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 A 
 
 REPUTED CHANGELING 
 
 OR 
 
 THREE SEVENTH YEARS TWO 
 CENTURIES AGO 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLOTTE M! YONGE 
 
 /// 
 
 IN TWO VOLUiMES 
 VOL. I 
 
 ?Lont)on 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 AND NEW YORK 
 1889 
 
 All rights reserved
 
 / i \'*=^ i 'V^ 
 
 I v 
 
 VC/.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 I DO not think I have here forced the hand 
 of history except by giving Portchester to 
 two imaginary Rectors, and by a Httle in- 
 justice to her whom Princess Anne termed 
 ' the brick-bat woman.' 
 
 The trial is not according to present rules, 
 but precedents for its irregularities are to 
 be found in the doings of the seventeenth 
 century, notably in the trial of Spencer 
 Cowper by the same Judge Hatsel, and I 
 have done my best to represent the habits 
 of those country gentry who were not in- 
 fected by the evils of the later Stewart 
 reigns.
 
 vi PREFACE 
 
 There is some doubt as to the proper 
 spelling of Portchester, but, judging by 
 analogy, the t ought not to be omitted. 
 
 C. M. YONGE. 
 
 id May 1889.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Experiences of Goody Madge . . i 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 High Treason 17 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 The Fairy Ring 39 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 Imp or no Imp . . . . . . 51 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 Peregrine's Home 74 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 A Relapse 88 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 The Envoy 103
 
 viii CONTENTS 
 
 CHARTER VIII 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Return 124 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 On his Travels . . . . . .148 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 ' The Menagerie 162 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 Proposals 186 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 The One Hope 217 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 The Bonfire .245 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 Gathering Mouse-ear 256 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 News from Fareham . . . .266 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 A Royal Nursery 279 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 Machinations ....... 295 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 Hallowmas Eve 317
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE EXrERIENCES OF GOODY MADGE 
 
 ' Dear Madam, think me not to blame ; 
 Invisible the fairy came. 
 Your precious babe is hence conveyed, 
 And in its place a changeling laid. 
 Where are the father's mouth and nose, 
 The mother's eyes as black as sloes ? 
 See here, a shocking awkward creature, 
 That speaks a fool in every feature.' 
 
 Gay. 
 
 'He is an ugly, ill-favoured boy — just like 
 Riqnet a la Hoitppe! 
 
 ' That he is ! Do you not know that he 
 is a chano^elinof ? ' 
 
 Such were the words of two little girls 
 walking home from a school for young ladies 
 kept, at the Cathedral city of Winchester, by 
 two Frenchwomen of quality, refugees from 
 the persecutions preluding the Revocation of 
 the Edict of Nantes, and who enlivened the 
 
 y' ■) VOL. I B
 
 2 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 Studies of their pupils with the Contes de 
 Commere L' Oie. 
 
 The first speaker was Anne Jacobina 
 Woodford, who had recently come with her 
 mother, the widow of a brave naval officer, 
 to live with her uncle, the Prebendary then 
 in residence. The other was Lucy Archfield, 
 daughter to a knight, whose home was a 
 few miles from Portchester, Dr. Woodford's 
 parish on the southern coast of Hampshire. 
 
 In the seventeenth century, when roads 
 were mere ditches often impassable, and 
 country-houses frequently became entirely 
 isolated in the winter, it was usual with the 
 wealthier county families to move into their 
 local capital, where some owned mansions 
 and others hired prebendal houses, or went 
 into lodgings in the roomy dwellings of the 
 superior tradesmen. For the elders this was 
 the season of social intercourse, for the young 
 people, of education. 
 
 The two girls, who were about eight years 
 old, had struck u^d a rapid friendship, and 
 were walking hand in hand to the Close 
 attended by the nurse in charge of Mistress 
 Lucy. This little lady wore a black silk
 
 I THE EXPERIENCES OF GOODY MADGE 3 
 
 hood and cape, trimmed with light brown fur, 
 and lined with pink ; while Anne Woodford, 
 being still in mourning for her father, was 
 wrapped in a black cloak, unrelieved except 
 by the white border of her round cap, fringed 
 by fair curls, contrasting with her brown eyes. 
 She was taller and had a more upright bear- 
 ing of head and neck, with more promise of 
 beauty than her companion, who was much 
 more countrified and would not have been 
 taken for the child of hi^rher station. 
 
 They had traversed the graveyard of the 
 Cathedral, and were passing through a narrow 
 archway known as the Slype, between the 
 south-western anoxic of the Cathedral and a 
 heavy mass of old masonry forming part of 
 the garden wall of the present abode of the 
 Archfield family, when suddenly both children 
 stumbled and fell, while an elfish peal of 
 laughter sounded behind them. 
 
 Lucy came down uppermost, and was 
 scarcely hurt, but Anne had fallen prone, 
 striking her chin on the ground, so as to 
 make her bite her lip, and bruising knees and 
 elbows severely. Nurse detected the cause 
 of the fall so as to avoid it herself It was
 
 4 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 a cord fastened across the archway, close to 
 the ground, and another shout of derision 
 greeted the discovery ; while Lucy, regaining 
 her feet, beheld for a moment a weird exult- 
 ing grimace on a visage peeping over a neigh- 
 bouring headstone. 
 
 ' It is he ! it is he ! The wicked imp ! 
 There's no peace for him ! I say,' she 
 screamed, ' see if you don't get a sound flog- 
 ging ! ' and she clenched her little fist as the 
 provoking 'Ho! ho! ho!' rang farther and 
 farther off ' Don't cry, Anne dear ; the 
 Dean and Chapter shall take order with him, 
 and he shall be soundly beaten. Are you 
 hurt ? O nurse, her mouth is all blood.' 
 
 ' I hope she has not broken a tooth,' said 
 nurse, who had been attending to the sobbing 
 child. ' Come in, my lamb, we will wash 
 your face and make you well.' 
 
 Anne, blinded with tears, jarred, bruised, 
 bleeding, and bewildered, submitted to be 
 led by kind nurse the more willingly because 
 she knew that her mother, together with all 
 the quality, were at Sir Thomas Charnock's. 
 They had dined at the fashionable hour of 
 two, and were to stay till supper -time, the
 
 I THE EXPERIENCES OF GOODY MADGE 5 
 
 elders playing at Ombre, the juniors dancing. 
 As a rule the ordinary clergy did not associate 
 with the county families, but Dr. Woodford 
 was of good birth and a royal chaplain, and 
 his deceased brother had been a favourite 
 officer of the Duke of York, and had been so 
 severely wounded by his side in the battle of 
 Southwold as to be permanently disabled. 
 Indeed Anne Jacobina was godchild to the 
 Duke and his first Duchess, whose favoured 
 attendant her mother had been. Thus Mrs. 
 Woodford was in great request, and though 
 she had not hitherto gone into company since 
 her widowhood, she had yielded to Lady 
 Charnock's entreaty that she would come and 
 show her how to deal with that strange new 
 Chinese infusion, a costly packet of which 
 had been brought to her from town by Sir 
 Thomas, as the Oueen's favourite beveraee, 
 wherewith the ladies of the place were to be 
 regaled and astonished. 
 
 It had been already arranged that the two 
 little girls should spend the evening together, 
 and as they entered the garden before the 
 house a rude voice exclaimed, 'Holloa! 
 London Nan whimpering. Has my fine
 
 6 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 lady met a spider or a cow ?' and a big rough 
 lad of twelve, in a college gown, spread out 
 his arms, and danced up and down in the 
 doorway to bar the entrance. 
 
 * Don't, Sedley,' said a sturdy but more 
 gentlemanlike lad of the same age, thrusting 
 him aside. ' Is she hurt ? What is it ?' 
 
 'That spiteful imp, Peregrine Oakshott,' 
 said Lucy passionately. ' He had a cord 
 across the Slype to trip us up. I heard him 
 laughing like a hobgoblin, and saw him too, 
 crrinninor over a tombstone like the malicious 
 elf he is,' 
 
 The college boy uttered a horse laugh, 
 which made Lucy cry, ' Cousin Sedley, you 
 are as bad!' but the other boy was saying, 
 ' Don't cry, Anne None-so-pretty. I'll give 
 it him well! Though I'm younger, I'm 
 bigger, and I'll show him reason for not 
 meddling with my little sweetheart.' 
 
 'Have with you then!' shouted Sedley, 
 ready for a fray on whatever pretext, and 
 off they rushed, as nurse led little Anne up 
 the broad shallow steps of the dark oak 
 staircase, but Lucy stood laughing with 
 exultation in the intended vengeance, as
 
 I THE EXPERIENCES OF GOOD V MADGE 7 
 
 her brother took down her father's hunting- 
 whip. 
 
 ' He must be wellnigh a fiend to play such 
 wicked pranks under the very Minster!' she 
 said. 
 
 ' And a rascal of a Whig, and that's worse,' 
 added Charles ; ' but I'll have it out of him !' 
 
 * Take care, Charley ; if you offend him, 
 and he does really belong to those — those 
 creatures' — Lucy lowered her voice — 'who 
 knows what they might do to you ?' 
 
 Charles laughed long and loud. ' I'll take 
 care of that,' he said, swinging out at the 
 door. ' Elf or no elf, he shall learn what it 
 is to play off his tricks on viy sister and my 
 little sweetheart.' 
 
 Lucy betook herself to the nursery, where 
 Anne was being comforted, her bleeding lip 
 washed with essence, and repaired with a 
 pinch of beaver from a hat, and her other 
 bruises healed with lily leaves steeped in 
 strong waters. 
 
 'Charley is gone to serve him out!' an- 
 nounced Lucy as the sovereign remedy. 
 
 ' Oh, but perhaps he did not mean it,' 
 Anne tried to say.
 
 8 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 ' Mean it ? Small question of that, the 
 cankered young slip ! Nurse, do you think 
 those he belongs to can do Charley any harm 
 if he angers them ?' 
 
 * I cannot say, missie. Only 'tis well we 
 be not at home, or there might be elf knots 
 in the horses' manes to-niofht. I doubt me 
 whether that so7^i can do much hurt here, 
 seeing as 'tis holy ground.' 
 
 ' But is he really a changeling ? I thought 
 there were no such things as ' 
 
 ' Hist, hist, Missie Anne !' cried the dame; 
 ' 'tis not good to name them.' 
 
 ' Oh, but we are on the Minster ground, 
 nurse,' said Lucy, trembling a little however, 
 looking over her shoulder, and coming closer 
 to the old servant, 
 
 'Why do they think so?' asked Anne. 
 ' Is it because he is so ugly and mischievous 
 and rude } Not like boys in London.' 
 
 ' Prithee, nurse, tell her the tale,' entreated 
 Lucy, who had made large eyes over it many 
 a time before. 
 
 ' Ay, and who should tell you all about it 
 save me, who had it all from Goody Madge 
 Bulpett, as saw it all V
 
 I THE EXPERIENCES OF GOODY MADGE 9 
 
 'Goody Madge! It was she that came 
 when poor little Kitty was born and died,' 
 suggested Lucy, as Anne, laying her aching 
 head upon nurse's knees, prepared to listen 
 to the story. 
 
 ' Well, deary darlings, you see poor Madam 
 Oakshott never had her health since the 
 Great Fire in London, when she was biding 
 with her kinsfolk to be near Major Oakshott, 
 who had q-ot into trouble about some of his 
 nonconforming doings. The poor lady had 
 a mortal friq-ht before she could be qot out of 
 Gracechurch Street as was all of a blaze, and 
 she was so afeard of her husband being burnt 
 as he lay in Newgate that she could scarce 
 be got away, and whether it was that, or that 
 she caught cold lying out in a tent on High- 
 gate Hill, she has never had a day's health 
 since.' 
 
 'And the gentleman — her husband.'*' asked 
 Anne. 
 
 ' They all broke prison, poor fellows, as 
 they had need to do, and the Major's time 
 was nearly up. He made himself busy in 
 saving and helping the folk in the streets ; 
 and his brother, Sir Peregrine, who was thick
 
 lo A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 with the King, and is in foreign parts now, 
 took the chance to speak of the poor lady's 
 plight and say it would be the death of her if 
 he could not get his discharge, and his Ma- 
 jesty, bless his kind heart, gave the order at 
 once. So they took madam home to the 
 Chace, but she has been but an ailing body 
 ever since.' 
 
 * But the fairy, the fairy, how did she 
 change the babe ?' cried Anne. 
 
 ' Hush, hush, dearie ! name them not. I 
 am coming to it all in good time. I was tell- 
 ing you how the poor lady failed and pined 
 from that hour, and was like to die. My 
 gossip Madge told me how when, next Mid- 
 summer, this unlucky babe was born they 
 had to take him from her chamber at once 
 because any sound of crying made her start 
 in her sleep, and shriek that she heard a poor 
 child wailing who had been left in a burning 
 house. Moll Owens, the hind's wife, a 
 comely lass, was to nurse him, and they had 
 him at once to her in the nursery, where was 
 the elder child, two years old. Master Oliver, 
 as you know well, Mistress Lucy, a fine- 
 grown, sturdy little Turk as ever was.'
 
 I THE EXPERIENCES OF GOOD V MADGE 1 1 
 
 'Yes, I know him,' answered Lucy; 'and 
 if his brother's a changeHng, he is a bear! 
 The Whig bear is what Charley calls him.' 
 
 'Well, what does that child do but trot 
 out of the nursery, and try to scramble down 
 the stairs. — Never tell me but that they you 
 wot of trained him out — not that they had 
 power over a Christian child, but that they 
 might work their will on the little one. So 
 they must needs trip him up, so that he 
 rolled down the stair hollering and squalling 
 all the way enough to bring the house down, 
 and his poor lady mother, she woke up in a 
 fit. The womenfolk ran, Molly and all, she 
 being but a slip of a girl herself and giddy- 
 pated, and when they came back after quiet- 
 ing Master Oliver, the babe was changed.' 
 
 ' Then they didn't see the ' 
 
 'Hush, hush, missie ! no one never sees 
 'em or they couldn't do nothing. They can- 
 not, if a body is looking. But what had 
 been as likely a child before as you would 
 wish to handle was gone ! The poor little 
 mouth was all of a twist, and his eyelid 
 drooped, and he never ceased mourn, mourn, 
 mourn, wail, wail, wail, day and night, and
 
 12 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 whatever food he took he never was satisfied, 
 but pined and peaked and dwined from day 
 to day, so as his little legs was like knitting 
 pins. The lady was nigh upon death as it 
 seemed, so that no one took note of the child 
 at first, but when Madge had time to look at 
 him, she saw how it was, as plain as plain 
 could be, and told his father. But men are 
 unbelieving, my dears, and always think they 
 know better than them as has the best right, 
 and Major Oakshott would hear of no such 
 thing, only if the boy was like to die, he 
 must be christened. Well, Madge knew that 
 sometimes they fiee at touch of holy water, 
 but no ; though the thing mourned and 
 moaned enough to curdle your blood and 
 screeched out when the water touched him, 
 there he was the same puny little canker. 
 So when madam was better, and began to 
 fret over the child that was nigh upon three 
 months old, and no bigger than a newborn 
 babe, Madge up and told her how it was, and 
 the way to get her own again.' 
 
 ' What was that, nurse }' 
 
 ' There be different ways, my dear. 
 Madge always held to breaking five and
 
 I THE EXPERIENCES OF GOODY MADGE 13 
 
 twenty eggs and have a pot boiling on a good 
 sea-coal fire with the poker in it red hot, and 
 then drop the shells in one by one, in sight 
 of the creature in the cradle. Presently it 
 will up and ask whatever you are about. 
 Then you gets the poker in your hand as 
 you says, " A-brewing of ^g^ shells." Then 
 it says, " I'm forty hunderd years old and 
 odd, and yet I never heard of a-brewing of 
 ^<g^ shells." Then you ups with the poker 
 and at him to thrust it down his ugly throat, 
 and there's a hissing and a whirling, and he 
 is snatched away, and the real darling, all 
 plump and rosy, is put back in the cradle.' 
 
 'And did they .^' 
 
 ' No, my dears. Madam was that soft- 
 hearted she could not brines her mind to it, 
 though they promised her not to touch him 
 unless he spoke. But nigh on two years 
 later, Master Robert was born, as fine and 
 lusty and straight -limbed as a chrisom could 
 be, while the other could not walk a step, but 
 sat himself about on the floor, a-moaning and 
 a-fretting with the legs of him for all the 
 world like the drumsticks of a fowl, and his 
 hands like claws, and his face wizened up
 
 14 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 like an old gaffer of a hunderd, or the jacka- 
 napes that Martin Boats'n brought from 
 Barbary. So after a while madam saw the 
 rights of it, and gave consent that means 
 should be taken as Madge and other wise 
 folk would have it ; but he was too old by 
 that time for the egg shells, for he could talk, 
 talk, and ask questions enough to drive you 
 wild. So they took him out under the privet 
 hedge, Madge and her gossip Deborah Clint, 
 and had got his clothes off to flog him with 
 nettles till they changed him, when the ill- 
 favoured elf began to squall and shriek like a 
 whole litter of pigs, and as ill luck would 
 have it, the master was within hearing, 
 though they had watched him safe off to one 
 of his own 'venticles, but it seems there had 
 been warning that the justices were on the 
 look-out, so home he came. And behold, the 
 thing that never knew the use of his feet 
 before, ups and flies at him, and lays hold of 
 his leg, hollering out, " Sir, father, don't let 
 them," and what not. So then it was all 
 over with them, as though that were not 
 proof enow what manner of thing it was ! 
 Madge tried to put him off with washing with
 
 I THE EXPERIENCES OF GOODY MADGE 15 
 
 yarbs being good for the limbs, but when he 
 saw that Deb was there, he saith, saith he, 
 as grim as may be, " Thou shalt not suffer a 
 witch to Hve," which was hard, for she is but 
 a white witch ; and he stormed and raved at 
 them with Bible texts, and then he vowed 
 (men are so headstrong, my dears) that if 
 ever he ketched them at it again, he would 
 see Deb burnt for a witch at the stake, and 
 Madge hung for the murder of the child, and 
 he is well known to be a man of his word. 
 So they had to leave him to abide by his 
 bargain, and a sore handful he has of it.' 
 
 Anne drew a long sigh and asked whether 
 the real boy in fairyland would never come 
 back. 
 
 ' There's no telling, missie dear. Some 
 say they are bound there for ever and a day, 
 some that they as holds 'em are bound to 
 bring them back for a night once in seven 
 years, and in the old times if they was 
 sprinkled with holy water, and crossed, they 
 would stay, but there's no such thing as holy 
 water now, save among the Papists, and if 
 one knew the way to cross oneself, it would 
 be as much as one's life was worth.'
 
 i6 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap, i 
 
 ' If Peregrine was to die,' suggested Lucy. 
 
 ' Bless your heart, dearie, he'll never die ! 
 When the true one's time comes, you'll see, 
 if so be you be alive to see it, as Heaven 
 grant, he will go off like the flame of a candle 
 and nothing be left in his place but a bit of a 
 withered sting nettle. But come, my sweet- 
 ings, 'tis time I got your supper. Til put 
 some nice rosy-cheeked apples down to roast, 
 to be soft for Mistress Woodford's sore mouth.' 
 
 Before the apples were roasted, Charles 
 Archfield and his cousin, the colleger Sedley 
 Archfield, a big boy in a black cloth gown, 
 came in with news of having — toQfether 
 with the other boys, including Oliver and 
 Robert Oakshott — hunted Peregrine all round 
 the Close, but he ran like a lapwing, and 
 when they had pinned him up in the corner 
 by Dr. Ken's house, he slipped through their 
 fingers up the ivy, and grinned at them over 
 the wall like the imp he was. Noll said it 
 was always the way, he was no more to be 
 caught than a bit of thistledown, but Sedley 
 meant to call out all the college boys and 
 hunt and bait him down like a badger on 
 ' Hills.'
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 HIGH TREASON 
 
 ' Whate'er it be that is within his reach, 
 The filching- trick he doth his fingers teach.' 
 
 Robin Badfellaw. 
 
 There was often a considerable distance 
 between children and their parents In the 
 seventeenth century, but Anne Woodford, as 
 the only child of her widowed mother, was 
 as solace, comfort, and companion ; and 
 on her pillow in early morning the child 
 poured forth in grave earnest the entire story 
 of the changeling, asking whether he could 
 not be ' taken to good Dr. Ken, or the Dean, 
 
 or the Bishop to be ex — ex what is it, 
 
 mother ? Not whipped with nettles. Oh 
 no ! nor burnt with red-hot pokers, but have 
 holy words said so that the right one may 
 come back.' 
 
 VOL. I c
 
 1 8 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 ' My dear child, did you really believe that 
 old nurse's tale ? ' 
 
 ' O madam, she knew it. The other old 
 woman saw it ! I always thought fairies and 
 elves were only in tales, but Lucy's nurse 
 knows it is true. And he is not a bit like 
 other lads, mamma dear. He is lean and 
 small, and his eyes are of different colours, 
 look two ways at once, and his mouth goes 
 awry when he speaks, and he laughs just 
 like — like a fiend. Lucy and I call him 
 Riqiiet ct la Hoiippe, because he is just like 
 the picture in Mademoiselle's book, with a 
 great stubbly bunch of hair sticking out on 
 one side, and though he walks a little lame, 
 he can hop and skip like a grasshopper, faster 
 than any of the boys, and leap up a wall in 
 a moment, and grin — oh most frightfully. 
 Have you ever seen him, mamma } ' 
 
 ' I think so. I saw a poor boy, who 
 seemed to me to have had a stroke of some 
 sort when he was an infant.' 
 
 ' But, madam, that would not make him 
 so spiteful and malicious ! ' 
 
 ' If every one is against him and treats 
 him as a wicked mischievous elf, it is only
 
 II HIGH TREASON 19 
 
 too likely to make him bitter and spiteful. 
 Nay, Anne, if you come back stuffed with 
 old wives' tales, I shall not allow you to go 
 home with Lucy Archfield.' 
 
 The threat silenced Anne, who was a grave 
 and rather silent little person, and when she 
 mentioned it to her friend, the answer was, 
 'Did you tell your mother? If I had told 
 mine, I should have been whipped for repeat- 
 ing lying tales.* 
 
 ' Oh then you don't believe it !' 
 * It must be true, for Madge knew it. 
 But that's the way always if one lets out that 
 one knows more than they think.' 
 
 ' It is not the way with my mother,' stoutly 
 said Anne, drawing up her dignified little 
 head. And she kept her resolution, for 
 though a little excited by her first taste of 
 lively youthful companionship, she was 
 naturally a thoughtful reticent child, with a 
 character advanced by companionship with 
 her mother as an only child, through a great 
 sorrow. Thus she was in every respect more 
 developed than her contemporary Lucy, who 
 regarded her with wonder as well as affection, 
 and she was the object of the boyish devotion
 
 20 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 of Charley, who often defended her from his 
 cousin Sedley's endeavours to put down what 
 he considered upstart airs in a httle nobody 
 from London. Sedley teased and baited 
 every weak thing in his way, and Lucy had 
 been his chief butt till Anne Woodford's 
 unconscious dignity and more cultivated 
 manners excited his utmost spleen. 
 
 Lucy might be incredulous, but she was 
 eager to tell that when her cousin Sedley 
 Archfield was going back to ' chambers,' down 
 from the Close gate came the imp on his 
 shoulders in the twilight and twisted both 
 legs round his neck, holding tight on in spite 
 of plunges, pinches, and endeavours to scrape 
 him off against the wall, which were frustrated 
 or retaliated by hair pulling, choking, till just 
 ere entering the college gateway, where 
 Sedley looked to get his revenge among his 
 fellow^s, he found his shoulders free, and heard 
 ' Ho ! ho! ho!' from the top of a wall close 
 at hand. All the more was the young people's 
 faith in the changeling story confirmed, and 
 child-world was in those clays even more 
 impenetrable to their elders than at present. 
 
 Changeling or no, it was certain that
 
 II HIGH TREASON 21 
 
 Peregrine Oakshott was the plague of the 
 Close, where his father, an ex-officer of the 
 Parliamentary army, had unwillingly hired a 
 house for the winter, for the sake of medical 
 treatment for his wife, a sufferer from a com- 
 plication of ailments. Oakwood, his home, 
 was about five miles from Dr. Woodford's 
 living of Portchester, and as the families 
 would thus be country neighbours, ]\Irs. 
 Woodford thouoht it well to be^in the 
 acquaintance at Winchester. While knocking 
 at the door of the house on the opposite side 
 of the Close, she was aware of an elfish visage 
 peering from an upper window. There was 
 the queer mop of dark hair, the squinting 
 light eyes, the contorted grin crooking the 
 mouth, the odd sallow face, making her quite 
 glad to get out of sight of the strange grimaces 
 which grew every moment more hideous. 
 
 Mrs. Oakshott sat in an arm-chair beside 
 a large fire in a wainscotted room, with a 
 folding-screen shutting off the window. Her 
 spinning-wheel was near, but it was only too 
 plain that ' feeble was the hand, and silly the 
 thread.' She bent her head in its wadded 
 black velvet hood, but excused herself from
 
 22 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 rising, as she was crippled by rheumatic 
 pains. She had evidently once been a pretty 
 little person, innocent and inane, and her face 
 had become like that of a withered baby, 
 piteous in its expression of pain and weariness, 
 but otherwise somewhat vacant. At first, 
 indeed, there was a look of alarm. Perhaps 
 she expected every visitor to come with a 
 complaint of her unlucky Peregrine, but when 
 Mrs. Woodford spoke cheerfully of being her 
 neighbour in the country, she was evidently 
 relieved and even gratified, prattling in a soft 
 plaintive tone about her sufferings and the 
 various remedies, ranging from woodlice 
 rolled into natural pills, and grease off the 
 church bells, to diamond dust and Goa stones, 
 since, as she said, there was no cost to which 
 Major Oakshott would not go for her benefit. 
 He had even procured for her a pound of the 
 Queen's new Chinese herb, and it certainly 
 was as nauseous as could be wished, when 
 boiled in milk, but she was told that was 
 not the way it was taken at my Lady Char- 
 nock's. She was quite animated when Mrs. 
 Woodford offered to show her how to pre- 
 pare it.
 
 II HIGH TREASON 23 
 
 Therewith the master of the house came 
 in, and the aspect of affairs changed. He 
 was a tall, dark, grave man, plainly though 
 handsomely dressed, and in a gentlemanly 
 way making it evident that visits to his wife 
 were not welcome. He said that her health 
 never permitted her to go abroad, and that 
 his poor house contained nothing that could 
 please a Court lady. Mrs. Oakshott shrank 
 into herself, and became shy and silent, and 
 Mrs. Woodford felt constrained to take leave, 
 courteously conducted to the door by her 
 unwilling host. 
 
 She had not taken many steps before she 
 was startled by a sharp shower from a squirt 
 coming sidelong like a blow on her cheek and 
 surprising her into a low cry, which was heard 
 by the Major, so that he hastened out, ex- 
 claiming, ' Madam, I trust that you are not 
 hurt.' 
 
 'Oh no, sir! It is nothing — not a stone 
 — only water!' she said, wiping it with her 
 handkerchief. 
 
 ' I am grieved and ashamed at the evil 
 pranks of my unhappy son, but he shall suffer 
 for it.'
 
 24 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 'Nay, sir, I pray you. It was only 
 childish mischief.' 
 
 He had not waited to hear her pleadings, 
 and before she was half across the Close he 
 had overtaken her, dragging the cowering 
 struggling boy in his powerful grasp. 
 
 'Now, Peregrine,' he commanded, 'let 
 me instantly hear you ask the lady's pardon 
 
 for your dastardly trick. Or !' and his 
 
 other hand was raised for a blow. 
 ■ ' I am sure he is sorry,' said Mrs. Wood- 
 ford, making a motion to ward off the stroke, 
 and as the queer eyes glanced up at her in 
 wondering inquiry, she laid her hand on the 
 bony shoulder, saying, ' I know you did not 
 mean to hurt me. You are sorry, are you 
 not .'' ' 
 
 ' Ay,' the boy muttered, and she saw a 
 look of surprise on his father's face. 
 
 'There,' she said, 'he has made his 
 amends, and surely that may suffice.' 
 
 ' Nay, madam, it would be a weak and 
 ungodly tenderness that would spare to drive 
 forth the evil spirit which possesses the child 
 by the use of the rod. I should fail in my 
 duty alike to God and man,' he added, in
 
 II HIGH TREASON 2$ 
 
 reply to a fresh gesture of intercession, ' did 
 I not teach him what it is to insult a lady at 
 mine own door.' 
 
 Mrs. Woodford could only go away, 
 heartily sorry for the boy. From that time, 
 however, both she and her litde daughter 
 were untouched by his tricks, though every 
 one else had some complaint. Peas were 
 shot from unknown recesses at venerable 
 canons, mice darted out before shrieking 
 ladies, frogs' clammy forms descended on the 
 nape of their necks, hedgehogs were curled 
 up on their chairs, and though Peregrine 
 Oakshott was not often caught in the act, no 
 mischief ever took place that was not attri- 
 buted to him ; and it was popularly believed 
 in the Close that his father flogged him 
 every morning for what he was about to do, 
 and his tutor repeated the castigation every 
 eveninof for what he had done, besides inter- 
 ludes at each detection. 
 
 Perhaps frequent usage had toughened 
 his skin, or he had become expert in 
 wriggling from the full force of the blow, or 
 else, as many believed, the elfish nature was 
 impervious ; for he was as ready as ever for
 
 26 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 a trick the moment he was released, Hke, as 
 his brother said, the dog Keeper, who, with 
 a slauorhtered chick hunor round his neck in 
 penance, rushed murderously upon the rest 
 of the brood. 
 
 Yet Mrs. Woodford, on her way through 
 the Cathedral nave, was aware of something 
 leaning against one of the great columns, 
 crouching together so that the dark head, 
 supported on the arms, rested against the 
 pillar which fluted the pier. The organ was 
 pealing softly and plaintively, and the little 
 gray coat seemed to heave as with a sob. 
 She stood, impelled to offer to take him with 
 her into the choir, but a verger, spying him, 
 began rating him in a tone fit for expelling a 
 dog, ' Come, master, none of your pranks 
 here ! Be not you ashamed of yourself to be 
 lying in wait for godly folk on their way to 
 prayers ? If I catch you here again the 
 Dean shall hear of it, and you shall smart 
 for it.' 
 
 Mrs. Woodford began, ' He was only 
 hearkening to the music,' but she caught 
 such a look of malignity cast upon the verger 
 as perfectly appalled her, and in another
 
 II HIGH TREASON 27 
 
 moment the boy had dashed, head over 
 heels, out at the nearest door. 
 
 The next report that reached her related 
 how a cloud of lime had suddenly descended 
 from a broken arch of the cloister on the 
 solemn verger, on his way to escort the 
 Dean to the Minster, powdering his wig, 
 whitening his black gown from collar to hem, 
 and not a little endangering his eyesight. 
 
 The culprit eluded all pursuit on this 
 occasion ; but Mrs. Woodford soon after was 
 told that the Major had caught Peregrine 
 listening at the little south door of the choir, 
 had collared him, and flogged him worse 
 than ever, for being seduced by the sounds 
 of the popish and idolatrous worship, and 
 had told all his sons that the like chastise- 
 ment awaited them if they presumed to cross 
 the threshold of the steeple house. 
 
 Nevertheless the Senior Prefect of the 
 college boys, when about to come out of the 
 Cathedral on Sunday morning, found his 
 gown pinned with a skewer so fast to the 
 seat that he was only set free at the expense 
 of a rent. Public opinion decided that the 
 deed had been done by the imp of Oakshott,
 
 28 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 and accordingly the whole of the Wykeham 
 scholars set on him with hue and cry the first 
 time they saw him outside the Close, and 
 hunted him as far as St. Cross, where he 
 suddenly and utterly vanished from their 
 sight. 
 
 Mrs. Woodford agreed with Anne that it 
 was a very strange story. For how could 
 he have been in the Cathedral at service time 
 when it was well known that Major Oakshott 
 had all his family together at his own form 
 of worship in his house ? Anne, who had 
 been In hopes that her mother would be thus 
 convinced of his supernatural powers, looked 
 disappointed ; but she had afterwards to con- 
 fess that Charles Archfield had found out 
 that it was his cousin Sedley Archfield who 
 had played the audacious trick, in revenge 
 for a well-merited tunding from the Prefect. 
 
 ' And then saddled it on young Oakshott ?' 
 asked her mother. 
 
 ' Charley says one such matter more or 
 less makes no odds to the Whig ape ; but I 
 cannot endure Sedley Archfield, mamma.' 
 
 ' If he lets another lad bear the blame of 
 his malice he cannot indeed be a good lad.'
 
 II HIGH TREASON 29 
 
 ' So Charley and Lucy say,' returned Anne. 
 ' We shall be glad to be away from Winchester, 
 for while Peregrine Oakshott torments slyly, 
 Sedley Archfield loves to frighten us openly, 
 and to hurt us to see how much we can bear, 
 and if Charley tries to stand up for us, Sedley 
 calls him a puny wench and a milksop, and 
 knocks him down. But, dear madam, pray 
 do not tell what I have said to her ladyship, 
 for there is no knowing what Sedley would 
 do to us.' 
 
 ' My little maid has not known before 
 what boys can be ! ' 
 
 ' No ; but indeed Charles Archfield is quite 
 different ; almost as if he had been bred in 
 London. He is a very gentleman. He 
 never is rude to any girl, and he is courteous 
 and gentle and kind. He gathered walnuts 
 for us yesterday, and cracked all mine, and 1 
 am to make him a purse with two of the shells.' 
 
 Mrs. Woodford smiled, but there was a 
 short thrill of anxiety in her motherly heart 
 as her glance brought up a deeper colour into 
 Anne's cheeks. There was a reserve to bring 
 that oflow, for the child knew that if she durst 
 say that Charles called her his little sweetheart
 
 30 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 and wife, and that the walnut -shell purse 
 would be kept as a token, she should be 
 laughed at as a silly child, perhaps forbidden 
 to make it, or else her uncle might hear and 
 make a joke of it. It was not exactly disin- 
 genuousness, but rather the first dawn of 
 maidenly reserve and modesty that reddened 
 her cheek in a manner her mother did not 
 fail to observe. 
 
 Yet it was with more amusement than 
 misgiving, for children played at courtship 
 like other games in mimicry of being grown 
 up, and a baronet's only son was in point of 
 fact almost as much out of the reach of a sea- 
 captain's daughter and clergyman's niece as 
 a prince of the blood royal ; and Master 
 Archfield would probably be contracted long 
 before he could choose for himself, for his 
 family were not likely to take into account 
 that if Captain Woodford had not been too 
 severely wounded to come forward after the 
 battle of Southwold Bay he would have been 
 knighted. On the strength of which Anne, 
 as her companions sometimes said, gave 
 herself in consequence more airs than Mistress 
 Lucy ever did.
 
 II HIGH TREASON 31 
 
 Sedley, a poor cousin, a destitute Cavalier's 
 orphan, who had been placed on the founda- 
 tion at Winchester College in hopes that he 
 might be provided for in the Church, would 
 have been far more on her level ; and indeed 
 Lady Archfield, a notable matchmaker, had 
 already hinted how suitable such a thing 
 would be. However, the present school 
 character of Master Sedley, as well as her 
 own observations, by no means inclined Mrs. 
 Woodford towards the boy, large-limbed and 
 comely -faced, but with a bullying, scowling 
 air that did not augur well for his wife or his 
 parish. 
 
 Whether it were this lad's threats, or, more 
 likely, the fact that all the Close was on the 
 alert. Peregrine's exploits were less frequent 
 there, and began to extend to the outskirts 
 of the city. There were some fine yew-trees 
 on the southern borders, towards the chalk 
 down, with massive dark foliage upon stout 
 ruddy branches, among which Peregrine, 
 armed with a fishing-rod, line, and hook, sat 
 perched, angling for what might be caught 
 from unconscious passengers along a path 
 which led beneath.
 
 32 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 From a market-woman's basket he ab- 
 stracted thus a fowl! His 'Ho! ho! ho!' 
 startled her into looking up, and seeing it 
 apparently resuscitated, and hovering aloft. 
 Full of dismay, she hurried shrieking away 
 to tell the story of the bewitched chick at the 
 market-cross among her gossips. 
 
 His next capture was a chop from a 
 butcher boy's tray, but this involved more 
 peril, for with a fierce oath that he would be 
 revenged on the Whiggish imp, the lad 
 darted at the tree ; in vain, however, for 
 Peregrine had dropped down on the other 
 side, and crept unseen to another bush, where 
 he \^Y perdu, under the thick green branches, 
 rod and all, while the youth, swearing and 
 growling, was shaking his former refuge. 
 
 As soon as the coast was clear he went 
 back to his post, and presently was aware of 
 three gentlemen advancing over the down, 
 pointing, measuring, and surveying. One 
 was small and slight, as simply dressed as a 
 gentleman of the period could be ; another 
 was clad in a gay coat with a good deal of 
 fluttering ribbon and rich lace ; the third, a 
 tall, well-made man, had a plain walking suit,
 
 II HIGH TREASON 33 
 
 surmounted by a flowing periwig and plumed 
 beaver. Cominsf close beneath Peregrine's 
 tree, and standing with their backs to it, they 
 eagerly conversed. ' Such a cascade will 
 drown the honours of the Versailles foun- 
 tains, if only the water can be raised to such 
 a height. Are you sure of it, Wren ?' 
 
 ' As certain as hydraulics can make me, 
 sir ;' and the lesser man began drawing lines 
 with his stick in the dust of the path in 
 demonstration. 
 
 The opportunity was irresistible, and the 
 hook from above deftly caught the band of 
 the feathered hat of the taller man, slowly 
 and steadily drawing it up, entirely unper- 
 ceived by the owner, on whose wig it had 
 rested, and who was bending over the dust- 
 traced diagram in absorbed attention. Pere- 
 grine deferred his hobgoblin laughter, for 
 success emboldened him farther. Detaching 
 the hat from his hook, and depositing it safely 
 in a fork of the tree, he next cautiously let 
 down his line, and contrived to get a strong 
 hold of one of the black locks on the top of 
 the wig, just as the wearer was observing, 
 ' Oliver's Battery, eh ? A cupola with a light 
 
 VOL. I D
 
 34 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 to be seen out at sea ? Our sailors will make 
 another St. Christopher of you ! Ha! what's 
 this ? ' 
 
 For feeling as if a branch were touching 
 the structure on his head, he had stepped 
 forward, thus favouring Peregrine's man- 
 oeuvres so that the wigf dangfled in the air, 
 suddenly disclosing the bare skull of a very 
 dark man, with such marked features that it 
 needed not the gentleman's outcry to show 
 the boy who was the victim of his mischief. 
 
 'What imp is there .^' cried the King, 
 spying up into the tree, while his attendant 
 drew his sword, ' How now ? ' as Peregrine 
 half climbed, half tumbled down, bringing hat 
 and wig with him, and, whether by design or 
 accident, fell at his feet. ' Will nothing con- 
 tent you but royal game ? ' he continued 
 laughing, as Sir Christopher Wren helped him 
 to resume his wig. ' Why, what a shrimp it 
 is ! a mere goblin sprite ! What's thy name, 
 master wag }' 
 
 ' Peregrine Oakshott, so please you,' the 
 boy answered, raising himself with a face 
 scared indeed, but retaining its queer impish- 
 ness. ' Sir, I never guessed '
 
 II HIGH TREASON 35 
 
 ' Young rogue ! have you our licence to 
 waylay our loyal subjects ? ' demanded the 
 King, with an affected fierceness. ' Know 
 you not 'tis rank treason to discrown our 
 sacred Majesty, far more to dishevel or de- 
 stroy our locks ? Why ! I might behead you 
 on the spot.' 
 
 To his great amazement the boy, with an 
 eager face and clasped hands, exclaimed, ' O 
 sir! Oh, please your Majesty, do so.' 
 
 'Do so!' exclaimed the King astounded. 
 ' Didst hear what I said ?' 
 
 * Yes, sir ! You said it was a beheading 
 matter, and I'm willing, sir.' 
 
 ' Of all the petitions that ever were made 
 to me, this is the strangest!' exclaimed 
 Charles. * An urchin like this weary of life ! 
 What next? So,' with a wink to his com- 
 panions, ' Peregrine Oakshott, we condemn 
 thee for high treason against our most sacred 
 Majesty's beaver and periwig, and sentence 
 thee to die by having thine head severed 
 from thy body. Kneel down, open thy collar, 
 bare thy neck. Ay, so, lay thy neck across 
 that bough. Killigrew, do thy duty.' 
 
 To the general surprise, the boy complied
 
 36 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 with all these directions, never flinching nor 
 showing sign of fear, except that his lips were 
 set and his cheek whitened. As he knelt, 
 with closed eyes, the flat cold blade descended 
 on his neck, the tension relaxed, and he sank ! 
 
 * Hold !' cried the King. ' It is gone too 
 far! He has surely not carried out the jest 
 by dying on our hands.' 
 
 ' No, no, sir,' said Wren, after a moment's 
 alarm, 'he has only swooned. Has any one 
 here a flask of wine to revive him ? ' 
 
 Several gentlemen had come up, and as 
 Peregrine stirred, some wine was held to his 
 lips, and he presently asked in a faint voice, 
 ' Is this fairyland T 
 
 ' Not yet, my lad,' said Charles, ' whatever 
 it may be when Wren's work is done.' 
 
 The boy opened his eyes, and as he beheld 
 the same face, and the too familiar sky and 
 trees, he sighed heavily, and said, ' Then it is 
 all the same ! O sir, would you but have cut 
 off my head in good earnest, I might be at 
 home again ! ' 
 
 ' Home ! what means the elf .^' 
 
 'An elf! That is what they say I am — 
 changed in the cradle,' said Peregrine, incited
 
 II 
 
 HIGH TREASON 37 
 
 to confidence by the good-natured eyes, ' and 
 I thought if I were close on death mine own 
 people might take me home, and bring back 
 the right one.' 
 
 ' He really believes it !' exclaimed Charles 
 much diverted. ' Tell me, good Master Elf, 
 who is thy father, I mean not my brother 
 Oberon, but him of the right one, as thou 
 say St.' 
 
 'Mr. Robert Oakshott of Oakwood, sir,' 
 said Peregrine. 
 
 'A sturdy squire of the country party,' 
 said the KinQf- ' I am much minded to secure 
 the lad for an elfin page,' he added aside to 
 Killiofrew. ' There's a fund of excellent 
 humour and drollery in those queer eyes of 
 his ! So, Sir Hobgoblin, if you are proof 
 against cold steel, I know not what is to be 
 done with you. Get you back, and devise 
 some other mode of finding your way home to 
 fairyland.' 
 
 Peregrine said not a word of his adventure, 
 so that the surprise of his family was the 
 greater when overtures were made throucrh 
 Sir Christopher Wren for his appointment as 
 a royal page.
 
 38 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap, ii 
 
 ' I would as soon send my son at once to 
 be a page to Beelzebub,' returned Major 
 Oakshott. 
 
 And though Sir Christopher did not return 
 the answer exactly in those terms, he would 
 not say that the Puritan Major did not judge 
 rightly.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE FAIRY RING 
 
 ' She's turned her right and round about, 
 
 And thrice she blew on a grass-green horn, 
 
 And she sware by the moon and the stars above 
 
 That she'd gar me rue the day I was born.' 
 
 Old Ballad of Alison Cross. 
 
 Dr. Woodford's parish was Portchester, 
 where stood the fine old royal castle at 
 present ungarrisoned, and partly dismantled 
 in the recent troubles, on a chalk peninsula, 
 a spur from Portsdown, projecting above the 
 alluvial flats, and even into the harbour, 
 whose waves at high tide laved the walls. 
 The church and churchyard were within the 
 ample circuit of the fortifications, about two 
 furlongs distant from the main building, where 
 rose the mighty Norman keep, above the 
 inner court, with a gate tower at this date,
 
 40 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 only inhabited by an old soldier as porter with 
 his family, A massive square tower at each 
 angle of the huge wall likewise defied decay. 
 
 It was on Midsummer eve, that nearly 
 about sundown, Dr. Woodford was summoned 
 by the severe illness of the gatekeeper's old 
 father, and his sister-in-law went with him to 
 attempt what her skill could accomplish for 
 the old man's relief. 
 
 They were detained there till the sun had 
 long set, though the air, saturated with his 
 redness, was full of soft twilight, while the 
 moon, scarcely past the full, was just high 
 enough to silver the quiet sea, and throw the 
 shadow of the battlements and towers on the 
 sward whitened with dew. 
 
 After the close atmosphere of the sickroom 
 the freshness was welcome, and Mrs. Wood- 
 ford, once a friend of Katherine Phillips, ' the 
 Matchless Orinda,' had an eye and a soul to 
 appreciate the beauty, and she even murmured 
 the lines of // Penseroso as she leant on the 
 arm of her brother-in-law, who, in his turn, 
 thouci-ht of Homer. 
 
 Suddenly, as they stood in the shadow, 
 they were aware of a small, slight, fantastic
 
 Ill THE FAIRY RING 41 
 
 figure in the midst of the grass-grown court, 
 where there was a large green mushroom 
 circle or fairy ring. On the borders of this 
 ring it paused with an air of disappointment. 
 Then entering it stood still, took off the hat, 
 whose lopsided appearance had given so 
 stranpfe an outline, and bowed four times in 
 opposite directions, when, as the face was 
 turned towards the spectators, invisible in the 
 dark shadow, the lady recognised Peregrine 
 Oakshott. She pressed the Doctor's arm, 
 and they both stood still watching the boy 
 bathing his hand in the dew, and washing his 
 face with it, then kneeling on one knee, and 
 clasping his hands, as he cried aloud in a 
 piteous chant — 
 
 ' Fairy mother, fairy mother ! Oh, come, 
 come and take me home ! My very life is 
 sore to me. They all hate me ! My brothers 
 and the servants, every one of them. And 
 my father and tutor say I am possessed with 
 an evil spirit, and I am beaten daily, and 
 more than daily. I can never, never get a 
 eood word from livinfj soul ! This is the 
 second seven years, and Midsummer night! 
 Oh, bring the other back again ! I'm weary,
 
 42 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 I'm weary ! Good elves, good elves, take me 
 home. Fairy mother ! Come, come, come ! ' 
 Shutting his eyes he seemed to be in a state of 
 intense expectation. Tears filled Mrs, Wood- 
 ford's eyes. The Doctor moved forward, 
 but no sooner did the boy become conscious 
 of human presence than he started up, and 
 fled wildly towards a postern door, but no 
 sooner had he disappeared in the shadow 
 than there was a cry and a fall. 
 
 * Poor child ! ' exclaimed Dr. Woodford, 
 * he has fallen down the steps to the vault. It 
 is a dangerous pitfall.' 
 
 They both hurried to the place, and found 
 the boy lying on the steps leading down to 
 the vault, but motionless, and when they 
 succeeded in lifting him up, he was quite un- 
 conscious, having evidently struck his head 
 against the mouth of the vault. 
 
 ' We must carry him home between us,' 
 said Mrs. Woodford. ' That will be better 
 than rousing Miles Gateward, and making a 
 coil.' 
 
 Dr. Woodford, however, took the entire 
 weight, which he declared to be very slight. 
 ' No one would think the poor child fourteen
 
 Ill THE FAIRY RING 43 
 
 years old,' he observed, 'yet did he not speak 
 of a second seven ? ' 
 
 ' True,' said Mrs. Woodford, ' he was born 
 after the Great Fire of London, which, as I 
 have good cause to know, was in the year 
 '66.' 
 
 There was still little sign of revival about 
 the boy when he had been carried into the 
 Parsonage, undressed and laid in the Doctor's 
 own bed, only a few moans when he was 
 handled, and on his thin, sharp features there 
 was a piteous look of sadness entirely unlike 
 his ordinary expression of malignant fun, and 
 which went to the kind hearts of the Doctor 
 and Mrs. Woodford. After exhausting their 
 own remedies, as soon as the early daylight 
 was available Dr. Woodford called up a 
 couple of servants, and sent one into Ports- 
 mouth for a surgeon, and another to Oakwood 
 to the parents. 
 
 The doctor was the first to arrive, though 
 not till the mornincj was well advanced. He 
 found that three ribs were broken against the 
 edge of the stone step, and the head severely 
 injured, and having had sufficient experience in 
 the navy to be a reasonably safe practitioner.
 
 44 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 he did nothing worse than bleed the patient, 
 and declared that absolute rest was the only 
 hope of recovery. 
 
 He was being regaled with cold roast pig 
 and ale when Major Oakshott rode up to the 
 door. Four horses were dragging the great 
 lumbering coach over Portsdown hill, but he 
 had gone on before, to thank Dr. and Mrs. 
 Woodford for their care of his unfortunate 
 son, and to make preparations for his trans- 
 port home under the care of his wife's own 
 woman, who was coming in the coach in the 
 stead of the invalid lady. 
 
 ' Nay, sir. Master Brent here has a word 
 to say to that matter,' replied the Doctor. 
 
 'Truly, sir, I have,' said the surgeon; 'in 
 his present state it is as much as your son's 
 life is worth to move him.' 
 
 ' Be that as it may seem to man, he is in 
 the hand of Heaven, and he ought to be at 
 home, whether for life or death.' 
 
 ' For death it will assuredly be, sir, if he 
 be jolted and shaken along the Portsdown 
 roads — yea, I question whether you would 
 get him to Oakvvood alive,' said Brent, with 
 naval roufjhness.
 
 in THE FAIRY RING ' 45 
 
 ' Indeed, sir,' added Mrs. Woodford, * Mrs. 
 Oakshott may be assured of my giving him 
 as tender care as though he were mine own 
 son.' 
 
 ' I am beholden to you, madam,' said the 
 Major ; ' I know your kindliness of heart ; but 
 in good sooth, the unhappy and rebellious lad 
 merits chastisement rather than pity, since 
 what should he be doing at this distance 
 from home, where he was shut up for his 
 misdemeanours, save fleeing like the Prodigal 
 of the parable, or else planning another of his 
 malicious pranks, as I greatly fear, on you or 
 your daughter, madam. If so, he hath fallen 
 into the pit that he made for others.' 
 
 The impulse was to tell what had occurred, 
 but the surgeon's presence, and the dread of 
 making all worse for the poor boy checked 
 both the hosts, and Mrs, Woodford only 
 declared that since the day of the apology 
 he had never molested her or her little 
 o^irl. 
 
 ' Still,' said the Major, * it is not possible 
 to leave him in a stranger's house, where at 
 any moment the evil spirit that is in him may 
 break forth,'
 
 46 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 ' Come and see him, and judge,' said Dr. 
 Woodford. 
 
 When the father beheld the deathly face 
 and motionless form, stern as he was, he was 
 greatly shocked. His heavy tread caused a 
 moan, and when he said, ' What, Perry, how 
 now?' there was a painful shrinking and 
 twitching, which the surgeon greeted as 
 evidence of returning animation, but which 
 made him almost drag the Major out of the 
 room for fear of immediate consequences. 
 
 Major Oakshott, and still more the servant, 
 who had arrived in the coach and come up- 
 stairs, could not but be convinced that removal 
 was not to be thought of. The maid was, 
 moreover, too necessary to her mistress to be 
 left to undertake the nursing, much to her 
 master's regret, but to the joy of Mrs. Wood- 
 ford, who felt certain that by far the best 
 chance for the poor boy was in his entire 
 separation from all associations with the 
 home where he had evidently suffered so 
 much. 
 
 There was, perhaps, nothing except the 
 pageship at Court that could have gone more 
 against Major Oakshott's principles than to
 
 Ill THE FAIRY RING 47 
 
 leave his son in the house of a prelatical 
 minister, but alternative there was none, 
 and he could only express how much he 
 was beholden to the Dr. and Mrs. Wood- 
 ford. 
 
 All their desire was that he would remain 
 at a distance, for during the long and weary 
 watch they had to keep over the half- con- 
 scious lad, the sound of a voice or even a 
 horse's tread from Oakwood occasioned moans 
 and restlessness. The Major rode over, or 
 sent his sons or a servant daily to inquire 
 during the first fortnight, except on the 
 Sundays, and on each of these the patient 
 made a step towards improvement. 
 
 At first he lay in a dull, deathlike stupor, 
 only groaning if disturbed, but by and by 
 there was a babbling murmur of words, and 
 soon the sound of his brother's loud voice at 
 the door, demanding from the saddle how it 
 went to-day with Peregrine, caused a shriek 
 of terror and such a fit of trembling that Mrs. 
 Woodford had to go out and make a personal 
 request that Oliver would never again speak 
 under the window. To her great relief, 
 when the balance between life and death had
 
 48 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 decidedly turned, the inquiries became less 
 frequent, and could often be forestalled by- 
 sending messengers to Oakwood. 
 
 The boy usually lay still all day in the 
 darkened room, only showing pain at light 
 or noise, but at night he often talked and 
 rambled a good deal. Sometimes it was 
 Greek or Latin, sometimes whole chapters 
 of Scripture, either denunciating portions or 
 genealogies from the First Book of Chronicles, 
 the polysyllabic names pouring from his 
 mouth whenever he was particularly oppressed 
 or suffering, so that when Mrs. Woodford 
 had with some difficulty made out what they 
 were, she concluded that they had been set 
 as tasks of penance. 
 
 At other times Peregrine talked as if 
 he absolutely believed himself in fairyland, 
 accepting a strawberry or cherry as elfin food, 
 promising a tester in Anne's shoe when she 
 helped to change his pillow, or conversing in 
 the style of Puck, or Robin Goodfellow, on 
 intended pranks. Often he fancied himself 
 the lubber fiend restinof at the fire his hairv 
 strength, and watching for cock-crow as the 
 signal for flinging out-of-doors. It was won-
 
 HI THE FAIRY RING 49 
 
 derful how in the <^r'w\-\ and strict Puritanical 
 household he could have imbibed so much 
 fairy lore, but he must have eagerly assimilated 
 and recollected whatever he heard, holdincr 
 them as tidings from his true kith and kin ; 
 and, indeed, when he was running on thus, 
 Mrs. Woodford sometimes felt a certain awe 
 and chill, as of the preternatural, and could 
 hardly believe that he belonged to ordinary 
 human nature. Either she or the Doctor 
 always took the night-watch after the talking 
 mood set in, for they could not judge of the 
 effect it might have on any of the servants. 
 Indeed they sometimes doubted whether this 
 were not the beginning of permanent insanity, 
 as the delusion seemed to strencrthen with 
 symptoms of recovery. 
 
 ' Then,' said Dr. Woodford, ' Heaven help 
 the poor lad ! ' 
 
 For sad indeed was the lot in those days 
 of even the most harmless lunatic. 
 
 ' Yet,' said the lady, ' I scarcely think any- 
 thing can be worse than what he undergoes 
 at home. When I hear the terror and misery 
 of his voice, I doubt whether we did him anv 
 true kindness by hindering his father from 
 
 VOL. I E
 
 50 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap, hi 
 
 killing him outright by the shaking of his old 
 coach.' 
 
 ' Nay, sister, we strove to do our duty, 
 though it may be we have taken on ourselves 
 a further charge.'
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 IMP OR NO IMP 
 
 ' But wist I of a woman bold 
 
 Who thrice my brow durst sign, 
 I might regain my mortal mould, 
 As fair a form as thine.' 
 
 Scott. 
 
 At last came a wakening with intelligence in 
 the eyes. In the summer morning light that 
 streamed through the chinks of the shutters 
 Mrs. Woodford perceived the glance of 
 inquiry, and when she brought some cool 
 drink, a rational though feeble voice asked 
 those first questions, ' Who ? and where ?' 
 
 ' I am Mrs. W^oodford, my dear child. 
 You remember me at Winchester. You are 
 at Portchester. You fell down and hurt your- 
 self, but you are getting better.' 
 
 She was grieved to see the look of utter
 
 52 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 disappointment and weariness that over- 
 spread the features, and the boy hardly 
 spoke again all day. There was much 
 drowsiness, but also depression, and more 
 than once Mrs. Woodford detected tears, but 
 at other times he received her attentions with 
 smiles and looks of wondering gratitude, as 
 though ordinary kindness and solicitude were 
 so new to him that he did not know what 
 to make of them, and perhaps was afraid 
 of breaking a happy dream by saying too 
 much. 
 
 The surgeon saw him, and declared him 
 so much better that he might soon be taken 
 home, recommending his sitting up for a little 
 while as a first stage. Peregrine, however, 
 seemed far from being cheered, and showed 
 himself so unwilling to undergo the fatigue 
 of being dressed, even when good Dr. Wood- 
 ford had brought up his own large chair — 
 the only approach to an easy one in the 
 house — that the proposal was dropped, and 
 he was left in peace for the rest of the day. 
 
 In the evening Mrs. Woodford was sitting 
 by the window, letting her needlework drop 
 as the light faded, and just beginning to doze.
 
 IV IMP OR NO IMP 53 
 
 when her repose was broken by a voice say- 
 ing, ' Madam.' 
 
 * Yes, Peregrine.' 
 
 ' Come near, I pray. Will you tell no 
 one '■ ' 
 
 ' No ; what is it ?' 
 
 In so low a tone that she had to bend 
 over him : ' Do you know how the Papists 
 cross themselves ?' 
 
 * Yes, I have seen the Queen's confessor 
 and some of the ladies make the sign.' 
 
 ' Dear lady, you have been very good to 
 me! If you would only cross mc thrice, and 
 not be afraid ! They could not hurt you !' 
 
 ' Who ? What do you mean ?' she asked, 
 for fairy lore had not become a popular study, 
 but comprehension came when he said in an 
 awe-stricken voice, 'You know what I am.' 
 
 ' I know there have been old wives' tales 
 about you, my poor boy, but surely you do 
 not believe them yourself 
 
 ' Ah ! if you will not believe them, there 
 is no hope. I might have known. You 
 were so good to me ;' and he hid his face. 
 
 She took his unwilling hand and said, ' Be 
 you what you will, my poor child, I am sorry
 
 54 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 for you, for I see you are very unhappy. 
 Come, tell me all.' 
 
 ' Nay, then you would be like the rest,' 
 said Peregrine, 'and I could not bear that,' 
 and he wruno- her hand. 
 
 'Perhaps not,' she said gently, 'for I 
 know that a story is afloat that you were 
 changed in your cradle, and that there are 
 folk ignorant enough to believe it.' 
 
 'They all know it,' he said impressively. 
 ' My mother and brothers and all the ser- 
 vants. Every soul knows it except my father 
 and Mr. Horncastle, and they will never 
 hear a word, but will have it that I am pos- 
 sessed with a spirit of evil that is to be 
 flogged out of me. Goody Madge and Moll 
 Owens, they knew how it was at the first, 
 and would fain have forced them — mine own 
 people — to take me home, and bring the 
 other back, but my father found it out and 
 hindered them.' 
 
 ' To save your life.' 
 
 ' Much good does my life do me ! Every 
 one hates or fears me. No one has a word 
 for me. Every mischance is laid on me. 
 When the kitchen wench broke a crock, it
 
 IV IMP OR NO IMP 55 
 
 was because I looked at it. If the keeper 
 misses a deer, he swears at Master Perry ! 
 Oliver and Robert will not let me touch a 
 thing of theirs ; they bait me for a moon- 
 calf, and grin when I am beaten for their 
 doings. Even my mother quakes and 
 trembles when I come near, and thinks I 
 give her the creeps. As to my father and 
 tutor, it is ever the rod with them, though I 
 can learn my tasks far better than those 
 jolter-heads Noll and Robin. I never heard 
 so many kind words in all my life as you 
 have given me since I have been lying 
 here !' 
 
 He stopped in a sort of awe, for tears 
 fell from her eyes, and she kissed his fore- 
 head. 
 
 'Will you not help me, good madam ?' he 
 entreated. ' I went down to Goody Madge, 
 and she said there was a chance for me every 
 seven years. The first went by, but this is 
 my fourteenth year. I had a hope when the 
 King spoke of beheading me, but he was 
 only in jest, as I might have known. Then 
 methought I would try what Midsummer 
 night in the fairy ring would do, but that was
 
 56 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 in vain ; and now you, who could cross me if 
 you would, will not believe. Oh, will you 
 not make the trial ?' 
 
 ' Alas ! Peregrine, supposing I could do it 
 in good faith, would you become a mere 
 tricksy sprite, a thing of the elements, and 
 yield up your hopes as a Christian soul, a 
 child of God and heir of Heaven ?' 
 
 ' My father says I am an heir of hell.' 
 
 ' No, no, never,' she cried, shuddering at 
 his quiet way of saying it. ' You are flesh 
 and blood, christened, and with the hope set 
 before you.' 
 
 ' The christening came too late,' he said. 
 * O lady, you who are so good and pitiful, let 
 my mother get back her true Peregrine — a 
 straight-limbed, comely dullard, such as would 
 be welcome to her. She would bless and 
 thank you, and for me, to be a Will-of-the- 
 wisp, or what not, would be far better than 
 the life I lead. Never did I know what my 
 mother calls peace till I lay here.' 
 
 ' Ah, Peregrine, poor lad, your value for 
 peace and for my poor kindness proves that 
 you have a human heart and are no elf.' 
 
 ' Indeed, I meant to flit about and give
 
 IV IMP OR NO IMP 57 
 
 you good dreams, and keep off all that could 
 hurt or frighten you,' he said earnestly. 
 
 ' Only the human soul could feel so, dear 
 boy,' she answered tenderly. 
 
 ' And you really disbelieve — the other,' he 
 said wistfully. 
 
 ' This is what I verily believe, my child : 
 that there were causes to make you weakly, 
 and that you may have had some palsy stroke 
 or convulsive fit perhaps at the moment you 
 were left alone. Such would explain much 
 of your oddness of face, which made the 
 ignorant nurses deem you changed ; and thus 
 it was only your father who, by God's mercy, 
 saved you from a miserable death, to become, 
 as I trust, a good and true man, and servant 
 of God.' Then answering a hopeless groan, 
 she added, ' Yes, it is harder for you than for 
 many. I see that these silly servants have 
 so nurtured you in this belief that you have 
 never even thought it worth while to strive 
 for goodness, but supposed tricksomeness and 
 waywardness a part of your nature.' 
 
 ' The only pleasure in life is paying folk 
 off,' said Peregrine, with a glitter in his eye. 
 ' It serves them right.'
 
 58 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 'And thus,' she said sadly, 'you have 
 gone on hating and spiting, deeming your- 
 self a goblin without hope or aim ; but 
 now you feel that you have a Christian 
 soul you will strive with evil, you will so 
 love as to win love, you will pray and 
 conquer.' 
 
 ' My father and Mr. Horncastle pray,' said 
 Peregrine bitterly. ' I hate it ! They go 
 on for ever, past all bearing ; I vi2t.st do some- 
 thing — stand on my head, pluck some one's 
 stool away, or tickle Robin with a straw, if I 
 am birched the next moment. That's the 
 goblin.' 
 
 ' Yet you love the Minster music' 
 
 ' Ay ! Father calls it rank Popery. I 
 listened many a time he never guessed, hid 
 away in the Holy Hole, or within old Bishop 
 Wykeham's little house,' 
 
 ' Ah, Peregrine, could an imp of evil brook 
 to He hidden in the Holy Hole behind the 
 very altar?' said Mrs. Woodford. 'But I 
 hear Nick bringing in supper, and I must 
 leave you for the present. God in His mercy 
 bless you, His poor child, and lead you in 
 His ways.'
 
 IV IMP OR NO IMP 59 
 
 As she went Peregrine muttered, ' Is that 
 a prayer ? It is not like father's.' 
 
 She was anxious to consult her brother-in- 
 law on the strange mood of her patient. She 
 found that he had heard more than he had 
 told her of what Major Oakshott deemed the 
 hopeless wickedness of his son, the antics at 
 prayers, the hatred of everything good, the 
 spiteful tricks that were the family torment. 
 No doubt much was due to the boy's entire 
 belief in his own elfship, and these two good 
 people seriously considered how to save him 
 from himself 
 
 'If we could only keep him here,' said 
 Mrs. Woodford, * I think we might bring him 
 to have some faith and love in God and man.' 
 
 'You could, dear sister,' said the Doctor, 
 smiling affectionately ; * but Major Oakshott 
 would never leave his son in our house. He 
 abhors our principles too much, and besides, 
 it is too near home. All the servants have 
 heard rumours of this cruel fable, and would 
 ascribe the least misadventure to his Q^oblin 
 origin. I must ride over to Oakwood and 
 endeavour to induce his father to remove him 
 to safe and judicious keeping.'
 
 6o A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 Some days, however, elapsed before Dr. 
 Woodford could do this, and in the meantime 
 the good lady did her best to infuse into her 
 poor young guest the sense that he had a 
 human soul, responsible for his actions, and 
 with hope set before him, and that he was 
 not a mere frolicsome and malicious sprite, 
 the creature of unreasoning impulse. 
 
 It was a matter only to be attempted by 
 gentle hints, for though reared in a strictly 
 religious household. Peregrine's ears seemed 
 to have been absolutely closed, partly by 
 nursery ideas of his own exclusion from the 
 pale of humanity, partly by the harsh treat- 
 ment that he was continually bringing on 
 himself. Preachings and prayers to him only 
 meant a time of intolerable restraint, usually 
 ending in disgrace and punishment ; Scripture 
 and the Westminster Catechism contained a 
 collection of tasks more tedious and irksome 
 than the Latin and Greek Grammar ; Sunday 
 was his worst day of the week, and these 
 repugnances, as he had been taught to believe, 
 were so many proofs that he was a being 
 beyond the power of grace. 
 
 Mrs. Woodford scrupled to leave him to
 
 IV IMP OR NO IMP 6i 
 
 any one else on this first Sunday of his 
 recovered consciousness, and in hopes of 
 keeping him quiet through fatigue, she con- 
 trived that it should be the first day of his 
 being dressed, and seated in the arm-chair, 
 resting against cushions beside the open win- 
 dow, whence he could watch the church-goers, 
 Anne in her little white cap, with her book 
 in one hand, and a posy in the other, tripping 
 demurely beside her uncle, stately in gown, 
 cassock, and scarlet hood. 
 
 Peregrine could not refrain from boasting 
 to his hostess how he had once ofrimaced 
 from outside the church window at Havant, 
 and at the women shriekinof that the fiend 
 was there. She would not smile, and shook 
 her head sadly, so that he said, ' I would 
 never do so here.' 
 
 ' Nor anywhere, I hope.' 
 
 Whereupon, thinking better to please the 
 churchwoman, he related how, when im- 
 prisoned for popping a toad into the soup, 
 he had escaped over the leads, and had 
 beaten a drum outside the barn, durinsf a 
 discourse of the godly tinker, John Bunyan, 
 tramping and rattling so that all thought the
 
 62 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 troopers were come, and rushed out, tumbling 
 one over the other, while he yelled out his 
 'Ho! ho! ho!' from the haystack where he 
 had hidden. 
 
 ' When you feel how kind and loving God 
 is,' said Mrs. Woodford gravely, 'you will 
 not like to disturb those who are doing Him 
 honour.' 
 
 'Is He kind?' asked Peregrine. 'I 
 thought He was all wrath and anger.' 
 
 She replied, ' The Lord is loving unto 
 every man, and His mercy is over all His 
 works.' 
 
 He made no answer. If he were sullen, 
 this subsided into sleepiness, and when he 
 awoke he found the lady on her knees going 
 through the service with her Prayer-book. 
 She encountered his wistful eyes, but no 
 remark was made, though on her return from 
 fetching him some broth, she found him 
 peeping into her book, which he laid down 
 hastily, as though afraid of detection. 
 
 She had to go down to the Sunday dinner, 
 where, according to good old custom, half a 
 dozen of the poor and aged were regaled 
 with the parish priest and his household.
 
 IV IMP OR NO IMP 63 
 
 There she heard inquiries and remarks 
 showing how widely spread and deeply rooted 
 was the notion of Peregrine's elfish extraction. 
 If Daddy Hoskins did ask after the poor 
 young gentleman as if he were a human 
 being, the three old dames present shook 
 their heads, and while the more bashful only 
 groaned, Granny Perkins demanded, ' Well, 
 now, my lady, do he eat and sleep like other 
 folk ? ' 
 
 * Exactly, granny, now that he's mending 
 in health.' 
 
 ' And don't he turn and writhe when there's 
 prayers ?' 
 
 Mrs. Woodford deposed to having observed 
 no such demonstrations. 
 
 ' Think of that now ! Lauk-a-daisy ! I 've 
 heard tell by my nevvy Davy, as is turnspit 
 at Oak'ood, as how when there's prayers and 
 expounding by Master Horncastle, as is a 
 godly man, saving his Reverence's presence, 
 he have seen him, have Davy — Master Perry, 
 as they calls him, a-twisted round with his 
 heels on the chair, and his head where his 
 heels should be, and a orrin on his face enough 
 to give one a turn.'
 
 64 A REPUTED CHANGELING cuAr. 
 
 ' Did Davy never see a mischievous boy 
 fidgeting at prayers ? ' asked the Doctor, who 
 was nearer than she thought, ' If so, he has 
 been luckier than I have been.' 
 
 There was a laugh, out of deference to the 
 clergyman, but the old woman held to her 
 point. ' Begging your Reverence's pardon, 
 sir, there be more in this than we knows. 
 They says up at Oakwood, there's no peace 
 in the place for the spite of him, and when 
 they thinks he is safe locked into his chamber, 
 there he be a-clogging of the spit, or changing 
 sugar into pepper, or making the stool break 
 down under one. Oh, he be a strange one, 
 sir, or summat worse. I have heerd him 
 myself hollaing " Ho ! ho! ho!" on the downs 
 enough to make one's flesh creep.' 
 
 ' I will tell you what he is, dame,' said the 
 Doctor gravely. ' He is a poor child who had 
 a fit in his cradle, and whom all around have 
 joined in driving to folly, evil, and despair 
 through your foolish superstitions. He is 
 my guest, and I will have no more said 
 against him at my table.' 
 
 The village gossips might be silenced by 
 awe of the parson, but their opinion was
 
 IV 
 
 IMP OR NO IMP 65 
 
 unshaken ; and Silas Hewlett, a weather- 
 beaten sailor with a wooden leg, was bold 
 enough to answer, ' Ay, ay, sir, you parsons 
 and gentlefolk don't believe naught ; but 
 you've not seen what I have with my own 
 
 two bodily eyes ' and this of course was 
 
 the prelude to the history of an encounter 
 with a mermaid, which alternated with the 
 Flying Dutchman and a combat with the 
 Moors, as regular entertainment at the Sunday 
 meal. 
 
 When Mrs. Woodford went upstairs she 
 was met by the servant Nicolas, declaring 
 that she might get whom she would to wait 
 on that there moon-calf, he would not go 
 neist the spiteful thing, and exhibiting a 
 swollen finger, stung by a dead wasp, which 
 Peregrine had cunningly disposed on the 
 edge of his empty plate. 
 
 She soothed the man's wrath, and healed 
 his wound as best she might, ere returning 
 to her patient, who looked at her with an 
 impish grin on his lips, and yet human depre- 
 cation in his eyes. Feeling unprepared for 
 discussion, she merely asked whether the 
 dinner had been relished, and sat down to her 
 
 VOL. I F
 
 66 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 book ; but there was a grave, sorrowful 
 expression on her countenance, and, after an 
 interval of lying- back uneasily in his chair, he 
 exclaimed, 'It is of no use ; I could not help 
 it. It is my nature.' 
 
 ' It is the nature of many lads to be mis- 
 chievous,' she answered ; ' but grace can cure 
 them.' 
 
 Therewith she began to read aloud. She 
 had bought the Pilgrims Progress (the first 
 part) from a hawker, and she was glad to 
 have at hand something that could hardly be 
 condemned as frivolous or prelatical. The 
 spell of the marvellous book fell on Peregrine ; 
 he listened intently, and craved ever to hear 
 more, not being yet able to read without pain 
 and dizziness. He was struck by hearing 
 that the dream of Christian's adventures had 
 visited that same tinker, whose congregation 
 his own wicked practices had broken up. 
 
 ' He would take me for one of the hob- 
 goblins that beset Master Christian.' 
 
 * Nay,' said Mrs. Woodford, 'he would say 
 you were Christian floundering in the Slough 
 of Despond, and deeming yourself one of its 
 efts or tadpoles.'
 
 IV IMP OR NO IMP 67 
 
 He made no answer, but on the whole 
 behaved so well that the next day Mrs. Wood- 
 ford ventured to brini^ her little daughter in 
 after having extracted a promise that there 
 should be no tricks nor teasing, a pledge 
 honourably kept. 
 
 Anne did not like the prospect of the inter- 
 view. ' Oh, ma'am, don't leave me alone 
 with him!' she said, 'Do you know what 
 he did to Mistress Martha Browning, his own 
 cousin, you know, who lives at Emsworth 
 with her aunt ^ He put a horsehair slily 
 round her glass of wine, and tipped it over 
 her best gray taffeta, and her aunt whipped 
 her for the stain. She never would say it 
 was his doing, and yet he goes on teasing 
 her the same as ever, though his brother 
 Oliver found it out, and thrashed him for 
 it ; you know Oliver is to marry Mistress 
 Martha.' 
 
 ' My dear child, where did you hear all 
 this.^' asked Mrs. Woodford, rather over- 
 whelmed with this flood of gossip from her 
 usually quiet daughter. 
 
 ' Lucy told me, mamma. She heard it 
 from Sedley, who says he does not wonder at
 
 68 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 any one serving out Martha Browning, for 
 she is as ugly as sin.' 
 
 ' Hush, hush, Anne ! Such sayings do 
 not become a young maid. This poor lad 
 has scarce known kindness. Every one's 
 hand has been against him, and so his hand 
 has been against every one. I want my little 
 daughter to be brave enough not to pain and 
 anger him by shrinking from him as if he 
 were not like other people. We must teach 
 him to be happy before we can teach him to 
 be good.' 
 
 ' Madam, I will try,' said the child, with a 
 great gulp ; ' only if you would be pleased 
 not to leave me alone with him the first time !' 
 
 This Mrs. Woodford promised. At first 
 the boy lay and looked at Anne as if she were 
 a rare curiosity brought for his examination, 
 and it took all her resolution, even to a heroic 
 exertion of childish fortitude, not to fiinch 
 under the gaze of those queer eyes. How- 
 ever, Mrs. Woodford diverted the glances by 
 producing a box of spillekins, and in the 
 interest of the game the children became 
 better acquainted. 
 
 Over their next day's game Mrs. Wood-
 
 IV IMP OR NO IMP 69 
 
 ford left them, and Anne became at ease 
 since Peregrine never attempted any tricks. 
 She taught him to play at draughts, the 
 elders thinking it expedient not to doubt 
 whether such vanities were permissible at 
 Oakwood. 
 
 Soon there was such merriment between 
 them that the kind Doctor said it did his 
 heart good to hear the boy's hearty natural 
 laugh in lieu of the ' Ho ! ho ! ho !' of malice 
 or derision. 
 
 They were odd conversations that used to 
 take place between that boy and girl. The 
 King's offer of a pageship had oozed out in 
 the Oakshott family, and Peregrine greatly 
 resented the refusal, which he naturally 
 attributed to his father's Whiggery and spite 
 at all things agreeable, and he was fond of 
 discussing his wrongs and longings with 
 Anne, who, from her childish point of view, 
 thought the walls of Portchester and the 
 sluggish creek a very bad exchange for her 
 enjoyments at Greenwich, where she had 
 lived during her father's years of broken 
 health, after he had been disabled at South- 
 wold by a wound which had prevented his
 
 70 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 being knighted by the Duke of York for his 
 darinof in the excitement of the critical 
 moment, a fact which Mistress Anne never 
 forgot, though she only knew it by hearsay, 
 as it happened a few weeks after she was 
 born, and her father always averred that he 
 was thankful to have missed the barren and 
 expensive honour, and that the worst which 
 had come of his exploit was the royal sponsor- 
 ship to his little maid. 
 
 Anne had, however, been the pet of her 
 father's old friends, the sea captains, had 
 played with the little Evelyns under the yew 
 hedges of Says Court, had been taken to 
 London to behold the Lord Mayor's show 
 and more than one Court pageant, had been 
 sometimes at the palaces as the plaything of 
 the Ladies Mary and Anne of York, had 
 been more than once kissed by their father, 
 the Duke, and called a pretty little poppet, 
 and had even shared with them a notable 
 game at romps with their good-natured uncle 
 the King, when she had actually caught him 
 at Blind-man's-buff! 
 
 Ignorant as she was of evil, her old sur- 
 roundings appeared to her delightful, and
 
 IV IMP OR NO IMP 71 
 
 Peregrine, bred in a Puritan home, was at four- 
 teen not much more advanced than she was in 
 the meaning of the vices and corruptions that 
 he heard inveio^hed against in oreneral or 
 scriptural terms at home, and was only too 
 ready to believe that all that his father pro- 
 scribed must be enchanting. Thus they built 
 castles together about brilliant lives at a 
 Court of which they knew as little as of that 
 at Timbuctoo. 
 
 There was another Court, however, of 
 which ^ Peregrine seemed to know all the 
 details, namely, that of King Oberon and 
 Oueen INIab. How much was villao^e lore 
 picked up from Moll Owens and her kind, or 
 how much was the work of his own imamna- 
 tion, no one could tell, probably not himself, 
 certainly not Anne. When he appeared on 
 intimate terms with Hip, Nip, and Skip, and 
 described catching Daddy Long Legs to 
 make a fence with his legs, or dwelt upon a 
 terrible fight between two armies of elves 
 mounted on grasshoppers and crickets, and 
 armed with lances tipped with stings of bees 
 and wasps, she would exclaim, 'Is it true. 
 Perry?' and he would wink his green eye
 
 72 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 and look at her with his yellow one till she 
 hardly knew where she was. 
 
 He would tell of his putting a hornet in a 
 sluttish maid's shoe, which was credible, if 
 scarcely meriting that elfish laughter which 
 made his auditor shrink, but when he told of 
 dancing over the mud banks with a lantern, 
 like a Will-of-the-wisp, till he lured boats to 
 get stranded, or horsemen to get stuck, in 
 the hopeless mud, Anne never questioned 
 the possibility, but listened with wide open 
 eyes, and a restrained shudder, feeling as if 
 under a spell. That mysterious childish feel- 
 inof which dreads even what common sense 
 forbids the calmer mind to believe, made her 
 credit Peregrine, for the time at least, with 
 strange affinities to the underground folk, 
 and kept her under a strange fascination, half 
 attraction, half repulsion, which made her feel 
 as if she must obey and follow him if he 
 turned those eyes on her, whether she were 
 willing or not. 
 
 Nor did she ever tell her mother of these 
 conversations. She had been rebuked once 
 for repeating nurse's story of the changeling, 
 and again for her shrinking from him ; and
 
 IV IMP OR NO IMP 73 
 
 this was quite enough in an essentially 
 reserved, as well as proud and sensitive, 
 nature, to prevent further confidences on a 
 subject which she knew would be treated as 
 a foolish fancy, bringing both herself and her 
 companion into trouble.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 peregrine's home 
 
 ' For, at a word, be it understood, 
 He was always for ill and never for good.' 
 
 Scott. 
 
 A WEEK had passed since any of the family 
 from Oakwood had come to make inquiries 
 after the convalescent at Portchester, when 
 Dr. Woodford mounted his sleek, sober-paced 
 pad, and accompanied by a groom, rode over 
 to make his report and tender his counsel to 
 Major Oakshott. He arrived just as the great 
 bell was clanging to summon the family to 
 the mid-day meal, since he had reckoned on 
 the Squire being more amenable as a ' full 
 man,' especially towards a guest, and he was 
 well aware that the Major was thoroughly a 
 gentleman in behaviour even to those with 
 whom he differed in politics and religion.
 
 CHAP. V PEREGRINE'S HOME 75 
 
 Accordingly there was a ready welcome at 
 the door of the old red house, which was 
 somewhat gloomy looking, being on the north 
 side of the hill, and a good deal stifled with 
 trees. In a brief interval the Doctor found 
 himself seated beside the pale languid lady 
 at the head of the long table, placed in a 
 large hall, wainscotted with the blackest of 
 oak, which seemed to absorb into itself all the 
 light from the windows, large enough indeed 
 but heavily mullioned, and with almost as 
 much of leading as of octagons and lozenges 
 — greenish glass — in them, while the coats of 
 arms, repeated in upper portions and at the 
 intersections of beams and rafters, were not 
 more cheerful, being sable chevrons on an 
 ardent field. The crest, a horse shoe, was 
 indeed azure, but the blue of this and of the 
 coats of the serving-men only deepened the 
 thunderous effect of the black. Strangely, 
 however, among these sad-coloured men there 
 moved a figure entirely difterent. A negro, 
 white turbaned, and with his blue livery of a 
 lighter shade, of fantastic make and relieved 
 by a great deal of white and shining silver, 
 so as to have an entirely difierent effect.
 
 76 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 He placed himself behind the chair of 
 Dr. Woodford's opposite neighbour, a shrewd 
 business-like looking gentleman, soberly but 
 handsomely dressed, with a certain foreign 
 cut about his clothes, and a cravat of rich 
 Flemish lace. He was presented to the 
 Doctor as Major Oakshott's brother, Sir 
 Peregrine. The rest of the party consisted 
 of Oliver and Robert, sturdy, ruddy lads of 
 fifteen and twelve, and their tutor, Mr. Horn- 
 castle, an elderly man, who twenty years 
 before had resio-ned his livino- because he 
 could not bring himself to accept all the 
 Liturgy. 
 
 While Sir Peregrine courteously relieved 
 his sister-in-law of the trouble of carving the 
 gammon of bacon which accompanied the 
 veal which her husband was helping, Dr. 
 Woodford informed her of her son's progress 
 towards recovery. 
 
 ' Ah,' she said, ' I knew you had come to 
 tell us that he is ready to be brought home ;' 
 and her tone was fretful. 
 
 ' We are greatly beholden to you, sir,' 
 said the Major from the bottom of the table. 
 ' The boy shall be fetched home immediately.'
 
 PEREGRINE'S HOME 77 
 
 ' Not SO, sir, as yet, I beg of you. Neither 
 his head nor his side can brook the journey 
 for at least another week, and indeed my 
 o-ood sister Woodford will hardly know how 
 to part with her patient.' 
 
 * She will not long be of that mind after 
 Master Perry gets to his feet again,' muttered 
 the chaplain. 
 
 ' I ndeed no,' chimed in the mother. ' There 
 will be no more peace in the house when he 
 is come back.' 
 
 ' I assure you, madam,' said Dr. Woodford, 
 ' that he has been a very good child, grateful 
 and obedient, nor have I heard any com- 
 plaints.' 
 
 'Your kindness, or else that of Mrs. 
 Woodford, carries you far, sir,' answered his 
 host. 
 
 'What ? Is my nephew and namesake so 
 peevish a scapegrace ?' demanded the visitor. 
 
 On which anecdotes broke forth from all 
 quarters. Peregrine had greased the already 
 slippery oak stairs, had exchanged Oliver's 
 careful exercise for a ribald broadsheet, had 
 filled Mr. Horncastle's pipe with gunpowder, 
 and mixed snuff with the chocolate specially
 
 78 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 prepared for the peculiar godly guest Dame 
 Priscilla Waller. Every one had something 
 to adduce, even the serving-men behind the 
 chairs ; and if Oliver and Robert did not add 
 their quota, it was because absolute silence at 
 meals was the rule for nonage. However, 
 the subject was evidently distasteful to the 
 father, who changed the conversation by 
 asking his brother questions about the young 
 Prince of Orange and the Grand Pensionary 
 De Witt. For the gentleman had been acting 
 as English attache to the Embassy at the 
 Hague, whence he had come on affairs of 
 State to London, and after being knighted 
 by Charles, had newly arrived at the old 
 home, which he had scarcely seen since his 
 brother's marriage. Dr. Woodford enjoyed 
 his conversation, and his information on 
 foreign politics, and the Major, though now 
 and then protesting, was evidently proud of 
 his brother. 
 
 When grace had been pronounced by the 
 chaplain the lady withdrew to her parlour, 
 the two boys, each with an obeisance and 
 request for permission, departed for an hour's 
 recreation, and Dr. Woodford intimated that
 
 V PEREGRINE'S HOME 79 
 
 he wished for some conv^ersation with his 
 host respecting the boy Peregrine. 
 
 ' Let us discuss it here,' said Major Oak- 
 shott, turning towards a small table set In the 
 deep bay window, and garnished with wine, 
 fruit, and long slender glasses. ' Good Mr. 
 Horncastle,' he added, as he motioned his 
 guest to one of the four seats, ' is with me in 
 all that concerns my children, and I desire 
 my brother's counsel respecting the untoward 
 lad with whom it has pleased Heaven to 
 afflict me.' 
 
 When the glasses had been filled with 
 claret Dr. Woodford uttered a diplomatic 
 compliment on the healthful and robust 
 appearance of the eldest and youngest sons, 
 and asked whether any cause had been 
 assigned for the difference between them and 
 the intermediate brother. 
 
 ' None, sir,' returned the father with a 
 sigh, ' save the will of the Almighty to visit 
 us for our sins with a son who has thus far 
 shown himself one of the marred vessels 
 doomed to be broken by the potter. It may 
 be in order to humble me and prove me that 
 this hath been laid upon me.'
 
 8o A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 The chaplain groaned acquiescence, but 
 there was vexation in the brother's face. 
 
 'Sir,' said the Doctor, 'it is my opinion 
 and that of my sister-in-law, an excellent, 
 discreet, and devout woman, that the poor 
 child would give you more cause for hope if 
 the belief had not become fixed in his mind 
 that he is really and truly a fairy elf — yes, in 
 very sooth — a changeling ! ' 
 
 All the auditors broke out into exclamations 
 that it was impossible that a boy of fourteen 
 could entertain so absurb an idea, and the 
 tutor evidently thought it a fresh proof of 
 depravity that he should thus have tried to 
 deceive his kind hosts. 
 
 In proof that Peregrine veritably believed 
 it himself. Dr. Woodford related what he had 
 witnessed on Midsummer night, mentioning 
 how In delirium the boy had evidently believed 
 himself in fairyland, and how disappointed 
 he had been, on regaining his senses, to find 
 himself on common earth ; telling also of 
 the adventure with the King, which Sir 
 Christopher Wren had described to him, but 
 of which Major Oakshott was unaware, 
 though it explained the offer of the pageship.
 
 V PEREGRINE'S HOME 8i 
 
 He was a good deal struck by these revela- 
 tions, proving misery that he had never sus- 
 pected, though, as he said, he had often 
 pleaded, ' Why will ye revolt more and more ? 
 ye will be stricken more and more.' 
 
 * Have you ever sought his confidence ? ' 
 asked the travelled brother, a question evi- 
 dently scarcely understood, for the reply was, 
 * I have always required of my sons to speak 
 the truth, nor have they failed of late years 
 save this unfortunate Peregrine.' 
 
 'And,' said Sir Peregrine, 'if the unlucky 
 lad actually supposes himself to be no human 
 being, admonitions and chastisements would 
 naturally be vain.' 
 
 ' I cannot believe it,' exclaimed the Major. 
 ' 'Tis true, as I now remember, I once came 
 on a couple of beldames, my wife's nurse 
 and another, who has since been ducked for 
 witchcraft, and found them about to flog the 
 babe with nettles, and lay him in the thorn 
 hedge because he was a sickly child, whom, 
 forsooth, they took to be a changeling ; but 
 I forbade the profane folly to be ever again 
 mentioned in my household, nor did I ever 
 hear thereof aofain.' 
 
 VOL. I G
 
 82 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 ' There are a good many more things 
 mentioned in a household, brother, than the 
 master is wont to hear of,' remarked Sir 
 Peregrine. 
 
 Dr. Woodford then begged as a personal 
 favour for an individual examination of the 
 family and servants on their opinion. The 
 master was reluctant thus, as he expressed it, 
 to go a-fooling, but his brother backed the 
 Doctor up, and further prevented a general 
 assembly to put one another to shame, but 
 insisted on the witnesses being called in one 
 by one. Oliver, the first summoned, was 
 beginning to be somewhat less overawed by 
 his father than in his earlier boyhood. To 
 the inquiry what he thought of his brother 
 Peregrine, he made a tentative sort of reply, 
 that he was a strange fellow, who never could 
 keep out of disgrace. 
 
 * That is not the question,' said his father. 
 * I am almost ashamed to speak it ! Do you 
 — nay, have you ever supposed him to be 
 a ' he really could not bring out the word. 
 
 ' A changeling, sir ? ' returned Oliver. ' I 
 do not believe so now, knowing that it is 
 impossible, but as a child I always did.'
 
 V PEREGRINE'S HOME 83 
 
 ' Who durst possess you with so foolish 
 and profane a falsehood ? ' 
 
 ' Every one, sir. I cannot recollect the 
 time when I did not as entirely deem Pere- 
 grine a changeling elf as that Robin was my 
 own brother. He believes so himself.' 
 
 ' You have never striven to disabuse 
 him.' 
 
 ' Indeed, sir, he would scarce have listened 
 to me had I done so ; besides, to tell the 
 truth, it has only been of late, since I have 
 been older, and have studied more, that I 
 have come to perceive the folly of it.' 
 
 Major Oakshott groaned, and bade him 
 call Robert without saying wherefore. The 
 little fellow came in, somewhat frightened, 
 and when asked the question that had been 
 put to his elder, his face lighted up, and he 
 exclaimed, ' Oh, have they brought him back 
 again ? ' 
 
 * Whom ? ' 
 
 ' Our real brother, sir, who was carried off 
 to fairyland ! ' 
 
 ' Who told you so, Robert } ' 
 
 He looked puzzled, and said, ' Sir, they 
 all know it. Molly Owens, that was his
 
 84 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 foster-mother, saw the fairies bear him off on 
 a broomstick up the chimney.' 
 
 ' Robert, no lying ! ' 
 
 The boy was only restrained from tears 
 by fear of his father, and just managed to 
 say, ' 'Tis what they all say, and Perry 
 knows.' 
 
 ' Knows ! ' muttered Major Oakshott in 
 despair, but the uncle, drawing Robin to- 
 wards him, extracted that Perry had been 
 seen flying out of the loft window, when he 
 had been locked up — Robin had never seen 
 it himself, but the maids had often done so. 
 Moreover, there was proof positive, in the 
 mark on Oliver's head, where he had nearly 
 killed himself by tumbling downstairs, being 
 lured by the fairies while they stole away the 
 babe. 
 
 The Major could not listen with patience. 
 ' A boy of that age to repeat such blasphem- 
 ous nonsense ! ' he exclaimed ; and Robert, 
 restraining with difficulty his sobs of terror, 
 was dismissed to fetch the butler. 
 
 The old Ironside who now appeared 
 would not avouch his own disbelief in the 
 identity of Master Peregrine, being, as he
 
 V PEREGRINE'S HOME 85 
 
 said, a man who had studied his Bible, 
 listened to godly preachers, and seen the 
 world ; but he had no hesitation in declaring 
 that almost every other soul in the household 
 believed in it as firmly as in the Gospel, 
 certainly all the women, and probably all the 
 men, nor was there any doubt that the young 
 gentleman conducted himself more like a 
 goblin than the son of pious Christian 
 parents. In effect both the clergyman and 
 the Diplomate could not help suspecting that 
 in other company the worthy butler's dis- 
 avowal of all share in the superstition might 
 have been less absolute. 
 
 ' After this,' said Major Oakshott with a 
 sigh, ' it seems useless to carry the inquiry 
 farther.' 
 
 ' What says my sister Oakshott .^ ' in- 
 quired Sir Peregrine. 
 
 ' She ! Poor soul, she is too feeble to be 
 fretted,' said her husband. ' She has never 
 been the same woman since the Fire of Lon- 
 don, and it would be vain to vex her with 
 questions. She would be of one mind while 
 I spoke to her, and another while her women 
 were pouring their tales into her ear. Me-
 
 86 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 thinks I now understand why she has always 
 seemed to shrink from this unfortunate child, 
 and to fear rather than love him.' 
 
 ' Even so, sir,' added the tutor. ' Much 
 is explained that I never before understood. 
 The question is how to deal with him under 
 this fresh light. I will, so please your 
 honour, assemble the family this very night, 
 and expound to them that such superstitions 
 are contrary to the very word of Scripture.' 
 
 ' Much good will that do,' muttered the 
 knight. 
 
 ' I should humbly suggest,' put in Dr. 
 Woodford, ' that the best hope for the poor 
 lad would be to place him where these 
 foolish tales were unknown, and he could 
 start afresh on the same terms with other 
 youths,' 
 
 ' There is no school in accordance with 
 my principles,' said the Squire gloomily. 
 ' Godly men who hold the faith as I do are 
 inhibited by the powers that be from teaching 
 in schools.' 
 
 'And,' said his brother, 'you hold these 
 principles as more important than the causing 
 your son to be bred up a human being instead
 
 V PEREGRINE'S HOME 87 
 
 of being pointed at and rendered hopeless as 
 a demon.' 
 
 ' I am bound to do so,' said the Major. 
 
 ' Surely, 'said Dr. Woodford, ' some scholar 
 might be found, either here or in Holland, 
 who might share your opinions, and could 
 receive the boy without incurring penalties 
 for opening a school without license.' 
 
 'It is a matter for prayer and consider- 
 ation,' said Major Oakshott. * Meantime, 
 reverend sir, I thank you most heartily for 
 the goodness with which you have treated 
 my untoward son, and likewise for having 
 opened my eyes to the root of his freakish- 
 ness.' 
 
 The Doctor understood this as dismissal, 
 and asked for his horse, intimating, however, 
 that he would gladly keep the boy till some 
 arrangement had been decided on. Then 
 he rode home to tell his sister-in-law that he 
 had done his best, and that he thought it 
 a fortunate conjunction that the travelled 
 brother had been present.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 A RELAPSE 
 
 ' A tell-tale in their company 
 They never could endure 
 And whoso kept not secretly 
 
 Their pranks was punished sure. 
 It was a just and Christian deed 
 
 To pinch such black and blue ; 
 Oh, how the commonwealth doth need 
 Such justices as you !' 
 
 Bishop Corbett. 
 
 Several days passed, during which there 
 could be no doubt that Peregrine Oakshott 
 knew how to behave himself, not merely to 
 grown-up people, but to little Anne, who had 
 entirely lost her dread of him, and accepted 
 him as a playfellow. He was able to join 
 the family meals, and sit in the pleasant 
 garden, shaded by the walls of the old castle, 
 as well as by its own apple-trees, and looking
 
 CHAP. VI 
 
 A RELAPSE 89 
 
 out on the little bay in front, at full tide as 
 smooth and shining as a lake. 
 
 There, while Anne did her task of spin- 
 nine or of white seam, Mrs. Woodford would 
 tell the children stories, or read to them from 
 the Pilgidms Progress, a wonderful romance 
 to both. Peregrine, still tamed by weakness, 
 would lie on the grass at her feet, in a tran- 
 quil bliss such as he had never known before, 
 and his fairy romances to Anne were becom- 
 ing mitigated, when one day a big coach 
 came along the road from Fareham, with two 
 boys riding beside it, escorting Lady Arch- 
 field and Mistress Lucy. 
 
 The lady was come to study Mrs. Wood- 
 ford's recipe for preserved cherries, the young 
 people, Charles, Lucy, and their cousin 
 Sedley, now at home for the summer 
 holidays, to spend an afternoon w^ith Mistress 
 Anne. 
 
 Great was Lady Archfield's surprise at 
 finding that Major Oakshott's cross-grained 
 slip of a boy was still at Portchester. 
 
 ' If you were forced to take him in for 
 very charity when he was hurt,' she said, ' I 
 should have thought you would have been
 
 90 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 rid of him as soon as he could leave his 
 bed; - 
 
 ' The road to Oakwood is too rough for 
 broken ribs as yet,' said Mrs. Woodford, ' nor 
 is the poor boy ready for discipline.' 
 
 ' Ay, I fancy that Major Oakshott is a 
 bitter Puritan in his own house ; but no dis- 
 cipline could be too harsh for such a boy as 
 that, according to all that I hear,' said her 
 ladyship, ' nor does he look as if much were 
 amiss with him so far as may be judged of 
 features so strange and writhen.' 
 
 ' He is nearly well, but not yet strong, 
 and we are keeping him here till his father 
 has decided on what is best for him.' 
 
 ' You even trust him with your little maid ! 
 And alone! I wonder at you, madam.' 
 
 ' Indeed, my lady, I have seen no harm 
 come of it. He is c^entle and kind with 
 Anne, and I think she softens him.' 
 
 Still Mrs. Woodford would gladly not 
 have been bound to her colander and pre- 
 serving-pan in her still-room, where her 
 guest's housewifely mind found great scope 
 for inquiry and comment, lasting for nearly 
 two hours.
 
 VI A RELAPSE 91 
 
 When at length the operations were over, 
 and numerous Httle pots of jam tied up as 
 specimens for the Archfield family to taste at 
 home, the children were not in sight. No 
 doubt, said Mrs. Woodford, they would be 
 playing in the castle court, and the visitor 
 accompanied her thither in some anxiety 
 about broken walls and steps, but they were 
 not in sight, nor did calls bring them. 
 
 The children had gone out together, Anne 
 feelinof altogether at ease and natural with 
 congenial playmates. Even Sedley's tortures 
 were preferable to Peregrine's attentions, 
 since the first were only the tyranny of a 
 graceless boy, the other gave her an inde- 
 scribable sense of strangeness from which 
 these ordinary mundane comrades were a 
 relief and protection. 
 
 However, Charles and Sedley rushed of! 
 to see a young colt in which they were in- 
 terested, and Lucy, in spite of her first 
 shrinking, found Peregrine better company 
 than she could have expected, when he 
 assisted in swinging her and Anne by turns 
 under the old ash-tree. 
 
 When the other two were seen approach-
 
 92 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 Ing, the swinging girl hastily sprang out, only 
 too well aware what Sedley's method of 
 swinging would be. Then as the boys came 
 up followed inquiries why Peregrine had not 
 joined them, and jests in schoolboy taste 
 ensued as to elf-locks in the horses' manes, 
 and inquiries when he had last ridden to a 
 witch's sabbath. Little Anne, in duty bound, 
 made her protest, but this only incited Charles 
 to add his word to the teasing, till Lucy joined 
 in the laugh. 
 
 By and by, as they loitered along, they 
 came to the Doctor's little boat, and there 
 was a proposal to get in and rock. Lucy 
 refused, out of respect for her company attire, 
 and Anne could not leave her, so the two 
 young ladies turned away with arms round 
 each other's waists, Lucy demonstratively re- 
 joicing to be quit of the troublesome boys. 
 
 Before they had gone far an eldritch shout 
 of laughter was responded to by a burst of 
 furious dismay and imprecation. The boat 
 with the two boys was drifting out to sea, and 
 Peregrine capering wildly on the shore, but 
 in another instant he had vanished into the 
 castle.
 
 VI A RELAPSE 93 
 
 Anne had presence of mind enough to 
 rush to the nearest fisherman's cottage, and 
 send him out to bring them back, and it was 
 at this juncture that the two mothers arrived 
 on the scene. There was Httle real danger. 
 A rope was thrown and caught, and after 
 about half an hour of watching they were 
 safely landed, but the tide had ebbed so far 
 that they had to take off their shoes and 
 stockings and wade through the mud. They 
 were open-mouthed against the imp who had 
 enticed them to rock in the boat, then in one 
 second had cut the painter, bounded out, and 
 sent them adrift with his mocking ' Ho! ho! 
 ho !' Sedley Archfield clenched his fists, and 
 gazed round wildly in search of the goblin 
 to chastise him soundly, and Charles was 
 ready to rush all over the castle in search 
 of him. 
 
 'Two to one!' cried Anne, 'and he so 
 small ; you would never be so cowardly.' 
 
 ' As if he were like an honest fellow,' said 
 Charley. ' A goblin like that has his odds 
 against a dozen of us.' 
 
 'I'd teach him, if I could but catch him,' 
 cried Sedley.
 
 94 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 ' I told you,' said Anne, ' that he would be 
 good if you would let him alone and not 
 plague him.' 
 
 ' Now, Anne,' said Charles, as he sat 
 putting on his stockings, ' how could I stand 
 beino: cast off for that hobfroblin, that looks 
 as if he had been cut out of a root of yew 
 with a blunt knife, and all crooked ! I that 
 always was your sweetheart, to see you con- 
 sorting with a mis-shapen squinting Whig of 
 a Nonconformist like that.' 
 
 'Nonconformist! I'll Nonconform him 
 indeed,' added Sedley. ' I wish I had the 
 wringina: of his neck.' 
 
 'Now is not that hard!' said Anne; 'a 
 poor lad who has been very sick, and that 
 every one baits and spurns.' 
 
 'Serve him right,' said Sedley; 'he shall 
 have more of the same sauce !' 
 
 ' I think he has cast his spell on Anne,' 
 added Charles, ' or how can she stand up for 
 him ?' 
 
 ' My mamma bade me be kind to him.' 
 
 * Kind ! I would as lief be kind to a toad !' 
 put in Lucy. 
 
 ' To see you kind to him makes me sick,'
 
 VI A RELAPSE 95 
 
 exclaimed Charles, ' You see what comes 
 of it.' 
 
 ' It did not come of my kindness, but of 
 your unkindness,' reasoned Anne. 
 
 ' I told you so,' said Charles. ' You would 
 have been best pleased if we had been carried 
 out to sea and drowned !' 
 
 Anne burst into tears and disavowed any 
 such intention, and Charles was protesting 
 that he w^ould only forgive her on condition 
 of her never showing any kindness to Pere- 
 grine again, when a sudden shower of sand 
 and pebbles descended, one of them hitting 
 Sedley pretty sharply on the ear. The boys 
 sprang up with a howl of imprecation and 
 vengeance, but no one was to be seen, only 
 'Ho! ho! ho!' resounded from the battle- 
 ments. Off they rushed headlong, but the 
 nearest door was in a square tower a good 
 way off, and when they reached it the door 
 defied their efforts of frantic rage, whilst 
 another shower descended on them from 
 above, accompanied by the usual shout. 
 But while they were dashing off in quest of 
 another entrance they were met by a servant 
 sent to summon them to return home. Coach
 
 96 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 and horses were at the door, and Lady Arch- 
 field was in haste to get them away, declar- 
 ing that she should not think their lives safe 
 near that fiendish monster. Considering that 
 Sedley was nearly twice as big as Peregrine, 
 and Charles a strong well-grown lad, this was 
 a tribute to his preternatural powers. 
 
 Very unwillingly they went, and if Lady 
 Archfield had not kept a strict watch from her 
 coach window, they would certainly have turned 
 back to revenge the pranks played on them. 
 The last view of them showed Sedley turning 
 round shaking his whip and clenching his 
 teeth in defiance. Mrs. Woodford was greatly 
 concerned, especially as Peregrine could not 
 be found and did not appear at supper. 
 
 ' Had he run away to sea ?' the usual course 
 of refractory lads at Portchester, but for so 
 slight a creature only half recovered it did 
 not seem probable. It was more likely that 
 he had gone home, and that Mrs. Woodford 
 felt as somewhat a mortifying idea. How- 
 ever, on looking into his chamber, as she 
 sought her own, she beheld him in bed, with 
 his face turned into the pillow, whether asleep 
 or feigning slumber there was no knowing.
 
 VI A J^E LAPSE 97 
 
 Later, she heard sounds that induced her 
 to go and look at him. He was starting, 
 moaning, and babbhng in his sleep. But 
 with mornincr ^H his old nature seemed to 
 have returned. 
 
 There was a hedorehos: in Anne's bowl of 
 milk, Mrs. Woodford's poultry were cackling 
 hysterically at an unfortunate kitten suspended 
 from an apple-tree and let down and drawn 
 up among them. The three-legged stool 
 of the old waiting-woman 'toppled down 
 headlong ' as though by the hands of Puck, 
 and even on Anne's arms certain black and 
 blue marks of nails were discovered, and 
 when her mother examined her on them she 
 only cried and begged not to be made to 
 answer. 
 
 And while Dr. Woodford was dozing in 
 his chair as usual after the noonday dinner, 
 Mrs. Woodford actually detected a hook 
 suspended from a horsehair descending in the 
 direction of his big horn spectacles, and 
 quietly moving across to frustrate the attempt, 
 she unearthed Peregrine on a chair angling 
 from behind the window curtain. 
 
 She did not speak, but fixed her calm eyes 
 
 VOL. I il
 
 98 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 on him with a look of sad, grave disappoint- 
 ment as she wound up the Hne. In a few 
 seconds the boy had thrown himself at her 
 feet, rolling as if in pain, and sobbing out, 
 ' 'Tis all of no use ! Let me alone.' 
 
 Nevertheless he obeyed the hushing ges- 
 ture of her hand, and held his breath, as she 
 led him out to the garden-seat, where they 
 had spent so many happy quiet hours. Then 
 he flung himself down and repeated his ex- 
 clamation, half piteous, half defiant. ' Leave 
 me alone! Leave me alone! It has me! 
 It is all of no use.' 
 
 ' What has you, my poor child ? ' 
 ' The evil spirit. You will have it that 
 I'm not one of — one of them — so it must be 
 as my father says, that I am possessed — the 
 evil spirit. I was at peace with you — so happy 
 — happier than ever I was before — and now 
 — those boys. It has me again — I could not 
 help it — I've even hurt her — Mistress Anne. 
 Let me alone — send me home — to be scorned, 
 and shunned, and brow-beaten — and as bad 
 as ever — then at least she will be safe from 
 me.' 
 
 All this came out between sobs such that
 
 VI ' A RELAPSE 99 
 
 Mrs. Woodford could not attempt to speak, 
 but she kept her hand on him, and at last 
 she said, when he could hear her : ' Every one 
 of us has to fight with an evil spirit, and 
 when we are not on our guard he is but too 
 apt to take advantage of us.' 
 
 The boy rather sullenly repeated that it 
 was of no use to fight against his. 
 
 ' Indeed ! Nay. Were you ever so much 
 grieved before at having let him have the 
 mastery ? ' 
 
 ' No — but no one ever was good to me 
 before.' 
 
 ' Yes ; all about you lived under a cruel 
 error, and you helped them in it. But if you 
 had not a better nature in you, my poor 
 child, you would not be happy here and 
 thankful for what we can do for you.' 
 
 ' I was like some one else here,' said Pere- 
 grine, picking a daisy to pieces, * but they 
 stirred it all up. And at home I shall be 
 just the same as ever I was.' 
 
 She longed to tell him that there was 
 hope of a change in his life, but she durst 
 not till it was more certain, so she said — 
 
 ' There was One who came to conquer
 
 loo A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 the evil spirit and the evil nature, and to give 
 each one of us the power to get the victory. 
 The harder the victory, the more glorious ! ' 
 and her eyes sparkled at the thought. 
 
 He caught a moment's glow, then fell 
 back. ' For those that are chosen,' he said. 
 
 'You are chosen — you were chosen by 
 your baptism. You have the stirrings of 
 good within you. You can win and beat 
 back the evil side of you in Christ's strength, 
 if you will ask for it, and go on in His might.' 
 
 The boy groaned. Mrs. Woodford knew 
 that the great point with him would be to 
 teach him to hope and to pray, but the very 
 name of prayer had been rendered so dis- 
 tasteful to him that she scarce durst press the 
 subject by name, and her heart sank at the 
 thought of sending him home again, but she 
 was glad to be interrupted, and said no 
 more. 
 
 At night, however, she heard sounds of 
 moaning and stifled babbling that reminded 
 her of his times of delirium, and going into 
 his room she found him tossing and groaning 
 so that it was manifestly a kindness to wake 
 him ; but her gentle touch occasioned a
 
 VI A RELAPSE loi 
 
 scream of terror, and he started aside with 
 open glassy eyes, crying, ' Oh take me not ! ' 
 
 'My dear boy! It is I. Perry, do you 
 not know me ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, madam ! ' in infinite relief, ' it is you. 
 I thoucjht — I thouo:ht I was in elf-land and 
 that they were paying me for the tithe to 
 hell ; ' and he still shuddered all over. 
 
 ' No elf — no elf, dear boy ; a christened 
 boy — God's child, and under His care;' and 
 she began the 121st Psalm. 
 
 'Oh, but I am not under His shadow! 
 The Evil One has had me again ! He will 
 have me. Aren't those his claws ? He will 
 have me ! ' 
 
 * Never, my child, if you will cry to God 
 for help. Say this with me, " Lord, be Thou 
 my keeper." ' 
 
 He did so, and grew more quiet, and she 
 began to repeat Dr. Ken's evening hymn, 
 which had become known in manuscript in 
 Winchester. It soothed him, and she thought 
 he was dropping off to sleep, but no sooner 
 did she move than he started with ' There it 
 is aeain — the black winofs — the claws — ' then 
 while awake, ' Say it again ! Oh, say it
 
 I02 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap, vi 
 
 again. Fold me in your prayers — you can 
 pray,' She went back to the verse, and he 
 became quiet, but her next attempt to leave 
 him caused an entreaty that she would remain, 
 nor could she quit him till the dawn, happily 
 very early, was dispelling the terrors of the 
 night, and then, when he had himself mur- 
 mured once — 
 
 ' Let no ill dreams disturb my rest,' 
 No powers of darkness me molest,' 
 
 he fell asleep at last, with a softer look on 
 his pinched face. Poor boy, would that verse 
 be his first step to prayer and deliverance 
 from his own too real enemy ?
 
 CHAPTER VH 
 
 THE ENVOY 
 
 ' I then did ask of her, her changeling child.' 
 
 Midsummer Nighfs Dream. 
 
 Mrs. Woodford was too good a housewife 
 to allow herself any extra rest on account of 
 her vigil, and she had just put her Juneating 
 apple-tart into the oven when Anne rushed 
 into the kitchen with the warning that there 
 was a ofrand gfentleman oettinp: off his horse 
 at the gateway, and speaking to her uncle — 
 she thoufjht it niust be Pereofrine s uncle. 
 
 Mrs. Woodford was of the same opinion, 
 and asked where Peregrine was. 
 
 ' Fast asleep in the window-seat of the 
 parlour, mother ! I did not waken him, for 
 he looked so tired.' 
 
 'That was ricrht. mv little maiden,' said 
 Mrs. Woodford, hastily washing her hands,
 
 I04 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 taking off her cooking apron, letting down 
 her black gown from its pocket holes, and 
 arraneinsf her veil -like widow's coif, after 
 which, in full trim for company, she sallied 
 out to the front door, to avert, if possible, the 
 wakening of the boy, whom she wished to 
 appear to the best advantage. 
 
 She met in the garden her brother-in-law, 
 and Sir Peregrine Oakshott, on being pre- 
 sented to her, made such a bow as had seldom 
 been seen in those parts, as he politely said 
 that he was the bearer of his brother's thanks 
 for her care of his nephew. 
 
 Mrs. Woodford explained that the boy 
 had had so bad a night that it would be well 
 not to break his present sleep, and invited 
 the guest to walk in the garden or sit in the 
 Doctor's study or in the shade of the castle 
 wall. 
 
 This last was what he preferred, and there 
 they seated themselves, with a green slope 
 before them down to the pale gray creek, 
 and the hill beyond lying in the summer 
 sunshine. 
 
 ' I have been long in coming hither,' said 
 the knight, ' partly on account of letters on
 
 VII THE ENVOY 105 
 
 affairs of State, and partly likewise because I 
 desired to come alone, thinkinc^ that I might 
 better understand how it is with' the lad with- 
 out the presence of his father or brothers.' 
 
 ' I am very glad you have done so, sir.' 
 
 * Then, madam, 1 entreat of you to speak 
 freely and tell me your opinion of him without 
 reserve. You need not fear offence by speak- 
 ing of the mode in which they have treated 
 him at honie. My poor brother has meant 
 to do his duty, but he has stood so far aloof 
 from his sons that he has dealt with them in 
 ignorance, and their mother, between sickli- 
 ness and timidity, is a mere prey to the folly 
 of her gossips. So speak plainly, madam, I 
 beg of you.' 
 
 Mrs. Woodford did speak plainly of the 
 boy's rooted belief in his own elfish origin, 
 and how when arguing against it she had 
 found the alternative even sadder and more 
 hopeless, how well he comported himself as 
 long as he was treated as a human and rational 
 being, but how the taunts and jests of the 
 young Archfields had renewed all the mischief, 
 to the poor fellow's own remorse and despair. 
 
 Sir Peregrine listened with onlv a word of
 
 io6 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 comment, or question now and then, like a 
 man of the world well used to hearing all 
 before he committed himself, and the descrip- 
 tion was only just ended when the clang of 
 the warning dinner-bell sounded and they 
 rose ; but as they were passing the window 
 of the dining-parlour a shriek of Anne's 
 startled them all, and as they sprang forward, 
 Mrs. Woodford first, Pereofrine's voice was 
 heard, ' No, no, Anne, don't be afraid. It is 
 for me he is come ; I knew he would.' 
 
 Something in a strange language was heard. 
 A black face with round eyes and gleaming 
 teeth miofht be seen bendino- forward, Anne 
 
 o o 
 
 gave another shriek, but was heard crying, 
 'No, no! Get away, sir. He is our Lord 
 Christ's ! He is ! You can't ! you shan't 
 have him.' 
 
 And Anne was seen standing over Pere- 
 grine, who had dropped shuddering and 
 nearly fainting on the floor, while she stood 
 valiantly up warding off the advance of him 
 whom she took for the Prince of Darkness, 
 and in her excitement not at first aware 
 of those who were come to her aid at the 
 window. In one second the negro was saying
 
 VII THE ENVOY 107 
 
 something which his master answered, and 
 sent him off. Mrs. Woodford had called out, 
 ' Don't be afraid, dear children. 'Tis Sir 
 Peregrine's black servant ' ; and the Doctor, 
 ' Foolish children ! What is this nonsense ?' 
 A moment or two more and they were in the 
 room, Anne, all trembling, flying up to her 
 mother and hiding her face against her 
 between fright and shame at not having 
 thought of the black servant, and the while 
 they lifted up Peregrine, who, as he met his 
 kind friend's eyes, said faindy, ' Is he gone ? 
 was it the dream again ?' 
 
 ' It was your uncle's blackamoor servant,' 
 said Mrs. Woodford. 'You woke up, and no 
 wonder you were startled. Come with me, 
 both of you, and make you ready for dinner.' 
 
 Peregrine had rather collapsed than fainted, 
 for he was able to walk with her hand on his 
 shoulder, and Sir Peregrine understood her 
 sign and did not attempt to accost either of 
 the children, though as the Doctor took him 
 to his chamber he expressed his admiration 
 of the little maiden. 
 
 'That's the right woman.' he said, 'losing 
 herself when there is one to guard. Nay,
 
 io8 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 sir, she needs no excuse. Such a spirit may 
 well redeem a child's mistake.' 
 
 Mrs. Woodford had reassured the children, 
 so that they were more than half ashamed, 
 though scarce willing to reappear when she 
 had made Peregrine wash his face and hands, 
 smooth the hair ruffled in his nap, freshly 
 tying his little cravat and the ribbons on his 
 shoes and at his knees. To make his hair 
 into anything but elf locks, or to obliterate 
 the bristly tuft that made him like Riquet, 
 was impossible, illness had made him addi- 
 tionally lean and sallow, and his keen eyes, 
 under their black contracted brows and dark 
 lashes, showed all the more the curious varia- 
 tion in their tints, and with an obliquity that 
 varied accordino: to the state of the nerves. 
 There was a satirical mischievous cast in the 
 mould of the face, though individually the 
 features were not amiss except for their thin- 
 ness, and in fact the unpleasantness of the 
 expression had insensibly been softened dur- 
 ing this last month, and there was nothing 
 repellant, though much that was quaint, in 
 the slight figure, with the indescribably one- 
 sided air, and stature more befitting ten than
 
 VII THE ENVOY 109 
 
 fourteen years. What would the visitor think 
 of him ? The Doctor called to him, ' Come, 
 Peregrine, your uncle, Sir Peregrine Oak- 
 shott, has been good enough to come over to 
 see you.' 
 
 Peregrine had been well trained enough in 
 that bitter school of home to make a correct 
 bow, though his feelings were betrayed by 
 his yellow eye going almost out of sight. 
 
 ' My namesake — your father will not let 
 me say my godson,' said Sir Peregrine smiling. 
 ' We ought to be good friends.' 
 
 The boy looked up. Perhaps he had 
 never been greeted in so human a manner 
 before, and there was something confiding in 
 the way those bony fingers of his rested a 
 moment in his uncle's clasp. 
 
 ' And this is your little daughter, madam, 
 Peregrine's kind playmate ? You may well 
 be proud of her valour,' said the knight, while 
 Anne made her courtesy, which he, in the 
 custom of the day, returned with a kiss ; and 
 she, who had been mortally ashamed of her 
 terror, marvelled at his praise. 
 
 The pair of fowls were by this time on the 
 table, and good manners required silence on
 
 no A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 the part of the children, but while Sir Pere- 
 grine explained that he had been appointed 
 by his Majesty as Envoy to the Elector of 
 Brandenburg, and gave various interesting 
 particulars of foreign life, Mrs. Woodford 
 saw that he was keeping a quiet watch over 
 his nephew's habits at table, and she was 
 thankful that when unmoved by any way- 
 ward spirit of mischief they were quite 
 beyond reproach. Something of the refine- 
 ment of his poor mother's tastes must have 
 been inherited by Peregrine, for a certain 
 daintiness of taste and habit had probably 
 added to his discomforts in the austere, not 
 to say rude simplicity imposed upon the 
 children of the family. 
 
 When the meal was over the children 
 were dismissed to the garden, but bidden to 
 keep within call, in case Sir Peregrine should 
 wish to see his nephew again. The others 
 repaired again to the garden seat, with wine 
 and fruit, but the knight begged Mrs. Wood- 
 ford not to leave them. 
 
 ' I am satisfied,' he said. ' The boy shows 
 gentle blood and breeding. There was cause 
 enough for fright without cowardice, and
 
 VII 
 
 THE ENVOY in 
 
 there is not, what I was lead to fear, such 
 uncouthness or unc,^ainHness as should hinder 
 me from having him with me.' 
 
 * Oh, sir, is that your purpose ? ' cried the 
 lady, almost as eagerly as if it had been high 
 preferment for her own child. 
 
 ' I had thought thereon,' said the envoy. 
 ' There is reason that he should be my 
 charge, and my brother is like to give a 
 ready consent, since he is sorely perplexed 
 what to do with this poor untoward slip.' 
 
 ' He would be less untoward were he 
 happier,' said Mrs. Woodford. ' Indeed, sir, 
 
 I do not think you will repent it, if ' and 
 
 she paused. 
 
 ' What would you say, madam ? ' 
 ' If only all your honour's household are 
 absolutely ignorant of all these tales.' 
 
 ' That can well be, madam. I have only 
 one body-servant wath me, this unlucky black- 
 amoor, who speaks nothing save Dutch. I 
 had already thought of leaving my grooms 
 here, and returning to London by sea, and 
 this could well be done, and would cut off all 
 channels of gossiping. The boy is, the 
 chaplain tells me, quick-witted, and a fair
 
 112 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 scholar for his years, and I can find good 
 schoolinor for him.' 
 
 'When his head is able to bear it,' said 
 ]\Irs. Woodford. 
 
 'Truly, sir,' added the Doctor, 'you are 
 doing a good work, and I trust that the boy 
 will requite you worthily.' 
 
 ' I tell your reverence,' said Sir Peregrine, 
 ' crooked stick though they term him, I had 
 ten times rather have the dealing with him 
 than with those comely great lubbers his 
 brothers ! The question now is, shall I tell 
 him what is in store for him ? ' 
 
 ' I should say,' returned Dr. Woodford, 
 ' that provided it is certain that the intention 
 can be carried out, nothing would be so 
 good for him as hope. Do you not say so, 
 sister ?' 
 
 ' Indeed I do,' she replied. ' I believe 
 that he would be a very different boy if he 
 were relieved from the misery he suffers at 
 home and requites by mischievous pranks. 
 I do not say he will or can be a good lad at 
 once, but if your honour can have patience 
 with him, I do believe there is that in him 
 which can be turned to good. If he only
 
 VII THE ENVOY 113 
 
 can believe in the better nature and hiofher 
 guidings, and pray, and not give himself up 
 in despair.' She had tears in her eyes. 
 
 ' My good madam, I can believe it all,' 
 said Sir Peregrine. ' Short of being sup- 
 posed an elf, I have gone through the same, 
 and it was not my good father's fault that I 
 did not loathe the very name of preaching 
 or prayer. But I had a mother who knew 
 how to deal with me, whereas this poor 
 child's mother, I am sure, believes in her 
 secret heart that he is none of hers, though 
 she has enough sense not to dare to avow it. 
 Alas ! I cannot give the boy the woman's 
 tending by which you have already wrought 
 so much,' and Mrs. Woodford remembered 
 to have heard that his wife had died at 
 Rotterdam, ' but I can treat him like a human 
 being, I hope indeed as a son ; and, at any 
 rate, there will be no one to remind him of 
 these old wives' tales.' 
 
 ' I can only say that I am heartily re- 
 joiced,' said Mrs. Woodford. 
 
 So Peregrine was summoned, and shambled 
 up, his eyes showing that he expected a try- 
 ing interview, and, moreover, with a certain 
 
 VOL. I I
 
 114 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 twinkle of mischief or perverseness in their 
 corners. 
 
 ' Soh ! my lad, we ought to be better 
 acquainted,' said the uncle. ' D'ye know 
 what our name means ? ' 
 
 ' PeregriiiMS, a vagabond,' responded the 
 
 boy. 
 
 ' Eh ! The translation may be correct, 
 but 'tis scarce the most complimentary. I 
 wonder now if you, like me, were born on a 
 Wednesday. "Wednesday's child has far to 
 
 go. 
 
 ' No. I was born on a Sunday, and if to 
 
 see goblins and oafs ' 
 
 'Nay, I read it, " Sunday's child is full of 
 grace. 
 
 Peregrine's mouth twitched ironically, but 
 his uncle continued, ' Look you, my boy, what 
 say you to fulfilling the augury of your name 
 with me. His Majesty has ordered me off 
 again to represent the British name to the 
 Elector of Brandenburg, and I have a mind 
 to carry you with me. What do you say ? ' 
 
 If any one expected Peregrine to be over- 
 joyed his demeanour was disappointing. He 
 shuffled with his feet, and after two or three
 
 VII THE ENVOY 115 
 
 ' Ehs ? ' from his uncle, he mumbled, ' I don't 
 care,' and then shrank together, as one pre- 
 pared for the stripe with the riding -whip 
 which such a rude answer merited : but his 
 uncle had, as a diplomate, learnt a good deal 
 of patience, and he said, ' Ha! don't care to 
 leave home and brothers. Eh ?' 
 
 Peregrine's chin went down, and there 
 was no answer ; his hair dropped over his 
 heavy brow. 
 
 ' See, boy, this is no jest,' said his uncle. 
 'You are too big to be told that "I'll put 
 you into my pocket and carry you off." I 
 am in earnest.' 
 
 Peregrine looked up, and with one sudden 
 flash surveyed his uncle. His lips trembled, 
 but he did not speak. 
 
 ' It is sudden,' said the knight to the other 
 two. ' See, boy, I am not about to take you 
 away with me now. In a week or ten days' 
 time I start for London ; and there we will 
 fit you out for Konigsberg or Berlin, and I 
 trust we shall make a man of you, and a 
 good man. Your tutor tells me you have 
 excellent parts, and I mean that you shall 
 do me credit.'
 
 ii6 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 Dr. Woodford could not help telling the 
 lad that he ou2:ht to thank his uncle, whereat 
 he scowled ; but Sir Peregrine said, ' He is 
 not ready for that yet. Wait till he feels he 
 has something to thank me for.' 
 
 So Peregrine was dismissed, and his 
 friends exclaimed with some wonder and 
 annoyance that the boy who had been will- 
 ing to be decapitated to put an end to his 
 wretchedness, should be so reluctant to accept 
 such an offer, but Sir Peregrine only laughed, 
 and said — 
 
 ' The lad has pith in him ! I like him 
 better than if he came like a spaniel to my 
 foot. But I will say no more till I fully have 
 my brother's consent. No one knows what 
 crooks there may be in folk's minds.' 
 
 He took his leave, and presently Mrs. 
 Woodford had a fresh surprise. She found 
 this strange boy lying flat on the grass, 
 sobbing as if his heart would break, and 
 when she tried to soothe and comfort him it 
 was very hard to get a word from him ; but 
 at last, as she asked, * And does it grieve you 
 so much to leave home ? ' the answer was — 
 
 ' No, no ! not home ! '
 
 VII THE ENVOY 117 
 
 ' What is it, then ? What are you sorry 
 to leave ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, yotc don't know ! you and Anne — the 
 only ones that ever were good to me — and 
 drove away — //.' 
 
 ' Nay, my dear boy. Your uncle means 
 to be good to you.' 
 
 ' No, no. No one ever will be like you 
 and Anne. Oh, let me stay with you, or 
 they will have me at last ! ' 
 
 He was too much shaken, in his still half- 
 recovered state, by the events of these last 
 days, to be reasoned with. Mrs. Woodford 
 was afraid he would work himself into 
 delirium, and could only soothe him into a 
 calmer state. She found from Anne that the 
 children had some vague hopes of his being 
 allowed to remain at Portchester, and that 
 this was the ground of his disappointment, 
 since he seemed to be attaching himself to 
 them as the first who had ever touched his 
 heart or opened to him a gleam of better 
 thinsfs. 
 
 By the next day, however, he was in a 
 quieter and more reasonable state, and Mrs. 
 Woodford was able to have a long talk with
 
 ii8 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 him. She represented that the difference of 
 opinions made it almost certain that his father 
 would never consent to his remaining under 
 her roof, and that even if this were possible, 
 Portchester was far too much infected with 
 the folly from which he had suffered so 
 much ; and his uncle would take care that no 
 one he would meet should ever hear of it. 
 
 ' There's little good in that,' said the boy 
 moodily. ' I'm a thing they'll jibe at and 
 bait any way,' 
 
 ' I do not see that, if you take pains with 
 yourself. Your uncle said you showed blood 
 and breeding, and when you are better 
 dressed, and with him, no one will dare to 
 mock his Excellency's nephew. Depend 
 upon it. Peregrine, this is the fresh start that 
 you need.' 
 
 ' If you were there ' 
 
 ' My boy, you must not ask for what is 
 impossible. You must learn to conquer in 
 God's strength, not mine,' 
 
 All, however, that passed may not here be 
 narrated, and it apparently left that wayward 
 spirit unconvinced. Nevertheless, when on 
 the second day Major Oakshott himself came
 
 VII THE ENVOY 119 
 
 over with his brother, and informed Pere- 
 grine that his uncle was good enough to 
 undertake the charge of him, and to see that 
 he was bred up in godly ways in a Protestant 
 land, free from prelacy and superstition, the 
 boy seemed reconciled to his fate. Major 
 Oakshott spoke more kindly than usual to 
 him, being free from fresh irritation at his 
 misdemeanours ; but even thus there was a 
 contrast with the gentler, more persuasive 
 tones of the diplomatist, and no doubt this 
 tended to increase Peregrine's willingness to 
 be thus handed over. 
 
 The next question was whether he should 
 go home first, but both the uncle and the 
 friends were averse to his remaining there, 
 amid the unavoidable gossip and chatter of 
 the household, and it was therefore decided 
 that he should only ride over with Dr. 
 Woodford for an hour or two to take leave of 
 his mother and brothers. 
 
 This settled, Mrs. Woodford found him 
 much easier to deal with. He had really, 
 through his midnight invocation of the fairies, 
 obtained an opening into a new world, and 
 he was ready to believe that with no one to
 
 I20 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 twit him with being a changeHng or worse, 
 he could avoid perpetual disgrace and punish- 
 ment and live at peace. Nor was he unwill- 
 ing to promise Mrs. Woodford to say daily, 
 and especially when tempted, one or two 
 brief collects and ejaculations which she 
 selected to teach him, as being as unlike as 
 possible to the long extempore exercises 
 which had made him hate the very name of 
 prayer. The Doctor gave him a Greek 
 Testament, as being least connected with 
 unpleasant recollections. 
 
 'And,' entreated Peregrine humbly, in a 
 low voice to Mrs. Woodford on his last Sun- 
 day evening, ' may I not have something of 
 yours, to lay hold of, and remember you if — 
 when — the evil spirit tries to lay hold of me 
 again ?' 
 
 She would fain have given him a prayer- 
 book, but she knew that would be treason to 
 his father, and with tears in her eyes and 
 something of a pang, she gave him a tiny 
 miniature of herself, which had been her 
 husband's companion at sea, and hung it 
 round his neck with the chain of her own 
 hair that had always held it.
 
 VII THE ENVOY 121 
 
 ' It will always keep my heart warm,' said 
 Peregrine, as he hid it under his vest. There 
 was a shade of disappointment on Anne's face 
 when he showed it to her, for she had almost 
 deemed it her own. 
 
 'Never mind, Anne,' he said; 'I'm com- 
 ing back a knight like my uncle to marry you, 
 and then it will be yours again.' 
 
 'I — I'm not going to wed )ou — I have 
 another sweetheart,' added Anne in haste, 
 lest. he should think she scorned him. 
 
 ' Oh, that lubberly Charles Archfield ! No 
 fear of him. He is promised long ago to some 
 little babe of quality in London. You may 
 whistle for him. So you'd better wait for me.' 
 
 ' It is not true. You only say it to plague 
 me.' 
 
 ' It's as true as Gospel ! I heard Sir 
 Philip telling one of the big black gowns one 
 day in the Close, when I was sitting up in a 
 tree overhead, how they had fixed a marriage 
 between his son and his old friend's daughter, 
 who would have ever so many estates. So 
 I'd give that' — snapping his fingers — 'for 
 your chances of being my Lady Archfield in 
 the salt mud at Fareham.'
 
 122 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 ' I shall ask Lucy. It is not kind of you, 
 Perry, when you are just going away.' 
 
 ' Come, come, don't cry, Anne.' 
 
 ' But I knew Charley ever so long first, 
 and ' 
 
 ' Oh yes. Maids always like straight, 
 comely, dull fellows, I know that. But as 
 you can't have Charles Archfield, I mean to 
 have you, Anne — for I shall look to you as 
 the only one as can ever make a good man 
 of me ! Ay — your mother — I'd wed her if I 
 could, but as I can't, I mean to have you, 
 Anne Woodford.' 
 
 ' I don't mean to have you ! I shall go to 
 Court, and marry some noble earl or gentle- 
 man ! Why do you laugh and make that 
 face, Peregrine ? you know my father was 
 almost a knight ' 
 
 ' Nobody is long with you without know- 
 ing that!' retorted Peregrine ; 'but a miss is 
 as good as a mile, and you will find the earls 
 and the lords will think so, and be fain to take 
 the crooked stick at last!' 
 
 Mistress Anne tossed her head — and 
 Peregrine returned a grimace. Neverthe- 
 less they parted with a kiss, and for some
 
 VII THE ENVOY 123 
 
 time the thought of Peregrine haunted the 
 little girl with a strange, fateful feeling, be- 
 tween aversion and attraction, which wore 
 off, as a folly of her childhood, with her 
 growth in years.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE RETURN 
 
 ' I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose 
 in France, his bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour every- 
 where.' — Merchant of Venice. 
 
 It was autumn, but in the year 1687, when 
 again Lucy Archfield and Anne Jacobina 
 Woodford were pacing the broad gravel walk 
 along the south side of the nave of Winches- 
 ter Cathedral. Lucy, in spite of her brocade 
 skirt and handsome gown of blue velvet 
 tucked up over it, was still devoid of any look 
 of distinction, but was a round-faced, bloom- 
 ing, cheerful maiden, of that ladylike thor- 
 oughly countrified type happily frequent in 
 English girlhood throughout all time. 
 
 Anne, or Jacobina, as she tried to be 
 called, towered above her head, and had 
 never lost that tincture of courtly grace that
 
 CHAP. VIII THE RETURN 125 
 
 early breeding- had given her, and though her 
 skirt was of gray wool, and the upper gown 
 of cherry tabinet, she wore both with an air 
 that made them seem more choice and stylish 
 than those of her companion, while the simple 
 braids and curls of her brown hair set off an 
 unusually handsome face, pale and clear in 
 complexion, with regular features, fine arched 
 eyebrows over clear brown eyes, a short chin, 
 and a mouth of perfect outline, but capable of 
 looking very resolute. 
 
 Altogether she looked fit for a Court 
 atmosphere, and perhaps she was not with- 
 out hopes of it, for Dr. Woodford had become 
 a royal chaplain under Charles II, and was 
 now continued in the same office ; and though 
 this was a sinecure as regarded the present 
 King, yet Tory and High Church views 
 were as much in the ascendant as they could 
 be under a Romanist king, and there were 
 hopes of a canonry at Windsor or West- 
 minster, or even higher preferment still, if he 
 were not reckoned too staunch an Anq^lican. 
 That Mrs. Woodford's health had been fail- 
 ing for many months past would, her sanguine 
 daughter thought, be remedied by being
 
 126 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 nearer the best physicians in London, which 
 had been quitted with regret. Meantime 
 Lucy's first experiences of wedding festivities 
 were to be heard. For the Archfield family 
 had just returned from celebrating the mar- 
 riage of the heir. Long ago Anne Jacobina 
 had learnt to reckon Master Charles's pledges 
 of affection among the sports and follies of 
 childhood, and the strange sense of disap- 
 pointment and shame with which she recol- 
 lected them had perhaps added to her natural 
 reserve, and made her feel it due to maidenly 
 dignity to listen with zest to the account of 
 the bride, who was to be brought to supper 
 at Dr. Woodford's that eve. 
 
 'She is a pretty little thing,' said Lucy; 
 ' but my mother was much concerned to find 
 her so mere a child, and would not, if she 
 had seen her, have consented to the marriage 
 for two years to come, except for the sake of 
 having her in our own hands.' 
 
 ' 1 thought she was sixteen.' 
 
 ' Barely fifteen, my dear, and far younger 
 than we were at that ao-e. She cried because 
 her woman said she must leave her old doll 
 behind her ; and when my brother declared
 
 viii THE RETURN 127 
 
 that she should have anything she hked, she 
 danced about, and kissed him, and made him 
 kiss its wooden face with half the paint 
 rubbed off.' 
 
 'He did?' 
 
 ' Oh yes ! She is like a pretty fresh play- 
 thing to him, and they go about together just 
 like big Towzer and little Frisk at home. 
 He is very much amused with her, and she 
 thinks him the finest possession that ever 
 came in her way.' 
 
 ' Well, so he is.' 
 
 ' That is true ; but somehow it is scarcely 
 like husband and wife ; and my mother fears 
 that she may be sickly, for she is so small and 
 slight that it seems as if you could blow her 
 away, and so white that you would think she 
 had no blood, except when a little heat brings 
 the purest rose colour to her cheek, and that, 
 my lady says, betokens weakliness. You 
 know, of course, that she is an orphan ; her 
 father died of a wasting consumption, and her 
 mother not long after, when she was a year- 
 ling babe. It was her grandfather who was 
 my father's friend in the old cavalier days, 
 and wrote to propose the contract to my
 
 128 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 brother not long before his death, when she 
 was but five years old. The pity was that 
 she was not sent to us at once, for the old 
 lord, her grand-uncle, never heeded or cared 
 for her, but left her to servants, who petted 
 her, but understood nothing of care of her 
 health or her education, so that the only 
 wonder is that she is alive or so sweet and 
 winning as she is. She can hardly read with- 
 out spelling, and I had to make copies for 
 her of Alice Fitzhubert, to show her how to 
 siQ:n the book. All she knew she learnt from 
 the old steward, and only when she liked. 
 My father laughs and is amused, but my 
 lady sighs, and hopes her portion is not dearly 
 bought.' 
 
 ' Is not she to be a great heiress ?' 
 
 ' Not of the bulk of the lands — they go 
 to heirs male ; but there is much besides, 
 enough to make Charles a richer man than 
 our father. I wonder what you will think 
 of her. My mother is longing to talk her 
 over with Mrs. Woodford.' 
 
 ' And my mother is longing to see my 
 lady. ' 
 
 ' I fear she is still but poorly.'
 
 VIII THE RETURN 129 
 
 ' We think she will be much better when 
 we get home,' said Anne. ' I am sure she 
 is stronofer, for she walked round the Close 
 yesterday, and was scarcely tired.' 
 
 ' But tell me, Anne, is it true that poor 
 Master Oliver Oakshott is dead of small- 
 pox ?' 
 
 ' Quite true. Poor young gendeman, he 
 was to have married that cousin of his mother's, 
 Mistress Martha Browning, living at Ems- 
 worth. She came on a visit, and they think 
 she brought the infection, for she sickened 
 at once, and though she had it favourably, is 
 much disfigured. Master Oliver caught it 
 and died in three davs, and all the house 
 were down with it. They say poor Mrs. 
 Oakshott foreot her ailments and went to 
 and fro among them all. My mother would 
 have gone to help in their need if she had 
 been as well as she used to be.' 
 
 ' How is it with the other son ? He was 
 a personable youth enough. I saw him at 
 the ship launch in the spring, and thought 
 both lads would fain have staid for the dance 
 on board but for their grim old father.' 
 
 'You saw Robert, but he is not the elder.' 
 
 VOL. I K
 
 I30 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 'What? Is that shocking impish urchin 
 whom we used to call Riquet with the tuft, 
 older than he ?' 
 
 'Certainly he is. He writes from time to 
 time to my mother, and seems to be doing 
 well with his uncle.' 
 
 ' I cannot believe he would come to good. 
 Do you remember his sending my brother 
 and cousin adrift in the boat ?' 
 
 ' I think that was in great part the fault 
 of your cousin for mocking and tormenting 
 him.' 
 
 ' Sedley Archfield was a bad boy ! There's 
 no denying that. I am afraid he had good 
 reason for running away from college.' 
 
 ' Have you heard of him since ?' 
 
 'Yes ; he has been serving with the Life- 
 guards in Scotland, and mayhap he will come 
 home and see us. My father wishes to see 
 whether he is worthy to have a troop pro- 
 cured by money or favour for him, and if 
 they are recalled to the camp at November 
 it will be an opportunity. But see — who is 
 coming through the Slype ?' 
 
 ' My uncle. And who is with him ?' 
 
 Dr. Woodford advanced, and with him a
 
 VIII THE RETURN 131 
 
 small slender figure in black. As the broad 
 hat with sable plume was doffed with a sweep 
 on approaching the ladies, a dark head and 
 peculiar countenance appeared, while the 
 Doctor said, ' Here is an old acquaintance, 
 young ladies, whom I met dismounting at 
 the White Hart, and have brought home 
 with me.' 
 
 ' Mr. Pereo^rine Oakshott ! ' exclaimed 
 Anne, feeling bound to offer in welcome 
 a hand, which he kissed after the custom of 
 the day, while Lucy dropped a low and formal 
 courtesy, and being already close to the gate 
 of the house occupied by her family, took 
 her leave till supper-time. 
 
 Even in the few steps before reaching 
 home Anne was able to perceive that a being 
 very unlike the imp of seven years ago had 
 returned, though still short in stature and 
 very slight, with long dark hair hanging 
 straight enough to suggest elf-locks, but his 
 figure was well proportioned, and had a 
 finished air of high breeding and training. 
 His riding suit was point device, from the 
 ostrich feather in his hat, to the toes of his 
 well-made boots, and his sword knew its
 
 133 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 place, as well as did those of the gentlemen 
 that Anne remembered at the Duke of York's 
 when she was a little child. His thin, marked 
 face was the reverse of handsome, but it was 
 keen, shrewd, perhaps satirical, and the re- 
 markable eyes were very bright under dark 
 eyebrows and lashes, and the thin lips, 
 devoid of hair, showed fine white teeth 
 when parted by a smile of gladness — at 
 the meeting — though he w^as concerned 
 to hear that Mrs. Woodford had been very 
 ill all the last spring, and had by no means 
 reorained her former health, and even in the 
 few words that passed it might be gathered 
 that Anne was far more hopeful than her 
 uncle. 
 
 She did indeed look greatly changed, 
 though her countenance was sweeter than 
 ever, as she rose from her seat by the fire 
 and held out her arms to receive the new- 
 comer with a motherly embrace, while the 
 expression of joy and affection was such as 
 could never once have seemed likely to sit 
 on Peregrine Oakshott's features. They 
 were left together, for Anne had the final 
 touches to put to the supper, and Dr. Wood-
 
 VIII THE RETURN 133 
 
 ford was sent for to speak to one of the 
 Cathedral staff. 
 
 Peregrine explained that he was on his 
 way home, his father having recalled him on 
 his brother's death, but he hoped soon to 
 rejoin his uncle, whose secretary he now was. 
 They had been for the last few months in 
 London, and were thence to be sent on an 
 emxbassy to the young Czar of Muscovy, an 
 expedition to which he looked forward with 
 eager curiosity. Mrs. Woodford hoped that 
 all danger of infection at Oakwood was at 
 an end. 
 
 ' There is none for me, madam,' he said, 
 with a curious writhed smile. ' Did you not 
 know that they thought they were rid of me 
 when I took the disease at seven years 
 old, and lay in the loft over the hen-house 
 with Molly Owens to tend me ? and I 
 believe it was thought to be fairy work 
 that I came out of it no more unsightly than 
 before.' 
 
 ' You are seeking for compliments, Pere- 
 grine ; you are greatly improved.' 
 
 ' Crooked sticks can be pruned and trained,' 
 he responded, with a courteous bow.
 
 134 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 ' You are a travelled man. Let me see, 
 how many countries have you seen ?' 
 
 * A year at Berlin and Konigsberg — strange 
 places enough, specially the last, two among 
 the scholars and high roofs of Leyden, half 
 a year at Versailles and Paris, another year 
 at Turin, whence back for another half year 
 to wait on old King Louis, then to the 
 Hague, and the last three months at Court. 
 Not much like buying and selling cows, or 
 growing wheat on the slopes, or lying out on 
 a cold winter's night to shoot a few wild fowl ; 
 and I have you to thank for it, my first and 
 best friend ! ' 
 
 ' Nay, your uncle is surely your best' 
 
 ' Never would he have picked up the poor 
 crooked stick save for you, madam. More- 
 over, you gave me my talisman,' and he laid 
 his hand on his breast ; ' it is your face that 
 speaks to me and calls me back when the 
 elf, or whatever it is, has got the mastery 
 of me.' 
 
 Somewhat startled, Mrs. Woodford would 
 have asked what he meant, but that intelli- 
 gence was brought that Mr, Oakshott's man 
 had brought his mail, so that he had to repair
 
 VIII THE RETURN 
 
 |J»3 
 
 to his room. Mrs. Woodford had kept up 
 some correspondence with him, for which his 
 uncle's position as envoy afforded unusual 
 facilities, and she knew that on the whole he 
 had been a very different being from what he 
 was at home. Once, indeed, his uncle had 
 written to the Doctor to express his full 
 satisfaction in the lad, on whom he seemed 
 to look like a son, but from some subsequent 
 letters she had an impression that he had 
 got into trouble of some sort while at the 
 University of Leyden, and she was afraid 
 that she must accept the belief that the wild 
 elfish spirit, as he called it, was by no means 
 extinct in him, any more, she said to herself, 
 than temptation is in any human creature. 
 The question is, What is there to contend 
 therewith ? 
 
 The guests were, however, about to as- 
 semble. The Doctor, in black velvet cap 
 and stately silken cassock, sash, and gown, 
 sailed down to receive them, and again 
 greeted Peregrine, who emerged in black 
 velvet and satin, delicate muslin cravat and 
 cuffs, dainty silk stockings and rosetted shoes, 
 in a style such as made the far taller and
 
 136 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 handsomer Charles Archfield, in spite of gay 
 scarlet coat, embroidered flowery vest, rich 
 laced cravat, and thick shining- brown curls, 
 look a mere big schoolboy, almost bumpkin- 
 like In contrast. However, no one did look 
 at anything but the little creature who could 
 just reach to hang upon that resplendent 
 bridegroom's arm. She was in glistening 
 white brocade, too stiff and cumbrous for so 
 tiny a figure, yet together with the diamonds 
 glistening on her head and breast giving her 
 the likeness of a fairy queen. The whiteness 
 was almost startling, for the neck and arms 
 were like pearl in tint, the hair flowing in 
 full curls on her shoulders was like shining 
 flax or pale silk just unwound from the 
 cocoon, and the only relief of colour was the 
 deep blue of the eyes, the delicate tint of the 
 lips, and the tender rosy flush that was called 
 up by her presentation to her hosts by stout 
 old Sir Philip, In plum-coloured coat and full- 
 bottomed wig, though she did not blush half 
 as much as the husband of nineteen In his 
 new character. Indeed, had it not been for 
 her childish prettlness, her giggle would have 
 been unpleasing to more than Lady Arch-
 
 VIII THE RETURN 137 
 
 field, who, broad and matronly, gave a courtesy 
 and critical glance at Peregrine before subsid- 
 ing into a seat beside Mrs. Woodford. 
 
 Lucy stood among a few other young 
 people from the Close, watching for Anne, 
 who came in, trim and bright, though still 
 somewhat reddened in face and arms from 
 her last attentions to the supper — an elaborate 
 meal on such occasions, though lighter than 
 the mid-day repast. There were standing 
 pies of game, lobster and oyster patties, 
 creams, jellies, and other confections, on 
 which Sir Philip and his lady highly compli- 
 mented Anne, who had been engaged on them 
 for at least a couple of days, her mother being 
 no longer able to assist except by advice. 
 
 ' See, daughter Alice, you will learn one 
 day to build up a jelly as well as to eat it,' 
 said Sir Philip good-humouredly, whereat the 
 small lady pouted a little and said— 
 
 ' Bet lets me make shapes of the dough, 
 but I won't stir the pans and get to look like 
 a turkey-cock.' 
 
 ' Ah, ha ! and you have always done what 
 you liked, my little madam V 
 
 'Of course, sir! and so 1 shall,' she
 
 138 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 answered, drawing up her pretty little head, 
 while Lady Archfield gave hers a boding 
 shake. 
 
 ' Time, and life, and wifehood teach 
 lessons,' murmured Mrs. Woodford in consola- 
 tion, and the Doctor changed the subject by 
 asking Peregrine whether the ladies abroad 
 were given to housewifery, 
 
 ' The German dames make a great ado 
 about their Wirthschaft, as they call it,' was 
 the reply, ' but as to the result ! Pah ! I 
 know not how we should have fared had not 
 Hans, my uncle's black, been an excellent 
 cook ; but it was in Paris that we were ex- 
 quisitely regaled, and our maitre d' hotel would 
 discourse on rao-oilts and entremets till one 
 felt as if his were the first of the sciences,' 
 
 ' So it is to a Frenchman,' growled Sir 
 Philip, ' French and Frenchifications are all 
 the rage nowadays, but what will your father 
 say to your science, my young spark ?' 
 
 The gesture of head and shoulder that 
 replied had certainly been caught at Paris. 
 Mrs, Woodford rushed into the breach, asking 
 about the Princess of Orange, whom she had 
 often seen as a child.
 
 VIII THE RETURN 139 
 
 * A Stately and sightly dame is she, madam,' 
 Peregrine answered, ' towerinL;' high above 
 her Httle mynheer, who outwardly excels her 
 in nauofht save the lenofth of nose, and has 
 the manners of a boor.' 
 
 ' The Prince of Orange is the hope of the 
 country,' said Sir Philip severely. 
 
 Peregrine's face wore a queer satirical 
 look, which provoked Sir Philip into saying, 
 ' Speak up, sir ! what d'ye mean ? We don't 
 understand French grins here.' 
 
 * Nor does he, nor French courtesies either,' 
 said Peregrine. 
 
 'So much the better!' exclaimed the 
 baronet. 
 
 Here the little clear voice broke in, 'O 
 Mr. Oakshott, if I had but known you were 
 coming, you might have brought me a French 
 doll in the latest fashion.' 
 
 ' I should have been most happy, madam,' 
 returned Peregrine ; ' but unfortunately I am 
 six months from Paris, and besides, his honour 
 might object lest a French doll should con- 
 taminate the Dutch puppets.' 
 
 ' But oh, sir, is it true that French dolls 
 have real hair that will curl V
 
 I40 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 ' Don't be foolish,' muttered Charles 
 impatiently ; and she drew up her head and 
 made an indescribably droll 7noue of disgust 
 at him. 
 
 Supper ended, the party broke up into old 
 and young, the two elder gentlemen sadly 
 discussing politics over their tall glasses of 
 wine, the matrons talking over the wedding 
 and Lady Archfield's stay in London at the 
 parlour fire, and the young folk in a window, 
 waiting for the fiddler and a few more of the 
 young people who were to join them in the 
 dance. 
 
 The Archfield ladies had kissed the hand 
 of the Queen, and agreed with Peregrine in 
 admiration of her beauty and grace, though 
 they did not go so far as he did, especially 
 when he declared that her eyes were as soft 
 as Mistress Anne's, and nearly of the same 
 exquisite brown, which made the damsel 
 blush and experience a revival of the old 
 feeling of her childhood, as if he put her under 
 a spell. 
 
 He went on to say that he had had the 
 good fortune to pick up and restore to Queen 
 Mary Beatrice a gold and coral rosary which
 
 VIII THE RETURN 141 
 
 she had dropped on her way to St. James's 
 Palace from Whitehall. She thanked him 
 graciously, letting him kiss her hand, and 
 askincr him if he were of the true Church. 
 ' Imagine mv father's feelinc^s,' he added, 
 'when she said, "Ah! but you will be ere 
 long ; I give it you as a pledge.'" 
 
 He produced the rosary, handing it first 
 to Anne, who adniired the beautiful filigree 
 work, but it was almost snatched from her by 
 Mrs. Archfield, who wound it twice on her 
 tiny wrist, tried to get it over her head, and 
 did everything but ask for it, till her husband, 
 turning round, said roughly, ' Give it back, 
 madam. We want no Popish toys here.' 
 
 Lucy put in a hasty question whether 
 Master Oakshott had seen much sport, and 
 this led to a spirited description of the homely 
 earnest of wild boar hunting under the great 
 Elector of Brandenburg, in contrast with the 
 splendours of la cJiasse aux sangliers at 
 Fontainebleau with the green and gold 
 uniforms, the fanfares on the curled horns, 
 the ladies in their coaches, forced to attend 
 whether ill or well, the very boars themselves 
 too well bred not to conform to the sport of
 
 142 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 the great idol of France. And again, he 
 showed the diamond sleeve buttons, the 
 trophies of a sort of bazaar held at Marly, 
 where the stalls were kept by the Dauphin, 
 Monsieur, the Duke of Maine, Madame de 
 Maintenon, and the rest, where the purchases 
 were winnings at Ombre, made not with coin 
 but with nominal sums, and other games at 
 cards, and all was given away that was not 
 purchased. And again the levees, when the 
 King's wig was handed through the curtains 
 on a stick. Peregrine's profane mimicry of 
 the stately march of Louis Ouatorze, and the 
 cringing obeisances of his courtiers, together 
 with their strutting majesty towards their own 
 inferiors, convulsed all with merriment ; and 
 the bride shrieked out, ' Do it again ! Oh, I 
 shall die of laughing !' 
 
 It was very girlish, with a silvery ring, but 
 the elder ladies looked round, and the bride- 
 groom muttered ' Mountebank.' 
 
 The fiddler arrived at that moment, and 
 the young people paired off, the young couple 
 naturally together, and Peregrine, to the 
 surprise and perhaps discomfiture of more 
 than one visitor, securing Anne's hand. The
 
 VIII THE RETURN 143 
 
 young lady pupils of Madame knew their 
 steps, and Lucy danced correctly, Anne with 
 an easy, stately grace, Charles Archfield 
 performed his devoir seriously, his little wife 
 frisked with childish glee, evidently quite 
 untaught, but Peregrine's light narrow feet 
 sprang, pointed themselves, and bounded 
 with trained agility, set off by the tight black- 
 ness of his suit. He was like one of the 
 grotesque figures shaped in black paper, or as 
 Sir Philip, looking in from the dining-parlour, 
 observed, 'like a light-heeled French fop.' 
 
 As a rule partners retained one another all 
 the evening, but little Mrs. Archfield knew 
 no etiquette, and maybe her husband had 
 pushed and pulled her into place a little more 
 authoritatively than she quite approved, for 
 she shook him off, and turning round to 
 Peregrine exclaimed — 
 
 ' Now, I will dance with you ! You do 
 leap and hop so high and trippingly ! Never 
 mind her; she is only a parson's niece!' 
 
 ' Madam !' exclaimed Charles, in a tone of 
 surprised displeasure ; but she only nodded 
 archly at him, and said. ' I must dance with 
 him ; he can jump so high.'
 
 144 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 * Let her have her way,' whispered Lucy, 
 ' she is but a child, and it will be better not 
 to make a pother.' 
 
 He yielded, though with visible annoyance, 
 asking Anne if she would put up with a poor 
 deserted swain, and as he led her off mutter- 
 inpf, ' That fellow's friskiness is like to be 
 taken out of him at Oakwood.' 
 
 Meanwhile the small creature had taken 
 possession of her chosen partner, who, so far 
 as size went, was far better suited to her than 
 any of the other men present. They were 
 dancing something original and unpre- 
 meditated, with twirls and springs, sweeps 
 and bends, bounds and footings, just as the 
 little lady's fancy prompted, perhaps guided 
 in some degree by her partner's experience 
 of national dances. White and black, they 
 figured about, she with floating sheeny hair 
 and glistening robes, he trim and tight and 
 jetty, like fairy and imp ! It was so droll and 
 pretty that talkers and dancers alike paused 
 to watch them in a strange fascination, till at 
 last, quite breathless and pink as a moss rose- 
 bud, Alice dropped upon a chair near her 
 husband. He stood grim, stiff, and vexed,
 
 VIII THE RETURN 145 
 
 all the more because Peregrine had taken her 
 fan and was using it so as to make it wave 
 like butterfly's wings, while poor Charles 
 looked, as the Doctor whispered to his 
 father, far more inclined to lay it about her 
 ears. 
 
 Sir Philip laughed heartily, for both he 
 and the Doctor had been so much entranced 
 and amused as to be far more diverted at the 
 lad's discomfiture than scandalised at the 
 bride's escapade, which they viewed as child's 
 play.' 
 
 Perhaps, however, he was somewhat com- 
 forted by her later observation, * He is as 
 ugly as Old Nick, and looks like always 
 laughing at you ; but I wish you could dance 
 like him, INIr. Archfield, only then you 
 wouldn't be my dear old great big husband, or 
 so beautiful to look at. Oh yes, to be sure, 
 he is nothing but a skipjack such as one 
 makes out of a chicken bone !' 
 
 And Anne meanwhile was exclaimintr to 
 her mother, ' Oh. madam ! how could they do 
 such a thing ? How could they make poor 
 Charley marry that foolish ill-mannered little 
 creature ?' 
 
 VOL. I L
 
 146 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 ' Hush, daughter, you must drop that 
 childish name,' said Mrs. Woodford gravely. 
 
 Anne blushed. ' I forgot, madam, but I 
 am so sorry for him.' 
 
 ' There is no reason for uneasiness, my 
 dear. She is a mere child, and under such 
 hands as Ladv Archfield she is sure to 
 improve. It is far better that she should be 
 so young, as it will be the more easy to mould 
 her.' 
 
 ' I hope there is any stuff in her to be 
 moulded,' sighed the maiden. 
 
 ' My dear child,' returned her mother, * I 
 cannot permit you to talk in this manner. 
 Yes, I know Mr. Archfield has been as a 
 brother to you, but even his sister ought not 
 to allow herself to discuss or dwell on what 
 she deems the shortcomings of his wife.' 
 
 The mother in her prudence had silenced 
 the girl ; but none the less did each fall asleep 
 with a sad and foreboding heart. She knew 
 her child to be good and well-principled, but 
 those early days of notice and petting from 
 the young Princesses of the House of York 
 had never faded from the childish mind, and 
 although Anne was dutiful, cheerful, and
 
 VIII THE RETURN 147 
 
 outwardly contented, the mother often sus- 
 pected that over the spinning^- wheel or 
 embroidery frame she indulged in day dreams 
 of heroism, promotion, and grandeur, which 
 might either fade away in a happy life of 
 domestic duty or become temptations. 
 
 Before going away next morning Peregrine 
 entreated that Mistress Anne mio^ht have the 
 Queen's rosary, but her mother decidedly re- 
 fused. ' It ought to be an heirloom in your 
 family,' said she. 
 
 He threw up his hands with one of his 
 strange gestures.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 ON HIS TRAVELS 
 
 ' For Satan finds some mischief still 
 For idle hands to do.' 
 
 Isaac Watts. 
 
 Peregrine went off in good spirits, promising 
 a visit on his return to London, of which he 
 seemed to have no doubt ; but no more was 
 heard of him for ten days. At the end of 
 that time the Portsmouth carrier conveyed 
 the following note to Winchester: — 
 
 Honoured and Reverend Sir — Seven years since 
 your arguments and intercession induced my father to 
 consent to what I hoped had been the rescue of me, 
 body and soul. I know not whether to ask of your 
 goodness to make the same endeavour again. My 
 father declares that nothing shall induce him again to 
 let me go abroad with my uncle, and persists in declar- 
 ing that the compact has been broken by our visits to 
 Papist lands, nor will aught that I can say persuade him
 
 CHAP. IX ON HIS TRAVELS 149 
 
 that the Muscovite abhors the Pope quite as much as he 
 can. He likewise deems that having unfortunately be- 
 come his heir, I must needs remain at home to thin the 
 timber and watch the ploughmen ; and when I have 
 besought him to let me yield my place to Robert he 
 replies that I am playing the part of Esau. I have 
 written to my uncle, who has been a true father to me, 
 and would be loth to part from me for his own sake as 
 well as mine, but I know not whether he will be able to 
 prevail ; and I entreat of you, reverend sir, to add your 
 persuasions, for I well know that it would be my perdi- 
 tion to remain bound where I am. 
 
 Commend me to Mrs. Woodford and Mistress Anne. 
 I trust that the former is in better health. — I remain, 
 reverend sir. Your humble servant to command, 
 
 Peregrine Oakshott. 
 
 Given at Oakwood House, 
 
 This \oth of October 1687. 
 
 This was very bad news, but Dr. Wood- 
 ford knew not how to interfere ; moreover, 
 being in course at the Cathedral, he could not 
 absent himself long enough for an expedition 
 to Oakwood, through wintry roads in short 
 days. He could only write an encouraging 
 letter to the poor lad, and likewise one to Mr. 
 Horncastle, who under the Indulgence had a 
 chapel of his own. The Doctor had kept up 
 the acquaintance formed by Peregrine's acci- 
 dent, and had come to regard him with much
 
 ISO A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 esteem, and as likely to exercise a wholesome 
 influence upon his patron. Nothing more 
 was heard for a week, and then came another 
 visitor to the Doctor's door. Sir Peregrine 
 himself, on his way down, at considerable 
 inconvenience, to endeavour to prevail with 
 his brother to allow him to retain his nephew 
 in his suite. 
 
 ' Surely,' he said, ' my brother had enough 
 of camps in his youth to understand that his 
 son will be none the worse squire for having 
 gone a little beyond Hampshire bogs, and 
 learnt what the world is made of.' 
 
 ' I cannot tell,' said Dr. Woodford ; ' I 
 have my fears that he thinks the less known 
 of the world the better.' 
 
 ' That might answer with a heavy clod of 
 a lad such as the poor youth who is gone, and 
 such as, for his own sake and my brother's, I 
 trust the younger one is, friiges coiisttmei^e 
 natus ; but as for this boy, dulness and 
 vacancy are precisely what would be the ruin 
 of him. Let my brother keep Master Robert 
 at home, and give him Oakwood ; I will pro- 
 vide for Perry as I always promised to do.' 
 
 ' If he is wise he will accept the offer,' said
 
 i.\ ON HIS TRAVELS 151 
 
 Dr. Woodford ; ' but 'tis hard to be wise for 
 others.' 
 
 ' Nothing harder, sir. I would that I had 
 gone home with Perry, but mine audience of 
 his Majesty was fixed for the ensuing week, 
 and my brother's summons was peremptory.' 
 
 ' I trust your honour will prevail,' said Mrs. 
 Woodford gently. ' You have effected a 
 mighty change in the poor boy, and I can 
 well believe that he is as a son to you.' 
 
 'Well, madam, yes — as sons go,' said the 
 knight in a somewhat disappointing tone. 
 
 She looked at him anxiously, and ventured 
 to murmur a hope so very like an inquiry, 
 and so full of solicitous hope, that it actually 
 unlocked the envoy's reserve, and he said, 
 ' Ah, madam, you have been the best mother 
 that the poor youth has ever had ! I will 
 speak freely to you, for should I fail in over- 
 coming my brother's prejudices, you will be 
 able to do more for hini than any one else, 
 and I know you will be absolutely secret.' 
 
 Mrs. Woodford sighed, with forebodings 
 of not long being able to aid any one in this 
 world, but still she listened with earnest 
 interest and sympathy.
 
 152 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 ' Yes, madam, you implanted In him that 
 which yet may conquer his strange nature. 
 Your name is as it were a charm to conjure 
 up his better spirit.' 
 
 ' Of course,' she said, ' I never durst hope, 
 that he could be tamed and under control all 
 at once, but ' and she paused. 
 
 * He has improved — vastly improved,' said 
 the uncle. ' Indeed, when first I took him 
 with me, while he was still weak, and more- 
 over much overcome by sea-sickness, while 
 all was strange to him, and he was relieved 
 by not finding himself treated as an outcast, 
 I verily thought him meeker than other 
 urchins, and that the outcry against him was 
 unmerited. But no sooner had we got to 
 Berlin, and while I was as yet too busy to 
 provide either masters or occupations for my 
 young gentleman, than he did indeed make 
 me feel that I had charge of a young imp, 
 and that if I did not watch the better, it 
 might be a case of war with his Spanish 
 Majesty. For would you believe it, his 
 envoy's gardens joined ours, and what must 
 my young master do, but sit atop of our wall, 
 making;' orrimaces at the dons and donnas as
 
 IX ON HIS TRAVELS 153 
 
 they paced the walks, and pelting them from 
 time to time with walnuts. Well, I was 
 mindful of your counsel, and did not flog him, 
 nor let my chaplain do so, though I know the 
 good man's fingers itched to be at him ; but 
 I reasoned witli him on the harm he was 
 doing me, and would you believe it, the poor 
 lad burst into tears, and implored me to give 
 him something to do, to save him from his 
 own spirit. I set him to write out and tran- 
 slate a long roll of Latin despatches sent up 
 by that pedant Court in Hungary, and I 
 declare to you I had no more trouble with 
 him till next he was left idle. I gave him 
 tutors, and he studied with fervour, and made 
 progress at which they were amazed. He 
 learnt the High Dutch faster than any other 
 of my people, and could soon jabber away in 
 it with the best of the Elector's folk, and I 
 began to think I had a nephew who would 
 do me no small credit. I sent him to perfect 
 his studies at Leyden, but shall I confess it 
 to you ? it was to find that no master nor 
 discipline could keep him out of the riotings 
 and quarrels of the worse sort of students. 
 Nay, I found him laid by with a rapier thrust
 
 154 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 in the side from a duel, for no better cause 
 than biting his thumb at a Scots law student 
 in chapel, his apology being that to sit 
 through a Dutch sermon drove him crazy. 
 'Tis not that he is not trustworthy. Find 
 employment for the restless demon that is in 
 him, and all is well with him ; moreover, he 
 is full of wit and humour, and beguiles a long 
 journey or tedious evening at an inn better 
 than any comrade I ever knew, extracting 
 mirth from all around, even the very discom- 
 forts, and searching to the quick all that is to 
 be seen. But if left to himself, the restless 
 demon that preys on him is sure to set him 
 to something incalculable. At Turin it set 
 him to scraping acquaintance with a Capuchin 
 friar, a dirty rogue whom I would have kept 
 on the opposite side of the street. That was 
 his graver mood ; but what more must he do, 
 but borrow or steal, I know not how, the 
 ghastly robes of the Confraternity of Death 
 — the white garb and peaked cap with two 
 holes for the eyes, wherewith men of all 
 degrees disguise themselves while doing the 
 pious work of bearing the dead to the grave. 
 None suspected him, for the disguise is com-
 
 IX ON HIS TRA VELS 
 
 '33 
 
 plete, and a duke may walk unknown beside 
 a water-carrier, bearing the corpse of a 
 cobbler. All would have been well, but that 
 at the very brink of the grave the boy's fiend 
 — 'tis his own word — impelled him to break 
 forth into his wild ''Ho! ho! ho!" with an 
 eldritch shriek, and slipping out of his cere- 
 ments, dash off headlong over the wall of the 
 cemetery. He was not followed. I believe 
 the poor body belonged to a fellow whose 
 salvation was more than doubtful in spite of 
 all the priests could do, and that the bearers 
 really took him for the foul fiend. It was 
 not till a week or two after that the rino: of 
 his voice and laugh caused him to be recog- 
 nised by one of the Duke of Savoy's gentle- 
 men, happily a prudent man, loth to cause 
 a tumult against one of my suite, and he told 
 me all privately in warning. Ay, and when 
 I spoke to Peregrine, I found him thoroughly 
 penitent at having insulted the dead ; he had 
 been unhappy ever since, and had actually 
 bestowed his last pocket-piece on the widow. 
 He made handsome apologies in good Italian, 
 which he had picked up as fast as the German, 
 to the gentleman, who promised that it should
 
 156 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 go no farther, and kept his word. It was 
 the solemnity, Peregrine assured me, that 
 brought back all the intolerableness of the 
 preachings at home, and awoke the same 
 demon.' 
 
 ' How long ago was this, sir ?' 
 
 'About eighteen months.' 
 
 ' And has all been well since V 
 ' ' Fairly well. He has had fuller and more 
 responsible work to do for me, his turn for 
 languages making him a most valuable secret- 
 ary ; and in the French Court, really the 
 most perilous of all to a young man's virtue, 
 he behaved himself well. It is not debauchery 
 that he has a taste for, but he must be doing 
 something, and if wholesome occupations do 
 not stay his appetite, he will be doing mis- 
 chief He brought on himself a very serious 
 rebuke from the Prince of Orange, churlishly 
 and roughly given, I allow, but fully merited, 
 for making grimaces at his acquaintance 
 among the young officers at a military in- 
 spection. Heaven help the lad if he be left 
 with his father, whose most lively notion of 
 innocent sport is scratching the heads of his 
 hogs ! '
 
 IX ON HIS TRAVELS 157 
 
 Nothino; could be said in answer save 
 earnest wishes that the knight might persuade 
 his brother. Mrs. Woodford wished her 
 brother-in-law to go with him to add force to 
 his remonstrance ; but on the whole it was 
 thought better to leave the family to them- 
 selves, Dr. Woodford only writing to Major 
 Oakshott, as well as to the youth himself. 
 
 The result was anxiously watched for, and 
 in another week, earlier in the day than Mrs. 
 Woodford was able to leave her room, Sir 
 Peregrine's horses stopped at the door, and 
 as Anne ascertained by a peep from the 
 window, he was only accompanied by his 
 servants. 
 
 'Yes,' he said to the Doctor in his vexa- 
 tion, ' one would really think that by force of 
 eating Southdown mutton my poor brother 
 had acquired the brains of one of his own 
 rams ! I declare 'tis a piteous sight to see a 
 man resolute on ruininof his son and breakinof 
 his own heart all for conscience sake !' 
 
 * Say you so, sir ! I had hoped that the 
 sight of what you have made of your nephew 
 mio-ht have had some effect.' 
 
 ' All the effect it has produced is to make
 
 1 58 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 him more determined to take him from me. 
 The Hampshire mind abhors foreign breed- 
 ing, and the old CromwelHan spirit thinks 
 good manners sprung from the world, and 
 wit from the Evil One !' 
 
 ' I can quite believe that Peregrine's courtly 
 airs are not welcomed here ; I could see what 
 our good neighbour, Sir Philip Archfield, 
 thought of them ; but whereas no power on 
 earth could make the young gentleman a 
 steady-going clownish youth after his father's 
 heart, methought he might prefer his present 
 polish to impishness.' 
 
 ' So I told him, but I might as well have 
 talked to the horse block. It is his duty, 
 quotha, to breed his heir up in godly sim- 
 plicity !' 
 
 ' Simplicity is all very well to begin with, 
 but once flown, it cannot be restored.' 
 
 ' And that is what my brother cannot see. 
 Well, my poor boy must be left to his fate. 
 There is no help for it, and all I can hope is 
 that you, sir, and the ladies, will stand his 
 friend, and do what may lie in your power to 
 make him patient and render his life less 
 intolerable.'
 
 IX ON HIS TRAVELS 159 
 
 ' Indeed, sir, we will do what we can ; I 
 wish that I could hope that it would be of 
 much service.' 
 
 ' My brother has more respect for your 
 advice than perhaps you suppose ; and to 
 you, madam, the poor lad looks with earnest 
 gratitude. Nay, even his mother reaps the 
 benefit of the respect with which you have 
 inspired him. Peregrine treats her with a 
 gentleness and attention such as she never 
 knew before from her bear cubs. Poor soul ! 
 I think she likes it, though it somewhat per- 
 plexes her, and she thinks it all French 
 manners. There is one more favour, your 
 reverence, which I scarce dare lay before you. 
 You have seen my black boy Hans ? ' 
 
 ' He was with you at Oak wood seven 
 years ago.' 
 
 * Even so. I bought the poor fellow when 
 a mere child from a Dutch skipper who had 
 used him scurvily, and he has grown up as 
 faithful as a very spaniel, and mightily useful 
 too, not only as body servant, but he can 
 cook as well as any French viaitre dliotcL 
 froth chocolate, and make the best coffee I 
 ever tasted ; is as honest as the day, and, I
 
 i6o A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 believe, would lay down his life for Peregrine 
 or me. I shall be cruelly at a loss without 
 him, but a physician I met in London tells 
 me it would be no better than murder to take 
 the poor rogue to so cold a country as Mus- 
 covy. I would leave him to wait on Perry, 
 but they will not hear of it at Oakwood. My 
 sister-in-law wellnigh had a fit every time she 
 looked at him when I was there before, and 
 I found, moreover, that even when I was at 
 hand, the servants jeered at the poor blacka- 
 moor, gave him his meals apart, and only the 
 refuse of their own, so that he would fare but 
 ill if I left him to their mercy. I had thought 
 of offering him to Mr. Evelyn of Says Court, 
 who would no doubt use him well, but it was 
 Peregrine who suggested that if you of your 
 goodness would receive the poor fellow, they 
 could sometimes meet, and that would cheer 
 his heart, and he really is far from a useless 
 knave, but is worth two of any serving-men 
 I ever saw.' 
 
 To take an additional man-servant was by 
 no means such a great proposal as it would 
 be in most houses at present. Men swarmed 
 in much larger proportion than maids in all
 
 IX ON HIS TRAVELS i6i 
 
 families of condition, and the Doctor was 
 wealthy enough for one — more or less — to 
 make little difference, but the question was 
 asked as to what wages Hans should receive. 
 
 The knight laughed. ' Wages, poor lad, 
 what should he do with them ? He is but a 
 slave, I tell you. Meat, clothes, and fire, 
 that is all he needs, and I will so deal with 
 hini that he will serve you in all faithfulness 
 and obedience. He can speak English 
 enough to know what you bid him do, but 
 not enough for chatter with the servants.' 
 
 So the agreement was made, and poor 
 Hans was to be sent down by the Portsmouth 
 coach together with Peregrine's luggage. . 
 
 VOL. I M
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE MENAGERIE 
 
 ' The head remains unchanged within, 
 Nor altered much the face, 
 It still retains its native grin, 
 And all its old grimace. 
 
 ' Men with contempt the brute surveyed, 
 Nor would a name bestow, 
 But women liked the motley beast, 
 And called the thing a beau.' 
 
 The Mottkzes, Merrick. 
 
 The Woodford family did not long remain 
 at Winchester. Anne declared the cold to 
 be harming her mother, and became very 
 anxious to bring her to the milder sea breezes 
 of Portchester, and though Mrs. Woodford 
 had little expectation that any place would 
 make much difference to her, she was willing 
 to return to the quiet and repose of her home 
 under the castle walls beside the tranquil sea.
 
 CHAi'. X THE MENAGERIE 163 
 
 Thus they travelled back, as soon as the 
 Doctor's Residence was ended, plodding 
 through the heavy chalk roads as well as the 
 big horses could drag the cumbrous coach up 
 and down the hills, only halting for much 
 needed rest at Sir Philip Archfield's red 
 house, round three sides of a quadrangle, the 
 fourth with a low wall backed by a row ot 
 poplar- trees, looking out on the alternate 
 mud and sluGforish waters of Fareham creek, 
 but with a beautiful orarden behind the house. 
 
 The welcome was hearty. Lady Arch- 
 field at once conducted Mrs. Woodford to 
 her own bedroom, where she was to rest and 
 be served apart, and Anne disrobed her of 
 her wraps, covered her u[)on the bed, and at 
 her hostess's desire was explaining what re- 
 freshment would best suit her, when there 
 was a shrill voice at the door : ' I want Mis- 
 tress Anne ! I want to show her my clothes 
 and jewels.' 
 
 ' Coming, child, she is coming when she 
 has attended to her mother,' responded the 
 lady. ' White wine, or red, did you say, 
 Anne, and a little ginger ? ' 
 
 'Is she never coming?' was again the
 
 i64 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 call ; and Lady Archfield muttering, ' Was 
 there ever such an impatient poppet ? ' re- 
 leased Anne, who was instantly pounced 
 upon by young Mrs. Archfield. Linking 
 her arm into that of her visitor, and thrusting 
 Lucy into the background, the little heiress 
 proceeded to her own wainscotted bedroom, 
 bare according to modern views, but very 
 luxurious according to those of the seventeenth 
 century, and with the toilet apparatus, scanty 
 indeed, but of solid silver, and with a lavish 
 amount of perfumery. Her 'own w^oman ' 
 was in waiting to display and refold the 
 whole wedding wardrobe, brocade, satin, 
 taffetas, cambric, Valenciennes, and point 
 d'Alencon. Anne had to admire each in 
 detail, and then to give full meed to the 
 whole casket of jewels, numerous and dazzling 
 as befitted a constellation of heirlooms upon 
 one small head. They were beautiful, but it 
 was wearisome to repeat ' Vastly pretty ! ' 
 ' How exquisite ! ' ' That becomes you very 
 well,' almost mechanically, when Lucy was 
 standing about all the time, longing to ex- 
 change the girlish confidences that were 
 burning to come forth. 'Young Madam,' as
 
 X THE MENAGERIE 165 
 
 every one called her in those times when 
 Christian names were at a discount, seemed 
 to be jealous of attention to an)- one else, and 
 the instant she saw the guest attempt to con- 
 verse with her sister-in-law peremptorily in- 
 terrupted, almost as if affronted. 
 
 Perhaps if Anne had enjoyed freedom of 
 speech with l.ucy she would not have learnt 
 as much as did her mother, for the young- are 
 often more scrupulous as to confidences than 
 their seniors, who view them as still children, 
 and freely discuss their affairs among them- 
 selves. 
 
 So Lady Archfield poured out her troubles : 
 how her daughter-in-law refused employment, 
 and disdamed instruction in needlework, 
 housewifery, or any donicstic art. Ikjw she 
 jangled the spinnet, but would not learn 
 music, and was unoccupied, fretful, and ex- 
 actinof, a burthen to hersell and everv one 
 else, and treating Lucy as the slave of her 
 whims and humours. As to such discipline 
 as mothers-in-law were wont to exercise upon 
 voune wives, the least restraint or contradic- 
 tion provoked such a tempest ot passion as 
 to shake the tiny, delicate frame to a degree
 
 i66 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 that alarmed the c^ood old matron for the 
 consequences. Her health was a continual 
 difficulty, for her constitution was very frail, 
 every imprudence cost her suffering, and yet 
 any check to her impulses as to food, exertion, 
 or encountering weather was met by a spoilt 
 child's resentment. Moreover, her young 
 husband, and even his father, always thought 
 the ladies were hard upon her, and would not 
 have her vexed ; and as their presence always 
 brightened and restrained her, they never 
 understood the full amount of her petulance 
 and waywardness, and when they found her 
 out of spirits, or out of temper, they charged 
 all on her ailments or on want of consideration 
 from her mother and sister-in-law. 
 
 Poor Lady Archfield, it was trying for 
 her that her husband should be nearly as 
 blind as his son. The young husband was 
 wonderfully tender, indulgent, and patient 
 with the little creature, but it would not be 
 easy to say whether the affection were not a 
 good deal like that for his dog or his horse, 
 as something absolutely his own, with which 
 no one else had a rieht to interfere. It was 
 a relief to the family that she always wanted
 
 X THE MENAGERIE 167 
 
 to be out of doors with him whenever the 
 weather permitted, nay, often when it was far 
 from suitable to so fragile a being ; but if she 
 came home aching and crying ever so much 
 with chill or fatigue, even if she had to keep 
 her bed afterwards, she was equally deter- 
 mined to rush out as soon as she was up 
 again, and as angry as ever at remonstrance. 
 
 Charles was gone to try a horse ; and as 
 the remains of the effects of her last imprud- 
 ence had prevented her accompanying him, 
 the arrival of the guests had been a welcome 
 diversion to the monotony of the morning. 
 
 He was, however, at home again by the 
 time the dinner-bell summoned the younger 
 ladies from the inspection of the trinkets 
 and the gentlemen from the live stock, all 
 to sit round the heavy oaken table draped 
 with the whitest of napery, spun by Lady 
 Archfield in her maiden days, and loaded 
 with substantial joints, succeeded by deli- 
 cacies manufactured by herself and Lucy. 
 
 As to the horse, Charles was fairly satisfied, 
 but 'that fellow, young Oakshott, had been 
 after him, and had the refusal.' 
 
 ' Don't you be outbid, Mr. Archfield,'
 
 i68 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 exclaimed the wife. ' What is the matter of 
 a few guineas to us ? ' 
 
 'Little fear,' replied Charles. 'The old 
 Major is scarcely like to pay down twenty 
 gold caroluses, but if he should, the bay 
 is his.' 
 
 ' Oh, but why not offer thirty ? ' she cried. 
 
 Charles laughed. ' That would be a scurvy 
 trick, sweetheart, and if Peregrine be a crooked 
 stick, we need not be crooked too.' 
 
 ' I was about to ask,' said the Doctor, 
 * whether you had heard aught of that same 
 young gentleman.' 
 
 ' I have seen him where I never desire to 
 see him again,' said Sir Philip, 'riding as 
 though he would be the death of the poor 
 hounds.' 
 
 ' Nick Huntsman swears that he bewitches 
 them,' said Charles, ' for they always lose the 
 scent when he is in the field, but I believe 
 'tis the wry looks of him that throw them all 
 out.' 
 
 'And I say,' cried the inconsistent bride, 
 ' that 'tis all jealousy that puts the gentlemen 
 beside themselves, because none of them can 
 dance, nor make a bow, nor hand a cup of
 
 X THE MENAGERIE 169 
 
 chocolate, nor open a gate on horseback like 
 him.' 
 
 * What does a man on horseback want 
 with opening gates ?' exclaimed Charles. 
 
 ' That's your manners, sir,' said young 
 madam with a laugh. ' What's the poor 
 lady to do while her cavalier flies over and 
 leaves her in the lurch ? ' 
 
 Her husband did not like the fjeneral 
 laugh, and muttered, ' You know what I 
 mean well enouofh.' 
 
 ' Yes, so do I ! To fumble at the fastening 
 till your poor beast can bear it no longer and 
 swerves aside, and I sit waiting a good half 
 hour before you bring down your pride enough 
 to alight and open it.' 
 
 * All because you would send Will home 
 for your mask.' 
 
 ' You would like to have had my poor little 
 face one blister with the glare of sun and 
 sea.' 
 
 ' Blisters don't come at this time of the 
 year. ' 
 
 ' No, nor to those who have no complexion 
 to lose,' she cried, with a triumphant look at 
 the two maidens, who certainly had not the
 
 I70 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 lilies nor the roses that she believed herself 
 to have, though, in truth, her imprudences 
 had left her paler and less pretty than at 
 Winchester. 
 
 If this were the style of the matrimonial 
 conversations, Anne again grieved for her 
 old playfellow, and she perceived that Lucy 
 looked uncomfortable ; but there was no 
 getting a moment's private conversation with 
 her before the coach was brought round again 
 for the completion of the journey. All that 
 neighbourhood had a very bad reputation as 
 the haunt of lawless characters, prone to 
 violence ; and though among mere smugglers 
 there was little danger of an attack on persons 
 well known like the Woodford family, they 
 were often joined by far more desperate men 
 from the seaport, so that it was never desirable 
 to be out of doors after dark. 
 
 The journey proved to have been too much 
 for Mrs. Woodford's strength, and for some 
 days she was so ill that Anne never left the 
 house ; but she rallied again, and on coming 
 downstairs became very anxious that her 
 daughter should not be more confined by 
 attendance than was wholesome, and insisted
 
 X THE MENAGERIE 171 
 
 on every opportunity of change or amuse- 
 ment being taken. 
 
 One clay as Anne was in the garden she 
 was surprised by Peregrine dashing up on 
 horseback, 
 
 ' You would not take the Queen's rosary 
 before,' he said. ' You must now, to save it. 
 My father has smelt it out. He says it is 
 teraphim ! Micah — Rachel, what not, are 
 quoted against it. He would have smashed 
 it into fragments, but that Martha Browning 
 said it would be a pretty bracelet. I'd sooner 
 see it smashed than on her red fist. To think 
 of her giving in to such vanities ! But he 
 said she might have it, only to be new strung. 
 When he was gone, she said, " I don't really 
 want the thing, but it was hard you should 
 lose the Queen's keepsake. Can you bestow 
 it safely?" I said I could, and brought it 
 hither. Keep it, Anne, I pray.' 
 
 Anne hesitated, and referred it to her 
 mother upstairs. 
 
 'Tell him,' she said, 'that we will keep it 
 in trust for him as a royal gift.' 
 
 Peregrine was disappointed, but had to be 
 content.
 
 172 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 A Dutch vessel from the East Indies 
 had brought home sundry strange animals, 
 which were exhibited at the Jolly Mariner 
 at Portsmouth, and thus announced on a 
 bill printed on execrable paper, brought out 
 to Portchester by some of the market 
 people : — 
 
 ' An Ellefante twice the Biofnesse of an 
 Ocks, the Trunke or Probosces whereof can 
 pick up a Needle or roote up an Ellum Tree. 
 Also the Royale Tyger, the same as has 
 slaine and devoured seven yonge Gentoo 
 babes, three men, and two women at the 
 township at Chuttergong, nie to Bombay, in 
 the Eastern Indies. Also the sacred Ape, 
 worshipped by the heathen of the Indies, the 
 Dancing Serpent which weareth Spectacles, 
 and whose Bite is instantly mortal, with other 
 rare Fish, Fowle, Idols and the like. All to 
 be seene at the Charge of one Groat per 
 head.' 
 
 Mrs. Woodford declared herself to be 
 extremely desirous that her daughter should 
 see and bring home an account of all these 
 marvels, and thouo^h Anne had no crreat in- 
 clination to face the tiger with the formidable
 
 X THE MENAGERIE 173 
 
 appetite, she could not refuse to accompany 
 her uncle. 
 
 The Jolly Mariner stood in one of the 
 foulest and narrowest of the streets of the 
 unsavoury seaport, and Dr. Woodford sighed, 
 and fumed, and wished for a good pipe of 
 tobacco more than once as he hesitated to try 
 to force a way for his niece through the 
 throng round the entrance to the stable- 
 yard of the Jolly Mariner, apparently too 
 rough to pay respect to gown and cassock. 
 Anne clung to his arm, ready to give up 
 the struggle, but a voice said, * Allow me, 
 sir. Mistress Anne, deio^n to take mv 
 arm,' 
 
 It was Pereo-rine Oakshott with his brother 
 Robert, and she could hardly tell how in a 
 few seconds she had been squeezed through 
 the crowd, and stood in the inn-vard, in a 
 comparatively free space, for a groat was a 
 prohibitory charge to the vulgar. 
 
 ' Pereofrine ! Master Oakshott!' Thev 
 heard an exclamation of pleasure, at which 
 Pereo;^rine shruo-aed his shoulders and looked 
 expressively at Anne, before turning to 
 receive the salutations of an elderly gentle-
 
 174 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 man and a tall young woman, very plainly 
 but handsomely clad in mourning deeper than 
 his own. She was of a tall, gaunt, angular 
 figure, and a face that never could have been 
 handsome, and now bore evident traces of 
 smallpox in redness and pits. 
 
 Dr. Woodford knew the guardian Mr. 
 Browning, and his ward Mistress Martha and 
 Mistress Anne Jacobina were presented to 
 one another. The former gave a good- 
 humoured smile, as if perfectly unconscious 
 of her own want of beauty, and declared she 
 had hoped to meet all the rest here, especially 
 Mistress Anne Woodford, of whom she had 
 heard so much. There was just a little 
 patronage about the tone which repelled the 
 proud spirit that was in Anne, and in spite of 
 the ordinary dread and repulsion she felt for 
 Peregrine, she was naughty enough to have 
 the feeling of a successful beauty when Pere- 
 grine most manifestly turned away from the 
 heiress in her silk and velvet to do the 
 honours of the exhibition to the parson's 
 niece. 
 
 The elephant was fastened by the leg to a 
 post, which perhaps he could have pulled up,
 
 X THE MENAGERIE 175 
 
 had he thoiiQ;-ht it worth his while, but he was 
 well contented to wave his trunk about and 
 extend its clever finger to receive contribu- 
 tions of cakes and apples, and he was too 
 well amused to resort to any strong measures. 
 The tiger, to Anne's relief, proved to be only 
 a stuffed specimen. Peregrine, who had seen 
 a good many foreign animals in Holland, 
 where the Dutch captains were in the habit 
 of bringing curiosities home for the delecta- 
 tion of their families in their Ljisthmiscn, w^as 
 a very amusing companion, having much to 
 tell about bird and beast, while Robert stood 
 staring with open mouth. The long-legged 
 secretary and the beautiful doves were, how- 
 ever, only stuffed, but Anne was much enter- 
 tained at second hand with the relation of the 
 numerous objects, which on the word of a 
 Leyden merchant had been known to dis- 
 appear in the former bird's capacious crop, 
 and with stories of the q^raceful dancinof of 
 the cobra, though she was not sorry that the 
 present specimen was only visible in a bottle 
 of arrack, where his spectacled hood was 
 scarcely apparent. Presently a well-known 
 shrill young voice was heard. ' Yes, yes, I
 
 176 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 know I shall swoon at that terrible tlsfer ! 
 Oh, don't ! I can't come any farther.' 
 
 'Why, you would come, madam,' said 
 Charles. 
 
 ' Yes, yes ! but — oh, there's a two-tailed 
 monster! I know it is the tiger! It is 
 moving! I shall die if you take me any 
 farther.' 
 
 ' Plague upon your folly, madam ! It is 
 only the elephant,' said a gruffer, rude voice. 
 ' Oh, it is dreadful ! 'Tis like a mountain ! 
 I can't! Oh no, I can't!' 
 
 ' Come, madam, you have brought us thus 
 far, you must come on, and not make fools of 
 us all,' said Charles's voice. ' There's nothing 
 to hurt you.' 
 
 Anne, understanding the distress and per- 
 plexity, here turned back to the passage into 
 the court, and began persuasively to explain 
 to little Mrs. Archfield that the tiger was 
 dead, and only a skin, and that the elephant 
 was the mildest of beasts, till she coaxed 
 forward that small personage, who had of 
 course never really intended to turn back, 
 supported and guarded as she was by her 
 husband, and likewise by a tall, glittering
 
 X THE MENAGERIE 177 
 
 figure in big boots and a handsome scarlet 
 uniform and white feather who claimed her 
 attention as he strode into the court. ' Ha ! 
 Mistress Anne and the Doctor on my life. 
 What, don't you know me ?' 
 
 ' Master SedleyArchfield!' said the Doctor; 
 ' welcome home, sir ! 'Tis a meeting of old 
 acquaintance. You and this gentleman are 
 both so much altered that it is no wonder 
 if you do not recognise one another at 
 once.' 
 
 * No fear of Mr. Perry Oakshott not being 
 recognised,' said Sedley Archfield, holding 
 out his hand, but with a certain sneer in his 
 rough voice that brought Peregrine's eye- 
 brows together. ' Kenspeckle enough, as the 
 fools of Whigs say in Scotland.' 
 
 'Are you long from Scotland, sir?' asked 
 Dr. Woodford, by way of preventing person- 
 alities. 
 
 ' Oh ay, sir ; these six months and more. 
 There's not much more sport to be had since 
 the fools of Cameronians have been pretty 
 well got under, and 'tis no loss to be at 
 Hounslow.' 
 
 ' And oh, w^hat a fright!' exclaimed Mrs. 
 
 VOL. I N
 
 178 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 Archfield, catching sight of the heiress. 
 ' Keep her away ! She makes me ill.' 
 
 They were glad to divert her attention to 
 feeding the elephant, and she was coquetting 
 a little about making up her mind to approach 
 even the defunct tiger, while she insisted on 
 having the number of his victims counted 
 over to her. Anne asked for Lucy, to whom 
 she wanted to show the pigeons, but was 
 answered that, ' My lady wanted Lucy at 
 home over some matter of jellies and blanc- 
 manges.' 
 
 Charles shrugged his shoulders a little and 
 Sedley grumbled to Anne, ' The little vixen 
 sets her heart on cates that she won't lay a 
 finger to make, and poor Lucy is like to be 
 no better than a cook-maid, while they won't 
 cross her, for fear of her tantrums.' 
 
 At that instant piercing screams, shriek 
 upon shriek, rang through the court, and 
 turning hastily round, Anne beheld a little 
 monkey perched on Mrs. Archfield's head, 
 having apparently leapt thither from the pole 
 to which it was chained. 
 
 The keeper was not in sight, being in fact 
 employed over a sale of some commodities
 
 X THE MENAGERIE 179 
 
 within. There was a general springing to 
 the rescue. Charles tried to take the creature 
 off, Sedley tugged at the chain fastened to 
 a belt round its body, but the monkey held 
 tight by the curls on the lady's forehead with 
 its hands, and crossed its legs round her 
 neck, clasping the hands so that the effect of 
 the attempts of her husband and his cousin 
 was only to throttle her, so that she could no 
 longer scream and was almost in a fit, when 
 on Peregrine holding out a nut and speaking 
 coaxingly in Dutch, the monkey unloosed its 
 hold, and with another bound was on his arm. 
 He stood caressing and feeding it, talking to 
 it in the same tongue, while it made little 
 squeaks and chatterings, evidently delighted, 
 though its mournful old man's visage still had 
 the same piteous expression. There was 
 something most grotesque and almost weird 
 in the sight of Peregrine's queer figure toying 
 with its odd hands which seemed to be in 
 black gloves, and the strange language he 
 talked to it added to the uncanny effect. 
 Even the Doctor felt it as he stood watching, 
 and would have muttered ' Birds of a feather,' 
 but that the words were spoken more gruffly
 
 i8o A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 and plainly by Sedley Archfield, who said 
 something about the Devil and his dam, 
 which the good Doctor did not choose to hear, 
 and only said to Peregrine, ' You know how 
 to deal with the jackanapes.' 
 
 ' I have seen some at Leyden, sir. This 
 is a pretty little beast.' 
 
 Pretty ! There was a recoil in horror, for 
 the creature looked to the crowd demoniacal. 
 Something the same was the sensation 
 of Charles, who, assisted by Anne and 
 Martha, had been rather carrying than lead- 
 ing his wife into the inn parlour, where she 
 immediately had a fit of hysterics — vapours, 
 as they called it — bringing all the w^omen of 
 the inn about her, while Martha and Anne 
 soothed her as best they could, and he was 
 reduced to helplessly leaning out at the bay 
 window. 
 
 When the sobs and cries subsided, under 
 cold water and essences without and strong 
 waters within, and the little lady in Martha's 
 strong arms, between the matronly coaxing 
 of the fat hostess and the kind soothings of 
 the two young ladies, had been restored to 
 something of equanimity, Mistress Martha
 
 X THE MENAGERIE i8i 
 
 laid her down and said with the utmost good 
 humour and placidity to the young husband, 
 ' Now I'll go, sir. She is better now, but the 
 sight of my face might set her off again.' 
 
 ' Oh, do not say so, madam. We are 
 infinitely obliged. Let her thank you.' 
 
 But Martha shook her hand and laughed, 
 turnine to leave the room, so that he was fain 
 to give her his arm and escort her back to 
 her guardian. 
 
 Then ensued a scream. ' Where's he 
 eoinpf ? Mr. Archfield, don't leave me.' 
 
 * He is only taking Mistress Browning 
 back to her guardian,' said Anne. 
 
 * Eh ? oh, how can he ? A hideous fright!' 
 she cried. 
 
 To say the truth, she was rather pleased 
 to have had such a dreadful adventure, and 
 to have made such a commotion, though she 
 protested that she must go home directly, and 
 could never bear the sight of those dreadful 
 monsters again, or she should die on the spot. 
 
 ' But,' said she, when the coach was at the 
 door, and Anne had restored her dress to its 
 dainty gaiety, ' I must thank Master Peregrine 
 for taking off that horrible jackanapes.'
 
 1 82 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 ' Small thanks to him,' said Charles crossly. 
 ' I wager it was all his doing out of mere 
 spite.' 
 
 ' He is too good a beau ever to spite me' 
 said Mrs. Alice, her head a little on one side. 
 
 ' Then to show off what he could do with 
 the beast — Satan's imp, like himself.' 
 
 ' No, no, Mr. Archfield,' pleaded Anne, 
 ' that was impossible ; I saw him myself. He 
 was with that sailor-looking man measuring 
 the height of the secretary bird.' 
 
 ' I believe you are always looking after 
 him,' grumbled Charles. ' I can't guess what 
 all the women see in him to be always gazing 
 after him.' 
 
 'Because he is so charmingly ugly,' laughed 
 the young wife, tripping out in utter forget- 
 fulness that she was to die if she went near 
 the beasts again. She met Peregrine half- 
 way across the yard with outstretched hands, 
 exclaiming" — 
 
 'O Mr. Oakshott ! it was so good in you 
 to take away that nasty beast.' 
 
 ' I am glad, madam, to have been of use,' 
 said Peregrine, bowing and smiling, a smile 
 that might explain something of his fascina-
 
 X THE MENAGERIE 183 
 
 tion. ' The poor brute was only drawn, as 
 all of our kind are. He wanted to see so 
 sweet a lady nearer. He is quite harmless. 
 Will you stroke him } See, there he sits, 
 gazing after you. Will you give him a cake 
 and make friends?' 
 
 ' No, no, madam, it cannot be ; it is too 
 much,' grumbled Charles ; and though Alice 
 had backed at first, perhaps for the pleasure 
 of teasing him, or for that of being the centre 
 of observation, actually, with all manner of 
 pretty airs and graces, she let herself be led 
 forward, lay a timid hand on the monkey's 
 head, and put a cake in its black fingers, while 
 all the time Peregrine held it fast and talked 
 Dutch to it ; and Charles Archfield hardly 
 contained his rage, though Anne endeavoured 
 to argue the impossibility of Peregrine's 
 having incited the attack ; and Sedley blus- 
 tered that they ought to interfere and make 
 the fellow know the reason why. However, 
 Charles had sense enoucrh to know that thoucjh 
 he might exhale his vexation in grumbling, 
 he had no valid cause for quarrelling with 
 young Oakshott, so he contented himself with 
 black looks and grudging thanks, as he was
 
 1 84 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 obliged to let Peregrine hand his wife into 
 her carriaofe amid her nods and becks and 
 wreathed smiles. 
 
 They would have taken Dr. Woodford and 
 his niece home in the coach, but Anne had an 
 errand in the town, and preferred to return 
 by boat. She wanted some oranges and 
 Turkey figs to allay her mother's constant 
 thirst, and Peregrine begged permission to 
 accompany them, saying that he knew where 
 to find the best and cheapest. Accordingly 
 he took them to a tiny cellar, in an alley by 
 the boat camber, where the Portugal oranges 
 certainly looked riper and were cheaper than 
 any that Anne had found before ; but there 
 seemed to be an odd sort of understanding 
 between Peregrine and the withered old 
 weatherbeaten sailor who sold them, such as 
 rather puzzled the Doctor. 
 
 ' I hope these are not contraband,' he said 
 to Peregrine, when the oranges had been 
 packed in the basket of the servant who 
 followed them. 
 
 Peregrine shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 ' Living is hard, sir. Ask no questions.' 
 
 The Doctor looked tempted to turn back
 
 X THE MENAGERIE 185 
 
 with the fruit, but such doubts were viewed 
 as ultra scruples, and would hardly have been 
 entertained even by a magistrate such as Sir 
 Philip Archfield. 
 
 It was not a time for questions, and Pere- 
 grine remained with them till they embarked 
 at the point, asking to be commended to Mrs. 
 Woodford, and hoping soon to come and see 
 both her and poor Hans, he left them.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 PROPOSALS 
 
 Hear me, ye venerable core, 
 
 As counsel for poor mortals. 
 That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door 
 
 For glaikit Folly's portals ; 
 I for their thoughtless, careless sakes 
 
 Would here propose defences. 
 Their doucie tricks, their black mistakes, 
 
 Their failings and mischances.' 
 
 Burns. 
 
 For seven years Anne Woodford had kept 
 Lucy Archfield's birthday with her, and there 
 was no refusing now, though there was more 
 and more unwiUingness to leave Mrs. Wood- 
 ford, whose declining state became so increas- 
 ingly apparent that even the loving daughter 
 could no longer be blind to it. 
 
 The coach was sent over to fetch Mistress 
 Anne to Fareham, and the invalid was left, 
 comfortably installed in her easy-chair by the
 
 CHAP. XI PROPOSALS 187 
 
 parlour fire, with a little table by her side, 
 holding a hand-bell, a divided orange, a glass 
 of toast and water, and the Bible and Prayer- 
 book, wherein lay her chief studies, together 
 with a little needlework, which still amused 
 her feeble hands. The Doctor, divided be- 
 tween his parish, his study, and his garden, 
 had promised to look in from time to time. 
 
 Presently, however, the door was gently 
 tapped, and on her call 'Come in,' Hans, all 
 one grin, admitted Peregrine Oakshott, bow- 
 ing low in his foreign, courteous manner, and 
 entreating her to excuse his intrusion, ' For 
 truly, madam, in your goodness is my only 
 hope.' 
 
 Then he knelt on one knee and kissed the 
 hand she held out to him, while desiring him 
 to speak freely to her. 
 
 ' Nay, madam, I fear I shall startle you, 
 when I lay before you the only chance that 
 can aid me to overcome the demon that is in 
 me.' 
 
 ' My poor ' 
 
 ' Call me your boy, as when I was here 
 seven years ago. Let me sit at your feet as 
 then and listen to me.'
 
 1 88 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 ' Indeed I will, my dear boy,' and she laid 
 her hand on his dark head. ' Tell me all 
 that is in your heart.' 
 
 ' Ah, dear lady, that is not soon done ! 
 You and Mistress Anne, as you well know, 
 first awoke me from my firm belief that I was 
 none other than an elf, and yet there have 
 since been times when I have doubted 
 whether it were not indeed the truth.' 
 
 ' Nay, Peregrine, at years of discretion 
 you should have outgrown old wives' tales.' 
 
 * Better be an elf at once — a soulless crea- 
 ture of the elements — than the sport of an 
 evil spirit doomed to perdition,' he bitterly 
 exclaimed. 
 
 'Hush, hush! You know not what you 
 are saying!' 
 
 ' I know it too well, madam ! There are 
 times when I long and wish after goodness — 
 nay, when Heaven seems open to me — and I 
 resolve and strive after a perfect life ; but 
 again comes the wild, passionate dragging, as 
 it were, into all that at other moments I most 
 loathe and abhor, and I become no more my 
 own master. Ah !' 
 
 There was misery in his voice, and he
 
 XI PROPOSALS . 189 
 
 clutched the long hair on each side of his face 
 with his hands. 
 
 ' St. Paul felt the same,' said Mrs. Wood- 
 ford cjently. 
 
 ' " Who shall deliver me from the body of 
 this death ?" Ay, ay ! how many times have 
 I not groaned that forth ! And so, if that 
 Father at Turin were right, I am but as Paul 
 was when he was Saul. Madam, is it not 
 possible that I was never truly baptized }' he 
 cried eagerly. 
 
 ' Impossible, Peregrine. Was not Mr. 
 Horncastle chaplain when you were born ? 
 Yes ; and I have heard my brother say that 
 both he and your father held the same views 
 as the Church upon baptism.' 
 
 * So I thought ; but Father Geronimo says 
 that at the best it was but heretical baptism, 
 and belike hastily and ineffectually performed.' 
 
 * Put that aside, Peregrine. It is only a 
 temptation and allurement.' 
 
 'It is an allurement you know not how 
 strong,' said the poor youth. ' Could I 
 only bring myself to believe all that Father 
 Geronimo does, and fall down before his 
 Madonnas and saints, then could I hope for
 
 IQO A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 a new nature, and scourge away the old ' — 
 he set his teeth as he spoke — ' till naught 
 remains of the elf or demon, be it what it 
 will.' 
 
 ' Ah, Peregrine, scourging will not do it, 
 but grace will, and that grace is indeed yours, 
 as is proved by these higher aspirations.' 
 
 ' I tell you, madam, that if I live on as I 
 am doing now, grace will be utterly stifled, if 
 it ever abode in me at all. Every hour that 
 I live, pent in by intolerable forms and im- 
 measurable dulness, the maddening temper 
 gains on me ! Nay, I have had to rush out 
 at nio["ht and swear a dozen round oaths 
 before I could compose myself to sit down 
 to the endless supper. Ah, I shock you, 
 madam ! but that's not the worst I am driven 
 to do.' 
 
 ' Nor the way to bring the better spirit, 
 my poor youth. Oh, that you would pray 
 instead of swearing !' 
 
 ' I cannot pray at Oakwood. My father 
 and Mr. Horncastle drive away all the prayers 
 that ever were in me, and I mean nothing, 
 even though I keep my word to you.' 
 
 ' I am glad you do that. While I know
 
 XI PROPOSALS 191 
 
 you are doing so, I shall still believe the 
 better angel will triumph.' 
 
 ' How can aught triumph but hatred and 
 disgust where I am pinned down ? Listen, 
 madam, and hear if good spirits have any 
 chance. We break our fast, ere the sun is 
 up, on chunks of yesterday's half-dressed beef 
 and mutton. If I am seen seeking for a 
 morsel not half raw, I am rated for dainty 
 French tastes ; and the same with the sour 
 smallest of beer. I know now what always 
 made me ill-tempered as a child, and I avoid 
 it, but at the expense of sneers on my French 
 breeding, even though my drink be fair 
 water ; for wine, look you, is a sinful expense, 
 save for after dinner, and frothed chocolate 
 for a man is an invention of Satan. The 
 meal is sauced either with blame of me, 
 messages from the farm -folk, or Bob's ex- 
 ploits in the chase. Then my father goes his 
 rounds on the farm, and would fain have me 
 with him to stand knee-deep in mire watch- 
 ing the plough, or feeling each greasy and 
 odorous old sheep in turn to see if it be 
 ready for the knife, or gloating over the 
 bullocks or swine, or exchanging auguries
 
 192 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 with Thomas Yokes on this or that crop. 
 Fauorh ! And I am told I shall never be 
 good for a country gentleman if I contemn 
 such matters ! I say I have no mind to be 
 a country gentleman, whereby I am told of 
 Esau till I am sick of his very name.' 
 
 ' But surely you have not always to follow 
 on this round ?' 
 
 * Oh no ! I may go out birding with Bob, 
 who is about as lively as an old jackass, or 
 meet the country boobies for a hunt, and be 
 pointed at as the Frenchman, and left to ride 
 alone ; or there's mine own chamber, when 
 the maids do not see fit to turn me out with 
 their pails and besoms, as they do at least 
 twice a week — I sit there in my cloaks and 
 furs (by the way, I am chidden for an effem- 
 inate fop if ever I am seen in them). I would 
 give myself to books, as my uncle counselled, 
 but what think you } By ill hap Bob, coming 
 in to ask some question, found me studying 
 the Divina Commedia of Dante Alighieri, and 
 hit upon one of the engravings representing 
 the torments of purgatory. What must he 
 do but report it, and immediately a hue and 
 cry arises that I am being corrupted with
 
 XI PROPOSALS 193 
 
 Popish books. In vain do I tell them that 
 their admirable John Milton, the only poet 
 save Sternhold and Hopkins that my father 
 deems not absolute pagan, knew, loved, 
 and borrowed from Dante. All my books 
 are turned over as ruthlessly as ever Don 
 Quixote's by the curate and the barber, and 
 whatever Mr. Horncastle's erudition cannot 
 vouch for is summarily handed over to the 
 kitchen wench to light the fires. The best 
 of it is that they have left me my classics, as 
 though old Terence and Lucan were lesser 
 heathens than the great Florentine. How- 
 ever, I have bribed the young maid, and 
 rescued my Dante and Boiardo with small 
 damage, but I dare not read them save with 
 door locked.' 
 
 Mrs. Woodford could scarcely shake her 
 head at the disobedience, and she asked if 
 there were really no other varieties. 
 
 ' Such as fencing with that lubber Robert, 
 and trying to bend his stiff limbs to the noble 
 art ol I'escrime. But that is after-dinner work. 
 There is the mountain of half-raw flesh to be 
 consumed first, and then my father, with Mr. 
 Horncastle and Bob, discuss on what they 
 VOL. I o
 
 194 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 call the news — happy if a poor rogue has 
 been caught by Tom Constable stealing 
 faggots. 'Tis argument for a week — almost 
 equal to the price of a fat mutton at Ports- 
 mouth. My father and the minister nod in 
 due time over their ale-cup, and Bob and I 
 go our ways till dark, or till the house bell 
 rings for prayers and exposition. Well, dear 
 good lady, I will not grieve you by telling 
 you how often they make me wish to be 
 again the imp devoid of every shred of self- 
 respect, and too much inured to flogging to 
 heed what my antics might bring on me.' 
 
 ' I am glad you have that shred of self- 
 respect ; I hope indeed it is some higher 
 respect.' 
 
 'Well, I can never believe that Heaven 
 meant to be served by mortal dulness. Seven 
 years have only made old Horncastle blow his 
 horn to the same note, only more drearily.' 
 
 ' I can see indeed that it is a great trial to 
 one used to the life of foreign Courts and to 
 interest in great affairs like you, my poor 
 Peregrine ; but what can I say but to entreat 
 you to be patient, try to find interest, and 
 endeavour to win your father's confidence so
 
 XI PROPOSALS 195 
 
 that he may accord you more Hberty ? Did 
 I not hear that your attention made your 
 mother's hfe happier?' 
 
 Peregrine laughed. ' My mother ! She 
 has never seen aueht but boorishness all her 
 life, and any departure therefrom seems to 
 her unnatural. I believe she is as much 
 afraid of my courtesy as ever she was of 
 my mischief, and that in her secret heart she 
 still believes me a changeling. No, Madam 
 Woodford, there is but one way to save me 
 from the frenzy that comes over me.' 
 
 ' Your father has already been entreated 
 to let you join your uncle.' 
 
 ' I know it — I know it ; but if it were im- 
 possible before, that discovery of Dante has 
 made it inipossibilissiino, as the Italian would 
 say, to deal with him now. There is a better 
 way. Give me the good angel who has 
 always counteracted the evil one. Give me 
 Mistress Anne !' 
 
 ' Anne, my Anne !' exclaimed Mrs. Wood- 
 ford in dismay. ' O Peregrine, it cannot be !' 
 
 ' I knew that would be your first word,' 
 said Peregrine, ' but verily, madam, I would 
 not ask it but that I know that I should be
 
 196 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 another man with her by my side, and that 
 she would have nothing to fear from the evil 
 that dies at her approach.' 
 
 ' Ah, Peregrine ! you think so now ; but 
 no man can be sure of himself with any mere 
 human care. Besides, my child is not of 
 degree to match with you. Your father 
 would justly be angered if we took advantage 
 of your attachment to us to encourage you in 
 an inclination he could never approve.' 
 
 ' I tell you, madam — yes, I must tell you 
 all — my madness and my ruin will be com- 
 pleted if I am left to my father's will. I 
 know what is hanging over me. He is only 
 waiting till I am of age — at Midsummer, and 
 the year of mourning is over for poor Oliver 
 — I am sure no one mourns for him more 
 heartily than I — to bind me to Martha 
 Browning. If she would only bring the 
 plague, or something worse than smallpox, 
 to put an end to it at once !' 
 
 ' But that would make any such scheme 
 all the more impossible.' 
 
 ' Listen, madam ; do but hear me. Even 
 as children the very sight of Martha Brown- 
 ing's solemn face ' — Peregrine drew his coun-
 
 XI PROPOSALS 197 
 
 tenance down into a portentous length — ' her 
 horror at the shghtest word or sport, her stiff 
 broomstick carriage, all impelled me to the 
 most impish tricks. And now — letting alone 
 that pock-marks have seamed her grim face 
 till she is as ugly as Alecto — she is a Precisian 
 of the Precisians. I declare our household 
 is in her eyes sinfully free! If she can 
 hammer out a text of Scripture, and write 
 her name in characters as big and gawky as 
 herself, 'tis as far as her education has carried 
 her, save in pickling, preserving, stitchery, 
 and clear-starching, the only arts not sinful 
 in her eyes. If I am to have a broomstick, 
 I had rather ride off on one at once to the 
 Witches' sabbath on the Wartburg than be 
 tied to one for life.' 
 
 ' I should think she would scarce accept 
 you.' 
 
 ' There's no such hope. She has been 
 bred up to regard one of us as her lot, and 
 she would accept me without a murmur if I 
 were Beelzebub himself, horns and tail and 
 all ! \\ hy, she ogles me with her gooseberry 
 eyes already, and treats me as a chattel of 
 her own.'
 
 198 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 'Hush, hush, Peregrine! I cannot have 
 you talk thus. If your father had such 
 designs, it would be unworthy of us to 
 favour you in crossing them.' 
 
 ' Nay, madam, he hath never expressed 
 them as yet. Only my mother and brother 
 both refer to his purpose, and if I could 
 show myself contracted to a young lady of 
 good birth and education, he cannot gainsay ; 
 it might yet save me from what I will not 
 and cannot endure. Not that such is by any 
 means my chief and only motive. I have 
 loved Mistress Anne with all my heart ever 
 since she shone upon me like a being from a 
 better world when I lay sick here. She has 
 the same power of hushing the wild goblin 
 within me as you have, madam. I am an- 
 other man with her, as I am with you. It is 
 my only hope ! Give me that hope, and I 
 
 shall be able to endure patiently. Ah! 
 
 what have I done ? Have I said too much ?' 
 
 He had talked longer and more eagerly 
 than would have been good for the invalid 
 even if the topic had been less agitating, and 
 the emotion caused by this unexpected com- 
 plication, consternation at the difficulties she
 
 XI PROPOSALS 199 
 
 foresaw, and the present difficulty of framing 
 a reply, were altogether too much for Mrs. 
 Woodford. She turned deadly white, and 
 gasped for breath, so that Peregrine, in 
 terror, dashed off in search of the maids, 
 exclaiming that their mistress was in a 
 swoon. 
 
 The Doctor came out of his study much 
 distressed, and in Anne's absence the house- 
 hold was almost helpless in giving the 
 succours in which she had always been the 
 foremost. Peresfrine lino^ered about in re- 
 morse and despair, offering to fetch her or to 
 go for the doctor, and finally took the latter 
 course, thereto impelled by the angry words 
 of the old cook, an enemy of his in former 
 days. 
 
 * No better ? no, sir, nor 'tis not your fault 
 if ever she be. You've been and frouoht her 
 nigh to death with your terrifying ways.' 
 
 Peregrine was Hampshire man enough to 
 know that to terrify only meant to tease, but 
 he was in no mood to justify himself to old 
 Patience, so he galloped off to Portsmouth, 
 and only returned with the doctor to hear 
 that Madam Woodford was in bed, and her
 
 200 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 dauQ-hter with her. She was somewhat 
 better, but still very ill, and it was plain that 
 this was no moment for pressing his suit 
 even had it not been time for him to return 
 home. Going to fetch the doctor might be 
 accepted as a valid reason for missing the 
 evening exhortation and prayer, but there 
 were mistrustful looks that galled him. 
 
 Anne's return was more beneficial to Mrs. 
 Woodford than the doctor's visit, and the 
 girl was still too ignorant of all that her 
 mother's attacks of spasms and subsequent 
 weakness implied to be as much alarmed as 
 to depress her hopes. Yet Mrs. Woodford, 
 lying awake in the night, detected that her 
 daughter was restless and unhappy, and 
 asked what ailed her, and how the visit had 
 gone off 
 
 ' You do not wish me to speak of such 
 things, madam,' was the answer. 
 
 ' Tell me all that is in your heart, my 
 child.' 
 
 It all came out with the vehemence of a 
 reserved nature when the flood is loosed. 
 ' Young Madam ' had been more than usually 
 peevish and exacting, jealous perhaps at
 
 XI PROPOSALS 20I 
 
 Lucy's being the heroine of the day, and 
 fretful over a cold which confined her to the 
 house, how she worried and harassed all 
 around her with her whims, megrims and 
 complaints could only too well be imagined, 
 and how the entire pleasure of the day was 
 destroyed. Lucy was never allowed a 
 minute's conversation with her friend with- 
 out being interrupted by a whine and com- 
 plaints of unkindness and neglect. 
 
 Lady Archfield's ill-usage, as the young 
 wife was pleased to call every kind of restric- 
 tion, was the favourite theme next to the 
 daughter-in-law's own finery, her ailments, 
 and her notions of the treatment befitting 
 her. 
 
 And young Mr. Archfield himself, while 
 handing his old friend out to the carriage 
 that had fetched her, could not help confiding 
 to her that he was nearly beside himself. 
 His mother meant to be kind, but expected 
 too much from one so brought up, and his 
 wife — what could be done for her ? She 
 made herself miserable here, and every one 
 else likewise. Yet even if his father would 
 consent, she was utterly unfit to be mistress
 
 202 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 of a house of her own ; and poor Charles 
 could only utter imprecations on the guardians 
 who could have had no idea how a young 
 woman ought to be brought up. It was 
 worse than an ill-trained hound. 
 
 Mrs. Woodford heard what she extracted 
 from her daughter with grief and alarm, and 
 not only for her friends. 
 
 'Indeed, my dear child,' she said, 'you 
 must prevent such confidences. They are 
 very dangerous things respecting married 
 people.' 
 
 ' It was all in a few moments, mamma, 
 and I could not stop him. He is so un- 
 happy;' and Anne's voice revealed tears. 
 
 ' The more reason why you should avoid 
 hearing what he will soon be very sorry you 
 have heard. Were he not a mere lad him- 
 self, it would be as inexcusable as it is 
 imprudent thus to speak of the troubles and 
 annoyances that often beset the first year of 
 wedded life. I am sorry for the poor youth, 
 who means no harm nor disloyalty, and is 
 only treating you as his old companion and 
 playmate ; but he has no right thus to talk of 
 his wife, above all to a young maiden too
 
 XI PROPOSALS 
 
 inexperienced to counsel him, and if he 
 should attempt to do so again, promise me, 
 my daughter, that you will silence him — if by 
 no other means, by telling him so.' 
 
 ' I promise ! ' said Anne, choking back 
 her tears and lifting her head. ' I am sure 
 I never want to go to Fareham again while 
 that Lieutenant Sedley Archfield is there. 
 If those be army manners, they are what I 
 cannot endure. He is altogether mean and 
 hateful, above all when he scoffs at Master 
 Oakshott.' 
 
 ' I am afraid a great many do so, child, 
 and that he often gives some occasion,' put 
 in Mrs. Woodford, a little uneasy that this 
 should be the offence. 
 
 ' He is better than Sedley Archfield, be 
 he what he will, madam,' said the girl. ' He 
 never pays those compliments, those insolent 
 disgusting compliments, such as he — that 
 Sedley, I mean — when he found me alone in 
 the hall, and I had to keep him at bay from 
 trying to kiss me, only Mr. Archfield — 
 Charley — came down the stairs before he 
 was aware, and called out, " I will thank you 
 to behave yourself to a lady in my father's
 
 204 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 house." And then he, Sedley, sneered " The 
 Parson's niece ! " with such a laugh, mother, 
 I shall never get it out of my ears. As if I 
 were not as well born as he ! ' 
 
 ' That is not quite the way to take it, my 
 child. I had rather you stood on your 
 maidenly dignity and discretion than on your 
 birth. I trust he will soon be away.' 
 
 ' I fear he will not, mamma, for I heard 
 say the troop are coming down to be under 
 the Duke of Berwick at Portsmouth.' 
 
 ' Then, dear daughter, it is the less mis- 
 hap that you should be thus closely confined 
 by loving attendance on me. Now, good- 
 night. Compose yourself to sleep, and think 
 no more of these troubles.' 
 
 Nevertheless mother and daughter lay 
 long awake, side by side, that night ; the 
 daughter in all the flutter of nerves induced 
 by offended yet flattered feeling — hating the 
 compliment, yet feeling that it was a compli- 
 ment to the features that she was beginning 
 to value. She was substantially a good, 
 well-principled maiden, modest and discreet, 
 with much dignified reserve, yet it was 
 impossible that she should not have seen
 
 XI 
 
 PROPOSALS 205 
 
 heads turned to look at her in Portsmouth, 
 and know that she was admired above her 
 contemporaries, so that even if it brought her 
 inconvenience it was agreeable. Besides, 
 her heart was beating with pity for the 
 Archfields. The elder ones might have only 
 themselves to blame, but it was very hard for 
 poor Charles to have been blindly coupled to 
 a beine who did not know how to value him, 
 still harder that there should be blame for a 
 confidence where neither meant any harm — 
 blame that made her blush on her pillow 
 with indio^nant shame. 
 
 Perhaps Mrs. Woodford divined these 
 thoughts, for she too meditated deeply on 
 the perils of her fair young daughter, and in 
 the morning could not leave her room. In 
 the course of the day she heard that Master 
 Pereo-rine Oakshott had been to inquire for 
 her, and was not surprised when her brother- 
 in-law soueht an interview with her. The 
 gulf between the hierarchy and squirearchy 
 was sufficient for a marriage to be thought a 
 mesalliance, and it was with a smile at the 
 folly as well as with a certain displeased pity 
 that Dr. Woodford mentioned the proposal so
 
 2o6 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 vehemently pressed upon him by Peregrine 
 Oakshott for his niece's hand. 
 
 ' Poor boy ! ' said Mrs. Woodford, ' it is a 
 great misfortune. You forbade him of course 
 to speak of such a thing.' 
 
 ' I told him that I could not imagine how 
 he could think us capable of entertaining any 
 such proposal without his father's consent. 
 He seems to have hoped that to pledge him- 
 self to us micrht extort sanction from his 
 father, not seeing that it would be a highly 
 improper measure, and would only incense 
 the Major.' 
 
 ' All the more that the Major wishes to 
 pass on Mistress Martha Browning to him, 
 poor fellow.' 
 
 ' He did not tell me so.' 
 
 Mrs. Woodford related what he had said 
 to her, and the Doctor could not but observe: 
 ' The poor Major ! his whole treatment of 
 that unfortunate youth is as if he were re- 
 solved to drive him to distraction. But even 
 if the Major were ever so willing, I doubt 
 whether Master Peregrine be the husband 
 you would choose for our little maid.' 
 
 ' Assuredly not, poor fellow ! though if she
 
 XI PROPOSALS 207 
 
 loved him as he loves her — which happily 
 she does not — I should scarce dare to stand in 
 the way, lest she should be the appointed 
 instrument for his good.' 
 
 ' He assured me that he had never directly 
 addressed her.' 
 
 ' No, and I trust he never will. Not that 
 she is ever like to love him, although she 
 does not shrink from him quite as much as 
 others do. Yet there is a strain of ambition 
 in my child's nature that might make her 
 seek the elevation. But, my good brother, for 
 this and other reasons we must find another 
 home for my poor child when I am gone. 
 Nay, brother, do not look at me thus ; you 
 know as well as I do that I can scarcely look 
 to see the spring come in, and I would fain 
 take this opportunity of speaking to you con- 
 cerning my dear daughter. No one can be a 
 kinder father to her than you, and I would 
 most gladly leave her to cheer and tend you, 
 but as things stand around us she can scarce 
 remain here without a mother's watchfulness. 
 She is guarded now by her strict attendance 
 on my infirmity, but when I am gone how 
 will it be ? '
 
 2o8 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 * She is as good and discreet a maiden as 
 parent could wish,' 
 
 ' Good and discreet as far as her knowledge 
 and experience go, but that is not enough. 
 On the one hand, there is a certain wild 
 temper about that young Master Oakshott 
 such as makes me never know what he 
 might attempt if, as he says, his father 
 should drive him to desperation, and this 
 is a lonely place, w^ith the sea close at 
 hand.' 
 
 ' Lady Archfield would gladly take charge 
 of her.' 
 
 Mrs. Woodford here related what Anne 
 had said of Sedley's insolence, but this the 
 Doctor thought little of, not quite believing 
 in the regiment coming into the neighbour- 
 hood, and Mrs. Woodford most unwillingly 
 was forced to mention her further unwilling- 
 ness that her daughter should be made a 
 party to the troubles caused by the silly 
 young wife of her old playfellow. 
 
 ' What more ? ' said the Doctor, holding 
 up his hands. * I never thought a discreet 
 young maid could be such a care, but I sup- 
 pose that is the price we pay for her good
 
 XI PROPOSALS 209 
 
 looks. Three of them, eh ? What is it that 
 you propose ? ' 
 
 ' I should like to place her in the house- 
 hold of some godly and kindly lady, who 
 would watch over her and probably prov^ide 
 for her marriage. That, as you know, was 
 my own course, and I was very happy in 
 Lady Sandwich's family, till I made the 
 acquaintance of your dear and honoured 
 brother, and my greater happiness began. 
 The first day that I am able I will write to 
 some of my earlier friends, such as Mrs. 
 Evelyn and Mrs. Pepys, and again there 
 is Mistress Eleanor Wall, who, I hear, is 
 married to Sir Theophilus Oglethorpe, and 
 who might accept my daughter for my sake. 
 She is a warm, loving, open-hearted creature 
 of Irish blood, and would certainly be kind 
 to her.' 
 
 There was no indignity in such a plan. 
 Most ladies of rank or quality entertained 
 one or more young women of the clerical or 
 professional classes as companions, gover- 
 nesses, or ladies' maids, as the case might be. 
 They were not classed with the servants, but 
 had their share of the society and amusements 
 
 VOL. I p
 
 2IO A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 of the house, and a fair chance of marriage 
 in their own degree, though the comfort of 
 their situation varied a good deal according 
 to the amiabihty of their mistress, from that 
 of a confidential friend to a white slave and 
 souffre douleiu\ 
 
 Dr. Woodford had no cause to object 
 except his own loss of his niece's society and 
 return to bachelor life, after the eight years 
 of companionship which he had enjoyed ; but 
 such complications as were induced by the 
 presence of an attractive young girl were, as 
 he allowed, beyond him, and he acquiesced 
 with a sigh in the judgment of the mother, 
 whom he had always esteemed so highly. 
 
 The letters were written, and in due time 
 received kind replies. Mrs. Evelyn proposed 
 that the young gentlewoman should come 
 and stay with her till some situation should 
 offer itself, and Lady Oglethorpe, a warm- 
 hearted Irishwoman, deeply attached to the 
 Queen, declared her intention of speaking to 
 the King or the Princess Anne on the first 
 opportunity of the daughter of the brave 
 Captain Woodford. There might very pos- 
 sibly be a nursery appointment to be had
 
 xi PROPOSALS 211 
 
 either at the Cockpit or at Whitehall in the 
 course of the year. 
 
 This was much more than Mrs. Woodford 
 had desired. She had far rather have placed 
 her daughter immediately under some kind 
 matronly lady in a priv^ate household ; but 
 she knew that her good friend was always 
 eager to promise to the utmost of her possible 
 power. She did not talk much of this to her 
 daughter, only telling her that the kind ladies 
 had promised to befriend her, and find a 
 situation for her ; and Anne was too much 
 shocked to find her mother actually making 
 such arrangements to enter upon any inquiries. 
 The perception that her mother was looking 
 forward to passing away so soon entirely 
 overset her ; she would not think about it, 
 would not admit the bare idea of the loss. 
 Only there lurked at the bottom of her heart 
 the feeling that when the crash had come, 
 and desolation had overtaken her, it would 
 be more dreary at Portchester than any- 
 where else ; and there might be infinite pos- 
 sibilities beyond for the King's godchild, 
 almost a knight's daughter. 
 
 The next time that Mrs. Woodford heard
 
 212 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 that Major Oakshott was at the door inquir- 
 ing for her health, she begged as a favour 
 that he would come and see her. 
 
 The good gentleman came upstairs tread- 
 ing gently in his heavy boots, as one accus- 
 tomed to an invalid chamber. 
 
 ' I am sorry to see you thus, madam,' he 
 said, as she held out her wasted hand and 
 thanked him. ' Did you desire spiritual con- 
 solations ? There are times when our needs 
 pass far beyond prescribed forms and ordi- 
 nances.' 
 
 ' I am thankful for the prayers of good 
 men,' said Mrs. Woodford ; ' but for truth's 
 sake I must tell you that this was not fore- 
 most in my mind when I begged for this 
 favour.' 
 
 He was evidently disappointed, for he 
 was producing from his pocket the little 
 stout black-bound Bible, which, by a dent in 
 one of the lids, bore witness of having been 
 with hini in his campaigns ; and perhaps 
 half-diplomatically, as well as with a yearning 
 for oneness of spirit, she gratified him by 
 requesting him to read and pray. 
 
 With all his rigidity he was too truly pious
 
 XI PROPOSALS 213 
 
 n mcUi for liis ministrations to contain any- 
 thing in which, Churchwonian as she was, 
 she could not join with all her heart, and 
 feel comforting ; but ere he was about to rise 
 from his knees she said, ' One prayer for 
 your son, sir.' 
 
 A few fervent words were spoken on 
 behalf ol the wandering sheep, while tears 
 glistened in the old man's eyes, and fell fast 
 from those of the lady, and then he said, ' Ah, 
 madam ! have I not wrestled in prayer for 
 my poor boy ? ' 
 
 ' I am sure you have, sir. I know you 
 have a deep fatherly love for him, and there- 
 fore I sent to speak to you as a dying woman.' 
 
 ' And I will gladly hear you, for you have 
 always been good to him, and, as I confess, 
 have done him more STOod — if crood can be 
 called the apparent improvement in one un- 
 regenerate — than any other.' 
 
 'Except his uncle,' said Mrs. Woodford. 
 ' I fear it is vain to say that I think the best 
 hope of his becoming a good and valuable 
 man, a comfort and not a sorrow to yourself, 
 would be to let him even now rejoin Sir 
 Perecfrinc.'
 
 214 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 ' That cannot be, madam. My brother 
 has not kept to the understanding on which 
 I entrusted the lad to him, but has carried 
 him into worldly and debauched company, 
 such as has made the sober and godly habits 
 of his home distasteful to him, and has further 
 taken him into Popish lands, where he has 
 become infected with their abominations to a 
 greater extent than I can yet fathom.' 
 
 Mrs, Woodford sighed and felt hopeless. 
 ' I see your view of the matter, sir. Yet may 
 I suggest that it is hard for a young man to 
 find wholesome occupation such as may guard 
 him from temptation on an estate where the 
 master is active and sufficient like yourself ? ' 
 
 ' Protection from temptation must come 
 from within, madam,' replied the Major; 
 ' but I so far agree with you that in due time, 
 when he has attained his twenty-first year, I 
 trust he will be wedded to his cousin, a virtu- 
 ous and pious young maiden, and will have 
 the management of her property, which is 
 larger than my own.' 
 
 ' But if — if — sir, the marriage were dis- 
 tasteful to him, could it be for the happiness 
 and welfare of either .^ '
 
 XI PROPOSALS 215 
 
 ' The boy has been complaining to you ? 
 Nay, madam, I blame you not. You have 
 ever been the boy's best friend according to 
 knowledo-e ; but he ouo^ht to know that his 
 honour and mine are engaged. It is true 
 that Mistress Martha is not a Court beauty, 
 such as his eyes have unhappily learnt to 
 admire, but I am acting verily for his true 
 good. " Favour is deceitful, and beauty is 
 vam. 
 
 ' Most true, sir ; but let me say one more 
 word. I fear, I greatly fear, that all young 
 spirits brook not compulsion.' 
 
 ' That means, they will not bow their stiff 
 necks to the yoke.' 
 
 ' Ah, sir ! but on the other hand, " Fathers, 
 provoke not your children to wrath." For- 
 give me, sir ; I spoke but out of true affection 
 to your son, and the fear that what may seem 
 to him severity may not drive him to some 
 extremity that might grieve you.' 
 
 ' No forgiveness is needed, madam. I 
 thank you for your interest in him, and for 
 your plain speaking according to your lights. 
 I can but act according to those vouchsafed 
 unto me.'
 
 2i6 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap, xi 
 
 'And we both agree in praying for his 
 true good,' said Mrs. Woodford. 
 
 And with a mutual blessing they parted, 
 Mrs. Woodford deeply sorry for both father 
 and son, for whom she had done what she 
 could. 
 
 It was her last interview with any one 
 outside the house. Another attack of spasms 
 brought the end, during the east winds of 
 March, so suddenly as to leave no time for 
 farewells or last words. When she was laid 
 to rest in the little churchyard within the 
 castle walls, no one showed such overwhelm- 
 ing tokens of grief as Peregrine Oakshott, 
 who lingered about the grave after the Doctor 
 had taken his niece home, and was found lying 
 upon it late in the evening, exhausted with 
 weeping. 
 
 Yet Sedley Archfield, whose regiment had, 
 after all, been sent to Portsmouth, reported 
 that he had spent the very next afternoon at 
 a cock-fight, ending in a carouse with various 
 naval and military officers at a tavern, not 
 drinking, but contributing to the mirth by 
 foreign songs, tricks, and jests.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE ONE HOPE 
 
 ' There's some fearful tie 
 Between me and that spirit world, which God 
 Brands with His terrors on my troubled mind.' 
 
 KiNGSLEY. 
 
 The final blow had fallen upon Anne Wood- 
 ford so suddenly that for the first few days 
 she moved about as one in a dream. Lady 
 Archfield came to her on the first day, and 
 showed her motherly kindness, and Lucy 
 was with her as much as was possible under 
 the exactions of young madam, who was just 
 sufficiently unwell to resent attention being 
 paid to any other living creature. She further 
 developed a jealousy of Lucy's affection for 
 any other friend such as led to a squabble 
 between her and her husband, and made her 
 mother-in-law unwillingly acquiesce in the 
 expediency of Anne's being farther off
 
 :i8 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 And indeed Anne herself felt so utterly 
 forlorn and desolate that an impatience of the 
 place came over her. She was indeed fond 
 of her uncle, but he was much absorbed in 
 his studies, his parish, and in anxious corre- 
 spondence on the state of the Church, and 
 was scarcely a companion to her, and without 
 her mother to engross her love and attention, 
 and cut off from the Archfields as she now 
 was, there was little to counterbalance the 
 restless feeling that London and the precincts 
 of the Court were her natural element. So 
 she wrote her letters according to her mother's 
 desire, and waited anxiously for the replies, 
 feeling as if anything would be preferable to 
 her present unhappiness and solitude. 
 
 The answers came in due time. Mrs. 
 Evelyn promised to try to find a virtuous and 
 godly lady who would be willing to receive 
 Mistress Anne Woodford into her family, and 
 Lady Oglethorpe wrote with vaguer promises 
 of high preferment, which excited Anne's 
 imagination during those lonely hours that she 
 had to spend while her strict mourning, after 
 the custom of the time, secluded her from all 
 visitors.
 
 xu THE ONE HOPE 219 
 
 Meantime, in that anxious spring of 168S, 
 when the Church of England was looking to 
 her defences, the Doctor could not be much 
 at home, and when he had time to listen to 
 private affairs, he heard reports which did not 
 please him of Peregrine Oakshott. That the 
 young men in the county all abhorred his fine 
 foreign airs was no serious evil, though it 
 might be suspected that his sharp ironical 
 tongue had quite as much to do with their 
 dislike as his orreater refinement of manner. 
 
 O 
 
 His father was reported to be very seri- 
 ously displeased with him, for he openly ex- 
 pressed contempt of the precise ways of the 
 household, and absented himself in a manner 
 that could scarcely be attributed to aught but 
 the licentious indulgences of the time ; and 
 as he seldom minorled in the amusements of 
 the young country gentlemen, it was only too 
 probable that he found a lower grade of com- 
 panions in Portsmouth. Moreover his talk, 
 random though it might be, offended all the 
 Whig opinions of his father. He talked with 
 the doofmatism of the traveller of the q^lories 
 of Louis XIV, and broadly avowed his views 
 that the grandeur of the nation was best
 
 2 20 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 established under a kino- who asked no 
 questions of people or Parliament, 'that 
 senseless set of chattering pies,' as he was 
 reported to have called the House of 
 Commons. 
 
 He sang the praises of the gracious and 
 graceful Queen Mary Beatrice, and derided 
 'the dried-up Orange stick,' as he called the 
 hope of the Protestants ; nor did he scruple 
 to pronounce Popery the faith of chivalrous 
 gentlemen, far preferable to the whining of 
 sullen Whiggery. No one could tell how far 
 all this was genuine opinion, or simply delight 
 in contradiction, especially of his father, who 
 was in a constant state of irritation at the 
 son whom he could so little manage. 
 
 And in the height of the wrath of the 
 whole of the magistracy at the expulsion of 
 their lord-lieutenant, the Earl of Gains- 
 borough, and the substitution of the young 
 Duke of Berwick, what must Peregrine do 
 but argue in high praise of that youth, whom 
 he had several times seen and admired. And 
 when not a gentleman in the neighbourhood 
 chose to greet the intruder when he arrived 
 as governor of Portsmouth, Peregrine actually
 
 XII THE ONE HOPE -21 
 
 rode in to see him, and dined with him. 
 Words cannot express the Major's anger and 
 shame at such consorting with a person, 
 whom aHke, on account of parentage, rehgion, 
 and education, he regarded as a son of per- 
 dition. Yet Peregrine would only coolly 
 reply that he knew many a Protestant who 
 would hardly compare favourably with young 
 Berwick, 
 
 It was an anxious period that spring of 
 1 688. The order to read the Kinsf's De- 
 claration of Indulgence from the pulpit had 
 come as a thunderclap upon the clergy. The 
 English Church had only known rest for 
 twenty-eight years, and now, by this uncon- 
 stitutional assumption of prerogative, she 
 seemed about to be given up to be the prey 
 of Romanists on the one hand and Noncon- 
 formists on the other ; though for the present 
 the latter were so persuaded that the Indul- 
 gence was merely a disguised advance of 
 Rome that they were not at all grateful, ex- 
 pecting, as Mr. Horncastle observed, only to 
 be the last devoured, and he was as much 
 determined as was Dr. Woodford not to 
 announce it from his pulpit, whatever might
 
 22 2 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 be the consequence ; the latter thus resigning 
 all hopes of promotion. 
 
 News letters, public and private, were 
 eagerly scanned. Though the diocesan, 
 Bishop Mew, took no active part in the 
 petition called a libel, being an extremely 
 aged man, the imprisonment of Ken, so 
 deeply endeared to Hampshire hearts when 
 Canon of Winchester and Rector of Briorh- 
 stone, and with the Bloody Assize and 
 the execution of Alice Lisle fresh in men's 
 memories, there could not but be extreme 
 anxiety. 
 
 In the midst arrived the tidino-s that a son 
 had been born to the King — a son instantly 
 baptized by a Roman Catholic priest, and no 
 doubt destined by James to rivet the fetters 
 of Rome upon the kingdom, destroying at 
 once the hope of his elder sister's accession. 
 Loyal Churchmen like the Archfields still 
 hoped, recollecting how many infants had 
 been born in the Royal Family only to die ; 
 but at Oakwood the Major and his chaplain 
 shook their heads, and spoke of warming 
 pans, to the vehement displeasure of Pere- 
 grine, who was sure to respond that the
 
 XII THE ONE HOPE 223 
 
 Queen was an angel, and that the Whigs 
 credited every one with their own sly tricks. 
 
 The Major groaned, and things seemed to 
 have reached a pass very like open enmity 
 between father and son, though Peregrine 
 still lived at home, and reports were rife that 
 the year of mourning for his brother being 
 expired, he was, as soon as he came of age, to 
 be married to Mistress Martha Browning, and 
 have an establishment of his own at Ems worth. 
 
 Under these circumstances, it was with 
 much satisfaction that Dr. Woodford said to 
 his niece : ' Child, here is an excellent offer 
 for you. Lady Russell, who you know has 
 returned to live at Stratton, has heard you 
 mentioned by Lady Mildmay. She has just 
 married her eldest daughter, and needs a 
 companion to the other, and has been told of 
 you as able to speak French and Italian, and 
 otherwise well trained. What ! do you not 
 relish the proposal T 
 
 ' Why, sir, would not my entering such a 
 house do you harm at Court, and lessen your 
 chance of preferment ?' 
 
 ' Think not of that, mv child.' 
 
 ' Besides,' added Anne, 'since Lady Ogle-
 
 224 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 thorpe has written, it would not be fitting to 
 engage myself elsewhere before hearing from 
 her again,' 
 
 ' You think so, Anne. Lady Russell's 
 would be a far safer, better home for you than 
 the Court.' 
 
 Anne knew it, but the thought of that 
 widowed home depressed her. It might, she 
 thought, be as dull as Oakwood, and there 
 would be infinite chances of preferment at 
 Court. What she said, however, was : 'It 
 was by my mother's wish that I applied to 
 Lady Oglethorpe.' 
 
 * That is true, child. Yet I cannot but 
 believe that if she had known of Lady 
 Russell's offer, she would gladly and thank- 
 fully have accepted it.' 
 
 So said the secret voice within the girl 
 herself, but she did not yet yield to it. ' Per- 
 haps she would, sir,' she answered, 'if the 
 other proposal were not made. 'Tis a Whig 
 household though.' 
 
 ' A Whig household is a safer one than a 
 Popish one,' answered the Doctor. 'Lady 
 Russell is, by all they tell me, a very saint 
 upon earth.'
 
 XII THE ONE HOPE 225 
 
 Shall it be owned ? Anne thought of 
 Oakvvood, and was not attracted towards a 
 saint upon earth, ' How soon was the answer 
 to be given ?' she asked. 
 
 ' I believe she would wish you to meet 
 her at Winchester next week, when, if you 
 pleased her, you might return with her to 
 Stratton.' 
 
 The Doctor hoped that Lady Oglethorpe's 
 application might fail, but before the week 
 was over she forwarded the definite appoint- 
 ment of Mistress Anne Jacobina Woodford 
 as one of the rockers of his Royal Highness 
 the Prince of Wales, his Majesty having been 
 graciously pleased to remember her father's 
 services and his own sponsorship. ' If your 
 friends consider the office somewhat beneath 
 you,' wrote Lady Oglethorpe, 'it is still open 
 to you to decline it.' 
 
 ' Oh no ; I would certainly not decline it !' 
 cried Anne. ' I could not possibly do so ; 
 could I, sir .•^' 
 
 ' Lady Oglethorpe says you might,' re- 
 turned the Doctor ; ' and for my part, niece, 
 I should prefer the office of a gouvernante to 
 that of a rocker.' 
 
 VOL. I Q
 
 226 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 'Ah, but it is to a Prince!' said Anne. 
 ' It is the way to something further.' 
 
 ' And what may that something further be ? 
 That is the question,' said her uncle. ' I will 
 not control you, my child, for the application 
 to this Court lady was by the wish of your 
 good mother, who knew her well, but I own 
 that I should be far more at rest on your 
 account if you were in a place of less tempta- 
 tion.' 
 
 ' The Court is very different from what it 
 was in the last King's time,' pleaded Anne. 
 
 ' In some degree It may be ; but on the 
 other hand, the influence which may have 
 purified it is of the religion that I fear may be 
 a seduction.' 
 
 ' Oh no, never, uncle ; nothing could make 
 me a Papist.' 
 
 ' Do not be over-confident, Anne. Those 
 who run into temptation are apt to be left to 
 themselves.' 
 
 ' Indeed, sir, I cannot think that the course 
 my mother shaped for me can be a running 
 into temptation.' 
 
 ' Well, Anne, as I say, I cannot withstand 
 you, since it was your mother who requested
 
 XII THE ONE HOPE 227 
 
 Lady Oglethorpe's patronage for you, though 
 I tell you sincerely that I believe that had 
 the two courses been set before her she 
 would have chosen the safer and more private 
 one.' 
 
 * Nay but, dear sir,' still pleaded the 
 maiden, * what would become of your chances 
 of preferment if it were known that you had 
 placed me with Lord Russell's widow in pre- 
 ference to the Queen ?' 
 
 ' Let not that weigh with you one moment, 
 child. I believe that no staunch friend of 
 our Protestant Church will be preferred by 
 his Majesty ; nay, while the Archbishop and 
 my saintly friend of Bath and Wells are per- 
 secuted, I should be ashamed to think of 
 promotion. Spurn the thought from you, 
 child.' 
 
 ' Nay, 'twas only love for you, dear uncle.' 
 
 ' I know it, child. I am not displeased, 
 only think it over, and pray over it, since the 
 post will not go out until to-morrow.' 
 
 Anne did think, but not quite as her uncle 
 intended. The remembrance of the eood- 
 natured young Princesses, the large stately 
 rooms, the brilliant dresses, the radiance of
 
 228 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 wax lights, had floated before her eyes ever 
 since her removal from Chelsea to the quieter 
 regions of Winchester, and she had longed 
 to get back to them. She really loved her 
 uncle, and whatever he might say, she longed 
 to push his advancement, and thought his 
 unselfish abneo-ation the greater reason for 
 working for him ; and in spite of knowing 
 well that it was only a dull back-stair appoint- 
 ment, she could look to the notice of Princess 
 Anne, when once within her reach, and 
 further, with the confidence of youth, believed 
 that she had that within her which would 
 make her way upwards, and enable her to 
 confer promotion, honour, and dignity, on all 
 her friends. Her uncle should be a Bishop, 
 Charles a Peer (fancy his wife being under 
 obligations to the parson's niece !), Lucy 
 should have a perfect husband, and an ap- 
 pointment should be found for poor Peregrine 
 which his father could not gainsay. It was 
 her bounden duty not to throw away such 
 advantages ; besides loyalty to her Royal 
 godfather could not permit his offer to be re- 
 jected, and her mother, when writing to Lady 
 Oglethorpe, must surely have had some such
 
 XII THE ONE HOPE 229 
 
 expectation. Xor should she be entirely cut 
 off from her uncle, who was a Royal chaplain ; 
 and this was some consolation to the good 
 Doctor when he found her purpose fixed, and 
 made arrangements for her to travel up to 
 town in company with Lady Worsley of 
 Gatcombe, whom she was to meet at South- 
 hampton on the ist of July. 
 
 Meantime the Doctor did his best to arm 
 his niece against the allurements to Romanism 
 that he feared would be held out. Lady 
 Oglethorpe and other friends had assured 
 him of the matronly care of Lady Powys and 
 Lady Strickland to guard their department 
 from all evil ; but he did fear these religious 
 inlluences, and Anne, resolute to resist all, 
 perhaps not afraid of the conflict, was willing 
 to arm herself for defence, and listened readily. 
 She was no less anxious to provide for her 
 uncle's comfort in his absence, and many 
 small matters of housewifery that had stood 
 over for some time were now to be purchased, 
 as well as a few needments for her ow^n out- 
 fit, although much was left for the counsel of 
 her patroness in the matter of garments. 
 
 Accordinolv her uncle rode in with her to
 
 2^0 
 
 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 Portsmouth on a shopping expedition, and as 
 the streets of the seaport were scarcely safe 
 for a young woman without an escort, he 
 carried a httle book in his pocket wherewith 
 he beguiled the time that she spent in the 
 selection of his frying-pans, fire-irons, and 
 the like, and her own gloves and kerchiefs. 
 They dined at the ' ordinary ' at the inn, and 
 there Dr. Woodford met his great friends 
 Mr. Stanbury of Botley, and Mr. Worsley of 
 Gatcombe, in the Isle of Wight, who both, 
 like him, were opposed to the reading of the 
 Declaration of Indulgence, as unconstitu- 
 tional, and deeply anxious as to the fate of 
 the greatly beloved Bishop of Bath and 
 Wells. It was inevitable that they should 
 fall into deep and earnest council together, 
 and when dinner was over they agreed to 
 adjourn to the house of a friend learned in 
 ecclesiastical law to hunt up the rights of the 
 case, leaving Anne to await them in a private 
 room at the Spotted Dog, shown to her by 
 the landlady. 
 
 Anne well knew what such a meeting be- 
 tided, and with a certain prevision, had armed 
 herself with some knotting, wherewith she
 
 XII THE ONE HOPE 231 
 
 sat down in a bay window overlooking the 
 street, whence she could see market-women 
 going home with empty baskets, pigs being 
 reluctantly driven down to provision ships in 
 the harbour, barrels of biscuit, salt meat, or 
 beer, being rolled down for the same purpose, 
 sailors in loose knee-breeches, and soldiers in 
 tall peaked caps and cross-belts, and officers 
 of each service moving in different directions. 
 She sat there day-dreaming, feeling secure in 
 her loneliness, and presently saw a slight 
 figure, daintily clad in gray and black, who 
 catching her eye made an eager gesture, 
 doffing his plumed hat and bowing low to 
 her. She returned his salute, and thought he 
 passed on, but in another minute she was 
 startled to find him at her side, exclaiming : 
 ' This is the occasion I have longed and 
 sought for. Mistress Anne ; I bless and thank 
 the fates.' 
 
 ' I am glad to see you once more before I 
 depart,' said Anne, holding out her hand as 
 frankly as she could to the old playfellow 
 whom she always thought ill-treated, but 
 whom she could never meet without a certain 
 shudder.
 
 232 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 ' Then it is true ?' he exclaimed. 
 
 ' Yes ; I am to go up with Lady Worsley 
 from Southampton next week.' 
 
 'Ah!' he cried, 'but must that be .'^' and 
 she felt his strange power, so that she drew 
 into herself and said haughtily — 
 
 ' My dear mother wished me to be with 
 her friends, nor can the King's appointment 
 be neglected, though of course I am extremely 
 grieved to go.' 
 
 ' And you are dazzled with all these gew- 
 gaws of Court life, no doubt ?' 
 
 ' I shall not be much in the way of gew- 
 gaws just yet,' said Anne drily. 'It will be 
 dull enough in some back room of Whitehall 
 or St. James's.' 
 
 ' Say you so. You will wish yourself 
 back — you, the lady of my heart — mine own 
 good angel ! Hear me. Say but the word, 
 and your home will be mine, to say nothing 
 of your own most devoted servant.' 
 
 'Hush, hush, sir! I cannot hear this,' 
 said Anne, anxiously glancing down the street 
 in hopes of seeing her uncle approaching. 
 
 ' Nay, but listen ! This is my only hope 
 — my only chance — I must sj^eak — you doom
 
 XII THE ONE HOPE 233 
 
 me to you know not what if you will not 
 hear me !' 
 
 ' Indeed, sir, I neither will nor ought!' 
 
 ' Oueht ! Oucrht ! Oufrht you not to save 
 a fellow-creature from distraction and destruc- 
 tion ? One who has loved and looked to 
 you ever since you and that saint your 
 mother lifted me out of the misery of my 
 childhood.' 
 
 Then as she looked softened he went 
 on : ' You, you are my one hope. No one 
 else can lift me out of the reach of the 
 demon that has beset me even since I was 
 born.' 
 
 'That is profane,' she said, the more 
 severe for the growing attraction of repul- 
 sion. 
 
 'What do I care ? It is true! What was 
 I till you and your mother took pity on the 
 wild imp ? My old nurse said a change 
 would come to me every seven years. That 
 blessed change came just seven years ago. 
 Give me what will make a more blessed — 
 a more savino- chanq-e — or there will be one 
 as much for the worse.' 
 
 'But — I could not. No! you must see
 
 234 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 for yourself that I could not — even if I would,' 
 she faltered, really pitying now, and unwilling 
 to give more pain than she could help. 
 
 'Could not? It should be possible. 1 
 know how to bring it about. Give me but 
 your promise, and I will make you mine— ay, 
 and I will make myself as worthy of you as 
 man can be of saint-like maid.' 
 
 ' No — no ! This is very wrong — you are 
 pledged already ' 
 
 ' No such thing — -believe no such tale. 
 My promise has never been given to that 
 grim hag of my father's choice — no, nor 
 should be forced from me by the rack. Look 
 you here. Let me take this hand, call in the 
 woman of the house, give me your word, 
 and my father will own his power to bind me 
 to Martha is at an end.' 
 
 'Oh no! It would be a sin — never. 
 
 Besides ' said Anne, holding her hands 
 
 tightly clasped behind her in alarm, lest 
 against her will she should let them be seized, 
 and trying to find words to tell him how litde 
 she felt disposed to trust her heart and her- 
 self to one whom she might indeed pity, but 
 with a sort of shrinking as from something
 
 XII 
 
 THE ONE HOPE 235 
 
 not quite humcin. Perhaps he dreaded her 
 ' besides ' — for he cut her short. 
 
 ' It would save ten thousand greater sins. 
 See, here are two ways before us. Either 
 give me your word, your precious word, go 
 silent to London, leave me to struggle it out 
 with my father and your uncle and follow 
 you. Hope and trust will be enough to 
 bear me through the batde without, and 
 within deafen the demon of my nature, 
 and render me patient of my intolerable 
 life till I have conquered and can bring you 
 home.' 
 
 Her tongue faltered as she tried to say 
 such a secret unsanctioned engagement would 
 be treachery, but he cut off the words. 
 
 ' You have not heard me out. There is 
 another way. I know those who will aid me. 
 We can meet in early dawn, be wedded in 
 one of these churches in all secrecy and haste, 
 and I would carry you at once to my uncle, 
 who, as you well know, would welcome you 
 as a daughter. Or, better still, we would to 
 those fair lands I have scarce seen, but where 
 I could make my way with sword or pen with 
 you to inspire me. I have the means. My
 
 236 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 uncle left this with me. Speak ! It is death 
 or life to me.' 
 
 This last proposal was thoroughly alarm- 
 ing, and Anne retreated, drawing herself to 
 her full height, and speaking with the dignity 
 that concealed considerable terror. 
 
 ' No, indeed, sir. You ought to know 
 better than to utter such proposals. One 
 who can make such schemes can certainly 
 obtain no respect nor regard from the lady 
 he addresses. Let me pass ' — for she was 
 penned up in the bay window — ' I shall seek 
 the landlady till my uncle returns.' 
 
 ' Nay, Mistress Anne, do not fear me. 
 Do not drive me to utter despair. Oh, 
 pardon me ! Nothing but utter desperation 
 could drive me to have thus spoken ; but 
 how can I help using every effort to win her 
 whose very look and presence is bliss ! No- 
 thing else soothes and calms me ; nothing 
 else so silences the demon and wakens the 
 better part of my nature. Have you no pity 
 upon a miserable wretch, who will be dragged 
 down to his doom without your helping hand.-^' 
 
 He flung himself on his knee before her, 
 and tried to grasp her hand.
 
 XII THE ONE HOPE 237 
 
 ' Indeed, I am sorry for you, Master Oak- 
 shott,' said Anne, compassionate, but still 
 retreatine as far as the window would let her; 
 'but you are mistaken. If this power be in 
 me, which I cannot quite believe — yes, I see 
 what you want to say, but if I did what I 
 know to be wrong, I should lose it at once ; 
 God's grace can save you without me.' 
 
 ' I will not ask you to do what you call 
 wrong ; no, nor to transgress any of the ties 
 you respect, you whose home is so unlike 
 mine ; only tell me that I may have hope, 
 that if I deserve you, I may win you ; that 
 you could grant me — wretched me — a share 
 of your affection.' 
 
 This was hardest of all ; mingled pity and 
 repugnance, truth and compassion strove 
 within the maiden as well as the strange in- 
 fluence of those extraordinary eyes. She 
 was almost as much afraid of herself as of 
 her suitor. At last she managed to say, ' I 
 am very sorry for you ; I grieve from my 
 heart for your troubles ; I should be very 
 glad to hear of your welfare, and anything 
 good of you, but ' 
 
 ' But, but — I see — it is mere frenzy in me
 
 238 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 to think the bhghted elf can aspire to be 
 aught but loathsome to any lady — only, at 
 least, tell me you love no one else.' 
 
 * No, certainly not,' she said, as if his eyes 
 drew it forcibly from her. 
 
 ' Then you cannot hinder me from making 
 you my guiding star — hoping that if yet I 
 can ' 
 
 ' There's my uncle ! ' exclaimed Anne, in 
 a tone of infinite relief. ' Stand up, Mr. 
 Oakshott, compose yourself. Of course I 
 cannot hinder your thinking about me, if it 
 will do you any good, but there are better 
 things to think about which would conquer 
 evil and make you happy more effectually.' 
 
 He snatched her hand and kissed it, nor 
 did she withhold it, since she really pitied 
 him, and knew that her uncle was near, and 
 all would soon be over. 
 
 Peregrine dashed away by another door 
 as Dr. Woodford's foot was on the stairs. ' I 
 have ordered the horses,' he began. ' They 
 told me young Oakshott was here.' 
 
 ' He was, but he is gone ; ' and she could 
 not quite conceal her agitation. 
 
 ' Crimson cheeks, my young mistress ?
 
 XII THE ONE HOPE 239 
 
 Ah, the fooHsh fellow ! You do not care for 
 him, I trust ? ' 
 
 * No, indeed, poor fellow. What, did you 
 know, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Know. Yes, truly — and your mother 
 likewise, Anne. It was one cause of her 
 wishing to send you to safer keeping than 
 mine seems to be. My young spark made 
 his proposals to us both, though we would 
 not disturb your mind therewith, not knowing 
 how he would have dealt with his father, nor 
 viewing him, for all he is heir to Oakwood, 
 as a desirable match in himself I am elad 
 to see you have sense and discretion to be of 
 the same mind, my maid.' 
 
 ' I cannot but grieve for his sad condition, 
 sir,' replied Anne, ' but as for anything more 
 — it would make me shudder to think of it — 
 he is still too like Robin Goodfellow^' 
 
 'That's my good girl,' said her uncle. 
 ' And do you know, child, there are the best 
 hopes for the Bishops. There's a gentleman 
 come down but now from London, who says 
 'tw^as like a triumph lis the Bishops sat in 
 their barge on the way to the Tower ; crowds 
 swarming along the banks, begging for their
 
 240 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 blessing, and they waving it with tears in 
 their eyes. The King will be a mere mad- 
 man if he dares to touch a hair of their 
 heads. Well, when I was a lad, Bishops were 
 sent to the Tower by the people ; I little 
 thought to live to see them sent thither by 
 the King.' 
 
 All the way home Dr. Woodford talked of 
 the trial, beginning perhaps to regret that his 
 niece must go to the very focus of Roman 
 influence in England, where there seemed to 
 be little scruple as to the mode of conversion. 
 Would it be possible to alter her destination } 
 was his thought, when he rose the next day, 
 but loyalty stood in the way, and that very 
 afternoon another event happened which 
 made it evident that the poor girl must leave 
 Portchester as soon as possible. 
 
 She had gone out with him to take leave 
 of some old cottagers in the village, and he 
 finding himself detained to minister to a case 
 of unexpected illness, allowed her to go home 
 alone for about a quarter of a mile along the 
 white sunny road at the foot of Portsdown, 
 with the castle full in view at one end, and 
 the cottage where he was at the other. Many
 
 XII THE ONE HOPE 241 
 
 a time: previously had she trodden it alone, 
 but she had not reckoned on two officers 
 coming swaggering from a cross road down 
 the hill, one of them Sedley Archfield, who 
 immediately called out, ' Ha, ha ! my pretty 
 maid, no wench goes by without paying toll ; ' 
 and they spread their arms across the road so 
 as to arrest her, 
 
 ' Sir,' said Anne, drawing herself up with 
 dignity, ' you mistake ' 
 
 'Not a whit, my dear ; no exemption 
 here ; ' and there was a horse laugh, and an 
 endeavour to seize her, as she stepped back, 
 feeling that in quietness lay her best chance 
 of repelling them, adding — 
 
 ' My uncle is close by.' 
 
 ' The more cause for haste ; ' and they 
 began to close upon her. But at that moment 
 Peregrine Oakshott, leaping from his horse, 
 was among them, w'ith the cry — 
 
 ' Dastards ! insultino- a lady.' 
 
 ' Lady, forsooth ! the parson's niece.' 
 
 In a few seconds — very long seconds to 
 her — her llying feet had brought her back 
 to the cottage, where she burst in with — 
 ' Pardon, pardon, sir ; come quick ; there are 
 
 VOL. I R
 
 242 A REFUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 swords drawn ; there will be bloodshed if you 
 do not come.' 
 
 He obeyed the summons without further 
 query, for when all men wore swords the 
 neighbourhood of a garrison was only too 
 liable to such encounters outside. There 
 was no need for her to gasp more ; from the 
 very cottage door he could see the need of 
 haste, for the swords were actually flashing, 
 and the two young men in position to fight. 
 Anne shook her head, unable to do more than 
 sign her thanks to the good woman of the 
 cottage, who offered her a seat. She leant 
 against the door, and watched as her uncle, 
 sending his voice before him, called on them 
 to desist. 
 
 There was a start, then each drew back 
 and held down his weapon, but with a menac- 
 ing gesture on one side, a shrug of the 
 shoulders on the other, which impelled the 
 Doctor to use double speed in the fear that 
 the parting might be with a challenge 
 reserved. 
 
 He was in time to stand warning, and 
 arguing that If he pardoned the slighting 
 words and condoned the insult to his niece,
 
 XII THE ONE HOPE 243 
 
 no one held a right to exact vengeance ; and 
 in truth, whatever were his arguments, he so 
 dealt with the two young men as to force 
 them into shaking hands before they separated, 
 though with a contemptuous look on either 
 side — a scowl from Sedley, a sneer from 
 Peregrine, boding ill for the future, and 
 making him sigh. 
 
 'Ah! sister, sister, you judged aright. 
 Would that I could have sent the maid sooner 
 away rather than that all this ill blood should 
 have been bred. Yet I may only be sending 
 her to greater temptation and danger. But 
 she is a good maiden ; God bless her and keep 
 her here and there, now and for evermore, as 
 I trust He keepeth our good Dr. Ken in this 
 sore strait. The trial may even now be over. 
 Ah, my child, here you are ! Frightened 
 were you by that rude fellow .^ Nay, I 
 believe you were almost equally terrified by 
 him who came to the rescue. You will soon 
 be out of their reach, my dear.' 
 
 'Yes, that is one great comfort in going,' 
 sighed Anne. One comfort — yes — though 
 she would not have stayed had the choice 
 been given her now. And shall the thouq-ht
 
 244 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap, xii 
 
 be told that flashed over her and coloured 
 her cheeks with a sort of shame yet of pleasure, 
 ' I surely must have power over men ! I know 
 mother would say it is a terrible danger one 
 way, and a great gift another. I will not 
 misuse it ; but what will it bring me ? Or 
 am I only a rustic beauty after all, who will 
 be nobody elsewhere ?' 
 
 Still heartily she wished that her rescuer 
 had been any one else in the wide world. It 
 was almost uncanny that he should have 
 sprung out of the earth at such a moment.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE BONFIRE 
 
 ' From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, 
 From Lynn to Milford Bay, 
 That time of slumber was as 
 
 Bright and busy as the day ; 
 For swift to east and swift to west 
 
 The fiery herald sped. 
 High on St. Michael's Mount it shone : 
 It shone on Beachy Head.' 
 
 MACAULAY. 
 
 Dr. Woodford and his niece had not 
 lone reached their own door when the clatter 
 of a horse's hoofs was heard, and Charles 
 Archfield was seen, waving his hat and 
 shoutinor 'Hurrah!' before he came near 
 enough to speak. 
 
 ' Good news, I see ! ' said the Doctor. 
 
 ' Good news indeed ! Not guilty ! Express 
 rode from Westminster Hall with the news 
 at ten o'clock this morning. All acquitted.
 
 246 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 Expresses could hardly get away for the 
 hurrahing of the people. Hurrah ! hurrah ! 
 hurrah!' cried the young man, throwing up 
 his hat, while Dr. Woodford, taking off 
 his own, gave graver, deeper thanks that 
 justice was yet in England, that these noble 
 and honoured confessors were safe, and that 
 the King had been saved from further injustice 
 and violence to the Church. 
 
 ' We are to have a bonfire on Portsdown 
 Hill,' added Charles. ' They will be all round 
 the country, in the Island, and everywhere. 
 My father is rid one way to spread the tidings, 
 and give orders. I'm going on into Ports- 
 mouth, to see after tar barrels. You'll be 
 there, sir, and you, Anne ?' There was a 
 moment's hesitation after the day's encounters, 
 but he added, ' My mother is going, and my 
 little Madam, and Lucy. They will call for 
 you in the coach if you will be at Ryder's 
 cottage at nine o'clock. It will not be dark 
 enough to light up till ten, so there will be 
 time to get a noble pile ready. Come, Anne, 
 'tis Lucy's last chance of seeing you — so 
 strange as you have made yourself of late.' 
 
 This plea decided Anne, who had been on
 
 XIII THE BONFIRE 247 
 
 the point of declaring that she should have 
 an excellent view from ihc top of the keep. 
 However, not only did she long to see Lucy 
 again, but the enthusiasm was contagious, 
 and there was an attraction in the centre of 
 popular rejoicing that drew both her and her 
 uncle, nor could there be a doubt of her being 
 sufficiently protected when among the Arch- 
 field ladies. So the arrangement was acce2:)ted, 
 and then there was the cry — 
 
 'Hark! the Havant bells! Ay! and the 
 Cosham ! Portsmouth is pealing out. That's 
 Alverstoke. They know it there. A salute ! 
 Another.' 
 
 ' Scarce loyal from the King's ships,' said 
 the Doctor smiling. 
 
 ' Nay, 'tis only loyalty to rejoice that the 
 King can't make a fool of himself. So my 
 father says,' rejoined Charles. 
 
 And that seemed to be the mood of all 
 England, When Anne and her uncle set 
 forth in the summer sunset lioht the Q-reat 
 hill above them was dark with the multitudes 
 thronging around the huge pyre rising in the 
 midst. They rested for some minutes at the 
 cottage indicated before the arrival of Sir
 
 248 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 Philip, who rode up accompanying the coach 
 in which his three ladies were seated, and 
 which was quite large enough to receive Dr. 
 Woodford and Mistress Anne. Charles was 
 in the throng, in the midst of most of the 
 younger gentlemen of the neighbourhood, 
 and a good many of the naval and military 
 officers, directing the arrangement of the pile. 
 
 What a scene it was, as seen even from 
 the windows of the coach where the ladies 
 remained, for the multitude of sailors, soldiers, 
 town and village people, though all unanimous, 
 were far too tumultuous for them to venture 
 beyond their open door, especially as little 
 Mrs. Archfield was very far from well, and 
 nothing but her eagerness for amusement 
 could have brought her hither, and of course 
 she could not be left. Probably she knew as 
 little of the real bearings of the case or the 
 cause of rejoicing as did the boys who per- 
 vaded everything with their squibs, and were 
 only restrained from firing them in the faces 
 of the horses by wholesome fear of the big 
 whips of the coachman and outriders who 
 stood at the horses' heads. 
 
 It was hardly yet dark when the match
 
 XIII THE BONFIRE 249 
 
 was put to the shavings, and to the sound of 
 the loud ' Hurrahs !' and cries of ' Long hve 
 the Bishops!' 'Down with the Pope!' the 
 flame kindled, crackled, and leapt up, while a 
 responsive fire was seen on St. Catherine's 
 Down in the Isle of Wight, and northward, 
 eastward, westward, on every available point, 
 each new light greeted by fresh acclamations, 
 as it shone out against the summer night sky, 
 while the ships in the harbour showed their 
 lights, reflected in the sea, as the sky grew 
 darker. Then came a procession of sailors 
 and other rough folk, bearing between poles 
 a chair with a stuffed figure with a kind of 
 tiara, followed by others with scarlet hats and 
 capes, and with reiterated shouts of 'Down 
 with the Pope !' these were hurled into the 
 fire with deafeninfy hurrahs, their more 
 gorgeous trappings being cleverly twitched 
 off at the last moment, as part of the properties 
 for the 5th of November. 
 
 Little Mrs. Archfield clapped her hands 
 and screamed with delight as each fresh blaze 
 shot up, and chattered with all her might, 
 sometimes about some lace and perfumes 
 which she wanted Anne to procure for her in
 
 2 50 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 London at the sign of the Flower Pot, some- 
 times grumbling at her husband having gone 
 off to the midst of the party closest to the fire, 
 ' Just like Mr. Archfield, always leaving her 
 to herself,' but generally very well amused, 
 especially when a group of gentlemen, officers, 
 and county neighbours gathered round the 
 open door talking to the ladies within. 
 
 Peregrine was there with his hands in his 
 pockets, and a queer ironical smile writhing 
 his features. He was asked if his father and 
 brother were present. 
 
 'Not my father,' he replied. ' He has a 
 logical mind. Martha is up here with her 
 guardian, and I am keeping out of her way, 
 and my brother is full in the thick of the fray. 
 A bonfire is a bonfire to most folks, were it 
 to roast their grandsire !' 
 
 ' Oh, fie, Master Oakshott, how you do 
 talk!' laughed Mrs. Archfield. 
 
 ' Nay, but you rejoice in the escape of the 
 good Bishops,' put in Lucy. 
 
 ' For what ?' asked Perecrrine. ' For 
 refusing to say live and let live ?' 
 
 ' Not against letting live, but against saying 
 so unconstitutionally, my young friend,' said
 
 Mil THE BONFIRE 
 
 Dr. Woodford, ' or tyrannising ov^er our 
 consciences.' 
 
 Generally Peregrine was more respectful 
 to Ur. Woodford than to any one else ; but 
 there seemed to be a reckless bitterness about 
 him on that night, and he said, ' I marvel 
 with what face those same Right Reverend 
 Seigniors will preach against the French 
 King.' 
 
 'Sir,' thrust in Sedley Archfield, 'I am 
 not to hear opprobrious epithets applied to 
 the Bishops.' 
 
 'What was the opprobrium?' lazily de- 
 manded Peregrine, and in spite of his unpopu- 
 larity, the laugh was with him. Sedley grew 
 more angry. 
 
 ' You likened them to the French 
 King ' 
 
 ' The most splendid monarch in Europe,' 
 said Peregrine coolly. 
 
 ' A Frenchman ! ' quoth one of the young 
 squires with withering contempt. 
 
 ' He has that ill fortune, sir,' said Peregrine. 
 ' Mayhap he would be sensible of the dis- 
 advantage, if he evened himself with some of 
 mv reasonable countrymen.'
 
 252 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 'Do you mean that for an insult, sir?' 
 exclaimed Sedley Archfield, striding forward. 
 
 'As you please,' said Peregrine. 'Tome 
 it had the sound of compliment.' 
 
 ' Oh la ! they'll fight,' cried Mrs. Archfield. 
 ' Don't let them ! Where's the Doctor ? 
 Where's Sir Philip ?' 
 
 ' Hush, my dear,' said Lady Archfield ; 
 ' these eentlemen would not fall out close 
 to us.' 
 
 Dr. Woodford was out of sight, having 
 been drawn into controversy with a fellow- 
 clergyman on the limits of toleration. Anne 
 looked anxiously for him, but with provoking 
 coolness Peregrine presently said, ' There's 
 no crowd near, and if you will step out, the 
 fires on the farther hills are to be seen well 
 from the knoll hard by.' 
 
 He spoke chiefly to Anne, but even if she 
 had not a kind of shrinking from trusting 
 herself with him in this strange wild scene, 
 she would have been prevented by Mrs. 
 Archfield's eager cry — 
 
 'Oh, I'll come, let me come! I'm so 
 weary of sitting here. Thank you, Master 
 Oakshott.'
 
 XIII THE BONFIRE 253 
 
 Lady Archfield's remonstrance was lost 
 as Peregrine helped the little lady out, and 
 there was nothing for it but to follow her, as 
 close as might be, as she hunc^ on her cavalier's 
 arm chattering, and now and then giving litde 
 screams of delight or alarm. Lady Archfield 
 and her daughter each was instantly squired, 
 but Mistress Woodford, a nobody, was left to 
 keep as near them as she could, and gaze at 
 the sparks of light of the beacons in the 
 distance, thinking how changed the morrow 
 would be to her. 
 
 Presently a figure approached, and Charles 
 Archfield's voice said, ' Is that you, Anne ? 
 Did I hear my wife's voice ?' 
 
 ' Yes, she is there.' 
 
 ' And with that imp of evil ! I would his 
 own folk had him I' muttered Charles, dashing 
 forward with ' How now, madam ? you were 
 not to leave the coach ! ' 
 
 She laughed exultingly. 'Ha, sir! see 
 what comes of leavinor me to better cavaliers, 
 while you run after your fire ! I should have 
 seen nothing but for ?^hister Oakshott.' 
 
 'Come with me now,' said Charles; 'you 
 oueht not to be standincr here in the dew.'
 
 -54 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 ' Ha. ha ! what a jealous master,' she said; 
 l)ut she put her arm into his, saying with a 
 courtesy, ' Thank you. Master Oakshott, lords 
 must be obeyed. I should have been still 
 buried in the old coach but for you.' 
 
 Peres^rine fell back to Anne. ' That blaze 
 is at St. Helen's,' he began. 'That — what! 
 will you not wait a moment } ' 
 
 ' No, no ! They will want to be going 
 home.' 
 
 ' And have you forgotten that it is only 
 just over Midsummer ? This is the week of 
 my third seventh — -the moment for change. 
 O Anne ! make it a chanQfe for the better. 
 Say the word, and the die will be cast. All 
 is ready ! Come !' 
 
 He tried to take her hand, but the vehem- 
 ence of his words, spoken under his breath, 
 terrified her, and with a hasty 'No, no ! you 
 know not what you talk of,' she hastened 
 after her friends, and was glad to find herself 
 in the safe haven of the interior of the coach. 
 
 Ere long they drove down the hill, and at 
 the place of parting were set down, the last 
 words in Anne's ears being Mrs. Archfield's 
 injunctions not to forget the orange flower-
 
 XIII THE BONFIRE 255 
 
 water at the sign of the Flower Pot, drowning 
 Lucy's tearful farewells. 
 
 As they walked away in the moonlight a 
 figure was seen in the distance. 
 
 'Is that Peregrine Oakshott?' asked the 
 Doctor. ' That young man is in a desperate 
 mood, ready to put a quarrel on any one. I 
 hope no harm will come of it.'
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 GATHERING MOUSE-EAR 
 
 ' I heard the groans, I marked the tears, 
 I saw the wound his bosom bore.' 
 
 Scott. 
 
 After such an evening it was not easy to 
 fall asleep, and Anne tossed about, heated, 
 restless, and uneasy, feeling that to remain 
 at home was impossible, yet less satisfied 
 about her future prospects, and doubtful 
 whether she had not done herself harm by 
 attending last night's rejoicings, and hoping 
 that nothing would happen to reveal her 
 presence there. 
 
 She was glad that the night was not longer, 
 and resolved to take advantage of the early 
 morning to fulfil a commission of Lady Ogle- 
 thorpe, whose elder children, Lewis and Theo- 
 philus, had the whooping-cough. Mouse-ear,
 
 CHAP. XIV GATHERING MOUSE-EAR 257 
 
 namely, the little sulphur-coloured hawk-weed, 
 was, and still is, accounted a specific, and Anne 
 had been requested to bring a supply — a 
 thing easily done, since it grew plentifijlly in 
 the court of the castle. 
 
 She dressed herself in haste, made some 
 of her preparations for the journey, and let 
 herself out of the house, fyoino;- first for one 
 last look at her mother's green grave in the 
 dewy churchyard, and gathering from it a 
 daisy, which she put into her bosom, then in 
 the fair morning freshness, and exhilaration 
 of the rising sun, crossing the wide tilt-yard, 
 among haycocks waiting to be tossed, and 
 arriving at the court within, filling her basket 
 between the churchyard and the gateway 
 tower and keep, when standing up for a 
 moment she was extremely startled to see 
 Pereofrine Oakshott's unmistakable fifjure 
 entering at the postern of the court. 
 
 With vague fears of his intentions, and 
 instinctive terror of meeting him alone, 
 heightened by that dread of his power, she 
 fiew in at the great bailey tower door, hoping 
 that he had not seen her, but tolerably secure 
 that even if he had, and should pursue her, 
 
 VOL. I s
 
 258 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 she was sufficiently superior in knowledge of 
 the stairs and passages to baffle him, and 
 make her way along the battlements to the 
 tower at the corner of the court nearest the 
 parsonage, where there was a turret stair by 
 which she could escape. 
 
 Up the broken stairs she went, shutting 
 behind her every available door in the 
 chambers and passages, but not as quickly as 
 she wished, since attention to her feet was 
 needful in the ruinous state of steps and walls. 
 Through these massive walls she could hear 
 nothing distinctly, but she fancied voices and 
 a cry, making her seek more intricate wind- 
 ings, nor did she dare to look out till she had 
 gained a thick screen of bushy ivy at the 
 corner of the turret, where a little door 
 opened on the broad summit of the battle- 
 mented wall. 
 
 Then, what horror was it that she beheld } 
 Or was it a dream } She even passed her 
 hands over her face and looked again. Pere- 
 grine and Charles, yes, it was Charles Arch- 
 field, were fighting with swords in the court 
 beneath. She gave a shriek, in a wild hope 
 of parting them, but at that instant she saw
 
 XIV GATHERING MOUSE-EAR 259 
 
 Peregrine fall, and with the impulse of rushing 
 to aid she hurried down, impeded, however, by- 
 stumbles, and by the doors she herself had 
 shut, and when she emerged, she saw only 
 Charles, standing like one dazed and white 
 as death. 
 
 'O Mr. Archfield! where is he .^ What 
 have you done.'*' 
 
 The young man pointed to the opening of 
 the vault. Then, speaking with an effort, 
 ' He was quite dead ; my sword went through 
 him. He forced it on me — he was pursuing 
 you. I withstood him — and ' 
 
 He gasped heavily as the words came one 
 by one. She trembled exceedingly, and 
 would have looked into the vault, with, ' Are 
 you quite sure?' but he grasped her hand 
 and withheld her. 
 
 ' Only too sure ! Yes, I have done it ! It 
 could not be helped. I would give myself 
 up at once, but, Anne, there is my wife. 
 They tell me any shock would kill her as she 
 is now. I should be double murderer. Will 
 you keep the secret, Anne, always my friend ? 
 And 'twas for you.' 
 
 • Indeed, indeed, I will not betray you. I
 
 26o A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 go away in two hours,' said Anne ; and he 
 caught her hand. ' But oh !' and she pointed 
 to the blood on the grass, then with sudden 
 thought, ' Heap the hay over it,' running to 
 fill her arms with the lately-cut grass. 
 
 He mechanically did the same, and then 
 they stood for a moment, awe-stricken. 
 
 ' God forgive me ! ' said the poor young 
 man. 'How to hide it I hardly know, but 
 for ker sake — ah, 'twas that brought me here. 
 She could not rest last night till I had pro- 
 mised to be here early enough in the morning 
 to give you a piece of sarcenet to be matched 
 in London. Where is it .^ Ah! I forget. It 
 seems to be ages ago that she was insisting 
 that I should ride over so as to be in time.' 
 
 ' Lucy must write, ' said Anne. ' O Charley ! 
 wipe that dreadful sword ; look like yourself. 
 1 am going in a couple of hours. There is 
 no fear of me ! but oh ! that you should have 
 done such a thing ! and through me ! ' 
 
 ' Hush ! hush ! don't talk. I must be 
 gone ere folks are about. My horse is out- 
 side.' He wrung her hand and kissed it, 
 forgetting to give her the pattern, and Anne, 
 still stunned, walked back to the parsonage,
 
 XIV GATHERING MOUSE-EAR 261 
 
 her one thoucjht how to control herself so as 
 to guard Charles's secret. 
 
 It must be remembered that in the genera- 
 tion succeeding that which had fought a long 
 civil war, and when duels were common 
 assertions of honour and self-respect among 
 young gentlemen, homicide was not so ex- 
 ceptional and heinous an offence in ordinary 
 eyes as when a higher value has come to be 
 set on life, and acts of violence are far less 
 frequent. 
 
 Charles had drawn his sword in fair fight, 
 and in her own defence, and thus it was 
 natural that Anne Woodford should think of 
 his deed, certainly with a shudder, but with 
 more of pity than of horror, and with grati- 
 tude that made her feel bound to do her 
 utmost to guard him from the consequences ; 
 also there was a sense of relief, and perhaps a 
 feeling as if the victim were scarcely a human 
 creature like others. It never occurred to 
 her till some time after to recollect it would 
 have had an unpleasant sound that she had 
 been the occasion of such an ' unseemly 
 brawl ' between two young men, one of them 
 a married man. When the thoucrht occurred
 
 262 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 to her it made the blood rush hotly to her 
 cheeks. 
 
 It was well for her that the pain of leaving 
 home and the bustle of preparation concealed 
 that she had suffered a great shock, and 
 accounted for her not being able to taste any 
 breakfast beyond a draught of milk. Her 
 ears were intent all the time to perceive 
 any token whether the haymakers had come 
 into the court and had discovered any trace 
 of the ghastly thing in the vault, and she 
 hardly heard the kind words of her uncle or 
 the coaxings of his old housekeeper. She 
 dreaded especially the sight of Hans, so 
 fondly attached to his master's nephew, and 
 it was with a sense of infinite relief — instead 
 of the tender grief otherwise natural — that 
 she was seated in the boat for Portsmouth, 
 and her uncle believing her to be crying, left 
 her undisturbed till she had composed herself 
 to wear the front that she knew was needful, 
 however her heart might throb beneath it, 
 and as their boat threaded its way through 
 the ships, even then numerous, she looked 
 wistfully up at the tall tower of the castle, 
 with earnest prayers for the living, and a
 
 XIV GATHERING MOUSE-EAR 263 
 
 longing she durst not utter, to ask her uncle 
 whether it were right to pray for the poor 
 strange, struggling soul, always so cruelly 
 misunderstood, and now so summarily dis- 
 missed from the world of trial. 
 
 Yet presently there was a revulsion of 
 feeling as she was roused from her medita- 
 tions by the coxswain's answer to her uncle, 
 who had asked what was a smart, swift little 
 smack, which after receiving something from 
 a boat, began stretching her wings and mak- 
 ing all sail for the Isle of Wight. 
 
 The men looked significant and hesitated. 
 
 ' Smugglers, eh ? Traders in French 
 brandy ? ' asked the Doctor. 
 
 ' Well, your reverence, so they says. 
 They be a rough lot out there by at the back 
 of the Island.' 
 
 * There would be small harm in lettinof a 
 poor man get a drink of spirits cheap to 
 warm his heart,' said one of the other men ; 
 ' but they say as how 'tis a very nest of 'em 
 out there, and that's how no one can ever 
 pitch on the highwaymen, such as robbed 
 Farmer Vine t'other day a-coming home 
 from market.'
 
 264 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 'They do say,' added the other, 'that 
 there's them as ought to know better that is 
 thick with them. There's that young master 
 up at Oakwood — that crooked sHp as they 
 used to say was a changeHng — gets out o' 
 window o' nights and sails with them.' 
 
 .' He has nought to do with the robberies, 
 they say,' added the coxswain ; ' but I could 
 tell of many a young spark who has gone out 
 with the fair traders for the sport's sake, and 
 because gentle folk don't know what to do 
 with their time.' 
 
 ' And they do say the young chap is kept 
 uncommon tight at home.' 
 
 Here the sight of a vessel of war coming 
 in changed the topic, but it had given Anne 
 something more to think of. Peregrine had 
 spoken of means arranged for making her 
 his own. Could that smuggling yacht have 
 anything to do with them ? He could hardly 
 have reckoned on meeting her alone in the 
 morning, but he might have attempted to 
 find her thus — or failing that, he might have 
 run down the boat. If so, she had a great 
 deliverance to be thankful for, and Charles's 
 timely appearance had been a great blessing.
 
 XIV GATHERING MOUSE-EAR 265 
 
 But Peregrine! poor Peregrine! it became 
 doubly terrible that he should have perished 
 on the eve of such a deed. It was cruel to 
 entertain such thoughts of the dead, yet it 
 was equally impossible not to feel comfort in 
 being rid for ever of one who had certainly 
 justified the vague alarm which he had 
 always excited in her. She could not grieve 
 for him now that the first shock was over, but 
 she must suppress all tokens of her extreme 
 anxiety on account of Charles Archfield. 
 
 Thus she was landed at Portsmouth, and 
 walked up the street to the Spotted Dog, 
 where Lady Worsley was taking an early 
 noonchine before starting for London, hav- 
 ing crossed from the little fishing village of 
 Rycle. Here Anne parted with her uncle, 
 who promised an early letter, though she 
 could hardly restrain a shudder at the 
 thouo^ht of the tidiness that it mio;ht contain.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 NEWS FROM FAREHAM 
 
 ' My soul its secret hath, my life too hath its mystery. 
 Hopeless the evil is, 1 have not told its history.' 
 
 Jean Ingelow. 
 
 Lady Worsley was a handsome, command- 
 ing old dame, who soon made her charge feel 
 the social gulf between a county magnate and 
 a clergyman's niece. She decidedly thought 
 that Mistress Anne Jacoblna held her head 
 too high for her position, and was, moreover, 
 conceited of an unfortunate amount of good 
 looks. 
 
 Therefore the good lady did her best to 
 repress these dangerous tendencies by making 
 the eirl sit on the back seat with two maids, and 
 uttering long lectures on humility, modesty, 
 and discretion which made the blood of the 
 sea captain's daughter boil with indignation.
 
 CHAP. XV NEWS FROM FARE HAM 267 
 
 Yet she always carried with her the dread 
 of being pursued and called upon to accuse 
 Charles Archfield of Peregrine's death. It 
 was a perpetual cloud, dispersed, indeed, for 
 a time by the events of the day, but returning 
 at night, when not only was the combat acted 
 over again, but when she fell asleep it was 
 only to be pursued by Peregrine through 
 endless vaulted dens of darkness, or, what 
 was far worse, to be trying to hide a stream 
 of blood that could never be stanched. 
 
 It was no wonder that she looked pale in 
 the morning, and felt so tired and dejected 
 as to make her sensible that she was cast 
 loose from home and friends when no one 
 troubled her with remarks or inquiries such 
 as she could hardly have answered. How- 
 ever, when, on the evening of the second 
 day's journey, Anne was set down at Sir 
 Theophilus Oglethorpe's house at West- 
 minster, she met with a very different 
 reception. 
 
 Lady Oglethorpe, a handsome, warm- 
 hearted Irishwoman, met her at once in the 
 hall with outstretched hands, and a kiss on 
 each cheek.
 
 268 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 ' Come in, my dear, my poor orphan, the 
 daughter of one who was very dear to me ! 
 Ah, how you have grown ! I could never 
 have thought this was the Htde Anne I recol- 
 lect. You shall come up to your chamber 
 at once, and rest you, and make ready for 
 supper, by the time Sir Theophilus comes in 
 from attending the King,' 
 
 Anne found herself installed in a fresh- 
 smelling wainscotted room, where a glass of 
 wine and some cake was ready for her, and 
 where she 'made herself ready, feeling exhil- 
 arated in spirits as she performed her toilet, 
 putting on her black evening dress, and 
 refreshing the curls of her brown hair. It 
 was a simple dress of deep mourning, but it 
 became her well, and the two or three gentle- 
 men who had come in to supper with Sir 
 Theophilus evidently admired her greatly, 
 and complimented her on having a situation 
 at Court, which was all that Lady Oglethorpe 
 mentioned. 
 
 'Child,' she said afterwards, when they 
 were in private, ' if I had known what you 
 looked like I would have sought a different 
 position for you. But, there, to get one's
 
 XV NEWS FROM FAREHAM 269 
 
 foot — were it but the toe of one's shoe — in at 
 Court is the great point after all, the rest 
 must come after. I warrant me you are well 
 educated too. Can you speak French ? ' 
 
 'Oh yes, madam, and Italian, and dance 
 and play on the spinnet. I was with two 
 French ladies at Winchester every winter 
 who taught such things.' 
 
 ' Well, well, mayhap we may get you pro- 
 moted to a sub -governess's place — though 
 your religion is against you. You are not a 
 Catholic — eh ?' 
 
 ' No, your ladyship.' 
 
 ' That's the only road to favour nowadays, 
 though for the name of the thing they may 
 have a Protestant or two. You are the 
 King's godchild too, so he will expect it the 
 more from you. However, we may find a 
 better path. You have not left your heart in 
 the country, eh ?' 
 
 Anne blushed and denied it. 
 
 ' You will be mewed up close enough in 
 the nursery,' ran on Lady Oglethorpe. * Lady 
 Powys keeps close discipline there, and I 
 expect she will be disconcerted to see how 
 fine a fish I have brought to her net ; but we
 
 270 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 will see — we will see how matters go. But, 
 my dear, have you no coloured clothes ? 
 There is no appearing in the Royal house- 
 hold in private mourning. It might daunt 
 the Prince's spirits in his cradle!' and she 
 laughed, though Anne felt much annoyed at 
 thus disregarding her mother, as well as at 
 the heavy expense. However, there was no 
 help for it ; the gowns and laces hidden in 
 the bottom of her mails were disinterred, and 
 the former were for the most part condemned, 
 so that she had to submit to a fresh outfit, in' 
 which Lady Oglethorpe heartily interested 
 herself, but which drained the purse that the 
 Canon had amply supplied. 
 
 These arrangements were not complete 
 when the first letter from home arrived, and 
 was opened with a beating heart, and furtive 
 glances as of one who feared to see the con- 
 tents, but they were by no means what she 
 expected. 
 
 I hope you have arrived safely in London, and that 
 you are not displeased with your first taste of life in a 
 Court. Neither town nor country is exempt from sorrow 
 and death. I was summoned only on the second day 
 after your departure to share in the sorrows at Archfield, 
 where the poor young wife died early on Friday morning,
 
 XV NEWS FROM FAREHAM 271 
 
 leaving a living infant, a son, who, I hope, may prove a 
 blessing to them, if he is spared, which can scarcely be 
 expected. The poor young man, and indeed all the 
 family, are in the utmost distress, and truly there were 
 circumstances that render the event more than usually 
 deplorable, and for which he blames himself exceedingly, 
 even to despair. It appears that the poor young gentle- 
 woman wished to add some trifle to the numerous com- 
 missions with which she was entrusting you on the night 
 of the bonfire, and that she could not be pacified except 
 by her husband undertaking to ride over to give the 
 patterns and the orders to you before your setting forth. 
 You said nothing of having seen him — nor do I see how 
 it was possible that you could have done so, seeing that 
 you only left your chamber just before the breakfast that 
 you never tasted, my poor child. He never returned 
 till long after noon, and what with fretting after him, and 
 disappointment, that happened which Lady Archfield 
 had always apprehended, and the poor fragile young 
 creature worked herself into a state which ended before 
 midnight in the birth of a puny babe, and her own death 
 shortly after. She wanted two months of completing 
 her sixteenth year, and was of so frail a constitution 
 that Dr. Brown had never much hope of her surviving 
 the birth of her child. It was a cruel thing to marry 
 her thus early, ungrown in body or mind, but she had 
 no one to care for her before she was brought hither. 
 The blame, as I tell Sir Philip, and would fain persuade 
 poor Charles, is really with those who bred her up so 
 uncontrolled as to be the victim of her humours ; but 
 the unhappy youth will listen to no consolation. He 
 calls himself a murderer, shuts himself up, and for the 
 most part will sec and speak to no one, but if forced
 
 272 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 by his father's command to unlock his chamber door, 
 returns at once to sit with his head hidden in his arms 
 crossed upon the table, and if father, mother, or sister 
 strive to rouse him and obtain answer from him, he will 
 only murmur forth, ' I should only make it worse if I 
 did.' It is piteous to see a youth so utterly overcome, 
 and truly I think his condition is a greater distress to 
 our good friends than the loss of the poor young wife. 
 They asked him what name he would have given to his 
 child, but all the answer they could get was, ' As you 
 will, only not mine ; ' and in the enforced absence of 
 my brother of Fareham I baptized him Philip. The 
 funeral will take place to-morrow, and Sir Philip proposes 
 immediately after to take his son to Oxford, and there 
 endeavour to find a tutor of mature age and of prudence, 
 with whom he may either study at New College or be 
 sent on the grand tour. It is the only notion that the 
 poor lad has seemed willing to entertain, as if to get 
 away from his misery, and I cannot but think it well for 
 him. He is not yet twenty, and may, as it were, begin 
 life again the wiser and the better man for his present 
 extreme sorrow. Lady Arch field is greatly wrapped up 
 in the care of the babe, who, I fear, is in danger of being 
 killed by overcare, if by nothing else, though truly all is 
 in the hands of God. I have scarce quitted the afflicted 
 family since I was summoned to them on Friday, since 
 Sir Philip has no one else on whom to depend for com- 
 fort or counsel ; and if I can obtain the services of Mr. 
 Ellis from Portsmouth for a few Sundays, I shall ride 
 with him to Oxford to assist in the choice of a tutor to 
 go abroad with Mr. Archfield. 
 
 One interruption, however, I had, namely, from Major 
 Oakshott, who came in great perturbation to ask what
 
 XV NEWS FROM FARE HAM 27-^ 
 
 was the last I had seen of his son Peregrine. It appears 
 that the unfortunate young man never returned home 
 after the bonfire on Portsdown Hill, where his brother 
 Robert lost sight of him, and after waiting as long as he 
 durst, returned home alone. It has become known that 
 after parting with us high words passed between him and 
 Lieutenant Sedley Archfield, insomuch that after the 
 unhappy fashion of these times blood was demanded, 
 and early in the morning Sedley sent the friend who was 
 to act as second to bear the challenge to young Oak- 
 shott. You can conceive the reception that he was 
 likely to receive at Oakwood ; but it was then discovered 
 that Peregrine had not been in his bed all night, nor 
 had any one seen or heard of him. Sedley boasts loudly 
 that the youngster has fled the country for fear of him, 
 and truly things have that appearance, although to my 
 mind Peregrine was far from wanting in spirit or courage. 
 But, as he had not received the cartel, he might not 
 have deemed his honour engaged to await it, and I 
 incline to the belief that he is on his way to his uncle in 
 Muscovy, driven thereto by his dread of the marriage 
 with the gentlewoman whom he holds in so much 
 aversion. I have striven to console his father by the 
 assurance that such tidings of him will surely arrive in 
 due time, but the Major is bitterly grieved, and is galled 
 by the accusation of cowardice. ' He could not even 
 be true to his own maxims of worldly honour,' says the 
 poor gentleman. ' So true it is that only by grace we 
 stand fast.' The which is true enough, but the poor 
 gendeman unwittingly did his best to make grace unac- 
 ceptable in his son's eyes. I trust soon to hear again 
 of you, my dear child. I rejoice that Lady Oglethorpe 
 is so good to you, and I hope that in the palace you 
 VOL. I T
 
 274 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 will guard first your faith and then your discretion. 
 And so praying always for your welfare, alike spiritual 
 and temporal. — Your loving uncle, 
 
 Jno. Woodford. 
 
 Truly it was well that Anne had secluded 
 herself to read this letter. 
 
 So the actual cause for w^hich poor Charles 
 Archfield had entreated silence was at an 
 end. The very evil he had apprehended had 
 come to pass, and she could well understand 
 how, on his return in a horror-stricken, dis- 
 tracted state of mind, the childish petulance 
 of his wife had worried him into loss of 
 temper, so that he hardly knew what he said. 
 And what must not his agony of remorse 
 be ? She could scarcely imagine how he had 
 avoided confessing all as a mere relief to 
 his mind, but then she reflected that when 
 he called himself a murderer the words 
 were taken in another sense, and no ques- 
 tions asked, nor would he be willing to 
 add such grief and shame to his parents' 
 present burthen, especially as no suspicion 
 existed. 
 
 That Peregrine's fate had not been dis- 
 covered greatly relieved her. She believed
 
 XV NEWS FROM FAREHAM 275 
 
 the vault to go down to a considerable depth 
 after a first platform of stone near the opening, 
 and it was generally avoided as the haunt of 
 hobgoblins, fairies, or evil beings, so that no 
 one was likely to be in its immediate neigh- 
 bourhood after the hay was carried, so that 
 there might have been nothing to attract any 
 one to the near neio^hbourhood and thus lead 
 to the discovery. If not made by this time, 
 Charles would be far away, and there was 
 nothing to connect him with the deed. No 
 one save herself had even known of his 
 havinof been near the castle that morningr. 
 How strange that the only persons aware of 
 that terrible secret should be so far separated 
 from one another that they could exchange 
 no confidences ; and each was compelled to 
 absolute silence. For as long as no one else 
 was suspected, Anne felt her part must be 
 not to betray Charles, though the bare pos- 
 sibility of the accusation of another was agony 
 to her. 
 
 She wrote her condolences in due form to 
 Fareham, and in due time was answered by 
 Lucy Archfield. The letter was full of details 
 about the infant, who seemed to absorb her
 
 276 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 and her mother, and to be as Hkely to Hve as 
 any child of those days ever was — and it was 
 in his favour that his crrandmother and her 
 old nurse had better notions of management 
 than most of her contemporaries. In spite 
 of all that Lucy said of her brother's over- 
 whelming grief, and the melancholy of thus 
 parting with him, there was a strain of 
 cheerfulness throughout the letter, betray- 
 ing that the poor young wife of less than 
 a year was no very great loss to the peace 
 and comfort of the family. The letter ended 
 with— 
 
 There is a report that Sir Peregrine Oakshott is dead 
 in Muscovy. Nothing has been heard of that unfortun- 
 ate young man at Oakwood. If he be gone in quest 
 of his uncle, I wonder what will become of him ? How- 
 ever, nurse will have it that this being the third seventh 
 year of his life, the fairies have carried off their change- 
 ling — you remember how she told us the story of his 
 being changed as an infant, when we were children at 
 Winchester ; she believes it as much as ever, and never 
 let little Philip out of her sight before he was baptized. 
 I ask her, if the changeling be gone, where is the true 
 Peregrine ? but she only wags her head in answer. 
 
 A day or two later Anne heard from her 
 uncle from Oxford. He was extremely
 
 XV NEWS FROM FA RE HA Jf 277 
 
 Qfrievedat the condition of his beloved alma 
 mater, with a Roman CathoHc Master reign- 
 ing at University College, a doctor from the 
 Sorbonne and Fellows to match, inflicted by 
 military force on Magdalen, whose lawful 
 children had been ejected with a violence 
 beyond anything that the colleges had suffered 
 even in the time of the Rebellion. If things 
 went on as they were, he pronounced Oxford 
 would be no better than a Popish seminary : 
 and he had the more readily induced his old 
 friend to consent to Charles's desire not to 
 remain there as a student, but to go abroad 
 with Mr. Fellowes, one of the expelled fellows 
 of Magdalen, a clergyman of mature age, but 
 a man of the world, who had already acted 
 as a travelling tutor. Considering that the 
 young widower was not yet twenty, and that 
 all his wife's wealth would be in his hands, 
 also that his cousin Sedley formed a dangerous 
 link with the questionable diversions of the 
 garrison at Portsmouth, both father and friend 
 felt that it was well that he should be out of 
 reach, and have other occupations for the 
 present. 
 
 Change of scene had, Dr. Woodford said,
 
 272, A REPUTED CHANGELING chap, xv 
 
 brightened the poor youth, and he was show- 
 ing more interest in passing events, but 
 probably he would never again be the light- 
 hearted boy they used to know. 
 Anne could well believe it.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 A ROYAL NURSERY 
 
 ' The duty that I owe unto your Majesty 
 I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe.' 
 
 King Richard III. 
 
 It was not till the Oueen had moved from 
 St. James's, where her son had been born, 
 to take up her abode at Whitehall, that Lady 
 Oglethorpe was considered to be disinfected 
 from her children's whooping-cough, and could 
 conduct Mistress Anne Jacobina Woodford 
 to her new situation. 
 
 Anne remembered the place from times 
 past, as she followed the lady up the broad 
 stairs to the state rooms, where the child was 
 daily carried for inspection by the nation to 
 whom, it was assumed, he was so welcome, 
 but who, on the contrary, regarded him with 
 the utmost dislike and suspicion.
 
 2 So A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 Whitehall was, in those days, free to all 
 the world, and though sentries in the Life- 
 guards' uniform with huge grenadier caps 
 were posted here and there, every one walked 
 up and down. Members of Parliament and 
 fine gentlemen In embroidered coats and flow- 
 ing wigs came to exchange news ; country 
 cousins came to stare and wonder, some to 
 admire, some to whisper their disbelief in the 
 Prince's identity ; clergy in gown, cassock, 
 and bands came to win what they could in a 
 losing cause ; and one or two other clergy, 
 who were looked at askance, whose dress had 
 a foreign air, and whose tonsure could be 
 detected as they threaded their way with 
 quick, gliding steps to the King's closet. 
 
 Lady Oglethorpe, as one to the manner 
 born, made her way through the midst of this 
 throng in the magnificent gallery, and Anne 
 followed her closely, conscious of words of 
 admiration and inquiries who she was. Into 
 the Prince's presence chamber, in fact his 
 day -nursery, they came, and a sweet and 
 gentle-looking lady met them, and embraced 
 Lady Oglethorpe, who made known Mistress 
 Woodford to Lady Strickland, of Sizergh, the
 
 XVI A ROYAL NURSERY 281 
 
 second governess, as the fourth rocker who 
 had been appointed. 
 
 'You are welcome, Miss Woodford,' said 
 the lady, looking at Anne's high, handsome 
 head and well-bred action in courtesying, with 
 a shade of surprise, ' You are young, but I 
 trust you are discreet. There is much need 
 thereof 
 
 Following to a kind of alcove, raised by a 
 step or two, Anne found herself before a half- 
 circle of ladies and Q^entlemen round a chair 
 of state, in front of which stood a nurse, with 
 an infant in her arms, holding him to be 
 caressed and inspected by the lady on the 
 throne. Her beautiful soft dark eyes and 
 hair, and an ivory complexion, with her 
 dignified and graceful bearing, her long, 
 slender throat and exquisite figure, were not 
 so much concealed as enhanced by the simple 
 mob cap and ' night-gown,' as it was then the 
 fashion to call a morning wrapper, which she 
 wore, and Anne's first impression was that 
 no wonder Peregrine raved about her. Poor 
 Peregrine ! that very thought came like a 
 stab, as, after courtesying low, she stood at the 
 end of the long room — silent, and observing.
 
 283 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 A few gentlemen waited by the opposite 
 door, but not coming far into the apartment, 
 and Lady Oglethorpe was announced by one 
 of them. The space was so great that Anne 
 could not hear the words, and she only saw 
 the gracious smile and greeting as Lady 
 Oglethorpe knelt and kissed the Queen's 
 hand. After a lonor conversation between 
 the mothers, during which Lady Oglethorpe 
 was accommodated with a cushion, Anne was 
 beckoned forward, and was named to the 
 Queen, who honoured her with an inclination 
 of the head and a few low murmured words. 
 
 Then there was an announcement of ' His 
 Majesty,' and Anne, following the general 
 example of standing back with low obeisances, 
 beheld the tall active figure and dark heavy 
 countenance of her Royal godfather, under 
 his great black, heavily-curled wig. He re- 
 turned Lady Oglethorpe's greeting, and his 
 face lighted up with a pleasant smile that 
 greatly changed the expression as he took 
 his child into his arms for a few moments ; 
 but the litde one began to cry, whereupon he 
 was carried oft', and the King began to con- 
 sult Lady Oglethorpe upon the water-gruel
 
 XVI A ROYAL NURSERY 283 
 
 on which the poor little Prince was being 
 reared, and of which she emphatically dis- 
 approved. 
 
 Before he left the room, however, Lady 
 Oglethorpe took care to present to him his 
 god-daughter, Mistress Anne Jacobina Wood- 
 ford, and very low was the girl's obeisance 
 before him, but with far more fright and shy- 
 ness than before the sweet-faced Queen. 
 
 'Oh ay!' he said, 'I remember honest 
 Will Woodford. He did oood service at 
 Southwold. I wish he had left a son like 
 him. Have you a brother, young mistress T 
 
 ' No, please your Majesty, I am an only 
 child.' 
 
 ' More's the pity,' he said kindly, and with 
 a smile brightening his heavy features. ' 'Tis 
 too good a breed to die out. You are 
 Catholic ?' 
 
 ' I am bred in the English Church, so 
 please your Majesty.' 
 
 His Majesty was evidently less pleased 
 than before, but he only said, ' Ha ! and my 
 godchild ! We must amend that,' and waved 
 her aside. 
 
 The royal interview over, the newcomer
 
 284 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 was presented to the State Governess, the 
 Countess of Powys, a fair and gracious matron, 
 who was, however, almost as far removed 
 from her as the Oueen. Then she was called 
 on to take a solemn oath before the Master 
 of the Household of dutiful loyalty to the 
 Prince. 
 
 Mrs. Labadie was head nurse as well as 
 being wife to the King's French valet. She 
 was a kindly, portly Englishwoman, who 
 seemed wrapped up in her charge, and she 
 greeted her new subordinate in a friendly 
 way, which, however, seemed strange in one 
 who at horne would have been of an inferior 
 degree, expressed hopes of her steadiness and 
 discretion, and called to Miss Dunord to show 
 Miss Woodford her chamber. The abbrevia- 
 tion Miss sounded familiar and unsuitable, 
 but it had just come into use for younger 
 spinsters, though officially they were still 
 termed Mistress. 
 
 Mistress or Miss Dunord was sallow and 
 gray-eyed, somewhat older than Anne, and 
 looking thoroughly French, though her Eng- 
 lish was perfect. She was entirely dressed 
 in blue and white, and had a rosary and cross
 
 XVI A ROYAL NURSERY 285 
 
 at her girdle. ' This way,' she said, tripping 
 up a steep wooden stair. ' We sleep above. 
 'Tis a huge, awkward place. Her Majesty 
 calls it the bip^eest and most uncomfortable 
 palace she ever was in.' 
 
 Opening a heavy door, she showed a room 
 of considerable size, hung with faded frayed 
 tapestry, and containing two huge bedsteads, 
 with four heavy posts, and canopies of wood, 
 as near boxes as could well be. Privacy was 
 a luxury not ordinarily coveted, and the 
 arrangement did not surprise Anne, though 
 she could have wished that on that summer 
 day curtains and tapestry had been less fusty. 
 Two young women were busy over a dress 
 spread on one of the beds, and with French 
 ease and grace the guide said, ' Here is our 
 new colleague. Miss Jacobina Woodford. 
 Let me present Miss Hester Bridgeman and 
 Miss Jane Humphreys.' 
 
 ' Miss Woodford is welcome,' said Miss 
 Bridgeman, a keen, brown, lively, somewhat 
 anxious-looking person, courtesying and hold- 
 ing out her hand, and her example was fol- 
 lowed by Jane Humphreys, a stout, rosy, 
 commonplace girl.
 
 286 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 ' Oh ! I am glad,' this last cried. * Now I 
 shall have a bedfellow.' 
 
 This Anne was the less sorry for, as she 
 saw that the bed of the other two was 
 furnished with a holy water stoup and a little 
 shrine with a waxen Madonna. There was 
 only one looking-glass among the four, and 
 not much apparatus either for washing or the 
 toilet, but Miss Bridgeman believed that they 
 would soon go to Richmond, where things 
 would be more comfortable. Then she turned 
 to consult Miss Dunord on her endeavour to 
 improve the trimmings of a dress of Miss 
 Humphreys. 
 
 ' Yes, I know you are always in Our 
 Lady's colours, Pauline, but you have a pretty 
 taste, and can convince Jane that rose colour 
 and scarlet cannot go together.' 
 
 ' My father chose the ribbons,' said Jane, 
 as if that were unanswerable. 
 
 ' City taste,' said Miss Bridgeman. 
 
 ' They are pretty, very pretty with any- 
 thing else,' observed Pauline, with more tact. 
 ' See, now, with your white embroidered 
 petticoat and the gray train they are ravishing 
 — and the scarlet coat will enliven the black.'
 
 XVI A ROYAL NURSERY 287 
 
 There was further a little murmur about 
 what a Mr. Hopkins admired, but it was lost 
 in the arrival of Miss Woodford's mails. 
 
 They clustered round, as eager as a set of 
 schoolgirls, over Anne's dresses. Happily 
 even the extreme of fashion had not then 
 become uns^raceful. 
 
 ' Her Majesty will not have the loose 
 drapery that folks used to wear,' said Hester 
 Bridgeman. 
 
 'No,' said Pauline ; ' it was all very well 
 for those who could dispose it with an artless 
 negligence, but for some I could name, it was 
 as though they had tumbled it on with a hay- 
 fork, and had their hair tousled by being 
 tickled in the hay.' 
 
 ' Now we have the tight bodice with plenty 
 of muslin and lace, the gown open below to 
 show the petticoat,' said Hester; 'and to my 
 mind it is more decorous.' 
 
 ' Decorum was not the vogue then,' laughed 
 Pauline, ' perhaps it will be now. Oh, 
 what lovely lace ! real Flanders, on my 
 word ! Where did you get it. Miss Wood- 
 ford ? ' 
 
 ' It was my mother's.'
 
 288 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 ' And this ? Why, 'tis old French point, 
 you should hang it to your sleeves.' 
 
 ' My Lady Archfield gave it to me in case 
 I should need it.' 
 
 ' Ah ! I see you have good friends and 
 are a person of some condition,' put in Hester 
 Bridgeman. ' I shall be happy to consort 
 with you. Let us ' 
 
 Anne courtesied, and at the moment a 
 bell was heard, Pauline at once crossed herself 
 and fell on her knees before the small shrine 
 with a figure of the Blessed Virgin, and 
 Hester, breaking off her words, followed her 
 example ; but Jane Humphreys stood twist- 
 ing the corner of her apron. 
 
 In a very short time, almost before Anne 
 had recovered from her bewilderment, the 
 other two were up and chattering again, 
 
 ' You are not a Catholic } ' demanded Miss 
 Bridgeman. 
 
 ' I was bred in the Church,' said Anne. 
 
 ' And you the King's godchild ! ' exclaimed 
 Pauline. ' But we shall soon amend that 
 and make a convert of you like Miss Bridge- 
 man there.' 
 
 Anne shook her head, but was glad to
 
 XVI A ROYAL NURSERY 289 
 
 ask, ' And what means the bell that is ringing 
 now ?' 
 
 'That is the supper bell. It rings just 
 after the Angelus,' said Hester. ' No, it is 
 not ours. The great folks, Lady Powys, 
 Lady Strickland, and the rest sup first. We 
 have the dishes after them, with Nurses 
 Labadie and Royer and the rest — no bad 
 ones either. They are allowed five dishes 
 and two bottles of wine apiece, and they 
 always leave plenty for us, and it is served 
 hot too.' 
 
 The preparations for going down to the 
 second table now absorbed the party. 
 
 As Hester said, the fare at this second 
 table was not to be despised. It was a 
 formal meal shared with the two nurses and 
 the two pages of the backstairs. Not the 
 lads usually associated with the term, but 
 men of mature age, and of gentle, though 
 not noble, birth and breeding ; and there 
 were likewise the attendants of the Kine and 
 Queen of the same grade, such as Mr. 
 Labadie, the King's valet, some English, but 
 besides these, Dusian, the Oueen's French 
 page, and Signor and Signora Turini. who 
 
 VOL. I u
 
 290 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 had come with her from Modena, Pere Giver- 
 lai, her confessor, and another priest. Pere 
 Giverlai said grace, and the conversation 
 went on briskly between the elders, the 
 younger ones being supposed to hold their 
 peace. 
 
 Their dishes went in reversion to the in- 
 ferior class of servants, laundress, sempstress, 
 chambermaids, and the like, who had much 
 more liberty than their betters, and not such 
 a lack of occupation, as Anne soon perceived 
 that she should suffer from. 
 
 There was, however, a great muster of all 
 the Prince's establishment, who stood round, 
 as many as could, with little garments in 
 their hands, while he was solemnly undressed 
 and laid in his richly inlaid and carved cradle 
 — over which Pere Giverlai pronounced a 
 Latin benediction. 
 
 The nursery establishment was then re- 
 leased, except one of the nurses, who was to 
 sleep or wake on a couch by his side, and 
 one of the rockers. These damsels had, two 
 at a time, to divide the night between them, 
 one being always at hand to keep the food 
 warm, touch the rocker at need with her foot.
 
 XVI A ROYAL NURSERY 291 
 
 or call up the nurse on duty if the child 
 awoke, but not presume herself to handle his 
 little Royal Highness. 
 
 It was the night when Mistress Dunord and 
 Bridgeman were due, and Anne followed 
 Jane Humphreys to her room, asking a little 
 about the duties of the morrow. 
 
 ' We must be dressed before seven,' said 
 the girl. * One of us will be left on duty 
 while the others go to Mass. I am glad you 
 are a Protestant, Miss Woodford, for the 
 Catholics put everything on me that they can.' 
 
 ' We must do our best to help and 
 strengthen each other,' said Anne. 
 
 'It is very hard,' said Jane; 'and the 
 priests are always at me ! I would change 
 as Hester Bridgeman has done, but that I 
 know it would break my grand-dame's heart. 
 My father might not care so much, if I got 
 advancement, but I believe it would kill my 
 grandmother.' 
 
 * Advancement ! oh, but faith comes first,' 
 exclaimed Anne, recalling the warning. 
 
 ' Hester says one religion is as good as 
 another to get to Heaven by,' murmured Jane. 
 
 ' Not if we deny our own for the world's
 
 292 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 sake,' said Anne. ' Is the chapel here a 
 Popish one } ' 
 
 ' No ; the Queen has an Oratory, but the 
 Popish chapel is at St. James's — across the 
 Park. The Protestant one is here at White- 
 hall, and there are daily prayers at nine 
 o'clock, and on Sunday music with three 
 fiddlers, and my grandmother says it might 
 almost as well be Popish at once.' 
 
 ' Did your grandmother bring you up ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, My mother died when I was seven 
 years' old, and my grandmother bred us all 
 up. You should hear her talk of the good 
 old times before the Kings came back and 
 there were no Bishops and no book prayers 
 — but my father says we must swim with the 
 stream, or he would not have got any custom 
 at his coffee-house.' 
 
 ' Is that his calling } ' 
 
 'Ay ! No one has a better set of guests 
 than in the Golden Lamb. The place is full. 
 The great Dr. Hammond sees his patients 
 there, and it is all one buzz of the wits. It 
 was because of that that my Lord Sunderland 
 made interest, and got me here. How did 
 you come } '
 
 XVI A ROYAL NURSERY 293 
 
 Anne briefly explained, and Jane broke 
 out — 
 
 ' Then you will be my friend, and we will 
 tell each other all our secrets. You are a 
 Protestant too. You will be mine, and not 
 Bridofeman's or Dunord's — I hate them.' 
 
 In point of fact Anne did not feel much 
 attracted by the proffer of friendship, and 
 she certainly did not intend to tell Jane 
 Humphreys all her secrets, nor to vow enmity 
 to the other colleagues, but she gravely 
 answered that she trusted they would be 
 friends and help to maintain one another's 
 faith. She was relieved that Miss Bridgeman 
 here came in to take her first turn of rest 
 till she was to be called up at one o'clock. 
 
 As Jane Humphreys had predicted, Mrs. 
 Royer and Anne alone were left in charge of 
 the nursling while every one went to morning 
 Mass. Then followed breakfast and the 
 levee of his Royal Higness, lasting as on the 
 previous day till dinner-time ; and the after- 
 noon was as before, except that the day was 
 fine enouofh for the child to be carried out 
 with all his attendants behind him to take 
 the air in the private gardens.
 
 294 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap, xvi 
 
 If this was to be the whole course of life 
 at the palace, Anne began to feel that she 
 had made a great mistake. She was by no 
 means attracted by her companions, though 
 Miss Bridgeman decided that she must know 
 persons of condition, and made overtures of 
 friendship, to be sealed by calling one another 
 Oriana and Portia. She did not approve of 
 such common names as Princess Anne and 
 Lady Churchill used — Mrs. Morley and Mrs. 
 Freeman ! They must have something better 
 than what was used by the Cockpit folks, 
 and she was sure that her dear Portia would 
 soon be of the only true faith.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 MACHINATIONS 
 
 ' Baby born to woe.' 
 
 F. T. Palgrave. 
 
 When Anne Woodford began to wake 
 from the constant thought of the grief and 
 horror she had left at Portchester, and to feel 
 more alive to her surroundings and less as if 
 they were a kind of dream, in which she only 
 mechanically took her part, one thing im- 
 pressed itself on her gradually, and that was 
 disappointment. If the previous shock had 
 not blunted all her hopes and aspirations, 
 perhaps she would have felt it sooner and 
 more keenly ; but she could not help realis- 
 ing that she had put herself into an inferior 
 position whence there did not seem to be the 
 promotion she had once anticipated. Her
 
 296 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 companion rockers were of an inferior grade 
 to herself. Jane Humphreys was a harmless 
 but silly girl, not much wiser, though less 
 spoilt, than poor little Madam, and full of 
 Cockney vulgarities. Education was un- 
 fashionable just then, and though Hester 
 Bridgeman was better born and bred, being 
 the daughter of an attorney in the city, she 
 was not much better instructed, and had no 
 pursuits except that of her own advantage. 
 Pauline Dunord was by far the best of the 
 three, but she seemed to live a life apart, 
 taking very little interest in her companions 
 or anything around her except her devotions 
 and the bringing them over to her Church. 
 The nursery was quite a separate establish- 
 ment ; there was no mingling with the guests 
 of royalty, who were only seen in excited 
 peeps from the window, or when solemnly 
 introduced to the presence chamber to pay 
 their respects to the Prince. As to books, 
 the only secular one that Anne saw while at 
 Whitehall was an odd volume of Parthenissa. 
 The late King's summary of the Roman con- 
 troversy was to be had in plenty, and nothing 
 was more evident than that the only road to
 
 XVII MACHINATIONS 297 
 
 favour or promotion was in being thereby 
 convinced. 
 
 ' Don't throw it down as if it were a hot 
 chestnut,' said her Oriana. ' That's what 
 they all do at first, but they come to it at last.' 
 
 Anne made no answer, but a pang smote 
 her as she thought of her uncle's warnings. 
 Yet surely she might hope for other modes 
 of prospering, she who was certainly by far 
 the best looking and best educated of all the 
 four, not that this served her much in her 
 present company, and those of higher rank 
 did not notice her at all. Princess Anne 
 would surely recollect her, and then she 
 micrht be safe in a Protestant household, 
 where her uncle would be happy about her. 
 
 The Princess had been at Bath when first 
 she arrived, but at the end of a week pre- 
 parations were made at the Cockpit, a sort 
 of appendage to Whitehall, where the Prince 
 and Princess of Denmark lived, and in due 
 time there was a visit to the nursery. Stand- 
 ing in full ceremony behind Lady Powys, 
 Anne saw the plump face and form she recol- 
 lected in the florid bloom of a young matron, 
 not without a certain royal dignity in the pose
 
 298 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 of the head, though in grace and beauty far 
 surpassed by the tall, elegant figure and face 
 of Lady Churchill, whose bright blue eyes 
 seemed to be taking in everything every- 
 where. Anne's heart began to beat high at 
 the sieht of a once familiar face, and with 
 hopes of a really kind word from one who as 
 an elder girl had made much of the pretty 
 little plaything. The Princess Anne's coun- 
 tenance was, however, less good-natured than 
 usual ; her mouth was made up to a sullen 
 expression, and when her brother was shown 
 to her she did not hold out her arms to him 
 nor vouchsafe a kiss. 
 
 The Queen looked at her wistfully, ask- 
 ing— 
 
 ' Is he not like the King?' 
 
 ' Humph !' returned Princess Anne, ' I 
 see no likeness to any living soul of our 
 family.' 
 
 ' Nay, but see his little nails,' said the 
 Queen, spreading the tiny hand over her 
 finger. ' See how like your father's they are 
 framed ! My treasure, you can clasp me !' 
 
 ' My brother, Edgar ! He was the beauty,' 
 said the Princess. ' He was exactly like my
 
 XVII MACHINATIONS 299 
 
 father ; but there's no judging of anything so 
 puny as this !' 
 
 ' He was very suffering last week, the poor 
 Httle angel,' said the mother sadly ; ' but they 
 say this water-gruel is very nourishing, and 
 not so heavy as milk.' 
 
 * It does not look as if it agreed with him,' 
 said the Princess. ' Poor little mammet ! 
 Did I hear that you had the little Woodford 
 here ? Is that you, girl ?' 
 
 Anne courtesied herself forward. 
 
 ' Ay, I remember you. I never forget a 
 face, and you have grown up fair enough. 
 Where's your mother ?' 
 
 * I lost her last February, so please your 
 Royal Highness.' 
 
 * Oh ! She was a good woman. Why 
 did she not send you to me ? Well, well ! 
 Come to my toilet to-morrow.' 
 
 So Princess Anne swept away in her rich 
 blue brocade. Her behest was obeyed, of 
 course, though it was evidently displeasing to 
 the nursery authorities, and Lady Strickland 
 gave a warning to be discreet and to avoid 
 gossip with the Cockpit folks. 
 
 Anne could not but be excited. Perhaps
 
 300 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 the Princess would ask for her, and take her 
 into the number of her own attendants, where 
 she would no longer be in a Romish house- 
 hold, and would certainly be in a higher posi- 
 tion. Why, she remembered that very Lady 
 Churchill as Sarah Jennings in no better a 
 position than she could justly aspire to. Her 
 coming to Court would thus be truly justified. 
 The Princess sat in a silken wrapper, 
 called a night-gown, in her chamber, which 
 had a richly curtained bed in the alcove, and 
 a toilet-table with a splendid Venetian mirror, 
 and a good deal of silver sparkling on it, 
 while a strange mixture of perfumes came 
 from the various boxes and bottles. Ladies 
 and tirewomen stood in attendance ; a little 
 black boy in a turban and gold-embroidered 
 dress held a salver with her chocolate cup ; a 
 cockatoo soliloquised in low whispers in the 
 window ; a monkey was chained to a pole at 
 a safe distance from him ; a French friseur 
 was manipulating the Princess's profuse 
 brown hair with his tongs ; and a needy- 
 looking, pale thin man, in a semi-x:lerical suit, 
 was half-reading, half-declaiming a poem, in 
 which ' Fair Anna ' seemed mixed up with
 
 XVII MACHINATIONS 301 
 
 Juno, Ceres, and other classical folk, but to 
 which she was evidently paying very little 
 attention. 
 
 ' Ah ! there you are, little one. Thank you, 
 Master — what's name ; that is enough. 'Tis 
 a fine poem, but I never can remember which 
 is which of all your gods and goddesses. Oh 
 yes, I accept the dedication. Give him a 
 couple of guineas, Ellis ; it will serve him for 
 board and lodging for a fortnight, poor 
 wretch ! ' Then, after giving a smooth, well- 
 shaped white hand to be kissed, and inviting 
 her visitor to a cushion at her feet, she began 
 a long series of questions, kindly ones at first, 
 though of the minute gossiping kind, and ex- 
 tending to the Archfields, for poor young 
 Madam had been of the rank about which 
 royalty knew everything in those days. The 
 inquiries were extremely minute, and the 
 comments what from any one else, Anne 
 would have thought vulgar, especially in the 
 presence of the hairdresser, but her namesake 
 observed her blush and hesitation, and said, 
 ' Oh, never mind a creature like that. He is 
 French, besides, and does not understand a 
 word we say.'
 
 302 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 Anne, looking over the Princess's head, 
 feared that she saw a twinkle in the man's 
 eye, and could only look clown and try to 
 ignore him through the catechism that ensued, 
 on when she came to Whitehall, on the Prince 
 of Wales's health, the management of him, 
 and all the circumstances connected with his 
 birth. 
 
 Very glad was Anne that she knew 
 nothing, and had not picked up any informa- 
 tion as to what had happened before she 
 came to the palace. As to the present. Lady 
 Strickland's warning and her own sense of 
 honour kept her reticent to a degree that 
 evidently vexed the Princess, for she dropped 
 her caressing manner, and sent her away 
 with a not very kind, ' You may go now ; you 
 will be turning Papist next, and what would 
 your poor mother say ? ' 
 
 And as Anne departed in backward fashion 
 she heard Lady Churchill say, ' You will make 
 nothing of her. She is sharper than she 
 affects, and a proud minx ! I see it in her 
 carriage.' 
 
 The visit had only dashed a few hopes and 
 done her harm with her immediate surround-
 
 XVII MACHINATIONS 303 
 
 ings, who always disliked and distrusted 
 intercourse with the other establishment. 
 
 However, in another day the nursery was 
 moved to Richmond. This was a welcome 
 move to Anne, who had spent her early child- 
 hood near enough to be sometimes taken 
 thither, and to know the Park well, so that 
 there was a home feeling in the sight of the 
 outline of the trees and the scenery of the 
 neighbourhood. The Queen intended going 
 to Bath, so that the establishment was only 
 that of the Prince, and the life was much 
 quieter on the whole ; but there was no grati- 
 fying any yearning for country walks, for it 
 was not safe nor perhaps decorous for one 
 young woman to be out alone in a park open 
 to the public and haunted by soldiers from 
 Hounslow — nor could either of her fellow- 
 rockers understand her preference for a 
 secluded path through the woods. Miss 
 Dunord never went out at all, except on duty, 
 when the Prince was carried along the walks 
 in the garden, and the other two infinitely 
 preferred the open spaces, where tables were 
 set under the horse-chestnut trees for parties 
 who boated down from London to eat curds
 
 304 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 and whey, sometimes bringing a fiddler so as 
 to dance under the trees. 
 
 Jane Humphreys especially was always 
 looking out for acquaintances, and once, with 
 a cry of joy, a stout, homely-looking young 
 woman started up, exclaiming, * Sister Jane ! ' 
 and flew into her arms. Upon which Miss 
 Woodford was introduced to ' My sister Coles' 
 and her husband, and had to sit down under 
 a tree and share the festivities, while there 
 was an overflow of inquiries and intelligence, 
 domestic and otherwise. Certainly these 
 were persons whom she would not have 
 treated as equals at home. 
 
 Besides, it was all very well to hear of the 
 good old grandmother's rheumatics, and of 
 little Tommy's teething, and even to see 
 Jane hang her head and be teased about 
 remembering Mr. Hopkins ; nor was it 
 wonderful to hear lamentations over the 
 extreme dulness of the life where one never 
 saw a creature to speak to who was not as 
 old as the hills ; but when it came to inquiries 
 as minute as the Princess's about the Prince 
 of Wales, Anne thought the full details 
 lavishly poured out scarcely consistent with
 
 XVII MACHINATIONS 305 
 
 loyalty to their oaths of service and Lady 
 Strickland's warning, and she told Jane so. 
 
 She was answered, ' Oh la ! what harm 
 can it do ? You are such a proud peat ! 
 Grand-dame and sister like to know all 
 about His Royal Highness.' 
 
 This was true ; but Anne was far more 
 uncomfortable two or three days later. The 
 Prince was ailing, so much so that Lady 
 Powys had sent an express for the Queen, 
 who had not yet started for Bath, when 
 Anne and Jane, being relieved from duty by 
 the other pair, went out for a stroll. 
 
 'Oh la!' presently exclaimed Jane, 'if 
 that is not Colonel Sands, the Princess's 
 equerry. I do declare he is coming to speak 
 to us, though he is one of the Cockpit folks.' 
 
 He was a very fine gentleman indeed, all 
 scarlet and gold, and no wonder Jane was 
 flattered and startled, so that she jerked her 
 fan violently up and down as he accosted her 
 with a wave of his cocked hat, saying that he 
 was rejoiced to meet these two fair ladies, 
 having been sent by the Princess of Den- 
 mark to inquire for the health of the Prince. 
 She was very anxious to know more than 
 
 VOL. I X
 
 3o6 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 could be learnt by formal inquiry, he said, 
 and he was happy to have met the young 
 gentlewomen who could gratify him. 
 
 The term ' gentlewoman ' highly flattered 
 Miss Humphreys, who blushed and bridled, 
 and exclaimed, ' Oh la, sir ! ' but Anne 
 thought it needful to say gravely — 
 
 'We are in trust, sir, and have no right 
 to speak of what passes within the royal 
 household.' 
 
 ' Madam, I admire your discretion, but 
 to the — (a-hem) — sister of the — (a-hem) — 
 Prince of Wales it is surely uncalled for.' 
 
 ' Miss Woodford is so precise,' said Jane 
 Humphreys, with a giggle; 'I do not know 
 what harm can come of saying that His 
 Royal Highness peaks and pines just as he 
 did before.' 
 
 ' He is none the better for country air 
 then ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no ! except that he cries louder. 
 Such a time as we had last night ! Mrs. 
 Royer never slept a wink all the time I was 
 there, but walked about with him all night. 
 You had the best of it, Miss Woodford.' 
 ' He slept while I was there,' said Anne
 
 XVII MACHINATIONS 307 
 
 briefly, not thinking it needful to state that 
 the tired nurse had handed the child over to 
 her, and that he had fallen asleep in her 
 arms. She tried to put an end to the con- 
 versation by going indoors, but she was 
 vexed to find that, instead of following her 
 closely. Miss Humphreys was still lingering 
 with the equerry. 
 
 Anne found the household in commotion. 
 Pauline met her, weeping bitterly, and saying 
 the Prince had had a fit, and all hope was 
 over, and in the rockers' room she found 
 Hester Bridgeman exclaiming that her occu- 
 pation was gone. Water-gruel, she had no 
 doubt, had been the death of the Prince. 
 The Oueen was come, and wellniofh dis- 
 tracted. She had sent out in quest of a wet- 
 nurse, but it was too late ; he was going the 
 way of all Her Majesty's children. 
 
 Goinor down af^ain tocrether the two jrirls 
 presently had to stand aside as the poor 
 Queen, seeing and hearing nothing, came 
 towards her own room with her handkerchief 
 over her face. They pressed each other's 
 hands awe-stricken, and went on to the 
 nursery. There Mrs. Labadie was kneeling
 
 3o8 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 over the cradle, her hood hanging over her 
 face, crying bitterly over the poor little child, 
 who had a blue look about his face, and 
 seemed at the last gasp, his features con- 
 torted by a convulsion. 
 
 At that moment Jane Humphreys was 
 seen gently opening the door and letting in 
 Colonel Sands, who moved as quietly as pos- 
 sible, to give a furtive look at the dying 
 child. His researches were cut short, how- 
 ever. Lady Strickland, usually the gentlest 
 of women, darted out and demanded what he 
 was doing in her nursery. 
 
 He attempted to stammer some excuse 
 about Princess Anne, but Lady Strickland 
 only answered by standing pointing to the 
 door, and he was forced to retreat in a very 
 undignified fashion. 
 
 ' Who brought him ? ' she demanded, 
 when the door was shut. ' Those Cockpit folk 
 are not to come prying here, hap what may ! ' 
 
 Miss Humphreys had sped away for fear 
 of questions being asked, and attention was 
 diverted by Mrs. Royer arriving with a 
 stout, healthy -looking young woman in a 
 thick home -spun cloth petticoat, no stock-
 
 XVII MACHINATIONS 309 
 
 ings, and old shoes, but with a clean white 
 cap on her head — a tilemaker's wife who had 
 been captured in the village. 
 
 No sooner was the suffering, half-starved 
 child delivered over to her than he became 
 serene and contented. The water -gruel 
 regime was over, and he began to thrive 
 from that time. Even when later in the 
 afternoon the King himself brought in 
 Colonel Sands, whom in the joy of his heart 
 he had asked to dine with him, the babe lay 
 tranquilly on the cradle, waving his little 
 hands and looking happy. 
 
 The intrusion seemed to have been for- 
 gotten, but that afternoon Anne, who had 
 been sent on a message to one of the Queen's 
 ladies, more than suspected that she saw Jane 
 in a deep recess of a window in confabula- 
 tion with the Colonel. And when they were 
 alone at bed-time the z\r\ said — 
 
 ' Is it not droll ? The Colonel cannot 
 believe that 'tis the same child. He has 
 been joking and teasing me to declare that 
 we have a dead Prince hidden somewhere, 
 and that the King showed him the brick-bat 
 woman's child.'
 
 3IO A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 ' How can you prattle in that mischievous 
 way — after what Lady Strickland said, too ? 
 You do not know what harm you may do ! ' 
 
 ' Oh lack, it was all a jest ! ' 
 
 ' I am not so sure that it was.' 
 
 ' But you will not tell of me, dear friend, 
 you will not. I never saw Lady Strickland 
 like that ; I did not know she could be in 
 such a raofe.' 
 
 ' No wonder, when a fellow like that 
 came peeping and prying like a raven to 
 see whether the poor babe was still breath- 
 ing,' cried Anne indignantly. ' How could 
 you bring him in ? ' 
 
 ' Fellow indeed ! Why he is a colonel in 
 the Life-guards, and the Princess's equerry ; 
 and who has a rioht to know about the child 
 if not his own sister — ^or half-sister .'* ' 
 
 * She is not a very loving sister,' replied 
 Anne. 'You know well, Jane, how many 
 would not be sorry to make out that it is as 
 that man would fain have you say.' 
 
 ' Well, I told him it was no such thing, 
 and laughed the very notion to scorn.' 
 
 ' It were better not to talk with him at all.' 
 
 ' But you will not speak of it. If I were
 
 XVII MACHINATIONS 311 
 
 turned away my father would beat me. Nay, 
 I know not what he might not do to me. 
 You will not tell, dear darling Portia, and I 
 will love you for ever.' 
 
 ' I have no call to tell,' said Anne coldly, 
 but she was disgusted and weary, and more- 
 over not at all sure that she, as the other 
 Protestant rocker, and having been in the 
 Park on that same day, was not credited 
 with some of the mischievous gossip that had 
 passed. 
 
 ' There, Portia, that is what you get by 
 walking with that stupid Humphreys,' said 
 Oriana. ' She knows no better than to blab 
 to any one who will be at the trouble to seem 
 sweet upon her, though she may get nothing 
 by it.' 
 
 ' Would it be better if she did } ' asked 
 Anne. 
 
 ' Oh, well, we must all look out for our- 
 selves, and I am sure there is no knowing 
 what may come next. But I hear we are to 
 move to Windsor as soon as the child is 
 strone enouQfh, so as to be farther out of 
 reach of the Cockpit tongues.' 
 
 This proved to be true, but the Prince
 
 312 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 and his suite were not lodged in the Castle 
 itself, a house in the cloisters being thought 
 more suitable, and here the Oueen visited 
 her child daily, for since that last alarm she 
 could not bear to be long absent from him. 
 Such emissaries as Colonel Sands did not 
 again appear, but after that precedent Lady 
 Strickland had become much more unwilling 
 to allow any of those under her authority to 
 go out into any public place, and the rockers 
 seldom got any exercise except as sw^elling 
 the Prince's train when he was carried out to 
 take the air. 
 
 Anne looked with longing eyes at the 
 Park, but a ramble there was a forbidden 
 pleasure. She could not always even obtain 
 leave to attend St. George's Chapel ; the wish 
 was treated as a sort of weakness, or folly, 
 and she was always the person selected to 
 stay at home when any religious ceremony 
 called away the rest of the establishment. 
 
 As the King's god - daughter it was 
 impressed on her that she ought to conform 
 to his Church, and one of the many priests 
 about the Court was appointed to instruct 
 her. In the dearth of all intellectual inter-
 
 XVII MA CHINA TIONS 3 1 3 
 
 course, and the absolute deficiency of books, 
 she could not but become deeply interested 
 in the arguments. Her uncle had forearmed 
 her with instruction, and she wrote to him 
 on any difficulty which arose, and this became 
 the chief occupation of her mind, distracting 
 her thoughts from the one great cloud that 
 hung over her memory. Indeed one of the 
 foremost bulwarks her feelinors erected to 
 fortify her conscience against the temptations 
 around, was the knowledo-e that she would 
 have, though of course under seal of confes- 
 sion, to relate that terrible story to a priest. 
 
 Hester Bridgeman could not imagine how 
 her Portia could endure to hear the old 
 English Prayer-book droned out. For her 
 part, she liked one thing or the other, either 
 a rousing Nonconformist sermon in a meet- 
 ing-house or a splendid Mass. 
 
 'But, after all,' as Anne overheard her 
 observing to Miss Dunord, 'it may be all the 
 better for us. What with her breeding and 
 her foreign tongues, she would be sure to 
 be set over our heads as under-governess, or 
 the like, if she were not such an obstinate 
 heretic, and keeping that stupid Humphreys
 
 314 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 SO. We could have converted her long ago, 
 if it were not for that Woodford and for her 
 City grand-dame! Portia is the King's god- 
 child, too, so it is just as well that she does 
 not see what is for her own advantage.' 
 
 ' I do not care for promotion. I only 
 want to save my own soul and hers,' said 
 Pauline. ' I wish she would come over to 
 the true Church, for I could love her.' 
 
 And certainly Pauline Dunord's gentle 
 devotional example, and her perfect rest and 
 peace in the practice of her religion, were 
 strone influences with Anne. She was wait- 
 ino- till circumstances should make it possible 
 to her to enter a convent, and in the mean- 
 time she lived a strictly devout life, abstracted 
 as far as duty and kindness permitted from 
 the little cabals and gossipry around. 
 
 Anne could not help feeling that the girl 
 was as nearly a saint as any one she had 
 ever seen — far beyond herself in goodness. 
 Moreover, the Queen inspired strong affec- 
 tion. Mary Beatrice was not only a very 
 beautiful person, full of the grace and dignity 
 of the House of Este, but she was deeply 
 religious, good and gentle, kindly and gracious
 
 XVII MACHINATIONS 315 
 
 to all who approached her, and devoted to 
 her husband and child. A word or look from 
 her was always a delight, and Anne, by her 
 knowledge of Italian, was able sometimes to 
 obtain a smilincr word or remark. 
 
 The little Prince, after those first miser- 
 able weeks of his life, had begun to thrive, 
 and by and by manifested a decided prefer- 
 ence not only for his beautiful mother, but 
 for the fresh face, bright smile, and shining 
 brown eyes of Miss Woodford. She could 
 almost always, with nods and becks, avert 
 a passion of roaring, which sometimes went 
 beyond the powers of even his foster-mother, 
 the tiler's wife. The Queen watched with 
 delight when he laughed and flourished his 
 arms in response, and the King was sum- 
 moned to see the performance, which he 
 requited by taking out a fat gold watch set 
 with pearls, and presenting it to Anne, as his 
 grave gloomy face lighted up with a smile. 
 
 'Are you yet one of us?' he asked, as 
 she received his gift on her knee. 
 
 'No, sir, I cannot ' 
 
 ' That must be amended. You have read 
 his late Majesty's paper T
 
 3i6 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap, xvii 
 
 ' I have, sir.' 
 
 ' And seen Father Giverlai ?' 
 
 'Yes, please your Majesty.' 
 
 * And still you are not convinced. That 
 must not be. I would gladly consider and 
 promote you, but I can only have true 
 Catholics around my son. I shall desire 
 Father Crump to see you.'
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 HALLOWMAS EVE 
 
 ' This more strange 
 Than such a murder is.' Macbeth. 
 
 ' Bambino mio, bambino mio' wailed Mary 
 Beatrice, as she pressed her child to her 
 bosom, and murmured to him in her native 
 tongue. ' And did they say he was not his 
 mother's son, his poor mother, whose dearest 
 treasure he is! Oime, crndeli, crtidelissimi ! 
 Even his sisters hate him and will not own 
 him, the little jewel of his mother's heart !' 
 
 Anne, waiting in the window, was grieved 
 to have overheard the words which the poor 
 Queen had poured out, evidently thinking no 
 one near could understand her. 
 
 That evening there were orders to prepare 
 for a journey to Whitehall the next morning. 
 
 'And,' said Hester Bridgeman, ' I can tell
 
 3i8 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 you why, in all confidence, but I have it from 
 a sure hand. The Prince of Orange is col- 
 lecting a fleet and army to come and inquire 
 into certain matters, especially into the birth 
 of a certain young gentleman we wot of.' 
 
 'How can he have the insolence?' cried 
 Anne. 
 
 ' 'Tis no great wonder, considering the 
 vipers in the Cockpit,' said Hester. 
 
 ' But what will they do to us ?' asked Jane 
 Humphreys in terror. 
 
 ' Nothing to you, my dear, nor to Portia ; 
 you are good Protestants,' said Hester with 
 a sneer. 
 
 ' Mrs. Royer told me it was for the christen- 
 ing,' said Jane, 'and then we shall all have 
 new suits. I am glad we are going back to 
 town. It cannot be so mortal dull as 'tis 
 here, with all the leaves falling — enough to 
 give one the vapours.' 
 
 There were auguries on either hand in the 
 palace that if the Prince came it would be 
 only another Monmouth affair, and this made 
 Anne shrink, for she had partaken of the 
 grief and indignation of Winchester at the 
 cruel execution of Lady Lisle, and had
 
 XVIII HALLOWMAS EVE 319 
 
 heard rumours enough of the progress of the 
 Assize to make her start in horror when 
 called to watch the red -faced Lord Chan- 
 cellor Jeffreys getting out of his coach. 
 
 It really seemed for the time as if the 
 royal household were confident in this im- 
 pression, though as soon as they w^ere again 
 settled in Whitehall there was a very close 
 examination of the witnesses of the Prince's 
 birth, and a report printed of their evidence, 
 enough it might be thought to satisfy any 
 one ; but Jane Humphreys, who went to 
 spend a day at the Golden Lamb, her father's 
 warehouse, reported that people only laughed 
 at it. 
 
 Anne's spirit burned at the injustice, and 
 warmed the more towards the Oueen and 
 little Prince, whose pretty responses to her 
 caresses could not but win her love. More- 
 over, Pauline's example continued to attract 
 her, and Father Crump was a better con- 
 troversialist, or perhaps a better judge of 
 character, than Pere Giverlai, and took her 
 on sides where she was more vulnerable, so 
 as to make her begin to feel unsettled, and 
 wonder whether she were not making a vain
 
 ;20 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 sacrifice, and holding out after all against the 
 better way. 
 
 The sense of the possible gain, and dis- 
 gust at the shallow conversions of some 
 around her, helped to keep her back. She 
 could not help observing that while Pauline 
 persuaded, Hester had ceased to persuade, 
 and seemed rather willing to hinder her. 
 Just before the State christening, or rather 
 admission into the Church, Lady Powys. in 
 the name of the King and Queen, offered 
 her the post of sub-governess, which really 
 would mean for the present chief playfellow 
 to the little Prince, and would place her on 
 an entirely different platform of society from 
 the comparatively menial one she occupied, 
 but of course on the condition of conformity 
 to Rome. 
 
 To be above the familiarity of Jane and 
 Hester was no small temptation, but still she 
 hesitated. 
 
 ' Madam, I thank you, I thank their 
 Majesties,' she said, ' but I cannot do it 
 thus.' 
 
 ' I see what you mean. Miss Woodford,' 
 said Lady Powys, who was a truly noble
 
 xv]ii HALLOWMAS EVE 321 
 
 woman. ' Your motiv^cs must be above sus- 
 picion even to yourself. I respect you, and 
 would not have made you the offer except 
 by express command, but I still trust that 
 when your disinterestedness is above sus- 
 picion you will still join us.' 
 
 It was sore mortification when Hester 
 Bridgeman was preferred to the office, for 
 which she was far less fitted, being no favourite 
 with the babe, and being essentially vulgar in 
 tastes and habits, and knowing no language 
 save her own, and that ungrammatically and 
 with an accent which no one could wish the 
 Prince to acquire. Yet there she was, pro- 
 moted to the his/her tirade of the establishment 
 and at the christening, standing in the front 
 ranks, while Miss Woodford was left far in 
 the rear among the servants. 
 
 A report of the Dutch fleet having been 
 destroyed by a storm had restored the spirits 
 oi the Court ; and in the nursery very little 
 was known of the feelinfjs of the kinofdom at 
 large. Dr. Woodford did not venture on 
 writing freely to his niece, lest he should com- 
 promise her, and she only vaguely detected 
 that he was uneasy. 
 
 VOL. I Y
 
 322 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 So came All Saints' Day Eve, when there 
 Avas to be a special service late in the evening 
 at the Romanised Chapel Royal at St. James's, 
 with a sermon by a distinguished Dominican, 
 to which all the elder and graver members 
 of the household were eaofer to q:o. And 
 there was another very different attraction 
 at the Cockpit, where good-natured Princess 
 Anne had given permission for a supper, to be 
 followed by burning of nuts and all the 
 divinations proper to Hallowmas Eve, to 
 which were invited all the subordinates of the 
 Whitehall establishment who could be spared. 
 
 Pauline Dunord was as eager for the 
 sermon as Jane Humphreys was for the 
 supper, and Hester Bridgeman was in an odd 
 mood of uncertainty, evidently longing after 
 the sports, but not daring to show that she 
 did so, and trying to show great desire to 
 hear the holy man preach, together with a 
 polite profession of self-denial in giving up 
 her place in case there should not be room for 
 all. However, as it appeared that even the 
 two chief nurses meant to combine sermon 
 and the latter end of the supper, she was at 
 ease. The foster-mother and one of the
 
 XVIII HALLOWMAS EVE 323 
 
 Protestant rockers were supposed to be 
 enough to watch over the Prince, but the 
 former, who had been much petted and spoilt 
 since she had been at the palace, and was a 
 young creature, untrained and wilful, cried so 
 much at the idea of missing the merrymaking, 
 that as it was reckoned important to keep her 
 in good humour and good spirits, Mrs. 
 Labadie decided on winking at her absence 
 from the nursery, since Miss Woodford was 
 quite competent to the charge for the short 
 time that both the church -goers and the 
 supper-goers would all be absent together. 
 
 ' But are you not afraid to stay alone ? ' 
 asked Mrs. Labadie, with a little compunction. 
 
 ' What is there to be afraid of ? ' asked 
 Anne. ' There are the sentinels at the foot 
 of the stairs, and what should reach us 
 here } ' 
 
 ' I would not be alone here,' said more 
 than one voice. ' Nor I ! ' — ' Nor I ! ' 
 
 'And on this night of all others!' said 
 Hester. 
 
 'But why?' 
 
 ' They say he walks ! ' whispered Jane in 
 a voice of awe.
 
 324 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 ' Who walks ? ' 
 
 ' The old Kinor ? ' asked Hester. 
 
 o 
 
 ' No ; the last King,' said Jane. 
 
 'No, no; it was Oliver Cromwell — old 
 Noll himself! ' put in another voice. 
 
 ' I tell you, no such thing,' said Jane. ' It 
 was the last King. I heard it from them 
 that saw it, at least the lady's cousin. 'Twas 
 in the long gallery, in a suit of plain black 
 velvet, with white muslin ruffles and cravat 
 quilled very neat. Why do you laugh, Miss 
 Woodford ? ' 
 
 This was too much for Anne, who managed 
 to say, ' Who was his laundress } ' 
 
 ' I tell you I heard it from them that told 
 no lies. The gentleman could swear to it. 
 He took a candle to him, and there was 
 nought but the wainscot behind. Think of 
 that.' 
 
 ' And that we should be living here ! ' said 
 another voice. 
 
 ' I never venture about the big draughty 
 place alone at night,' said the laundress. 
 
 ' No ! nor I would not for twenty princes,' 
 added the sempstress. 
 
 * Nay, I have heard steps,' said Mrs.
 
 xviii HALLOWMAS EVE 325 
 
 Royer, ' and wailing — wailing. No wonder 
 after all that has happened here. Oh yes, 
 steps as of the guard being turned out ! ' 
 
 ' That is like our Squire's manor-house, 
 where ' 
 
 Every one contributed a story, and only 
 the announcement of Her Majesty's approach 
 put an end to these reminiscences. 
 
 Anne held to her purpose. She had 
 looked forward to this time of solitude, for 
 she wanted leisure to consider the situation, 
 and fairly to revolve the pleas by which Father 
 Crump had shaken her, more in feeling than 
 in her reason, and made her question w^hether 
 her allegiance to her mother and uncle, and 
 her disQfust at interested conversions, were 
 not making her turn aside from what might 
 be the only true Church, the Mother of 
 Saints, and therewith perversely give up 
 earthly advancement. But oh ! how to write 
 to her uncle. 
 
 The very intention made her imagination 
 and memory too powerful for the considera- 
 tion of controversy. She went back first to 
 a merry Hallowmas Eve long ago, among 
 the Archfield party and other Winchester
 
 326 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 friends, and how the nuts had bounced in a 
 manner which made the young ones shout in 
 ecstasy of glee, but seemed to displease some 
 of the elders, and had afterwards been the 
 occasion of her being told that it was all folly, 
 and therewith informed of Charles Archfield's 
 contract to poor little Alice Fitzhubert. Then 
 came other scenes. All the various ghostly 
 tales she had heard, and as she sat with her 
 knitting in the shaded room with no sound 
 but the soft breathing of her little charge in 
 his cradle, no light save from a shaded lamp 
 and the fire on the hearth, strange thoughts 
 and dreams floated over her ; she started at 
 mysterious cracks in the wainscotting from 
 time to time, and beheld in the dark corners 
 of the great room forms that seemed grotesque 
 and phantom-like till she went up to them 
 and resolved them into familiar bits of furni- 
 ture or gowns and caps of Mrs. Labadie. 
 She repeated half aloud numerous Psalms and 
 bits of poetry, but in the midst would come 
 some disturbing noise, a step or a shout from 
 the street, though the chamber being at the 
 back of the house looking into the Park few 
 of such sounds penetrated thither. She began
 
 XVIII HALLOWMAS EVE 327 
 
 to think of Kinof Charles's last walk from St. 
 James's to Whitehall, and of the fatal window 
 of the Banqueting-hall which had been pointed 
 out to her, and then her thoughts flew back 
 again to that vault in the castle yard, and she 
 saw only too vividly in memory that open 
 vault, veiled partly by nettles and mulleins, 
 which was the unblest, unknown grave of the 
 old playfellow who had so loved her mother 
 and herself. Perhaps she had hitherto more 
 dwelt on and pitied the living than the dead, 
 as one whom fears and prayers still concerned, 
 but now as she thought of the lively sprite- 
 like being who had professed such affection 
 for her, and for whom her mother had felt so 
 much, and recollected him so soon and sud- 
 denly cut down and consigned to that dreary 
 darkness, the strange yearning spirit dismissed 
 to the unknown world, instead of her old 
 terror and repulsion, a great tenderness and 
 compunction came over her, and she longed 
 to join those who would in two days more be 
 keeping All Souls' Day in intercessions for 
 their departed, so as to atone for her past 
 dislike ; and there was that sort of feeling 
 about her which can only be described by
 
 328 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 the word 'eerie.' To relieve it Anne walked 
 to the window and undid a small wicket in 
 the shutter, so as to look out into the quiet 
 moonlight park where the trees cast their 
 long shadows on the silvery grass, and there 
 was a great calm that seemed to reach her 
 heart and spirits. 
 
 Suddenly, across the sward towards the 
 palace there came the slight, impish, almost 
 one-sided figure, with the peculiar walk, swift 
 though suggestive of a limp, the elfish set of 
 the plume, the foreign adjustment of short 
 cloak. Anne gazed with wide-stretched eyes 
 and beating heart, trying to rally her senses 
 and believe it fancy, when the figure crossed 
 into a broad streak of light cast by the lamp 
 over the door, the face was upturned for a 
 moment. It was deadly pale, and the features 
 were beyond all doubt Peregrine Oakshott's. 
 
 She sprang back from the window, dropped 
 on her knees, with her face hidden in her 
 hands, and was hardly conscious till sounds 
 of the others returning made her rally her 
 powers so as to prevent all inquiries or sur- 
 mises. It was Mrs. Labadie and Pauline 
 Dunord, the former to see that all was well
 
 XVIII HALLOWMAS EVE 329 
 
 with the Prince before repairing to the 
 Cockpit. 
 
 ' How pale you are ! ' she exclaimed. 
 ' Have you seen anything ?' 
 
 * I — It may be nothing. He is dead!' 
 stammered Anne. 
 
 * Oh then, 'tis naught but a maid's fancies,' 
 said the nurse good-humouredly. ' Miss 
 Dunord is in no mind for the sports, so she 
 will stay with His Highness, and you had 
 best come with me and drive the cobwebs out 
 of your brain.' 
 
 ' Indeed, I thank you, ma'am, but I could 
 not,' said Anne. 
 
 * You had best, I tell you, shake these 
 megrims out of your brain,' said Mrs. 
 Labadie ; but she was in too great haste 
 not to lose her share of the amusements 
 to argue the point, and the two young women 
 were left together. Pauline was in a some- 
 what exalted state, full of the sermon on the 
 connection of the Church with the invisible 
 world. 
 
 ' You have seen one of your poor dead,' she 
 said. ' Oh, may it not be that he came to 
 implore you to have pity, and join the Church,
 
 JJ'- 
 
 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 where you could intercede and offer the Holy 
 Sacrifice for him ?' 
 
 Anne started. This seemed to chime in 
 with proclivities of poor Peregrine's own, and 
 when she thought of his corpse in that un- 
 hallowed vault, it seemed to her as if he 
 must be calling on her to take measures for his 
 rest, both of body and of spirit. Yet some- 
 thing seemed to seal her tongue. She could 
 not open her lips on what she had seen, and 
 while Pauline talked on, repeating the sermon 
 which had so deeply touched her feelings, 
 Anne heard without listenincr to aucjht besides 
 her own perturbations, mentally debating 
 whether she could endure to reveal the story 
 to Father Crump, if she confessed to him, or 
 whether she should write to her uncle ; and 
 she even began to compose the letter in her 
 own mind, with the terrible revelation that 
 must commence it, but every moment the 
 idea became more formidable. How transfer 
 her own heavy burthen to her uncle, who 
 might feel bound to take steps that would 
 cut young Archfield off from parents, sister, 
 child, and home. Or supposing Dr. Wood- 
 ford disbelieved the apparition of to-night.
 
 XVIII HALLO IVM AS EVE 331 
 
 the whole would be discredited in his eyes, 
 and he might suppose the summer morning's 
 duel as much a delusion of her fancy as the 
 autumn evening's phantom ; and what evi- 
 dence had she to adduce save Charles's despair, 
 Peregrine's absence, and what there might 
 be in the vault ? 
 
 Yet if all that Father Crump and Pauline 
 said was true, that dear uncle might be under 
 a fatal delusion, and it might be the best 
 hope for herself — nay, even for that poor 
 restless spirit — to separate herself from them. 
 Here was Pauline talking of the blessedness 
 of being able to offer prayers on ' All Souls' 
 Day ' for all those of whose ultimate salvation 
 there were fears, or who might be in a state 
 of sufferincr. It even startled her as she 
 thought of her mother, whom she always gave 
 thanks for as one departed in faith and fear. 
 Would Father Crump speak of her as one in 
 a state of inevitable ignorance to be expiated 
 in tlic invisible world? It shocked the 
 daughter as almost profane. Yet it it were 
 true, and prayers and masses could aid her ? 
 
 Altogether Anne was in a mood on which 
 the voices broke strangely returning from
 
 332 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 the supper full of news. Jane Humphreys 
 was voluble on her various experiments. The 
 nuts had burnt quietly together, and that was 
 propitious to the Life-guardsman, Mr. Shaw, 
 who had shared hers ; but on the other hand, 
 the apple-paring thrown over her shoulder 
 had formed a P, and he whom she had seen 
 in the vista of looking-glasses had a gold 
 chain but neither a uniform nor a P in his 
 name, and Mrs. Buss declared that it meant 
 that she should be three times married,- and 
 the last would be an Alderman, if not Lord 
 Mayor ; and Mrs. Royer was joking Miss 
 Bridgeman on the I of her apple -paring, 
 which could stand for nothing but a certain 
 Incle among 'the Cockpit folk,' who was her 
 special detestation. 
 
 Princess Anne and her husband had come 
 down to see the nuts flying, and had laughed 
 enough to split their sides, till Lord Cornbury 
 came in and whispered something to Prince 
 George, who said, ' Est il possible ? ' and 
 spoke to the Princess, and they all went 
 away together. Yes, and the Bishop of Bath 
 and Wells, who had been laughing before 
 looked very grave, and went with them.
 
 XVIII HALLOWMAS EVE 32,3 
 
 'Oh!' exclaimed Anne, ' is the Bishop of 
 Bath and Wells here ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, in spite of his disgrace, I hear he 
 is to preach in your Protestant chapel to- 
 morrow.' 
 
 Anne had brought a letter of introduction 
 from her uncle in case she should have any 
 opportunity of seeing his old fellow canon, 
 who had often been kind to her when she 
 was a little cfirl at Winchester. She was in 
 many minds of hope and fear as to the meet- 
 ing him or speaking to him, under the con- 
 sciousness of the possible defection from his 
 Church, and the doubt and dread whether to 
 confide her secret and consult him. How- 
 ever, the extreme improbability of her being 
 able to do so made the yearning for the sight 
 of a Winchester face predominate, and her 
 vigil of the night past made the nursery 
 authorities concede that she had foirly earned 
 her turn to go to church in the forenoon, since 
 she was obstinate enough to want to run after 
 an old heretic so-called Bishop who had so 
 pragmatically withstood His Majesty. Jane 
 Humphreys went too, for though she was not 
 fond of week-day services, any escape from
 
 334 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 the nursery was welcome, and there was 
 a chance of seeing Lady Churchill's new 
 mantle. 
 
 In this she was disappointed, for none of 
 the grandees were present, indeed it was 
 whispered as the two girls made their way to 
 the chapel, that there was great excitement 
 over the Declaration of the Prince of Orange, 
 which had arrived last night, that he had 
 been invited by the lords spiritual and 
 temporal to take up the cause of the liberties 
 of England, and inquire into the evidence of 
 the birth of the Prince of Wales. 
 
 People shrugged their shoulders, but looked 
 volumes, though it was no time nor place for 
 saying more ; and when in the chapel, that 
 countenance of Bishop Ken, so beautiful in 
 outward form, so expressive of strength, 
 sweetness, and devotion, brought back such 
 a flood of old associations to Anne, that it 
 was enough to change the whole current of 
 her thoughts and make her her own mother's 
 child again, even before he opened his mouth. 
 She caught his sweet voice in the Psalms, 
 and closing her eyes seemed to be in the 
 Cathedral once more among those mighty
 
 XVIII HALLOWMAS EVE 335 
 
 columns and arches ; and when he began his 
 sermon, on the text, ' Let the Saints be joyful 
 with glory, let them rejoice in their beds,' she 
 found the Communion of Saints in Paradise 
 and on earth knit together in one fellowship 
 as truly and preciously brought home to her 
 as ever it had been to Pauline, and moreover 
 when she thought of her mother, ' the lurid 
 mist ' was dispelled which had so haunted her 
 the night before. 
 
 The longing to speak to him awoke ; and 
 as he was quitting the chapel in full procession 
 his kindly eye lit upon her with a look of 
 recognition ; and before she had moved from 
 her place, one of the attendant clergy came 
 back by his desire to conduct her to him. 
 
 He held out his hand as she courtesied 
 low. 
 
 'Mistress Woodford,' he said, 'my old 
 friend's niece ! He wrote to me of you, but 
 I have had no opportunity of seeing you 
 before. ' 
 
 ' Oh, my Lord ! I was so much lon^ine to 
 see and speak with you.' 
 
 ' I ani lodging at Lambeth,' said the 
 Bishop, 'and it is too far to take you with
 
 336 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 me thither, but perhaps my good brother 
 here,' turning to the chaplain, 'can help us 
 to a room where we can be private.' 
 
 This was done ; the chaplain's parlour at 
 the Cockpit was placed at their disposal, and 
 there a few kind words from Bishop Ken led 
 to the unburthening of her heavy heart. Of 
 Ken's replies to the controversial difficulties 
 there is no need to tell. Indeed, ambition 
 was far more her temptation than any real 
 difficulties as to doctrine. Her dissatisfac- 
 tion at being unable to answer the questions 
 raised by Father Crump was exaggerated as 
 the excuse and cover to herself of her craving 
 for escape from her present subordinate post ; 
 and this the Bishop soon saw, and tenderly 
 but firmly drew her to own both this and to 
 confess the ambitious spirit which had led 
 her into this scene of temptation. ' It was 
 true indeed,' he said, 'that trial by our own 
 error is hardest to encounter, but you have 
 repented, and by God's grace, my child, I 
 trust you will be enabled to steer your course 
 aright through the trials of loyalty to our 
 God and to our King that are coming upon 
 us all. Ever remember God and the plain
 
 xviii HALLOWMAS EVE 337 
 
 duty first, His anointed next. Is there more 
 that you would like to tell me ? for you still 
 bear a troubled look, and I have full time.' 
 
 Then Anne told him all the strange ad- 
 venture of Portchester Castle, and even of 
 the apparition of the night before. That 
 gentleness and sympathy seemed to draw out 
 all that was in her heart, and to her surprise, 
 he did not treat the story of that figure as 
 necessarily a delusion. He had known and 
 heard too much of spiritual manifestations 
 to the outward senses to declare that such 
 thino^s could not be. 
 
 What she had seen might be explained by 
 one of four hypotheses. It was either a 
 phantom of her brain, and her being fully 
 awake, although recently dwelling on the 
 recollection, rendered that idea less probable, 
 or the young man had not been killed, and 
 she had seen him m propria persona. 
 
 She had Charles Archfield's word that 
 the death was certain. He had never been 
 heard of again, and if alive, the walk before 
 Whitehall was the last place where he would 
 be. As to mistaking any one else for him, 
 the Bishop remembered enough of the queer 
 
 VOL. I z
 
 338 A REPUTED CHANGELING chap. 
 
 chano-elinof elf to agfree with her that it was 
 not a very probable contingency. And if it 
 were indeed a spirit, why should it visit her ? 
 There had been one good effect certainly in 
 the revival of home thoughts and turning her 
 mind from the allurements of favour, but 
 that did not seem to account for the spirit 
 seeking her out. 
 
 Was it, Anne faltered, a sign that she 
 ought to confess all, for the sake of procuring 
 Christian burial for him. Yet how should 
 she, when she had promised silence to young 
 Archfield ? True, it was for his wife's sake, 
 and she was dead ; but there were the rest 
 of his family and himself to be considered. 
 What should she do ? 
 
 The Bishop thought a little while, then 
 said that he did not believe that she ought to 
 speak without Mr. Archfield's consent, unless 
 she saw any one else brought into danger by 
 her silence. If it ever became possible, he 
 thought, that she should ascertain whether 
 the body were in the vault, and if so, it 
 might be possible to procure burial for it, 
 perhaps without identification, or at any rate 
 without making known what could only cause
 
 xviii HALLOWMAS EVE 339 
 
 hostility and distress between the two families, 
 unless the young man himself on his return 
 should make the confession. This the Bishop 
 evidently considered the sounder, though the 
 harder course, but he held that Anne had no 
 right to take the initiative. She could only 
 wait, and bear her load alone ; but the ex- 
 treme kindness and compassion with which 
 he talked to her soothed and comforted her 
 so much that she felt infinitely relieved and 
 strengthened when he dismissed her with his 
 blessing, and far happier and more at peace 
 than she had been since that terrible summer 
 morning, though greatly humbled, and taught 
 to repent of her aspirations after earthly 
 greatness, and to accept her present condition 
 as a just retribution, and a trial of constancy. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 Printed by R. & R. Clark, Edinburgh.
 
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 Heady, 
 
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 Heartsease. 
 
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