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"Mere caprice, believe me," rejoined Pillichody. "She loves him better than ever."
"It may be so," returned Blaize; "for Patience, who ought to know something of the matter, assured me she was dying for the earl; and if she had not told me the contrary herself, I should not have believed it."
"Did she tell you so in the presence of Leonard?" asked Pillichody.
"Why, now I bethink me, he was present," replied Blaize, involuntarily putting his hand to his shoulder, as he recalled the horsewhipping he had received on that occasion.
"I knew it!" cried Pillichody. "She is afraid to confess her attachment to the earl. Is Leonard as much devoted to her as ever?"
"I fancy so," replied Blaize, "but she certainly gives him no encouragement."
"Confirmation!" exclaimed Pillichody. "But fill your glass. We will drink to the earl's speedy union with Amabel."
"Not so loud," cried Blaize, looking uneasily round the cellar. "I should not like Leonard to overhear us."
"Neither should I," returned Pillichody, "for I have something to say to you respecting him."
"You need not propose any more plans for carrying off Amabel," cried Blaize, "for I won't take any part in them."
"I have no such intention," rejoined Pillichody. "The truth is," he added, mysteriously, "I am inclined to side with you and Leonard. But as we have finished our bottle, suppose we take a turn in the court-yard."
"With all my heart," replied Blaize.
Immediately after Amabel's departure Charles proceeded with his courtiers to the garden, and continued to saunter up and down the terrace for some time, during which he engaged Rochester in conversation, so as to give him no pretext for absenting himself. The king next ascended to the belvedere, and having surveyed the prospect from it, was about to descend when he caught a glimpse of Nizza Macascree on the great staircase, and instantly flew towards her.
"I must have a word with you, sweetheart," he cried, taking her hand, which she did not dare to withdraw.
Ready to sink with confusion, Nizza suffered herself to be led towards the receiving-room. Motioning to the courtiers to remain without, Charles entered it with his blushing companion, and after putting several questions to her, which she answered with great timidity and modesty, inquired into the state of her heart.
"Answer me frankly," he said. "Are your affections engaged?"
"Since your majesty deigns to interest yourself so much about me," replied Nizza, "I will use no disguise. They are."
"To whom?" demanded the king.
"To Leonard Holt," was the answer.
"What! the apprentice who brought Amabel hither!" cried the king. "Why, the Earl of Rochester seemed to intimate that he was in love with Amabel. Is it so?"
"I cannot deny it," replied Nizza, hanging down her head.
"If this is the case, it is incumbent on me to provide you with a new lover," replied Charles. "What will you say, sweetheart, if I tell you, you have made a royal conquest?"
"I should tremble to hear it," replied Nizza. "But your majesty is jesting with me."
"On my soul, no!" rejoined the king, passionately. "I have never seen beauty equal to yours, sweetheart—never have been so suddenly, so completely captivated before."
"Oh! do not use this language towards me, my liege," replied Nizza, dropping on her knee before him. "I am unworthy your notice. My heart is entirely given to Leonard Holt."
"You will speedily forget him in the brilliant destiny which awaits you, child," returned Charles, raising her. "Do not bestow another thought on the senseless dolt who can prefer Amabel's sickly charms to your piquant attractions. By Heaven! you shall be mine."
"Never!" exclaimed Nizza, extricating herself from his grasp, and rushing towards the door.
"You fly in vain," cried the king, laughingly pursuing her.
As he spoke the door opened, and Sir Paul Parravicin entered the room. The knight started on seeing how matters stood, and the king looked surprised and angry. Taking advantage of their embarrassment, Nizza made good her retreat, and hurrying to Amabel's chamber, closed and bolted the door.
"What is the matter?" cried Amabel, startled by her agitated appearance.
"Sir Paul Parravicin is here," replied Nizza. "I have seen him. But that is not all. I am unlucky enough to have attracted the king's fancy. He has terrified me with his proposals."
"Our persecution is never to end," rejoined Amabel; "you are as unfortunate as myself."
"And there is no possibility of escape," returned Nizza, bursting into tears; we are snared like birds in the nets of the fowler."
"You can fly with Leonard if you choose," replied Amabel.
"And leave you—impossible!" rejoined Nizza.
"There is nothing for it, then, but resignation," returned Amabel. "Let us put a firm trust in Heaven, and no ill can befall us."
After passing several hours of the greatest disquietude, they were about to retire to rest, when Mrs. Buscot tapped at the door, and making herself known, was instantly admitted.
"Alas!" she cried, clasping her niece round the neck, "I tremble to tell you what I have heard. Despite the king's injunctions, the wicked Earl of Rochester is determined to see you before morning, and to force you to compliance with his wishes. You must fly as soon as it is dark."
"But how am I to fly, dear aunt?" rejoined Amabel. "You yourself know that the keys of the stable are taken away, and that two of the king's attendants will remain on the watch all night. How will it be possible to elude their vigilance?"
"Leave Leonard to manage it," replied Mrs. Buscot. "Only prepare to set out. John Lutcombe will guide you across the downs to Kingston Lisle, where good Mrs. Compton will take care of you, and when the danger is over you can return to me."
"It is a hazardous expedient," rejoined Amabel, "and I would rather run all risks, and remain here. If the earl should resort to violence, I can appeal to the king for protection."
"If you have any regard for me, fly," cried Nizza Macascree. "I am lost if I remain here till to-morrow."
"For your sake I will go, then," returned Amabel. "But I have a foreboding that I am running into the teeth of danger."
"Oh! say not so," rejoined Mrs. Buscot. "I am persuaded it is for the best. I must leave you now, but I will send Leonard to you."
"It is needless," replied Amabel. "Let him come to us at the proper time. We will be ready."
To explain the cause of Mrs. Buscot's alarm, it will be necessary to return to the receiving-room, and ascertain what occurred after Nizza's flight. Charles, who at first had been greatly annoyed by Parravicin's abrupt entrance, speedily recovered his temper, and laughed at the other's forced apologies.
"I find I have a rival in your majesty," observed the knight. "It is unlucky for me that you have encountered Nizza. Her charms were certain to inflame you. But when I tell you I am desperately enamoured of her, I am persuaded you will not interfere with me."
"I will tell you what I will do," replied the good-humoured monarch, after a moment's reflection. "I remember your mentioning that you once played with a Captain Disbrowe for his wife, and won her from him. We will play for this girl in the same manner."
"But your majesty is a far more skilful player than Disbrowe," replied Parravicin, reluctantly.
"It matters not," rejoined the monarch; "the chances will be more equal—or rather the advantage will be greatly on your side, for you are allowed to be the luckiest and best player at my court. If I win, she is mine. If, on the contrary, fortune favours you, I resign her."
"Since there is no avoiding it, I accept the challenge," replied Parravicin.
"The decision shall not be delayed an instant," cried Charles, "What, ho!—dice!—dice!"
An attendant answering the summons, he desired that the other courtiers should be admitted, and dice brought. The latter order could not be so easily obeyed, there being no such articles at Ashdown; and the attendants were driven to their wits' ends, when Pillichody chancing to overhear what was going forward, produced a box and dice, which were instantly conveyed to the king, and the play commenced. Charles, to his inexpressible delight and Parravicin's chagrin, came off the winner, and the mortification of the latter was increased by the laughter and taunts of the spectators.
"You are not in your usual luck to-day," observed Rochester to him, as they walked aside.
"For all this, do not think I will surrender Nizza," replied Parravicin, in a low tone, "I love her too well for that."
"I cannot blame you," replied Rochester. "Step this way," he added, drawing him to the further end of the room. "It is my intention to carry off Amabel to-night, notwithstanding old Rowley's injunctions to the contrary, and I propose to accomplish my purpose in the following manner. I will frighten her into flying with Leonard Holt, and will then secretly follow her. Nizza Macascree is sure to accompany her, and will, therefore, be in your power."
"I see!" cried Parravicin. "A capital project!"
"Pillichody has contrived to ingratiate himself with Blaize," pursued the earl, "and through him the matter can be easily managed. The keys of the stables, which are now intrusted to Chiffinch, shall be stolen—the horses set free—and the two damsels caught in the trap prepared for them, while the only person blamed in the matter will be Leonard."
"Bravo!" exclaimed Parravicin. "I am impatient for the scheme to be put into execution."
"I will set about it at once," returned Rochester.
And separating from Parravicin, he formed some excuse for quitting the royal presence.
About an hour afterwards, Pillichody sought out Blaize, and told him, with a very mysterious air, that he had something to confide to him.
"You know my regard for the Earl of Rochester and Sir Paul Parravicin," he said, "and that I would do anything an honourable man ought to do to assist them. But there are certain bounds which even friendship cannot induce me to pass. They meditate the worst designs against Amabel and Nizza Macascree, and intend to accomplish their base purpose before daybreak. I therefore give you notice, that you may acquaint Leonard Holt with the dangerous situation of the poor girls, and contrive their escape in the early part of the night. I will steal the keys of the stable for you from Chiffinch, and will render you every assistance in my power. But if you are discovered, you must not betray me."
"Not for the world!" replied Blaize. "I am sure we are infinitely obliged to you. It is a horrible design, and must be prevented. I wish all this flying and escaping was over. I desire to be quiet, and am quite sorry to leave this charming place."
"There is no alternative now," rejoined Pillichody.
"So it appears," groaned Blaize.
The substance of Pillichody's communication was immediately conveyed to Leonard, who told Blaize to acquaint his informer that he should have two pieces of gold, if he brought them the keys. To obtain them was not very difficult, and the bully was aided in accomplishing the task by the Earl of Rochester in the following manner. Chiffinch was an inordinate drinker, and satisfied he could turn this failing to account, the earl went into the ball where he was stationed, and after a little conversation, called for a flask of wine. It was brought, and while they were quaffing bumpers, Pillichody, who had entered unperceived, contrived to open a table-drawer in which the keys were placed, and slip them noiselessly into his doublet. He then stole away, and delivered his prize to Blaize, receiving in return the promised reward, and chuckling to himself at the success of his roguery. The keys were conveyed by the porter to Leonard, and the latter handed them in his turn to John Lutcombe, who engaged to have the horses at the lower end of the south avenue an hour before midnight.
IX.
KINGSTON LISLE
About half-past ten, and when it was supposed that the king and his courtiers had retired to rest (for early hours were kept in those days), Mrs. Buscot and Leonard repaired to Amabel's chamber. The good housekeeper noticed with great uneasiness that her niece looked excessively pale and agitated, and she would have persuaded her to abandon all idea of flight, if she had not feared that her stay might be attended with still worse consequences.
Before the party set out, Mrs. Buscot crept down stairs to see that all was safe, and returned almost instantly, with the very satisfactory intelligence that Chiffinch was snoring in a chair in the hall, and that the usher had probably retired to rest, as he was nowhere to be seen. Not a moment, therefore, was to be lost, and they descended the great staircase as noiselessly as possible. So far all had gone well; but on gaining the hall, Amabel's strength completely deserted her, and if Leonard had not caught her in his arms, she must have fallen. He was hurrying forward with his burden towards a passage on the right, when Chiffinch, who had been disturbed by the noise, suddenly started to his feet, and commanded him to stop. At this moment, a figure enveloped in a cloak darted from behind a door, and extinguishing the lamp which Chiffinch had taken from the table, seized him with a powerful grasp. All was now buried in darkness, and while Leonard Holt was hesitating what to do, he heard a voice, which he knew to be that of Pillichody, whisper in his ear, "Come with me—I will secure your retreat. Quick! quick!"
Suffering himself to be drawn along, and closely followed by Nizza Macascree and Mrs. Buscot, Leonard crossed the dining-chamber, not without stumbling against some of the furniture by the way, and through an open window into the court, where he found Blaize awaiting him. Without waiting for thanks, Pillichody then disappeared, and Mrs. Buscot, having pointed out the course he ought to pursue, bade him farewell.
Hurrying across the court, he reached the south avenue, but had not proceeded far when it became evident, from the lights at the windows, as well as from the shouts and other noises proceeding from the court, that their flight was discovered. Encumbered as he was by his lovely burden, Leonard ran on so swiftly, that Nizza Macascree and Blaize could scarcely keep up with him. They found John Lutcombe at the end of the avenue with the horses, and mounting them, set off along the downs, accompanied by the keeper, who acted as their guide. Striking off on the right, they came to a spot covered over with immense grey stones, resembling those rocky fragments used by the Druids in the construction of a cromlech, and, as it was quite dark, it required some caution in passing through them. Guided by the keeper, who here took hold of the bridle of his horse, Leonard threaded the pass with safety; but Blaize was not equally fortunate. Alarmed by the sounds in the rear, and not attending to the keeper's caution, he urged his horse on, and the animal coming in contact with a stone, stumbled, and precipitated him and Nizza Macascree to the ground. Luckily, neither of them fell against the stone, or the consequences might have been fatal. John Lutcombe instantly flew to their aid, but before he reached them, Nizza Macascree had regained her feet. Blaize, however, who was considerably shaken and bruised by the fall, was not quite so expeditious, and his dilatoriness so provoked the keeper, that, seizing him in his arms, he lifted him into the saddle. Just as Nizza Macascree was placed on the pillion behind him, the tramp of horses was heard rapidly approaching. In another moment their pursuers came up, and the foremost, whose tones proclaimed him the Earl of Rochester, commanded them to stop. Inexpressibly alarmed, Amabel could not repress a scream, and guided by the sound, the earl dashed to her side, and seized the bridle of her steed.
A short struggle took place between him and Leonard, in which the hitter strove to break away; but the earl, drawing his sword, held it to his throat.
"Deliver up your mistress instantly," he cried, in a menacing tone, "or you are a dead man."
Leonard returned a peremptory refusal.
"Hold!" exclaimed Amabel, springing from the horse; "I will not be the cause of bloodshed. I implore you, my lord, to desist from this outrage. You will gain nothing by it but my death."
"Let him touch you at his peril," cried John Lutcombe, rushing towards them, and interposing his stalwart person between her and the earl.
"Stand aside, dog!" cried Rochester furiously, "or I will trample you beneath my horse's hoofs."
"You must first get near me to do it," rejoined the keeper. And as he spoke he struck the horse so violent a blow with a stout oaken cudgel with which he was provided, that the animal became unmanageable, and dashed across the downs to some distance with his rider.
Meanwhile, Parravicin having ridden up with Pillichody (for they proved to be the earl's companions) assailed Blaize, and commanded him to deliver up Nizza Macascree. Scared almost out of his senses, the porter would have instantly complied, if the piper's daughter had not kept fast hold of him, and reproaching him with his cowardice, screamed loudly for help. Heedless of her cries, Parravicin seized her, and strove to drag her from the horse; but she only clung the closer to Blaize, and the other, expecting every moment to pay another visit to the ground, added his vociferations for assistance to hers.
"Leave go your hold," he cried, to Pillichody, who had seized him on the other side by the collar. "Leave go, I say, or you will rend my jerkin asunder. What are you doing here? I thought you were to help us to escape."
"So I have done," rejoined Pillichody, bursting into a loud laugh; "and I am now helping to catch you again. What a blind buzzard you must be not to perceive the net spread for you! Deliver up Nizza Macascree without more ado, or, by all the fiends, I will pay you off for your dastardly assault upon me this morning."
"I cannot deliver her up," cried Blaize; "she sticks to me as fast as a burr. I shall be torn asunder between you. Help! help!"
Parravicin, having dismounted, now tore away Nizza Macascree, and was just about to transfer her to his own steed, when John Lutcombe, having driven away the earl in the manner before described, came to the rescue. One blow from his cudgel stretched the knight on the sod, and liberated Nizza Macascree, who instantly flew to her preserver. Finding how matters stood, and that he was likely to be well backed, Blaize plucked up his courage, and grappled with Pillichody. In the struggle they both tumbled to the ground. The keeper rushed towards them, and seizing Pillichody, began to belabour him soundly. In vain the bully implored mercy. He underwent a severe chastisement, and Blaize added a few kicks to the shower of blows proceeding from the keeper, crying, as he dealt them, "Who is the buzzard now, I should like to know?"
By this time, Parravicin had regained his legs, and the Earl of Rochester having forced back his steed, both drew their swords, and, burning for vengeance, prepared to renew the charge. The affair might have assumed a serious aspect, if it had not chanced that at this juncture lights were seen hurrying along the avenue, and the next moment, a large party issued from it.
"It is the king?" cried Rochester. "What is to be done?"
"Our prey must be abandoned," rejoined Parravicin; "it will never do to be caught here."
With this he sprang upon his steed, and disappeared across the downs with the earl.
John Lutcombe, on perceiving the approach of the torch-bearers, instantly abandoned Pillichody, and assisting Blaize to the saddle, placed Nizza behind him. Leonard, likewise, who had dismounted to support Amabel, replaced her in the pillion, and in a few seconds the party were in motion. Pillichody, who was the only person now left, did not care to wait for the king's arrival, but snatching the bridle of his steed, which was quietly grazing at a little distance, mounted him, and galloped off in the direction which he fancied had been taken by the earl and his companion.
Guided by the keeper, who ran beside them, the fugitives proceeded for a couple of miles at a rapid pace over the downs, when, it not appearing that they were followed, John Lutcombe halted for a moment to recover breath. The fresh air had in some degree revived Amabel, and the circumstance of their providential deliverance raised the spirits of the whole party. Soon after this, they reached the ridge of the downs, the magnificent view from which was completely hidden by the shades of night, and, tracking the old Roman road for about a mile, descended the steep hill in the direction of the Blowing Stone. Skirting a thick grove of trees, they presently came to a gate, which the keeper opened, and led them through an orchard towards what appeared to be in the gloom a moderately-sized and comfortable habitation.
"The owner of this house, Mrs. Compton," observed John Lutcombe to Amabel, "is a widow, and the kindest lady in Berkshire. A message has been sent by your aunt to beg her to afford you an asylum for a few days, and I will answer for it you will be hospitably received."
As he spoke, the loud barking of a dog was heard, and an old grey-headed butler was seen advancing towards them with a lantern in his hand. At the same time a groom issued from the stable on the right, accompanied by the dog in question, and, hastening towards them, assisted them to dismount. The dog seemed to recognise the keeper, and leaped upon him, licked his hand, and exhibited other symptoms of delight.
"What, Ringwood," cried the keeper, patting his head, "dost thou know thy old master again? I see you have taken good care of him, Sam," he added to the groom. "I knew I was placing him into good hands when I gave him to Mrs. Compton."
"Ay, ay, he can't find a better home, I fancy," said the groom.
"Will it please you to walk this way, ladies?" interposed the butler. "My mistress has been expecting you for some time, and had become quite uneasy about you." So saying, he led the way through a garden, filled with the odours of a hundred unseen flowers, and ushered them into the house.
Mrs. Compton, an elderly lady, of very pleasing exterior, received them with great kindness, and conducted them to a comfortable apartment, surrounded with book-shelves and old family portraits, where refreshments were spread out for them. The good old lady seemed particularly interested in Amabel, and pressed her, but in vain, to partake of the refreshments. With extreme delicacy, she refrained from inquiring into the cause of their visit, and seeing that they appeared, much fatigued, rang for a female attendant, and conducted them to a sleeping-chamber, where she took leave of them for the night. Amabel was delighted with her kind hostess, and, contrary to her expectations and to those of Nizza Macascree, enjoyed undisturbed repose. She awoke in the morning greatly refreshed, and, after attiring herself, gazed through her chamber window. It looked upon a trim and beautiful garden, with a green and mossy plot carved out into quaintly-fashioned beds, filled with the choicest flowers, and surrounded by fine timber, amid which a tall fir-tree appeared proudly conspicuous. Mrs. Compton, who, it appeared, always arose with the sun, was busied in tending her flowers, and as Amabel watched her interesting pursuits, she could scarcely help envying her.
"What a delightful life your mistress must lead," she observed to a female attendant who was present; "I cannot imagine greater happiness than hers."
"My mistress ought to be happy," said the attendant; "for there is no one living who does more good. Not a cottage nor a farm-house in the neighbourhood but she visits to inquire whether she can be of any service to its inmates; and wherever her services are required, they are always rendered. Mrs. Compton's name will never be forgotten in Kingston Lisle."
At this moment, Amabel caught sight of the benevolent countenance of the good old lady looking up at the window, and a kindly greeting passed between them. Ringwood, who was a privileged intruder, was careering round the garden, and though his mistress watched his gambols round her favourite flower-beds with some anxiety, she did not check him. Amabel and Nizza now went down stairs, and Mrs. Compton returning from the garden, all the household, including Leonard and Blaize, assembled in the breakfast-room for morning prayers.
Breakfast over, Mrs. Compton entered into conversation with Amabel, and ascertained all the particulars of her history. She was greatly interested in it, but did not affect to conceal the anxiety it gave her.
"Yours is really a very dangerous position," she said, "and I should be acting unfairly towards you if I told you otherwise. However, I will give you all the protection in my power, and I trust your retreat may not be discovered."
Mrs. Compton's remark did not tend to dispel Amabel's uneasiness, and both she and Nizza Macascree passed a day of great disquietude.
In the mean time, Leonard and Blaize were treated with great hospitality by the old butler in the servants' hall; and though the former was not without apprehension that their retreat might be discovered, he trusted, if it were so, to some fortunate chance to effect their escape. He did not dare to confide his apprehensions to the butler, nor did the other make any inquiries; but it being understood that their visit was to be secret, every precaution was taken to keep it so. John Lutcombe had tarried no longer than enabled him to discuss a jug of ale, and then set out for Ashdown, promising to return on the following day; but he had not yet made his appearance. Evening arrived, and nothing alarming having occurred, all became comparatively easy; and Mrs. Compton herself, who had looked unusually grave throughout the day, now recovered her wonted cheerfulness.
Their satisfaction, however, was not long afterwards disturbed by the arrival of a large train of horsemen at the gate, and a stately personage alighted, and walked at the head of a gallant train, towards the house. At the sight of the new-comers, whom they instantly knew were the king and his suite, Amabel and Nizza Macascree flew upstairs, and shutting themselves in their chamber, awaited the result in the utmost trepidation. They were not kept long in suspense. Shortly after the king's arrival, Mrs. Compton herself knocked at the door, and in a tone of deep commiseration, informed Amabel that his majesty desired to see her.
Knowing that refusal was impossible, Amabel complied, and descended to a room looking upon the garden, in which she found the king. He was attended only by Chiffinch, and received her with a somewhat severe aspect, and demanded why she had left Ashdown contrary to his express injunctions?
Amabel stated her motives.
"What you tell me is by no means satisfactory," rejoined the king; "but since you have chosen to trust to yourself, you can no longer look for protection from me."
"I beseech your majesty to consider the strait into which I was driven," returned Amabel, imploringly.
"Summon the Earl of Rochester to the presence," said the king, turning from her to Chiffinch.
"In pity, sire," cried Amabel, throwing herself at his feet.
"Let the injunction be obeyed," rejoined Charles, peremptorily.
And the chief page departed.
Amabel instantly arose, and drew herself proudly up. Soon afterwards, Rochester made his appearance, and on seeing Amabel, a flush of triumphant joy overspread his features.
"I withdraw my interdiction, my lord," said the king to him. "You are at liberty to renew your suit to this girl."
"Hear me, Lord Rochester," said Amabel, addressing the earl; "I have conquered the passion I once felt for you, and regard you only as one who has sought my ruin, and from whom I have fortunately escaped. When you learn from my own lips that my heart is dead to you, that I never can love you more, and that I only desire to be freed from your addresses, I cannot doubt but you will discontinue them."
"Your declaration only inflames me the more, lovely Amabel," replied the earl, passionately. "You must, and shall be mine."
"Then my death will rest at your door," she rejoined.
"I will take my chance of that," rejoined the earl, carelessly.
Amabel then quitted the king's presence, and returned to her own chamber, where she found Nizza Macascree in a state of indescribable agitation.
"All has happened that I anticipated," said she to Nizza Macascree. "The king will no longer protect me, and I am exposed to the persecutions of the Earl of Rochester, who is here."
As she spoke, an usher entered, and informed Nizza Macascree that the king commanded her presence. The piper's daughter looked at Amabel with a glance of unutterable anguish.
"I fear you must go," said Amabel, "but Heaven will protect you!"
They then tenderly embraced each other, and Nizza Macascree departed with the usher.
Some time having elapsed, and Nizza not returning, Amabel became seriously uneasy. Hearing a noise below, she looked forth from the window, and perceived the king and all his train departing. A terrible foreboding shot through her heart. She gazed anxiously after them, but could not perceive Nizza Macascree. Overcome at last by her anxiety, she rushed down stairs, and had just reached the last step, when she was seized by two persons. A shawl was passed over her head, and she was forced out of the house.
* * * * *
