to 
 enjoy this day for the thought of it." 
 
 I confess I did not like that dream. I had known 
 before of such that had proved much too terribly true. 
 Also it reminded me unpleasantly of Mother Whale's pre- 
 diction about much blood and little glory, which had always 
 borne a sinister sound in my ears ever since I had heard 
 it. But then had she not said that the King should die in 
 exile ? And if that should indeed be true, why need we 
 fear the rest ? 
 
 However, to Mistress Mary I strove to make light of 
 the dream, and spoke to her of the prognostications we 
 were hearing on all sides of the triumphal march lying 
 before the Duke ; so I think I left her comforted. Nor 
 could any person loving the Duke fail to be glad and 
 happy that night, for we all knew him to be close at hand, 
 and looked to see him bravely welcomed on the morrow by 
 all Taunton Town,
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A GLORIOUS DAY. 
 
 I HAD slept soundly and well upon the night preceding 
 that glorious and memorable eighteenth of June, de- 
 spite all the excitements of the day ; for the previous night 
 I had not troubled my bed, and nature will claim her dues, 
 be the moment never so full of stress and emotion. 
 
 But though I slept soundly and well, I awoke betimes ; 
 and I was not astir before others, for I heard the sound of 
 songs and glad voices in the streets before I left my room. 
 Below in mine uncle's inn all was life and bustle, for 
 the country folks were pouring in from far and near to 
 witness the arrival of the Duke ; and every hostelry was 
 taxed to the limit of its resources to find even sitting room 
 for the merry company, to say nothing of food for man 
 and beast. 
 
 I had never seen our stables so crowded with beasts, and 
 we had to tether them in the yard beside heaps of fragrant 
 grass and hay. My uncle's face was wreathed in smiles, 
 and he welcomed every comer with his wonted heartiness. 
 For the time being he was carried away by the stream of 
 popular enthusiasm ; and although still carefully refraining
 
 A GLORIOUS DAY. 231 
 
 from taking any overt part in the day's proceedings, was 
 ready to give welcome to all comers, and was perhaps glad 
 to be tied by the exigencies of business within the doors of 
 his house, so that did he wish it never so much, he could 
 not make shift to leave it, be it the King himself who 
 was coming to the town that day. 
 
 We knew that the Duke had slept at Ilminster the past 
 night, and therefore that he could not be here very early, 
 since a march of sixteen miles is not made without con- 
 siderable loss of time with an army of some thousands 
 of men. 
 
 But then there was enough to do, in order to receive 
 that army with hospitality, to keep us all busy, and I 
 would I could describe the appearance presented by Paul's 
 Field and the meadows adjoining, where we guessed the 
 soldiers would encamp ; for every citizen, however humble, 
 had some small contribution to make towards the accom- 
 modation of the good Duke's army and the hospitable 
 welcome of his followers, and the place looked like a great 
 fair with its tents and roughly-knocked-up sheds, and its 
 supplies of provision for man and beast hastily contributed 
 by the eager towns-folk. 
 
 As for the number of horses in the place that day, I 
 never saw the like. Everybody who had a horse, or could 
 by any means obtain one, had it ready to ride forth later 
 on to meet the Duke. I could have sold Blackbird a dozen 
 times over for thrice his value would he but have suffered 
 any other rider to mount him. As it was, several yeomen 
 and gentlemen would not be satisfied without making trial
 
 232 A GLORIOUS DAY. 
 
 of their prowess ; but although one or two contrived by 
 dint of excellent horsemanship to maintain a seat upon his 
 back for a while, yet none after that trial desired to con- 
 clude any bargain, and Blackbird remained in mine own 
 keeping, as I was sure from the first he would do. 
 
 Towards noon the horsemen began to gather and ride 
 out along the Ilminster road, and I perforce went with 
 them, though I could ill be spared from the inn ; but mine 
 uncle saw that my heart was no longer in my task, and 
 good-naturedly bid me go forth to see the show. 
 
 Almost needless to say that there in the forefront of the 
 riders — albeit with none but his own feet to carry him — 
 was Will Wiseman ; and so soon as he saw me he came to 
 my side, and I gave him hold of my stirrup leather, as we 
 had many times done before when I rode forth, and he ran 
 beside me gallantly, as untired as the horse. 
 
 " The witch is not right, Dicon," he cried more than 
 once ; " for come what may in the future, is not this glory 
 enow to satisfy the heart of man ? Didst ever see town 
 so bedecked as Taunton is this day ? And there will be 
 yet more to follow on the morrow ! " 
 
 For Will and I knew what gay show had been devised 
 for the morrow, and how it would be one that would 
 rouse the enthusiasm of the town to the highest pitch. 
 And Will (who had a wonderful gift for hearing news 
 before anybody else) whispered to me that there would 
 be other brave shows ere the Duke left the Queen city 
 of the West ; but when I asked him what he meant, he 
 only laid his finger on his lips and whispered, —
 
 A GLORIOUS DAY. 233 
 
 " Hist, Dicoii ! This be not the time or place to speak 
 of such things. But dost thou think that England will be 
 content to follow a Duke, even though he be the son of a 
 King ? We want a King and not a Duke to reign over us. 
 How can men flock to the standard of a Duke, when there 
 is a King upon the throne ? We must have a King, too, 
 else all will be confusion and mischance." 
 
 This word from Will confirmed what I had heard yester- 
 day about the Duke's leaving the town as King. I confess 
 I was perplexed how such a thing could be, the more so as 
 in the Declaration which I had heard read he had spoken 
 of not insisting upon his title as yet, and only doing so at 
 the request of Parliament. But then I had read enough 
 history to be very well aware that no Prince could always 
 adhere to the resolves laid down at the first. The tide of 
 popular sentiment often carries them beyond the bound 
 originally set ; and it might be very true, as Will whis- 
 pered, that the title of Duke would not be sufficient to 
 content the ardent followers who had flocked to the ban- 
 ner of one whom they hoped to see reigning as England's 
 King. 
 
 All this was very exciting, and stirred my pulses not 
 a little. At last my longings were gratified. I was living 
 in times that were truly historic. I was going forth to 
 meet the champion and deliverer of the people. What 
 could heart of man wish more ? I should see him and 
 behold his triumphal entry into the city. I should have 
 lived in days which would go down to posterity as the 
 days of a great epoch in our country's story.
 
 234 -^ GLORIOUS DAY. 
 
 Presently the cries and shouts of those in advance of us 
 told us that the Duke and his army had been sighted. 
 The cloud of dust which the horse-hoofs of our advance- 
 guard raised kept us for a time from a view of what they 
 saw; but presently the cloud subsided. All of us drew 
 away right and left upon the turf, leaving the road track 
 clear for the coming vanguard ; and in another minute 
 cheers and shouts began to rend the air, and we all tossed 
 up our caps, crying lustily, " God save the Duke ! God 
 save the Duke ! God be with your Grace ! A Monmouth ! 
 a Monmouth ! " 
 
 And one voice was boldly raised to cry, " God save the 
 rightful King ! " 
 
 The Duke came forward, riding a fine horse with all the 
 grace and manly skill which helped to make him a King 
 amongst men. His face was bright with smiles, he held 
 his head-piece in his hand, and bowed right and left as he 
 passed through the ranks of shouting, cheering citizens 
 and country folk, all come out to do him honour. 
 
 Beside him rode a body-guard of some forty or fifty 
 gentlemen, well mounted and equipped ; and amongst these 
 I soon singled out my lord the Viscount, whose gallant 
 bearing and golden locks made him conspicuous even 
 amongst so many gay riders. He saw me too, and gave 
 me a smile and a nod. But he kept his place near to 
 the Duke, and we who had come out to welcome him 
 escorted that gallant band at a short distance, the main 
 body of the horse following about a quarter of a mil© 
 behind, and the infantry, waggons, and guns (of which
 
 A GLORIOUS DAY. 235 
 
 there were very few) bringing up the rear half a mile 
 away, and proceeding much more leisurely. 
 
 Will had set off running towards the city like a hare 
 so soon as he had really set eyes upon the Duke and 
 had heard from my lips that it was truly he. Therefore 
 on our approach to the city we were surrounded by such 
 a crowd as I surely think no man amongst us had ever 
 seen before. Hundreds of children lined the roadway into 
 the town, flinging posies and garlands before the feet of 
 the Duke's horse. A band of minstrels welcomed him with 
 strains of martial music ; and whilst women wept aloud and 
 called aloud upon him as their saviour and deliverer, men 
 shouted his name and made the welkin ring with their 
 cries, till one would have thought the whole place had 
 gone mad with joy. 
 
 So thronged were the streets that it was difficult for the 
 Duke to make his way along them, and the many pauses 
 which had to be made rendered it easy for the people to 
 press round him, kiss his hands and shower blessings of 
 every sort upon him. This gave him opportunity to reply 
 to them by smiles and gentle words, such as he was very 
 ready with. And he won all hearts by his gracious de- 
 meanour, by the beauty of his person, and by the kingly 
 grace of his deportment. 
 
 The procession wound slowly up the High Street towards 
 the Cornhill, and when the open space was reached, the 
 Duke's company moved towards the right in the direction 
 of Fore Street, thus approaching somewhat nearly to the 
 Three Cups Inn, and also to that house where Miss Blake
 
 236 A GLORIOUS DAY. 
 
 held her school. I think it was by arrangement that the 
 Duke had been thus slowly urged along Fore Street; for 
 as he approached the corner a sudden silence fell upon the 
 crowd, whilst all eyes were tu^-ned upon a certain gaily- 
 draped balcony ; and immediately there appeared upon it 
 a crowd of white-robed maidens, and to the accompaniment 
 of the band of minstrels their voices were raised in a sweet 
 strain. 
 
 They sang several stanzas of some poem, which I after- 
 wards heard had been culled from the writings of Dryden, 
 and which, it was whispered to me, had been obtained with 
 some difficulty and set to music by the organist of St. 
 Mary's Church. Only one verse remains in my memory, 
 and very appropriate did those words sound as they were 
 chanted forth by the white-robed throng : — 
 
 "Thee, saviour, thee, the nation's vows confess, 
 And never satisfied with seeing, bless ; 
 Swift unbespoken pomps thy steps proclaim. 
 And stammering babes are taught to lisp thy name." 
 
 The Duke listened to the song with bared head, and at 
 its close made a graceful reverence to the young maidens, 
 who retreated from the public gaze so soon as their part 
 had been performed. I saw the Viscount's eyes fixed upon 
 the balcony ; and I had well been able to distinguish 
 Mistress Mary's rich voice leading the carol, and giving 
 strength and power to the strain. That she had seen her 
 lover I did not doubt. His face showed that the magic 
 language of love had been exchanged between them as 
 they stood so near to one another.
 
 A GLORIOUS DAY. 237 
 
 But there were graver matters on hand than mere songs 
 of praise and shouts of welcome and devotion. A Httle 
 stir in the crowd betokened the setting up of the standard 
 in the centre of the Cornhill ; and then a herald stood 
 forward, and demanded that the city magistrates should 
 instantly be summoned to attend the reading of the Dec- 
 laration which would forthwith be made. 
 
 Eager partisans ran hither and thither to summon these 
 dignitaries, and no doubt they looked upon discretion as 
 the better part of valour, for a certain number of them 
 shortly appeared. Some said that Mr. Bernard Smith, our 
 Mayor, was also present ; but of that I cannot be sure, 
 since I did not see him myself, and I can never be certain 
 that what report spoke was the truth. 
 
 I have spoken before of that Declaration, and need not 
 more particularly refer to it here, save to remind you how 
 gratefully would those fair promises of toleration and 
 justice fall upon the ears of our citizens who had seen 
 the demolition of their chapel and meeting-places, and had 
 for years been constrained either to go to chiirch against 
 their desire or conviction, or to meet privily to hear the 
 Word preached to them after their own fashion, whilst 
 they were subject to many and grievous penalties for 
 doing even this. 
 
 Every clause of the Declaration, then, was received with 
 shouts and cries of joy. The long indictment against the 
 present King fell like music on the ears of those who had 
 regarded him from the first with fear and hatred. Enthu- 
 siasm was stirred to its highest pitch by the terms of this
 
 238 A GLORIOUS DAY. 
 
 long document; and the people crowded so close about 
 the herald, that I was glad to get out of the press, lest I 
 should be trodden underfoot and suffocated. 
 
 After the Declaration had b'^en read aloud in the ears 
 of the people, a copy of it was affixed in one or two places 
 about the town, where all who could might read it for 
 themselves ; and then a proclamation was read which gave 
 great joy to all the people, showing as it did the gentle 
 temper of the Duke, and his anxiety that justice and 
 mercy should always be done in his name. 
 
 This proclamation set forth that whereas, to the great 
 reproach and scandal of the good cause, and contrary to 
 the commands and wishes of the Duke, certain lewd and 
 dissolute persons had, under cover of a pretence of zeal, 
 been guilty of acts of pillage and robbery, and in especial 
 had taken horses from the good and peaceable country 
 folk without payment, it is strictly charged that no such 
 acts be committed any more ; and that if any person in 
 the future be robbed of aught he possesses, he is in- 
 vited straightway to repair to the camp, and to lay 
 complaint before the Duke, when justice shall at once be 
 done. 
 
 This proclamation gave great satisfaction to all those 
 who could remember, or who had heard stories of the cruel 
 depredations inflicted formerly by the soldiery in times of 
 war, when redress was practically impossible. I will not 
 go so far as to say that this proclamation had the desired 
 efTect of putting a stop to all such depredations ; but at 
 least it was evidence of the temper and the wishes of the
 
 A GLORIOUS DAY. 239 
 
 Duke, and was received with loud acclamations of joy and 
 affection by the people. 
 
 By this time the day had fast waned ; and although 
 the sun was still high in the sky, being nearly at the 
 summer solstice, yet the Duke and his party were fatigued 
 by their long march in the heat, and by the fervour of 
 their reception. So when Captain Hucker came forward 
 to say that he had all in readiness at his house for the 
 entertainment of the Duke and some of his officers, whilst 
 others were to be received by substantial citizens with 
 whom they would find abundant good cheer, the party 
 was glad enough to betake itself to rest and refreshment ; 
 and the good folks from the outlying districts, who had 
 ridden in to see and welcome the Duke, now hastened 
 away to get their horses, and to leave the crowded town. 
 
 I heard Captain Hucker invite the Viscount to the 
 hospitality of his house ; but his invitation was courteously 
 declined. Lord Vere saying quietly that he had business of 
 his own to see to. 
 
 I guessed that that business had somewhat to do with 
 Mistress Mary, nor was I surprised when presently he 
 came and linked his arm in mine (in that friendly fashion 
 he was not ashamed to show even in the eyes of the 
 citizens who knew his rank and my humble birth) and 
 said, — 
 
 " Good Dicon, thinkest thou thine uncle can find me a 
 bed to-night? I have not slept in one since leaving 
 Ljnne, indeed since reaching Lyme. I would sooner lie 
 in his house than in any other to-night, for I must have
 
 240 A GLORIOUS DAY. 
 
 speech with Mistress Mary to-day if such a thing be 
 possible ; and I trow that I shall gain it best through thy 
 good offices." 
 
 I knew my uncle would be glad enough to have Lord 
 Vere as his guest. Lord Lonsdale's son was greatly be- 
 loved in Taunton, and to harbour him would not be like 
 to do any man hurt, since Lord Lonsdale was known for a 
 very loyal servant of King James, and most like would 
 use such influence on behalf of his son (supposing that 
 evil days fell upon this expedition, which Heaven forfend) 
 that he would escape the penalty of his rashness. My 
 uncle did not desire to hold too sullenly aloof from all the 
 hospitalities offered to the Duke's followers, neither did he 
 wish too deeply to embroil himself with the rising. So 
 that he was very well pleased when I brought back my 
 lord the Viscount, and at once allotted to him the best 
 bed-chamber, and set before him the best viands left in 
 the house after all the feeding and feasting of the day. 
 
 I waited on my lord, and when he had appeased the 
 worst of his hunger, he made me sit down and make a 
 meal myself of the fragments ; which I was nothing loath 
 to do, having scarce broken my fast since morning, for 
 the excitement and bustle of the day. As I ate he sat 
 thoughtfully toying with some fruit, and at the last asked 
 suddenly, — 
 
 " Dicon, is it true that there be many colours worked 
 by the maidens yonder that will be presented to-morrow 
 to the Duke ? " 
 
 " I trow so, good my lord," I answered, with secret
 
 A GLORIOUS DAY. 241 
 
 triumph in my heart. " I have heard and seen somewhat 
 of it." 
 
 " And will Mistress Mary Mead be amongst those who 
 will present them ? " 
 
 " Truly I believe it, my lord. Her banner is the best 
 and most beautiful of all, and every stitch her own. Is it 
 like that upon such a day she would be more backward 
 than others I " 
 
 My lord's face was very grave and anxious. 
 
 " Dicon, I would have speech with her this night. 
 Canst thou obtain it for me ? There may be more peril 
 than she wots of in this thing. I would save her from it 
 if it might be. Can I make shift to see her ? " 
 
 " Why, yes, my lord ; I see no great difficulty about it," 
 I answered. " I am always welcome when I go in with 
 news of the day's doing ; and after such a day as this I 
 shall be tenfold more welcome. And if you will con- 
 descend to accompany me to the house — any gallant 
 Captain of the Duke's forces will be welcomed with 
 honour by Miss Blake. I doubt not that by this she is 
 in Mistress Mary's secret ; and whilst I tell all my news 
 to her, you can get speech with Mistress Mary in another 
 part of the room. I see no trouble about it on such a day 
 as this. All Taunton is on the tip-toe of expectation. 
 None bearing news will be denied entrance at such a time." 
 
 " Good," answered my lord, rising to his feet : " I will 
 but arrange my dress and wash away these stains of dust, 
 and present myself to Miss Blake, and gain speech of 
 Mistress Mary if it may be." 
 
 (510 16
 
 242 A GLORIOUS DAY. 
 
 How gallant and beautiful my lord the Viscount looked 
 when he came down from his sleeping-chamber a few 
 minutes later my poor pen cannot well say. I felt that 
 such a lover might well win the heart of any maid ; and 
 I pretty well knew by this time that Miss Blake was in 
 the secret of Mistress Mary's amours, and that she would 
 do everything in her power to bring about the happy union 
 of two such loyal and loving hearts. Any man serving in 
 the army of the Duke would win her regard and respect ; 
 and the personal charm of the Viscount could not fail to 
 make itself felt, whilst the romantic story of his love for 
 Mistress Mary, and the sacrifice into which it had led him, 
 could not but touch the heart of any woman, be she never 
 so hard to please. Wherefore I was very sure that Vis- 
 count Vere would receive a warm welcome in the parlour 
 of the ladies. 
 
 Nor was I deceived in this. The serving-maid, with a 
 flushed and smiling face, admitted us at once into the 
 familiar room, bright with the last flush of day ; and there 
 was Mistress Mary still in her white robes, and the two 
 mistresses flushed and exultant, eager after news and ready 
 with the warmest welcome for me, and with words of deep 
 respect and most sincere good-will for my lord, whose 
 appearance in my wake put them quite into a flutter, and 
 caused Mistress Mary's cheeks to glow as though the sun- 
 set sky had been reflected in them. 
 
 She remained in the deep window seat, and for a while 
 my lord spoke with the other ladies; but presently he 
 made his way across to where his mistress sat, and we
 
 A GLORIOUS DAY. 243 
 
 at the other end spoke of many tilings. I told all I had 
 seen of the meeting of the Duke outside the city, and of 
 his gallant entrance therein. 
 
 What the lovers spoke of at first I know not. I heard 
 the low tone of Mistress Mary's voice, but not the words, 
 and I guessed that she might be speaking of those fears 
 and anxieties which she had named to me. However, of 
 this I cannot speak certainly. What I can answer for is 
 that presently the Viscount raised his voice so that we all 
 could hear, and said, rather to Miss Blake than to any 
 other, — 
 
 " Ladies, I hear that you are to take a bold step to- 
 morrow. Have you bethought you what the consequences 
 may be should the issue of this revolt be other than the 
 well-wishers of the Duke desire ? " 
 
 " My lord," answered Miss Blake, with an air of un- 
 conscious dignity, " we frail human creatures have naught 
 to do with results ; those are in the hands of Him who 
 cannot do amiss. Our part is to do our duty, and show 
 forth our love and service in the cause of right and truth 
 and virtue. This we are resolved to do, and no fear of 
 results will serve to fright us from our appointed task. 
 You men can go forth and fight in the righteous cause. 
 There is little that we poor women can do, yet that little 
 shall not be lacking. You would not, gallant sir, strive 
 to deter us from taking our small share in this noble 
 struggle ? " 
 
 One of the Viscount's strange smiles hovered over his 
 beautiful face. " Madam," he said, with a bow, " after
 
 244 A GLORIOUS DAY. 
 
 such words as those, mine sound but poor and mean and 
 faint-hearted. But you know that I love Mistress Mary, 
 and that I would lay down my life to keep her from 
 harm. I know more of the forces at the King's disposal 
 than the country folks here seem to do, and my fears are 
 therefore greater, and my hopes less strong, than those 
 which fill the breasts of the citizens of Taunton. If ill 
 betide this rising, there will be evil days to follow ; and 
 those who are most known to have taken a part in it will 
 be subject to most danger. I have no right to counsel 
 you, madam ; but I have that claim upon Mary which bids 
 me warn her what she is doing. If she carries forth her 
 banner to-morrow, it may be that some hurt she little 
 thinks of now will fall upon her." 
 
 " And if it does, what then ? " asked Mistress Mary, 
 raising her head, and looking so beautiful in her generous 
 enthusiasm that I could only hold my breath and gaze at 
 her speechlessly. " Dost think, my lord, that it is only 
 men who are willing to suffer and to die in a noble cause ? 
 Nay, in so thinking thou dost greatly err, thou dost greatly 
 wrong us women. I would gladly lay down my life for 
 the cause to which I am pledged, the cause of truth and 
 liberty and righteousness." She turned her eyes full upon 
 him as she spoke, and then suddenly the light in them, 
 which had been proud and even tinged with a noble 
 scorn, suddenly softened, and she laid her hand gently 
 upon his arm, speaking her next words in a different key, 
 and with a tenderness that I can never hope to make 
 you hear. " Reginald," she said softly, and in a moment
 
 A GLORIOUS DAY, 245 
 
 his hand had sought and covered hers, and I think they 
 both forgot just then that there were any beside to hear 
 what they said, " thinkest thou that I would draw back 
 from any cause to which thou hadst pledged thyself ? 
 Thinkest thou that I fear any peril that thou too dost 
 share ? Hast thou not taken up arms in the same good 
 cause ? and if peril threaten me, it will threaten thee also. 
 Shall I fear to share anything with thee ? Thou dost 
 know me wondrous little an thou thinkest that. Together 
 we will live, or together we will die. What matters it so 
 that we be always together ? " 
 
 As she spoke these last words, he raised the hand he 
 held and pressed it to his lips. She did not strive to 
 withdraw it ; and we averted our eyes, that we might not 
 seem to see too much of what is infinitely sacred — that 
 mystery of human love which is the mainspring of all 
 the great actions done in the world. There were tears in 
 Miss Blake's eyes, and Mrs. Musgrave was wiping hers 
 furtively. In a low whisper one of them said to the 
 other, — 
 
 " Was ever love so true and beautiful ? My Lord Lons- 
 dale may rage as he likes an it reaches his ears, it would 
 be sin and shame to strive to part two such hearts. 
 Heaven has' made them for one another. What God has 
 joined together, let not man strive to put asunder." 
 
 Just at this moment there was a little stir outside the 
 door. It was opened rather suddenly and hastily, and the 
 serving-maid put in her head and exclaimed in half-angry, 
 half -frightened tones, —
 
 246 A GLORIOUS DAY. 
 
 " It is no fault of mine, mistress ; he will come in." 
 
 And the next minute we saw before us in the gather- 
 ing twilight the lank figure and evil face of Mr. Nicholas 
 Blewer. 
 
 Now Miss Blake had ever hated and distrusted this 
 man, and of late days, gaining courage from the approach 
 of the Duke, she had dared to deny him entrance into her 
 house. But I suppose he had to-day found the maid 
 gossiping in the streets, as maids will do in times of 
 excitement, and so had forced his way in, and now stood 
 looking round upon us all with an evil smile upon his 
 cruel face. 
 
 In our part of the room there was not much light ; but 
 Mistress Mary and her gallant lover sat together on the 
 window seat where the western light shone in upon them, 
 and her white dress and liis festal suit of white and blue 
 caught the last of the evening glow, and seemed to stand 
 out against the window like a picture. I saw the sudden 
 change which came over Mr. Blewer's face as he saw who 
 was with Mistress Mary ; and there was something in the 
 tones of his voice that made me long to spring at his 
 throat and throttle him then and there, so full was it of 
 covert malice and bitter hostility. 
 
 " I trust I do not intrude. I could not deny myself the 
 pleasure of seeing you all so happy after this strange day's 
 masquerade. Doubtless it has seemed to you like the 
 dawn of a new day. But, dear ladies, it were well to 
 remember that all that glitters is not gold. Be not too 
 sure that your millennium has already come. There be
 
 A GLORIOUS DAY. 247 
 
 strange chances and changes in the fortunes of war. — My 
 sweet young mistress, I must caution you not to be over- 
 rash in the zeal with which you welcome this new Prince 
 Absalom." 
 
 He looked straight at Mistress Mary as he spoke these 
 words, and approached as if he would take her hand ; but 
 she suddenly rose and slipped it within my lord's arm, 
 and, looking full at Mr. Blewer with a scorn both in face 
 and voice which I think could not well be surpassed, said 
 simply, — 
 
 " With my affairs, sir, you have no concern. I never 
 wish to see your face again, nor to hear the sound of your 
 voice. You have been forbidden this house, and you are 
 here only by a trick. Go ! I have nothing to say to you. 
 I distrust and I despise you. There ! you have my last 
 word." 
 
 " Go, sir ! " said Miss Blake, taking up the gauntlet so 
 boldly thrown down ; " you have ever been a false friend 
 and a spy in this house. Go ! and never darken our door 
 again." 
 
 He turned fiercely upon her, his face hideous in its 
 cruel passion. " You threaten me, madam ! Have a care, 
 else in the days to come you may bitterly repent the 
 slights you have put upon me. My turn will come all too 
 soon for you ; see if it does not ! — And as for you, proud 
 minx — " wheeling back towards Mistress Mary with flaming 
 eyes. But that was the last word he spoke in that room. 
 My lord the Viscount sprang forward, and stood before 
 liim with such a noble ansrer and scorn in his face that
 
 248 A GLORIOUS DAY. 
 
 the coward shrank back in affright, as though he feared a 
 blow. But the Viscount's hand was never raised against 
 him. 
 
 " Sir," he said, " you are protected by your sacred call- 
 ing, little as you are worthy of it, and by the presence of 
 ladies. But utter one more word of threatening, and you 
 will be flung into the streets like the craven cur you are. 
 You with impunity thought to insult and intimidate de- 
 fenceless women. You have made a mistake, and out of 
 this house you go at the bidding of its mistress without 
 more ado. There is the door, sir. If you do not desire to 
 go forth faster than you came in, go ! I shall not speak 
 twice." 
 
 Mr. Blewer's eyes seemed to flash baleful fire, but he 
 did not pause or hesitate ; he was gone before we had time 
 to draw three breaths. The little maid was heard to slam 
 and bolt the door behind him, but came to say that it was 
 awful to hear him swearing on the other side. 
 
 " He will do us grievous hurt if he ever can," said Mrs. 
 Musgrave, looking pale. 
 
 " He would have done that in any case," answered Miss 
 Blake calmly ; " he was always a wolf in sheep's clothing. 
 ■ — My Lord Vere, I give you great thanks for your action 
 in this matter. It is only a coward who dares to threaten 
 women. You showed him in all his cowardice as it was 
 meet it should be shown him. Methinks he will come here 
 no more, and that Mary will be safe from his persecution. 
 That is a good step gained." 
 
 " But he will be an implacable foe to you, Reginald,"
 
 A GLORIOUS DAY. 249 
 
 breathed Mistress Mary, softly and timorously, so quickly 
 do the moods of women change. " Oh, I trust he will 
 never have power to harm you ! " 
 
 " He will harm us all if he can," answered my lord 
 quietly ; " but we will not begin to fear him yet. Per- 
 chance he may find his own fate one of these days. 
 It may not be given to him to hurt us. And now, 
 ladies, I must wish you adieu. On the morrow, doubtless, 
 we shall meet. We are embarked together upon a some- 
 what perilous voyage. God grant that we come at last to 
 a fair haven ! " 
 
 He took Mary in his arms and kissed her before us all, 
 as though he felt it might be the last time. She clung 
 to him half sobbing, half laughing, from excess of joy 
 and sorrow mingled. The next minute we were once 
 more in the streets, and I found myself saying in my 
 heart, " I would that evil man had not come to mar the 
 harmony of our evening. I would that so untoward a 
 thing had not happened."
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 THE MAIDS OF TAUNTON. 
 
 I DREAMED somewhat uneasy dreams all that night, 
 and woke with a sense of oppression on my spirit ; 
 but the bright sunshine streaming in at the windows, the 
 air of bustle and gaiety in the streets, the stir and activity 
 of the house, and above all the feeling that my lord the 
 Viscount was at hand to be waited on and considered, all 
 served to put me into a happier frame of mind. As 
 soon as I had performed some of my rougher duties, and 
 seen to Blackbird and the other horses — for the men were 
 as busy as ever with persons arriving to see the events 
 of the day — I got myself into my holiday doublet as on 
 yesterday, and went down to see if I could help the 
 Viscount at his toilet. 
 
 But he was already up and out of his room, and I found 
 him sitting in the parlour at breakfast, and my uncle 
 standing beside him, talking earnestly with him. As I 
 entered I heard these words spoken, — 
 
 " Thou hadst best go on as thou hast done hitherto, good 
 Master Inn-Keeper. None can say that thou art slack in 
 serving those who come from the Duke ; but there is no
 
 THE MAIDS OF TAUNTON. 251 
 
 need to put thyself forward in this matter. The less a 
 man meddles in these affairs the better it often is for him. 
 Do thy business with diligence, but make no profession, 
 and do nothing to draw attention upon thyself. So thou 
 mayest be safe in troubled days. The keeper of an inn is 
 better placed than many ; for none can well lay to liis 
 charge the sin of harbouring and entertaining rebels. A 
 man must abide by his calling ; and it were unreasonable 
 to expect him to inquire into the business and opinions of 
 all who come and go. Guard a discreet silence on these 
 vexed questions, and walk warily as thou hast done hitherto, 
 and thou mayest safely weather the coming storm. And 
 keep an eye upon that nephew of thine, that he adventure 
 himself not too nearly amongst the rebels. He has more 
 courage than discretion, that lad ; and it is sometimes safer 
 to cultivate prudence rather than bravery." 
 
 But as I came in at that moment and both saw me, the 
 Viscount stopped speaking, and smiled; whilst my uncle 
 gave me a knowing look and went out, leaving me to 
 finish waiting on the guest. 
 
 My lord, however, said nothing to me of what he and 
 my uncle had been discussing, but finished his meal in some 
 haste, saying that he must go to Captain Hucker's house 
 to see tlie Duke, and learn what the day's duties were to 
 be. I could gather from hints dropped by my lord that 
 he thought the Duke was wrong in not pushing more 
 resolutely forward whilst there was no enemy in his path. 
 In lingering first at one place and then at another he was 
 giving the enemy a better chance of mustering against him
 
 252 THE MAIDS OF TAUNTON. 
 
 before he had made himself master of one important 
 stronghold. 
 
 We men of Taunton thought much of our town ; but, as 
 the Viscount pointed out to me, it was useless for a garri- 
 son, since its walls and fortifications had been demolished. 
 Bristol now would be a valuable place, and it was said that 
 it would open its gates at once to the Duke ; but unless 
 he moved thither somewhat quicker, it was like enough 
 that Lord Feversham might bring up his troops and in- 
 tercept the Duke's on the way. 
 
 " If Fletcher had been with us, we should not be linger- 
 ing thus," quoth my lord, as he girded on his sword and 
 put on a plumed hat to-day instead of any head-piece ; 
 " but my lord Grey is all for tarrying and prudence, and 
 methinks that this prudence will end in disaster erelong." 
 
 So the Viscount went off down the street on foot, fol- 
 lowed by the admiring glances and the reverences of all 
 the people. He replied to these very courteously ; but I 
 was grieved that all the brave show at Taunton and the 
 welcome received did not make him more hopeful of the 
 result of the great rising. However, there was but little 
 time to think of these things, for already a mighty muster 
 of towns-folk was assembling about the open space at our 
 corner, and I well knew for what purpose they had thus 
 assembled, and was in no mind not to be in the foremost 
 rank of the spectators. 
 
 Will Wiseman came pushing towards me at the last 
 moment, wriggling himself through the crowd like an eel, 
 till he stood flushed and panting by my side.
 
 THE MAIDS OF TAUNTON. 253 
 
 '■'■ I would have come earlier," he said, " only I was called 
 upon by so many to read them the Declarations of the 
 Duke, which can be seen and read by all who know how. 
 I have been at it this past hour. They be never satisfied, 
 these good folks. As fast as one lot goes, another comes 
 up to hear. But I say, Dicon, what has happened to our 
 good friend and preacher Mr. Blewer ? He is as yellow 
 as a guinea this morning, as though all the gall in his 
 nature had got into his face. I never saw a more spite- 
 ful and evil countenance in all my life. He came down tlie 
 street, the peoj)le hooting him, albeit without offering him 
 any indignity ; and I asked him as he passed if it would 
 please him to hear the Duke's Declaration, since I had not 
 seen him at the reading in the Cornhill yesterday. He 
 gave me such a look as would have turned milk sour in 
 the pans, and he told me I should rue the day that I had 
 chosen to insult him. He is an evil hound, and methinks 
 he must be possessed of a devil. When the Duke comes 
 into his own, I hope he will rid the country of such pestilent 
 knaves. I would hang every one such at the cross-roads 
 in chains, to be a warning and example to their fellows." 
 
 I whispered to Will the story of last night ; to which 
 he listened with infinite relish, and slapped his thigh in 
 ecstasy to think how Mr. Blewer had been ejected from 
 Miss Blake's house by the Viscount. 
 
 " Marry, but he will do him an ill turn if he can," he 
 remarked, more gravely, at the end. " Dicon, I almost wish 
 I might make an end of that vile man. I verily believe 
 he will do one of us a hurt else."
 
 254 THE MAIDS OF TAUNTON. 
 
 But I shook my head. I could not counsel Will to 
 commit a crime, even to save ourselves from possible peril. 
 Perhaps he would meet the due reward of his evil ways 
 without any act of ours. 
 
 And now the clocks were striking ten, and all other 
 sounds were merged in the silence of expectancy, as upon 
 the last stroke the door of Miss Blake's house opened 
 slowly, and straightway there marched forth first the two 
 schoolmistresses, clad in such a fashion as was appropriate 
 to their years and calling ; and after them more than a 
 score of young maidens, all in white, headed by beauteous 
 Mistress Mary ; and each of these damsels bore in her 
 hand one of the colours wrought by their united skill. Now 
 at sight of this goodly procession the people broke into 
 loud cheering, for the thing was one in which almost all 
 had had a share ; and though the dainty needlework was 
 the handiwork of the maidens, yet the wherewithal had 
 been found by the towns-folk, and the colours were borne 
 by their own daughters and sisters and kinswomen : so 
 that it was no wonder the whole place had turned out to 
 see, nor that the appearance of the white-robed procession 
 should be hailed with such a shout of welcome. 
 
 Miss Blake came first, and she carried no colour, but a 
 small and curiously-bound Bible, and a naked sword with 
 a finely-tempered blade and a hilt set with gems. Mrs. 
 Musgrave waited till all the damsels had filed out, and took 
 up her place in the rear. She carried nothing; and the 
 seven-and-twenty colours were borne by seven-and-twenty 
 young maidens, amongst whom were Lizzie Simpson, who
 
 THE MAIDS OF TAUNTON. 255 
 
 looked blooming and intensely happy, Eliza Hucker, and 
 the Herring sisters, and many others whose names I knew, 
 albeit I will not set them down here, as they have no part 
 in my story. 
 
 Mistress Mary was by many years older than these other 
 damsels, most of whom were not aged more than ten or 
 twelve years. She walked alone at the head of the pro- 
 cession, just behind Miss Blake, whilst the others followed 
 in pairs behind her. Mistress Mary's dress was of some 
 soft silken texture, very daintily and dexterously garnished 
 with fair embroidery in silver. She wore a flowing veil 
 over her beautiful hair, and upon her feet were dainty 
 shoes of white embossed leather with silver buckles. 
 Amongst many fair and graceful maidens she was fairest 
 of all in her wondrous grace and dignity, and the golden 
 banner that she held took all eyes ; for not only were its 
 size and workmanship more imposing than the rest, but 
 the device of the crown and the letters J. R. drew forth 
 first the wonder and then the rapturous cheers of tlie 
 spectators, as Will Wiseman shouted out, " J. E. — Jacobus 
 Rex. Long Hve our new King James ! " And although 
 the people were half afraid to take up the cry them- 
 selves, yet they shouted might and main as the white- 
 robed throng moved onwards, and following close in their 
 wake, escorted them up to the door of Captain Hucker's 
 house, where it was well seen that their coming was 
 expected. 
 
 Gay as were all the houses in Taunton that day, it 
 seemed as though the climax of welcome had been reached
 
 256 THE MAIDS OF TAUNTON. 
 
 here. Flags floated from all the windows. Every window- 
 frame was wreathed with garlands or greenery. The 
 balconies were hung with crimson cloth. There was a 
 great triumphal arch over the door, and to-day there had 
 been laid down in the street before the porch one of those 
 great carpets which were beginning now to be brought by 
 merchants from the East, and which were said to cost 
 fabulous sums of money, and scarce to be seen save in the 
 houses of the nobility. 
 
 This carpet, however, made a little island as it were, 
 upon which the crowd did not dare to set foot, but stood 
 respectfully round to witness the proceedings in which such 
 keen interest was taken. 
 
 Upon the approach of the ladies, the Duke appeared 
 upon the top of the flight of steps leading up to the door, 
 and with him were assembled a number of his officers and 
 gentlemen, who stood behind him, but in view of the 
 spectators. Miss Blake stepped forward with her book 
 and her sword, and her maidens arranged themselves with 
 simple and unconscious grace in a semicircle round her. 
 
 I would that my memory would serve me as well in 
 recording the speech of the lady as it does in presenting 
 before my mind's eye the spectacle of so much youth and 
 beauty and virtue all gathered together to do honour to 
 the champion of a noble cause. But although I know that 
 the speech lacked neither in grace of diction nor in skill 
 of delivery, all that I can remember of it was that Miss 
 Blake besought the Duke's acceptance from his loyal town 
 of Taunton of these colours for his army, telling him that
 
 THE MAIDS OF TAUNTON. 257 
 
 every stitch had been set with a prayer for his success or 
 an aspiration for the cause of Hberty. And then when the 
 maidens had waved their banners, and the crowd had raised 
 such a shout as must I think have been heard a mile away, 
 she proceeded to present the sword and the Bible, saying 
 that it was for the sake of the true faith and liberty 
 to read the Word of God and study it each in the way 
 which was most acceptable and comprehensible that they 
 welcomed him here to-day as a messenger from on high. 
 She also added that with the sword he was begged to 
 defend the Bible, so that his loyal subjects and followers 
 might enjoy the blessings of peace, and cease to tremble 
 before the ever-increasing faction of Popery, which had 
 been raising its hydra head menacingly ever since the new 
 King had sat upon the throne. 
 
 There was another tremendous outburst of cheering at 
 that, and the Duke appeared transported by enthusiasm 
 and ardour. 
 
 Making a step forward, he met the lady half-way up the 
 flight, and taking from her hands (which he proceeded to 
 kiss with courtly reverence) the sword and the book, he 
 held both up before the eyes of the people and proclaimed 
 in a loud voice, — 
 
 " Brave men and my very good friends and citizens of 
 Taunton, I stand here amongst you pledged to a noble 
 cause ; and these two gifts which have been placed in my 
 hands are fitting emblems of the work which shall be done, 
 God helping the righteous cause. With this sword will I 
 fight for the liberties of all subjects of this realm. I come 
 
 (511) 17
 
 258 THE MAIDS OF TAUNTON. 
 
 now into the field with the set purpose to defend the truths 
 contained in this book, and to seal it with my blood should 
 there be occasion for it." 
 
 At the sound of these brave words women broke into 
 weeping and blessing, and men into lusty shouts and cheers. 
 
 " God save the Duke ! God bless and protect our noble 
 Duke ! A Monmouth ! a Monmouth ! " shouted the crowd. 
 
 The Duke bowed his thanks, saluted the lady once 
 again, and pressing to his heart the book, gave it rever- 
 ently into the keeping of one from the house, who carried 
 it indoors. At the same time the Duke's charger was 
 brought up just beyond the ring of white-robed maidens ; 
 and still holding the sword in his hand, he sprang gal- 
 lantly upon its back, whilst at the same time his gentlemen 
 stepped down and presented each his hand to one of the 
 maidens, who remained standing with the colours as before. 
 
 Lord Grey was the first, and he gave his hand to Miss 
 Blake, who was, in spite of her years, a personable lady, 
 with much grace of bearing, and with fine eyes and good 
 features. Lord Vere followed next, as his rank warranted, 
 and gave his hand to Mistress Mary, whose face was dyed 
 with a beautiful blush. Other gentlemen and ofiicers 
 followed, and each led by the hand one of the smiling 
 maids, all of whom looked brimming over with joy and 
 pride at the grandeur of their escort, and the brave show 
 that was being made. 
 
 The procession having thus re-formed, and being headed 
 by the gallant Duke, who kept his horse at a foot's pace, 
 and paraded slowly onward, so that the crowd might drink
 
 THE MAIDS OF TAUNTON. 259 
 
 its fill of the gay spectacle, proceeded leisurely onwards 
 through the streets in the direction of the meadows where 
 the troops had encamped for the night ; and when we 
 arrived there we found them all drawn up in companies, 
 presenting, in spite of all drawbacks in the matter of arms 
 and accoutrements, a right goodly and imposing show. 
 
 Colonel Wade had seen to this part of it, and had taken 
 care to have in the foremost rank those men who were 
 possessed of uniforms and proper arms, so that to our un- 
 accustomed eyes the whole rank and file of the great army 
 (for to us it looked mighty indeed) was as grand and as 
 gay as the band of gentlemen surrounding the person of 
 His Grace. 
 
 Three thousand men had come with the Duke to Taun- 
 ton ; but I think that five thousand must have already 
 assembled beneath his banner in those meadows. I know 
 that when he marched forth a couple of days later, it 
 was with an army seven thousand strong. Every hour 
 fresh men were pouring in, the militia deserting to him 
 as fast as opportunity permitted. Truly it was an in- 
 spiriting and invigorating sight that greeted our eyes as 
 we reached the meadow in the wake of the gallant pro- 
 cession of chivalry and beauty ; and when the Duke rode 
 from rank to rank, allotting the colours, and telling his 
 soldiers the story of how they had been made and pre- 
 sented, the shouts and cheers that rang forth will scarce 
 be forgotten by any that heard them ; and the maidens 
 received a right gallant thanksgiving from the soldiers, 
 albeit somewhat noisily expressed.
 
 26o THE MAIDS OF TAUNTON. 
 
 A great concourse had gathered from far and near to 
 behold the spectacle, and as I moved about the field my 
 eyes were attracted by the flutter of a white kerchief. 
 Looking more attentively at the owner of it (for it ap- 
 peared to me to be waved with a purpose, and that to 
 catch my eye), I saw beneath the closely-drawn hood, which 
 almost hid her features, the bright eyes of Mistress Mary 
 Bridges, albeit she was dressed in so homely a fashion, with 
 a long grey cloak covering her gown, that, seated on a 
 pillion as she was, behind a stout fellow who looked like 
 a countryman, I should never have known her had it not 
 been that I looked at her very closely. 
 
 Seeing that she had caught my eye, she waved her ker- 
 chief again, and I made my way up to her side as fast as 
 I could. 
 
 " Mistress Mary," I whispered, wonderingly, for I knew 
 her father to be a stanch supporter of the King in 
 London, " how come you hither ? " 
 
 " Hist, Dicon, thou wilt not betray me ! I knew not 
 how to keep away when all the world said there was such 
 a brave show to be seen here, and I knew well what it all 
 betided. I felt that I must see somewhat of it. I must 
 see the Duke with mine own eyes, else I should never rest 
 satisfied ; and so I sallied forth in my long cloak and hood, 
 and found my good foster-father going to the town. I 
 made him take me up behind, and here I be. Dicon, the 
 Duke is a right gallant gentleman, and I marvel not that 
 the people love him. I would fain raise a shout for him 
 myself. But yet I fear me that ill will come out of this
 
 THE MAIDS OF TAUNTON 261 
 
 day's gallant show. Dicon, I would whisper something in 
 thine ear." 
 
 I came yet nearer still, and Mistress Mary leaned down 
 to speak so that none could hear what was said, 
 
 " Dicon," she whispered, " when I hear them talk at home 
 of what is like to follow this rising of the people if the 
 King's troops are victorious, as my father says they will 
 be anon, my heart is heavy with fear for those I have 
 come to love in this town, and above all for my beautiful 
 and beloved Mary Mead. Dicon, thou knowest that her 
 banner is, of all others, like to give offence. It may be 
 that she will be in greater peril than the rest. But be 
 the peril what it may, I will give my right hand sooner 
 than harm shall befall her. Dicon, thou lovest Mary, dost 
 thou not ? " 
 
 " I would lay down my life to save her ! " I answered, 
 with sudden energy. " Twice over would I give my life — 
 once for love of her, and once for the love I bear my lord 
 the Viscount, whose heart is bound up with hers." 
 
 Little Mistress Mary eyed me with approval. She too 
 thought of the Viscount almost as I did, and regarded him 
 as a very proper lover for her beloved friend. 
 
 " Dicon," she went on in a low tone, speaking in my ear, 
 " thou dost know my home at Bishop's Hull, on the road to 
 Wellington ? " 
 
 " Yes, Mistress, I know it." 
 
 "Dost thou know the lane which leads into a thick 
 wood, and a very marshy tract some two furlongs before 
 you reach the gate to the house ? "
 
 262 THE MAIDS OF TAUNTON. 
 
 " Yes ; I have seen it, but never pursued it." 
 " My foster-parents have a cottage in that copse, so 
 cunningly hidden, and so surrounded by the marshy land, 
 that none save those who know the rights of the way can 
 reach it save with great trouble and difficulty. I lived in 
 that cottage for three years, my parents being absent, and 
 my good foster-mother as good as a mother to me. I 
 know every foot of the ground. My foster-mother will 
 do anything that I ask her ; and if peril should ever 
 menace my Mary, take her thither without delay. She 
 will be as safe hidden there as though the earth had 
 opened to swallow her up. I have spoken to her of it, 
 and she is ready and willing. No human foot ever in- 
 vades the environs of their cottage, and the good folks 
 themselves are retainers of my father, and safe from all 
 chance of harm. Remember that Mary will be safe there, 
 should harm come of this, should hurt menace her. It is 
 in part to tell thee as much, and to give thee this charge, 
 that I have made such shift to come hither to-day." 
 
 " Let me come back with you. Mistress Mary, and see 
 the place," I answered her eagerly, for after the look I had 
 seen upon Mr. Blewer's face only yesterday, I did truly 
 think that Mistress Mary might stand in need of an 
 asylum of refuge, even did the political storm pass by 
 without hurting her; and the notion pleased the little 
 lady well. I was on foot, but the distance was not great ; 
 and though the worthy countryman had to go into the 
 city on his master's errand (he had not come to see the 
 show, but had seen it, as it were, by an accident), he was
 
 THE MAIDS OF TAUNTON. 263 
 
 glad to put his young mistress in my charge (the Snowes 
 were well known and trusted throughout the countryside), 
 and get her safe out of the throng. So when he had set 
 her down a hundred yards away from the outskirts of the 
 press, he bid us adieu and rode for the town; whilst Mistress 
 Mary and I made our way by by-paths to the thick copse 
 standing in the marsh (now almost dry after the long 
 drought), and I was shown by what way the cottage could 
 be approached even in the wettest season. We were made 
 welcome to a homely dinner by Mistress Mary's foster- 
 mother, who listened eagerly to all my tale of the Duke 
 and the reception he had had, and promised to care for 
 and hide and befriend Mistress Mary Mead, should ever 
 the time come when she needed help.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " THE TA UNTON KING." 
 
 NOW although everything had looked so bright and 
 gay since the arrival of the Duke at Taunton, 
 and though his reception had been so cordial, and we un- 
 lettered folk began to think the cause already won, yet 
 there were signs which to better-informed minds were 
 ominous and discouraging ; and it was noticed even by 
 ourselves that from time to time a look of sadness would 
 cloud the Duke's face, whilst for a few moments he 
 would be lost in thought, and only rouse himself by an 
 effort to respond to the joyous cheering of the crowd. 
 
 And not to be further tedious, I may as well state at 
 once what was the main cause of this anxiety, and why 
 it was that even thus early a presage of coming disaster 
 seemed to fall upon the Duke. 
 
 When first it had been put into his mind to invade 
 England in the cause of liberty and justice, he had strenu- 
 ously refused, saying that he had had enough of the strife 
 of factions, and that since his father had left him no 
 charge, he would henceforth remain as he was, a private 
 gentleman, leading a private life in some foreign city.
 
 ''THE TAUNTON king:' 265 
 
 But he had been persuaded that half England would join 
 his standard if he did but show himself, that it was his 
 duty to assert his rights and stand forth as the champion 
 of the rights of the people ; and when the Earl of Argyll 
 had sailed for Scotland to stir up a rebellion there, he had 
 promised to follow to England in a few days, and gather 
 round him there all who would join the cause of liberty 
 and Protestantism. 
 
 Nevertheless he had passed his word to the Earl that he 
 came not as King, but as the supporter of the Common- 
 wealth, and that it was some such form of government that 
 he should establish were he to be successful. It will be 
 remembered that in the Declaration made first at Lyme, 
 and afterwards read in other places, it was fully stated 
 that he did not insist upon his title as yet, but left that 
 matter to be decided by a Parliament fairly chosen from 
 the people ; although he declared that he was a legitimate 
 son of the late King, and could prove as much should need 
 arise. 
 
 Directly upon his landing, as I have been told, there 
 were those about him who desired that he should cause 
 himself to be proclaimed King ; but he refused, saying that 
 it was contrary to his pledges and to his Declaration — which 
 no man could deny. 
 
 But many days had now passed, and instead of the 
 whole of the West Country flocking to him in a body, only 
 the humbler amongst the people had come forward. Not 
 one single gentleman with a following of servants and 
 retainers had placed himself under his standard. The
 
 266 " THE TA UNTON KING." 
 
 Viscount was the only man of rank who had joined him 
 since his landing, and he came alone and unattended, in 
 defiance of his father's wishes and conviction, and more 
 from personal desire to be quit of the perplexities of his 
 position than from sympathy for the cause. Rustics and 
 yokels came flocking in, as has been shown, and the militia- 
 men likewise by hundreds. But it was too significant a 
 fact that the gentry stood absolutely aloof ; and even Mr. 
 Trenchard, who had made brave promises beforehand, and 
 who was known to be forward in the cause of liberty, had 
 betaken himself suddenly to France — a thing which had 
 caused the Duke not a little discomfort and sorrow. 
 
 Soon after his landing, two messengers had come in hot 
 haste from London with the news that things were ripe 
 for a revolt there, and that Colonel Danvers was only 
 waiting for the signal of the insurrection in the West to 
 raise the whole city in the Duke's favour. This, together 
 with the expectation, everywhere rife, that Cheshire was 
 on the point of breaking into open rebellion, had cheered 
 his spirits greatly, as had also the brave reception he 
 had met on his route to Taunton. But nothing more had 
 been heard of the rising in London. Many of his fol- 
 lowers, who best knew the character of the man, told him 
 plainly that Colonel Danvers was a time-server and hypo- 
 crite, and that no reliance could be placed upon him ; whilst 
 as day after day went by and still no men of any mark 
 came forward, every person about him began to feel that 
 matters were growing serious. 
 
 I have to explain all this at some length in order to
 
 " THE TA UNTON KING." 267 
 
 make it to be understood why, after his declaration to the 
 contrary, the Duke at last permitted himself to be pro- 
 claimed King, to the great joy of the citizens of Taunton, 
 who had desired it from the very first. 
 
 It was urged upon him vehemently now that the reason 
 why the gentlemen stood aloof from his cause, even whilst 
 heartily hating and distrusting the reigning King, was 
 partly because they hated the name of Commonwealth even 
 more, and would not take up arms in any cause that did 
 not promise the continuance of the monarchical system ; 
 partly because, as things were now, there was too much 
 peril for his followers, and that in case of disaster they 
 were all dead men. 
 
 Now at first sight it may seem strange that such should 
 be the case. One might naturally suppose that the peril 
 would be greater to those who followed him (in the case of 
 defeat) if he had proclaimed himself King ; but men who 
 understood the law said that this was not so. And they 
 further explained their words to the unlettered by telling 
 us that there was a statute made in the reign of King 
 Henry the Seventh (who, it will be remembered, obtained 
 his crown by force of arms) sheltering all those persons 
 who should obey a king who was king de facto, as it was 
 termed, even though he should not be a king de juro. And 
 I understand by this that a king de facto is one who, like 
 the Duke, comes with a great following, and for the time 
 being proclaiming himself king, and being obeyed as one, 
 does exercise royal prerogative, although in law he may be 
 no monarch, and may never live to wear a crown. If
 
 268 " THE TA UNTON KING." 
 
 therefore those who obey such a king could shelter them- 
 selves behind this statute, it would naturally give men 
 courage to join the standard. For instead of being con- 
 sidered mere rebels following an obscure insurrection, they 
 would be following one who was for the time being their 
 king. 
 
 This is what was argued upon one side, whilst others 
 said that if the Duke once took such a step he would make 
 the breach between himself and his uncle irreconcilable, 
 and seal his own doom in case misfortune attended him. 
 But the Duke answered to such words that for himself he 
 cared nothing, that his desire in all things was to do what 
 was right and best for his followers, and that he would 
 abide by the counsel of the majority of his advisers. 
 
 There were other matters to discuss also to-day in the 
 council of war which was held after the grand spectacle 
 of the giving of the colours which I have described. It 
 was now known that the Duke of Albemarle was follow- 
 ing hard after the rebel army, and that he was either at 
 Wellington or not far away. Scouts had even come in to 
 say he was marching upon Taunton, but that had proved 
 untrue. The question arose as to whether the Duke's army 
 should march back and give battle to him as early as 
 possible, or march on towards Bristol, which, if once cap- 
 tured, would be a weighty prize in the hands of the 
 party ; for it would give him a basis of operations which 
 he never could have so long as no garrison town was in 
 his hands. 
 
 Whether what was decided was wise or the reverse, I
 
 " THE TA UNTON KING." 269 
 
 cannot say, having no knowledge of such matters ; but I 
 was told by the Viscount that evening, when he returned 
 to his quarters from the council, that it had been decided 
 to march in a northerly direction, and that probably the 
 move would be made on Sunday. It was now Friday 
 night, and when I asked why not to-morrow, since time 
 seemed of much importance in these matters, one of his 
 curious smiles passed over the Viscount's face, and he re- 
 plied significantly. 
 
 " To-morrow is needed for another matter. To-morrow 
 will give to us a new King James." 
 
 Then, with a thrill of intense excitement, I realized 
 what was about to happen, and I quickly ran out into the 
 streets to spread the news. It was known already in many 
 quarters, and the town was alive with citizens all crowd- 
 ing together and talking of the coming event. Nothing 
 but approval reigned in Taunton. We were proud to 
 think that our town would be honoured by being the one 
 in which the new King should be first proclaimed. Mis- 
 tress Mary Mead's banner, although her own workmanship 
 and design, did but reflect in its legend the feelings and 
 opinions of the citizens. 
 
 All night long the good folks were up, renewing the 
 wreaths in their windows, and adding to the festive ap- 
 pearance of their city. And when soon after break of 
 day the heralds went about giving notice that all loyal 
 subjects were invited to attend at the Market Cross in the 
 Cornhill to the proclamation to be made, the press of people 
 gathering there was almost greater than even upon the
 
 270 ''THE TAUNTON KlNGr 
 
 day previous ; whilst the windows which gave upon the 
 place were crowded to suffocation, and the city seemed 
 again to have gone mad with joy. 
 
 Several magistrates were there as on Thursday, wearing 
 their gowns, and striving to conduct themselves in such a 
 fashion as should give no cause of offence to either side. 
 I believe they were forced out of fear to be present, lest 
 they should be torn to pieces by the populace ; but it 
 was against the grain with many to appear, and as soon as 
 they were able they withdrew, and hid themselves in their 
 houses so long as the new King remained in the city. 
 
 The Duke was mounted upon his charger, and sur- 
 rounded by his small band of gentlemen, as usual. His 
 face was pale, I thought, and although he returned the 
 vociferous salutations of the crowd with his usual courtly 
 grace, I thought there was an air of anxiety and restless- 
 ness about him, and in my heart I doubted if he himself 
 desired this honour which was thrust upon him. 
 
 Places of honour near to the Duke and his cortege had 
 been reserved for Miss Blake and her white-robed maidens, 
 who appeared once more before the eyes of Taunton. I 
 noted that Viscount Vere shifted his position a little so that 
 he stood very close to Mistress Mary Mead, and I think 
 that they had some minutes of conversation together from 
 time to time. At any rate their eyes must often have met, 
 and I suppose that the language of the eyes is often full of 
 eloquence, and says as much as the tongue can do. 
 
 After a great blowing of trumpets and the usual pre- 
 liminaries, the proclamation was read in loud tones by Mr.
 
 ''THE TAUNTON KING." 271 
 
 Tyley, who stood upon the steps of the Market Cross to do 
 so ; and whilst he read a deep silence fell upon the listen- 
 ing crowd, who drank in every word with eager avidity : — 
 
 " Whereas, upon the decease of our Sovereign Lord 
 Charles the Second, the right of succession to the Crown 
 of England, Scotland, France, and Ireland, with the do- 
 minions and territories thereunto belonging, did legally 
 descend and devolve upon the most illustrious and high- 
 born Prince James Duke of Monmouth, son and heir ap- 
 parent to the said King Charles ; but James Duke of York 
 (taking advantage of the absence of the said James Duke 
 of Monmouth beyond the seas) did first cause the said late 
 King to be poisoned, and immediately thereupon did usurp 
 and invade the Crown, and doth continue so to do : We 
 therefore, the noblemen, gentlemen, and commons at pre- 
 sent assembled, in the names of ourselves and of all the 
 loyal and Protestant noblemen, gentlemen, and commons of 
 England, in pursuance of our duty and allegiance, and for 
 the delivering of the Kingdom from Popery, tyranny, and 
 oppression, do recognize, publish, and proclaim the said 
 high and mighty Prince James Duke of Monmouth our 
 lawful and rightful Sovereign and King, by the name of 
 James the Second, by the Grace of God King of England, 
 Scotland, France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith. 
 God save the King. 
 
 Proclaimed at Taunton, the twentieth day of June 1685. " 
 
 What cheers and shouts went up from the people as the 
 last words were read .'
 
 272 ''THE TAUNTON king:' 
 
 " God save the King ! " — " God save the King ! " Men 
 shouted themselves hoarse, women fell a-weeping, and 
 thanked God aloud amid their tears for sending them such 
 a deliverer. Children, held aloft in their fathers' arms, 
 flung posies and wreaths at the feet of the newly-made 
 King ; whilst Miss Blake, at the head of her pupils, stepped 
 forward to claim the privilege of being first to kiss the 
 hand of royalty. 
 
 All the maidens followed in turn, and the King, after 
 permitting each to kiss his hand, saluted them upon the 
 cheek, as was the custom of the day, though from royalty 
 a marvellous condescension. Then after the white-robed 
 procession of virgins had retired within their own doors, 
 followed by the cheers and good wishes of the people, the 
 Duke was beset by a loving crowd of men and women, all 
 desiring to kiss his hand and do homage to him ; whilst 
 from the church towers the bells pealed forth, and that 
 very day in the evening service he was prayed for as King. 
 Mothers with children afflicted by the King's Evil brought 
 them to him to be touched, and I heard that many were 
 thus cured in a few days, though I speak from hearsay 
 and not of mine own knowledge, having more to think 
 of than the matter of the children. 
 
 Our hearts were made glad to-day likewise by the 
 arrival of Colonel Basset, one of Cromwell's captains, who 
 came in with a company that he himself had raised. This 
 looked indeed as though good were to come out of this 
 step ; yet men said that the Colonel looked ill pleased 
 when he heard of the proclamation just made, being far
 
 ''THE TAUNTON king:' 273 
 
 more in favour himself of the setting up of a Common- 
 wealth. 
 
 Thus it may well be seen how hard it is to please all 
 men ; and every step gives offence in some quarters, how- 
 ever it may be desired in others. 
 
 Another man of some note who joined the Duke here 
 was one Colonel Perrot, from Southwark near London. 
 Men whispered of him that he had been concerned in tliat 
 extraordinary attempt of Blood's upon the crown and 
 regalia ; but as I know not the details of that story, and 
 as it has no concern with the present narrative, I will say 
 no more of it. Colonel Perrot was warmly welcomed, and 
 thought to be an addition to our staff of officers ; of which, 
 indeed, we stood in need, so many thousands of common 
 people having flocked to the standard at Taunton. 
 
 And now the Duke, being proclaimed King, and so 
 acknowledged throughout the town, sent forth almost 
 at once other proclamations which were eagerly read by 
 the people. The first set a sum of money upon the head 
 of the usurping James of York ; the second declared 
 the present Parliament a seditious assembly ; a third com- 
 manded all men to refrain from paying any taxes levied 
 by the Duke of York ; and a fourth declared the Duke of 
 Albemarle and many others rebels, and authorized all 
 loyal subjects to wage war upon them till they were 
 destroyed. 
 
 Each proclamation was received with enthusiasm and 
 joy by the people, and Will Wiseman was kept busy until 
 his voice gave out in reading them to all who desired to 
 
 (511) 18
 
 274 ■' THE TA UNTON KING." 
 
 hear. Such bold words seemed to augur success ; and as 
 we said one to another, the Duke would not make such 
 sounding phrases, nor breathe forth such threatenings and 
 slaughter, did he not know hiniself prepared to carry on 
 the war to a successful issue. 
 
 It was soon known also that our King had sent letters 
 both to the Duke of Albemarle and to Lord Churchill 
 commanding them to lay down their arms ; and we did not 
 doubt that tliis would greatly perturb and alarm those 
 generals, who must be by this time finding out the temper 
 of the people, and how little they could depend upon their 
 soldiers to fight against their new King. 
 
 But the day was not to be one of entire joy and triumph, 
 for as evening drew on there began to be some fresh com- 
 motion in the streets ; and running forth to see what it 
 might mean, I found people looking scared and grave, 
 whilst women began to cry out, — 
 
 " The Duke of Albemarle is coming ! We shall be 
 destroyed ! Our town will be demolished ! There will 
 be a terrible and bloody battle ere nightfall. God have 
 mercy on us all ! " 
 
 And amongst these cries I heard several whisper, as 
 though half ashamed of their own words, as well indeed 
 they might be, — 
 
 " Would to Heaven he had not come ! We had at least 
 peace before. Now no man can say what will become of us !" 
 
 In a state of some alarm and more indignation — for it 
 seemed to me a coward trick thus to speak because the 
 hour of danger might be near ; but then women have no
 
 ''THE TAUNTON king:' 275 
 
 stomach for fighting, and perliaps mean not the half of 
 what they say — I ran towards the field where the army 
 was encamped, thinking I should get the news soonest 
 there. As I did so I met my lord the Viscount coming 
 towards the town, looking grave and thoughtful, but with 
 no haste or urgency in his manner ; and when his eye fell 
 on me he paused and smiled. 
 
 " Is there to be a battle, my lord ? " I cried, panting in 
 my haste. " In the town they say tlie Duke's army is upon 
 us. The people seem in a sudden fright. Hath aught of 
 hurt befallen ? " 
 
 " Nothinof of o-rave moment," answered the Viscount. " A 
 few men of ours have been killed not far from Chard, 
 whither they had gone to reconnoitre. They were fallen 
 upon by a body of the enemy's horse, and some were 
 killed, whilst the rest rode back thither post-haste. But 
 the Duke and Lord Churchill are generals of no mean 
 valour, and their close proximity to the town has decided 
 the Duke — nay, I must now say the King " (and a smile 
 passed over his face that was beyond my power to read) 
 — " to leave Taunton on the morrow, and seek to reach 
 Bristol as soon as possible. If we can find entrance there 
 and make it our own, all may go well for the time ; 
 but if we fail in that, it were better to face our enemies 
 now at once, than go forward with them hanging on our 
 rear, and Lord Feversham and Colonel Kirke in front." 
 
 " But, my lord, how can we fail, with all the country 
 flocking to the King's standard ? " 
 
 " My good Dicon," answered the Viscount, " dost thou
 
 276 ''THE TAUNTON king:' 
 
 not know that already we have exhausted our supply of 
 arms, and the recruits who would fain join our muster 
 have perforce to be sent back, because we have nothing 
 wherewith to equip them ? Hast not heard yet that one 
 of our frigates sailed away with Colonel Fletcher, after 
 the mischance at Lyme, and that the other two have been 
 seized upon by our enemies, and such arms as they con- 
 tained have all been lost to us ? If gentlemen with armed 
 retainers will now join us, they will be gladly welcomed ; 
 but for unarmed country yokels — why, we have enough 
 and to spare of such. We are now forced to send them 
 back to their own homes ; nor do I think the cause loses 
 much by so doing. It is not with such forces as these 
 that the kingdoms of the world are won." 
 
 " But others will join now that the Duke is made King!" 
 I cried eagerly, having heard some of the reasons for that 
 step. 
 
 " We shall see," answered the Viscount, with his peculiar 
 smile. " At present it seemeth to me that we have suc- 
 ceeded in disgusting the advocates of Commonwealth and 
 republican opinion without winning those whom we have 
 sought." 
 
 " But, my lord, it is but a few hours." 
 
 " Right, Dicon. I speak not from what has happened — 
 or not happened — in these few hours, but from my own 
 knowledge of the world I come from. A King proclaimed 
 in Taunton forsooth — at the head of five thousand scythe- 
 armed rustics ! A wondrous thing indeed ! A right royal 
 personage ! Dicon, Dicon, methinks the Duke of Monmouth
 
 ''THE TAUNTON king:' 277 
 
 might have won some following, for men are deeply dis- 
 contented with the rule of the tyrant James ; but they 
 will not raise a finger for a puppet-king — the King of a 
 rabble of low-born knaves and varlets ! I speak not these 
 words of scorn of mine own self ; I do but rehearse what 
 will be the words in the mouths of those gentlemen from 
 whom such brave things are expected. Ferguson, Wade, 
 Hucker — they know no better ; but my Lord Grey should 
 have lifted his voice against it. It is a blunder we can 
 never repair now ; but methinks it will be the death-blow 
 to the cause." 
 
 " My lord, my lord, say not so ! All Taunton is rejoic- 
 ing. All Taunton will stand by His Majesty to the death ! " 
 
 "■ Is that so, Dicon ? thou wilt see erelong. I think it 
 would not take much misfortune to turn Taunton back to 
 her grudging loyalty to the present King." 
 
 " O my lord, Taunton has ever been true to the cause 
 of liberty ! " 
 
 " Ay, but not to the cause of monarchy. There is the 
 rub. The King is now pledged to rule as a monarch ; and 
 methinks Taunton has been dreaming all this while of a 
 Commonwealth. 
 
 " But, my lord, think how they greeted the King to-day!" 
 
 " True, carried away by love for him, and the excitement 
 of the hour. Well, Dicon, thou mayest know thy towns-folk 
 better than I do. Yet I misdoubt me if Taunton will long 
 lift her voice for her new-made King ; and I would that 
 there had been less of pageant within her boundaries, and 
 that it had been some other place whieli liad given him such
 
 2 78 ''THE TAUNTON KING." 
 
 royal honours. I would that those coloui-s had never been 
 worked and presented in Taunton, and that my Mary had 
 had no hand in the matter." 
 
 " Dost think harm will come to her, my lord ? " I asked 
 anxiously. 
 
 " If this rebellion, or revolution, or what you good folks 
 choose to call it, come to naught, I verily believe that a 
 signal vengeance will be taken by the outraged monarch ; 
 and if so, the town of Taunton, thou mayest be sure, will 
 be one to win for herself the first place in the royal dis- 
 favour. Dicon, hast thou ever seen the Lord Chief -Justice 
 Jeffreys ? He came on circuit not so long since in the 
 West. Didst thou see him then ? " 
 
 " No, my lord," I answered, slightly shivering at the 
 name of one who was held in terror and execration by all 
 dissenters in the West of England. " It so chanced that 
 when he came I was on a visit to my father's farm. I 
 heard of him when he had gone." 
 
 " Dicon," said the Viscount gravely, " if thou hadst seen 
 that man, thou wouldst have felt that thou hadst seen the 
 devil incarnate. If ever the spirit of a devil looked out of 
 human eyes, it does so from the eyes of that man. And, 
 Dicon, he stands high in the King's favour. If a cruel and 
 bloody piece of work has to be done, it will be my Lord 
 Chief -Justice Jeffreys who will be sent to do it. When I 
 think that my peerless Mary may in the days to come be 
 brought face to face with that monster, my blood freezes in 
 my veins with horror. Dicon, I am too deeply implicated 
 now to be of use to her, and she may need a protector in the
 
 ''THE TAUNTON KING." 279 
 
 days to come." He broke off suddenly, biting his lips, as 
 though to subdue an inward agitation, and then he suddenly 
 began again, " Boy, I think that thou dost love me ? " 
 
 " My lord, I would die for you if I might save you from 
 peril ! " And in truth I meant what I said, for it is easy 
 to think and speak of death when the peril is far off". It 
 is another matter when it seems to be looking you in the 
 face ; but then I did not know that, and spoke in all sin- 
 cerity. 
 
 My lord smiled, and put his hand for a moment on my 
 shoulder — a thing which sent the blood tingling through 
 my veins. 
 
 " I ask none such sacrifice as that, good Dicori," he said. 
 " My life is of none such great value ; yet I believe in thy 
 good-will, boy, and I thank thee for it. Thou lovest me, 
 I know well, and methinks that thou dost love my gentle 
 lady too ? " 
 
 " My lord, I would die for her too," I answered, not able 
 to think of any other way of expressing the devotion I felt. 
 
 " Good," he answered ; " to die in such sweet service would 
 not, methinks, be hard. Yet I would not have thee die, 
 good Dicon, but live to serve and perchance to save her. 
 Boy, I lay this charge upon thee; and if thou lovest me 
 thou wilt perform it faithfully, in so far as it may be pos- 
 sible. When the issue of this insurrection is known, and 
 if that issue be disaster to this new King's cause, and that 
 peril threaten Taunton and Mary, and I am unable to help 
 or succour her, then do thou watch over her with all such 
 care and diligence as is possible to thee. Guard her from
 
 28o " THE TA UNTON KING." 
 
 harm if such a thing may be ; and strive at all risk to 
 save her from the evil power of Mr. Blewer, if he should 
 seek (as is like enough) to advantage himself by the win- 
 ning of her hand and her fortune when there be none to 
 defend her from him. It may not be possible, Dicon, that 
 thou canst do this ; yet thou hast a shrewd wit, and thou 
 livest so nigh at hand that thou mayest be able to contrive 
 what another could not do. Wilt thou at least take this 
 charge from me, and seek to fulfil it by every means in 
 thy power ? " 
 
 And with a heart swelling with pride and devotion I 
 answered, " I will, my lord."
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ON THE WAR-PATH. 
 
 " T T NCLE, I cannot help it ! I will do nothing to injure 
 >^ any who bear my name ! I will change that 
 name if needs be — but I must go ! I cannot stay behind, 
 knowing nothing of what is happening save what the 
 voice of rumour whispers. I must see and know for my- 
 seK. None shall be hurt through me. But prithee let 
 me go. It may be that I will be able to send thee word 
 of things that thou wouldst fain know. Hinder me not, 
 good uncle, for needs must that I fare forth with the 
 King ! " 
 
 My uncle regarded me reflectively and gravely, as I 
 poured forth these words early upon the Sunday morning 
 that had so little of Sabbath stillness in the air. I had 
 been up and about already, although the day was yet 
 young. I had heard that the camp was to be broken up 
 forthwith, and a march made towards Bridgewater. The 
 thought of seeing the King and all his soldiers march away, 
 and of remaining behind in the city a prey to all sorts 
 of fancied terrors, and in suspense as to what might be 
 happening elsewhere, seemed intolerable to me. The fever
 
 2 82 ON THE WARPATH. 
 
 of war had got into my blood, and though I knew I could 
 never be a soldier, I felt that I must needs see war, or I 
 should die of disappointment. 
 
 Perhaps my uncle felt sympathy with me ; more pos- 
 sibly he thought that such a hot partisan of the new-made 
 King was more of a peril to him in his house than follow- 
 ing upon the path of the soldiers in that mob which 
 always waits upon the steps of an army. There few 
 would know or take note of me. Here I was known by 
 pretty well every one in the city. If I was resolved upon 
 throwing in my lot with the army, I might be in less peril 
 myself and cause less danger to others there than in the 
 town of Taunton. So after steadily regarding me for 
 a while, and revolving the matter slowly in his mind, after 
 his fashion, he answered, — 
 
 " Well, well, well, a wilful lad will go his own way. 
 Thou must e'en choose thine own path, Dicon. I will not 
 keep thee here against thy will, but I counsel thee not to 
 run into greater danger than needs must be. We may all 
 be in peril of our lives for all I know ere this matter be 
 settled ; and where the greater danger lies Heaven knows 
 and not I. Wherefore take thine own way, but use all 
 prudence and caution. Thou hast a good head of thine 
 own, and quick wits when thou dost use them aright. 
 See that thou walkest as warily as may be in the perilous 
 days that be like to fall upon us." 
 
 " I will be careful, I will be wary," I answered eagerly. 
 And in great excitement and joy at having so easily won 
 my uncle's good-will, I ran to tell Meg and Will Wise-
 
 ON THE WAR-PATH. 283 
 
 man, and then to groom and feed Blackbird, and decide 
 what to take with me in my saddle-bags ; for I knew 
 little as to what might lie before me, but desired to be at 
 charges with no man, and to pay for everything that I 
 might need. 
 
 Meg, whose heart was almost as much in the cause as 
 mine, gave me some crown pieces out of her store for my 
 needs, and my aunt did the like. I had money of mine 
 own too, and some of this I took ; yet I would not dip too 
 deeply into my hoard, because I had a feeling that I must 
 keep it for other needs than mine own. Should evil days 
 fall upon us, and should I have cause to keep the pledge 
 I had made to my lord the Viscount, I might need the 
 golden guineas I had earned bit by bit by my letter-writ- 
 ing, and so forth, and had stored away so carefully these 
 two past years in a secret receptacle of mine own. The 
 silver coins I took with me, but the golden guineas I left 
 where they were. A few groats would go far to keep me ; to 
 say nothing of shillings and crowns, of which I had many. 
 But gold might prove a peril, and I would none of it. 
 
 Out into the streets I went next, to find the citizens in 
 hot discussion together, and not all of them well pleased at 
 what was doing. There were many amongst them who 
 had confidently hoped that before the Duke left he would 
 have raised up fortifications around the city, have built up 
 the ancient walls, and left there a garrison to keep and 
 defend the place for him. 
 
 Colonel Hucker was the centre of this group, and he 
 was speaking warmly in favour of this thing.
 
 284 ON THE WAR-PATH. 
 
 " What use to the cause is a city without walls ? " he 
 was asking. " Why, if we march out to-day, the Duke of 
 Albemarle can march in to-morrow, and none can let or 
 hinder him ! " [And in very truth that was just what did 
 happen, for the new King's army left on Sunday afternoon, 
 and the Duke of Albemarle was in the city on Tuesday, 
 albeit he made no long stay, but continued his pursuit of 
 our army towards the north.] " What we want is to leave 
 behind us garrisoned cities holding for his Majesty. If 
 one King can pull down fortifications, surely another can 
 build them up ! Taunton has held her own gallantly in 
 times of war, and has stood notable sieges in a good cause ; 
 nor has the temper of her citizens changed. Give her but 
 walls and towers and a few good soldiers to lead and direct 
 her citizens, and she would hold out as gallantly as ever. 
 What do you say, fellow-townsmen ? Shall not Taunton 
 be restored to her former glories ? Can she not do even 
 as she did before ? " 
 
 " Ay, ay ; that she can." — " Give us walls and soldiers, 
 and we will show the usurping tyrant what Taunton can 
 do." — " Where is the King ? Let him but give the word, 
 and every man among us will become for the nonce a stone- 
 mason, that we may begin to build our walls afresh ! " 
 
 Such were the cries of the citizens, and such their en- 
 thusiasm in the cause. There is nothing so catching as 
 the martial fever, except it be the panic which sometimes 
 sets in afterwards. But though the zeal of the city was 
 great, the young King could not be brought to see the 
 matter as Colonel Hucker sought to show it him. He said
 
 ON THE WAR-PATH. 285 
 
 there was no time to build walls — which was true enough 
 — and that he could not spare men to garrison it if it 
 were fortified even in a most hasty and rapid way. 
 
 Colonel Hucker, who had looked to be made captain of 
 the garrison and Keeper of the City, was not a little dis- 
 appointed, and all Taunton with him ; but there was too 
 much right on the King's side for us to urge the matter 
 beyond a certain point ; and as the Viscount said to me, as 
 we rode out at last towards Bridgewater, — 
 
 " If we can once secure Bristol, there we shall have a 
 fortified city at our command forthwith. That is the 
 task we should set ourselves to do without delay. Would 
 that we were already before its walls ! These delays A\ill 
 be the undoing of us, I fear. Already has the King in 
 London had ten days in which to muster and send forces 
 out west. Had we been quicker, we might have had a 
 fortress of our own already. Heaven send there be no 
 more such tardiness ! " 
 
 My Lord Vere was one of those men who seem to be 
 soldiers born. He had not had the training and experience 
 of some of the others, including our new King himself, yet 
 it seemed to me that if his counsels had but been followed 
 from the first we should have been marching to victory 
 now, and making the usurper shake upon his tottering 
 throne. As we rode along I could not but tell my lord of 
 the witch we had visited, and of what she had told us. 
 I hoped that it might give him more heart (for I knew by 
 many signs that he thought the enterprise well-nigh des- 
 perate), but he only gave me one of his curious smiles.
 
 286 ON THE WAR-PATH. 
 
 " A wise woman truly, Dicon, to foresee more blood than 
 glory in this undertaking." 
 
 " Nay, but, good my lord, she said that the usurper 
 would die in exile. How may that be, if our gracious 
 King be not victorious ? " 
 
 " It may be that thou wilt live to see such a thing one 
 day, Dicon," answered my lord, " and yet not see King 
 Monmouth on the throne. Knowest thou not that there 
 be men who have already fixed their eyes upon the Prince 
 of Orange, husband to the King's daughter, as a possible 
 saviour and deliverer ? The witch knows more of such 
 things, I trow, than thou dost, boy, in spite of all thy 
 learning." 
 
 " The witch hath a familiar who tells her what the 
 future will bring forth," I answered quickly, for I liked 
 not to hear my learning compared with that of an ignorant 
 old woman, who would be nothing without her familiar. 
 And at that my lord smiled again, but said nothing ; and 
 indeed I forgot the whole matter next moment, for we 
 saw approaching us from behind, in hot haste. Lord Lons- 
 dale himself, whose face wore a look of such anxiety and 
 pain that I was quite sorry for him. 
 
 Now it so chanced that the Viscount was not with his 
 company at this time. He had been detained by some 
 duty which the King had set him to do, and had not been 
 able to leave the camp so soon as the soldiers. This was 
 the reason why, when he came riding after us a little 
 later, he had drawn rein upon seeing me on the outskirts 
 of the crowd of followers, and had paused to ask what I
 
 OJV THE WAR-FAT/I. 287 
 
 did there, and to gently chide me for my folly in leaving 
 a safe shelter for the uncertainties of war. 
 
 It was whilst we were riding together thus in the rear, 
 having by this time left behind the crowd who pressed 
 after us on foot — Will Wiseman amongst them, to see the 
 last of us — that we heard the sound of these hasty pursu- 
 ing horse-hoofs, and turning round beheld Lord Lonsdale 
 riding apace after us. I thought the Viscount's face 
 changed and hardened slightly as he saw his father ; but 
 he drew rein and waited till he came up. 
 
 " My son, my son," began Lord Lonsdale, in whose face 
 and voice anger and anxious fear seemed to be struggling 
 together, " what madness, what folly is this ? A son of 
 mine to be in arms with a rebel Duke, daring to lay claim 
 to the crown of England ! Vere, Vere, you are not like 
 these ignorant rustics whom any one can delude by a 
 specious tale. You know that England will never submit 
 to see a base-born Bang sitting upon the throne. Be the 
 present King never so much the tyrant, he rules by his 
 hereditary right ; and you know that this young Duke has 
 no more chance of being England's King than thou hast 
 thyself. Boy, thou canst not look me in the face and tell 
 me that thy heart is in the cause ! I know thee too well 
 for that ! " 
 
 Lord Vere made no attempt to meet this challenge, 
 although he looked his father unflinchingly in the face for 
 all that. 
 
 " Sir," he said, in a low, resolute voice, " your remon- 
 strances come too late. I have unsheathed my sword in
 
 288 ON THE WAR-PATH. 
 
 the cause, be it a good or an evil one ; and honour forbids 
 me to sheathe it again until that cause is either lost or won. 
 You know well who and what drove me forth to break a 
 bondage that had become unendurable. If I give you pain 
 now, it is only because you have driven me to it ! " 
 
 " Boy, boy, what folly is this ! Why didst thou not tell 
 me how thine heart was bound up in that maid ? " 
 
 " I told you many times, sir, that my heart was so 
 bound up with Mary Mead's that death itself would be 
 preferable to life without her. I said all that a man could 
 say, and my reward was that I was made by strategy to 
 appear in public as the plighted husband of Mistress Edith 
 Portman. It was your hand that severed the bond of 
 mutual confidence which once existed between us. I 
 have no more to say. I follow in the steps of one to 
 whom I have done homage as King." 
 
 " Vere, Vere, Vere ! " cried the agitated father, almost 
 in tears, as it seemed to me, his face pale with agitation, 
 " only come back with me, only give up this mad folly, 
 and thou shalt wed the girl when thou wiliest. I will say 
 no word against it. Anything is better than that thou 
 shouldst put a halter round thine own neck. Come but 
 back with me, and all shall be as thou desirest ! " 
 
 There was sadness now in the Viscount's face — sadness 
 and even a little bitterness — but no sign of wavering. 
 
 " Sir, it is too late," he answered. " Hadst thou spoken 
 those words but ten short days ago, I would gladly have 
 followed thee home, and given to thee a sweeter daughter 
 than son has ever given to father yet. But it is too late
 
 ON THE WAR-PATH. 289 
 
 now. Mine honour is pledged, and not even for the sake 
 of my duty towards you nor my love towards the lady 
 can I lay aside that honour and break my plighted 
 word. Nay, were I to do so my lady would be the first 
 to cry shame upon me. She is a soldier's daughter, and 
 holds honour in more esteem than life itself. A deserter 
 from the cause so near her heart would find no favour with 
 her. She might have let love win the day had I not taken 
 up arms for this young King — " 
 
 " King ! " breathed Lord Lonsdale, in a tone only just 
 audible, but full of bitter scorn ; " knowest thou what he 
 is called — he and his army — by all loyal and honest folk ? 
 ' King Scott and his vagabonds ' is the name he goes by. 
 My son, my son, to think thou shouldst be following such 
 an one as he ! " 
 
 The Viscount's face wore a look half sad and half 
 bitter — like his voice when he spoke. 
 
 " Yes, it seemeth strange sometimes even to me ; but 
 there be strange shifts in a man's life, and a Viscount may 
 sometimes come to be ranked amongst vagabonds. Father," 
 and here his tone changed and became softer, " believe me, 
 I am not ungrateful for your care and thought for me, 
 and it pains me to give you pain. But I cannot go back 
 now. I would things had been different with me ; but 
 since they are not — since I have been driven to this step — 
 I cannot and I will not draw back. If yoxa lose your only 
 son by a traitor's death, it will be a grievous soi-row to you, 
 I wot well. But even if things go ill with us, there will 
 be many that may hope to escape with life. Perchance I 
 
 (511) 19
 
 290 ON THE WAR-PATH. 
 
 will be one of these. For my Mary's sake as well as yours 
 I shall make a battle for my life." 
 
 Lord Lonsdale would have stayed to reason longer, but 
 his son shook his head as though to say that argument was 
 useless, as indeed it was when both father and son thought 
 really alike upon the question, and only a sense of honour 
 bound Lord Vere to the cause he never professed to believe 
 in with his heart or soul. 
 
 " Farewell, father," he said softly, and put out his hand ; 
 but the Earl drew back with a look of such pain as I shall 
 not soon forget. 
 
 " I may not touch the hand of a rebel," he said ; and so 
 father and son parted with more bitterness and sorrow than 
 I like to think of even now. 
 
 My lord was very grave and silent for a long time after 
 this, as indeed he well might be, but presently rode on 
 ahead of me to join the army. 
 
 As for me, I could please myself what I did and what 
 pace I travelled at. The infantry had gone on in ad- 
 vance that morning, and had covered the distance well. 
 I thought that they would reach Bridgewater easily by 
 nightfall, and I decided that for my part I would stop 
 for the night at my own home and tell all the news 
 there. 
 
 I was a little depressed by what I had heard between 
 Lord Lonsdale and his son, and perhaps it had slightly 
 damped my enthusiasm in the cause. I began to see that 
 war could be a very hideous and evil thing, and I almost 
 found it in my heart to wish that the Viscount had consented
 
 ON THE WAR-PATH. 291 
 
 to return with his father, and marry Mistress ]\Iary ]\Iead 
 forthwith, thus saving both (as I trusted it would) from 
 all future perils. I knew that I loved and honoured liim 
 for his words, and for ranking honour above life and 
 happiness, and I well knew that could Mistress Mary have 
 been there she would have upheld him with all the earnest- 
 ness and enthusiasm of her nature. I was resolved that 
 she should one day hear the story, and know what a noble 
 heart she had won ; but just for the moment I was sorrowful 
 and sad, and I thought that the welcomes of my family 
 would prove a pleasant diversion for my grief. 
 
 Nor was I mistaken. I found all the house in a great 
 stir, my mother more hot and bustling and excited than I 
 had ever seen her ; for it seemed that the Duke (I find it 
 hard to say King as I should ; wherefore I think in the 
 future I will still call him the Duke, although for many 
 days we all of us gave him the royal title, and were proud 
 and glad to do so) and his company had paused at the 
 farmstead, and had asked refreshment there. His handsome 
 face and courteous ways had won all hearts. My mother 
 and sisters could talk of nothing but his beauty and grace. 
 They had refused all payment for what they had set before 
 him, and he had kissed my mother ere leaving, and set her 
 all in a flutter of excitement. To have been kissed by a 
 King was an honour which none of her friends or relations 
 had ever received. She felt lifted into a region beyond that 
 of her daily life. 
 
 I was pounced upon for news, and made to talk the 
 whole of the day and far into the night — a thing very
 
 292 ON THE WAR-PATH. 
 
 foreign to our home ways — so that when at last I gained 
 my couch I slept as soundly as a dormouse, and was 
 ashamed to find the sun high in the sky when I awoke. 
 
 Although my parents and brothers and sisters inter- 
 meddled not with such troublous matters as the rightful 
 succession of Kings, and so forth, their hearts were all for 
 the gallant young Duke, and I received a handsome ad- 
 dition to my small stock of money from my father, who 
 bid me good-speed on my journey and a safe and prosperous 
 return. All the country side in these parts believed that 
 the cause of the Duke would be crowned with glory and 
 success ; and it was amusing to hear their stories as to 
 how they had evaded giving any help, and put hindrances 
 in the way of those who were on the royal side, but how 
 they did everything to speed the cause of the Duke. 
 
 Blackbird was somewhat heavily laden as we started 
 forth to Bridgewater, for my mother was in sore fear lest 
 I should not find enough to eat on the road, and she would 
 fain have hung all manner of things around my saddle, 
 had I not declared that I should be the laughing-stock 
 of all the army. 
 
 Then with many adieus I rode off, and was not long in 
 finding my way to Bridgewater, where, as I have before 
 stated, I had another uncle with whom I was familiarly 
 acquainted. 
 
 It really seemed to me as I rode into the town that 
 Bridgewater had striven to outdo Taunton in the welcome 
 she gave the Duke. I heard that already he had been 
 proclaimed King there; that the proclamation had been
 
 ON THE WAR-PATH. 293 
 
 read in great state, the magistrates in their gowns stand- 
 ing by, and, as I also heard, not unwillingly either. Flags 
 were flying, and windows and balconies were decked as in 
 our town, whilst the faces of the people looked as gay and 
 happy as though no such thing as doubt or fear existed. 
 
 I made my way with all speed to my uncle's house, 
 which I found as busy as was like to be on such a day. 
 My kinsfolk had scarce time to give me a welcome ; but I 
 set about making myself of use to them, and in so doing 
 picked up many a piece of news of a welcome nature. 
 
 It seemed that although the recruits were still of the 
 lower class of the people, much money had been collected 
 for the cause in this place, and that the Duke and his 
 ofiicers were in better spirits on that account, and also 
 because of the warmth with which they had been welcomed. 
 
 The citizens and common people were beginning to think 
 scorn of those above them, who showed themselves so 
 backward in the good cause, and to whisper amongst them- 
 selves upon the subject. 
 
 " We wonder the gentlemen come not in," they began to 
 say. " But we will show them that we can do the work 
 without them ; and then when we are the masters we will 
 have their estates ! " 
 
 That evening, as I wandered through the streets of 
 Bridgewater, I suddenly met Lord Vere walking rapidly 
 and hurriedly, with a preoccupied look upon his face. 
 Seeing him thus thoughtful, I was drawing aside — for I 
 feared to presume upon that kindness which he had ever 
 shown me — when he suddenly saw me and paused.
 
 2 94 ON THE WAR-PATH. 
 
 " Ha, Dicon ! " he said, " I was just wondering where 
 thou werfc to be found. I want speech with thee, boy." 
 
 I was at his side in a moment, eager and flattered by 
 his words. 
 
 " The matter is this, Dicon," continued my lord, speaking 
 rapidly and in a low voice : — -" Thou knowest enough of 
 matters in the camp to understand that it is of the greatest 
 moment for us to win Bristol. If we fail there, I see 
 naught for it but to be destroyed between the two armies 
 which are marching upon us — the Duke of Albemarle in 
 our rear, and Lord Feversham and perchance Lord Churchill 
 (for there are contrary reports brought in daily and 
 hourly) in front, or marching from the eastward. We 
 hear that the people of Bristol are anxiously awaiting us ; 
 but even of this there seems no certainty, for they say, too, 
 that the Duke of Beaufort with a large body of troops has 
 recently come into the city to hold it for the King — the 
 King in London, Dicon — and that we shall find it a tough 
 nut to crack. All agree in saying that if once we can get 
 possession of it we shall find arms and money and provi- 
 sion in abundance, and shall have achieved the first step 
 towards a lasting success. But the question is whether we 
 may find entrance there, and if so what will be the wisest 
 plan of attack ; and there be few men here who know the 
 city and have friends therein who may be trusted." 
 
 " They say Colonel Wade is from Bristol," I remarked ; 
 and the Viscount nodded assent. 
 
 " He is ; but he cannot be spared from the counsels of 
 the Duke. In fine, Dicon, what I have ofiered to do is to
 
 ON THE WAR-PATH. 295 
 
 ride alone, or with but one ti'usty servant at most, into 
 Bristol myself, to see certain men of the city with whom I 
 have some acquaintance, and to learn how matters be there. 
 I am then to return and advise the Duke what he should 
 do ; for never was man so beset before with counselloi's all 
 advocating different views, and sure never had general 
 such a strange company of captains under him, scarce a 
 man of them trained to war, and some scarce knowing how 
 to handle arms ! " 
 
 " You are going to Bristol then, my lord ? " 
 " Yes: I shall start with the first light of dawn to-morrow, 
 which will be shortly after three o'clock ; and I have sought 
 thee, Dicon, to know if thou Avilt be mine esquire for the 
 nonce and ride with me. That black pony of thine will 
 carry thee bravely and well, as I know ; and there be few 
 of the steeds our men have of v^rhich I could say the same. 
 Thou hast no air of martial valour to raise suspicion. I 
 shall but appear like a traveller upon the road with my 
 servant behind me. I think we shall not be in danger's 
 way till our errand is done, and — " 
 
 " My lord, I would follow you to the world's end, be the 
 dangers never so great ! " I cried, my heart swelling with 
 pride that he had made choice of me out of all the company 
 in that great army. " I have been longing tliis many a 
 day to do some service either for you or for our gracious 
 young King. Let me go with you. I will serve you as 
 no servant would, and lay down my life for you if need be." 
 He smiled at my protestation, and answered kindly, — 
 " I trust that may not be needful, good Dicon ; but if
 
 2 96 ON THE WAR-PATH. 
 
 thou wilt thou shalt serve me in this thing. Canst meet 
 me then here in this spot by three of the clock to-morrow 
 morning ? Good ! I shall look for thee. See to thy steed 
 to-night, for we must travel with all speed. I shall strive 
 to reach Bristol to-morrow, and as early in the day as the 
 distance will permit." 
 
 " I will not fail you, my lord," I answered proudly, my 
 heart beating high within me. " And shall we return to 
 the army when you have fulfilled your errand ? Shall we 
 see the fight when the foe is before us ? " 
 
 " Truly I think we shall, Dicon," answered my lord with 
 a smile. " The enemy seems in small haste to attack us ; 
 but whether that be a good or an evil sign I wot not. 
 Yes, boy, I mean to be in the thick of that fight whenever 
 it does take place ; " and his eyes shone for a moment from 
 beneath their bent brows with the battle light which the 
 thought of action brings into the faces of all true soldiers. 
 " I too would bear my share in that fight, as I see thou 
 wouldst too. But I doubt not we shall be in time for 
 that. It is not fighting, it is this delay, these pageants 
 and proclamations, which sicken me. Would we were 
 intrenched before Bristol now, doing and daring all, in- 
 stead of trusting that some great thing will come to us. 
 Well, boy, thou and I will see what is like to be our fate 
 in that city. To-morrow before sunrising ; and Heaven 
 give us a good journey ! "
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 IN PERIL IN A STRANGE CITY. 
 
 OF our long day's ride from Bridge water to Bristol I 
 do not purpose to speak in detail, being anxious to 
 get on to more stirring scenes ; and yet it was upon this 
 day that I began to understand somewhat more cleai-ly the 
 nature of the enterprise on which we were embarked, and 
 to see that the progress of the Duke was not much longer 
 to be a march of uinnixed triumph. 
 
 As we pursued our journey, sometimes along tlie roads, 
 sometimes across open tracts of country, where Blackbird's 
 cleverness and sagacity gave us great help in picking our 
 way, we encountered bands of stern-faced men riding along 
 with an air of purpose — men clad in such armour as was 
 worn by regular soldiers, and showing in their air and 
 bearing a martial bravery which was greatly lacking in 
 the ranks I had lately seen. 
 
 These men looked at us with sharp glances as they 
 passed ; but our appearance was so harmless that nothing 
 was said to us of a disquieting character. Sometimes we 
 were asked if we had seen aught of " King Scott's army ; " 
 and though the gilje in the voice of the questioner made
 
 298 IN PERIL IN A STRANGE CITY. 
 
 my cheek flame, my lord would answer quietly enough 
 that he believed it to be encamped somewhere near to 
 Bridgewater. 
 
 Once we journeyed some little distance with a party of 
 these men. The commanding officer rode with the Viscount 
 in front, and a couple of the troopers, who were greatly 
 taken by Blackbird, and would fain know his history, came 
 and rode beside me. I learned from them that they were 
 on the way to Bristol to join the garrison there. They had 
 been sent by the Duke of Albemarle, who was advancing 
 upon Taunton, but had had to make a wide circuit to 
 avoid the army of " King Scott " at Bridgewater, and were 
 glad to fall in with travellers upon the waste of moorland, 
 being but little acquainted with the country. 
 
 I asked them why they spoke of the Duke of Monmouth 
 as " King Scott ; " and they laughed, and said that he had 
 forfeited his right to the title of Duke by his act of high 
 treason. They told me that since his marriage, when quite 
 a lad, he had taken the name of his noble wife, wanting 
 one of his own, and that that name was Scott. They 
 jeered and gibed at him and his feeble insurrection in a 
 fashion that made my heart beat fast with mingled wrath 
 and fear, and kept me in constant dread of betraying my- 
 self by some unguarded word. But for my lord's sake I 
 strove for patience and discretion; and being accounted 
 but a boy, and a hunchback to boot, I misdoubt if any 
 words of mine would have been taken seriously by the 
 troopers who rode for a time with us. 
 
 Still I was glad when they left us ; and though my lord's
 
 IN PERIL IN A STRANGE CITY. 299 
 
 face was the graver after they had gone, he did not tell 
 me aught that had passed betwixt hiin and the captain. 
 Indeed a heavy rain began falling soon, which, though 
 sorely needed by the country after the long drought, was 
 not a pleasant thing for travellers, and made us wrap our- 
 selves in our mantles and draw our hats over our brows, 
 and so pick our way with care and pains. 
 
 It had long been dark, and the rain was pouring down 
 steadily and pitilessly, and our good horses were growing 
 weary and jaded before the lights of Bristol flashed through 
 the night, cheering us into a better pace than we had 
 been able to get out of the horses for the past hour. The 
 road too became better, and our heaiis revived within us ; 
 but still I can remember little of our arrival at that great 
 city, I was so dazed and wearied and confused by the long 
 journey and the strangeness of everything about me. 
 
 There were a halt and a parley at the gate ere we got 
 in, but my lord seemed to have no great trouble in obtain- 
 ing entrance ; and soon we found ourselves at a snug little 
 hostelry, where there was good accommodation to be had 
 for both man and beast, and where we were soon seated at 
 a table set before a grand fire, the damp rising in clouds 
 from our wet garments as we buckled to over our trenchers 
 and ate as only men do who have fasted many hours, and 
 travelled far to boot. 
 
 Our host waited himself upon us, many of his people 
 having already gone to bed, and he was full of the re- 
 bellion, and the excitement prevailing in the city. He was 
 very cautious for a while in telling us what was the feeling
 
 300 IN PERIL IN A STRANGE CITY. 
 
 within the walls ; but my lord had a way with him which 
 quickly won the confidence of those with whom he spoke, 
 and by-and-by I woke up from the doze into which I had 
 fallen to find our host whispering many things to my lord 
 with an air of eager secrecy. He said that the people 
 were very discontented with the present King and with 
 the Parliament, with the way in which justice was ad- 
 ministered, and, above all, with the spirit of persecution 
 which was springing up. 
 
 " If the Duke had but landed here or marched here 
 straight," continued the man, in a husky whisper, " the 
 town would have been his almost without the striking of a 
 blow. But now His Grace of Beaufort has come in with 
 the regulars, and they say the Earl of Feversham is close 
 at hand, and may be looked for to-morrow or the next day. 
 What can the citizens do when the iron hand of the army 
 is at their throat ? If only he had come sooner ! " 
 
 Interesting as all this was to me, I was too weary to 
 listen to more, and in fact was taken with such a fit of 
 shivering that my teeth chattered in my head, and it was 
 with much difficulty that I dragged myself up the stairs to 
 bed, pulled off my wet clothes, and crept in there. My 
 lord came himself to see me, and brought me a hot spiced 
 posset, which, as soon as I had drunk it, sent me ofT into a 
 sounder sleep than I think I ever slept before ; for when I 
 awoke again I found that the next day had slipped quite 
 away, and that it was evening of Tuesday, and I had lain 
 abed like a log when I had meant to be up and about after 
 any business my lord might give me to do.
 
 AY PERIL IN A STRANGE CITY. 301 
 
 I arose in a great shame, and finding my clothes dried 
 and brushed by my bedside, I dressed with what speed I 
 might, and went below. 
 
 The room was filled with people of the lower sort, all 
 talking together in excitement and heat. I sat in a corner 
 and ate a piece of bread whilst I listened to all that was 
 being said, and strove to gain knowledge of what had 
 happened during the day. 
 
 One thing I heard which troubled me much. Lord 
 Feversham had entered the city with a large body of 
 troops — two hundred and fifty horse-guards, as I learned 
 later. But there was more than this ; for I heard, too, 
 that the bridge over the great river Severn had been 
 broken down by the Earl's men at Keynsham, so that it 
 should be impossible for the Duke of Monmouth's army to 
 approach the city. 
 
 This was very bad news for me, and, as it seemed, for 
 the people also. In this place, at least, there was no hesi- 
 tation as to which rule was preferred — that of the Popish 
 King on the throne, or that of the champion of liberty 
 and Protestantism come to wage war upon him. If men 
 spoke with bated breath of the coming deliverer, it was 
 not because they were half-hearted in the cause ; and 
 here and there a voice would be raised to ask why, if all 
 the citizens were agreed, the soldiers could not be out- 
 numbered and overawed ? why the will of tlie people 
 should not prevail over some few thousands of hired mer- 
 cenaries, who at heart most like did not love the King 
 better than the towns-folk ?
 
 302 IN PERIL IjV a STRANGE CITY. 
 
 These high sounding-words were taken up and passed 
 from mouth to mouth ; but yet I could .see that none knew 
 how concerted action amongst the citizens could be begun 
 now that the town was guarded by soldiers and a close 
 watch set about the walls and even in the streets. Yet 
 as the night drew on other men kept dropping in, and it 
 was whispered that the Duke of Monmouth was after all 
 approaching ; that some of the horse had already reached 
 Pensford ; that another day might bring them beneath the 
 walls of Bristol ; and that then would be the moment for 
 all the city to rise. 
 
 I listened with beating heart and straining ears to all 
 this, wondering what the truth of it might be, and if 
 indeed the city would open its gate to our new-made King. 
 Presently I ventured to enter into conversation with some 
 of those nearest to me, and told how I had been in Taunton 
 when Monmouth had been proclaimed King. This excited 
 great interest in the minds of those about, and I was 
 made to tell the story out aloud, whilst the people listened 
 with mouths agape, and I could see by their eager faces 
 how they longed to see him proclaimed here in Bristol. 
 
 Presently, however, some soldiers came marching in and 
 ordered wine. They looked about upon the people with 
 an air of suspicion and severity which quickly changed the 
 aspect of the assembly. First one group and then another 
 broke up and went out, and in a short time there were 
 scarce half-a-dozen persons left. 
 
 " Your good customers seem mightily afraid of a buff 
 jerkin and a musket, landlord," remarked one of the soldiers
 
 IN PERIL IN A STRANGE CITY. 303 
 
 as he drained his goblet. " Have a care that you harbour 
 not seditious malcontents in your liouse, or it may chance 
 to go ill with you one of these days." 
 
 And then the soldiers clattered out, having probably 
 done what they came to do ; whilst the landlord's face, 
 which had been pale and submissive in presence of the 
 troopers, grew dark with fear and hatred. 
 
 " Those cursed soldiers ! " he hissed beneath his breath. 
 " A man goes in fear of his life and his pi-operty when the 
 city is beset with them." 
 
 " Heaven send us a speedy deliverer ! " breathed another, 
 with clinched hand and frowning brows. " All the city 
 would rise to greet him, I verily believe — soldiers or no 
 soldiers ! " 
 
 Late at night the Viscount came in, and told me some- 
 thing of how his day had been spent. It was quite true 
 that the citizens were as much in favour of the Duke here 
 as in the other places where we had seen tlie welcome they 
 gave him. But the presence of a strong garrison and a 
 determined Commander put a very different face upon the 
 matter in this fortified town. The garrison liad possession 
 of the walls and citadel, and could turn their arms upon 
 the towns-people as well as upon the foe if tliere were any 
 tumult or rising. Some were in favour of stirring up a 
 revolt within the walls so soon as the Duke should be 
 without, engaging the soldiers in defence of their gates 
 and ramparts ; but men who knew as much of war as tlio 
 Viscount were doubtful whether sucli a rising would be 
 attended with success. There was something in the pres-
 
 304 IN PERIL IN A STRANGE CITY. 
 
 ence of regular troops which acted as an effectual check to 
 burgher risings. A panic quickly set in at the sight of 
 cold steel and the remorseless action of trained soldiery. 
 Forty years of peace had weakened the warlike traditions 
 of the past generation who remembered the civil war. 
 
 " Citizens talk, and speak great swelling words, but too 
 often they run like sheep at the first sight of pike and 
 musket," said my lord ; and when I remembered how the 
 crowd in this very room had dispersed like a mist before 
 the handful of troopers who had come into their midst, 
 just after having spoken such great things of defying the 
 army, I could not but think that he was in the right. 
 
 Next day I too wandered about the streets of the great 
 city, full of curiosity and amaze at what I saw. I had 
 never been within a fortified town, and the frowning walls 
 and gateways struck me with awe and amaze, as did also 
 the great quays and wharfs where vessels larger than any 
 I had ever seen lay at anchor. And nothing would con- 
 tent me but that I must go aboard of one, which I did 
 through the kindness of a sailing-master with whom I got 
 into talk ; and I spent two wonderful hours amongst the 
 shipping, both hearing tell of the wonders of the deep, 
 and learning something of the desire amongst seafaring 
 men for a better King upon the throne, and the hope that 
 the Duke of Monmouth would " come into his own." 
 
 I asked whether, if there w^ere to be fighting around 
 Bi'istol, there were any ships that would help the cause of 
 the Duke by firing upon, or in any way injuring, the 
 soldiers ; but he did not seem to think that there were any
 
 IN PERIL IN A STRANGE CITY 305 
 
 vessels in the harbour that could be trusted to do any 
 good that way. There had been a close watch kept on all 
 vessels coming into the river, and some had been sent to 
 the right-about, and not suffered to make the harbour. 
 
 Towards sundown I retraced my way towards the 
 hostelry where we were lodging, when I was suddenly 
 brought up short by a most unwelcome sight. I was 
 aware that a pair of dark sinister eyes were steadily re- 
 garding me ; and looking to see whose they might be, I 
 encountered the malevolent gaze of the Rev. Mr. Blewer, 
 whom I believed to be far away in Taunton. 
 
 I can scarce say why it was that this gaze troubled me 
 so, but I felt a sensation as though some person had walked 
 over my grave (as the saying is) ; and I was not made any 
 more comfortable by seeing that Mr. Blewer immediately 
 beckoned to a sentry who was standing near and pointed me 
 out to him, though what words he spoke I could not hear. 
 
 I found myself trembling all over as I walked onwards, 
 and I railed at myself for proving nothing but a coward. 
 I was relieved when I got in to find the Viscount there 
 before me, to whom I told what I had seen. 
 
 But he only smiled, and said, — 
 
 " I am well pleased that that pestilent fellow is far away 
 from Taunton and from Mary. I doubt if he would gain 
 speech of her now were he never so near ; but I would 
 sooner he were anywhere else than there." 
 
 " But can he do hurt to me or to you, my lord ? " I 
 
 asked, rather anxiously ; and was answered by a smile of 
 
 amusement. 
 
 (511) 20
 
 3o6 IN PERIL IN A STRANGE CITY. 
 
 " It is like enough he might if he set himself to it ; but 
 we shall not be here much longer. I have found out all I 
 came to discover ; and if it be true, as men say, that the 
 Duke will be at Pensford to-night with his whole army, 
 we will join him early and give him the intelligence he 
 seeks. Thou hadst best go to thy bed early, Dicon, for 
 this may be the last night for many that thou wilt have 
 a bed to sleep in. Are our horses in fettle for the road 
 to-morrow ? We must be astir right early, and leave the 
 city with the dawn." 
 
 " The horses are as well as ever they were, my lord ; 
 tliey have been shod afresh, and well fared and cared 
 for. They will carry us another fifty miles to-morrow if 
 needs be." 
 
 " Nay, it will be but a short way we need take them ; 
 but perchance they, like ourselves, will fare only badly for 
 a while. Time will show — time will show. Get thee to 
 bed now, Dicon, and be ready for the start to-morrow." 
 
 I went to bed, little dreaming of any further adventure 
 that night ; and I suppose I had slept for some hours, 
 when I was awakened by such a tumult in the street 
 below as made me spring up in a sudden fright, and I 
 heard men shouting out in every key and tone, — 
 
 " The Duke ! the Duke ! He has come ! he has come ! 
 God be praised ! Our deliverer is here ! " 
 
 Although there was no moon in the sky, in which the 
 rain-clouds still hung heavily, albeit it was not raining 
 that night, my room was almost as light as day with a 
 red glare that spoke of fire. I was up and into my
 
 IN PERIL IN A STRANGE CITY. 307 
 
 clothes faster than I can write all this down, and I dashed 
 across to my lord's room, to find it already empty — he 
 having been still up and dressed when the first shout was 
 raised, so that he was in the streets before me. 
 
 Down I rushed, all the household being awake and 
 alarmed, and the door standing open like half the doors 
 in the town, as I hurried along not knowing whither I 
 went, but only agog for news. 
 
 The people were all running and shouting, and the great 
 palpitating glare in the sky lighted the whole city, and 
 gave a weird brilliance to the strange scene. All the 
 time the streets were echoing to the cry, — 
 
 " The Duke ! the Duke ! To arms, citizens, to arms ! 
 The Duke has come ! Down with tyranny and Popery ! 
 Down with the usurper ! A Monmouth ! a Monmouth for 
 the people ! " 
 
 " Where is he ? What has happened ? Where is the 
 Duke ? " I asked, first of one and then of another. At 
 first none heeded me, but others taking up the question, 
 we began to get answers bit by bit. 
 
 " He is here ! He is coming ! That is the beacon light 
 to bring him ! Perchance he is beneath the walls ! He 
 may be entering the city even now ! Hark ! is not that 
 the sound of arms ? He is coming ! he is coming ! Heaven 
 be praised, our deliverer is at hand ! " 
 
 The people seemed to have gone well-nigh mad. I never 
 saw such a sight in my life as the streets of this city with 
 all the men and women swarming out, shouting, weeping, 
 crying, praying, and the great red cloud swaying over us
 
 3o8 IN PERIL IN A STRANGE CITY. 
 
 in the black sky, and at last the steady tramp of mailed 
 troopers swinging along down the wide thoroughfare. 
 
 " The soldiers ! the soldiers ! Pray Heaven it be the 
 Duke's men ! " shrieked the women. But the next moment 
 the cry went up, " The King's troops ! the King's troops ! 
 Have a care, citizens ! Hist ! hist ! " 
 
 They came swinging along with their great pikes men- 
 acingly pointed at the crowds, which dispersed and fled 
 before them ; whilst at intervals a halt was called, and a 
 voice from their midst rang out in a threatening word of 
 warning, — 
 
 " To your beds, citizens ; to your homes and your beds. 
 The Duke of Beaufort makes it known through all the 
 city, that if there be any rising this night for the rebel 
 Duke of Monmouth, he will fire the town about your ears 
 in a hundred places at once. Take your choice, men of 
 Bristol, take your choice. Either disperse in quiet to your 
 homes, or see yourselves, your houses, and your children 
 burned before your eyes ! " 
 
 A horrified silence fell upon the people as these words 
 were heard ; and only one woman dared to raise her voice 
 to ask, " But where is the Duke of Monmouth ? " 
 
 " Ten miles away if a step, woman, and with a swollen 
 river without bridge 'twixt him and Bristol. — To your 
 homes and your beds, good people, if you wish to save 
 yourselves and your city to-night." 
 
 Away swung the soldiers, to give their dread message 
 in other places; and away to their homes scuttled the 
 cowed citizens, led by their trembling wives ; whilst news
 
 IN PERIL IN A STRANGE CITY. 309 
 
 came that there were twenty companies of foot drawn up 
 in RedclifFe Mead, ready at a moment's notice to march 
 through the streets and fire the rebellious city if it should 
 prove troublesome. Another report said that the fire was 
 in the river ; that a ship there had caught light either 
 by accident or by design ; and that had it not been high 
 tide, with plenty of water in the harbour, so that other 
 vessels could sheer ofi", there might have been a fearful 
 destruction amongst the craft lying there. 
 
 " Some miscreant of the Monmouth faction did the 
 damage," said one party of soldiers parading the streets to 
 keep and enforce order. " Spies from the rebel camp have 
 been seen prowling about the streets to-day, and along 
 the wharfs. Let us but catch them, and their heads will 
 adorn the city gate by the time the day dawns." 
 
 At these words I shrank into the shadow of a doorway, 
 with my heart thumping against my ribs as though it 
 would burst out of them. I did not doubt for a moment 
 that I was reckoned as one of these spies, and perhaps my 
 lord for another. If Mr. Blewer had seen him he would 
 not forget it, and would take advantage of any incident 
 to raise a tumult against him. I realized the fact that 
 we stood in no small jeopardy so long as we remained 
 in Bristol ; and my first thought was to seek the shelter 
 of the hostelry, to get ready our horses, and then strive 
 by what method we could best escape from those environ- 
 ing walls. It was a terrible thing to think of having to 
 pass the sentries if we were under suspicion. But I 
 trusted that my lord, who knew the city and had friends
 
 3IO IN PERIL IN A STRANGE CITY. 
 
 there, would have some plan for escape ; and to go home 
 and await him there seemed the best and wisest course to 
 pursue. 
 
 I wished the streets had been a little more full now — 
 that the citizens had not been so easily cowed and scared 
 back to their homes ; then I should have had a better 
 chance of slipping through the crowd and making my way 
 unseen. Still, as it was, one of the sides of the street 
 was in deep shadow, and I was flitting warily along in 
 it, when suddenly I heard a sound in front like that 
 of shouting and pursuit. The next moment round the 
 corner, as if with wings to his feet, came my lord the 
 Viscount, hatless, and with his doublet half torn off his 
 back, his breath coming in deep gasps, his hair streaming 
 in the wind, looking like a golden cloud where the red 
 firelight touched it. 
 
 The moment I saw that sight, before the pursuers had 
 rounded the corner, I sprang out upon him, as one who 
 joined the hue and cry. I felt as though every muscle in 
 my body had suddenly turned to steel. I seized him by 
 the hand, and darted with him down a narrow entry that 
 I had noted that day in coming up from the river, 
 
 " My lord, my lord ! this way, this way ! " I gasped in 
 his ear, not knowing whither we were speeding, but per- 
 ceiving that we were in a labyrinth of small back streets 
 which might baffle pursuit for a time. We fled onwards, 
 although I was certain that I had heard a hoarse cry 
 raised from behind, — 
 
 " There goes the other of them i Now we shall have
 
 IN PERIL IN A STRANGE CITY. 311 
 
 them both ! After them ! they cannot escape ! After 
 them, men ! ten pounds to the man that brings them, dead 
 or alive ! " 
 
 I do not think my lord heard, his breath was coming 
 in such deep and laboured gasps. He let me turn and 
 double whither I would ; and I think that I had the 
 greater skill to baffle pursuit, having a more lively fear 
 in my heart, perhaps, and knowing something of the ways 
 of wild things when running for their lives. 
 
 But still I could hear cries and shouts following us, and 
 that word of evil omen, " The spies ! the spies ! " and I 
 wondered whether we should be able to escape them after 
 all, when we suddenly dived down a dark entry, and were 
 brought up short by a house that stood at the end, block- 
 ing all egress, and as it were enclosing us in a trap. 
 
 " Heaven help us, we are lost ! " I cried in despair, 
 realizing that to return the way we had come would 
 probably throw us into the very arms of our pursuers, 
 who had scattered hither and thither, and could be heard 
 coming nearer and nearer. My lord spoke no word, being 
 indeed past speech, but I saw his hand go to the hilt of 
 his sword, which he still wore, and I knew that he at 
 least would sell his life dearly. But then all of a sud- 
 den a door behind us opened cautiously, and a woman 
 looked out. 
 
 " Come in, come in quick ! " she said. " This way ! 
 along this passage — mind the holes in the floor — and up 
 yon stair. Go up and up and up to the top, and out upon 
 the leads. There's an open trap ; but ye can shut and
 
 312 IN PERIL IN A STRANGE CITY. 
 
 bolt it, and give yourselves a few moments' grace. There's 
 a mile of leads up there, and spouts and gutters leading 
 from place to place. I'll keep them here in parley as 
 long as I can. Hide yourselves somewhere in the holes 
 or behind the chimney-stacks. Men have hidden away 
 there before now and escaped. If ye be from Monmouth's 
 army, ye shall not die in Bristol town if Jenny can save 
 you." 
 
 " Heaven reward you ! " I cried, as I darted along the 
 passage and up the stairs, my lord after me ; but he paused 
 to ask the woman if she ran no risk herself ere he would 
 go (which shows the difference there is between gentle 
 blood and blood like mine ; for I thought only of my own 
 skin, whilst he had thought to spare for her), and I heard 
 her words come clear and mocking, — 
 
 " They shan't hurt me — nay, not a bit of it ! I'm too 
 well known for that. Not a man of them would lay a 
 hand on old Jenny ; and I'll say I was knocked down by 
 a pair of insolent, swaggering fellows, who have made their 
 way out of yon window at the back. Some will go up to 
 the leads for all that, but some will stay below and search 
 the courts behind. I know the ways of them ; and if 
 there be but two or three to follow you, slay them one by 
 one as they slip and scramble over the roofs. Oh, it is rare 
 sport, it is rare sport ! I have seen the likes of it before." 
 
 The woman's uncouth speech and mocking laugh baffle 
 description. I almost shuddered at her words whilst 
 hurrying up the rotten stairs and pushing open the trap- 
 door at the top. The next minute we were both out in
 
 IN PERIL IN A STRANGE CITY. 313 
 
 the free air upon the leads, with the fading glow of the 
 fire very near at hand ; and we bolted down the trap and 
 made it as firm as we could before we spoke a word. 
 
 " At least we have a chance of our lives now, Dicon," 
 said my lord ; " and if we have to lay them down, we will 
 at least sell them as dearly as may be." 
 
 He drew his sword half out of its sheath, and his eyes 
 glittered in the glow of the fire. I felt a curious tlirill 
 run through me as I heard and saw him, and I felt that 
 to-night I was to receive my baptism of blood.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 
 
 FOR the moment we were safe, but only for the 
 moment. From what the old woman had said, 
 we knew that our pursuers would soon be after us ; and 
 there was another peril of which I had not thought till 
 my lord's voice spoke in my ear, — 
 
 " If the woman has played us false, we may be in a 
 trap from which there is no escape. But at least it was 
 certain death to remain there." 
 
 I felt a cold shudder run through me as I said, — 
 " I do not think she was tricking us, my lord." 
 And he answered in the same low voice, — 
 " Neither do I ; but such things have been before. We 
 must be on our guard. Walk warily, Dicon. These 
 leaden roofs are treacherous. Yet what a labyrinth they 
 form. Methinks we can baffle pursuit yet ! See, lad ! we 
 are not far from the river. It may be we shall make shift 
 to find our way out from the city by water. Canst swim, 
 Dicon ? " 
 
 " Ay, verily ; better than I can run." 
 
 " Good ; yet thou didst run manfully just now with
 
 A BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 315 
 
 those hell-hounds after us. Dicon, thou kuowest that our 
 enemy Mr. Blewer is in the town ? " 
 
 " Ay, my lord." 
 
 "It was he who set them on at me for a spy. He 
 thought to have rid himself thus easily of a rival and 
 a foe. It may be he will do so even yet ; but if I die 
 to-night, I sell my life dear ! " 
 
 He spoke through his shut teeth, and I felt the strange 
 quiver, that was half like fear and half like exultation, 
 run down my spine again. All this while we were rapidly 
 picking our way along the leads and roofs, lighted by the 
 glow of the burning ship upon the river, which I had no 
 time to stay and look at, as I fain would have done ; 
 for the question of life and death was paramount with us, 
 and it was no moment for pausing to admire the blood- 
 red river like a flaming mirror, nor the strange fantastic 
 shadows cast by the leaping flames. We were glad of the 
 light for making our own way amongst the leads and 
 chimney-stacks and along narrow parapets, where a false 
 step would have been destruction ; but all the while our 
 ears were strained for the sound of hammering and pursu- 
 ing footsteps, and we knew that as soon as we heard them 
 we must crouch down in some of the many deep niches 
 and hiding-places of that strange region, else would the 
 brilliant light lead to our instant discovery. 
 
 All the while we moved my lord kept casting his eyes 
 hither and thither, and at last I heard him exclaim, — 
 
 " Hist, Dicon ! they are after us. And here is the very 
 place for us. In with thee, boy ! There is room for thee,
 
 3i6 A BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 
 
 I trow. I will follow and guard the entrance. He shall 
 pay dear who seeks to hale us thence." 
 
 My lord spoke through his shut teeth, and I was quak- 
 ing all over as I looked about, yet could see nothing like 
 a hiding-place. But the Viscount's eyes had been sharper 
 than mine, and the next moment he pushed me gently but 
 firmly into a narrow, narrow niche between two great 
 chimney-stacks — a long black crevice filled with masonry 
 at the farther end, looking like a mere slit in the wall, 
 and in which, unless I had tried, I would not have 
 believed that I or any other man could stand. But the 
 crevice widened a little after I had pushed myself into it ; 
 and it was in the deepest of deep shadow, for the dark 
 chimney-stacks rose high above our heads, and the narrow, 
 narrow aperture by which we had squeezed ourselves in 
 faced away from the river, so that not a single shaft of 
 light crept into our retreat. 
 
 I drew a gasping breath of relief as I found myself at 
 the far end of the niche, with ample room to turn round 
 and move my arms ; and I said to my lord, " Surely we 
 are safe now." And he made answer, " Unless they know 
 the place, perchance we are ; but even so it will go hard to 
 oust us. Methinks I could hold the entrance against a 
 score of enemies, and run every one of them through as 
 he approached." 
 
 And in truth only one man could approach the place at 
 a time, as I saw very well ; and it made me think of the 
 story I had read in Roman history of the passage of the 
 bridge that was kept by Horatius and his two supporters.
 
 A BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 317 
 
 The Viscount was to me as great a hero as any in the 
 pages of history or romance, and well could I picture him 
 holding this place against the onslaught of a hundred foes. 
 
 But the next minute all thoughts save those of a 
 personal nature were lost in the overwhelming trembling 
 fear which assailed me as I heard the sound of hurried 
 tramping all along the leads, voices calling one to the 
 other, and brutal threats shouted out to the accompani- 
 ment of brutal laughter. 
 
 Although the heavy masonry in which I was enclosed 
 hindered me from catching every word, yet I could well 
 follow the drift of what was said, and well did I under- 
 stand that a long rope and a short shrift was tlie best we 
 could hope for were we caught. Once I heard a soldier in 
 passing say to his comrade, — 
 
 " The clergyman promised a liberal i-ewaixl to whatever 
 man would show him the head of the dainty gentleman. 
 We'll have him and get the reward. I'll run liim tlirougli 
 with my own sword — I've no pity on a spy." 
 
 All the place seemed alive with searching soldiers, 
 shouting one to another — sometimes bawling out that they 
 were here or there, sometimes cursing loudly at having 
 been deceived by a shadow. Some declared they saw 
 them getting down by a spout, and a rush would be made 
 to this side or that. Others vowed they liad got away 
 from this block altogether, and would be found elsewhere ; 
 and they would fall to cursing this region of house-roofs 
 and chimneys, which it seemed had favoured the escape of 
 fugitives before now, as indeed the old woman had implied.
 
 3i8 A BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 
 
 I cowered against the wall, quaking in every limb. I 
 must needs tell the truth, even if I am dubbed coward for 
 it. Sometimes the voices were so near that it seemed as 
 though we must be discovered ; then again they would 
 move further off, and I began to breathe once more, till 
 some fresh footstep again brought my heart into my 
 mouth. I felt then as if anything would be better than 
 to be trapped like this without hope of escape ; but when 
 the footstep had passed by again, I felt thankful for the 
 protection of the friendly niche, which plainly was not 
 known to the soldiers. 
 
 Gradually the sounds of pursuit died away. Voices 
 angry and disappointed called one to another that we must 
 have taken to the lower roofs, or that old Jenny had been 
 right in saying we had got out by a window, and had 
 not taken to the leads at all. Cursing and swearing, the 
 men appeared to draw off, and I was just about to approach 
 nearer to my lord, who had remained all this while close 
 to the entrance of our retreat, his drawn sword in his 
 hand, when I was deterred by the sound of a new footfall 
 coming steadily onwards. This footfall did not pass by 
 our niche, and against the lightness of the sky beyond I 
 saw outlined a tall martial figure, and knew that this last 
 soldier had noticed this chink in the masonry, and was 
 speculating about it as he passed by. 
 
 " A likely place," I heard him mutter, " but an ugly 
 one to enter alone. Where are the rest ? Have all gone ? 
 A pretty search they have made. I will call them back." 
 
 Thump, thump, thump went my heart against my ribs.
 
 A BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 319 
 
 In spite of its clan<your I heard a sound which 1 knew 
 was just the beginning of a shout that would have the 
 effect of bringing the scattered searchers all i-ushing back 
 to this place. But one slight hoarse note was all that 
 was uttered. With a quick rush my lord had sprung 
 out, sword in hand. There followed for two or three 
 seconds the sound of clashing blades, another effort at a 
 call, and then the thud of a heavy fall, and a gurgling 
 noise, which I shall never forget to my dying day. In the 
 dead silence which followed I heard my lord speaking in a 
 low voice. 
 
 " You can come out, Dicon ; I think all is safe now." 
 I came out trembling and giddy. There upon the leads, 
 run through the heart by a swift sword-thrust from my 
 lord, lay the man who had been a second or two before full 
 of strength and life. His glazing eyes were upturned to 
 the sky ; his tall form lay so still that I could not bear to 
 look at it. I had never seen a man killed before, and the 
 horror of the thing was stronger upon me at that moment 
 than the relief of our escape. My lord was binding with 
 his scarf a gash upon his wrist. That sight brought me 
 out of my stupor, and I asked leave to help him, though 
 my hands trembled, and I was clumsy at fastening the 
 knot. I saw my lord look at me with something of a 
 smile upon his pale, resolute face. 
 
 " Warfare is a grim thing, Dicon. Thou hast scarce the 
 stomach for it yet. But, boy, thou wilt see grimmer 
 things yet, I take it, if thou dost liold to thy purpose of 
 following the Duke's army. Such things as these are scarce
 
 320 A BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 
 
 the beginning of horrors. Come now, we must not linger 
 here. I reckon we shall be safer to seek old Jenny in the 
 house now than to linger longer on these leads, where 
 soldiers may be posted watching and spying. Go cautiously, 
 Dicon, and keep in the shadow. Belike the woman will 
 not be far off." 
 
 This surmise proved a true one, and before we had re- 
 traced our steps we saw the creeping form of old Jenny 
 coming towards us. 
 
 " Hist ! " she whispered ; " ye have done well to hide and 
 outwit them. Ye are safer here now than anywhere. 
 How many did ye slay ? Only one ? I would it had 
 been a score ! Better luck to ye next time ! Now, follow 
 me, and I'll take ye safe to the water-side, and put ye 
 in a boat that'll land ye further up the river, where 
 ye may find your way to the Duke. Tell him that all 
 loyal folks in the city will rise for him if he will but 
 bring his army to the walls. Who cares if the soldiers do 
 fire the city ? Fire means plunder ! Who cares for danger 
 where plunder is to be had ? We'll fling the cursed 
 soldiers into the flames they have kindled, to roast there as 
 they deserve ; and for us there will be plunder — plunder 
 — plunder ! " and the old hag waved her arms wildly over 
 her head, and looked the very embodiment of some fury 
 breathing out curses and threatenings of coming doom. 
 
 " The Duke shall hear all that I have learned," answered 
 my lord, " and he shall know that we owe our lives to 
 you, my good woman. But set not your heart too much 
 upon seeing him here ; for Bristol with its present garrison
 
 A BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 321 
 
 will be a hard nut to crack, and the Duke has few guns, 
 and fewer men who know how to handle them." 
 
 The woman had wrapped us each in a heavy cloak, 
 which disguised the cut of our garments, and bidding us 
 follow her, she glided through the house once more and 
 out into the street, where it was now very dark. She 
 passed us, I scarce know how, through a little postern 
 door giving upon the river, where, at the sound of a 
 whistle, a boat quickly appeared out of the darkness, and 
 she held a parley with the man who held the oars. 
 
 " He will take ye as far as a mile beyond the walls," 
 she said, " and ye will give him a gold piece for his pains. 
 They say the Duke is at Keynsham, building up the bridge. 
 Yell find him there right enow." 
 
 " But our horses, our horses ! " I said anxiously, being 
 loath indeed to part from Blackbird. And when old Jenny 
 learned where the nags and our belongings were to be 
 found, she nodded her head many times, and said at last, — 
 
 " If they be at honest Job Candy's, I'll get them tlience 
 directly it is dawn, and bring them to ye by the wood ye'll 
 see on your right when ye leave the boat. Never fear, 
 sirs; old Jenny never fails to keep her word. Farewell 
 to you, and a good voyage. I'll see ye again before many 
 hours have passed." 
 
 She slipped away into the darkness, ignoring the out- 
 stretched hand of my lord, which would have pressed a 
 golden guinea upon her. 
 
 " Don't linger, sir," said the gruff voice of the boatman ; 
 and the next moment we were speeding up stream with tlic 
 
 (511, 21
 
 32 2 A BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 
 
 last of the flood-tide, the man being anxious to land us at 
 the appointed spot before the strong ebb should make his 
 task a hard one. 
 
 I had never been on so wondrous wide a river, and 
 looked about me with awe as the boat flitted along in the 
 shadows. The burning ship farther down towards the 
 mouth of the great tidal stream had drawn all traffic away 
 from the upper reaches. Ships had weighed anchor and 
 sheered away into the wider reaches, to make sure of escape 
 should the fire spread ; whilst small craft had gone to help 
 the burning vessel, and left this part of the river quiet 
 and lonely. The fire was still burning, but not fiercely. 
 The ship looked like a phantom one of glowing flame, 
 reflected double in the sullen water, and illumining the 
 other vessels in the river with a sombre brilliance. I had 
 never seen such a sight in my life before, and could not 
 take my eyes off" it. When at last we rounded a bend in 
 the river which hid the fire from view, I saw the first 
 faint tinge of red stealing into the eastern sky, and knew 
 that another day had dawned, and that we were alive to 
 welcome it, as once I had scarce believed we should be. 
 
 The walls of the city seemed to be slowly sinking behind 
 us. The tide grew slack, and began to turn. Our boat- 
 man looked over his shoulder and pointed towards a 
 wooded hill not far from the left bank of the river, 
 which was on our right hand as we sat facing him in the 
 stern ; and we gathered from his uncouth words that he 
 was about to land us there, and that we were to wait in 
 the wood for Jenny and our horses.
 
 A BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 323 
 
 Ten minutes later we stepped ashore, and the Viscount 
 gave the man his appointed dole, together wdtli words of 
 thanks and courtesy, Avhich seemed almost thrown away 
 on such a fellow. It was beginning then to get light, and 
 I saw that my lord's face was ashy pale, and that the 
 bandage we had made for his arm was soaked through 
 with blood. 
 
 It seemed that our rough boatman had noted as much 
 as that, for he gave me a look, and then jerked his thumb 
 in a certain direction ; and following the direction of his 
 glance, I saw a little wreath of smoke curling up through 
 the trees, and gathered that we should find some sort of a 
 dwelling-place there. 
 
 Nor was I disappointed, for when my lord had dragged 
 his faltering steps a few furlongs, we came in sight of a 
 thatched c^bin belonging to a woman ; and when I knocked 
 at the door and asked admittance, saying that we had been 
 forced to fly from Bristol by the King's soldiers, and were 
 on our way to the Duke's army, we were welcomed with 
 open arms. 
 
 The wood fire on the hearth was made bright and 
 cheery with faggots from the store ; and albeit there was 
 nothing in the house but rye bread and milk, and a little 
 hard cheese, yet the milk, made hot, brought the colour 
 back to my lord's wan cheek ; and we soon stanched his 
 wound, which was not deep, and bound it up afresh, so 
 that it hindered him but little in the use of his arm. 
 
 We were both somewhat spent by our night's peril and 
 fatigue, and I quickly fell asleep by the fire, and slept for
 
 324 A BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 
 
 several hours without once waking. When I did open 
 my eyes, it was to find the rain pouring down, the fire in 
 the cabin burning cheerily, and my lord sitting at the 
 table with his head resting on his hand, lost in serious 
 reflection. 
 
 As I started up he smiled at me kindly. His face was 
 still pale, but he was not otherwise changed. 
 
 " AM^ake, boy," he said, " and ready for a march ? Old 
 Jenny has not failed us ; and our horses are in the shed 
 hard by, refreshed by their rest in the city. The good 
 folks here declare the army to be no further than Keyns- 
 ham ; and say that the bridge was mended yesterday, and 
 that the Duke will be passing over to the Gloucester side 
 of the river to-day. We had better join him as soon as 
 may be, if indeed thou wouldest not rather go home than 
 see more of the perils of war." 
 
 I felt that I had not distinguished myself in my first 
 adventure, and my face burned with shame, although I 
 knew my lord had no thought of mocking me. I stood 
 up and said resolutely, — 
 
 " If you are going back, my lord, I go with you." 
 
 " I have no choice," he answered gravely ; " I am pledged 
 to the cause. I have my Company to lead into action. But 
 the case is different with thee, Dicon ; bethink thee well." 
 
 ■ I have thought of everything, my lord," I answered. 
 " I go not back unless it be with j^ou." 
 
 " Thou art an obstinate lad, Dicon," said my lord, with a 
 smile ; " yet I like thee the better for thy stubbornness. 
 Then if thy mind is made up, let us forth without loss of
 
 A BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 325 
 
 time. If we wait for the skies to smile again, we may 
 have long to tarry." 
 
 We had soon thanked and rewarded and said farewell 
 to our hosts, and were in the saddle once more. Travel- 
 ling was becoming bad by reason of the persistent rain, 
 albeit the land sorely needed it. I wondered how it had 
 fared with our soldiers, and whether the cold and the wet 
 had damped at all their martial ardour. 
 
 It was but some seven miles, I take it, from where we 
 started to the bridge at Keynsham, or Cansham as some 
 write it ; and long before we reached the spot we knew 
 that the army was nigh at hand, because all the people of 
 the scattered villages were going forth to see, and we saw 
 horsemen scouring the country in search of provisions 
 wherewith to feed the men. Sheep and oxen were being 
 driven towards the camp, and though in the main pay- 
 ment was made for what was taken, yet there were some 
 amongst the farmers and peasants whose faces were dark 
 and lowering, and who muttered that a bad King was 
 better than an army on the march. 
 
 The bridge over the river at Keynsham, which the 
 enemy had broken down, had been repaired by Captain 
 Tyler with skill and despatch ; already the Duke and his 
 gentlemen had passed over it, and the rest of the army was 
 following when we got up. Pressing on after the Duke's 
 party, we were not long in coming up with it. Then I 
 fell into the rear, and mingled with the men : wliilst my 
 lord went straight to His Grace, and was welcomed very 
 graciously, as I heard.
 
 326 A BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 
 
 The news which I brought from the city, despite the 
 favourable feeling of the common people, did not seem to 
 the soldiers to be very encouraging. They shook their 
 heads when they heard of the Duke of Beaufort's threat, 
 and more than one veteran who had seen something of 
 war in Holland, from which country they had come over 
 with the Duke, said that in a walled and garrisoned city 
 the towns-folk were helpless as sheep if the soldiers kept 
 true to their leaders ; and so far as we had heard, there 
 had been no disaffection amongst the regular troops. It 
 was only the militiamen that deserted to the Duke. 
 
 Later on word came that the Duke had been very sad 
 on hearing the news brought by my lord the Viscount, and 
 had been heard to exclaim, — 
 
 " God forbid that I should be accessory to the ruin of 
 my friends, or that for any consideration I should subject 
 so great a city to the double calamity of sword and fire ! " 
 And although many amongst us loved him the better for 
 his gracious care of his people, yet the veterans shook 
 their heads, and whispered together that thoughts like 
 these would be the ruin of any cause, and that by no such 
 arguments had the victories of the world been won. 
 
 Still there was talk of an attack upon Bristol that very 
 night ; and since now they were so near to that city, 
 it was suggested that the troops should fall back upon 
 Keynsham, rather as though they were retreating, but 
 still encamping upon this side the river, should wait for 
 nightfall and then march rapidly upon the city and seek 
 to surprise it. Nov*^ this was right good news to the more
 
 A BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 327 
 
 warlike portion of the army, who Iiad lontred all the while- 
 to make a bold stroke. I, too, was rejoiced to hear it, for 
 methought that if the townsmen did but arise as one man 
 and attack the garrison in the rear, whilst we engaged them 
 in front, surely the place must yield ; and if our Duke 
 were but master of Bristol, arms and treasure and stores 
 of all kinds he would have in abundance, as well as a 
 walled city, and a seaport to boot, whence supplies could 
 be brought from his friends in Holland, who we were 
 assured were working for him there. 
 
 Having no post or occupation of mine own, I wandered 
 here and there as I would, watching the men take up 
 their quarters as if for the night, and always ready to 
 do any errand for my lord, if he should desire it. His 
 company of horse was posted in the rear, to guard it from 
 attack ; and as the evening began to fall wet and murky 
 and cheerless, I chanced to be standing beside him, both of 
 us being mounted, when a scout came rushing breathlessly 
 out of the town, crying lustily, — 
 
 " To horse ! to horse ! the enemy is upon us ! " 
 
 In a moment all was confusion and dismay — all save 
 the demeanour of my lord himself, which was perfectly 
 calm and intrepid. 
 
 " Steady, men, steady ! " he kept crying, as his troopers 
 gathered round him ; and as they fell into line, inspired 
 and controlled by the calmness of their leader, he asked a 
 few questions of the scout, and was told that two com- 
 panies of the enemy had come charging into tlie tuwn, and 
 would be upon us almost at once.
 
 328 A BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 
 
 And, indeed, whilst we were speaking, there came to our 
 ears the sound of on-coming horse-hoofs, and the next 
 minute the Viscount had shouted, — 
 
 " Stand to your arms, men ! Be ready ! Charge ! " 
 
 In a moment his horse sprang forward, and Blackbird 
 after him. I had no manner of business in the action, not 
 being armed with anything but a poniard in my belt, and 
 knowing nothing of warfare ; but where the Viscount's 
 horse went Blackbird must needs follow, nor had I then 
 the will to check him. Behind us thundered the men, 
 following their gallant young captain as almost all English- 
 men will follow their leader if he be brave and resolute. 
 They were but country yokels for the most part, who had 
 seen nothing of fighting, and who knew nothing of the 
 tactics of war ; but they set their teeth and lowered their 
 weapons, and followed the dashing charge of their leader. 
 
 What happened next I know not. It seemed as though, 
 with some frightful shock, I was hurled against a solid 
 rock. Sparks danced before my eyes. There was a sound 
 of singing in my ears ; and then another sound — that of 
 the rattle of musketry. And at that sound I felt Black- 
 bird rear up on his hind legs as though he would fall 
 over backwards ; but he righted himself, and then, with a 
 swiftness and skill with which I could scarce have credited 
 him, he dashed off through the heaving mass of combatants. 
 How he did it I know not to this day ; but with the sound 
 of musket shots and the clash of swords in our ears, hfr 
 galloped off as though for dear life as hard as hoofs could 
 take him.
 
 A BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 329 
 
 So bewildered and breathless was I that it was loiifr ere 
 I could check him. I felt all the while like one in a 
 dream, and knew not whether the thing were true or no, 
 nor, if it were, whether I had received some grievous liurt 
 in that fii'st fierce onslaught. But gradually as I suc- 
 ceeded in pulling up my foaming horse, I came to the 
 conclusion that I was sound and whole, and was grievously 
 ashamed at having been thus carried out of the battle by 
 my terrified and refractory steed. But Blackbird had 
 never been in such a terrible scene, nor had he ever 
 heard fire-arms save at a distance, and then it was hard to 
 hold him. I could not wonder that he had served me so ; 
 yet I was grievously ashamed that I had seen none of the 
 fighting, and had left my lord tlie Viscount in such a 
 fashion. 
 
 But as I urged the reluctant Blackbird back whence he 
 had come, I saw that he was not the only horse who liad 
 been seized with a like panic at the rattle of musketry. 
 Horses — some with riders and some without — were career- 
 ing wildly about in extremity of terror, and quite un- 
 manageable ; whilst, to my dismay and terror, I speedily 
 singled out from amongst these the fine charger ridden by 
 my lord, who so soon as he saw his friend and comrade of 
 the past days, came and ranged himself beside Blackbird, 
 as though ready for another charge. 
 
 My heart was full of fear and woe as I saw this, for I 
 knew that Bucephalus had no fear of fire, that he had been 
 trained to such scenes, and that to see him thus i-idei'less 
 betokened some hurt to my lord.
 
 330 A BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 
 
 Already it seemed as though the brief tide of battle was 
 turned back. I saw a compact body of horsemen, looking 
 like the enemy, riding fast away. Later I discovered 
 that they had taken us for friends at first, and had been 
 riding to join us, when they suddenly found out their mis- 
 take, and had been compelled to meet and repel our charge 
 before they could re-form and retreat. Had our horses and 
 soldiers been trained, we should have made prisoners of the 
 whole company ; as it was, only a few prisoners were made. 
 The rest galloped off in safety ; but they left lying on the 
 ground as one dead the gallant young captain who had 
 led the charge against them ; and with a cry of fear and 
 horror, I saw my lord stretched out upon the miry earth, 
 looking as still and rigid as the soldier on the leads at 
 dawn that day, who had been struck dead by a blow from 
 my lord's sword.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 IN SUSPENSE. 
 
 WITH a lamentable ciy I flung myself from Black- 
 bird's back, and knelt beside my lord's prostrate 
 figure ; and almost at once there was a crowd about us, 
 and presently I heard a voice speaking in tones of au- 
 thority, " Make way, men, make way ! Here is the 
 surgeon ! " 
 
 The next moment somebody else was kneeling beside 
 me, and I saw the grave, clever face of Mr. Oliver, one of 
 the Duke's surgeons. 
 
 " Is he dead ? is he dead ? " I moaned ; for I felt all the 
 courage and life taken out of me at sight of that white 
 still face. 
 
 " Killed ! not a bit of it, boy. It is but a swoon from 
 loss of blood. Here, let me get to him to stanch the 
 bleeding, else he may bleed to death ! " and the surgeon's 
 busy hands moved to and fro, whilst the flow of life-blood 
 was quickly checked. But over and above the deep gaf-h 
 in the shoulder from which the crimson stream flowed, tlie 
 bone of the sword-arm had been shattered by a musket- 
 ball ; and Mr. Oliver, as he drew forth the bullet and pro-
 
 332 IN SUSPENSE. 
 
 ceeded to swathe up the injured Kiiib, shook his head with 
 the remark, — 
 
 " This will be the last of your lighting for some time to 
 come, my good sir. The cause will be lost or won without 
 your aid before you can cross saddle or wield weapon 
 again." 
 
 The Viscount heard not a word, being still sunk in deep 
 unconsciousness ; but a voice above us said in sorrowful 
 accents, — 
 
 " And so I lose another of those very few who know the 
 art of Avar. Soon I shall have not a soldier left ! " 
 
 Raising my eyes, I saw our Duke looking down upon 
 my lord's white face with eyes full of compassion and 
 regret. 
 
 " To lose such a soldier in so small an affray ! and he 
 one of the very few who had the art to command his 
 men ! " said the Duke again. And I loved him the more 
 for his words and his look, seeing that he, too, loved my 
 lord right well. 
 
 " It is greatly to be regretted, sire," answered the surgeon, 
 who was now adjusting the torn doublet, and looking about 
 as though to know what next was to be done with the 
 patient. " Lord Vere is a heavy loss to us ; but he must 
 be well tended and have care and nursing, or it may go 
 hard with him after such a hurt. He has not that iron 
 frame which a soldier needs. He is an instrument some- 
 thing too finely tempered for such rough and ready warfare. 
 — Boy," he said, looking straight at me, " art thou his 
 servant ? I have seen thee of ttimes beside him. Where
 
 IN SUSPENSE. 
 
 333 
 
 can we carry him, so that he shall be well tended whilst 
 he lies helpless and sick ? " 
 
 " His father's house would surely be his best asylum." 
 said the Duke ; but I shook my head doubtfully. 
 
 " I misdoubt me if my lord would go there. His father 
 has cast him off for joining your Majesty. But if I could 
 get him taken back as far as Bridgewater, I could there 
 get him all he needs, and he would be well cared for and 
 tended." 
 
 " He will need that," said the surgeon, with his hand 
 upon the wrist of my lord. " He will probably fall into 
 a fever from his wounds. But, boy, let not any leech take 
 more blood from him on that account. He has lost more 
 already than he can spare. See that further loss is spared 
 him, if thou be with him. A little more, and they would 
 drain the life from him altogether — as has been done before 
 now ! " 
 
 " I will see to it," I answered eagerly, vowing in my 
 heart that nobody should do a thing for my lord that I 
 could do myself. He seemed all at once to have become 
 my charge. My heart swelled with happiness in feeling 
 this, and yet sank at the thought of the many perils and 
 difficulties which lay before me. How was I to get him 
 all those long miles back to Bridgewater ? and if I could 
 not get him there, how could I tend him and care for him 
 in a strange place, from which all stores had been taken 
 to feed the army, and amidst strangers who would pay 
 Httle heed to my prayers, and to whom my lord's life would 
 be of no moment \
 
 334 /^ SUSPENSE. 
 
 " I pray you, sir, stay with him but a brief time, and I 
 will see where I can take him," I petitioned of the doctor ; 
 and he nodded, being in fact still busy over his patient, 
 striving to restore him to consciousness after his long swoon. 
 We had carried him beneath a group of fir trees, where 
 the ground was soft and dry ; and his cloak had been 
 rolled up for a pillow beneath his head. 
 
 Leaving him there in good hands, I made my way to 
 the rear of the army, where the baggage- waggons and guns 
 were, and where I was sure I had seen a familiar face not 
 long since — the face of a farmer from the neighbourhood 
 of Bridgewater with whom I was acquainted, and who was, 
 as I well knew, a kindly man, and a person of substance 
 and importance. I had seen him in Bridgewater, too, and 
 he had told me there that he was bringing six of his men 
 to join the Duke, as well as two loads of provisions for the 
 army. He had shown me one of his waggons — and waggons 
 were not then so common as they are becoming now— and 
 he was mighty proud of it. It was laden with provender 
 for man and beast, and was to follow the army till the 
 corn was all gone. It came into my head that if that 
 waggon were to be returning empty now, I might get my 
 lord conveyed as far as Bridgewater therein ; and once at 
 Bridgewater I should be amongst his friends and mine, and 
 could get him tendance and comfort without fear of rebuff. 
 
 And not to make too long a story of it, I found the 
 farmer, and the empty waggon too ; and not only did he 
 enter into my plans for my lord, but he said he would 
 come back himself with us, which was a mighty comfort to
 
 IN SUSPENSE. 
 
 335 
 
 me. He had seen enough of fighting — for there had been 
 skirmishes all along the road these past days^to see that 
 he was not made for a soldier. He had been somewliat 
 scurvily treated by some of the officers, and though still 
 loyal to the cause, he was weary of the long wet marches. 
 He wanted to be at home again, to see how matters were 
 going there. His ardour for a personal share in the cam- 
 paign had considerably dwindled, and the whisper which 
 was going round that it would not be long before the 
 King's army was upon them four thousand strong, in which 
 case a real engagement would become inevitable, added very 
 much to his desire to find himself amongst more peaceable 
 surroundings. 
 
 So he threw himself with great zeal into my plans for 
 the Viscount. Together we collected moss in great (juanti- 
 ties, and made a deep bed of it on the floor of the waggon ; 
 nor were we content till we had piled it up two feet high, 
 so that it made the softe-st of beds for a wounded man. It 
 was rather damp, to be sure ; but the farmer's sacks were 
 spread in great numbers upon the top, and we were both 
 proud of our handiwork before it was done. There was 
 some trouble in getting the two strong horses which had 
 drawn the waggon ; for horses were greatly needed by the 
 army, and it was easier to bring them in than to take them 
 away again. But by using the Duke's name, and by my 
 making over my lord's charger, which I knew he would 
 not want for many a week to come, and wliich was of 
 real use in battle, we succeeded at last in getting our 
 horses and yoking them to the M^aggon. The farmer
 
 336 IN SUSPENSE. 
 
 had kept victuals enough for the journey, and we were 
 resolved to start at once, and take a little -trodden route, 
 so as to avoid the bands of soldiers hanging about the 
 rear of the Duke's army, and perhaps by the morning to 
 be clear of them. 
 
 Whilst thus bustling about in the camp, I heard news 
 that I thought augured ill for the success of the Duke's 
 arms. Since the capture of a few troopers of the enemy, 
 with whom we had engaged not long since, in the en- 
 gagement which had cost the Viscount so dear, it had been 
 decided not to march on Bristol to-night. The Duke had 
 heard that there was an army of four thousand men close 
 at hand, and he was afraid that he should be attacked 
 before and behind if he pursued his intention, and be dis- 
 comfited altogether. He spoke now of turning aside to 
 Bath, and trying to obtain possession of that place. For 
 my part, I grieved to think that he should not seize upon 
 the more important city, and one which was so well dis- 
 posed towards him and so full of stores and all things 
 that he needed. But I was no soldier, and moreover I had 
 other matters to think of ; and by the time we had reached 
 the Viscount once more with our waggon, I had almost 
 ceased to think of the Duke or the army, or indeed of any- 
 thing in the world except my lord. 
 
 His eyes were half open now, and he gave me a feeble 
 smile as I approached ; but his voice was so weak that I 
 was frightened, and had much ado to keep back my tears. 
 I began to wonder whether we should ever get him to 
 Bridgewater alive ; but both the surgeon and the farmer
 
 IN SUSPENSE. 
 
 337 
 
 were inclined to laugh at my fears, and to tell me I should 
 make but a sorry soldier if I were so disconcerted at the 
 sight of a little blood. 
 
 They both approved the plan of carrying him to Bridge- 
 water, out of the immediate tide of battle. As for himself, 
 he was so spent with pain and loss of blood that he could 
 scarce take note of our words, and let us do with him what 
 we would. He had lost much blood in the morning before 
 this second wound laid him low ; and I never saw living 
 man look more like death than he did when at last he lay 
 upon the couch we had made for him, wrapped up in his 
 cloak and mine against the sharpness of the night air. 
 
 The surgeon looked at him thoughtfully. 
 
 " Take him gently, take him gently, and give him fre- 
 quently to drink of this cordial. Get him away out of 
 this harassed country, where nothing can be had save the 
 bare necessaries of life. Get him to some quiet place where 
 he can be tended and watched. He should do well then ; 
 but he lacks the toughness of fibre which a soldier needs. 
 He is all fire and force, but the body is not seasoned. He 
 has the soul of a soldier, but the frame of a girl." 
 
 I was rather indignant at the last words, albeit there 
 was some truth in them ; for my lord looked almost like 
 some fair young maiden with his white face and golden 
 hair, as he lay with closed eyes upon his couch. It was 
 too much like the marble face of some sculptured monu- 
 ment not to awaken a sense of pain within me ; but I 
 fiercely held back my fears, and declared that I would 
 
 save him yet — for Mistress Mary. 
 (sn) 22
 
 338 IN SUSPENSE. 
 
 As we journeyed slowly through the summer night — and 
 the night was fair and starlight, though the ground was 
 heavy with the recent rain — I mused much of Mistress 
 Mary, wondering how matters were going with her, and 
 whether I should be able to see and speak with her when 
 I was as near as Bridgewater, and whether perchance I 
 might so contrive that she should have sight and speech of 
 my lord. 
 
 I rode Blackbird close behind the waggon for the most 
 part, and when we halted I strove to give the cordial to 
 my lord, and to get him to take food ; l)ut this he could 
 not be persuaded to do, and sometimes seemed so sunk in 
 mists of weakness as to know neither me nor what was 
 happening to him. 
 
 That long journey, which we accomplished safely in two 
 days and three nights, seems always like a dream to me. 
 We met with no mishap. We saw no soldiers or foes. The 
 country people were kind, and brought us milk for my lord 
 whenever we passed a village or farmstead, and listened 
 with wondering eyes to our tale. I was just absorbed in 
 striving to keep my lord alive till we could get him proper 
 help and tendance. He lay almost like one dead, save 
 when the pain of his wound would rouse him, if the road 
 were more rough and bad than usual. Then he would 
 strive to raise himself and ease his pain, and would some- 
 times speak my name in a tone of gentle fondness when I 
 sought to do aught for his comfort. But the fever was 
 ofttimes upon him too, and he would lie back with his lips 
 moving and his eyes seeing things invisible to us ; and at
 
 IN SUSPENSE. 339 
 
 such times he M'ould seem to be in converse with Mistress 
 Mary or with the Duke, or commanding his men in some 
 sudden attack of the enemy. It was often hard to keep 
 him from rising and hurting himself ; and night and day 
 I had to watch him, afraid to close my eyes lest he should 
 be wanting something or doing himself a mischief. 
 
 Right glad was I when at last, upon the evening of 
 the second day, the sight of the familiar walls and chim- 
 neys of Bridgewater rose up before my weary eyes. My 
 lord was lying like one dead in the cart, sunk in a deep 
 unconsciousness, and I verily began to fear that he would 
 die ere ever we could reach the town. 
 
 I took him straight to my uncle Robert's house — the 
 Cross Keys Inn, as it was called — and there we met 
 such a welcome as cheered my heart and took a load of 
 anxiety from my mind. 
 
 All Bridgewater was agog for new^s of the army, and 
 any follower of the Duke's was welcomed with the 
 greatest love and kindHness. There was something in 
 the beauty of my lord that appealed to all hearts at 
 first sight of him ; moreover, in Bridgewater he was well 
 known and well loved for his own sake, and the people 
 were ready to make an idol of him forthwith when they 
 understood that he had given up everything to join the 
 Duke, and that he had met his grievous wound in the 
 good cause. 
 
 He was carried forthwith to the best bed-chamber in 
 my uncle's house, and before long all the leeches in the 
 town had grathered round him, and I was in the greatest
 
 340 IN SUSPENSE. 
 
 fear lest they should want to use their lancets upon him — 
 for such was the custom for almost every malady — and 
 I had to repeat the words of Mr. Oliver many times over; 
 but having done so, I saw that they would prevail. 
 
 The doctors looked at each other and nodded and 
 shook their heads : one said that there might be some- 
 thing in the argument, whilst another said that an army 
 surgeon ought to know what he was talking of. A third, 
 the eldest, remarked that perhaps a sound sleep would 
 be the best thing for the patient, and that he had a 
 potion which would probably induce a long and sweet 
 sleep, and he said he would at least try that before 
 resorting to any other methods. All having agreed to 
 this, the potion was given, and soon the furrows of pain 
 smoothed themselves from my lord's brow, and he sank 
 into a sleep very different from the trance-like condition 
 in which he had lain often for half a day together in 
 the waggon, and which seemed to me like a harbinger 
 of coming life. 
 
 As soon as this was so I stretched myself on a couch 
 at the foot of the bed and slept also ; and I think never 
 was sleep so sound or sweet as mine that Saturday night. 
 
 During the week which I spent in Bridgewater many 
 things happened, and I scarce know in what order to 
 tell them, nor which will seem of most moment to the 
 reader. Perhaps that which at that time seemed of 
 most moment to me — namely, that I succeeded in getting 
 Mistress Mary Mead to ride out with me one day from 
 Taunton, and spend a few hours beside my lord. Such
 
 IN SUSPENSE. 341 
 
 a thing might not have been so easy to compass but 
 for the excitement and stir prevaiKng at this time in 
 both towns. It was a period of intense suspense. We 
 knew not from day to day what news would be brouglit 
 in. We heard all manner of rumours of which no man 
 knew the origin. Sometimes we heard that the Duke's 
 army had been cut to pieces and was in full flight ; at 
 others, that he had obtained a mighty victory over the 
 King's forces, and was in full march for London, which 
 was ready to receive him with open arms. One flying 
 scout declared that there had been a fight at Philip's 
 Norton, that at the first experience of real warfare the 
 Duke's army had begun to melt, and that thousands 
 had departed to their own homes. Another report said 
 that Mr. Adlam from Wiltshire, with a great body of 
 horse, was on his way to effect a junction with the Duke ; 
 whilst the club-men, ten thousand strong, had gathered 
 somewhere upon Pedwell Plain, and had sent a message 
 to the Duke promising to join him. 
 
 Perhaps some may not know what manner of men 
 these club-men were ; and indeed their profter of assist- 
 ance came to almost nothing in the end. I have heard 
 that the club-men had their origin in the days of the civil 
 war, when the people, finding themselves robbed and 
 plundered by two rival armies without hope of redress 
 or compensation, resolved to defend themselves from such 
 attacks, and refuse to allow their property to be taken 
 from them by either party. The men thus banded to- 
 gether were armed with clubs, and went by the name
 
 342 IN SUSPENSE. 
 
 of club-men. Whether they were ever much of a power 
 I know not, but from my boyhood I had heard them 
 spoken of in the country ; and now it was said that they 
 were up and in arms, and ready to join the Duke in 
 considerable numbers. 
 
 Another and a very disquieting rumour also reached us 
 during this week, which was that the King had issued a 
 manifesto to those engaged in the service of the Duke, 
 to say that if within certain dates they should quit the 
 Duke's army and join that of the King, they should be 
 pardoned their rebellion, and be safe from all punishment. 
 This promise, it was said, had had the effect of inducing 
 many to quit the Duke's army ; and so disheartened had 
 our young uncrowned monarch become (so the voice of 
 rumour said) with these desertions, and the failure of the 
 Bristol project, and the slackness of the gentry to join him, 
 that he had seriously spoken of flying with his officers to 
 some neighbouring seaport and taking ship for Holland, 
 leaving his army to avail themselves of the King's promise 
 of clemency, and be safe from further harm. 
 
 You may guess what a ferment was stirred up in 
 men's minds by all these contrary and disquieting rumours. 
 Bridgewater and Taunton were all in a tumult from 
 morning till night, waiting for fresh news, discussing 
 what had last been brought, and sending messengers to 
 and fro to seek tidings and ask their neighbours what 
 they had heard. It was thus easier than it would have 
 been at any other time to ride unnoticed from place to 
 place. By the time Thursday came my lord began to
 
 IN SUSPENSE. 343 
 
 show real traces of amendment. He was as weak as a 
 sick child, and could scarce lift his head from the pillow, 
 and at present he asked nothing of the news of the day, 
 seeming too weak to wish to be disturbed. But the 
 fever had left him, and the good soup and possets which 
 my aunt made for him were bringing back his strength 
 little by little ; and so I felt that I might safely leave 
 him for a day, and go to Taunton to seek tidings of my 
 relations there, and, if possible, to gain speech of Mistress 
 Mary and tell her of her lover. • 
 
 All Taunton was in a fever of excitement wlien I ar- 
 rived ; and I heard that news had been brought thither 
 that the Duke's army was actually in retreat, that no 
 help had come from Wiltshire, that Argyll had been 
 defeated in Scotland, that the army was deserting fast 
 on all sides, and that the Duke, in great depression of 
 spirits, was falling back upon those cities which had 
 welcomed him at first. Also a messenger had come in 
 with the notice of the King's promise to deserters from 
 the cause, and a great tumult had been thereby stirred 
 up, none knowing what effect such a manifesto might 
 have upon the soldiers. 
 
 But what I chiefly noted was the change in the feel- 
 ings of the Taunton citizens. They who had been so 
 forward to welcome him at first were now talking to- 
 gether at street corners, and the words that I heard were 
 such as these : — 
 
 " Let him not come back hither ! Let him not return 
 to Taunton ! We o-ave him all we had last time. We
 
 344 ^^' SUSPENSE. 
 
 plundered ourselves to furnish him. We have no more 
 to offer. We shall be undone by a second visitation ! Let 
 him not come hither again. Let us send word whilst 
 there is yet time that we want no second visit ! " 
 
 What a change from the Taunton of a fortnight ago ! 
 I could scarce believe my ears. Well indeed has it been 
 written that there is no confidence to be placed in any 
 child of man ! When I reached my uncle's house, I found 
 the tone of his talk quite altered. Without openly assert- 
 ing enmity to the Duke, he spoke in a way which made 
 me certain that his heart had turned against him in the 
 hour of adversity. Since no capture of Bristol had been 
 made, and no rising amongst the gentry had followed the 
 proclamation of the Duke's title to the throne, doubt and 
 despondency had fallen upon Taunton ; and my uncle, 
 ever prone to sail with the wind, was amongst the first 
 to listen with respect to Mr. Axe's persuasions and the 
 arguments of the Mayor and magistrates, and avow him- 
 self on the side of law and order. He was sincerely 
 relieved to find that I had been so little with the army, 
 and that I was now at Bridgewater in quite a humble 
 capacity as body servant to my lord. He advised me 
 to dissuade my lord from mixing himself up any more 
 in what he now termed a rebellion ; and I was able to 
 answer that I thought this would be an impossibility in 
 the future, for my lord was like to be a long while heal- 
 ing of his wounds ; whilst, if things did not take a turn, 
 the Duke would scarce be here in arms more than a short 
 time longer.
 
 IN SUSPENSE. 
 
 345 
 
 But I was very sad to find Taunton so changed : for 
 I loved the Duke, and still cherished bright dreams of 
 what England would be like living under the righteous 
 sway of such a King. I thought I would go to Miss 
 Blake's without delay, and give my account of my lord 
 to her and Mistress Mary. I had scarce put into form 
 my hope that she would come back with me and see 
 him, and yet such was the case ; for scarce had she 
 fully comprehended that he lay in Bridgewater sick and 
 wounded — wounded in the righteous cause — than she 
 went uj) to Miss Blake, who was listening with tears of 
 sympathy in her eyes, and said, — 
 
 " Prithee, dear madam, take me to him ! I must see 
 him, my gallant love, who has gotten this hurt in the 
 good cause which, for love of me, he embraced. Ah ! 
 dear lady, the days be long and the way is short ! Dicon 
 will find us horses to take us. Prithee, take me there, 
 dear madam, and I will bless thee to the last hour of 
 my life ! " 
 
 I know not what heart could have resisted Mistress 
 Mary's sweet pleading ; certainly not that of Miss Blake, 
 who was as full of romance and enthusiasm as any girl, 
 and whose loyalty towards the Duke had never failed 
 nor faltered through good report or evil report. That 
 is the way, I think, with women. Love is with tliem 
 an instinct, and it is far more faithful and lasting than 
 with men, who reason and think and weigh matters again 
 and again in the balance. It mattered not to them that 
 the cause was beginning to look gloomy, that some even
 
 346 IN SUSPENSE. 
 
 went so far as to say it was lost. They loved and trusted 
 just the same, and believed that right would be done at 
 last; and since the Viscount had got his grievous wound 
 in the righteous cause, and Mistress Mary must needs see 
 him, her good friend rode forth willingly with her that 
 day, and we reached Bridgewater before the sun had 
 begun to get low in the sky. 
 
 As I have said, there was too much astir just then, 
 too much coming and going, and talking and discussing, 
 for the doings of quiet people to excite much comment. 
 We rode forth without meeting any questions, and at 
 Bridgewater, where the ladies were not known, no one 
 paid any heed to us. The town was full of excitement 
 because it was said that both the army of the Duke 
 and the army of the King were drawing near, and some 
 thought there would be a battle nigh against the town ; 
 whilst others averred that only the Duke was coming, and 
 that he had already routed his foes. Any way, there was 
 so much stir in the streets that none paused to look at 
 us ; and soon we alighted at my uncle's inn, whilst my 
 aunt came forth to welcome the strangers, and listened in 
 smiling amaze as I whispered my story in her ear. 
 
 " Nay, but thou hast brought him the best medicine 
 of all, Dicon ! " she exclaimed at the close ; and when 
 she had taken the visitors to the parlour, and had seen 
 Mistress Mary without her riding-hood, her heart was 
 more than won, and nothing was good enough for her. 
 She bustled about to get the table set, whilst I M'ent 
 to my lord's room, and found him lately wakened from
 
 IN SUSPENSE. 
 
 347 
 
 a sweet sleep, and looking more like liimsclf than he had 
 done since he was first laid low. 
 
 I did not tell him that Mistress Mary had come ; I only 
 told him that I had been to Taunton, and that I had 
 seen and spoken with her. Even that word brought a 
 flush of colour to the wan cheek — the first I had seen ; 
 and as he lay looking at me whilst I told of her, and 
 tried to remember some of her words, the door behind 
 us opened softly, and a light footstep crossed the floor. 
 
 The next moment I saw such a light leap into my 
 lord's face that I knew in a moment who had come in. 
 
 " Mary — my Mary ! " he cried, and would have lifted 
 himself but that she came swiftly forward and laid her 
 hand upon him to restrain him. 
 
 " Reginald," she said softly, " you have gotten your 
 wound for my sake. I must needs come to lielp to 
 heal it." 
 
 " It is healed already at sight of thee, sweetheart ! " he 
 said ; and then I rose and stole forth from the chamber, 
 for I felt that it was no longer any place for me.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 BACK AT BRIDGE WATER. 
 
 " '' f ^HE Duke back in the town — here ! " cried my 
 JL lord, and he half rose from his pillows in his 
 excitement ; whilst Miss Blake and Mistress Mary, who 
 were sitting together near to the pleasant oriel window, 
 started up, and Mistress Mary exclaimed, — 
 
 " Sure I thought that I heard the sound of a distant 
 tumult but now. Dicon, Dicon ! art sure of it ? What 
 has brought him hither again ? not misfortune ? Say it 
 is not misfortune ! " 
 
 " Mistress, I know not the rights of it yet," I answered, 
 breathless with the haste with which I had rushed back 
 with the news. " All I can say is that he is here, and 
 his army is fast following ; that all the town is gone 
 out to meet him, and that the streets are full of people 
 all talking and welcoming him. There is no cloud on 
 their faces. They are as glad and as loving as when he 
 entered last. I stayed to ask nothing, but fled back with 
 the news. I saw him riding bravely amidst his officers, 
 and I missed no familiar face. If some of his soldiers 
 have deserted him, I think his captains are stanch."
 
 BACK AT BRIDGE WATER. 
 
 349 
 
 "Back at Bridgewater ! " repeated my lord, who liad 
 sunk again upon his pillows, being indeed too feeble to 
 sit up. " That is strange ! Is it a retreat, or but a 
 piece of strategy ? Dicon, go forth and ask more, and 
 come and tell us again. Where are the Wiltshire horse 
 of which we have heard ? Ask that, good Dicon. And 
 how about the march upon London ? Has that, too, been 
 abandoned ? Does the Duke think his work is done 
 when but a few ungarrisoned towns in the West stand 
 for his cause ? " 
 
 " Dear love, be not dismayed," said Mistress Mary, rising 
 and coming towards him with that light in her eyes which 
 I knew so well. " What does it matter to God whether 
 deliverance is wrought by many or by few ? He is the 
 God of battles. He fights ever upon the rightful side. 
 Why need our hearts quake or feel fear ? All will be 
 well. The Lord will arise, and His enemies will be 
 scattered ! " 
 
 I saw a strange smile cross the Viscount's face as ]\Iis- 
 tress Mary spoke these words in that full, sweet voice of 
 hers that was like music in his ears. He did not answer, 
 but put out his uninjured hand, and she came and laid 
 hers upon it. Then they looked into each other's eyes, and 
 I think that all thoughts of the Duke or of coming warfare 
 passed out of the minds of both. I have lived to see 
 something of the power of love in human lives, but I think 
 I never saw such beautiful and perfect love as that which 
 existed between my lord and fair Mistress Mary. From 
 the time, only a day and a half now, since she had first
 
 3 so BACK AT BRIDGE WATER. 
 
 appeared beside him, he had made a wonderful advance on 
 the road to recovery ; and Miss Blake had, of her own 
 accord, offered to stay for a few days at the inn, that 
 Mistress Mary might help to nurse her lover back to 
 health and strength. Just now the whole country was so 
 disturbed that the movements of private individuals were 
 not like to attract notice. Lord Lonsdale had gone to 
 London, Mr. Blewer was away none knew whither. There 
 was nobody to note the absence of Mistress Mary from her 
 accustomed home ; and if any asked for her, he would be 
 content on knowing that she was away with Miss Blake 
 upon a visit. Her guardian, the only person who could 
 interfere, was at a safe distance, and there was no schooling 
 going on at such a time of excitement. Many parents had 
 removed their daughters in affright at the turn affairs Avere 
 taking, and at the prominent way in which Miss Blake 
 and her pupils had come forward on the occasion of the 
 proclamation of the kingship of the Duke. So it was easy 
 for both to be absent just now ; and it was the best of 
 medicines for my lord to see the sweet face of Mistress 
 Mary beside him, and to be ministered to by her gentle 
 hands. I was never afraid to leave him now, and just at 
 this exciting time was glad of my liberty. 
 
 I rushed forthwith into the streets again, and soon found 
 my way to the soldiers' quarters, where they were being 
 bountifully done to by the loyal towns-folk. There was 
 nothing of dismay or fear in their aspect, and they told us 
 of a gallant victory they had won at Philip's Norton over 
 the enemy. I never had a very clear idea of what that
 
 BACK AT B JUDGE WATER. 351 
 
 battle was like, for .some said one thing and some another ; 
 but it was plain our army had discomfited tliat of the false 
 King, and that after some sharp lighting, and a good deal 
 of cannonading which had made great noise but done 
 little hurt, the rival army had drawn off in retreat, leaving 
 our bold fellows masters of the field. 
 
 Why they had not then marched forward instead of 
 retreating backward is a matter I have never fully under- 
 stood. I think the men themselves did not know. Some 
 said that they had not enough horse to cross Salisbury 
 Plain, since Mr. Adlam had not brought his promised 
 troop; and others, that the Duke was still thinking of a 
 retrograde move upon Bristol. But however that may 
 have been, the men were very bold of aspect and full of 
 martial ardour. They admitted that there had been a 
 good many desertions after the fight at Philip's Norton. 
 Numbers of poor yokels, who had never seen war before, 
 and had been scared by the guns and disheartened by the 
 hardships of the wet marches and lack of food, had deserted 
 to their homes upon finding themselves so near. But the 
 stouter-hearted fellows who remained laughed at the poor 
 spirit of these comrades, and vowed themselves better off 
 without them. Mistress Mary, when she heard, looked at 
 her lover with one of her radiant glances, and said, — 
 
 " Is it not like tliat sifting of Gideon's little band ? 
 All who were faint-hearted were to go to their own homes. 
 In a holy cause we want none but those whose hearts are 
 set upon the noble end, and who know not a thought of 
 faltering and fear. Oh, I am glad there has licen such
 
 352 BACK AT BRIDGEWATER. 
 
 a sifting ! I think that God will never work with unworthy- 
 instruments. Dear love, how I would that thou couldst 
 go forth with them again ! Yet I will not even repine at 
 that, since thy hurt was gotten in a righteous cause, and I 
 have the sweet task of ministering to thee." 
 
 Such sweet words and looks went far to reconcile my 
 lord to the fret and weariness of sickness. I think he 
 scarce felt the pain of his wounds when Mistress Mary was 
 by ; and if his nights were sometimes restless and full of 
 feverish visions of disquiet (for my lord always felt that ill 
 would come of this thing), by day his lady's presence 
 would chase these visions away, and give him that rest of 
 body and mind which his state so greatly needed. 
 
 The next day, Saturday, completed the week which we 
 had spent at Bridgewater, and certainly a great change for 
 the better had taken place in my lord's condition. He was 
 so much stronger that I sometimes thought he w^ould ask 
 speech of some of his brothers in arms, now in the town 
 once more ; but he never did. And it may be that this 
 thing was the saving of him in the days which quickly 
 followed, for I do not think his presence in the town was 
 ever really known. Men had so much to think of in those 
 days that faces and names slipped out of their minds, and 
 there was such coming and going that none could rightly 
 say who was here and who was not. We had not thought 
 to keep my lord's presence a secret, yet I verily believe the 
 thing remained hidden from knowledge. He lay in a large 
 chamber well out of the way of the noise of the inn, and 
 Mistress Mary took the charge of him, with Miss Blake to
 
 BACK AT BRIDGE WATER. 
 
 353 
 
 help her, and in all the excitement and stir in the place 
 that quiet upper chamber and its occupant were well-nigh 
 forgotten. 
 
 Saturday was a day of rejoicing to the town. It was 
 said that help was at hand, though none knew exactly 
 from whence it was coming. A report that eight thousand 
 troops from France had been landed to quell the insui-rec- 
 tion in the West was proved to be untrue. Messengers had 
 been sent out from the Duke in various directions, and the 
 people believed that great things would come of it. The 
 march upon London was still eagerly spoken of, and it 
 was in all men's mouths that news was daily looked for 
 of a rising there ; whilst lower whispers declared that 
 there was a plot on foot to stab the usurping King in 
 Whitehall, and that Colonel Danvers had declared he 
 believed it would soon be done, the people being so in- 
 censed against him, and that then the Duke would only 
 have to march boldly forward to find himself King of all 
 the realm. 
 
 The temper of the soldiers was so loyal and fervent that 
 all the Taunton men were permitted to go home to see 
 their wives that day, on the promise of returning on the 
 morrow ; and that promise they faithfully fulfilled. And 
 I trust that Taunton felt something ashamed of its panic 
 of a few days since when tidings reached it of the bravery 
 of the Duke's army, and the successes it had gained. 
 
 My lord heard all this with great quietness, and it was 
 Mistress Mary's eyes that kindled and glowed and flashed 
 as I came in and out with news. Not that any plot for 
 (511) 23
 
 354 BACK AT BRIDGEWATER. 
 
 assassination found favour in her pure eyes ; but she said 
 with grave severity of mien, — 
 
 "A man does but reap that which he sows. If ever 
 monarch has sowed evil and craelty and injustice, it is he 
 who now sits upon England's throne. God is in heaven, 
 judging right ; and if He send him a quick retribution in 
 this life, it may be that he will find pardon in the world 
 to come." 
 
 Sunday dawned fair and clear, and we had no thoughts 
 of what a day it would be for us. I had heard that the 
 Rev. Robert Ferguson, of whom mention has been made, 
 who was one of the Duke's chiefest advisers and the chap- 
 lain to the army, was to preach to the soldiers upon the 
 Castle Green that morning ; and I was very anxious to 
 hear him, albeit I had taken a great dislike to the man 
 from some words dropped anent him by my lord, who 
 made no secret of his distrust of the fellow. He had been 
 hoping to preach at Taunton in St. Mary Magdalene's 
 Church two Sundays before, had it not been decided to 
 move from that city upon that day. He had even made a 
 raid on Mr. Harte's house in Taunton, where he seldom was 
 to be found, since he lived at his Cathedral residence, and 
 left Mr. Axe in charge there, and had robbed him of a 
 gown in which to enter the pulpit. But the sermon had 
 after all never been preached, and now we were to hear it 
 in Bridgewater. 
 
 I remember little of the discourse save the text, which 
 was received with a murmur of approbation when it was 
 spoken, though afterwards I remember that I thought of it
 
 BACK AT BRIDGE WATER. 
 
 355 
 
 with a certain thrill of dismay, — " The Lord God of goda, 
 the Lord God of gods, he knoweth, and Israel he shall know; 
 if it be IN REBELLION, or if in transgression against the 
 Lord (save us not this day)." 
 
 Mistress Mary was with me, and listened to every word, 
 and went back to her lover with a new light in her eyes 
 and colour on her cheek. I fear I looked more at the 
 people than at the preacher, and that his eloquence was lost 
 upon me. But men said that he had preached a line ser- 
 mon ; and when I heard Mistress Mary quote pieces of it 
 to my lord, I thought it sounded finer and better and purer 
 than it had come from his lips. I think my lord felt the 
 same, for he presently said with a smile,— 
 
 " I think that thou couldst convert me to anything, 
 sweet Mary ; but I fear the reverend gentleman's remarks 
 would have found but little echo in mine heart. A man 
 must be true to himself and his cause ere he can look for 
 others to trust him ; and if treachery was ever written 
 upon any face, it is written on the face of that man." 
 
 " But he will not betray the cause ? " asked Mistress 
 Mary, breathlessly. 
 
 " May be not. He has more to hope from the Duke than 
 from any other man or any other cause. Self-interest may 
 keep him stanch ; but such a man as that would sell him- 
 self anywhere to the highest bidder. I misdoubt me now 
 that he is not half a spy." 
 
 Leaving Mistress Mary and my lord to talk these things 
 over together, I strolled into the sunny street, for to-day 
 was bright and fine ; and hardly had I gone a few furlongs
 
 356 BACK AT BRIDGEWATER. 
 
 before I was met by a fellow whose face and name were 
 known to me — one Richard Godfrey, servant to a gentle- 
 man of the neighbouring village of Chedzoy. He was hot 
 with the haste with which he had come, and on seeing me 
 he cried out, — 
 
 " Hi, Dicon lad ! dost know where the Duke of Mon- 
 mouth — the King — is to be seen ? " 
 
 At first I thought him jesting, and answered with a 
 jest; but he quickly made me understand that he really 
 meant what he said. 
 
 " My master has sent me," he said, " to tell the Duke 
 that tlie King's army has encamped not six miles away on 
 the plain of Sedgemoor. We saw them from the church 
 tower this morn, and he sent me to spy out their numbers, 
 and to bring speedy news thereof to the Duke here. There 
 be several thousand lying there, close to the village of 
 Weston Zoyland on Penzoy Pound — thou knowest the 
 place, Dicon. But they be drinking and revelling, and 
 have no thought, as it seems, of attack. Bring me to the 
 Duke, and let me tell him all. So is my master's will." 
 
 After hearing this, I lost not a moment in conducting 
 the messenger to the Duke's quarters ; and, as good for- 
 tune would have it, we met him coming forth with sev- 
 eral of his officers, all of whom were speaking of a move 
 that day, though whether upon London, or whether into 
 Gloucestershire, we humble folks did not know. 
 
 Upon hearing Godfrey's message great excitement pre- 
 vailed, and a rapid move was made towards the church 
 tower, from whence, by the aid of spy-glasses, we could
 
 BACK AT BRIDGEWATER. 357 
 
 descry the position of the enemy, and see that our mes- 
 senger had brought us true tidings. 
 
 Now instantly there came into the minds of the Duke's 
 counsellors the desire to make a sudden attack by night 
 upon the careless and unsuspecting foe. We could not 
 see whether they had intrenched themselves oi- no, but 
 Godfrey said he would go again and bring us word, and 
 then guide us over the plain of Sedgemoor by night; for 
 there were various rhines — as we call the deep water- 
 drains which intersect it — to be crossed, and only those 
 familiar with the district laiew the places where these 
 were fordable. 
 
 Meantime the waggons were loaded up, the soldiers 
 were drawn up and fed, and preparations made for a 
 march out so soon as the evening should be come. The 
 soldiers returning from Taunton, whither they had gone to 
 see their wives or friends, found that they were to be led 
 into battle that very night, to cut to pieces (as we fondly 
 hoped) the whole army of the Earl of Feversham ! 
 
 The greatest joy and enthusiasm prevailed. The men 
 who had seen the King's troops draw ofi' from Philip's 
 Norton, and who had never met any serious check, despite 
 the fact that they had not been led to the walls of Bristol, 
 or been called upon for any very great achievement, felt 
 confident of winning a great victory over a sleeping and 
 careless army. When Godfrey returned with the news that 
 the enemy was not intrenched, that the greatest careless- 
 ness prevailed, that officers and men were drinking them- 
 selves drunk, and that Lord Feversham was at Chedzoy
 
 358 BACK AT BRIDGE WATER. 
 
 with one of his bodies of horse, the men huzzahed aloud, 
 and tossed their caps into the air. Visions of easy victory, 
 a routed army, and abundance of plunder rose up before 
 their eyes, and they only clamoured to be led against the 
 foe as fast as they could travel. 
 
 Godfrey was our leader. He advised the Duke not to 
 take the direct route to Weston Zoyland, because the Earl 
 had placed bodies of horse to guard that road ; and we must 
 also make a circuit to avoid Chedzoy, where more dragoons 
 had been posted. Our way lay along the Eastern Cause- 
 way, as the lane is called, as far as Peasy Farm, and then 
 bearing round to the south, we should march straight down 
 upon them, leaving Chedzoy on our right. 
 
 How shall I describe the brave show that our army 
 made marching forth in the bright sunshine of that July 
 evening ? — the horsemen with my Lord Grey (the Duke 
 would not divide the cavalry, as some wished him to do, 
 though, had my lord the Viscount been there, methinks he 
 would have put one half under his charge) ; then the foot- 
 soldiers, the Blue, the White, the Red, the Green, the 
 Yellow regiments, as well as the independent company 
 from Lyme ; and behind these the waggons of artillery and 
 the four field-pieces. Never had I seen a more gallant 
 sight; and I could no more keep away from following 
 than a bee can tear himself from a flower. Blackbird was 
 as eager as I, and as much excited; and I rode ahead 
 beside Godfrey, and let him ease himself by resting a hand 
 on Blackbird's neck as we went. 
 
 At first we did not hasten, for we wanted the darkness
 
 BACK AT BRIDGE U A TEA'. 359 
 
 to fall before we emerged from the shelter of the lanes 
 upon the open moor. And as we wended our way through 
 the gathering dusk, we talked of the great things that 
 would follow this coming victory, and how, when once the 
 King's army had dispersed before us, we should march 
 unimpeded to London to set the crown upon the royal 
 victor's head. 
 
 The march of a great host is a more tedious matter than 
 one would believe who has not seen it, and darkness had 
 fallen before we reached the moor. This was what we 
 wanted ; but the darkness was bewildering too, and the 
 crossing of the two great rhines which lay in our path 
 became more difficult than had been supposed. Indeed 
 Godfrey lost his way altogether for a time, so that some 
 have said he betrayed us and the cause, and have spoken 
 much ill of him. But I am well assured that such was 
 not so, for I was hard by him all that strange journey, 
 and I am very sure that he did his best to lead us by the 
 right road. 
 
 The troops, as you may guess, were thrown somcAvhat 
 into disorder by the passing of these fords ; and now be- 
 lieving that the rival army lay before us without in- 
 trenchment or defence of any kind, and being hot and 
 eager for the struggle, the men marched very fast, and so 
 increased the disorder in their ranks. 
 
 After passing the second rhine, we were (according to 
 Godfrey) not more than a mile from the enemy ; and here 
 the Duke halted, and I heard that the cavalry were ordered 
 to advance, followed by the guns, and that the foot were
 
 36o BACK AT BRIDGEWATER. 
 
 to get into rank and follow to support the horse so soon as 
 the first charge had been made. 
 
 And how shall I describe that battle, fought in the 
 darkness of a summer night, about which so many stories 
 are told that one's brain reels with the effort of trying to 
 understand and piece together all that is spoken concern- 
 ing it ? Perhaps I had better content myself with telling 
 as far as I can remember what I myself saw and heard, 
 though my recollections are indistinct, and so mixed with 
 the tales afterwards heard that sometimes I scarce know 
 what it was I saw in person, and what it was that was 
 afterwards told me. 
 
 But at least I know that when the horse had started I 
 followed behind them on Blackbird, too eager to feel fear, 
 and resolved, should a splendid and victorious charge be 
 made, to be the first to carry back the news of it to the 
 Duke, who remained with the infantry. 
 
 Up till now we believed that our approach had been 
 unknown to the carelessly -guarded army ; but we knew 
 that it could not remain unknown much longer. The 
 horse were charging straight upon the camp, when sud- 
 denly there came a halt, some angry and dismayed excla- 
 mations, and the sudden accidental discharge of a pistol. 
 Who fired the shot has never been known ; it was believed 
 to have been an accident, caused by the dismay which 
 seized the horse on finding that a deep rhine — the Old 
 Bussex Rhine — of which Godfrey seemed to know nothing 
 lay between them and the camp on Penzoy Pound. 
 
 Immediately confusion reigned, but the word was given
 
 BACK AT BRIDGE WATER. 361 
 
 to skirt along and find a ford. In the darkness and dis- 
 order I knew little of what passed : but the whole place 
 was astir — sentries were calling, the rattle of arms was 
 heard, when suddenly I heard a shout which told me that 
 our men were across the rhine. Next moment the dark- 
 ness was lit up by a flash of Are, whilst the terrible roll 
 of musketry rang through the night air. These volleys 
 were repeated again and again ; yet it seemed but a few 
 minutes before I was almost carried off" my feet by the 
 return of our horsemen, who came galloping back in con- 
 fusion and dismay. 
 
 " What has happened ? " I cried breathlessly, as Black- 
 bird was carried along by the backward rush of the snort- 
 ing horses, terrified at the flash and smell and noise of 
 fire-arms, so that their riders could not control them even 
 had they desired to lead them again against the foe. 
 
 Then one said one thing and one anothei- ; but all agreed 
 that we were betrayed, that the cause was lost, that the 
 enemy was securely intrenched behind a deep fosse, and 
 that those of the horse who had crossed it would never 
 come back alive. 
 
 At that methinks some spirit not mine own possessed 
 me, for I fell into a kind of fury, and called out to those 
 about me, — 
 
 " Men, if you be men and not cowards, follow me for 
 the sake of England's honour, and strike one blow for 
 freedom and the Duke, if we die for it 1 " 
 
 Then pulling up Blackbird, and making him wheel 
 round sorely against his will, I seized an axe from the
 
 362 BACK AT BRIDGEWATER. 
 
 belt of one of the men near to me, and galloped furiously 
 back toward the camp, where the battle was raging hotly. 
 
 I know not how many came with me ; some twenty or 
 thirty, I think. I trow I must surely have been mad at 
 that moment ; but I cared not what befell me, so that I 
 struck but one blow for the cause I loved. And I think 
 that the fury of my spirit entered into Blackbird, for he 
 no longer feared to face the flash of fire nor the rattle of 
 the muskets, and even the boom of the great field-pieces 
 only made him gallop the more willingly. I think it was 
 his instinct that led us to the place where the rhine could 
 be crossed, or else he leaped clean over it. For the next 
 minute I and some score of followers were charging 
 through the enemy's camp, scattering right and left all 
 who opposed us, and for the moment spreading confusion 
 in our train. 
 
 " King Monmouth ! King Monmouth ! " I shouted at the 
 top of my voice, as I waved my axe about my head, feel- 
 ing that I could slay the veriest giant as though he had 
 been a child ; and indeed I did cut down more than one 
 adversary who aimed a blow at me as I swept past. 
 
 " Down with all usurpers ! Death to all traitors and 
 Papists ! King Monmouth ! King Monmouth for England ! " 
 
 Shouting these words, and charging through the camp 
 like furies, I and my few followers dashed on madly, whilst 
 behind us we heard the tide of battle raging, and knew 
 not how the day would turn. Suddenly we were brought 
 to a halt by a shock the like of which I had never felt 
 before. We had flung ourselves in the darkness upon a
 
 BACK AT BRIDGE WATER. 363 
 
 compact mass of horsemen, drawn up in Weston Zoyland 
 by the Earl of Feversham himself (as I heard later), and 
 about to start forth to the relief of those in front. 
 
 " Down with the traitors ! No quarter ! " I heard 
 shouted, as the awful shock brought Blackbird to a stand- 
 still, flinging him back on his haunches, and nearly knock- 
 ing the breath out of my body. 
 
 I remember setting my teeth and trying to pray ; for I 
 was assured that my last hour had now come, and was 
 surprised that I felt no fear, being yet full of the over- 
 mastering fury which had first possessed me when I saw 
 the flight of Lord Grey's horse. But quicker than light- 
 ning Blackbird had recovered himself ; and wheeling round 
 with that dexterous agility of which he was such a master, 
 he was off through the darkness like a flash, whither I 
 knew not. I heard a rattle behind me ; there was a whiz- 
 zing and singing in my ears. The right arm, with which 
 I was still holding my axe, dropped numb to my side, 
 although I felt no pain. A sort of mist came round me. 
 The sound of the battle reached my ears like a continuous 
 hum. I found myself thinking that I was in church, and 
 that the organ was playing; then I remember nothing 
 more for what seemed to me an immense time, and woke 
 to find myself lying in a ditch with Blackbird above 
 me, and the clear light of a summer's morning breaking 
 slowly in the east. 
 
 Where was I ? what had happened ? and what meant 
 all that noise of crying and shouting, groaning and shriek- 
 ing, which assailed my ears ?
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 FATAL SEDGEMOOR. 
 
 WAS I alive or dead, sleeping or waking ? Was all 
 this tumult part of a horrid dream ? or was I in 
 the midst of unknown and undreamed of horrors ? With 
 a sense of strange suffocation I strove to rise, but was 
 unable to do so. I was lying in a dry ditch, and Blackbird 
 was on the top of me, not crushing me by his weight, but 
 so placed that I could not do more than lift my head and 
 look about me. 
 
 Day had broken, the long low shafts of light fell across 
 the plain, and I saw, as in a dream, the figures of men in 
 hot pursuit one of another. I saw men smitten down 
 by their fellows, falling sometimes without a groan, some- 
 times with shrieks of agony. I saw worse things than 
 that too ; for even as I lay and watched, scarce knowing 
 who I was nor where I had got, nor what this fearful sight 
 could mean, I saw fierce-faced men with bloody swords 
 striding amongst ghastly heaps of writhing liuman forms, 
 and dealing awful blows here and there with remorseless 
 fury, sometimes even laughing at the suppliant cries and 
 groans of the wounded wretches, but only driving home
 
 FATAL SEDGEMOOR. 365 
 
 more fiercely tlieir gory blades, with a brutal oath or the 
 exclamation, " There goes another traitor ! " 
 
 As I watched with that awful fascination wliich a 
 scene of horror always inspires, sliivering and shuddering 
 lest my own turn should come next, sense and memory 
 returned to me. I remembered the events of the previous 
 night — the strange dark march to Sedgemoor, the attack 
 in the dead of night, the rout, the fierce irresponsible onset 
 that I had made, and the roar of battle which had been 
 in my ears when I was smitten down, I knew not when 
 nor how. 
 
 But now the battle was over. Now there was nothing 
 but an awful carnage that was not warfare but a shambles. 
 And I lay and watched it, and tried to pray to God to 
 spare me, or to give me courage to die ; and I kept asking 
 in my heart how the battle had gone, though I knew all 
 too well by the sights I saw. 
 
 For they were not our men w^ho were marching to and 
 fro upon the bloody field, slaying without pity all whom 
 they could find. They wore the dress of the regular army ; 
 they had the mien and air of practised soldiers. They 
 challenged one another in the name of the King, and they 
 shouted, " Down with all rebels ! down witli Scott's vaga- 
 bonds ! " as they sent poor half-armed, wounded rustics to 
 their last account. 
 
 I verily believed that Blackbird saved my life that day ; 
 I will say how anon. As I lay in the ditch, wondering 
 whether he too were dead, and whether I should ever be 
 able to rise and stand on my feet again, or whether I
 
 366 FATAL SEDGEMOOR. 
 
 should be despatched by the sword-thrust of one of these 
 bloody men, a groan close at hand told me that I was not 
 alone, and I spoke low, asking who was there. 
 
 " A wounded soldier," was the answer. " I thought that 
 all were dead here in this ditch save me. Art thou from 
 Monmouth's following ? " 
 
 " I came to see the battle. I am no soldier, but only a 
 lad untrained to arms. Who art thou ? And how came 
 the battle to be lost ? Surely we outnumbered the foe ; 
 and we took them unawares in the darkness." 
 
 " It was those accursed horsemen," groaned my unseen 
 companion, who lay behind me in the ditch. " We always 
 said that my Lord Grey would ruin any cause. Had the 
 horse but stood their ground even without striking a blow, 
 we would have won the battle without them. Curse upon 
 those cowards who taught them to flee ! A plague upon 
 Lord Grey and his poltroons ! " 
 
 " What did he do ? what did he do ? " I asked, in great 
 excitement and indignation. 
 
 " Do ? why, fled like a coward after the first charge ; 
 and though we of the infantry came up rank after rank 
 and fired for hours, and would have stood firm and won 
 the battle for the Duke yet if we had had ammunition, 
 those cursed horsemen charged back into the rear and cried 
 that all was lost ; so the waggons made off", and the rear 
 ranks took fright, and all fled helter-skelter as they could. 
 As for us, we stood firm, and fired all our ammunition ; and 
 when all was done, and no waggons came up, and we kept 
 calling, ' Ammunition, ammunition ! for the Lord's sake
 
 FATAL SEDGEMOOR. 367 
 
 ammunition ! ' and none was brought us, we had to lay 
 aside our muskets and take our pikes. And when at last 
 the enemy's horse formed and charged, we were broken to 
 pieces, and fled ; and they came and cut us down like 
 sheep. A curse upon those horsemen who lost us the 
 battle ! " 
 
 The poor fellow did not speak all this in one breath as 
 I have written it down, but in gasps and disjointed frag- 
 ments ; and I found he had heard a part from other 
 fugitives, who had fled with him, but had become confused, 
 as he was himself in the darkness, and had lost themselves 
 upon the moor, wounded and faint, and had been struck 
 down by the weapons of the pursuing soldiers. 
 
 " Where is the Duke ? " I asked ; and the answer came 
 with another groan, — 
 
 " Fled — fled with my Lord Grey, long before we had 
 ceased firing, and when we would have won him the battle 
 yet if the horse had returned and the waggons come up. 
 Ah me ! ah me ! it is not hard to die in a good cause ; but 
 it is hard to be deserted by those who should be our 
 leaders and commanders when the battle is still being 
 fought." 
 
 It was very terrible to lie there and hear all this, and 
 picture that gallant stand of the untrained foot on the 
 edge of the rhine ; and to know that whilst they were 
 firing, firing, firing, and throwing death and confusion into 
 the enemy's ranks, they had been deserted l)y the Duke, 
 and left to their fate by the cavalry and the rest of the 
 army. I could well understand that it might not be all
 
 368 FATAL SEDGE MOOR, 
 
 the fault of my Lord Grey, that the untrained horses 
 miofht soon become unmanageable in the darkness and the 
 tumult, and that a rout was due more to that than to the 
 cowardice of their riders ; but still they need not have 
 communicated panic to the rear of the army. They should 
 have encouraged and not discouraged the fellows behind. 
 But what boots it to muse or to speak thus ? The battle 
 was lost ; the Duke was fled ; and now what lay before 
 those who had embraced his cause ? 
 
 I was soon to see something of that all too near. Steps 
 were heard approaching, and a brutal laugh sounded so 
 close above my head that I shut my eyes and set my teeth, 
 believing verily that my last hour had come. 
 
 " Here is another of them," cried a voice. " A militia- 
 man too — a deserter to the rebels ! Let us take him to the 
 Earl to be hanged, as an example to all loyal folks." 
 
 " Get up, you hound ! " cried another voice ; and I heard 
 the sound of a blow or kick, followed by a groan from the 
 voice of the man who had talked to me. 
 
 " I cannot," he said faintly ; " I am sore wounded. Have 
 mercy, sirs." 
 
 " Mercy for a rebel cur ! You and your fellows will 
 soon see what the mercy of the gracious King is like. 
 Get up, you hound ! " 
 
 Another blow, another groan, and then the first voice 
 said, — 
 
 " Never mind him ; he's not worth the trouble. Kill 
 him, and come away." 
 
 The next moment a sickening sound reached my ears,
 
 FATAL SEDGEMOOR. 369 
 
 as a sword was buried in the unhappj^ man's bod}^ and 
 he expired with a gurglincr groan. 
 
 A cold sweat broke out over me. My head fell back, 
 and my eyes closed. I felt the horse above move slightly, 
 and his head seemed to come down upon mine. For a 
 moment I thought I should be suffocated, and almost cried 
 aloud ; but fear held me mute, and almost at once the steps 
 passed on. Then I felt another movement of Blackbird's, 
 and presently his whole body moved, there was a struggle 
 and a quiver, and he rose and stood upon his feet, looking 
 down at me, and touching my face with his velvet nose, 
 caressing me in his silent fashion, as though he would ask 
 how I fared. 
 
 I had thought him dead all this while. But he was 
 only exhausted, and I verily believe some instinct of self- 
 preservation and the preservation of his master had kept 
 him perfectly still and quiet all this while ; for it was not 
 till the field at this part was deserted of soldiers that he 
 rose to his feet. And when I struggled upon mine I was 
 alone with the dead, and nothing but the reddened earth 
 and heaps of slain to say how the conflict had sped. 
 
 I felt all my limbs, but found none of them broken. I 
 had a wound on both sides of my arm, where a ball had 
 passed through it; and the efTusion of blood must have 
 made me faint, and then have stopped. . I bound the wound 
 with a kerchief and slipped it under my sleeve, that I 
 might not look like a wounded man. I washed my face 
 and hands in a ditch, and rearranged my disordered habili- 
 ments. My plain leather doublet and gaiters did not tell 
 (511) 24
 
 370 FATAL SEDGEMOOR. 
 
 tales, and Blackbird's glossy coat was soon restored to 
 order by a little careful grooming. I had lost my cap ; 
 but there were many lying about the field, and I found 
 a plain one suited to my appearance, and put it on, with 
 a shudder as I thought that its owner was probably lying 
 cold in the sleep of death. 
 
 Having done all this, I mounted Blackbird, and began 
 to pick my way across the plain in the direction that 
 I saw by the sun must lead me back to Bridgewater. I 
 knew that I was liable to be caught and slain at any 
 moment if I met a party of soldiers who suspected me ; 
 but I was too dazed with horrors to feel anything but a 
 sort of numb desire to save myself if possible. If I did 
 perish, I did perish. There was certainly nothing else to 
 be done than to try to get back home. 
 
 As I picked my way across the plain, Blackbird snorting 
 and turning aside again and again from heaps of corpses, I 
 suddenly became aware of a strange sight. Across the 
 plain in front of me there came at lightning speed a wild 
 young horse galloping madly. A rope was round his 
 neck, and the other end of the rope was tied round the 
 neck of a fine-looking young man, who was stripped of 
 almost all his clothing. And fast as the horse ran, the 
 man kept pace with him step for step ; till just as they 
 reached one of the great rhines of which I have spoken, 
 the horse tripped, and fell exhausted, and the man upon 
 him. 
 
 Behind came a number of horsemen, galloping as hard 
 as they could, with much shouting and laughing. Curi-
 
 FATAL SEDGEMOOR. ^571 
 
 osity got the better of prudence, and I rode np and asked 
 wdiat was going on. 
 
 " Marry, it is the Earl's sport," cried the fellow I had 
 addressed. " Yon man was to purchase his life by running 
 with the horse. It was told my lord that he could run 
 with any steed, and he was promised his life if he proved 
 it true. Verily it was a brave run. The horse fell before 
 the man. He has earned his ransom well. Why are they 
 bringing him back ? " 
 
 For the runner had been taken by two troopers, and, 
 panting and exhausted, was being led back in the direction 
 in which all were now moving. 
 
 " Where take they him now ? " I asked, looking with 
 curiosity and awe into the face of a gallant-looking soldier, 
 whose arms and accoutrements and mien pronounced him 
 to be a leader and general. 
 
 " To the camp at Weston, I suppose," answered my 
 informant. " We are about to hang a batch of rebels. 
 Thou hadst better come and see the fun, boy. There will 
 be rare times for the country now ! First they will have 
 military vengeance from my lord the Earl of Feversliam, 
 him yonder with the stern brow and eagle eyes, and from 
 Colonel Kirke and his Lambs, of whom doubtless thou hast 
 heard ; and when these have done their part, the Lord 
 Cliief-Justice Jeffreys will come down and flo liis office. 
 And a rare time you good rebel folks will lia\e wlu-n lie 
 comes. Ho ! ho ! ho ! " 
 
 The laugh which followed made my blood run cold ; but 
 I dared not refuse to follow the band, lest I should draw
 
 372 FATAL SEDGEMOOR. 
 
 suspicion upon myself. It did not appear that anybody 
 so far had troubled to waste a thought upon me. My 
 youth and my hunched back preserved me from suspicion. 
 
 The camp at Weston Zoyland presented a strange and 
 animated appearance. Already the news of the defeat 
 and flight of the Duke had reached far and wide, and 
 farmers and gentlemen anxious to propitiate the victors 
 had come crowding out with hogsheads of beer and wine 
 and provisions of all sorts for the soldiers, together with 
 loyal expressions of good-will, and every appearance of 
 delight at the termination of the ill-starred rebellion. 
 Mirth, revelry, and cruelty were reigning rampant ; and 
 there were nigh upon a score of trembling prisoners only 
 waiting the word of the Earl to be hanged upon the great 
 oak tree, still known as the Bussex Oak, and called by 
 the peasants " Hangman's Oak." 
 
 " String him up with the rest ! " cried Lord Feversham, 
 pointing to the man who had won his race, and whose life 
 liad been promised to him as the reward ; and in spite of 
 his pleading and remonstrance he was dragged off to the 
 tree with the rest. A great fellow with a horrid-looking 
 knife came forward from the group of soldiers, and I 
 knew that his office was to dismember the miserable 
 wretches, probably before they were quite dead, that their 
 heads and quarters might be nailed up in high places, a 
 terror and a warning to others. 
 
 But I could not stay to see it done. A sickening 
 horror possessed me. I turned Blackbird's head, and dug 
 my heels into his sides ; and unnoticed in the crowd and
 
 FATAL SEDGEMOOR. 373 
 
 in the midst of so much revehy and excitement, I galloped 
 oft' along the near road into Bridgewater, which I reached 
 faint and exhausted some time not long after noon on 
 Tuesday morning. 
 
 What a changed place it was from the one I had quitted 
 on the Sunday evening ! Then all had been hope and bright- 
 ness and enthusiasm ; now a look of blank terror was 
 seen stamped upon all faces. The people went about as if 
 afraid each man to look at his neighbour ; and in many 
 houses the shutters were shut and the windows all 
 shrouded, because the families had fled from the expected 
 vengeance, and were striving to put the sea between them- 
 selves and their remorseless enemies. 
 
 In the market-place there were still drawn up some 
 bodies of troops, which had fled there with the horsemen 
 on hearing that the Duke had taken flight and deserted 
 his army. Colonel Hucker was there with his troop, and 
 I sometimes think that even then if the Duke had but re- 
 mained, something might yet have been done to retrieve 
 the fortunes of the day. 
 
 It has been reported of Colonel Hucker that he betrayed 
 the cause of the Duke on Sedgemoor, first by firing the 
 pistol which gave the alarm to the foe, and then by flying 
 with his men before defeat had become a fact ; but those 
 who thus speak do him an injustice, for he never sought 
 to save himself. It is true that had Taunton been 
 fortified he would have been made governor, and he was 
 anxious that this should be done ; but his disappointment 
 on that score never made him disloyal to the cause, as was
 
 374 FATAL SEDGEAfOOR. 
 
 proved by the fact that he sealed it with his blood, when 
 he had ample opportunity to make good his escape had 
 he been so minded. 
 
 The news which I brought of the hangings and 
 massacres on Sedgemoor added to the terror and despair 
 of the people. The bands of soldiers melted away, the 
 poor wretches fearing for their lives, as well they might ; 
 and Bridgewater was left defenceless to the fury of the 
 avenger. 
 
 All that day, men were at work all along the road 
 betwixt Weston and the city, erecting a row of ghastly 
 gibbets ; and before two days had passed, every one of 
 these gibbets bore a horrid burden of human forms — some 
 hung in chains, to remain there for months and years, the 
 last being not removed until the landing of William of 
 Orange. 
 
 I think that when I brought the evil tidings to Mistress 
 Mary and my lord, I gave her a blow from which she 
 found it hard to recover. I well remember the white face 
 and wild eyes she turned towards me, and the way in 
 which she wrung her slim white hands together, looking 
 first at me and then at my lord, as she cried out, — 
 
 " I brought him into this — and the cause is lost ! God 
 has not been on our side. And perhaps he will even have 
 to die for it. And the fault is mine ! the fault is mine ! " 
 
 Then she put her hands before her face, and we saw 
 the tears forcing themselves through her fingers ; and my 
 lord rose up on his elbow and said, — 
 
 " Mary, sweetheart, come hither to me ! "
 
 FATAL SEDGEMOOR. 375 
 
 She came weeping, and kneeling down beside his bed 
 she prayed, — 
 
 " Reginald, canst thou forgive me ? " 
 
 " Nay, I have nothing to forgive, sweetheart. And, 
 dearest, if the cause be good, it is none the less so for 
 being unfortunate. If I have taken up arms for liberty 
 and right, and God sees not fit to crown those efforts of 
 ours with victory, it is not that the cause is not rightful, 
 nor that He will desert the right, but that His time is not 
 yet, or that He has other means in store by which to 
 work. Be not faint-hearted, be not cast down. All this 
 has drawn us but close and closer to one another. I would 
 not have it otherwise ; and thou dost know well, sweet- 
 heart, that I was never very sure of present victory. I 
 did not enter the cause with blinded eyes ; and if I have 
 to lay down my life, as many will, I shall die happy in 
 knowing that thy love has been mine, and that thou wilt 
 be loving me and praying for me to the last." 
 
 " Ah, Reginald, talk not so ! I cannot bear it, I can- 
 not bear it ! Thou shalt not die — thou must not die ! 
 it will break my heart ! " 
 
 " Mistress Mary," I cried suddenly, " methinks indeed 
 that my lord shall not die. Let him but rest here in 
 secret, none knowing where he is, till he be able to take 
 horse again, and I will convey him to a safe asylum, 
 where he may lie hid until the hue and cry be past." 
 And then I told them of the secret chamber in my aunt's 
 house, and how she had promised to hide my lord there 
 if e\'er he should need a safe hiding-place from his foes.
 
 376 FATAL SEDGEMOOR. 
 
 Mistress Mary's face lightened and brightened as she 
 hstened, and my lord smiled too, and gave me a look 
 which reminded me of the charge he had given me to care 
 for Mistress Mary likewise should peril threaten her. 
 
 None knew in the days that must follow who would 
 escape and who would suffer. I might be in no small 
 peril myself, for I had been with the Duke's army again 
 and again ; and though I think that none knew how I 
 had borne arms in that last battle and had charged so 
 madly into the enemy's ranks, yet I knew not that I 
 might not be accused of other crimes, and have to suffer 
 for my love and loyalty in the cause of the Duke. My 
 youth and hunched back had many times saved me from 
 suspicion, but it might well cause me to be known and 
 noticed where others would escape. As I thought of these 
 things I trembled for myself ; but in times of common 
 danger it is strange how quickly one forgets the pressure 
 of fear and personal peril. One grows used to it and 
 ceases to think of it ; and indeed we had too much to 
 think of in the days which followed, too much of present 
 horror to see, to have thought to spare for possible horrors 
 to come. 
 
 " Colonel Earke is coming ! Colonel Kirke is coming ! 
 He and his Lambs are on their way ! " cried the terrified 
 towns-people on that well-remembered Tuesday afternoon, 
 and they all fled to their houses, as though afraid to 
 look upon the face of the conqueror, although they could 
 not but crowd to the windows to see him and his sol- 
 diers bringing in waggon-loads of prisoners and miserable
 
 FATAL SEDGEiMOOR. 377 
 
 wounded wretches, who were to be hanged and quartered 
 at leisure. 
 
 And I must not here omit to mention the noble and 
 godly labours of our good Bishop Ken, the Bishop of Bath 
 and Wells, who came amongst us at this time, and himself 
 went amongst the prisoners, the sick, and the wounded, 
 striving to prepare them for their fate, and doing all that 
 man can do both to ease their condition in their prisons, 
 and to win from the stern military tyrant grace and 
 pardon for numbers who would otherwise have perished. 
 Nor were his labours in vain, for he gained pardon and 
 freedom for many ; and many others were brought to peace 
 and repentance before they met their end, so that they 
 were able to lay down their lives cheerfully and with a 
 good courage. 
 
 But to return to my story and Mistress Mary, of whom 
 I must now write. I stood with her at an upper window 
 of the inn to see the soldiers enter, and as evil fate would 
 have it, there amongst them, riding not far behind Colonel 
 Kirke, was the Rev. Nicholas Blewer ; and it so chanced 
 that his evil eyes, roving restlessly about as they were 
 wont to do, glanced upward in passing at our window, 
 and fixed themselves upon the face of Mistress Mary. 
 
 She did not see him, and resisted when I would have 
 pulled her back, so that he saw her plainly ; and I saw an 
 evil light flash into his eyes, and knew that some plan 
 had instantly formed itself in his cunning brain against 
 my sweet mistress. 
 
 Making a hurried excuse to leave the room, I went
 
 378 FATAL SEDGEMOOR. 
 
 straight to my lord and Miss Blake, who were together in 
 his sick-chamber, the elder lady having altogether refused 
 to see the sight of the enemy's entrance into the town. 
 To them I told what I had seen, and at once both declared 
 that Mary must at once leave Bridgewater and return to 
 her home in Taunton. 
 
 Amidst her own towns-people, where the name of her 
 guardian. Lord Lonsdale, was known and respected, she 
 would be as safe as any person could be at such a time ; 
 but here in Bridgewater, with an army fresh from 
 plunder and slaughter close at hand, in a public-house 
 where entrance could be denied to none, and where nobody 
 knew or had any care for her, she was not safe for a day. 
 She must therefore depart instantly, before Mr. Blewer 
 would believe it possible to accomplish the flight, and never 
 rest till she was safe beneath the roof of Miss Blake's 
 house, which the citizens of Taunton would not permit to 
 be invaded without due and sufficient reason. Mr. Blewer 
 had no friends in that city. He would not be able to 
 effect there (where he was known and distrusted) what he 
 might be able to in this place. 
 
 " And, Dicon," said my lord, when Miss Blake had gone 
 to make instant preparation for departure, " come not 
 back to Bridgewater; but remain at Taunton, watching 
 over Mistress Mary — " 
 
 " But, my lord, you need my care and tendance." 
 " I can do without it if needs be, good Dicon. I have 
 been thinking I would rather thou wert otherwise occu- 
 pied than with me since the defeat on Sedgemoor has
 
 FATAL SEDGEMOOR. 379 
 
 put my head in peril." Then as I was about to protest, 
 he silenced me with one of those movements of his hand 
 which I knew so well, and continued, speaking quietly : 
 " Go to Taunton, and remain there. I am for the present 
 safe ; and more than that none can say for himself. I 
 can pay for the tendance thou hast hitherto given me. 
 And thou must be beside Mistress Mary, to see if any peril 
 threaten her, and convey her away if it do to that cottage 
 where her friend and companion will hide her till the 
 storm be past. Wert thou here I should fret myself 
 into a fever thinking her being carried off by yon mis- 
 creant ; but if thou art close at hand and on the watch, 
 I shall feel that she has a protector." 
 
 I could say no more. Indeed I so loved both my lord 
 and Mistress Mary that I knew not which stood first in my 
 heart, albeit it was to the service of my lord that I was 
 pledged. But if he dismissed me on any mission, it was 
 but for me to obey ; and forthwith I went down to the 
 stables to prepare the horses, and before half an hour had 
 passed we were riding forth together, Miss Blake and 
 Mistress Mary wearing their riding-hoods drawn deeply 
 over their faces, and I riding just behind them, as though 
 I were their servant — as indeed I was. 
 
 All the town had gathered to see the entry of the 
 soldiers — all the people, tliat is, who dared to leave their 
 houses ; people of the poorer sort, to whom a show was a 
 show, be the cause never so evil. 
 
 The streets were almost deserted as we rode through 
 them, and Mistress Mary's head was bent low. She was
 
 3So FATAL SEDGEMOOR. 
 
 weeping to herself, as I well knew, thinking, doubtless, of 
 her joyful entry into the town a few days before, full of 
 hope for the cause, and happy in thinking of seeing my 
 lord again, even though he lay sorely wounded. 
 
 Now she had bidden him adieu. She was parted from 
 him, and in such a time as this none dared to say when 
 and how they would meet again. He was in sore peril, 
 and she in something of danger herself, though I know 
 not if she guessed it. He might well be arraigned for 
 treason, being found in arms against his sovereign. She 
 was the object of vengeful love of a bad man, who would 
 seek to win her by foul means, and having possession of 
 her and her fortune, proceed to break her heart by his 
 cruelty. In sooth, I scarce knew whose peril was the 
 greater ; and right glad was I to reach the shelter of 
 Taunton Town with my fair charge, having seen and heard 
 nothing of pursuit, and having plainly given the slip to the 
 cunning Nicholas left behind in Bridgewater.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 TERRIBLE DA YS. 
 
 HOW is it possible for me to make any understand 
 the unspeakable horror of the days that followed ? 
 Were I even gifted like the great Shakespeare himself, 
 methinks I should scarce succeed in drawing a picture of 
 those days and nights of fear, which were prolonged till 
 men became almost dead to a sense of the peril in which 
 they stood, until some fresh panic and new report set all 
 hearts quivering with fresh affright. 
 
 Soldiers were scouring the country. Miserable fugitives 
 from the army taken in barns and ditches and cabins were 
 either hung up then and there by the soldiers, or brought 
 before the officers to be judged and condemned by them. 
 And these fared even worse than those butchered by the 
 troopers, for they received the horrible sentence of traitors, 
 and had their hearts torn out before their faces or ever 
 the breath had quite left them, and their members and 
 heads dispersed throughout the country to be exposed to 
 public view. 
 
 How well do I remember seeing the first consignment 
 of these ghastly trophies passing along the road, and the
 
 382 TERRIBLE DAYS. 
 
 innkeepers and such like being forced to nail them up 
 before their doors as a warning and terror to the village. 
 Sometimes the air was rendered foul and pestilential for 
 miles by the hanging corpses and horrid trophies. Women 
 kept within their doors for weeks together, being so filled 
 with horror at the sight ; and the whole country was filled 
 with stories of marvellous hairbreadth escapes, or of cap- 
 tures of innocent persons, who were treated with the same 
 cruelty as those who had been in arms — the soldiers scarce 
 taking the trouble to listen to their protests, and brutally 
 telling them that since so many deserving death had es- 
 caped, they must needs die in their stead. 
 
 What fearful days to fall upon England, who had called 
 herself a free country, and whose people had always be- 
 lieved that the innocent were protected from violence by 
 the strong arm of the law ! Alas ! we were soon to find 
 that the most fearful things of all were enacted by those 
 who came in the name of Justice and Law. 
 
 I forget exactly what day it was that news reached us 
 that the Duke had been captured, and was now on his 
 way to London, where, as all men said, nothing could 
 save him from the wrath of the King. Some said that 
 had he not proclaimed himself King he might have had 
 a chance for his life, but that having done this he had 
 nothing to hope, and would end his life upon the scaffold. 
 
 Yet there were numbers of people who declared that he 
 had got off" safe to Holland in disguise, and that he who 
 was on his way to London was not the Duke himself, but 
 some follower whose outward aspect was very like, and
 
 TERRIBLE DAYS. 383 
 
 who had changed clothes with the Duke and allowed him- 
 self to be taken, that his lord might safely escape and live 
 in retirement for a while, and then appear again m his 
 kingdom and fight more successfully for his crown. Tliis 
 belief was held by hundreds and thousands of people in 
 our western counties for years and years, and I remember 
 how long it was before the expectation of again seeing the 
 Duke died out. Some maintained to the end of their lives 
 that he still lived, and that he would have come again to 
 save England had not the tyrant monarch been forced to 
 fly, whilst the just William of Orange ruled (with and in 
 right of his wife) in his stead. 
 
 But we in Taunton had other things more near and 
 personal to think of than whether or not it was the Duke 
 who was taken. The bloody victors were at our very 
 gates, and none in the town knew who would escape when 
 once inquisition for blood was about to be made. Was it 
 not in Taunton that the Duke had been proclaimed King ? 
 Was it not in Taunton that he had received such royal 
 honours, and such help in money and men ? Were not 
 many of his leading officers Taunton men ? And if such 
 signal vengeance had been taken already on the innocent 
 rabble, who had acted ignorantly, how should the citizens 
 of Taunton hope to escape ? 
 
 Well do I remember that Thursday morning when Ave 
 heard the people in the streets shouting out, — 
 
 " Colonel Kirke is coming ! Colonel Kirke is coming ! 
 God have mercy upon us ! Kirke and his Lambs are on 
 their way ! "
 
 384 TERRIBLE DAYS. 
 
 I rushed out into the streets to hear the news, and even 
 as I did so I met a horseman riding into the yard of the 
 inn, as though he came from the army. But I stayed not 
 to ask news of him, for the people were crying out that 
 twenty men were to be hanged in the city that day, and 
 that Master John Mason was of that number. 
 
 All the town was in a terror and tumult, for Master 
 John Mason was a man of most excellent repute, and 
 though he had taken arms in the Duke's cause, he had 
 only fought at Sedgemoor ; and that he of all men should 
 be a victim was a thing not to be borne. 
 
 At our inn, so near to the open Cornhill, all was hurry 
 and confusion ; for Colonel Kirke and his officers were to 
 lodge there, and a banquet was to be prepared for them at 
 the ver}^ hour at which the victims were to be slain. The 
 town stood aghast at the horror of the thing, and awful 
 stories were whispered of Kirke during his governorship 
 of Tangiers. Some believed that he had caused miserable 
 Jews to be burned alive there ; but others said that he had 
 not burned them himself, but had sent them to the Inqui- 
 sition in Spain to be burned there — which seemed not 
 much better. His soldiers were called Lambs, but whether 
 in derision because of their fierceness, or (as some said) 
 because when in Tangiers their banner bore the sign of 
 a lamb, I cannot tell. But at least at the thought of their 
 coming all men's hearts shook with fear, whilst the ladies 
 of the town resolved that they would so petition for the 
 life of Master Mason that even Colonel Kirke would not 
 have the heart to slay him.
 
 TERRIBLE DAYS. 38 5 
 
 There was one, Mistress Elizabeth Rowe, a beautiful 
 and godly matron, blending the graces of youth with the 
 dignity and softness of maturity, and well known to every 
 resident in Taunton. There was also a legend in that 
 city, that a " white woman or woman in white " could 
 always obtain pardon for a condemned criminal ; and good 
 Mistress Elizabeth declared that she would be that woman, 
 and that she would intercede for the life of Master Mason. 
 On hearing that there was great joy, for it seemed to all 
 as though not even the bloody Colonel Kirke could resist 
 so much goodness and beauty ; and as we toiled at our 
 preparations for the ghastly feast, we spoke in whispers 
 of the appeal to be made, and wondered whether it would 
 succeed. 
 
 What a terrible day that was ! The memory of it is 
 yet as clear before my mind as when it was but a week 
 old. 
 
 It was afternoon when we heard the sound of martial 
 music, fifes and drums, and the marching of many feet. 
 All Taunton rushed to window and balcony to look out, 
 and beheld the dark-faced Colonel riding along at the 
 head of his troops. What a difference from the last 
 triumphal entry into Taunton, when all the town was 
 decked with boughs and garlands, and every face beamed 
 with joy ! Now almost all faces were grey with fear 
 and grief. Hardly a citizen but trembled for his liberty 
 or life, or for that of some near and dear one. The few 
 voices raised in acclamation as the Colonel rode through 
 the streets sounded hollow and faint. The drums and 
 (611) 25
 
 386 TERRIBLE DAYS. 
 
 fifes and martial strains of their own men kept the silence 
 from being too ominous. 
 
 At the Three Cups all was hurry and confusion. A 
 great banquet was being prepared in the long upper 
 chamber with the balcony which looked up the Fore 
 Street and towards the Cornhill. But we scarce dared 
 look out of the window ourselves, for just outside, a little 
 to the right, where the space was wide and free, soldiers 
 were hastily setting up a scaffold and gibbet. Close 
 beside this gibbet had halted a cart filled with groaning 
 and wounded prisoners, amongst whom was good Master 
 Mason ; and a whisper had already run through the 
 crowd that they were to be hanged and dismembered that 
 very day as an accompaniment to the Colonel's banquet. 
 
 I am proud to say that no Somersetshire man could be 
 found to do the hideous work of executioner here. The 
 Colonel had had to send for the executioner from Exeter 
 to do his horrid work. This functionary, whose gigantic 
 frame and scowling face were enough to inspire terror in 
 the hearts of all beholders, was already preparing for his 
 bloody task. He had a great axe and two or three sharp 
 long butcher's knives laid out before him, and he was 
 calling to the people to bring faggots and billets for the 
 making of a great fire. 
 
 We knew not for what the fire was intended, but we 
 were to know all too soon. 
 
 Sounds of revelry and mirth soon arose from the upper 
 chamber where the Colonel and his officers were feasting. 
 Little recked those fierce men of the horror and terror and
 
 TERRIBLE DAYS. 387 
 
 agony that reigned in Taunton. They had come to punish 
 rebelHon, and to strike terror into the hearts of all who 
 had been concerned in this thing ; and Taunton above all 
 places had been most deeply implicated. 
 
 How shall I speak of the horrors of that day ? When 
 the carouse was at its height, the Colonel, inflamed with 
 wine, appeared upon the balcony, and his half-drunk 
 officers with him, and gave the signal to the executioner 
 to commence his task. Already a row of twenty gibbets 
 had been erected, and the twenty white and wounded 
 prisoners upon the carts had been set in order beside 
 them. Master John Mason, whom all Taunton knew and 
 loved, was kneeling devoutly, praying for himself and his 
 fellow-sufferers, and heeding nothing of what was passing. 
 Some of those near to him followed his words with tears 
 and ejaculations, and most of these were calm and resigned ; 
 though some, seeing their dear ones weeping in the crowd, 
 could not keep back their own tears, though all striving 
 to face death bravely. 
 
 Then before our eyes in that upper balcony appeared a 
 white-robed figure, and those of us — there were not many 
 — who were in the secret of the petition held our breath 
 to listen, whilst good Mistress Elizabeth upon her knees 
 pleaded for the life of the righteous citizen. Now I was 
 very near to the balcony, being, in fact, just under it, and 
 the parley lasted so long that I feared respite, even if 
 granted, would come too late ; for the halters were about 
 the necks of all the prisoners, and the cart was about to 
 be pushed away from under their feet.
 
 388 TERRIBLE DAYS. 
 
 Suddenly I heard a harsh voice above me saying, 
 " It is granted, madam ; " and then in another tone the 
 same voice said, " Go you, Bushe, and see to it. Tell the 
 executioner to cut the fellow down." 
 
 The next moment one of the younger officers came 
 swaggering half drunk from the inn door, and went up to 
 the executioner and spoke to him. There was a brief 
 parley, and he cut one of the halters through. A man 
 leaped from the cart and dashed away in the crowd, and 
 immediately the rest were swung into the air, and re- 
 mained hanging betwixt heaven and earth. 
 
 " Give them music to their dancing ! " cried the voice of 
 the Colonel, as the legs of the dying men twitched and 
 moved in their last agony ; and the drums and pipes struck 
 up a jubilant strain, which was continued all through the 
 final scenes of that horrid spectacle. 
 
 Why did I wait and watch ? In truth, I was paralyzed 
 by the awful horror of it. One by one the dead or half- 
 dead wretches were cut down, the fierce executioner cleft 
 the senseless trunks asunder by a blow of his axe, and 
 seizing the heart of the victim, tore it from his body and 
 flung it into the fire, exclaiming as he did so, " There goes 
 the heart of a traitor ; " and at each repetition of the words 
 the martial music struck up again, as though some jubilant 
 and joyful thing were being done. 
 
 Yet after all good Master Mason perished with the rest. 
 The Lieutenant Bushe sent by his Colonel to save the 
 prisoner had not the least idea of which one the lady had 
 spoken, and on reaching the gallows had said to the
 
 TERRIBLE DAYS. 389 
 
 executioner, " Cut down that fellow." " Which fellow ? " 
 had been the question, since twenty were there, and 
 Bushe had no idea which it was. Master Mason, ab- 
 sorbed in his prayers, took no heed of what had been 
 passing in the balcony ; but another man had seen the 
 whole, and when the executioner and lieutenant paused 
 in doubt what to do, he looked up and said that he was 
 the man for whom the lady in white had pleaded. So 
 the executioner cut the rope, and he sprang away and 
 vanished in the crowd, as we saw ; and in the confusion it 
 was not known till afterwards that good Master Mason 
 had perished, although his life had been granted to him 
 at the instance of Mrs. Elizabeth Rowe. 
 
 Such things are too often done in the bloody days of 
 war. 
 
 Twenty victims (save one) perished that day, and thirty 
 upon the day following, each time the Colonel holding a 
 great feast, and turning off on the second occasion ten 
 victims with each of his three great toasts — one for the 
 King, one for the Queen, and one for " the great Lord 
 Chief -Justice Jeffreys, who is shortly coming to finish the 
 work that I have just begun." 
 
 As those words were heard, a shudder and a shiver 
 passed through all who heai-d them, and a groan went up 
 that was not altogether a gi-oan of compassion for the 
 last of the batch of victims who were being butchered 
 in cold blood almost in sight of the revellers. We all 
 knew what terrible days would follow the appearance 
 of the Lord Chief-Justice amongst us. We had heard
 
 390 TERRIBLE DAYS. 
 
 enough of his ferocity and brutality before now , what 
 would it be like when we were forced to drink to the 
 dregs the cup of his wrath ? 
 
 Acts of singular ferocity and brutality were daily per- 
 petrated under our very eyes. One man was hanged 
 whilst in a dying state, unable to move hand or foot, 
 scarce living when he was swung into space. Another 
 was hanged three times, and three times cut down to ask 
 if he repented of his crime ; but he boldly answered that 
 were he to have his life given him to live again, he 
 would do just the same. He was at last hanged in 
 chains, and left upon the gallows, like several more, till 
 the coming of William of Orange. 
 
 But amongst all these tales of brutality and horror, I 
 must not omit to mention one incident which reflects credit 
 if not honour upon the cruel and bloodthirsty Colonel 
 Kirke ; and this thing I. was witness of with mine own 
 eyes, so I can testify the truth of it right well. 
 
 In spite of all the horrors of that time, business went 
 on at mine uncle's house as before ; and it so chanced that 
 whilst the Colonel was in the town, and his soldiers more 
 or less ravaging the whole country side, an order arrived 
 from Bishop's Hull (the home of Mistress Mary Bridges) 
 to send thither a hogshead of beer without loss of time. 
 
 Now with the Colonel and his officers quartered in our 
 house, we were not a little pressed in those days ; and my 
 uncle not knowing how to get this hogshead sent, I asked 
 if I might not take the cart and drive it over. I had two 
 reasons for this. One was that I desired if possible to
 
 TERRIBLE DAYS. 391 
 
 get speech with young Mistress Mary about Mistress IMary 
 Mead ; another was that I sometimes felt as though I should 
 go mad with the fear and horror of the sights of Taunton 
 Town. For day by day and all day long the black-browed 
 executioner, and an assistant whom the townsmen called 
 " Tom Boilman," were engaged in boiling in pitch the 
 quarters of the victims of the rebellion ; and the whole 
 place reeked of the awful brew, and turned me sick with 
 horror every time I passed that way. I felt I must get 
 out into the green fields, if only for a few hours. I had 
 been too busy to be spared all this while ; but this errand 
 was in my uncle's service, and I went gladly. 
 
 It was not a long journey to Bishop's Hull ; but the cart 
 travelled at a slow pace, and I did not hurry the horse. 
 It was a relief to leave the streets of the city and the 
 careworn faces of the inhabitants behind, and to see the 
 smiling meadows and innocent, careless life of bird and 
 beast, unshadowed by the horrors that had fallen upon the 
 land. 
 
 But one could not forg^et even here that a reign of 
 terror ruled. Bands of soldiers still scoured the country, 
 seeking after fugitives ; and in almost every principal 
 house in the country round men were quartered, to keep 
 watch both upon the inhabitants and upon any flying to 
 them for succour. 
 
 I knew that there had been soldiers living at free 
 quarters at Bishop's Hull, and doubtless it was for these 
 that the ale was needed. I drove my cart into the great 
 yard of the house, and delivered its contents to the servants
 
 392 TERRIBLE DAYS. 
 
 there. But being anxious to obtain speech of Mistress 
 Mary, I did not immediately go away, but tied up the 
 horse to a ring, and entered into talk with the men of the 
 place. 
 
 Sir Ralph was away, I heard. He had been summoned 
 to meet the Duke of Albemarle, it was thought, or Lord 
 Churchill, and before he left he had arranged for the re- 
 moval of the soldiers who had lived for some time in his 
 house. But to-day some of these had come back and 
 demanded their old quarters, and some perplexity reigned 
 in the place as to what was to be done with them. There 
 was confusion in the house, and one of the servants to 
 whom I spoke, asking news of Mistress Mary, answered, — 
 " Methinks she is somewhere in the great hall. Go in, 
 lad, and fear not. There be too many coming and going 
 to-day for thy appearance to be noted. Go seek her for 
 thyself ; I have no time to go with thee." 
 
 And in truth every servant about the place seemed 
 flying hither and thither. I followed the command given 
 me, and made my way towards the hall of the house, com- 
 ing upon a scene as strange as any it has been my lot to 
 witness. 
 
 Seated in a high-backed chair beside the great empty 
 hearth, that was in this summer season decked with green 
 boughs and great spikes of foxglove — Mistress Mary's 
 liand in every inch of it — was the stately lady of the 
 house, surrounded by some frightened-looking maidens, 
 who were gathered together behind her chair, and seemed 
 to be shrinking in terror from something or somebody.
 
 TERRIBLE DAYS. 393 
 
 As I advanced a few steps further into the hall, I saw that 
 it was half filled by swaggering and tipsy soldiers, who 
 appeared to be clamouring for something which the lady 
 of the house was not willing to grant, and whose scowling 
 and angry looks were the cause of the fright in the faces 
 of the maids. 
 
 A few paces away from her mother, standing at the 
 other side of the hearth, her slight, strong figure drawn to 
 its full height, her face in a quiver of anger and scorn, was 
 little Mistress Mary, such a light in her eyes as I had 
 never seen there before, her hands locked together, and her 
 whole figure instinct with suppressed passion. What had 
 passed before I know not. I think the men had been 
 demanding free quarters again, and that the lady had been 
 telling them that they had been withdrawn by their offi- 
 cer, and that they had no right to come again in such a 
 fashion, or to take that tone with her in absence of her 
 husband, the master of the house and a loyal servant to 
 the King. However that may have been, I can answer at 
 least for what happened next ; for as I appeared upon the 
 scene, one great tipsy fellow, who seemed to be the fore- 
 most of the band, came lurching forward, and offered so 
 great and gross an insult to the stately lady sitting there, 
 that my pen refuses to put it on paper. But mark what 
 followed. Almost ere the words had passed the fellow's 
 lips, with a bound like that of a young tiger Mistress Mary 
 had sprung forward ; and ere any man of us knew or 
 guessed what she was about to do, she had seized the 
 fellow's sword from its sheath, and had run it through his
 
 394 TERRIBLE DAYS. 
 
 heart as lie stood, so that he fell dead at her feet without 
 a groan. A deep silence fell upon us all as we saw this 
 deed ; and Mistress Mary, her face as white as death, but 
 with her eyes still flaming fire, faced round upon the rest 
 of the soldiers and said, pointing first to the corpse and 
 then to the door, — 
 
 " Take him, and go ! " 
 
 Mechanically the men obeyed her ; but some half-dozen, 
 more sober than the rest, lingered behind and said, firmly 
 but respectfully, — 
 
 " Mistress, you must answer for this deed before the 
 Colonel. You must come with us at once." 
 
 " I am ready," answered Mistress Mary, with heroic 
 firmness. " The sooner the better ; I fear none of you ! " 
 
 And indeed she spoke no more than the truth. And 
 never have I seen a more dauntless mien than was carried 
 by that brave child as she rode beside her mother into 
 Taunton that day, guarded by a band of soldiers, and fol- 
 lowed by me in my cart ; for I felt I must see the end of 
 this thing, and bear my testimony, if I might be heard, 
 when the tale was told to the fierce Colonel. 
 
 He was, as was usual at that hour of the day, in his 
 room at the Three Cups ; and upon hearing that a prisoner 
 had been brought to be tried by court-martial, he at once 
 summoned his officers to the long banqueting-room and 
 ordered the prisoner before him. 
 
 When his eyes fell upon the tender maiden, not more 
 than twelve years old, with the dauntless mien and steady 
 eyes, his face changed and even softened as I had never
 
 TERRIBLE DAYS. 395 
 
 thought that face could do ; and he sternly asked his men 
 why they had brought a woman before him, and she scarce 
 more than a child. 
 
 When he heard that it was a military offence with 
 which she stood charged, he bent upon her a searching 
 look, and commanded that all should be told him. Then 
 the men who had brought her told the tale, not indeed 
 extenuating the offence of their dead fellow, but putting 
 the case fairly enough. There was no need for me to 
 speak ; there was no need for Mistress Mary to defend 
 herself. When the Colonel heard the words which had 
 been addressed to the dignified matron standing just 
 behind her brave young daughter, and recognized in her 
 the wife of one of the King's loyal supporters, and the 
 mistress of a house where much kindness and hospitality 
 had been shown to His Majesty's soldiers, his face took 
 an expression of mingled sternness and approval which it 
 is hard to describe; and he said, looking round upon the 
 men who stood by, — ■ 
 
 " Where is the sword witli which the deed was done ? " 
 
 One of the men had chanced to bring it, and it was 
 handed to the Colonel. The stain of blood was yet upon 
 it, although it had been wiped clean from blood-drops. 
 The Colonel took it and rose up in his seat. He made 
 a low bow to Mistress Mary, and handed the sword to 
 her. 
 
 " Mistress Mary Bridges," he said, " you are acquitted of 
 the crime laid to your charge. The action you performed 
 was not only pardonable ; it was legitimate and noble, and
 
 396 TERRIBLE DAYS. 
 
 does you every honour. Would that there were more such 
 women in this land to become the mothers of a soldier 
 race ! Take this sword, fair maiden, take it and keep it ; 
 and let it pass down in times to come to other Mary 
 Bridges of your name and race. May your house never 
 want such a Mary as you have shown yourself, to act with 
 such courage and resolution in the hour of need. — Madam, 
 farewell ! " (this to Lady Bridges). " A brave mother makes 
 a braver daughter. Guard well your child, and honour 
 her as she deserves to be honoured. A maid who will 
 risk her life for her mother's protection is one to grow up 
 the pride and glory of her house. — Mistress Mary, I salute 
 you. Farewell ; I could almost wish that you had been 
 born a boy, that I might have numbered you among my 
 own picked soldiers ! " 
 
 And stooping his dark head the Colonel saluted Mistress 
 Mary on the cheek, and bending low before her, as did also 
 all his officers, saw her pass from the room, holding the 
 sword in her hands. 
 
 A burst of cheering greeted her as she appeared in the 
 streets clasping the trophy of victory. Her face was 
 flushed now, and her eyes sparkling betwixt excitement, 
 triumph, and tears. Her mother's face was quivering now 
 that the peril was past as it had never quivered whilst her 
 daughter stood arraigned before the fierce Colonel. 
 
 " Dicon, Dicon, I cannot face all these people with my 
 sword ! " cried Mistress Mary, a girlish shrinking suddenly 
 possessing her, showing that she was still a maid, though 
 she could act with the couraofe of a man when need was.
 
 TERRIBLE DAYS. 397 
 
 " Take me to Miss Blake's ! Take me to Mistress Mary ; 
 I must see her ere I go back ! " 
 
 Lady Bridges was willing enough to get out of the 
 cheering crowd, and quickly we found ourselves beneatli 
 the shelter of the next roof. Mistress Mary, hearing the 
 tumult, came down the stairs to see what it meant ; and 
 the younger Mary, rushing into her arms, and dropping 
 the sword upon the floor, cried out, betwixt laughter and 
 tears, — 
 
 " Mary, Mary, I have done it ! I have slain, witli mine 
 own hands, one of 3^our Duke's foes ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE PRISONER OF THE CASTLE. 
 
 I SCARCE know how many days had passed after these 
 things before there happened that which was to me 
 more terrible than all. 
 
 The military executions in Taunton were over. Many 
 soldiers remained, but the people ceased to go in terror of 
 their lives — for the moment. An awful sense of coming 
 judgment hung over us. None knew who would be 
 arrested for complicity in the plot, and haled before the 
 terrible judge who was coming shortly. But for the 
 moment there was a slight lull, and the wheels of life re- 
 volved just a little more in their accustomed grooves. 
 
 Sorrow and mourning and fear prevailed in too many 
 homes, however. Master Hucker was a prisoner awaiting 
 his trial. Master Simpson had fled none knew whither, 
 and his sister feared him dead. Both the gentle brothers 
 Hewling had been taken, and were in London for the time 
 being, though it was said that they would be sent down to 
 Taunton to be tried. More homes than I can mention here 
 were desolated by the events which I have been striving 
 to record, and I felt almost heart-broken now when I went
 
 THE PRISONER OF THE CASTLE. 
 
 399 
 
 to my friends the Simpsons ; for Lizzie's face was pale and 
 tearful, and even gay Will Wiseman, ever of a joyous 
 courage in olden days, looked gloomy and troubled. He 
 had loved his master well, and was faithfully serving him 
 now in his absence, and acting almost like a son to good 
 Mistress Simpson, the sister. But they lived in daily fear 
 of hearing of his arrest ; and sometimes Lizzie, weeping 
 with my arm about her — for we were like brother and 
 sister in love — -would say,— 
 
 " Sometimes I think I would almost rejoice to hear that 
 he were dead ! It is such a fearful thing to think that he 
 may even now be brought before that terrible judge who 
 is coming, and have to suffer the awful death of traitor. 
 Oh, if we only knew him safe — -even if it were in the 
 safety of a soldier's death ! " 
 
 For the prisons were filling fast with fugitives and sus- 
 pected persons, and none knew who might be the next to 
 be haled off, there to linger until the Special Commission 
 headed by Judge Jeffreys sat to judge and condemn those 
 who had been concerned in this matter. Many judged 
 those happy who had met a soldier's death, or had been 
 hanged by the soldiers in the first onset. To linger in 
 suspense in a dismal dungeon, often laden with irons, and 
 subjected to cruel privations, only to be brought at last 
 before that merciless man in whose hands the issues of 
 life and death were to rest, seemed harder than a short 
 shrift and a long rope at the hands of Kirke and his men. 
 I know I often thought (shivering lest I might be recog- 
 nized and sent to prison) that if that were so Avith me, I
 
 400 THE PRISONER OF THE CASTLE. 
 
 should live to wish I had perished on the fatal field of 
 Sedgemoor. But my uncle stood high in favour. No 
 word had been breathed against him. Colonel Kirke had 
 called him an honest knave, and a credit to his trade ; and 
 the Snowes had always held a good repute in the town for 
 loyalty and order, wherefore I was let alone. 
 
 But to return to the point from which I started, how 
 may I tell the grief and terror I was thrown into by a 
 sight I saw during the days of that lull which came be- 
 twixt the departure of Colonel Kirke and the arrival of 
 Lord Chief -Justice Jeffreys ? 
 
 I was coming through the streets toward my home, when 
 I perceived a small knot of soldiers, who seemed to be 
 bringing in a prisoner in their midst. Now this had 
 become so common a sight that I might not greatly have 
 heeded it, had it not been that I saw Mr. Blewer riding 
 with the soldiers, his face wearing its most evil smile of 
 malevolent triumph. 
 
 At that sight I looked again at the party, and as I did 
 so my heart stood still within me. There in the midst of 
 the soldiers, partly held and partly tied upon his horse — 
 for he was almost fainting from sickness and his wounds — 
 was none other than my lord the Viscount ; and the party 
 were heading straight for the Castle, into which they pre- 
 sently disappeared with their captive. 
 
 I had followed, speechless and like one in a dream ; but 
 when the portal closed behind them and I was left stand- 
 ing without, I heard a voice in my ear saying in accents 
 of mock sorrow, —
 
 THE PRISONER OF THE CASTLE. 401 
 
 " Alas, good Dicon, that one so young and fair and 
 highly born should be a rebel ! The best grace the young 
 lord can hope to win from the great Lord Justice is the 
 axe instead of the halter. His would be a pretty head to 
 set up over the gateway here ! Alack ! what will Mistress 
 Mary say ? Methinks she had a maid's passing fancy for 
 the fair face of our young warrior." 
 
 The speaker was Mr. Blewer. With a sense of sicken- 
 ing loathing I turned away from the man and rushed 
 homewards, putting the saddle upon Blackbird as quickly 
 as I could, and scarce drawing rein till I stood before the 
 house of my uncle Robert in Bridgewater. 
 
 I found my aunt in tears, and I had no need to put a 
 question before she burst out with the tale. 
 
 " Dicon, we could not help it. We breathed no word of 
 his being here ; and when the soldiers had done their hang- 
 ing and had gone — at least some of them, and the rest were 
 more for carousing and feasting than anything else — we 
 felt able to breathe once more. But there was an evil- 
 faced man for ever prying about, habited like a clergyman, 
 but with little of the nature that befits that office. He 
 asked so many questions from one or another about a 
 maiden he had seen here, that we could not hide from him 
 that Mistress Mary Mead had been a guest here for a while ; 
 but not a word did we breathe of the young lord upstairs 
 — I give you my word we did not ! " 
 
 " I am sure of it, good aunt : I know you had learned 
 to love him right well. None could fail to do so who 
 came into his presence." 
 
 (sn; 26
 
 402 THE PRISONER OF THE CASTLE. 
 
 " Indeed thou speakest sooth, Dicon," she answered. " I 
 waited on and tended him myself ; and never have I seen 
 a gentler and more perfect gentleman, so patient, so grate- 
 ful, so anxious to avoid giving any trouble — as though we 
 grudged what we did for him — and he paying for all like 
 a prince ! I loved him as a son, if I may say it. And yet 
 that evil man, by hook or by crook, and by dint of cease- 
 less spying and prying, got scent of his being here ; and 
 to-day there came a troop of soldiers with an order to 
 search the house for a rebel who was known to be shelter- 
 ing here in disguise. Dicon, when that befell us, what 
 could we do ? To have resisted would not have saved the 
 poor young gentleman, but would have brought all the rest 
 of us to the gallows." 
 
 Her tears broke forth afresh, and I could almost have 
 joined with her in weeping, had it not been that my heart 
 so burned within me in hot indignation against the mis- 
 creant who had spied and betrayed us. As it was, the 
 tears would not come to my relief, and all I said was, — 
 
 " Did he come with them ? " 
 
 " Ay, he did ! They knew not the face of the young 
 lord ; and even when the monster had found him, they 
 would scarce have taken him, so weak and ill as he yet 
 was, as white as a lily, and not able to rise. But yon 
 brutal minister — whom I would I could see beneath the 
 hangman's hands 1 — he swore at them that they were 
 traitors and rebels themselves an they took him not. 
 So he was forced to rise and dress, and was set upon a 
 horse, though no more fit than a new-born babe ; and
 
 THE PRISONER OF THE CASTLE. 403 
 
 whether they get him to Taunton alive the Lord only 
 knows ! Oh may He take a speedy and a bloody ven- 
 geance for all the deeds of blood and horror that have 
 been committed in this city in these last days ! " 
 
 But I could not linger to listen even to sentiments so 
 congenial. I had learned what I had come to learn, and 
 now possessing myself of all my lord's property, and of a 
 considerable sum of money which my good aunt was keep- 
 ing for him — he had contrived to get supplies sent him 
 before I left — I took horse again, Blackbird having been 
 well fed and as willing as ever, and was in Taunton once 
 again ere set of sun. 
 
 What to do next I knew not. At home I was resolved 
 I would not breathe a word of this matter. Mine uncle 
 was striving to forget all other feelings in the one of 
 loyalty to the powers that be. From him I should get 
 nothing but a warning to have nothing to do with rebels 
 and prisoners. From his own point of view he might be 
 right, but I could not rest so long as my lord lay in dur- 
 ance vile, and with nothing before him but the mercy of 
 a judge who was pledged to show no mercy. 
 
 Yet I was so distracted by sorrow and fear that I 
 could think of nothing alone ; and after tossing upon my 
 bed that night in a restless misery, I suddenly came to 
 a resolve. 
 
 " Mistress Mary will counsel me ! " I cried, sitting up 
 and pressing my hands to my hot brow ; and even as I 
 took the resolution to see her so soon as the day should 
 have come, I grew calmer and more hopeful, and was able
 
 404 THE PRISONER OF THE CASTLE. 
 
 to snatch a few hours of much -needed sleep before I had 
 to rise to my day's work. 
 
 Miss Blake's maidens had some of them come back to 
 her, but there was little of regularity in the hours kept, 
 and many pupils had been altogether removed by cautious 
 parents. I was a welcome guest now whenever I appeared 
 within those doors, and my request to-day to see Mistress 
 Mary at once soon brought her down to me into the little 
 parlour, her eyes full of anxious questioning. 
 
 I fear me I broke the evil tidings to her but clumsily, 
 for she went so white that I feared she would swoon 
 away ; but recovering herself with all speed, she clasped 
 her hands together and cried, — 
 
 " Dicon, we must save him, we must save him ! It was 
 I who led him into this peril and strait. Thou and I 
 together, good Dicon, must win his release. Dicon, he must 
 be got out of yon Castle ! He must not stand before that 
 relentless judge ! We must save him ! we must save him ! " 
 
 " Mistress, I will die to save him if I can," I answered ; 
 but she gave me one of her own beautiful smiles as she 
 answered, — - 
 
 " Nay, good lad, thou must live to save him. Dicon, there 
 is no time to be lost. We must think what can be done ! " 
 
 It was this that I had come for, and greatly was I sur- 
 prised by the ready wit and shrewdness displayed by 
 Mistress Mary when we sat down to talk. Methinks she 
 must have spent many hours thinking and pondering upon 
 such chances as these, for she seemed to have a plan al- 
 ready in her head, and she quickly set it before me.
 
 THE PRISONER OF THE CASTLE. 405 
 
 " Dicon, by what thou sayest, I think that they will not 
 dare to cast my dear lord into a dungeon, sick as he is. 
 He is known in Taunton, and the soldiers and keepers there 
 are not monsters like Colonel Kirke's Lambs. Our towns- 
 folk are humane men, and a soldier is but a man after 
 all though he follow a bloody trade. And then money, 
 Dicon, will unlock many a door, and it has pleased Provi- 
 dence to make me rich." 
 
 "I have money, too, laid aside" I answered eagerly, 
 "and every penny of it shall go towards freeing my lord!" 
 
 Again she smiled sweetly, but checked me by her 
 gesture, — 
 
 " Nay, faithful Dicon, thy money will not be wanted for 
 this ; but thy shrewdness, thy cleverness, thy good-will, 
 shall serve us instead. Thou art under no suspicion, there- 
 fore go boldly to the Castle and ask leave to bring to my 
 lord such things as he needs. Prisoners, as thou knowest, 
 live at their own charges, and thou canst represent thyself 
 as sent by his friends with the things needful for him. 
 Then by bribes thou canst win leave to take these things 
 to him thyself. This carnage and slaughter has sickened 
 men's souls within them, and they are readier now to listen 
 to the promptings of mercy than they were awhile back. 
 Make friends with him who has charge of my lord ; make 
 him see that it will serve his purpose best to let thee come 
 and go at will. Doubtless with one weak and ill as my 
 lord, there will be more of mercy and less of strict watch 
 kept than where the prisoner is hale and strong. Be it 
 thine, Dicon, to do all this ; and having thus done, come
 
 4o6 THE PRISONER OF THE CASTLE 
 
 yet again to me and bring me word, and we will talk of 
 what shall be the next step." 
 
 I left the house with many a golden guinea of Mistress 
 Mary's in my pouch, for she would have none even of my 
 lord's money for this ; she would do it all herself. And 
 forthwith did I set myself to the task I had before me, 
 rejoicing that I was able to find so good an excuse for my 
 first visit to the Castle. For it came into my head (my 
 wits being sharpened by all this) to ask my aunt if she 
 could not spare a pair of good fat capons for the Governor 
 there. And this being thought a happy notion by mine 
 uncle, who was, as I knew, all in a fever to keep in the 
 good graces of the authorities, I was quickly laden with a 
 basket containing various good things, and amongst them 
 a bottle of rare good wine, which, however, never found its 
 way to the Governor's table. 
 
 For before I got to the Castle I took and hid this bottle 
 about my person ; and when I had delivered my message and 
 ray load, I began talking first to the porter and then to one 
 and another of the guards who came and went, and who 
 were willing enough to stop and chat about what was 
 going on in the town, and how soon the trials were likely 
 to begin ; until at last I came across the man who had the 
 keeping of my lord the Viscount, and him I asked to speak 
 aside for a moment. 
 
 He had a little slip of a place at the end of a long cor- 
 ridor, where he kept watch ; and when I produced my 
 bottle of wine, his eyes sparkled, and we were friends at 
 once. He told me of the prisoners he had in his charge,
 
 THE PRISONER OF THE CASTLE. 407 
 
 and of Lord Vere, who had been brought in wounded and 
 sick but the day before. He asked me if I thought liis 
 father would send him those things that he needed, as it 
 would go ill with him if he had not some care ; and when 
 I (concealing my exultation under a mask of indifference) 
 said I would ask, and also asked if I might see Lord Vere 
 and learn from him what he chiefly needed, the man made 
 no objection at all, but led me along the passage to a cer- 
 tain door which he opened. I went in with my finger 
 upon my lips, which sign my lord instantly perceived, 
 and spoke not as though he had any special knowledge of 
 me, though most people in the place knew my name by 
 this time. 
 
 He answered my questions, and told me what he most 
 needed. I asked if his wound were severe, and he an- 
 swered that it was mending, though the ride yesterday 
 had inflamed it and brought back some of the fever. But 
 he looked less feeble than I had feared ; and I took great 
 heart at seeing that he was not in a dungeon, but in a 
 small and fairly commodious chamber. The warder told 
 me that the dungeons were full ; and I told him I was 
 sure I could get him money from my lord's friends if he 
 could make shift to keep him there. The man winked at 
 that, and said that so long as he was sick he would not be 
 moved ; and I winked back and said he had better keep 
 him sick, and he would get money. 
 
 Next day I was there again with such things as my 
 lord had asked for. I did not seek to go into the room 
 that time, feigning no especial interest in him, but stayed
 
 4o8 THE PRISONER OF THE CASTLE. 
 
 chatting with the warder, and I gave him a broad crown 
 piece as an earnest of more to follow if the prisoner were 
 well looked after. Next day I brought some things I 
 professed to have forgotten, and another bottle of wine for 
 the man ; and this time he bid me go in to see how well 
 he had cared for the patient, that I might tell the same to 
 his friends. And as he was anxious to finish the wine 
 before his fellow came to relieve guard, he locked me for 
 a short while into the room with my lord ; and I spent 
 every moment in eager talk, and in examining the place, 
 that I might know whether there was any hope of get- 
 ting him safe away out of it when he was strong enough 
 for flight. 
 
 I soon saw that this little chamber was in the south side 
 of the building, a little to the left of the gateway as you 
 stand facing it, and situated about half-way betwixt that 
 and the round tower at the corner. From the window, 
 which was heavily barred, there was a drop of perhaps 
 forty feet into the enclosure behind the wall which lay all 
 round the Castle. But this wall was neither very high 
 nor very closely guarded ; and I had a wild hope that it 
 might not prove an insurmountable difficulty if once we 
 were free of the Castle itself. A dark night would have 
 to be chosen, and many things would have to be thought 
 of first ; but I did not despair either of bribing the jailer 
 to secrecy, or of making him an accomplice in the flight. 
 Then let us but once get quit of the Castle, and I knew 
 of a safe place of retreat for my lord till all hue and cry 
 should be over.
 
 THE PRISONER OF THE CASTLE. 409 
 
 Days and even weeks flew by all too fast for us ; for my 
 lord recovered but slowly, and until he was sound once 
 more it would be hopeless to think of such a thing as escape. 
 A long ride of twelve miles into Ilminster was the first use 
 he must make of his liberty ; and if he had not strength 
 to accomplish that, what use to get him out of prison ? 
 July had merged itself into August, and August was waning 
 towards September, and men spoke with shuddering dread 
 of the coming Great Assize, when the fate of all prisoners 
 would be settled, and yet only by very, very slow degrees 
 had my lord struggled back to health ; and even now, for 
 lack of air and his wonted exercise, he was wan and white 
 and thin, albeit now able to leave his bed, and walk to and 
 fro for an hour together in his chamber. 
 
 Meantime with the jailer I had become great friends, 
 and he was quite fond of my lord likewise ; moreover, he 
 whispered to me that the Governor was greatly interested 
 in the young man, that he was very friendly with Lord 
 Lonsdale (who had been in London all this while, and had 
 not sent a message to his son), and that he was very sure 
 he would be glad, and indulgent to those concerned, if the 
 young nobleman should make good his escape before the 
 bloody work of Jeffreys should commence. The warder 
 told me this with bated breath, and a look in his eyes 
 which gave me my cue ; so I told him that I knew I 
 could get him twenty guineas forthwith from one who 
 loved the Viscount, and twenty more if the thing should 
 succeed, to help me to get him safe out of the Castle before 
 the Judore should come.
 
 410 THE PRISONER OF THE CASTLE. 
 
 At this the man's eyes glistened, and he said that I 
 might count upon him. He would have done it for less, 
 seeing that the young lord was so gentle and kind to all, 
 but for that sum he would take care that nothing mis- 
 carried ; and I went to Mistress Mary triumphantly with 
 my news. 
 
 But I found her less exultant than I was myself when 
 she knew all ; and she said with anxious eyes, — 
 
 " To get him safe out of the Castle is much, good Dicon, 
 but it is not all. The city is full of soldiers, and these be 
 not kindly men such as they in the Castle. Some are 
 Colonel Kirke's Lambs, and others the fierce soldiers of Lord 
 Feversham. They watch with terrible sharpness those 
 who come and go, and they keep watch by night as well 
 as by day. Two riders faring forth at any hour of the 
 night will scarce get clear of Taunton streets ; and to be 
 caught and taken back to prison will be worse than to wait 
 there for what may betide." 
 
 I listened aghast to Mistress Mary, recognizing at once 
 the truth of her words, and feeling my heart sink into my 
 very shoes. All this while I had never thought of aught 
 but getting my lord safe out of the Castle ; and now, when 
 this seemed to be a thing possible at last, I was confronted 
 by another and perhaps a worse danger. 
 
 " Could he not be hidden away ? " I asked. 
 
 " Mr. Blewer would find out he was escaped, and raise 
 all Taunton after him," answered Mistress Mary, " and such 
 places as thou or I know, Dicon, would first be searched." 
 
 She was silent then a great while, and I had no heart
 
 THE PRISONER OF THE CASTLE 411 
 
 to speak ; but suddenly she raised lier head and looked me 
 full in the face with shining eyes. 
 
 " Dicon," she said, " I see how it must be done ! " 
 
 " Oh how, fair Mistress ? " 
 
 " It must be done, not in the dead of night, but at 
 break of day. He must ride forth with thee when the 
 town is beginning to stir." 
 
 " Mistress Mary," I cried aghast, " all the town will 
 know him ! " 
 
 She smiled, and touched my hand with her slim white 
 fingers. 
 
 " Foolish boy ! " she said softly ; and then after a pause 
 for thought she added, " Dicon, wilt do as I say ? " 
 
 " To the death. Mistress ! " 
 
 " Then at sunrising to-morrow morning be at this door 
 with Blackbird and Lady Jane, and we will forth into the 
 fresh morning air together. Then will I tell thee more." 
 
 " I will not fail you. Mistress," I said ; and I went home 
 in a great perplexity. 
 
 With the first grey light of dawn I was before the house 
 with the horses, and Mistress Mary came forth clad in a 
 long grey riding-dress and a grey cloak and hood. This 
 hood she wore drawn well over her face, as indeed it was 
 the fashion of maidens to go in the streets, with so many 
 bold soldiers swaggering about. 
 
 We rode quietly down the roads, the soldiers looking at 
 us, and sometimes challenging us ; but there being naught 
 about us to excite remark or suspicion, we were sufiered to 
 go on our way.
 
 412 THE PRISONER OF THE CASTLE. 
 
 We rode some miles almost in silence, and as we were 
 returning Mistress Mary said, " Dost understand, Dieon ? " 
 
 " No, Mistress, not yet." 
 
 " Come every day at dawn for me so. We ride forth 
 thus day by day till every sentry in Taunton knows us. 
 Then some morning there shall another rider sally forth 
 with thee in this grey habit and cloak, and this hood well 
 drawn over his brows. He shall ride this steed and on 
 this saddle — though his own good horse shall be waiting 
 at some appointed place. And who will seek to stop you 
 then, or even give a passing glance ? Say, good Dicon, 
 dost thou see lio-ht now ? "
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 JUST IN TIME. 
 
 DAYS fled by apace. Mistress Maiy and I continued 
 our daily morning ride till every sentry and guard 
 within the place must have seen us. Often we were 
 stopped and questioned at first, or looked at with suspi- 
 cion ; but by degrees less and less notice was taken of us, 
 and at last we came and went unmolested, and we knew 
 our object was gained. 
 
 Meantime my lord steadily regained his strength, but 
 not so fast as our impatience wished. We were ever in 
 fear lest something should go wrong, lest something should 
 happen to remove our friendly warder from the charge of 
 my lord ; and every day as it passed was crowded with 
 anxieties and terrors. 
 
 These terrors were not lessened by what was happening 
 all around us. 
 
 Every day arrests were made of persons suddenly 
 accused of favouring the rebellion of the Duke. The 
 Bridewell by Tone Bridge was crowded to suffocation with 
 helpless, hapless prisoners awaiting the coming of the 
 merciless Judge ; and one day, to my horror and amaze, I
 
 414 JUST IN TIME. 
 
 heard from the weeping Lizzie Simpson that Will Wise- 
 man had been haled off to prison that very day, she was 
 certain at the instance of that wicked man the Rev. 
 Nicholas Blewer ! 
 
 I might well tremble with fear on hearing that news ; 
 for if Will's youth did not protect him from the malice of 
 his enemy or the penalty of the law, neither would mine 
 protect me ; and the rancour of Mr. Blewer against me 
 might be, for all I knew, as great as it had always been 
 against Will since that unlucky drawing of his. I shook 
 in my shoes as I heard the news, and I said to myself in 
 breathless gasps, — 
 
 " Suppose they came and took me — before my lord was 
 safe ! " 
 
 Already the implacable Judge Jeffreys had reached 
 Winchester, and with shuddering horror and many deep- 
 toned execrations we heard of his vile and inhuman treat- 
 ment of the noble and innocent old Lady Lisle. If an 
 aged and honoured matron of high birth and spotless 
 character could be ruthlessly condemned to a fiery death,, 
 and a reluctant jury bullied and coerced into passing a 
 verdict against her, what could we of Taunton hope ? A 
 thrill of terror and horror ran through the whole place, 
 and every face one saw was white and stern and set. 
 
 I went that very day to take my lord some provisions 
 and other things, and to see if the flight might not be 
 made that very night ; and when I had crossed the moat 
 and made my way into the Castle, where I was well 
 known by this time, the friendly jailer beckoned me aside
 
 JUST IN TIME. 415 
 
 into his little narrow room, and whispered some news in 
 my ear. 
 
 " Some prisoners are to be removed to-night from the 
 Castle to the other prison," he said. " They must have 
 more space here now that the Assize is coming so near, 
 and there be so many to be lodged here. I have orders to 
 remove my lord elsewhere — not to Bridewell, but to some 
 underground place here, whence we might never be able 
 to get him out. But I will make shift to bring him forth 
 with the rest of the prisoners who arc to be taken away ; 
 and then, boy, thou must be ready to hide him somewhere 
 for the night, and get him forth from the town at day- 
 break. He will not be missed from the Castle till I give 
 the alarm on the morrow — and I will take care to do that 
 none too soon — and at the Bridewell he is not expected, 
 so there will be no question as to him there. Thou must 
 lie in waiting beside the deep recess nigh to the biidge ; 
 and when we pass towards the prison, I will see that in 
 the darkness my lord is pushed out of the line and into 
 thy keeping. Have the maid's hood and habit to throw 
 over him forthwith ; and then get him safe away to some 
 friendly place of shelter till you can ride forth without 
 fear from the town in the early morning light." 
 
 I listened with all my ears, my heart beating joyfully, 
 for the detail of my lord's flight from the Castle had 
 always been full of difhculty even witli this man's ready 
 help. My lord was weak, and unable for great efforts, 
 and there were the outer wall and the moat to be crossed ; 
 and save by swimming one scarce knew how that last
 
 41 6 JUST IN TIME. 
 
 transit was to be made at such an hour of the night as we 
 must choose. We had waited and hoped for some favour- 
 able conjunction of circumstances ; but none had as yet 
 arisen, and the guards were often changed at the gates, so 
 that overtures of friendship commenced and carried on for 
 a time became so much labour lost when the next change 
 was made. 
 
 Now, however, came this happy chance, only just a 
 short while before the dreaded day of the Judge's entrance. 
 
 How my heart beat as I posted myself in the appointed 
 place that evening after dark ! The night favoured us, 
 for it closed in very gloomy and wet, the rain falling softly 
 and steadily from low-hanging clouds that quite obscured 
 any faint light from moon or stars. In my hiding-place it 
 was as dark as pitch ; and I crouched against the wall for 
 shelter, straining my ears as the minutes passed by for the 
 sound of approaching tramp of feet, my heart often grow- 
 ing sick within me as I waited and watched, in fear lest 
 some fresh fiat had gone forth and the change of the 
 prisoners' habitation had been given up. 
 
 In my anxiety to be in time I was much too soon, and 
 the time of waiting seemed well-nigh interminable. I had 
 almost resolved to come forth and wend my \^^ay to the 
 Castle for news, when I heard in the distance a measured 
 tramp of feet, and drew back once more with a sense of 
 sickening expectation for the procession to pass. 
 
 Nearer and nearer came the tread of many feet. I 
 heard the voices of the guard as they uttered maledictions 
 on the weather and on the dirty and uneven state of parts
 
 JUST IN TIME. 417 
 
 of the road. I crouched in my hiding-place and held my 
 breath. They were close beside me ; they were already 
 passing ! Oh, had this plan failed ? where was my lord ? 
 
 " Hist, Dicon, be ready ! " It seemed as though the 
 whisper was in the air. A second body of men passed me. 
 I could hear, but could see nothing. In a moment I felt 
 a figure slip beside me in the embrasure, and with a great 
 throb of heart I whispered, — 
 
 " My lord ! my lord ! " 
 
 " It is I, Dicon," answered the well-known voice, 
 though the tone was very low, and methought sorrowful. 
 But I said no word, only hasted to get the grey habit and 
 cloak and hood arranged in the darkness ; and by the time 
 that was done every sound had died into silence, and 
 nothing but the murmur of the river and the plash of 
 the rain fell upon our listening ears. 
 
 " Come, my lord," I said, and took his hand, and to- 
 gether we glided out of our hiding-place and began re- 
 tracing our way through the streets. It was late, and the 
 towns-folk were in bed. The prisoners had been moved 
 only after the hour for the city to be asleep. Perhaps the 
 Governor feared some attempt at rescue, perhaps some 
 moving and heart-rending scene on the part of friends or 
 relatives. At any rate, his orders had been given for a 
 night move ; and to this, and to the clever management of 
 our friendly jailer, we owed my lord's escape from those 
 grim walls. 
 
 He let me lead him whither I would ; and I had his 
 place of hiding all arranged. My low knock at a side 
 (511) 27
 
 4i8 JUST IN TIME. 
 
 door was instantly answered ; and the next moment the 
 door closed upon us, a ray of light streamed out upon the 
 little group gathered in that place, and my lord passing 
 his hand across his eyes, spoke for the first time in the 
 exclamation, — 
 
 " Mary ! Mary ! " 
 
 For it was Mistress Mary who was standing before him, 
 and Miss Blake who held the lantern and gazed with eager 
 joy upon the rescued captive. It was to the house of this 
 brave and generous lady that I had brought my lord, and 
 that by her own desire. 
 
 "It will be safer so," she had said when I told her of 
 the plan. " Come to the little side door. None will hear 
 or see you ; and then when the morrow comes, and my 
 lord fares forth disguised as Mistress Mary going for her 
 morning ride, it will be best that he should sally forth 
 from this door. Bring him hither then, Dicon. Let the 
 children see each other once again ; for in these perilous 
 times there is no telling, when we once are sundered, when 
 we may meet again." 
 
 This was almost the first knowledge I had that Miss 
 Blake looked upon her own position as one of peril. But 
 I read in her eyes then that she did ; and yet she was 
 willing to harbour a fugitive beneath her roof, knowing 
 that for such an offence Lady Lisle had but just been con- 
 demned to be burnt alive ! 
 
 I think that weak women are often braver than men. 
 All honour to the lady who opened her doors to us that 
 niarht !
 
 JUST IN TIME. 419 
 
 I could not, however, linger. I wished not to arouse sus- 
 picion by my movements, and I slipped away and into the 
 inn and up to my room without meeting a soul. My uncle 
 did not trouble much about my comings and goings, and I 
 knew how to go in and out at will, even when the doors 
 were closed. But there was little sleep for me that night. 
 I tossed and turned upon my bed, thinking of every sort 
 of mishap that might occur to hinder my lord's flight ; 
 and with the very earliest of the dawn, when there was 
 scarce light to dress myself by, I arose, and was soon in 
 the stable feeding the horses and wondering how I should 
 feel when next I performed that office here, and whether 
 I should ever return to Taunton save as a prisoner, to 
 await my trial with the rest. 
 
 I dare not go much before my usual time to fetch my 
 charge from Miss Blake's house, else might our unwonted 
 promptitude excite remark. It was a clear, bright Sep- 
 tember morning, and the sun was beginning to rise in 
 the east when at last I stood before the door and knocked, 
 feeling all the while as though my own heart were 
 knocking at my ribs loud enough to be heard by all the 
 town. 
 
 The door opened, a veiled and muffled figure came out, 
 and but for the extra height — and Mistress Mary was 
 taller for a woman than my lord for a man, so that the 
 discrepancy was not so very great — I should never have 
 guessed but that it was my lady herself. In another 
 minute we had commenced our ride through the yet quiet 
 streets, few persons being about save the sentries, who
 
 420 JUST IN TIME. 
 
 scarce cast a glance upon us as we moved leisurely along ; 
 and indeed, now that he was sitting the horse woman 
 fashion, it would take a clever pair of eyes to detect any 
 difference from my companion of every day. And with 
 each turning passed my heart leaped up within me, for 
 safety seemed to be already gained, and once free of 
 Taunton — 
 
 But there my meditations came to a sudden end, my 
 heart seemed to stop beating till my head felt like to 
 burst, and a mist swam before my eyes ; for there half a 
 street ahead of us, but standing still as if for us to come 
 up, was Mr. Blewer, mounted on a horse, and looking at 
 us with such an ugly leer in his eyes that I felt as though 
 he already knew all, and that we were undone. 
 
 There was shadow still in the street, and my lord wore 
 the hood drawn right over his face, as Mistress Mary was 
 wont to wear it. Nothing could be seen of his face at 
 such an hour ; but what if the cunning foe had divined 
 our plan, and insisted on looking beneath ? 
 
 " My lord, my lord, have a care," I whispered, " or we 
 are undone ! Mr. Blewer is about to address us." 
 
 That was all I had time to say. Already we were ap- 
 proaching the waiting horseman ; and he, making a sweep- 
 ing bow with his hat, and giving one of his most hideous 
 smiles, reined alongside my lord's horse and said, — 
 
 " Fair Mistress Mary, I have seen thee pass up and 
 down these streets these many days with thy faithful 
 servant. Methought thou wouldst not disdain another 
 escort, and the temptation to join thee was too strong for
 
 JUST IN TIME. 421 
 
 flesh and blood to resist. Say, sweet mistress, hast thou 
 no kind word for me ? Knowest tliou not yet how deej) 
 is the devotion of thy poor servant and humble suitor ? " 
 
 There was no answer from the veiled figure, only the 
 head was drawn up with a haughty gesture, so like that 
 of Mistress Mary when angered that I could have smiled 
 had I dared. I breathed a little more freely. I saw that 
 no suspicion had entered yet the evil mind of this man. 
 He believed that he was addressing Mistress Mary ; and I 
 racked my brains to think of any means whereby this 
 delusion could be kept up, and our most unwelcome attend- 
 ant dismissed without his suspicions being aroused. 
 
 Giving him a look and a wink, as though I had some- 
 thing to say to him, I drew his attention off for a 
 moment from the one he supposed to be Mistress Mary. 
 Having done so, I dropped behind ; and he, after speaking 
 once more to the silent figure beside him, and receiving 
 no answer, looked back at me, and on receiving a nod, fell 
 behind too ; whilst the grey-clad figure rode on ahead, as 
 though glad to be rid of us both. 
 
 May Heaven pardon me for my falsehood that day ! I 
 have learned, since I have come to think seriously upon 
 such matters, that it is wrong to seek to meet evil by 
 evil, and that to be false in order to outwit the cunning of 
 others, or to stoop to evil practices to secure good ends, is 
 a thing abominable in the eyes of God, albeit there is too 
 much of it mixed up in the things of this world. But I 
 was then only a lad. I felt that I would risk all I ]mjs- 
 sessed in this world and the next for the safety of my
 
 42 2 JUST IN TIME. 
 
 lord ; and I had not been taught to look with abhorrence 
 upon all crooked ways. Wherefore I had rapidly turned 
 over in my mind how best I could deceive the miscreant 
 who rode beside me, and I spoke to him false words with- 
 out a qualm of conscience. 
 
 " Sir," I said, in a whisper that bespoke good fellowship, 
 " if you really would wed with Mistress Mary, you would 
 do well to wait three more days till my Lord Lonsdale be 
 come back to his house. I have heard that he will then 
 summon Mistress Mary home to him there, thinking 
 Taunton no safe place for her when once the inquisition 
 of blood begins. Then let her once be there, safe in his 
 care, and I am sure he will welcome any godly man who 
 comes to woo and wed her. Mistress Mary has said as 
 much herself. I sometimes think her heart is failing her, 
 and that she will soon be willing to save herself from peril 
 by doing her guardian's will, and wedding with the hus- 
 band he has chosen." 
 
 Mr. Blewer's eyes sparkled greedily. Sometimes I won- 
 der that he believed me, knowing, as he must certainly 
 have done, of the way in which I had been mixed up 
 with the cause of the Duke and with my lord. But 
 then, again, mine uncle had given it out all through the 
 place (although I knew it not at the time) that I had 
 gone forth as a spy, and that my mission was to send him 
 news of the movements of the rebels — and there was 
 enough truth in this to bear out his words ; and since he 
 himself had gained a character for trimming his sails to 
 the prevailing winds, it was not altogether unlikely that
 
 JUST IN TIME. 423 
 
 I, his kinsman, should have caught the trick from him. 
 Also a man is always prone to believe that which accords 
 with his desires. 
 
 Wherefore Mr. Blewer looked eagerly at me, and asked 
 in a yet lower whisper, and with an air of confidence and 
 good-will,- — 
 
 " Then thou thinkest, good Dicon, that her heart is 
 already inclining towards me ? " 
 
 " I think it will incline more and more if you, good sir, 
 will hold aloof for a while, and let her feel her loneliness. 
 My lord the Viscount, for whom she had a maid's fancy, 
 is in prison, and like to die, as all men say, if not of his 
 wounds, yet by the hand of the executioner ; and all those 
 whom she most loves are in prison or in peril. Doubtless 
 she will soon feel the need of some strong man's arm to 
 lean upon. Only try her not too soon. Let her first feel 
 her guardian's displeasure. Let him first set before her 
 the peril in which she stands for her handiwork, and 
 meddling in the matter of those banners and colours. 
 Afterwards she may incline the more to one who seeks her 
 in her hour of trouble and desertion. But seem to come 
 to her then as a deliverer. Trouble her not now, whilst 
 her heart is still proud, and she is still buoyed up with 
 false hopes. Let her hear a little more of the work of the 
 Judge, which has but now commenced. Methinks that 
 will bring her to her senses." 
 
 " Boy, thou dost talk like a philosopher and a student 
 of women. Whence dost thou get such wisdom at thy 
 years ? "
 
 424 JUST IN TIME. 
 
 " Nay, good sir, it is not wisdom ; it is but knowing 
 something of the whimsies of maids from having sisters at 
 home who are as contrary as the winds of heaven. And 
 now, an it please you, sir, I must join my lady ; but if you 
 will wait for another day, I think your suit will be the 
 better forwarded." 
 
 Mr. Blewer looked first at me and then at the figure in 
 front as though in deliberation ; but at last, to my infinite 
 relief, he reined in his horse and said, — 
 
 " So be it, Dicon ; thou mayest be right. And I will 
 make my lady answer for this pride and haughtiness in 
 days to come." 
 
 So then he turned and rode back whence he had come, 
 whilst I joined my lord ; and we soon left Taunton behind, 
 and knew that for the present our perils were over. 
 
 Three miles away, at a little obscure farm-house, I had 
 a horse ready for my lord. All that had been settled 
 days ago, none knowing what sudden change might cause 
 us to make our attempt without much warning. I in- 
 tended, however, to take Lady Jane the whole way, and to 
 let my lord ride woman fashion into Ilminster in the dusk, 
 cloaked and hooded as before ; for there were soldiers on 
 the watch in every town, and we should be far less like 
 to draw notice upon ourselves thus than if my lord rode 
 openly into the city, where his face might like enough be 
 known. 
 
 So we had a very gentle and easy day, stopping long at 
 the lonely farm to rest ; and I wondered at his silence and 
 sadness, since our journey had so far been crowned with
 
 JUST IX TIME. 425 
 
 success. But he smiled when I asked him, and made 
 answer, — 
 
 " My sadness is not for myself, good lad ; thanks to thy 
 courage and quickness and my Mary's devotion, all has 
 gone well with me. But I cannot forget those poor, 
 simple fellow-prisoners of mine, who went with me from 
 the Castle but yesterday, and who may so soon be called 
 upon to die a terrible death. They have been so much 
 less guilty than I. They followed like sheep where they 
 were led. In their simple souls was no thought but of 
 victory and an easy triumph for a rightful King. And 
 they must die like sheep ; whilst I, who knew better the 
 two sides of the picture, and who rebelled against the 
 reigning sovereign with open eyes — I am to escape all 
 consequences, whilst others suffer the full penalty of the 
 law. I cannot but be sad. I could weep tears of blood. 
 Were it not for my Mary's sake, methinks I would even 
 now give myself up, and die with the rest." 
 
 I loved him for his gentle words, but I sought to com- 
 fort him too. 
 
 " It would not help them for you to die, my lord." 
 
 " No, else would I die for them," he said. 
 
 The day passed in short journeys and frequent halts, 
 chiefly at places where I knew the people and was sure of 
 a welcome. The last halt we made was but three miles 
 from Ilminster ; and there we abode till the dusk fell and 
 we could ride into the town under cover of the evening 
 shadows, yet not so late as to attract notice or remark. 
 
 My lord donned the grey habit once again, and leaving
 
 426 JUST IN TIME. 
 
 his own horse at the farm till I should fetch it thence, 
 took Lady Jane and the side saddle, and so rode through 
 the gathering twilight into Ilminster. There I was hailed 
 by one or two friends, all anxious for news of relatives 
 and friends in Taunton. I showed no haste nor anxiety 
 in holding parley with them ; and when one asked me 
 who was my companion, I answered at once that it was 
 a maid on her way to her friends at Lyme, and that I 
 had promised her a bed at my aunt's house, whither her 
 friends would fetch her on the morrow. 
 
 And thus talking and explaining we rode through the 
 streets, till we alighted at my aunt's door. 
 
 Right gladly did she receive me, and right kindly did 
 she greet my companion, whom she took at the first to be 
 a maid, until I whispered a word in her ear, and got a 
 squeeze of the hand in reply. But so long as her servants 
 were about the place, she made as though my lord were in 
 truth a maid, and only when we were alone together in 
 the guest-chamber did she permit herself to welcome him 
 as his own self. 
 
 The secret chamber was ready, and with some pride and 
 pleasure she took us up, and showed us all the arrange- 
 ments made for the comfort of the fugitive. 
 
 " If it be but changing one prison for another, my lord," 
 she said as he would have thanked her, only that she put 
 his words aside, " I will answer for it that you shall lack 
 nothing here ; and that so soon as this cruel and wicked 
 Judge has gone, and peace settles down once more upon 
 this unhappy land, its doors will open for you, and you
 
 JUST IN TIME. 427 
 
 will go forth to j^our friends, whilst I shall have knoAvn tlie 
 honour and pleasure of saving the life of Lord Lonsdale's 
 son." 
 
 " Madam," said my lord, " words are all too poor as a 
 medium of thanks. But tell me, are you sure that no 
 hurt can fall upon you for this good deed ? If peril were 
 to threaten you for this act of charity to me, I would 
 sooner go forth into the street now, and give myself into 
 the hands of the guard to do with me as they would." 
 
 " Hoots, my lord, talk not so wildly ! " answered my 
 aunt, giving him a motherly j)at on the shoulder. " There 
 is not a soul in this house that knows of this chamber 
 here. Not a soul in the town wishes me ill, or would 
 speak a word to trouble me. We will soon contrive, 
 Dicon and I, that the household believes the maid who 
 entered my doors leaves again on the morroAV. Go to 
 bed, laddie, go to bed — that is the only place you are fit 
 for — and leave Dicon and me to settle all the rest. He 
 shall bring you a supper before long that will be better 
 than prison fare ; and then to rest and get sound and 
 strong is all you will have to think of this many a day." 
 
 I waited on my lord, and soon saw him betwixt the fine 
 woven sheets of my good aunt's spinning, on a bed so soft 
 that he said it was enough to send him to sleep of itself. 
 Indeed after he had partaken of the good cheer prepared 
 for him, he quickly sank to sleep, feeling that at least no 
 prison walls enclosed him, and that if he were not yet a 
 free man, he was on the way to freedom. The terrible 
 days that were threatening Taunton would not touch him.
 
 428 JUST IN TIME. 
 
 My aunt and I sat far up in the night talking in low 
 tones of the fearful things that were everywhere happen- 
 ing. Every fresh person one saw in those days had some 
 new story of horror to unfold. Ilminster had its tale of 
 citizens languishing in different jails till the Judge should 
 pass sentence upon them ; and every house had its cause 
 of fear, or at best was saddened by the shadow which had 
 fallen upon others. 
 
 With the first light of day I was up, and had brought 
 round Lady Jane, saddled for the maid ; and out to me 
 came my aunt, robed in the grey hood and habit — for her 
 figure being tall and spare, none who saw her would know 
 any difFei-ence ; and the neighbours beginning to open 
 their windows nodded to me and wished me a good 
 journey, whilst they spoke kindly to my companion, whom 
 they took to be a girl in a humble walk in life, and who 
 gave them a low-toned answer of thanks. 
 
 Then we started, I leading the horse by the bridle ; and 
 only when clear of the town did my aunt dismount from 
 her unaccustomed perch, take from the bundle she carried 
 her own head-gear and cloak, and, leaving me to dispose 
 of Lady Jane as I would, made her way back by another 
 route to the town, and was seen in the market as usual 
 making her daily purchases. 
 
 As for me, I took Lady Jane to the farm where Lord 
 Vere's horse was stabled, and then made my way back to 
 Ilminster. I remained one more night with my aunt, saw 
 that my lord had all he needed for comfort, and was well 
 pleased with his surroundings ; and then taking Blackbird
 
 JUST IN TIME. 429 
 
 on the following morning I rode him back to Taunton, 
 leaving the other horses with the farmer till I could 
 reclaim them with safety. 
 
 I got back to Taunton to give the other twenty guineas 
 to the kindly jailer, and to be in time for the terrible 
 pageant which was to take place now within its environs.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE TERRIBLE JUDGE. 
 
 " "f~\ICON, my father says he has heard that that 
 ■*-^ terrible man will have up Miss Blake and the 
 Taunton maids who made and presented the colours. 
 Heaven alone knows what fearful thing will happen to 
 them then ! Dicon, let me have speech with Mary ! She 
 must be got away ; she must be hidden till the storm be 
 overpast ! I have an hour to spare, whilst my father has 
 business with Sir William. Dicon, dost thou know that 
 Lord Jeffreys abides with him in his house here in the town ? 
 But he has sent all his women folk to Orchard Portman. 
 He will not let them meet yon wicked and terrible man. 
 Methinks a King who can use such instruments is little fit 
 for his place I Dicon," lowering her voice to a whisper, 
 her eyes flashing with a noble indignation as she spoke, 
 " dost thou know what is said ? — that if only this monster 
 in human shape slays enough men here in the West to 
 satisfy that bloody tyrant his master, he is to be rewarded 
 with the great seal of the Chancellor ! Truly the people 
 had right on their side when they rebelled against such 
 a tyrant ; only they needed one to lead them whose title
 
 THE TERRIBLE JUDGE. 431 
 
 was above reproach, and who came not under false pretences. 
 Surely the day will come when such a champion will arise, 
 and England will free herself from the hateful yoke of an 
 unjust, an illegal, and a cruel tyranny." 
 
 The speaker was Mistress Mary Bridges, and since her 
 lieroic act, of which I have already spoken, she had become 
 an idol of the people of Taunton and a companion to her 
 father such as she had never been before. She had ridden 
 in with him that day, and now was all eagerness to see 
 Mistress Mary Mead ; but when she returned to the inn- 
 yard after her visit was paid, it was with a grave face and 
 anxious mien. 
 
 " Dicon, I have argued and entreated in vain. She will 
 not fly ! She will not leave Miss Blake to meet the storm 
 alone. Her pupils are nearly all of them fled. Some few 
 remain in Taunton, but many are conveyed away I know 
 not whither. Mary says that she had as much to do Avith 
 those banners as Miss Blake, and she will not flee and 
 leave her. She says were all to be done again she would 
 do as she has done. She has no fear. She is not afraid 
 even of the wicked Jeffreys. She will stay and confront 
 him, and will not let herself be hidden. But, O Dicon, 
 though I love her the more for her courage, I fear that ill 
 will come of it ! " 
 
 " What can they do to her ? " I asked with a shudder. 
 " They will not kill her ? " 
 
 " Oh no, no ! " answered Mary. " I asked my father just 
 now, and he said that the penalty for such an offence was 
 not like to be more than a heavy fine. Even that monster
 
 432 THE TERRIBLE JUDGE. 
 
 would not dare to condemn a maid to worse than that. 
 But it is the being brought before him, being subjected to 
 his brutal words and looks, his hideous jibes and his 
 inhuman threats. O Dicon, the stories of yon man in 
 other places make my blood run cold ! To think of Mary 
 exposed to his baleful glance. But she knows no fear; 
 she will not let Miss Blake bear it alone." 
 
 " It is like her ! " I answered, with warm admiration. 
 " And, Mistress Mary, I will watch over her all I can ; and 
 if there be need later, will take her to the cottage in the 
 marsh, where she will be safe." 
 
 " Ay, she will be safe there ; and truly after these rains 
 it is few who could find the way thither. Dicon, let not 
 Lord Lonsdale take her to his house. They say he will 
 not return till after the trials. He is in a great fear for 
 his son, but has been told that the Viscount is not num- 
 bered amongst the prisoners. There has been some error 
 or mistake. He was taken, as many aver ; but he has 
 either died of his wounds or else has escaped in the con- 
 fusion — no man clearly knows which. Lord Lonsdale 
 went to Court to seek to win his pardon from the King 
 should he be brought up for trial and condemned ; and he 
 remains there till the Judge has gone, having a special 
 messenger here to bring him instant word if his son should 
 be arraigned. But he himself stays where he is till all 
 peril is past. Then he will come back, and if I mistake 
 me not, his first act will be to wed Mistress Mary Mead to 
 some man of known loyalty, both as a protection to herself 
 and as a means of keeping her away from his son, should
 
 THE TERRIBLE JUDGE. 433 
 
 the Viscount ever return. Dicon, guard her from that an 
 thou canst. I trow that my lord will return one day to 
 claim her, and she must be free to wed him." 
 
 I promised young Mistress Mary to use all heed and 
 diligence ; and then I watched her ride away with her 
 father, who came to find her, and thought that two such 
 noble Marys did not live in all the world as the two who 
 honoured me with their confidence. 
 
 But all Taunton was in a tremble, and within the town 
 there was that state of things best described by the words 
 of the prophet — " lamentation, and mourning, and woe." 
 
 The great Assize Hall in the Castle was being prepared 
 for the coming tribunal, and I must needs go to see. It is 
 a very fine hall, as all men of Taunton know, a hundred 
 and twenty feet long and thirty wide ; and when Taunton 
 was under the Bishop of Winchester's ecclesiastical jurisdic- 
 tion, his court used also to be held here. So that still over 
 the porch were the two keys and the sword, the arms of 
 the Bishop of Winchester, together with the three bugle 
 liorns which Avere the private coat of Bishop Horn, who no 
 doubt was a great personage when the place was built or 
 repaired. Four cherubs occupy the corners, and within 
 the surrounding garter are the two mottoes, " Honi soit qui 
 mal y pense," and " Crux et Vanitas." 
 
 Over the two strong arches of the inner gateway stood 
 the grand-jury room, soon to be occupied by the trembling 
 jury, who, badgered by the wicked Judge, feared to return 
 any verdict save that of Guilty, however insufficient the 
 evidence against the unhappy prisoner. We had heard 
 (511) 28
 
 434 THE TERRIBLE JUDGE. 
 
 already how the monster had raved and foamed with fury 
 at any other verdict, and had driven the nnhappy men 
 away again and again, until he had terrified them into 
 submission. To begin with, the juries were selected by the 
 Sheriffs ; and since the Sheriffs were all loyal King's men, 
 they had chosen men all in favour of the King's policy. 
 But even so, they could not altogether throw to the winds 
 all sense of justice and right; and yet if they dared to 
 give any verdict save that which the merciless Judge 
 indicated, they went almost in terror of their own lives. 
 To such a j)ass had things come under this Special Com- 
 mission, instituted by James the Second and conducted 
 according to his own heart by his chosen tools ! 
 
 The great Assize Hall was being liung with crimson 
 cloth in honour of the important occasion. Methought the 
 colour something ominous of what was coming ; but it was 
 said that Lord Jeffreys always looked to be received with 
 due honour. I had a great and lively curiosity to see 
 this wicked man, and as I was known to one or more of 
 the custodians of the place, I was promised entrance that 
 afternoon, when his charge to the jury was to be given ; 
 though after that, when the trials themselves came on, I 
 must take my chance with the rest of the people. The 
 place would be thronged to suffocation, and if I wished for 
 entrance I must seek it at the doors with the others. 
 
 I did very much wish to be present, but knew not 
 whether I should achieve my desire. But at least I was 
 there in a fairly good place that afternoon, when I knew 
 that the great and wicked Judge had arrived, and that he
 
 THE TERRIBLE JUDGE. 435 
 
 was to address the jury at once, so tliat the business of the 
 day could commence upon the morrow. 
 
 How my heart beat when at hist he came, with his 
 brothers of the bench in attendance, who seemed of no 
 account beside that great bui-ly figure with those extra- 
 ordinary eyes, and that bloated face seamed and lined by 
 passion and drink till it was more like the face of a devil 
 than of a man. Although I had heard much of Judge 
 Jeffreys, never had I jDictured such a monster in human 
 shape as I beheld that day, as the western light, level and 
 clear, illumined the great hall and made plain all the 
 persons assembled there. It was as if the devil himself 
 looked out from those eyes ; and in the loud rasping tones 
 of the voice, full of fierce invective coupled with brutal 
 taunts and threats, it was impossible to conceive that there 
 spoke the voice of a monarch's sex'vant. Oaths of the 
 most blasphemous description fell from his lips, mingled 
 with such ribald jests as made one's blood run cold. What 
 was the nature of the charge I cannot tell, for I seemed to 
 hear nothing but taunts and threats and profane jests all 
 jumbled together in one hideous medley. No wonder tlie 
 jurymen stood huddled together, as if only longing to be 
 out of reach of those basilisk eyes. No wonder that amongst 
 the crowd assembled to hear those who had relations or 
 friends amongst the prisoners felt their hearts sink within 
 them. That all the men declared tlie Judge to be drunk 
 seemed small consolation. We had heard before this that 
 it was his habit to be more or less drunk whilst performing 
 his duties. Possibly in the morning he might be something
 
 436 THE TERRIBLE JUDGE. 
 
 more sober ; but there were those who averred that he was 
 even more to be dreaded sober than drunk. In either case 
 he was a devil incarnate. About that there were no two 
 opinions. And it was passed quickly through the town 
 that the only chance a prisoner had was to plead guilty, 
 and so save the court the trouble of trying him. Those 
 who did this were condemned to death in a mass ; but 
 many were respited. It was said that the Judge had 
 openly declared he would hang every man who dared to 
 plead " not guilty," and that these would be at once hung 
 up, whilst those who pleaded " guilty " would be respited 
 for a time, and possibly escape the final penalty of the 
 law. This was the Judge's artifice for shortening his 
 bloody work, and it invariably put him in a tempest of 
 passion when prisoners dared to plead " not guilty." 
 
 Do as I would, I could not get into court uj)on the first 
 day of the trials ; and I ran down to Master Simpson's 
 house to see how things were going there, and if aught had 
 been heard of Master Simpson himself. Here I found Miss 
 Hannah Hewling mingling her tears with those of Lizzie 
 and her aunt ; for her brother Benjamin was awaiting his 
 trial now at Taunton, and the gentle William, only nineteen 
 years old and so full of sweetness and piety, had already 
 been done to death at Lyme, in spite of all the favour 
 brought to bear on his behalf. 
 
 Amid her tears Miss Hannah read to us a letter he had 
 penned to her just before he suffered. " I am going to 
 launch into eternity," he wrote, " and, I hope and trust, into 
 the arms of my blessed Redeemer, to whom I commit you
 
 THE TERRIPyLE JUDGE. 437 
 
 and all my dear relations." And as he was going to the 
 place of execution, he repeated to one of his comrades some 
 of the beautiful words contained in the fourteenth chapter 
 of St. John's Gospel ; and then he added, " Here is a sweet 
 promise for us, ' I will not leave you comfortless : I will 
 come to you.' Christ will be with us to the last." And 
 to another who bid him farewell he said, " Farewell till we 
 meet in heaven. Presently I shall be with Christ. Oh, 
 I would not change conditions with any in this woi'Id ! 
 I would not stay behind for ten thousand worlds." And to 
 a friend who came to comfort him at the end — not one of 
 the condemned — the friend who had given all these particu- 
 lars to Miss Hannah, he said, " Pray remember my dear 
 love to my brother and sister, and tell them I desire they 
 would comfort themselves that I am gone to Christ ; and 
 we shall quickly meet in the glorious Mount Zion above." 
 
 And so greatly were the officers who carried out the 
 mandate of the Court touched by his piety and sweetness 
 and gentleness that some wept, and others declared that 
 had the Chief -Justice himself been there he could not have 
 let him die. So though no mandate had been given to 
 that effect, yet the body of the pious youth was given to 
 the people of Lyme for Christian burial, and was laid in 
 the grave by a number of young maidens of that place, 
 who had heard the story of his faith and resignation, and 
 took this Christian office upon themselves. 
 
 It could not but comfort the sister's heart to hear all 
 this, though her tears fell fast as she told tlie talc. Her 
 heart was sore troubled too for the brother yet living ; but
 
 438 THE TERRIBLE JUDGE. 
 
 her parents in London had sent her large sums of money, 
 and it was hoped that the Judge might be bribed into 
 showing mercy, even though he had condemned the 
 prisoner in court. 
 
 Upon the day when Master Benjamin Hewling was to 
 be tried, I was resolved that I would be there, and would 
 find room too for Miss Hannah and for Lizzie as well. 
 Money would always do much, and of this there was no 
 lack ; and I went beforehand to the keepers of the doors, 
 and got a promise that if I would come very early, and 
 keep very quiet when admitted, they would see that we 
 got smuggled in before the crowd came thronging and 
 surging in. And this in fact was done ; and though after- 
 wards we were well-nigh suffocated by the press, still we 
 were placed where we could see and hear. I was the more 
 glad of this because I heard a whisper that this would be 
 the last day, and that the case of the Maids of Taunton 
 would come before the Judge at the close of the more 
 bloody proceedings, and also that of Will Wiseman, the 
 accusation against whom was only the reading of the De- 
 clarations of the Duke to the populace ; his other daring 
 acts seeming not to have become known to Mr. Blewer, 
 who, we felt certain, was his accuser. 
 
 How my heart quaked when I saw the Judge's terrible 
 countenance beneath its wig of office ! The red robes 
 Avere scarcely more red than the inflamed visage, and the 
 eyes rolled from side to side with a sullen fury that was 
 almost more terrible than the ferocity of their gleam when 
 first I had seen them.
 
 THE TERRIBLE JUDGE. 439 
 
 The scenes I saw that day will never be effaced from 
 my memory. I would that I had the skill to tell the tale 
 as it should be told, but I can but state a few bald facts. 
 Let the reader fill up the outline as he will. 
 
 Let me speak of the trial of Mr. Simon Hamling — or 
 Hamlyn, as men indifferently call him. He was a worthy 
 citizen of Taunton, who had borne a good repute there for 
 long ; but had for the last three years of his life lived 
 some three miles out of the town, and come to and fro on 
 business. When he heard that the Duke had come, he 
 went to the town to speak to his son, to advise him to 
 have nothing to do with this matter of the rising ; as he 
 expressed it in his defence, " That as he expected his bless- 
 ing and countenance, he should not at all concern himself 
 in the matter, but submit himself to the will of God in all 
 things ; " and having so delivered himself he went home, 
 and was never in the town again whilst the Duke was 
 there, save that he came to buy some provision for his 
 house, as was his custom, on the Saturday. But he was 
 a dissenter, and the Mayor owed him a grudge. When 
 nothing could be proved against him as having been con- 
 cerned in the rebellion, the Judge fell into such a rage as 
 I have never seen in my life before, so that all the court 
 quaked and trembled, and he bawled out, " The rascal is 
 a dissenter ! I can smell 'em forty miles ! " and forthwith 
 foaming at the mouth he bid the jury find him guilty, 
 which to their shame they did ; and sentence of death 
 was accordingly passed upon him. Hearing which the 
 Mayor, being smitten with shame and .remorse, strove to
 
 440 THE TERRIBLE JUDGE. 
 
 get the sentence reversed ; but the Lord Jeffreys turned 
 upon him with one of his awful oaths, and cried, " You 
 have brought him on ; if he be innocent, his blood be upon 
 you ! " and immediately called for the next prisoner, which 
 was Mr. Benjamin Hewling. 
 
 In such a mood as the Judge was now in all saw that 
 the poor young gentleman had no chance. Many stood 
 forward to try to bear witness to his blameless charac- 
 ter, but were yelled down by the Judge, who would hear 
 nothing. The prisoner had been in arms in the rebellion, 
 and should die the traitor's death. Then enraged by the 
 dauntless and dignified bearing of the young man, his 
 judge stormed and cursed and raged at him, and made 
 the horrid words of the sentence tenfold more horrid by 
 the way he flung it at him, till half the women in the 
 place fell weeping, and Miss Hannah drooped her head and 
 for a minute quite swooned away. 
 
 But the spirit of her brothers possessed her too, and she 
 recovered herself, and was able to make her way out of the 
 court holding Lizzie's hand. I must needs stay to see how 
 Will Wiseman fared, and to hear what befell with regard 
 to the Maids of Taunton, as they were beginning to be 
 called by the world. Several cases came between, all of 
 which were treated in the same brutal fashion by the Lord 
 Jeffreys ; and when one thought of the pious and blameless 
 lives many of these men had lived, their godliness and 
 honesty of purpose, and their piety and sweetness of dis- 
 position, it seemed a strange thing to see them arraigned 
 before this drunken and blasphemous judge, and feel that
 
 THE TERRIBLE JUDGE. 441 
 
 he had the power, in despite of the clearest evidence, to 
 doom them to a frightful and hideous death. 
 
 But my heart beat with a more personal interest when 
 I saw the familiar face of Will Wiseman in the prisoner's 
 place. He had grown thin and white during his captivity ; 
 for the prisons were crowded and unwholesome, and the 
 prisoners were but poorly fed. I had done what I could 
 for him ; but I had not succeeded in seeing him, nor could 
 I be sure that the things I took him from the Simpsons' 
 house ever reached him aright. 
 
 Jeffreys glared at poor Will as though he would have 
 done him to death on the very spot ; but Will looked at 
 him back without any sign of fear — though, unless he were 
 double and treble as brave as I, he must surely have been 
 in a sad affright. And then the witnesses suborned by 
 wicked Mr. Blewer, who had by this time edged himself 
 very near to the judges, and was looking on with cruel 
 malice in his eyes, came forward and bore testimony to the 
 fact that Will had read the different Declarations of the 
 Duke to the people who wished to hear them ; and thank- 
 ful indeed was I that none came to tell how he had led 
 the assault upon the arms in the church tower, for I was 
 not sure that that would not have been a hanging matter. 
 I thought they could not do much to poor Will for such a 
 small thing as this ; but Jeffreys was licking his cruel lips, 
 and his face had that smile upon it which was almost 
 worse than his scowl, and he cried out in his husky, rasp- 
 ing tones, — 
 
 " A young rogue, but a veritable villain ! He must be
 
 442 THE TERRIBLE JUDGE. 
 
 taught to curb that mischievous tongue of his ! Pity the 
 good old plan of boring it through with a hot iron is out 
 of fashion now ! Never mind ; we will find a cure never- 
 theless. What does the wise man say ? ' Spare the rod 
 and spoil the child.' Well, we will not do that. The rod 
 shall not be spared. I give sentence that the prisoner, 
 William Wiseman, be whipped through every market town 
 in Somerset. — Executioner, warm him well. The weather 
 is growing sharp. See that he take not cold in the open 
 air. He will needs be shorn of his clothing. Warm his 
 back for him ! warm it well ! " And doubling himself up 
 in brutal laughter at his jest, the Judge signed for the 
 prisoner to be removed. 
 
 My heart went out in pity and rage ; but to myself I 
 kept repeating, " My hoard of guineas — my golden hoard is 
 still almost untouched. Sure it can win for poor Will an 
 abatement of his punishment. The executioner at least 
 will not be as brutal as the Judge." 
 
 When I came to myself, after having been wrapped in 
 thought for I know not how long, I felt a curious thrill 
 going through the court ; and there I saw Miss Blake and 
 Mary Mead standing side by side before the wicked Judge, 
 who was regarding them with a face of curiosity and ma- 
 levolent interest. 
 
 " And where be the other fair maidens ? " he asked, look- 
 ing at a paper before him. 
 
 The usher of the court replied that only Miss Blake had 
 been summoned ; that the pupils could be found when 
 necessary, but that they were taken by their parents, and
 
 THE TERRIBLE JUDGE. 443 
 
 were scattered here and there, save Mistress Mary Mead, 
 who liad claimed to accompany Miss Bhike. 
 
 The names of twenty or more maids were read out as 
 having been concerned in the making and the presenting 
 of the colours ; and much ribald jesting was indulged in 
 on the part of the Judge, who, however, seemed in not so 
 evil a humour as heretofore. Whilst the proceedings were 
 going on, I observed with uneasiness that Mr. Blewer edged 
 himself up to Lord Jeffreys ; and my uneasiness did not de- 
 crease when I saw them laughing together as if on very 
 friendly terms, and keep throwing glances in the direction 
 of Mistress Mary, who stood white and calm and collected 
 beside her more agitated mistress. I think perhaps she 
 had never looked so beautiful as she did then in her de- 
 votion and courage ; and I hated to see the eyes of those 
 two bad men scanning her at their evil pleasure. 
 
 After a while the Judge took up the word again, and 
 said that for the high misdemeanour of Miss Blake and all 
 the persons named upon the list which had been read, a 
 fine would be laid upon them by the court ; but that this 
 'fine should be the Christmas Box of the Maids of Honour 
 of her Majesty the Queen, and that they should levy it 
 upon the Taunton Maids at their will and pleasure. How 
 the sentence was worded I cannot remember, but that was 
 the substance of it. The Taunton Maids were to remain 
 at large, but to be given (as it were) to the Maids of 
 Honour for a Christmas Box ; and they were to have 
 liberty to exact as much money as could be wrung from 
 the parents and guardians of the maids. But after having
 
 444 THE TERRIBLE JUDGE. 
 
 so disposed of the irresponsible culprits, the Judge turned 
 with a heavy frown upon Miss Blake, and thundered out 
 that as she had been the planner and contriver of all this, 
 and knew what she was doing, which the young maids did 
 not, she was condemned to be imprisoned in Dorchester 
 jail at the King's pleasure, where doubtless she would 
 come to repent her of her evil ways. 
 
 Then whilst poor Miss Blake turned pale and seemed 
 about to swoon, and the women in the court who had 
 known her for long fell a-weeping, the Judge turned his 
 evil eyes upon Mistress Mary and said, — 
 
 " As for you, young Mistress, who are old enough to 
 know better, yet have been led into evil practices by those 
 about you, I will pass over your misdemeanour in this 
 matter but lightly. You shall pay your share of the fine 
 imposed ; but for the rest, your imprisonment shall not be 
 in any jail — that were something too hard for youth and 
 beauty. Yet inasmuch as you have proved stubborn and 
 rebellious, and are not fit to be custodian of your own 
 fortune nor of your own person, we give you here in troth- 
 plight to good Mr. Nicholas Blewer, a godly and a loyal 
 subject ; and he will guide and teach and admonish you, 
 and train you to be a submissive wife and a good subject. 
 To-morrow we will see you wed ere we leave the town, — 
 And so, ladies, farewell ! " 
 
 I listened aghast. My eyes turned helplessly from the 
 evil face of the Judge to the triumj^hant one of Master 
 Blewer, wreathed in .smiles that turned me sick ; and tlicn 
 to the cold, calm visage of Mistress Mary, who seemed
 
 THE TERRIBLE JUDGE. 445 
 
 scarce to take in the meaning of these terrible words. 
 After standing- for a minute, gazing as if horror-struck at 
 the Judge, she suddenly pulled her hood over her face, and 
 went out walking unsteadily, so that many thought her 
 weeping. 
 
 But I knew better : Mistress Mary's spirit was one that 
 rose under stress of peril when that of another would have 
 sunk. I was near to a door, and I pushed my way out 
 and fought my way through all sorts of places where I had 
 no business, till I found myself at her side. Her face was 
 as white as death ; but she grasped me by the hand when 
 she saw me, and said, in a low, strained voice, — 
 
 " Take me somewhere, Dicon, before lie can get out ! " 
 
 " Come with me ! " I said, rapidly reviewing the situa- 
 tion, and striving to know what to do ; and as we passed 
 out together, I heard people saying one to another, " She is 
 ill ! she is stricken to death ! " " The evil visage of that 
 man has killed her ! " 
 
 " Yes," I cried, seizing my opportunity, " she is ill — she 
 is very ill. She is stricken with a fever. I must take her 
 to those who can tend her. — Lean on me. Mistress Mary ; 
 I will take care of you." 
 
 She obeyed me mechanically. I do not think she either 
 heard or saw. There was a stunned look upon her face, as 
 though somehow the soul had gone out of it. I knew that 
 her mind was working inwardly all the more keenly and 
 intensely ; but to others it looked indeed as though she had 
 been stricken for death, so ashen grey was her face, so 
 fixed and irresponsive her eyes.
 
 446 THE TERRIBLE JUDGE. 
 
 She put her hand upon my arm, and by many by-ways 
 and alleys I led her away, none following, as all interest 
 was still centred in the doings of the court. Still I was 
 resolved to baffle all pursuit ; and since poor Miss Blake 
 was committed to prison, there was no safety for Mistress 
 Mary beneath the accustomed roof. 
 
 So I took her straight to the Simpsons' house, where 
 Lizzie welcomed her with open arms ; and after I had 
 whispered long in her ear, a look of keen intelligence 
 beamed over her face, and she whispered back in eager 
 accents, — 
 
 " Trust us, good Dicon. We would do more than that 
 for sweet Mistress Mary to save her from such a fate ! " 
 
 r
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE JUDGE'S SENTENCES. 
 
 AND what then was our plan ? If, reader, you will 
 trouble yourself so far as to read the annals of 
 Taunton for this time, and especially the part of it which 
 refers to the Taunton Maids, you will find it set down that 
 there was one maid who appeared in court besides Miss 
 Blake ; and that the terrible looks of the bloody Judge 
 struck such terror into her heart, that she pulled her hood 
 over her face and fell a-weeping, and so left the court ; and 
 that so great was her fright that she went home and sank 
 down in a swoon, and was dead of sheer terror before the 
 sun had set. And if you will seek amongst the graves in 
 the churchyard here, you will find one that bears the name 
 of Mary Mead • and you will be told by the sexton tliat it 
 is the grave of the fairest of the Taunton Maids, who 
 worked the most beautiful of all the banners tliat were 
 given to the Duke of Monmouth by Taunton Town, and 
 who fell sick upon the very day on which she liad borne 
 herself so bravely in court before the wicked Judge Jeffreys, 
 and died and was buried, though she was to have been 
 wed on the very daj^ of her funeral.
 
 448 THE JUDGE'S SENTENCES. 
 
 The story says that it was to a handsome young Vis- 
 count that she was to have given her hand, and claims 
 sympathy for the maid on that account ; but those who 
 remember the real scene know better than that, although 
 there are but few who know that Mary Mead does not lie 
 in that grave, but that therein lies only a coffin filled 
 with books and stones ; whilst she — but I must not get 
 on too fast with my story. 
 
 In the confusion and excitement of the town at this 
 time, and the universal fear and indignation inspired by 
 these trials, it was so easy to arrange the thing. A coffin 
 was brought to the Simpsons' house that very night, for a 
 maid stricken with a fever ; and after it was filled with 
 heavy substances, the lid was screwed down, and an order 
 for burial was easy to obtain. For all had heard the 
 story of Mary Mead in court, and how she had been 
 stricken as it were for death upon receiving her sentence 
 from the Judge, so that none were surprised to hear 
 how sudden the end had been ; and since Mr. Blewer 
 had drunk himself drunk with Lord Jeffi-eys that night, 
 as a fitting preparation for his nuptials with a pure and 
 virtuous maiden on the morrow, even he did not trouble 
 us with any inquiry. Then as all men had a wholesome 
 horror of fever, the coffin was promptly screwed down, 
 and all made ready for the burying before the dawn of 
 the day. 
 
 God forgive us if we did amiss ; but those were hard 
 and cruel days, and poor persecuted folks were driven 
 sometimes to sore straits if they were to escape worse than
 
 THE JUDGE'S SENTENCES. 449 
 
 death. I, at least, felt no qualm at that time, whatever 
 falsehood I told to stand betwixt Mistress Mary and the 
 peril of being wedded to that wicked man, who would 
 make of her fair young life a veritable hell upon earth. 
 For her sweet sake, let alone for my lord's, I would have 
 done more than I did. As I say again, God forgive us 
 our sin ; for sin we did, albeit I scarce know now how 
 I should act were such a thing to come into my life once 
 more. 
 
 So whilst all Taunton slept after the excitement of 
 that day, and in prospect of the near excitements of the 
 coming executions. Mistress Mary and I slij^ped from the 
 town on foot, and by unfrequented routes ; and before the 
 first streak of coming day appeared in the east, I had 
 piloted her through the marshy tract of ground nigh to 
 Bishop's Hull, and had left her, exhausted but in peace, 
 with the kindly cottage folks, who had had their instruc- 
 tions from their well-loved foster-child, and who received 
 this other Mistress Mary with open arms. 
 
 Indeed the story of the scene in the Assize Hall roused 
 within them feelings of the keenest indigTiation. They 
 would have done much more than was asked of them to 
 save a victim of wicked Judge Jeffreys from the fate he 
 had assigned her. They lived near enough to Taunton to 
 know somewhat of Mr. Blewer and his evil report ; and 
 when I sallied forth again at break of day, it was to feel 
 that no surer place of refuge could have been found for 
 Mistress Mary, and no more loving guardians. 
 
 But there was plenty of work awaiting me still. I 
 (sn) 29
 
 450 THE JUDGE'S SENTENCES. 
 
 knew not the day nor the hour when Will's punishment 
 would commence ; and it was needful that I should see 
 and bribe the hangman, that he laid the stripes but lightly- 
 on my poor comrade's back, despite the charge of the 
 Judge. The execution of the prisoners condemned to 
 death was fixed for the thirtieth of the month — only a 
 few days distant ; but Will might be whipped at any 
 time, and if I knew Mr. Blewer aright, he would seek the 
 pleasure of seeing it done right speedily. Well did I 
 know that it was his spite alone which had caused Will 
 to be arrested. And the only marvel was that I had 
 escaped his rancour, the more so that I had deceived him 
 about Mistress Mary and Lord Lonsdale's speedy coming. 
 But perhaps he had thought that I spoke in good faith, 
 and was myself deceived. At least he doubtless saw his 
 way to a more speedy and triumphant accomplishment of 
 his wishes by gaining the ear of the wicked Judge, and 
 therefore laid his plans accordingly, caring nothing for 
 the guardian's consent, now that he had the mandate of 
 the Chief -Justice. 
 
 I reached the town again before daylight, and found 
 Master Simpson's house straitly shut up. For already it 
 had been whispered abroad that Mistress Mary had died 
 of the plague — the report having been set afoot by the 
 gossip of the excited maid-servant, who had seen the gTey 
 and rigid face of the maiden as she was brought in, and 
 hearing almost at once that she had died, ran forth in 
 a great fright to her own relations, and declared that 
 she had seen a dark spot on the brow of the lady ; and in
 
 THE JUDGE'S SENTENCES. 451 
 
 a short while it was being whispered about that the plague 
 had suddenly stricken her and carried her off — which was 
 thought only too possible in those days. 
 
 Nothing could have turned out better for our purpose, 
 albeit we had not ourselves set the rumour afloat, nor did 
 we hear anything of it till that morning, when a mandate 
 reached the household from the Mayor, ordering instant 
 burial for the body, and that none should come forth from 
 that house till leave was given from him. 
 
 Luckily for me I was away when that mandate came, 
 so I escaped the imprisonment which Lizzie and her aunt 
 suffered for fourteen days, very willingly. And this saved 
 them from any questioning or trouble from Mr. Blewer, 
 who did not dare to came anigh the house ; and though 
 they say he raved and raged horribly at the ill turn fate 
 had done him, he did not suspect for a moment that any 
 trick had been played upon him. He, like all Taunton, 
 believed in the death of the maid ; and only when no 
 more signs of the plague appeared in the house or the 
 place did men say it was most like to have been a virulent 
 fever, caught perhaps in court from some prisoner from 
 the fetid jail, or engendered by the fright of being brought 
 face to face with the Judge. 
 
 As for me, being unable to obtain entrance to the 
 Simpsons' house, I went straight home and took from my 
 store several golden guineas ; and then I made my way 
 to the Bridewell, to seek speech with the hangman, and 
 see if I could bribe him to treat Will but lightly and 
 mercifully.
 
 452 THE JUDGE'S SENTENCES. 
 
 Whilst I was passing through the streets I saw a great 
 crowd gathered. Coming hastily to the edge of it, I asked 
 what was going on, and was told that Mistress Hannah 
 Hewling had been waiting outside a certain house where 
 Lord Jeffreys was known to be, to petition him on coming 
 out for a respite of her brother's sentence ; for she verily 
 believed that such interest would be made by their parents 
 and friends in London town, that if he could but be respited 
 a few days his pardon would be assured. 
 
 I heard a woman's voice in the midst of the crowd 
 raised in imploring tones, and I heard the brutal laugh 
 of the wicked Judge — that malicious laugh I had heard so 
 often of late, and which seemed the most evil thing about 
 that most evil man. Then suddenly the crowd parted 
 with cries of, " Have a care ! have a care ! " and I saw 
 that the Judge had stepped into his coach, and that the 
 prancing horses were just starting. 
 
 But even then Mistress Hannah would not cease her 
 pleading. She hung upon the coach, still rending the air 
 with her cries, and offering — I think it was a thousand 
 pounds for just two days' respite. But Jeffreys looked 
 forth from the window, his eyes scintillating with passion, 
 and he cried out to his coachman, — 
 
 " Whip her off ! whip her off ! Cut her hands to pieces ! 
 I will not be badgered thus ! " 
 
 And the man, wlio seemed to be a worthy fellow of 
 such a master, took his heavy whip and lashed at the poor 
 lady's white hands as they still clung to the coach ; and 
 the people started forward and caught her as she fell
 
 THE JUDGE'S SENTENCES. 453 
 
 away, half fainting with pain and anguish. And methinks 
 if the Judge could but have heard the curses with which 
 he was followed as he drove away, he would scarce have 
 felt comfortable for the rest of the day. 
 
 Now it so chanced that Mother Whale was in Taunton 
 that day, and she was standing in the crowd when this 
 thing happened ; and suddenly tossing her withered arms 
 into the air, she burst into a torrent of execration that 
 sounded almost like words of prophecy. The people stood 
 agape with a stern joy as she hurled her maledictions upon 
 him, and screamed after him that his turn would one day 
 come — that he should himself be a fugitive from mankind, 
 and should sue for the mercy which should be refused him, 
 and should perish miserably at last like the wretched brute 
 beast that he was ! 
 
 Then all the people cried, " Amen ! Amen ! " and Mother 
 Whale was taken into many houses that day and treated 
 sumptuously ; but she would add nothing to the words she 
 had spoken, nor say how and when they would be fulfilled. 
 All Taunton, however, was whispering that a frightful fate 
 would follow this monster, and a stern satisfaction was 
 upon the faces of those who heard and those who told the 
 news. 
 
 So many interruptions on the way hindered my errand, 
 and I was but just in time. Poor Will was to be whipped 
 through the streets of the town this very day ; but the 
 fellow who had charge of the whipping was known to me, 
 and had small relish for the office, seeing that Will was a 
 favourite with all who knew him, and had won golden
 
 454 THE JUDGE'S SENTENCES. 
 
 opinions in the prison by his wit and cheerfulness, and the 
 way he had served and entertained his fellow-prisoners, 
 keeping up their courage and making light of hardships. 
 
 It needed little of my gold to win the promised leniency. 
 
 " I would not lay a finger on the lad if I could help it ! " 
 said the man ; " but were I to put the office on another, 
 the poor fellow might fare worse. He is a right brave and 
 good lad. I would it were yon black-coated knave of a 
 parson that I had under my lash ! I would not spare him. 
 I would warm his shoulders well, and give them a red 
 jacket to boot that he should carry for long enough ! " 
 
 Mr. Blewer was not beloved in Taunton, and his spite 
 towards Will had long been known. 
 
 Will came out looking pale, as he had done in court 
 yesterday, but resolute and fearless for all that. His eyes 
 lighted at sight of me, and he gave the hand I held out to 
 him a hearty squeeze. 
 
 " It's all for the good cause, Dicon," he said. " Art not 
 thou ashamed to speak with one who is to be tied to the 
 cart's tail yonder ? " 
 
 " Ashamed of thee. Will ? I would I were half the man 
 that thou art ! " And then coming a little nearer, I whis- 
 pered in his ear, — 
 
 " He will make thy punishment as light as he can, Will ; 
 and after the Judge be safely gone back out of the West, 
 men say that prisoners will have little to fear. The 
 Mayors and people of the towns will have none of his 
 brutal sentences carried out. Thou wilt not be sent from 
 town to town as he said."
 
 THE JUDGE'S SENTENCES. 455 
 
 Will gave a nod, but could say no more ; for the execu- 
 tioner had come to tie him to the cart, and Mr. Blewer 
 came hurrying up that he might witness the pain and 
 shame of the boy he hated. But this was too much for 
 the crowd. Whether or not this man was a friend of the 
 dreaded Judge who had not yet left the town, the crowd 
 was not to be quelled. A storm of groans and hisses arose 
 at sight of him ; women shook their fists in his face, and 
 children took up stones, and would have cast them at him 
 but for the restraining hands of their mothers. One great 
 brawny blacksmith came forward with his hammer in his 
 hand and stood right in front of the white-faced pol- 
 troon, who was looking this way and that, as though he 
 knew not whether to fly or to hurl threats and defiance 
 at the mob. 
 
 " Look you here, sir," said the man, speaking loud 
 enough for everybody to hear. " You'd better watch this 
 thing from somewhere else than the public streets, if you 
 don't want the coat, which you're a disgrace to, to be torn 
 off your back ! I tell you, sir, that it would not take 
 more than a few words from some amongst us to get you 
 stripped and set where that poor lad is now ; and there's 
 not a man amongst us but would be glad to lay lashes on 
 your back — ay, and we would too, if once our blood was up. 
 So if you value a sound skin, go while there is yet time ! 
 Taunton Town is not trodden so much in the dust yet 
 that she cannot rise in revolt against a monster like you ! 
 
 Yells, hisses, and groans filled the air, and Mr. Blewer s 
 face turned from white to purple, and again faded to an
 
 4S6 THE JUDGE'S SENTENCES. 
 
 ashen grey. If ever man looked cowed and beaten, he 
 did then. But he took the hint, and made off as fast as 
 his legs would carry him ; and I verily believe had it been 
 any other time — had the sense of fear inspired by recent 
 events not been still strong upon the people — that he would 
 have been pounced upon then and there, and whipped at 
 the cart's tail through the streets of Taunton by the in- 
 furiated populace. 
 
 As it was, it was poor Will who was whipped, though 
 the lashes were but lightly laid on ; and I think the 
 boy scarce felt the pain in the sense of triumph at the 
 discomfiture of his foe, and in the encouragement and 
 sympathy of his townsmen. I walked beside him all the 
 way, and he looked at me every now and then with a 
 smile. All sense of shame — which to some natures is the 
 bitterest part of such a punishment — was saved him ; for 
 he was regarded by the people as a sufferer in a noble 
 cause, and as a youthful martyr might have been in 
 days of old. Women wept and blessed him ; men called out 
 brave words of praise and encouragement. He held his 
 head up to the very last ; and though he sometimes 
 winced and shrank, he did not utter a cry the whole way 
 through the town and back. 
 
 But alas, alas ! we had only raised in the breast of his 
 implacable foe a spirit of hostility which would not be 
 satisfied without a speedy vengeance. As we entered the 
 yard of the prison again, there was Mr. Blewer waiting for 
 us ; and as he cast a scrutinizing glance upon poor Will's 
 back lined with blvie wales, he uttered a snort of contempt
 
 THE JUDGE S SENTENCES. 457 
 
 and anger, and turned upon the executioner with an air of 
 stern displeasure. 
 
 Will was led away by the jailer, who treated him kindly 
 enough ; but the hangman was detained by Mr. Blewer, 
 who said severely, — 
 
 " Why, fellow, what do you mean by carrying out my 
 lord's sentences in such a fashion ? He straitly charged 
 you not to spare the rod ; and you have not only spared 
 it, but have scarce let him feel it ! I tell you, fellow, the 
 Judge's mandates are not thus to be set aside. I will 
 report the matter to him, and see what he says ! " 
 
 And at that the fellow broke out in a great passion, as 
 well indeed he might. 
 
 " Sir," he cried, " men talk with horror of the cruelties 
 of the Popish Priests ; but commend me to a Church of 
 England Priest for downright cruelty ! You are like the 
 country Justices who will not believe that a man is burnt 
 in the hand unless they can see a hole through it ! Shame 
 upon you, sir. You would not dare to speak thus were 
 the citizens of Taunton here to listen ! " 
 
 Mr. Blewer's face expressed all sorts of evil emotions. 
 He raised the cane he held in his hand and slightly threat- 
 ened the man with it. 
 
 " Have a care, fellow ! have a care how you speak, or 
 you may chance to get a taste of your own rope's end 
 one of these days ! " 
 
 " I would I could give you a taste of it ! " muttered the 
 man as he walked off in a rage ; and as I followed him to 
 get speech if it were possible of Will, he broke out again
 
 458 THE JUDGE'S SENTENCES. 
 
 and cried, " I verily believe the whole place has gone mad. 
 Men seem to be drunk with blood. Surely this is like the 
 great whore of the Scriptures who is drunk with the blood, 
 of saints and martyrs ! The King and his ministers will 
 have a deal to answer for when the books come to be 
 opened at the Day of Judgment ! " 
 
 My heart swells even now with indignation when I think 
 of the rest of this story. What passed betwixt Mr. Blewer 
 and that wicked Judge I know not, nor can any man tell, 
 but (although I knew it not till after the evil deed had 
 been done — whereby I was saved some suffering) a mandate 
 was sent down that very day to the keeper of the prison, 
 saying that the boy Wiseman was to be whipped again 
 upon the morrow ; and that another man was to be chosen 
 for the office, that the sentence of the Judge might be 
 adequately carried out ! And this thing was done in the 
 prison-yard — for methinks the keeper of the prison was 
 afraid to do it in the open streets— and the poor lad was 
 so cruelly whipped that they say the bones of his back 
 were laid bare. And it was in almost a dying state that 
 he was carried back to the prison, where he fell into high 
 fever, and might well have died had not news come of it 
 to our ears, and had we not procured for him a separate 
 room, where he could have ease and quiet, and such good 
 nourishinent and tendance as his state demanded. 
 
 But when I saw him first he knew me not ; and though 
 I came day after day, he lay in a death-like stupor, mutter- 
 ing to himself, but speaking no word that any might 
 understand, and only moaning a little when his wounds
 
 THE JUDGE'S SENTENCES. 459 
 
 were dressed by the godly woman whose services we liad 
 bespoken for him. 
 
 " Never weep for him, Dicon," said the good woman to 
 me, as my tears fell fast at his sad state. " Methinks the 
 Lord will yet raise him up. And this fever is a merciful 
 thing for him, for it dulls his pains, and he knows naught 
 of his sufierings : it would be far worse were he himself. 
 We will get his wounds partly healed before he comes to 
 feel them. He takes his broth and milk, and he gets a 
 sort of rest by day, though he is wakeful and feverish at 
 night. Yet I can see that he makes progress day by day. 
 He is a bold lad and full of spirit. He will be a sound 
 and whole man yet, please God." 
 
 So I received comfort, though my heart was still full of 
 rage and grief ; and methinks Mr. Blewer would have been 
 well-nigh torn in pieces in Taunton streets had he dared to 
 show himself there, but he took himself off to Wells when 
 the Judge moved thither, and for a short time we saw him 
 no more. 
 
 There was one more terrible day for Taunton upon the 
 last of this month of September, when the bloody sentences 
 of death were executed upon the prisoners condemned to 
 die there — nineteen in number. 
 
 Great numbers of other prisoners, who were condemned 
 on pleading guilty in a body, did not suffer death, but were 
 sold by the Judge to various persons, who either extorted 
 from their friends a ransom for them, or in the case of 
 meaner persons, whose friends had no money, shipped them 
 off to the plantations to be sold there, where it was said
 
 46o THE JUDGE'S SENTENCES. 
 
 that they fetched about ten pounds a head. Great numbers 
 of these unfortunate men perished on the outward voyage ; 
 but some reached there alive, and of these some very few 
 returned in after years to their country and their friends. 
 I have myself spoken with more than one such, who has 
 told me moving stories of the sufferings they underwent 
 first in the vessels which conveyed them to these torrid 
 zones, and afterwards at the hands of cruel task-masters. 
 But of this I cannot more particularly speak now. It be- 
 longs not to my story, save to account for the fact that 
 whilst so many, many hundreds, and even thousands, were 
 condemned to death, the greater number of these were 
 not executed, but were treated in this manner. 
 
 I will not describe further the horrid side of the execution 
 of our friends and fellow-citizens of Taunton ; but I will 
 speak of their bravery, their resignation, and the words 
 and bearing of them, which made even their enemies say 
 afterwards, " If you want to learn how to die, go to the 
 young men of Taunton to learn." 
 
 No respite of his sentence had come for Mr. Benjamin 
 Hewling, and he was one of the most courageous and 
 steadfast of them all. Of those to die with him whom I 
 have named in these pages were Master (or Captain) John 
 Hucker and Mr. William Jenkyns. The only favour that 
 their friends could obtain for some amongst these was the 
 right to bury them in the churchyard after death. To save 
 his corpse from dismemberment. Miss Hannah Hewling had 
 to pay the thousand pounds she had offered for the life 
 of her brother ; and there were a few others who gained
 
 THE JUDGE'S SENTENCES. 461 
 
 this privilege also, though upon AA^hat terms I have never 
 heard. Surely this Western Assize must have been a 
 fortune in itself for Lord Jeffreys. It was told us after- 
 wards that he bought a fine property on the proceeds of 
 the bribes received and the sale of prisoners living or dead. 
 Methinks that such a house as that must surely have been 
 haunted by the shades of many an innocent sufferer ! 
 
 When the prisoners were brought forth from the Castle 
 by the Sheriffs, and the sledge brought which was to con- 
 vey them to the place of execution — the Cornhill, where 
 already a large fire had been lighted, so that those who 
 were to be dismembered and their hearts burned might see 
 the flames beforehand — they came forth looking calm and 
 glad, and speaking brave words of comfort both to one 
 another and to their friends, Mr. Benjamin Hewling being 
 (like his younger brother) most sweet and tender in his 
 fashion of speaking, so that tears ran down all faces. But 
 the Sheriffs hurried them upon the sledge, grudging to 
 them even the last words and embraces of their fiiends ; 
 and then the procession started. But a very strange thing 
 then happened : the horses kept stopping short and refus- 
 ing to draw the sledge, and they snorted and shrank back, 
 and broke out in a sweat, as horses will do when greatly 
 frightened. And all men marvelled at it, and whispered 
 one to another that sure the Angel of the Lord stood witli 
 a drawn sword in his hand to keep back His servants 
 from their bloody doom. I believe indeed that this was 
 so ; for I, who was mounted on Blackbird, that I might 
 see above the heads of the crowd, felt him shake and
 
 462 THE JUDGE'S SENTENCES. 
 
 grow rigid beneath me, ass though he too saw some strange 
 sight. At last the Mayor and Sheriffs had themselves to 
 come forward and actually pull and force the horses on- 
 wards, although to the very last they resisted, and showed 
 every sign of terror and reluctance. 
 
 Upon the scaffold the prisoners embraced each other and 
 joined in prayer ; but they were rudely interrupted by the 
 Sheriff, who doubtless feared some breaking forth on the 
 part of the people. 
 
 " May we not pray a while ere we are brought before 
 our Maker ? " asked one ; whereupon the Sheriff answered 
 by a rough question, — 
 
 " Will you pray for the King ? " 
 
 " I pray for all men," was the answer ; and having thus 
 prayed, he further asked if they might sing a Psalm. 
 
 " It must be with the ropes about your necks then," 
 answered the Sheriff brutally ; but with a smile they con- 
 sented joyfully to this. 
 
 Sure never was Psalm so sweetly or strangely sung as 
 the twenty-third of David that day by our brothers just 
 with their last breath. So touched were all by the scene, 
 that it seemed as though all the town had come forth to 
 bear to their graves those for whom this favour had been 
 purchased ; and as we stood to see the earth thrown upon 
 them, we broke ourselves into the words of the same Psalm, 
 and felt indeed that the valley of death had had no terrors 
 for those who walked with the staff of the Lord in their 
 hands, and were comforted by His presence even there.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 PEACE AFTER STORM. 
 
 THE Judge was gone ; the prisons were emptying 
 fast ; men began to breathe again after their long 
 terror; those who had fled their homes, and had been 
 living in hiding in terror of their lives, came out once 
 more, and appeared to gladden the hearts of their friends. 
 It was said that a general pardon would now be issvied to 
 all those who had not suffered, and that the terrible time 
 was over at last. The King, we heard, had been excel- 
 lently well pleased by what his Lord Chief-Justice had 
 done in the West, and soon rewarded him with the 
 Chancellorship, as had always been believed. I think 
 perhaps it was the knowledge of these things which went 
 far to stir the hearts of the people against their sovereign, 
 and to pave the way three years later for the bloodless 
 revolution which set a Protestant and a Constitutional 
 ruler upon the throne in place of the Papist tyrant. I 
 sometimes think that had we of the West Country had 
 more patience, and had we waited till the time was ripe, 
 we might have been called patriots and saviours of our 
 country instead of rebels and traitors, to be massacred and
 
 464 PEACE AFTER STORM. 
 
 hanged by the hundred. But then, again, I have learned 
 to doubt whether the Duke of Monmouth would ever have 
 been received by the nation, or have made a wise ruler 
 had he been so received. Men who best understand him 
 and the matter say that he could never have made good 
 his title to the throne, that he was not born in wedlock, 
 and that the people would never have suffered a sovereign 
 with a stain upon his birth. Queen Mary with her good 
 husband proved a kind and a wise ruler, and beneath 
 her gentle sway peace, order, liberty, and prosperity were 
 quickly restored ; and yet there be men who even now 
 talk as though the Duke or his son might yet come back 
 to put forward a claim, and many declare that he never 
 died upon the scaffold, but that he was personated to the 
 very last by a devoted follower. 
 
 All this is looking ahead. In the days of which I 
 speak we had no knowledge of the good times to come. 
 We breathed indeed, feeling that the iron hand of military 
 and judicial vengeance was relaxed from our throat ; but 
 it seemed to us then as if the bloody James were seated 
 all the more firmly upon his throne. 
 
 And now what shall I tell next of all the events that 
 followed in such quick succession ? Perhaps whilst my 
 mind is upon the subject I will speak of Mr. Blewer and 
 the vengeance which fell upon him for his cruelty to a 
 Taunton boy. 
 
 I have mentioned before good Bishop Ken, who did so 
 much to ease the condition of prisoners, and who was 
 beloved throuahout all his diocese. He came to visit
 
 PEACE AFTER STORM 465 
 
 Taunton not long after these things had happened ; and 
 going into the prison, he found poor Will in a sad state 
 still, although greatly better than he had been. 
 
 It chanced, as luck would have it, that I was with him 
 when the Bishop came ; for Will's case had excited much 
 comment in the town, and he was permitted to see his 
 friends and enjoy many small privileges, which indeed his 
 state demanded. And after the kindly Bishop had spoken 
 to the boy, and had prayed beside him a beautiful prayer, 
 he asked me how he came into so sad a state. Then I told 
 him everything I knew, striving to hold my wrath in 
 check, as was due to my superior, but scarce able to keep 
 it from breaking out when I spoke of Mr. Blewer. 
 
 I thought that the Lord Bishop's face grew stern as 
 he listened, and I hoped that some punishment might fall 
 upon the man who was a disgrace to the sacred calling 
 he had embraced ; and in truth I was not mistaken in 
 this, as I will proceed to tell. 
 
 I think it was the next day that the Bishop and Mr. 
 Axe were walking together through the town, and talking 
 of many things — Mr. Axe, as I have many times said, being 
 a reverend and godly man, well thought of by all, a loyal 
 servant to the King, and a lover of order, but always on 
 the side of mercy and justice. 
 
 Well, as these walked and talked there came towards 
 them Mr. Blewer, mincing and bowing, and plainly resolved 
 to gain the notice of the Lord Bishop ; for lie liad an eye to 
 promotion to some office in the Church, and trusted that 
 he might gain the good-will of this good man, and so be 
 (511) 30
 
 466 PEACE AFTER STORM. 
 
 appointed to some living. As lie approached, the Bishop 
 looked at him, asking his companion who the person was 
 who evidently desired to attract his notice. Mr. Axe re- 
 plied with some brevity and coldness that his name was 
 Mr. Blower, and that he had been living for some time in 
 Taunton, appointed by Mr. Harte to assist in the services 
 of St. Mary's Church. 
 
 At the sound of that name the Bishop's fine face became 
 very stern ; and as Mr. Blewer came up with mincing 
 steps and hat in hand, believing that the Bishop had 
 paused to permit his approach, he fixed his eyes upon him, 
 and spoke in a tone that all the bystanders could hear. 
 
 " Mr. Blewer," he said, " I have heard of you before. 
 Indeed I have had it in my thoughts to summon you to 
 my presence." 
 
 " My lord, you do me too much honour ! " was the 
 delighted answer, as the creature stood bowing and mincing 
 before the Bishop, his evil face wearing its expression of 
 submissive adulation, such as had been seen upon it in 
 presence of the Lord Chief -Justice. " It is very true that 
 I have done all in my poor power in the cause of law and 
 righteousness during these troubled days, but I had scarce 
 hoped that my poor services would have reached the ears 
 of my gracious lord." 
 
 " Sir," answered the good Bishop, with gathering stern- 
 ness, " the less you speak of righteousness the better, for 
 there has been little of it in your conduct during these 
 troubled days. Sir, think you that at a time when every 
 man calling; himself the servant of God should have been
 
 PEACE AFTER STORM. 467 
 
 straining every nerve in the canse of mercy and tenderness, 
 it is for the clergy to disgrace themselves by acts of selfish- 
 ness, rapacity, and barbarity which make all honest men 
 shudder and breathe forth curses ? Nay, sir, answer me 
 not. It is for me to speak and for you to listen. I have 
 heard of you, Mr. Blewer. I have heard how you perse- 
 cuted an innocent maiden, and how you cajoled and bribed 
 a certain high personage to grant you her hand in marriage, 
 not for any love you bore her — for you had openly boasted 
 that you would rid yourself of her in a year's time — but 
 because she had money, which you desired to possess ; and 
 how she was only saved from your malice by the merciful 
 hand of death. Sir, you are as guilty of that sweet and 
 tender maiden's death as though you had slain her with 
 your own hands. Small wonder that the very thought of 
 being placed for life in such cruel hands caused that deadly 
 fever of which she quickly died. I blush with shame to 
 think that one who has dared to take upon himself the 
 sacred calling and the holy ofiice of the priesthood could 
 ever thus disgrace both himself and his calling ! " 
 
 " My lord, my lord, you have been misinformed. Some 
 enemy has been wickedly slandering me. Alas ! in this 
 evil town a godly man has but too many foes. I swear 
 that I loved the maid — that I would have made her the 
 best of husbands. My lord, I have been cruelly maligned. 
 There is no man in Taunton with a tenderer heart tlian 
 mine. God be my witness that I speak the truth ! " 
 
 The Bishop raised his hand in stern displeasure. " Sir,'' 
 he said, " take not that Holy Name to profane it by false-
 
 468 PEACE AFTER STORM. 
 
 hood. Can a man who will drink himself drunk with the 
 Lord Jeffreys and his boon companions, and join with him 
 in profane swearing and ribald jesting — can he be a fit 
 spouse for a godly and a pure maid, to whom evil is but 
 a name ? Mr. Blewer, think not to deceive me by false 
 swearing; I know too much of you and of your j^ractices. 
 And as though it was not enough to seek to wreck the life 
 of this maiden, you must seek also to do to death in a 
 most cruel and barbarous manner a lad whose only fault 
 has been a boyish lack of discretion. Sir, my blood tingles 
 in my veins at the thought of this thing. Were our 
 prisons not crowded enough with men taken in the very 
 act of rebellion, that you must needs lay an accusation 
 against a young lad of excellent character for a mere in- 
 discretion, and get him also incarcerated in those filthy 
 dens, to languish there for weeks \ And having done this, 
 and having borne witness which gained for the poor child 
 a whipping far in excess of his fault, what fiend possessed 
 you to carry a tale to the Judge in his cups, and gain for 
 the boy such handling that his life has barely been saved 
 by the exertions of his friends and the leniency of the 
 prison authorities, themselves ashamed of such a deed ? 
 Man, man, I almost forget myself in anger as I think of 
 this thing. You calling yourself a priest and servant of 
 the Most High God, a minister of His children, a messenger 
 of peace and righteousness — you to show yourself such a 
 monster of cruelty that the blood curdles at the tale of 
 your deeds ! Go, sir ; let me never see you again. And 
 do not dare ever to pollute a pulpit, or perform any holy
 
 PEACE AFTER STORM. 469 
 
 office in the diocese over wliich I reign, lest I take upon 
 myself to excommunicate you, as in the good old days of 
 ecclesiastical discipline would have been done for a far less 
 ottence than yours ! " 
 
 And the good Bishop walked on with a stern face, 
 leaving the miscreant he had so worthily lashed with his 
 tongue cowering and shivering with rage and fear, his 
 face livid with passion and disappointment, and his hands 
 nervously clutching at the cane he carried, as though in 
 an instinctive longing to lay it about the shoulders of 
 some innocent victim. 
 
 Not daring to follow, or to say another word to the 
 good BishojD, who was known to be a most tender-hearted 
 man, and whose scathing rebuke was therefore far more 
 telling than it would have been in the lips of the military 
 Bishop Mew, who had actually taken the field in person, 
 the wretched creature lingered staring after the retreating 
 hgures until they had turned the next corner, and then, 
 gnashing his teeth in impotent shame and rage, he turned 
 towards his own lodgings, and made as though he would 
 have retired thither. 
 
 But he was not destined to attain this shelter so speedily 
 as he had thought. A crowd had gathered in the street 
 to hear the Bishop's reprimand, and murnmrs of applause 
 and approval had greeted every scathing rebuke. The 
 very fact that the Bishop had not scrupled to speak thus 
 in public to a clergyman showed hoAv greatly his indig- 
 nation had been aroused ; and as the evil creature turned 
 to leave the scene of his humiliation, he found himself
 
 47 o PEACE AF2ER STORAT. 
 
 suddenly confronted b_y the brawny blacksmith who had 
 given him a taste of his tongue on another occasion. 
 
 " Ho, ho, Sir Priest ! so the good Lord Bishop is not a 
 friend to drunkenness and debauchery and savage cruelty ! 
 And so the discipline of the Church is relaxed, is it, and 
 its evil servants cannot be touched ? Sure that must be 
 a sore matter of regret to so righteous a man as good Mr. 
 Blewer. — Friends," and here he turned his face with a not 
 too pleasant grin upon it towards the crowd now pressing 
 closely round, " since the good gentleman here is debarred 
 from the discipline of the Church, suppose we good citizens 
 give him a taste of such discijDline as our town cudgels 
 can bestow." 
 
 A yell of delight answered this suggestion, and a hun- 
 dred staffs wei'e immediately waved in the air. Mr. 
 Blewer's face turned a livid green tint, and he looked at 
 his tormentor with a sickly smile, fumbling in his pocket 
 the while. 
 
 " Very good, very good, my merry friend. Thou art 
 qviite a wag in thy way," he gasped in his coward teii'or 
 at the ring of fierce faces around him. " An excellent 
 jest in truth, and one which I will myself tell to the 
 good Bishop when I go to clear myself in his sight of 
 the slanders he has heard against me. All friends of the 
 people have enemies who malign them, and so it has been 
 with me. Here, my good fellow, take that, and bid your 
 friends disperse. I am a man of peace ; let us have no 
 unseemly disturbance here in the streets." 
 
 Hs would have pressed a golden guinea into the black-
 
 PEACE AFTER STORM. 471 
 
 smith's hand, but that honest rogue turned away -witli an 
 expression of scorn and disgust. 
 
 " Thy money perish with thee ! " he cried, in a great 
 access of wrath ; and bringing down his heavy staff upon 
 the shoulders of the luckless Mr. Blewer, he shouted out, 
 " Take that, thou coward and craven monster of cruelty ! 
 take that and that, and think of Will Wiseman ! Would 
 I could break every bone in that wretched body of thine ! " 
 
 With a yell of pain and terror, and an agonized ciy for 
 the watch — which, however, never came — the wretched 
 man sprang away and hurled himself through the crowd, 
 every man of which, who was armed with a stick, hit him 
 a blow as he passed, and every woman snatched at his 
 coat or scratched his face, till his clothing was half torn 
 off his back, and his face was running down with blood ; 
 and every one who struck him called out in savage ac- 
 cents, " Remember Will Wiseman ! " or, " Take that for 
 Will's sake ! " or some phrase like that, till the wretched 
 man must have wished from the very ground of his heart 
 that he had let Will Wiseman alone. And when I heard 
 the story, and how Mr. Blewer had been beaten almost 
 into a jelly ere he reached the shelter of his house, I felt 
 indeed that Will had been avenged, and that God had 
 wrought vengeance even by the hands of the lawless and 
 violent men. 
 
 Nor was any notice taken of this outrage by the autho- 
 rities. I think both the Mayor and the magistrates felt 
 that Mr. Blewer had only met his due. The rebuke of the 
 Bishop was known to them, and there was no desire to
 
 472 PEACE AFTER STORM. 
 
 take up the cudgels for a creature of such evil notoriety 
 All the town was sick of bloodshed and confusion, and was 
 breathing once more in the hope of quieter days to come. 
 To raise an inquiry and to punish the ringleaders of the 
 mob would only stir the city into anger and even rebellion 
 once again. So Mr. Blewer made his plaint in vain, and 
 got no redress ; and it was said of him that he went to 
 Bristol as soon as he was able to travel, and drunk himself 
 to death there before the year was ended ; but of this I 
 know nothing certain. I never saw the miserable creature 
 again, and I can only think it very like him to come to 
 such an end after the disappointments and the violent 
 usage he had received. 
 
 The news of this discomfiture of his enemy, and of the 
 vengeance taken upon him by the citizens, did much to 
 hearten up poor Will after his long illness. I told him 
 the story myself as he lay on his pallet bed upon his face 
 — for his poor back was still all raw, and it would be long 
 before his wounds would be healed. But the old spirit 
 was coming back into my comrade, and I saw his eyes 
 glow and flash just in the old way. 
 
 " O good Jem Truslove, good Jem Truslove ! methinks I 
 can see and hear him ! O Dicon, it were a thousand pities 
 I was not there to see it with mine own eyes ! Had it 
 been somebody else, how I would have thrashed him mine 
 own self ! So they made him remember Will Wiseman, 
 did they ? Ah, it was good of them ! it was indeed a 
 kindly act ! Dicon, methinks after all he may have done 
 me a good turn yet, for all that he meant to have killed
 
 PEACE AFTER STORM. 473 
 
 me : for the Governor was here yesterday after thou hadst 
 gone, and he told me that so soon as I could be moved I 
 was free to go back to my friends ; that my sentence liad 
 terminated, and that he was sorry I had been so roughly 
 handled. Now that that monster of a Judge is gone, men 
 are ashamed to think what he made them do. They are 
 sick to death of bloodshed and cruelty, and would fain 
 save all his victims from the fate he desired for them." 
 
 This indeed was very true. The Bloody Assizes, as men 
 began to call them, had produced an indelible impression 
 all over this West Country. The gentry, who had been 
 all along against the rising for the Duke, and had joined 
 hands with the party of order, on seeing the horrible and 
 bloody vengeance taken upon the wretched inhabitants of 
 their towns and villages, experienced a revulsion of feeling, 
 and a great hatred of the King who could rejoice in and 
 applaud such wholesale slaughter. They had believed that 
 the ringleaders would of necessity suffer death — that was 
 a necessary consequence of such an act of rebellion ; but 
 after the Duke had been beheaded, and after the rising had 
 been so completely quelled, it was said by all moderate and 
 merciful men that but a slight punishment should be in- 
 flicted upon the mass of lesser prisoners, who had been led 
 away by ignorance and enthusiasm misplaced, and were 
 like sheep following one another they knew not whither. 
 
 The sending down of the bloodiest and most ini({uitous 
 Judge upon the bench with authority to massacre ^^'hole- 
 sale, and the unbridled ferocity with which he had carried 
 out his bloody task, had thoroughly displeased and dis-
 
 474 PEACE AFTER STORM. 
 
 gusted all moderate and merciful men ; and the honours 
 heaped upon the bloody wretch by his admiring sovereign 
 on his return had added to the universal execration in 
 which he was held. All mercy that was possible was 
 therefore fearlessly shown now to those who had escaped 
 the peril of the law, or lay under some sentence like that 
 of Will Wiseman. Other men — ay, and women too — had 
 been condemned to be whipped through various places at 
 intervals ; but the magistrates took it upon themselves to 
 release them after a very small part of the punishment had 
 been inflicted. A sense of peace and security settled down 
 upon a region so long rent by faction and fear. The citi- 
 zens felt that the gentry were at heart with them in their 
 indignation against the King, and in their desire after purer 
 government ; and although at the moment there was no 
 thought of any fresh rising, the people began to whisper 
 that a deliverer would come some day, and that the op- 
 pressed nation would turn as one man, and hurl the bloody 
 tyrant from his throne. 
 
 So although there was mourning and woe in too many 
 homes in Taunton, yet there was rejoicing in others ; and 
 amongst these latter was the house of Master Simpson, 
 which was gladdened by the return of the master, on the 
 very day when poor Will Wiseman had been got back, 
 after having been so long away and suffered so much. 
 
 I had brought him back myself in a coach which my 
 uncle had sent from our inn ; and I had made him com- 
 fortable upon a couch, and Lizzie and her aunt were hang- 
 ing over him and asking him all manner of questions, and
 
 PEACE AFTER STORM. 475 
 
 making as much of him as though he had indeed been 
 their brother and nephew, when we were startled by a 
 heavy footfall up the flagged garden walk (for the inijjulse 
 of fear was still strong within us, and we were easily 
 alarmed at any unexpected sound), and Lizzie suddenly 
 uttered a little scream of ecstasy, and the next moment 
 had sprung right into her father's arms. 
 
 Oh, what a clatter of tongues and clamour of voices 
 there was, everybody speaking at once, and nobody able 
 to listen till the first joyful excitement had passed ! 
 
 Master Simpson — he would never let himself be called 
 Captain again— had a long story to tell us of his narrow 
 escapes from the bands of soldiers after the fatal field of 
 Sedgemoor. He had been amongst those who had made 
 such a gallant stand upon the edge of the rliine, and had 
 fired volley after volley into the surprised and disordered 
 ranks of the enemy long after the Duke had fled at the 
 instance of Lord Grey, and in fact until every round of 
 ammunition had been used. He confirmed the story told 
 me by the poor soldier in the ditch, that if the ammunition- 
 waggons had but come up, and the cavalry had but re- 
 formed even at a distance and shown something of a front, 
 the day might easily have been ours. He spoke bitterly 
 of Lord Grey, and declared that if Lord Vere had been 
 there things would have gone very differently. But I 
 have often thought since that Lord Grey was scarce as 
 much to blame as our people always said. I doubt 
 whether the untrained horses would have stood the sound 
 of tiring had their riders been never so stout of heart. It
 
 476 PEACE AFTER STORM. 
 
 is a long time before the mettlesome creatures can be made 
 to understand that they must face the flash of fire-arms and 
 the terrible noise and smell. Sometimes it takes two years 
 before a horse is seasoned ; and these animals had been 
 but a few weeks at most with the army, and had only 
 smelt powder once or twice before. 
 
 Yet if the horses would not stand, their riders should 
 have sent on the ammunition as fast as possible, instead of 
 spreading dismay through the rear of the army and keep- 
 ing back both the waggons and the rest of the foot. 
 There was nothing to excuse the confusion which their 
 rout created in the rear of the army. But what boots it 
 to talk of these matters now ? The day was lost, and 
 Master Simpson, slightly wounded and greatly exhausted, 
 had crawled into a ditch to hide himself, and was passed 
 over by the soldiers in their first search. Afterwards he 
 got up and slunk away in an opposite direction from 
 Bridgewater, and received much kindness at a woodman's 
 hut, where the people took care of him for several days, 
 and where he healed him of his wound. Then fearing to 
 remain so near to the scene of Colonel Kirke's activity, he 
 fled towards Philip's Norton, knowing the country from 
 having traversed it before but recently ; and many narrow 
 escapes did he have of falling into the hands of the soldiers. 
 But fortune favoured him, and he escaped each time, 
 though once he was up hiding in the rafters of an old 
 barn, whilst the soldiers were eating and sleeping on the 
 ground beneath him ; and he almost gave himself up for 
 lost once, when the beam creaked beneath his weight, and
 
 PEACE AFTER STORM. 477 
 
 somebody called out, " Is anybody up there ? Speak, man, 
 or I fire ! " 
 
 He did not, however, speak, nor did the soldier fire. 
 The men laughed, and the officer swore at them for wak- 
 ing him up ; and so they settled to their slumbers again. 
 
 That was the nearest shave he had, but many were his 
 perils ; and Lizzie sat holding his hand, and looking into 
 his face with eyes full of terror and ecstasy ; whilst the 
 aunt bustled about to get the best supper the town could 
 produce upon a sudden, and Master Simpson turned to 
 Will and made him tell all his history. 
 
 He shook his head, and his face looked stern as he 
 heard of the cruel Judge ; but it brightened as he heard 
 how Mr. Blewer had been served, and said, rubbing his 
 hands together, — 
 
 " Good lads of Taunton, good brother citizens, would I 
 had been there to add a sounding blow to theirs ! Would 
 that we could serve the Judge the same ! Would that he 
 might be at the mercy of the West Country lads some 
 day!" 
 
 " Somehow," said Will slowly, as he lay white and thin 
 upon his couch, a strange light coming slowly into his eyes 
 as he spoke — " somehow I seem to think that I shall have 
 my turn some day even with Judge Jeffreys ! I think 
 that I shall avenge upon him the wrongs of our people 
 before he lays down his wicked life ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 MY LORD AND MY LADY. 
 
 I HAVE spoken of other matters first ; but it must not 
 be thought that the affairs of Mistress Mary and my 
 lord had been forgotten all this time. 
 
 Both, however, were in .safe hiding ; and until the 
 wicked Judge had left for London, and till peace and tran- 
 quillity had settled down upon our distracted country, it 
 was better that they should remain there. No one knew 
 exactly what turn might be taken by affairs from day to 
 day ; and especially until Mr. Blewer had left Taunton, I 
 was in continual anxiety as to Mistress Mary's safety, 
 being haunted by a fear that he would get wind somehow 
 of the trick played upon him, and discover the maid in her 
 hiding-place. 
 
 Not that I thought now he could do aught to molest 
 her, for all the place was hot against him ; but the 
 Judge's words were that he had liberty to wed the maid, 
 and who could tell what steps he might not take in order 
 to obtain possession of her once more ? 
 
 So Mistress Mary lay in hiding, whilst her towns-folk 
 talked of her as dead ; and so the days slipped by. I
 
 MY LORD AND MY LADY. 479 
 
 heard also good news of my lord at Ilminster, when I rode 
 Blackbird across to ask for him. I had but a short wliile 
 to stay ; but I saw him for a few minutes, and told him 
 that Mistress Mary was safe, albeit I gave him not the 
 whole history of her peril, fearing that he would incon- 
 tinently come forth from his hiding-place to defend her, 
 and perhaps put both their lives in peril thereby. 
 
 For the pardon, although talked of, had not yet reached 
 us ; and it was scarce safe for one of my lord's rank to 
 show himself openly, though others might venture to do 
 so, as Master Simpson had done. 
 
 I think it was two days after this visit that Mistress 
 Mary Bridges sent for me on some excuse about her pony 
 — for I had chosen one for her not long since, and had 
 helped to break it in. When I arrived she took me into 
 the paddock, dismissing all others ; and whilst we stood 
 there seeming to be talking of the pony, who came and 
 stood beside us, she began, in her quick, eager fashion, — 
 
 " Dicon, what are we to do next ? " 
 
 I knew what she meant, and I had asked myself the 
 question many a time before, but I had never found the 
 answer. Mistress Mary continued, in her quick, imperious 
 fashion, — 
 
 " Mary cannot stay where she is much longer. It is no 
 fit place for her when the winter days come. Only those 
 born in the marshes can live there, and they ofttimes suffer 
 from ague and marsh fever. Mary cannot stand it much 
 longer. But where can she go ? Mary Mead is dead. I 
 know not whether she would suffer some penalty — or her
 
 48o MY LORD AND MY LADY. 
 
 friends — if she came to life again ; and Lord Lonsdale hath 
 her money, for he is her heir. And how can we get it 
 back for her without telling all ? And I fear Lord Lons- 
 dale. He is not like my father ; and he is a King's man 
 every inch. What are we to do for her next, Dicon ? 
 Methinks that thou and I have this secret to ourselves. 
 Sometimes I half fear at what we have done, and then 
 again I say that were it to do over again I would do just 
 the same. But Mary cannot always lie hidden ; and how 
 is she to appear again ? That is what is perplexing me. 
 Dicon, what shall we do ? " 
 
 " Marry her to my lord ! " I cried suddenly, struck by 
 an unexpected inspiration. " So she will be my Lady 
 Vere, and Mistress Mary Mead no longer. If she has lost 
 one name, let her have another bestowed upon her. Let 
 her be married to my lord ! " 
 
 Mistress Mary's eyes brightened like stars. 
 
 " Ah, Dicon, a good thought ! " she cried, clasping her 
 hands over the pony's neck ; " but how may that be ac- 
 complished ? " 
 
 I was not quite so ready with an answer ; but after a 
 pause I said, — - 
 
 " Mistress Mary, suppose you tell your lady mother all, 
 and ask for her advice ; and I will think over a notion 
 which has but just now entered my head. Let us meet 
 again upon the third day from this, and speak of what 
 we have done. If you could get Mistress Mary safely to 
 Ilminster in a secret fashion, perchance the rest might be 
 managed ; but until the pardon be issued, my lord cannot
 
 MY LORD AND MY LADY. 48 1 
 
 openly show himself, for he docs not know that his own 
 father might not give him np to justice, so grieved and 
 wroth was he at seeing his son in arms ao-ainst the Kinof." 
 
 " Ah no ; he is not so bad as that ! " answered Mistress 
 Mary. " And men talk very differently of the King from 
 what they did a few weeks back. He has lost many of 
 his friends, and will likely lose more." 
 
 " Then things will be all the better for us and our plans, 
 Mistress," I said ; and after some more conversation of no 
 especial moment, I left her and returned to Taunton full 
 of my own plan, which was indeed one of much boldness, 
 seeing how humble mine own birth was, and that it was 
 something bold of me to think of sj)eaking with the great 
 ones of the earth. 
 
 Yet my idea was nothing less than to strive to win 
 the good Bishop Ken to stand our friend ; and as he had 
 always ^iven me a friendly smile and nod since the day 
 when he had seen me in tlie prison, I thought I miglit 
 even presume to seek speech of him, since all men said how 
 gentle and courteous he was to all who approached him, 
 and how he was striving to bring back peace and pros- 
 perity to his distracted diocese. 
 
 Moreover, he was still in Taunton at this time ; and I 
 had heard it said that he was shortly going to visit Mr. 
 Speke of White Lackington House, near to Ilminster, of 
 which mention has been made before. Mr. Speke had lost 
 a son in the rebellion, executed at Ilminster, and he himself 
 lay under charges to pay a very heavy fine for his sujiposed 
 or real share in the rebellion. The Bishop's visit was one 
 (sn; .31
 
 ^82 MY LORD AND MY LADY. 
 
 of condolence and friendship, and was likely to last a week 
 or more. If I could but get speech of him before he 
 started, I felt hopeful of bringing this matter of my lord's 
 to a happy conclusion. 
 
 Fortune favoured me ; for I met the Bishop the very 
 next morning, walking and meditating quite alone in some 
 of the meadows beside the stream. I had heard that he 
 liad been seen to leave the town, but I scarce hoped to 
 light upon him thus easily. He gave me a smile and a 
 nod as usual, and then paused to ask liow Will Wiseman 
 fared, and was pleased to hear that he had been released 
 and taken back to his master's house, where he was treated 
 now as a son. And when we had spoken a few minutes 
 of him, and the Bishop would have passed on, I plucked 
 up my courage and said, — 
 
 " My lord, may I speak a word to you concerning some- 
 thing that lies heavy upon my heart ? " 
 
 He gave me a quick, keen look, and then motioned me 
 to walk beside him ; and although he was so high and 
 great a man, before whom all men bowed as he went along 
 the streets, yet I am very sure that he told me as he 
 walked that he was my servant, and that I need not fear 
 to speak openly of what was burdening me. And I have 
 thought, both then and since, that the holier and greater 
 men are, the humbler and gentler they sliow themselves. 
 Sure no man could have listened with so much kindliness 
 to my story had not his heart been as full of the love of 
 God as our good Bishop's was. 
 
 And I told liim everything from fost to last — all that I
 
 MY LORD AND MY LADY. .jS^ 
 
 have been laboriously strivino^ to set foi'tli in these pacres — 
 all of it, at least, tliat in any way concerned my loi-d and 
 Mistress Mary ; and how that she was living all the while, 
 though held dead by her towns-folk and acquaintance : and 
 how my lord was in hiding with mine aunt, and that I 
 believed it was commonly reported that he had died of his 
 wounds in the prison, though of that I could not speak 
 certainly. But I spoke of the love those twain had ever 
 borne one another, and how that death would be more 
 welcome to either than to be sundered through this life ; 
 and at last, with tears starting to my eyes (for I had worked 
 myself up to a state of great excitement), I stopped short 
 and threw myself at the Bishop's feet, and ci-ied througli 
 my sobs, — • 
 
 " And, O my lord, if 3'ou would l)ut bo their friend and 
 marry them, so that none could sunder them more, they 
 would bless you for ever, and I trow you never woxihl 
 repent it ; and methinks even Lord Lonsdale would rejoice 
 to have his son given back to him — with so fair and sweet 
 a bride at his side. He loves Mistress Mary — he always 
 loved her ; and sure to have them both brought back as if 
 from the grave would gladden any father's heart ! O my 
 lord, think of it — think of it, I pray you on my bended 
 knees ! " 
 
 " Nay, nay, lad," answered the Bishop, layiug a kindly 
 hand upon my head ; " it is to God alone that prayers 
 must be addressed upon our bended knee. 1 am thy 
 brother and fellow-servant ; no sucli prayers should thy 
 lips frame or my ears listen to. Oet upon thy feet, lad,
 
 4S4 MV LORD AND MY LADY. 
 
 and calm thyself. I can make thee no promise as to what 
 I will or will not do in this strange case that thou hast 
 laid before me, but I will at least relieve thy young 
 shoulders from the burden they bear, see Lord Vere my- 
 self, and that right soon, and hear what he has to say 
 of all this. I knew him as a fair child, and I have some 
 knowledge of his father. I am deej)ly interested in thy 
 tale. I say not that all has been well done ; but I will 
 not condemn thee, because thou hast been sorely tempted, 
 and in these dark days of fear the best and strongest are 
 ofttimes led to swerve from the straight path of virtue. 
 There, boy, go home with thee. I would think more of 
 this. And if thou knowest what becomes of Mistress Mary, 
 let me hear it ere I leave for Ilminster three days hence." 
 
 I raced homewards with a heart wonderfully lightened 
 of the load which had begun to press sorely upon it. And 
 it was still more lightened when I next saw Mistress Mary 
 Bridges, who told me that she had whispered her story of 
 Mary's escape into her mother's ear ; and that although 
 the mother was rather disturbed and uneasy at the daring 
 scheme, she had not chidden her daughter overmuch, and 
 was helping now to get the other Mary conveyed away to 
 Ilminster, where her face was not known, and where she 
 might remain in safe obscurity until something had been 
 decided. Lady Bridges had a sister living in that town, 
 and was about to send her daughter to her on a visit, the 
 elder Mary accompanying her as her maid. It was no 
 longer safe for her to remain amid the unwholesome 
 marshes, and as soon as Sir Ralph should return from town
 
 MY LORD AND MY LADY. 485 
 
 the matter was to be laid before him, and lie would adxise 
 the next step. 
 
 My heart bounded with joy when I heard that lliiiinstei- 
 was to be the place of Mistress Mary's residence ; for was 
 not my lord there ? and if he were there and the good 
 Bishop too, what might not happen to bring all things to 
 a happy conclusion ? I did not tell Mistress Mary of my 
 talk with the Bishop, fearing lest I should stir up hopes 
 which might not be fulfilled later ; but I hugged the know- 
 ledge in my heart, and I thought of little else during the 
 days which followed. My heart was in Ilminster, but I 
 was kept at Taunton by my work in my uncle's house. 
 Life was beginning to move in its accustomed grooves again, 
 and I had my set duties to attend to, and could not rove 
 about almost at will, as I had done during the months of 
 distraction and excitement during which life seemed to 
 have entirely changed its conditions. I could run to and 
 fro in the town, and visit friends there at leisure moments ; 
 read or tell the news to poor Will ; and make a little boyish 
 love to Lizzie, who grew dearer and dearer to me every 
 week. But I could not get otf to Ilminster for some while, 
 and no letter reached me from thence. Mistress Mary 
 Bridges, as I heard, was still with her aunt ; and that was 
 all I knew. 
 
 The house next door stood blank and emi)ty. Poor Miss 
 Blake had died in prison of jail ft'\(H- or small-pox (as 
 was severally reported) very soon after her admission 
 there. Mrs. Musgrave, who had always kept much more 
 in the background, had now retired, and the school
 
 486 MV LORD AND MY LADY. 
 
 which had obtained such a sudden notoriety ceased to 
 exist. 
 
 The general pardon, so anxiously waited for by the still 
 half -fearful people, came at last ; and we were glad when 
 it did so that Miss Blake was no longer in this world, for 
 her name had been excepted from it, and figured upon the 
 list of those whom the King refused to pardon. The Maids 
 who had presented the colours (or rather their parents and 
 friends) were still being harried by the Maids of Honour 
 for the fine-money, and the negotiation was long of settle- 
 ment. The rapacious Court ladies demanded seven thousand 
 pounds ; but after long wrangling I believe they were 
 forced to content themselves with less than half. From 
 time to time I used to hear from the indignant Lizzie that 
 the matter was still under negotiation ; but how it was 
 finally adjusted I cannot now remember, nor is it of any 
 moment to these pages. 
 
 The arrival of the general pardon was the signal for a 
 public holiday. Bonfires blazed, bells rang joyfully from 
 the church steeples, and I asked and obtained leave to 
 take myself off and ride to Ilminster to see how my kins- 
 woman there fared. 
 
 All the town was astir and in holiday guise, as Taunton 
 had been when Blackbird and I rode forth in the morning. 
 Although the wind was sharp and keen, the sun shone 
 merrily, and all faces looked beaming and happy. At my 
 aunt's house I saw an appearance of stir and festivity by 
 no means usual there ; and when I stopped at the door and 
 asked for her, I was told that she was at the church, and
 
 MY LORD AND MY LADY. 487 
 
 that I had best follow lier tlicrc. This I was ready to do, 
 for I took it to be some special thanksgiving service that 
 was going on, and I was willing enough to add my voice 
 to that of a glad and happy people, relieved from a long 
 oppression and fear. But wlien I neared the church, I 
 saw few persons going in or coming out, and concluded 
 that my aunt must have gone to repeat her private thanks- 
 givings there. 
 
 Nevertheless having come so far, I was not to be turned 
 back, and I entered the building with bent head and hushed 
 footfall, hearing a voice at the upper end reciting some 
 office, though the seats about the lower end of the churcli 
 were all empty. 
 
 Treading cautiously so as not to be heard, I advanced 
 towards the choir, when I was suddenly arrested by a sight 
 that sent the blood surging into my head till I felt that I 
 must grasp something solid or I should surely fall. For 
 the service ooino- on was a wedding. The bride and the 
 bridegroom were even now joining hands, and speaking the 
 irrevocable word which made them man and Avife. I did 
 not need to look to recognize the clear tones of my lord's 
 voice, nor the soft sweetness of Mistress Mary's, nor 
 yet the beautiful mellowness of the good Bishop's. Yet 
 when the mist had cleared from niy eyes, I gazed and 
 gazed as though I could never satisfy myself. Yes, there 
 was my lord, looking more beautiful than o\-cr with his 
 golden hair, his deep-blue eyes, his face still pale from 
 sickness and confinement, but with a look of restored health, 
 that made my heart bound. And there beside him, in a
 
 488 MY LORD AND MY LADY. 
 
 long trailing gown of white that gave to her the air and 
 dignity of an empress, was Mistress Mary Mead — though 
 that name had but now passed from her keeping for ever 
 — a veil just shading her fair face, but unable to hide 
 the beautiful features and the glories of the dark un- 
 fathomable eyes. 
 
 Close beside her, as being the one who had given her in 
 marriage, was Sir Ralph Bridges, tall, upright, and soldier- 
 like ; whilst clinging to her mother's hand, sparkling, 
 kindling, brimming over with joyful excitement, was the 
 younger Mistress Mary, who can henceforth claim exclusive 
 right to that title ; and behind them, some paces distant, 
 my aunt, looking proud and happy beyond all words ; and 
 some score or more of persons who had heard the romantic 
 story, and were anxious to be present at the nuptials. 
 
 The marriage over, the Bishop gave a fatherly blessing ; 
 and soon the little procession moved down the long aisle to 
 the door, to which I had now retreated. 
 
 As they came out, my lord's eyes suddenly fell upon me, 
 and at once kindled with such a look as sent the hot blood 
 surging into my face. 
 
 " Dicon — it is good Dicon ! " he cried, and held out his 
 hand ; whilst over Mistress — I mean the Viscountess Veres 
 face there flashed such a sweet, tender smile, that I cherish 
 the memory of it to this very day. " Good Dicon, my 
 only sorrow to-day was that thou wert not here to see it," 
 said my lord. " What fairy messenger brought thee here 
 in time after all ? '' 
 
 I could not reply categorically to the question. My lord
 
 MY LORD AND MY LADY. 489 
 
 in his wliitc-and-silver suit, his <,^olden locks flowing' over 
 his shoulders, the sunlight streaming upon him, his face 
 full of light and unspeakable happiness, was a vision so 
 bright and so beautiful that ray eyes were dazzled, and my 
 heart too full for speech. I think they understood, for 
 the lady smiled at me and then at her husband, and she 
 said in a gentle tone, — 
 
 " We will see him again anon, Reginald. — For the present, 
 good Dicon, farewell. Come to us again another time." 
 
 Bowing low before them as they moved towards the 
 coach that awaited them, I could only exclaim in a gasp- 
 ing voice, — 
 
 " My dear lord I my gracious lady I "
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS SCENE. 
 
 THE great dinino--hall of Bishop's Hull was wreathed 
 in greenery and all ablaze with lights. In the 
 gallery overhead a band of musicians discoursed sweet 
 music, whilst below were assembled a party of gay and 
 merry guests, gathered round Sir Ralph Bridges' hospi- 
 table table ; and the only sorrowful face to be seen at 
 that board was the grave, anxious countenance of Lord 
 Lonsdale. 
 
 I was there, clad in the livery of the house, and waiting 
 at table with the practised skill which I had learned in 
 my uncle's inn. My heart was beating fast as I came and 
 went, and caught here and there a word of the talk passing 
 between the merry guests. Now one gentleman would 
 relate an anecdote or give us a reminiscence of his youth, 
 or another would speak to his neighbour, perhaps with 
 bated breath, of some of the recent events which had made 
 this year so memorable in our part of the country. 
 
 Although it was the eve of Christmas, and the prevailing 
 wish was to drop care and keep in the background all 
 sorrowful topics, yet it was impossible altogether to forget
 
 A CHRISTMAS SCENE. 491 
 
 or keep in abeyance thoughts so easily suggested by the 
 passing mention of persons or places. 
 
 Moreover, the sight of the sword hanging upon the wall 
 in a conspicuous position — Mistress Mary's sword — called 
 forth towards the close of the repast an account of that 
 incident, which had become known far and wide by this 
 time ; and when Sir Ralph told the tale, with pardonable 
 pride in his bright-faced young daughter, whose rosy 
 countenance glowed half with pleasure and half with modest 
 shame at all the notice bestowed upon her, every glass was 
 raised to be drained to her health, and a cheer went up 
 from many throats in honour of the maid who had not 
 feared to strike so goodly a blow in defence of her mother. 
 
 It was just when this buzz of acclamation was going 
 round that I heard Lord Lonsdale say mournfully to his 
 host, next to whom he was seated : " Ah, if my poor boy 
 were living yet, how happy it would have made me to 
 seek for him the hand of that brave daughter of yours in 
 marriage. Methinks the maid could soon have learned to 
 love him. I never knew any whom he had not the power 
 to win by his handsome face and winning A\'ays." 
 
 " He was a very goodly youtli," answered Sir Ralph, 
 quietly and gravely. " Have you given up all hopes of 
 seeing him again ? Are you assured of his death ? " 
 
 " I have ceased to hope now," replied the father, with 
 steady gravity. " It seems probable that he died of his 
 wounds in the Castle, albeit the Governor was not informed 
 of the fact, and in the general confusion of those days was 
 unable to trace v.'hether he had died, or been removed by
 
 492 A CHRISTMAS SCENE. 
 
 mistake to the pestilential Bridewell, where he was like to 
 perish quickly, enfeebled as he was, or whether he made 
 good his escape. For long I hoped that this last had 
 been the case ; and from the day on which the pardon 
 appeared I have been eagerly looking for tidings of or 
 from him. His name was not upon the list of exceptions. 
 There was no fear for him once that was out. If in the 
 land of the living, why does he give no sign ? Alas, 
 alas ! I fear there can be no doubt but that he is dead. 
 And I must bear about with me the life-long remorse of 
 having driven him to his death." 
 
 " Nay, my good friend, how could that be so ? " 
 " I thwarted the lad in the dearest wish of his heart," 
 answered Loi'd Lonsdale sadl}'. " Ah, how often have I 
 mourned that step and its dire consequences ! Thou knowest 
 my ward, Mary Mead, one of the sweetest maidens that 
 ever walked this earth \ Ah, why did I not see things 
 then as I do now ? ^ I loved her as a daughter, and yet I 
 had never thought of her as a wife for my son, being- 
 anxious to ally myself through him with the Portman 
 family, as you know. And when, as little more than 
 children, the pair plighted their troth and sought my 
 blessing, I denied it harshly, and sought to separate them 
 by sending her away to that place where she learned those 
 lessons which have been her undoing and that of my poor 
 boy also." 
 
 " Ah, I see ! Had she remained with you and been 
 wedded early to Lord Vere, she would have been saved 
 from the influences which worked so strongly upon her — '
 
 A CHRISTMAS SCENE. 493 
 
 " Ay, and were the cause at last of her death, as well as 
 the cause of my son's joining the rebels. His heart was 
 not with the Duke of Monmouth, albeit his soul doubtless 
 swelled within him at the tales of coward cruelty and 
 tyranny whicli he heard of his Majesty. After all, good 
 Sir Ralph, if you and I can foresee a day when perhaps 
 some such struggle must again be fought, though with 
 another and a more righteous and legitimate champion, ere 
 this land can be freed from the curse of tyranny, can we 
 blame so harshly the younger and more ardent souls who 
 saw in this young Duke a champion of liberty and religion ? 
 Had all England known something more of the temper of 
 the King and the nature of the tools he employed, and 
 purposes yet more fully to employ, I sometimes wonder 
 whether more of our class might not have joined issue witli 
 the Duke of Monmouth, in despair of ever serving such a 
 monarch as the treacherous and unkingly James." 
 
 Sir Ralph Bridges bent his head with a look of stern- 
 ness upon his face ; and I hearing these words, marvelled at 
 the change already creeping over the minds of the gentrj^ 
 who but a short time back, in the hour of his peril, had 
 rallied so gallantly round their monarch, even though for 
 his own person they held but small love. 
 
 Surely the coward cruelty of the King and his officers 
 had done much to estrange the hearts of his subjects from 
 him. 
 
 Then, after a brief pause. Sir Ralph took up the thread 
 of the discourse. 
 
 " And so you did truly love the poor maiden, who wa.>^
 
 494 A CHRISTMAS SCENE. 
 
 said to drop down dead, or nigh to dead, at sight of Jeffreys' 
 evil face ? You would not have forbidden her union with 
 your son had things turned out differently with both ? " 
 
 " Had my son but been restored to me, he should have 
 chosen his wife when and as he would. I would have 
 never said him nay, never striven again to force my will 
 uj)on his. But indeed I sometimes think that had he 
 returned to find her dead, he would have never recovered 
 the blow. His heart has been set on her ever since their 
 childhood. I can see it now. Would to God I liad never 
 thwarted them ! The load I have to bear about with me 
 is well-nigh too heavy for me. The death of both lies 
 at my door ! I shall never see grandchildren sporting 
 at my knees, and the fair mansion in Devonshire pre- 
 pared for Vere and his bride will remain desolate and 
 empty till it passes into the hands of aliens." And Lord 
 Lonsdale's voice quivered as he spoke, and I thought that 
 there was even a glint of tear-drops in his ej^es. 
 
 At this moment Sir Ralph gave me a signal — the sig- 
 nal for which I had been anxiously waiting all through 
 that long banquet. 
 
 Without a moment's delay I crossed the floor, then 
 opened a pair of folding doors which shut off a smaller 
 apartment within ; and immediately there stepped forth, 
 in all the bravery and beauty of their wedding garments, 
 my lord the Viscount and his fair young wife, the latter so 
 changed and transfigured by the few weeks of wedded 
 happiness that I was startled by the wonderful radiancy 
 of her beauty.
 
 A CHRISTMAS SCENE. 495 
 
 At the same moment the band struck np a measure so 
 full o£ joy and triumpli that no heart could iail to beat in 
 unison with the glad strain ; and to the accompaniment of 
 this soul-stirring music the Viscount led forward his bride, 
 and kneeling with her at his father's feet, said in accents 
 which could reach only the few wlio stood nearest, — 
 
 " Father, I have come to ask your forgiveness for everj'-- 
 thing in which I have failed in filial duty towards you, 
 and also to beg your love and fatherly blessing for me and 
 for my wife." 
 
 Well, they call Lord Lonsdale a proud man, and one 
 whose feelings lie deep hidden, and perhaps they do in the 
 main. But there are moments in a man's lifetime when 
 he cannot but show of what his heart is made — when love 
 will not be hidden, but will force itself through tlie crust 
 of pride and reserve and show itself to all the world, no 
 matter who may be there to see. 
 
 The next minute Lord Lonsdale was weeping upon the 
 necks of his long-lost son and his fair young bride, wliilst 
 the guests sprang to their feet, filled their glasses, and 
 shouted as with one voice, " Long life and happiness to 
 Lord Vere and his bride ! Welcome and happiness and 
 honour to the bridal pair ! " 
 
 Yet whilst others shouted and lauglied and made the 
 hall ring with their acclamations and glad congratulations 
 and wondering questions, I tui'ned aside and Avept for joy. 
 For until this happy hour I had not known with certainty 
 that all would be well ; and now that I kncAv the best, my 
 heart so swelled with happiness and triumphant gladness
 
 496 A CHRISTMAS SCENE. 
 
 that there was nothing for it but to weep, although never 
 in all my life had I known such a moment of unalloyed 
 happiness. 
 
 But one surprise was yet in store for me, and an honour 
 that I little deserved ; for you who have read these pages 
 will know that I am no hero, albeit it has been my lot to 
 witness some stirring scenes, and to find myself sometimes 
 in perilous places. Whilst I wept in my corner I felt a 
 touch upon my arm, and there was my lord standing be- 
 fore me all shining in his white and silver ; and he took 
 me by the hand and led me forward and presented me to 
 his father and the company as the person who had saved 
 his life more than once (though how he made that out I 
 know not, my head was in such a whirl), and my lady put 
 her hand upon my shoulder and told how I had served 
 her — but that was not me, but Mistress Mary Bridges. 
 Then the guests shouted again, and drained a bumper to my 
 good health ; and when I left the hall, it was carrying in my 
 hands a small but weighty packet, which was placed there 
 by my lady, but which I was too dazed even to look at 
 then. And only when I got to my own room in the hall 
 did I find that it was a purse containing five hundred 
 golden guineas, and that I, Dicon Snowe, at the age of 
 fifteen and a half years, was made a rich man for life. 
 
 I
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 MY story is done, in so far as I set myself the task of 
 telling the tale of the ill-fated rising of the Duke 
 of Monmouth. Yet methinks it will be more complete if 
 I add but a few more words, and tell of how Will Wiseman 
 revenged himself upon that wicked Judge whose cruelty 
 and injustice wrought such misery and havoc in the pros- 
 perous and happy homes of the West. 
 
 Whilst the King was rousing hatred and anger through- 
 out his realm, which ended in his being forced to fly the 
 kingdom but four short years after the events I have re- 
 lated, I was living happily at Master Simpson's, having 
 elected to join with him in his business (though later in life 
 I became possessed of the Three Cups Inn, and left the 
 shop to my eldest son, as being a place of less temptation 
 for a youth than a house of entertainment), and being at 
 the age of eighteen betrothed to pretty Lizzie, who loved 
 me in spite of my crooked back, and has made me the best 
 and most loving of wives. 
 
 Will Wiseman remained with us, rising from apprentice 
 
 to shopman in due time ; and when the kingdom was all 
 
 in a turmoil of excitement at the reports fljnng about as to 
 
 the flight of the wicked King, and the landing of his son- 
 
 (511) 32
 
 498 EPILOGUE. 
 
 in-law, William of Orange, nothing would serve Will but 
 that he must go up to London to see and hear the news. 
 And since he had had no holiday for many years, we 
 gladly encouraged him to do so ; and thus it came about 
 that he became, through God's Providence, an instrument 
 for the punishment of that most wicked of wicked men, 
 Lord Jeffreys. 
 
 Will stayed in the house of a poor scrivener at Wap- 
 ping, and this man had the most terrible fear of the great 
 Judge, having been once brought before him, and having 
 never forgotten the gleam of those rolling eyes nor the 
 frightful aspect of those bloated features. 
 
 All London was in a ferment. The King had fled, so 
 it was said ; and rumour said also that the wicked Chan- 
 cellor, in awful terror of what might now befall him, had 
 fled likewise, and that he was about to leave the kingdom 
 in disguise, hidden away in some coaling-boat. 
 
 No one was perhaps more excited than Will by this 
 intelligence ; and when further information was brought by 
 the mate of a coaling-vessel lying in the river to the effect 
 that the Chancellor (if indeed he could be so termed seeing 
 that the King had taken over the Great Seal into his own 
 possession to destroy it) had come on board in disguise, and 
 was actually lying hidden there till sailing-time next 
 morning, Will was one of the excited and furious crowd 
 who rushed off" to the Justices of the Peace in that neigh- 
 bourhood to obtain a warrant for his arrest. 
 
 But the Justices complained that since no specific charge 
 was brought against Jeffreys, they could not grant this ;
 
 EPILOGUE. 499 
 
 and perhaps they were, in truth, still afraid of the man 
 before whom so many of them had trembled in the days 
 of his power. The people might have been baffled by this 
 rebuff had it not been for the firmness of Will, who sug- 
 gested that they should demand a warrant from the Lords 
 of the Council ; and from these dignitaries, who were still 
 sitting, they obtained a warrant to arrest him on the charge 
 of high treason, those ministers thinking it injurious to 
 the welfare of the kingdom that he should be allowed to 
 leave. 
 
 Armed with the warrant, they went on board the coal- 
 ing-boat, and searched it through and through, but found 
 no person bearing any likeness to the Chancellor. The 
 Captain baffled all their inquiries ; and it was only later 
 that they discovered that Jeffreys had indeed been there, 
 but finding the boat could not sail before morning, had 
 gone upon another vessel for the night, and thereby neai'ly 
 saved himself from his enemies and pursuers. 
 
 Nearly — but not (juite. Chance, as some would call it; 
 Providence and an outraged Maker, as we of "^raunton 
 maintain, decreed it otherwise. 
 
 Will, sorely grieved and disappointed, retired home at 
 dark and went to bed as usual ; but with the morning 
 light restlessness came upon him, and he felt inaction 
 impossible. 
 
 His host, the humble scrivener, was going about his 
 daily duties, and Will walked with him. Their way led 
 them through an unsavoury lane that was called Hope 
 Alley, and lay hard by King Edward's Stair at \\'apping.
 
 Soo EPILOGUE. 
 
 In passing down this alley they saw before them a sign 
 hanging out, representing a Red Cow, which was the name 
 of a pot-house much frequented by sailors. Will's glance 
 travelling to this gaudy sign, suddenly encountered the 
 gaze of a pair of rolling blood-shot eyes which seemed 
 suddenly and strangely familiar. The next instant he had 
 recognized, beneath the shade of a tarpaulin hat, the bloated 
 visage of the terrible Judge last seen by him in the Assize 
 Hall of Taunton. 
 
 Grasping the scrivener by the arm and whispering a few 
 hurried words to him, Will hastened away for the guard ; 
 whilst the scrivener entered the house and the room, where 
 the too reckless fugitive had adventured himself in order 
 to indulge once more his intemperate love for strong drink, 
 and found that worthy shrinking back into a corner, his 
 hat pulled far over his eyes, his face hidden as much as he 
 could hide it by a pint pot. 
 
 In a moment the house was surrounded by a hooting 
 and yelling crowd. I have heard Will describe the scene 
 a hundred times, and each time I seem to see it more 
 plainly than the last — the cowering, craven coward now 
 shivering and shrinking before men whom he had sworn 
 at, raved at, cursed and brow-beaten, more cowed and 
 terrified than the most miserable of his victims. And 
 verily that crowd would have torn him limb from limb or 
 ever the guards had come at him (for, contrary to the 
 custom of an English mob, this one was bloodthirsty and 
 furious to an extent which can better be imagined than 
 described), had it not been for the action of the train-bands,
 
 EPILOGUE. 501 
 
 who forced a way through the hooting mob and got the 
 prisoner safe into a coach, though not before his clothes 
 were torn half off his back, and he had been wounded by 
 many a flying stone, and had shrieked aloud for mercy in 
 his agony and terroi'. 
 
 That very day, after an interview with the Lord Mayor 
 and by his own desire, he was carried to the Tower, but 
 even so he barely escaped the fury of the populace ; for 
 when it was known that the coach contained this man so 
 bitterly detested and feared, there were continual and de- 
 termined attacks made upon it, and the bloated visage was 
 seen from time to time appearing first at one window and 
 then at another, whilst the miserable man clasped his hands 
 and cried aloud for the mercy he never bestowed upon 
 those who had implored it of him. 
 
 And thus he entered the Tower a miserable and de- 
 spairing captive, only a little more than three years after 
 that Bloody Assize with which his name will always be 
 associated. Four months later he perished miserably, de- 
 spised and hated by all men ; and not even left in peace to 
 die, but assailed by all sorts of malicious letters and even 
 gifts which must have made his last days a hell upon 
 earth to him. But enough of that bad man. 
 
 We of the West Country heard witli stern satisfaction 
 of his end, in the bright spring-tide and the happiness we 
 were all feeUng in the wise and just rule of our new 
 Sovereigns. And the tale of how Will Wiseman was the 
 instrument of his final capture, and thus was the means 
 of avenging the miseries his hands had inflicted upon so
 
 502 EPILOGUE. 
 
 many here, will always be a favourite one with young and 
 old in Taunton Town. 
 
 Men remembered the prognostication of Mother Whale, 
 and how she had prophesied an evil end for him, even as 
 she had prophesied the exile of the tyrant monarch. It 
 seemed, indeed, that in spite of all we had suffered, the 
 Lord had been working on the side of virtue and freedom. 
 The wicked King was disgraced and driven away; the yet 
 more wicked Judo-e had died in the Tower. 
 
 THE END.
 
 Library of Historical Tales. 
 
 Dorothy Arden. A Story of Eng- 
 land aiid France Two Hundred 
 Years Ago. By J. M. Callwell. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra. Price 4s. 
 A story of the dragonnades in France 
 in the time of Louis XIV. Also of the 
 persecutions in England under James II. , 
 the Monmouth rebellion, the Bloody 
 Assize, and the Revolution. 
 
 How they Kept the Faith. A Talc 
 of the Huguenots of Languedoc. 
 By Grace Raymond. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra. Price 4s. 
 
 "No finer, more touchingly realistic, 
 and truthfully accurate picture of the 
 Languedoc Huguenots have we 7net." — 
 Aberdeen Free Press. 
 
 The Lost Ring^. A Romance of 
 Scottish History in the Days of 
 King James and Andrew Mel- 
 ville. Crown 8vo, cloth extra. 4s. 
 " The plot of the romance is skilfully 
 constr^icted, the dialogue is admirable, 
 and the principal actors in the history 
 are portrayed with great ability." — U.P. 
 Missionary Record. 
 
 The City and the Castle. A 
 
 Story of the Reformation in 
 Switzerland. By Annik Lucas, 
 Author of " Leonie," etc. Crown 
 8vo, cloth extra. Price 4s. 
 
 Faithfully portrays the state and char- 
 acter of society at the time of the Refor- 
 mation (in Svtitzerland). 
 
 Leonie ; or, Light out of Darkness : 
 and Within Iron Walls, a Tale 
 of the Siege of Paris. Twin- 
 Stories of the Franco - German 
 War. By Annie LncAS. Crown 
 8vo, cloth extra. Price 4s. 
 
 Tv30 tales, the first connected with the 
 second. Oiic, of country life in France 
 during the war; the other, life witliia 
 the besieged capital. 
 
 Under the Southern Cross. A 
 
 Tale of the New World. By the 
 Author of "The Spanish Broth- 
 ers," etc. Crown 8vo, cl. ex. 4s. 
 
 A thrilling a)id fascinating story. 
 
 Alison Walsh. A Study of To- 
 Day. By Constance Evelyn. 
 Crown Svo, cloth extra. Price 4s. 
 
 La Rochelle ; or, The Refugees. 
 A Story of the Huguenots. By 
 Mrs. PI C. Wilson. Crown 8vo,. 
 cloth extra. Price 48. 
 
 Wenzel's Inheritance ; or, Faith- 
 ful unto Death. A Tale of Bohe- 
 mia in the Fifteenth Century. 
 By Annie Lucas. Ci-own Svo, 
 cloth extra. Price 4s. 
 
 Presents a viidd picture of the religi- 
 ous and social co7iditioH of BoJiemia in 
 the fifteenth century. 
 
 Helena's Household. A Tale of 
 Rome in the First Century. 
 With Frontispiece. Crown Svo, 
 cloth extra. Price 4s. 
 
 The Spanish Brothers. A Tale 
 of the Sixteenth Century. By 
 the Author of " The Dark Year 
 of Dundee." Crown Svo, cloth 
 extra. Price 4s. 
 
 The Czar, A Tale of the Time ot 
 the First Napoleon. By the Au- 
 thor of " The Spanish Brothers," 
 etc. Crown Svo, cloth extra. 
 Price 4s. 
 
 An interesting talc of the great Franco- 
 Rii3sian war in 1812-15 ; tlic characters 
 partly French, partly Evxsian. 
 
 Arthur Erskine's Story. A Tale 
 of the Days of Knox. By the 
 Author of "The Spanish Broth- 
 ers," etc. Crown Svo, cloth ex- 
 tra. Price 4s. 
 
 The object of the uriter of this tale is 
 to portray the life of the people in the 
 days of Knox. 
 
 Pendower. A Story of Cornwall 
 in the Reign of Henry tiie Eighth. 
 By M. Filleul. Crown Svo, 
 cloth extra. Price 4s. 
 
 A tale illustrating in fiction that stir- 
 ring period of English history previous 
 to the Reformation. 
 
 T. NELSON AND SONS, LONDON. EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK.
 
 Works of Travel and Research. 
 
 Journal of a Voyage round the 
 World of H.M.S. "Beagle." 
 By Charles Darwin, M.A., 
 F.R.S. With 16 Full-page and 
 6 Double-page Illustrations. 8vo, 
 cloth extra. Price 4s. 
 
 " The most delightful of all Mr. Dar- 
 win's works... In many respects it exhib- 
 its Darwin at his best. In folloiving him 
 we feel that not merely the intellectual but 
 the moral atmosphere in which we move 
 is high and pure." — Duke of Argyll. 
 
 The Land of Greece. Described 
 and Illustrated. By Charles 
 Hexry Hanson, Author of "The 
 Siege of Troy, and the Wander- 
 ings of Ulysses," etc. With 44 
 Illustrations. Imperial 8vo, cloth 
 extra. Price 8s. 
 
 In this handsome volume, the present 
 condition of the "historical localities" 
 and ruins of Greece is well described, 
 alotig with interesting sketches of their 
 past history. 
 
 In the Holy Land. By Rev. An- 
 drew Thomson, D.D., F.R.S.E., 
 Mmister of Broughton Place 
 Church, Edinburgh. With 18 En- 
 gravings. New Edition. Crown 
 8vo, cloth extra. Price 4s. 
 
 The aim of the author has been to record 
 such custK)ins among the people as shall 
 be found to shed new or increased lUjht 
 upon the Word of God. 
 
 Kane's Arctic Explorations : The 
 Second Grinnel Expedition in 
 Search of Sir John Franklin. 
 With a Chart and 60 Woodcuts. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth extra. 4s. 
 
 A record of heroic endurance and cour- 
 age, and of providential deliverances. 
 
 Maury's Physical Geography of 
 the Sea. With 13 Charts and 
 Diagrams. Crown 8vo, cloth 
 extra. Price 4s. 
 
 A book of scientific information in re- 
 gard to ocean depths, currents, tempera- 
 ture, winds, etc. 
 
 Wanderings in South America, 
 etc. By Charles Waterton, 
 Esq. With 16 Illustrations. Post 
 8vo, cloth extra. Price 4s. 
 
 "The first thing which strikes us in 
 this extraordinary chronicle is the genu- 
 ine zeal and inexhaustible delight with 
 which all the barbarous countries he visits 
 are described. He seems to love the forests, 
 the tigers, and the apes — to be rejoiced 
 that he is the only man there .' " — Sydne'v 
 Smith. 
 
 On the Desert. A Narrative of 
 Travel from Egypt t)i rough the 
 Wilderness of Sinai to Palestine. 
 By Henry M. Field, D.D., New 
 York. Author's Edition. With 
 16 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth extra. Price 4s. 
 
 Canon Farrar says of this work: — 
 " I found it so interesti^i-g that I coidd 
 not lay it down till I had finished it." 
 
 The Life and Voyages of Christo- 
 pher Columbus. By Washing- 
 ton Irving. Author's Revised 
 Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth ex- 
 tra. 664 pages. Price 4s. 
 
 Egypt Past and Present. De- 
 scribed and Illustrated. With a 
 Narrative of its Occupation by the 
 British, and of Recent Events 
 in the Soudan. By W. H. Daven- 
 port Adams. With 100 Illus- 
 trations, and Portrait of General 
 Gordon. Post 8vo, cl. ex. 3s. 6d. 
 In this volume are brought together the 
 principal facts in connection with the 
 history and monuments of Egypt. The 
 illustrations are from authentic so^irces. 
 
 The Mountain, By Jules Miche- 
 let. Author of " The Bird," etc. 
 With 17 Illustrations. Crown 
 8vo, cloth extra. Price 4s. 
 
 A volume of graphic word-pictures, 
 along with beautiful engravings, of the 
 most striking features of mountain scen- 
 ery, including glaciers, lakes, forests, the 
 Alpine flora, etc. 
 
 T. NELSON AND SONS, LONDON, EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK.
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Santa Barbara 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW. 
 
 i^^
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 A A 001 405 092