CHAPTER XIX.
Sir John Newark was in a peculiarly gay and lively mood when his noble guest descended to breakfast. He ventured upon a jest or two--a thing rare with him--and discoursed fluently upon matters of literature and affairs of state; not very profoundly, indeed, yet speciously and well. After the meal, he asked Smeaton when he would like to ride over to Mount Place, and the young nobleman replied--
"In a day or two."
Sir John seemed surprised and a little mortified.
"I understood your Lordship," he said, in a cold tone, "that you would go to-day, when we were talking of this matter yesterday; and, judging that it might be as well, that Mount Place should be free of any unpleasant guests, I sent intimation to Sir James this morning that such would be the case. True, I should not have meddled. Busybodies are always doing mischief."
"It matters not," rejoined Smeaton, good-humouredly; for his heart was opened by its own happiness. "I can ride over to-day as well as to-morrow; and, as you have sent, I will do so."
"Pray do not put yourself to any inconvenience," said Sir John Newark, with all his urbanity restored. "I only feared it might mortify the good old man."
"Nay, I will not do that," answered his guest. "I will set off immediately."
"Perhaps you had better wait an hour or two," remarked Sir John, "in case our friend should have any preparations to make."
"Oh, no," returned Smeaton. "I will take the morning ride. The less of ceremony on such occasions the better. Am I to have the pleasure of your company?"
Sir John Newark shook his head with a rueful countenance, saying:
"I shall spend the next two or three hours less agreeably. I have some persons coming to me upon matters of dull business; but, if they leave me in time, I will join you at Mount Place. And now, my dear Lord, let me revert to a subject which has been mentioned between us before. Doubtless Sir James Mount will speak to you about the sale of Keanton. If so, you will hear what he says and decide accordingly. His offer may meet your views, or it may not. Should you decline in his case, and yet wish to raise some money without parting with your property, I have forty thousand pounds quite at your service upon mortgage, if you choose to take it. The estate, I believe, is fully equal to such a burden, still leaving it your own."
They were alone on the terrace at this moment; and, what might have come next, I cannot say; for their conversation was interrupted by Richard Newark running up and enquiring whether Smeaton was about to ride out, as he was wild for a gallop.
"You cannot go with Colonel Smeaton to-day, Richard," replied his father, gravely. "He is going to Sir James Mount's, where your company may not be agreeable."
The lad gave a shy sidelong glance at his father, and then, instantly resuming his light reckless tone, answered:
"I'll ride with him part of the way, then. There can be no harm in that."
Sir John Newark frowned; but Richard pursued his point, and, catching Smeaton by the arm, exclaimed:
"Come, let us go and see the horses made ready."
Smeaton followed him to the stable; and, though he returned for a few minutes to the house in order to make some change in his dress, he saw his entertainer no more that day.
In less than twenty minutes, he and Richard Newark were on horseback, and, followed by the young nobleman's own servant and another man, were riding away in the direction of Mount Place. They spurred on at a rapid rate, and every minute or two Smeaton could see the boy's eyes turned to his face with a sort of inquiring look; but he took no notice--leaving his young companion to explain himself if he thought fit.
"Don't stay long at Mount Place, Colonel," said Richard, after they had gone about half a mile. "Mount Place is a rat-trap."
"I do not understand what you mean, Dick," replied Smeaton; "but I do not think I am likely to be caught."
"What I mean is plain enough," pursued the lad. "I have heard that, in the year ninety-two, a whole party of gentlemen were taken at Mount Place, and then again, later still, some more. The old man himself got off once; but the next time he was taken with the rest, and was eighteen months in prison. Either the lawyers found out that he was not a man, but a monkey, and did not hang him, or else they could prove nothing against him; but they hanged one or two of the others, or did something with them. So, if I were you, I would not stay long at Mount Place, for fear of being made to chew unlawful bacon."
Smeaton smiled; but at the same time demanded, in a grave tone--
"Have you any particular cause for your warning, Richard?"
"No--no," replied the lad, hesitating a little; "only two messengers went off from Ale this morning--one to Mount Place, and the other to Exeter. I have known harm happen after messengers went off, especially when they have gone so early."
Smeaton paused thoughtfully ere he replied.
"I will not stay long," he said at length; "it is but a visit of ceremony."
"Then now I will take some other road," rejoined Richard Newark; "but mind you are home before dinner, or I shall think they have kidnapped you."
"No fear of that," said his companion; "but, as your father evidently did not like your going at all, I think we had better, as you say, take separate paths."
"How goes it with you and Emmeline?" asked Richard, lowering his voice, and giving a gay look towards his companion. "Sad work, noble gentleman! The poor doves in their separate cages have been forced to silence their cooing. Ah, they will be obliged to come to me, in the end, to help them." And, laughing lightly, he turned his horse's head and galloped away.
Smeaton pursued his onward course, directed, from time to time, by the servant of Sir John Newark, who accompanied him; and at the end of little more than an hour came to a part of the country where trim hedgerows and well-cultivated fields showed the neighbourhood of some gentleman's seat. At length, a long and beautiful avenue of tall elms was seen, with the road between the trees, sloping gently upwards, and terminating at what seemed a spacious lawn, with a handsome house raised upon a high terrace above.
"That is Mount Place, sir," said Sir John Newark's servant; and Smeaton, telling him that he should have no farther occasion for his attendance, rode on with his own man.
His old military habits led him to mark everything around him, in travelling, with greater attention than men usually bestow on small objects; and his eyes were soon withdrawn from the house and the scaffold-poles with which the two wings were disfigured, to fresh marks of horses' hoofs deeply indented in the somewhat soft road. These traces were very numerous, and it seemed as if a large cavalcade had recently passed up towards the house. Without slackening his speed, the young nobleman looked to the right and left, in order to discover, if possible, whether this cavalcade had been a disciplined body or not; but the marks of the horses' hoofs were so irregular, that the suspicion which had first crossed his mind soon vanished. He easily perceived that some of the beasts had been going at a canter, others at a trot; some keeping the middle of the road, and some running upon the green turf under the trees.
Riding on at a good pace, however, the young nobleman soon approached what he had conceived to be a lawn, which now turned out to be a large grass court, or bowling-green, surrounded by dwarf walls, with the road sweeping round, on either side, to the terrace above. He could perceive servants in gaudy liveries standing at the principal door of the house; but there was no appearance of horses; and, trotting on, he dismounted and inquired for Sir James.
"He is within, sir, and expects you," replied the worthy old blue-bottle whom he addressed; and then, turning to Smeaton's servant, he added, "Take the horses round to the court at the back."
But Smeaton interfered promptly. "No, no," he said. "Walk them up and down here upon the terrace. My stay can be but very short."
Thus saying, he turned and followed the servant into the house, passed through a great hall, and up a fine old oak staircase. As he ascended, he heard many voices above; but, without hesitation, he went on. The moment after, the door of a large room was thrown open; and he found himself in the presence of eight or nine persons besides the master of the house.
Smeaton was greatly annoyed at the unexpected position in which he was placed; but his urbanity did not forsake him; and, with good-humoured cordiality, he met the foolish old magistrate, who came forward and addressed him somewhat after the following fashion:--
"Dear me, my noble, friend--noble friend--noble friend, I did not expect you so soon--not so soon--not quite so soon; or I should have been at the door to receive you--receive you--receive you. Let me introduce you to Sir Harry Blake--Sir Harry, Colonel Smeaton--Lord Talboys, Colonel Smeaton." And so he went on round the whole room, repeating each name three or four times with vast volubility.
Smeaton bowed round; and then, drawing himself up somewhat stiffly to check any unpleasant communications which he apprehended might be made, commenced a conversation with Sir James Mount upon the weather and the beautiful scenery round his house. He could see looks of surprise and impatience upon the countenance of several of those present; but he went on in the same strain, giving little opportunity to his host for a change of topic. At length, however, a square-built black-faced man, who was present, cut across the conversation, saying--"I beg your pardon for interrupting you, Sir James; but it is high time that we should consider the more important objects of our meeting. I suppose Colonel Smeaton, or by whatever name we are to know him, will take part in our deliberations."
Smeaton instantly caught at the opportunity afforded him. "Really, I have to apologise," he said, "for intruding at such a moment. I expected to find you, my dear sir, quite alone; and, had I known that any important business was to be transacted here to-day, I should not have presented myself. I will now immediately withdraw, and trust to have the pleasure of seeing you again before I quit England."
"But, my dear sir, you do not know--you do not know--you do not know," cried Sir James. "Our meeting was quite of a sudden--quite of a sudden--quite of a sudden. The intelligence that General Foster is in arms for the King--for the King--for the King, and the rumour that his Majesty--his Majesty has actually landed--"
"This is serious news indeed, Sir James," interrupted Smeaton, still drawing towards the door; "but as I have no information myself upon these matters, and have no authority of any kind, I cannot afford you advice or assistance. My visit was merely one of compliment in return for yours; and, as I have business at Keanton, I will take my leave."
With these words, and with a bow to the assembled gentlemen, who seemed a good deal disconcerted, he quitted the room and descended the stairs, followed to his horse's side by Sir James Mount, pouring forth apologies and explanations to which Smeaton turned a deaf ear. He contented himself, as his only reply, with asking the nearest way to Keanton; and, having received information from one of the old servants of the house, (Sir James himself being too much confused by all that had occurred, to answer him distinctly), he rode away, somewhat indignant at the situation in which he had been placed. He judged, and judged rightly, that the persons whom he had seen at Mount Place had been gathered together in haste on the first intimation of his coming, with the view of committing him to participation in the rash schemes which were then beginning to develope themselves; and he clearly saw that, notwithstanding the studious manner in which the old magistrate had called him Colonel Smeaton, his real name and rank had been communicated to every one present.
But other, and even more painful, considerations than those which affected him personally, now pressed upon his attention. The intelligence that a gallant, but not very discreet, officer was actually in arms in a desperate cause, and the rumour that an unfortunate prince, who, up to this time, had been suffering solely for the errors of his ancestors, had cast himself madly into the difficulties and dangers of an ill-considered insurrection against the existing government, grieved him deeply. By principle or by prejudice, as the reader may think fit to call it, he was attached to the exiled house of Stuart; his ancestors had shed their blood and lost their property in its defence; all the traditions of his family were in favour of its cause; and perhaps no man might have felt more ready to unsheath the sword for its re-establishment on the throne of England, had not many things occurred within the last five-and-twenty years to weaken in him that hereditary attachment which had brought ruin upon his father. His early life had been spent at the little Court of St. Germain, and all that he had witnessed of the mean intrigues of that court, and the shameless ingratitude of its princes towards some of their best and most faithful servants, together with the licentiousness, the weakness, the frivolity, and the baseness of the principal persons who surrounded them, if not of the princes themselves, had produced a feeling of disgust which, although it could not alter his view of the supposed justice of their cause, put an end to everything like zeal in their favour. He felt with Addison's friend, the poet Tickell, in the "Epistle to a Gentleman at Avignon:"
"From James and Rome I feel my heart decline,
And fear, O Brunswick, 'twill be wholly thine;
Yet still his share thy rival will contest,
And still the double claim divides my breast;
The fate of James with pitying eyes I view,
And wish my homage were not Brunswick's due;
To James; my _passions_ and my _weakness_ guide,
But _reason_ sways me to the victor's side."
The progress of the human mind, and the development of more just notions of government and of the rights of people as well as of princes, had been great during the twenty-five years to which I have alluded. Smeaton had mingled with many classes in many countries, had heard opinions and arguments which were never uttered in the courts of Kings, and it was impossible for him to feel in the cause of the house of Stuart that same devoted attachment which had led his father to submit to every loss without murmuring, and to bear ill-usage without complaint. Nevertheless, he felt much pain at the thought of all the disastrous results which might accrue from the enterprise which had now commenced, and his ride onward towards his mother's property was a melancholy one. We must leave him, however, for a little, to inquire into what followed his somewhat abrupt withdrawal from the house of Sir James Mount. That worthy magistrate--shrugging his shoulders, confused and irritated, but thoroughly convinced that everything he had done or could do was perfectly just, proper, and discreet--returned to his companions above, and found them in a state of great excitement. They all fell upon him at once, declaring that he had altogether misled them.
"Why, this man seems as cold a Whig," exclaimed one, "as any Hanover rat that ever swam over the sea from Bremen."
"You represented to me," said another, "that he came over expressly to ascertain what could be done for the good cause."
"You invited me this morning to meet and consult with him," said a third. "I have your note in my pocket at this moment."
"I doubt whether he is the Earl of Eskdale at all," said a fourth. "One of that family would not be so lukewarm."
Here Sir James Mount himself, who had, hitherto, only replied by shrugs and grimaces, found himself on more certain ground, and replied boldly,
"Why, I know him, Sir Harry. I have seen him myself at Nancy--at Nancy--at Nancy. There is not a doubt--there is not a doubt--there is not a doubt of who he is. As to his coldness, it may be all discretion. He came expecting to see and consult with me alone; and, as to my inviting you here, gentlemen--inviting you here--inviting you here, I did it for the best, and on good advice. Look here, what Sir John Newark says."
And, drawing a note from his pocket, he read as follows:--
"My worshipful and excellent friend, I write you these few words to tell you that our friend, the Colonel, will be over with you this morning, to speak upon the important business you wot of. He seems perfectly confident of his own safety, and to entertain no objection to meeting any one--in which, I think, he is rash; but I would have nobody at my house except discreet people, if I were in your case. Keanton is so near you that, most likely, he will go over there before he fully decides upon what he will do. It is a very valuable property; and, I should think, ought to produce a good sum if sold."
"What he means about Keanton--about Keanton--about Keanton, I cannot divine," said Sir James.
"He means it as a blind," replied one of the others; "and, in case his letter were to fall into any other hands, he would vow that it all referred to some matter of ordinary business. Ah! Sir John Newark, Sir John Newark! we all know him well. He is not to be trusted."
"Stay a minute," said Lord Talboys, "The letter may bear a different interpretation. Sir John distinctly says that the Earl will decide upon nothing till he has been to Keanton. Therefore we could not expect him to open himself to us now. Then again, this matter as to the sale of Keanton may imply that he wishes first to see what funds he shall have at command in order to raise men. You say he is a very celebrated officer, Sir James?"
"Very distinguished--very distinguished--very distinguished indeed," replied the old gentleman.
"You had better burn the letter, at all events," said the black-faced man, who was at once the shrewdest and most determined of the party. "Here, I will strike a light with a pistol-flint."
"No, no, no," said Sir James Mount. "I may have to show it again--show it again. I expect several other friends; but he came so soon--he came so soon--he came so soon. Hark! I hear some of them coming."
Almost as he spoke, one of the servants entered the room abruptly, with a face in which the nose alone was rosy; and his aspect at once alarmed the master of the house.
"What is the matter?--what is the matter?--what is the matter?" he exclaimed.
"Why, your worship, there is a body of foot soldiers half way up the avenue," replied the man, "and some forty or fifty horses have just ridden up to the back. I, am sure I don't know how they got into the park."
The confusion and disarray which now prevailed was extraordinary. Poor Sir James Mount was at what is commonly called his wit's end. Some were for running down and gaining their horses as fast as possible to escape. Others were for attempting to defend the house, and others were actually at the door of the room to sneak away, when the voice of Sir Harry Blake was heard, exclaiming--
"Stay, stay. Every one stay. There is no danger whatever, if we act like brave and prudent men. Should these soldiers come with any suspicion, we have only to say, that we have met as a body of magistrates and gentlemen to concert means for the preservation of the peace of our district, very sinister rumours having reached us of risings in different parts of the country. No one can deny our right so to meet, or even say that it was not our duty to do so. Bring a light directly, Joseph," he continued, addressing the servant. "Offer no opposition whatever to whomsoever may be at the head of the soldiers. But the light. The first thing is the light."
As he spoke, he drew the note he had received from Sir James Mount from his pocket, and threw it and another paper into the fire-place. All who were present followed his example; and, as the light did not come as soon as they expected, the pile was set on fire by some gunpowder and a pistol-flint, and every scrap of paper was utterly destroyed. This was not done a moment too soon; for the sparks were still wandering about in the tinder, when the high sheriff of the county entered, accompanied by the elderly general officer, in the brown suit, who had played a quiet but important part at the meeting of the magistrates in Exeter.
"I am sorry to disturb you, gentlemen," said the high sheriff; "but you have met here this morning in somewhat unusual numbers for purposes which require explanation."
"Methinks, to a magistrate of your prudence and experience," said Sir Harry Blake, "but little explanation would be required, if, as I take it for granted, the sinister rumours which have reached us of armed risings in various parts of the country have come to your ears also. But explanation is very easily given. We met in these perilous circumstances to devise means for preserving the peace of this district, and I think you will not deny, Mr. High Sheriff, that it was our duty to do so."
"I was not aware, Sir Harry," replied the gentleman whom he addressed, with a quiet sneer, "that your zeal for the peace of our Lord the King was so warm."
"Warm enough to have left a strong smell of burnt paper behind it," said the general, looking towards the fire-place. "Pray, what may have been those papers just destroyed?"
"Some incendiary addresses," replied Sir Harry, readily, with a laugh. "We thought the flame that they have just made there might be less dangerous than any other they could light up in the country."
"Ha!" said the old general. "Nevertheless, Mr. High Sheriff, I must call upon you to do your duty."
The high sheriff looked round the group assembled, and then said--
"I think I know every face here present; but there is one gentleman whom we expected to have the pleasure of meeting, and who is not amongst you. Has the Earl of Eskdale been here? Or is he expected?"
"No person of that name has been here," replied one of the gentlemen, boldly; and then, with a spice of malice, he added, "One Colonel Smeaton was here a short time ago; but, not liking our proceedings, he took his departure."
"Oh, Colonel Henry Smeaton," said the sheriff. "That will do." At the same moment, the general took a step towards the door.
"Then I suppose we may as well break up," said Sir Harry Blake; but the high sheriff waved his hand, while his military companion quitted the room.
"Pardon me, gentlemen," he said. "I must request the pleasure of the company of every one of you to Exeter. Informations have been sworn, of which you shall have copies. Here are warrants against five of you, which it will be my painful duty to see executed; and summonses have been issued against the rest to come in and surrender, which it will be well for them to obey at once."
As he spoke, the general put his head into the room, saying--
"I must away to Keanton, Mr. High Sheriff, and take a party of horse with me. I have got the information I wanted from the servants, and will overtake you on the road to Exeter."
"Join us at Silvercross, general," said the high sheriff. "I shall much need your counsel and assistance. We have four other friends to inquire after, remember; so you had better come on as soon as you have made sure of your man. Now, gentlemen, are you ready, and is it your intention to come peaceably?"
"Oh, certainly," replied Lord Talboys. "We met to preserve the peace. You apparently come to disturb it."
"It is all very good--very good--very good," said Sir James Mount, who had now a little recovered himself; "but I do not know what I have done to deserve this treatment, and I will have reason for it--reason for it, when I get to Exeter."
"You shall have reason for it here, my dear sir," replied the high sheriff. "I think this is your handwriting--if not, it is an exceedingly good imitation, and, in this letter addressed to Sir William Wyndham, you tell him there is every reason to believe that King James is actually landed in Scotland. Now, who King James is, you best know; but that is a question government is determined to enquire into in conference with yourself, and therefore I am afraid you must take a journey to London. Now, gentlemen, I will show you the way, and I trust that you will follow, without obliging me to send up for you."
Thus saying, he descended the stairs; and one after another of the party above, with dejected looks and crushed expectations, walked down after him, passing between two files of soldiers in the hall. Few words were spoken by any of them; but Sir Harry Blake whispered to Lord Talboys--
"I would bet a guinea to a pinchbeck shoe-buckle, that Newark is at the bottom of this."