CHAPTER XXXII.
Darkness was rapidly descending, when the Earl of Eskdale, guided by Quartermaster Calderwood, entered the little street of the hamlet. They found Tom Higham amusing himself with talking nonsense in a strong London jargon to some Scotch lads assembled round the door, who hardly understood what he said, and whose own language was well nigh incomprehensible to him. His master beckoned him to follow with the horses, and was led to the very outskirts of the village, where a small cottage appeared, in no very good state of preservation, and quite separated from the rest of the hamlet, being situated in the midst of its own garden or kail-yard.
"This is the only place I can assign to your Lordship," said Calderwood, as they approached; "and I fear you must share it with another gentleman who joined us this afternoon from France. There is room, however, for two; and I must dispose of the servants elsewhere."
"I am in no way nice, Quartermaster," replied Smeaton. "I have been too much accustomed to a life in arms to mind sleeping under that wall, should it be necessary."
"Ah, my Lord, I am glad to hear it," replied Calderwood. "We are sadly in want of a few men of experience amongst us."
The ordinary reflection passed through Smeaton's mind, that the more men are wanting in experience themselves, the less are they inclined to profit by the experience of others; but he forbore reply; and Calderwood opened the door. No passage, no internal door, shut the single room in the lower part of the house from the external air; and, on entering, Smeaton found himself at once in a large apartment, tenanted by four persons. One was in the garb of a servant; two others seemed to be the master of the tenement and his wife, a sandy-haired man and a black-haired woman of about forty years of age; and these three were bustling about, apparently preparing for the evening meal. The fourth person was seated before a blazing fire on the north side of the cottage. He was tall, stout, and apparently well dressed; but the last gleam of day being on the point of extinction, no candles lighted, and a considerable quantity of smoke in the room, not much could be discerned of his figure by the flickering flame of the fire.
Mr. Calderwood spoke a few words to him, explaining the necessity under which Lord Kenmure lay of quartering another gentleman in the same tenement. The stranger immediately rose, with some polite expression of pleasure, and, while the good woman of the house lighted a solitary candle, advanced to meet the new corner.
The presence of the stranger was dignified and easy, his figure fine, and his face, if not altogether handsome or pleasing, striking and remarkable. He had much the air of a military man; and his profession, or his propensities, seemed indicated by a deep and somewhat recent scar upon his brow.
The moment he saw Smeaton, his face flushed either with pleasure or some other emotion; and the young nobleman, after gazing at him for a moment, as if partly recognising him and partly doubting his own eyes, held out his hand, saying:
"This is an unexpected pleasure."
The stranger took his offered hand and shook it hard, but with a peculiar look, not the most cordial. Putting his face close to Smeaton's ear, he said--
"Call me Somerville. My name is Somerville here."
Smeaton quietly inclined his head, saying:
"I believed you were in very distant lands, Mr. Somerville. When did you return to Europe?"
"Three or four months ago," replied his companion. "I have been wandering about in France since.--Now, my good woman, will my supper never be ready? Come, bestir yourself, and add something to it for this gentleman, who is doubtless as hungry as I am."
There was evidently a feeling of restraint upon him as he spoke, which he endeavoured in vain to cover by an affectation of ease and carelessness; and the moment he had addressed this adjuration to the woman of the house, he fell into a fit of thought, without at all attending to her grumbling reply.
Smeaton was also thoughtful; but he did not lose his ease and calmness; and, by a few good-humoured words, soon induced their hostess to hurry herself somewhat more than she had been doing previously.
I might give a long detail of all the little events which took place during the next hour, and relate how Smeaton's servant, and the servant of the gentleman calling himself Somerville, were provided with quarters elsewhere; how a bare-legged damsel, with all the beauty of youth and health, a clear complexion, and large bleak eyes, came in to borrow a pot, and was not suffered to depart without many gallant compliments and a half-resisted kiss from Mr. Somerville; and how two pretty children, with very scanty clothing, from a neighbouring cottage, stood leaning upon each other, and watched the strange gentlemen who had come, while they enjoyed the meal prepared for them. But I must pass over all such minute facts, and bring the reader at once to the moment when, after having concluded their supper, Smeaton and his companion were alone together, the host and hostess having retired to their early rest, leaving the two gentlemen with a large jug of whiskey on the table and a kettle of hot water on the fire.
More than once during the earlier part of the meal, Somerville had given a momentary glance at his companion's face from under his heavy eyebrows, but withdrawn it as soon as he perceived that Smeaton's eyes were directed towards him. He meditated much, and often too; and, as I have said, there was an uneasy air about him which surprised his comrade for the time; for, when he had known him slightly some years before, he was famous for that easy daring impudence which was much affected in all countries by the class called men of wit and pleasure.
When they were left alone together, however, Smeaton at once changed the tone of the conversation, saying:
"Well, now we are without witnesses, we may speak of more interesting matters, Newark. When did you return from South America? I heard with great surprise, when I was at Nancy, that you had determined to turn merchant, and had taken some nom-de-guerre."
"Ay, a merchant adventurer," retorted the other, laying great stress upon the last word. "But it was more in the latter than the former character that I went, my good Lord. I have been back, as I told you, about three months, after having gilded my purse with a few ducats in the new world, let the Dons' blood when they were in danger of calenture from too much heat, and basked in the sweet smiles of the olive-brown dames of Peru and Mexico. I got tired of that, as of everything else in this wearisome world; and, hearing that stirring times were coming in this quarter, I thought I might as well return and stake a trifle--such as life and fortune--upon the game that is to be played, in the hope of recovering, somehow or another, a portion of what I and mine have lost."
"Did you see your uncle and aunt when you were in France?" asked Smeaton, fixing his eyes steadily upon him.
"No," replied the other, in a careless tone. "The good Lord, my uncle, is somewhat worse than senile, having fallen into a decrepitude of temper as well as of mind and body. He has turned himself into a corn-merchant, too, which does not suit my notions of propriety; and, as he never appreciated my high qualities and good points, I did not think it worth while to trouble him with my presence."
"I know you never agreed," remarked Smeaton; "and of course it is not for me to say which was in the right--"
"Meaning that I was in the wrong," said the other, with a laugh.
But Smeaton continued, as if he had not been interrupted, saying:
"You do not do him justice when you talk of senility. His mind is as clear and strong as ever, and his bodily frame but little shaken by the passing of years. I have had every opportunity of judging, having passed some weeks with himself and Lady Newark before I came to England."
"Ah! is he so strong in virtue and in muscles?" exclaimed the other, with a bitter laugh. "Heaven receive him to the place of saints, and that right speedily!"
"Nay, nay," said Smeaton. "I am sure, Newark, that wish is more upon your lips than in your heart."
"It is not, by ----," cried the other, with a fierce oath. "I should then be Lord Newark, at all events; and, as to ever getting back the lands as well as the lordship, that would be as the stars willed it, and they have always been kinder to me than he."
"I do not think you ever judged him fairly," said Smeaton, gravely. "He was certainly very kind to you in early life, and strained his small means to afford you a high education along with his two poor sons; but--"
"But I was what old women call wild, you would say," cried the other, who seemed to have a great habit of interrupting. "Well, I was wild, and scoffed a little at the doctrines and notions of elderly gentlewomen of both sexes, liking much better the doctrines of younger ladies, and occasionally quarrelled with gentlemen and soldiers who entertained heretical notions as to my right and liberties in certain cases. But what of that? I was none the worse for that. No, no, Eskdale. The head and front of my offence was his own weakness, folly, or treachery, in suffering his daughter to remain in the hands of the knave, John Newark."
"How could he help it?" asked Smeaton. "His life was not worth an hour's purchase if he ventured into England; and there was no one in this island on whom he could rely to take her from the sort of imprisonment in which she was kept, and replace her under her father's care. Doubt not, he would willingly have done it, had it been possible."
"Why did he not rely on me?" retorted the other, vehemently. "I would have released her, and brought her safely to France. I offered to do it--I had everything prepared; but he would not hear of it."
Ho muttered something to himself which Smeaton did not clearly hear, and then went on aloud--
"He made me appear like a vain boaster in the eyes of a dozen people. I told sweet John Newark that I would take away the girl from him, and cut his throat in the house where he has ensconced himself so snugly. I will do it too, before I have done with him."
"You must get him out of the Tower first," replied Smeaton; "for he is safely lodged there by this time."
"Ha!" exclaimed the other, laughing aloud. "A bagged fox! But come now," he continued, in a gayer tone; "what report do you make of that fair west countrie which I hear you have been visiting lately? Was Sir John flourishing when you were there? And what adventures did you meet with?"
"Sir John was quite well, and apparently prosperous," replied Smeaton; "that is to say, till the very day I came away, on the morning of which he was apprehended, and sent, I imagine, to the Tower. As to adventures, I met with few, and those not much worth relating."
He paused for a moment, asking himself if he should say more; but the other again went on, inquiring--
"What of the lady, what of the fair lady, sweet Mistress Emmeline? Is she as beautiful as I hear?"
"She is very beautiful and very amiable," replied Smeaton.
"And the son, Sir John Newark's son?" demanded the other. "They say his father intends to marry him to Emmeline, in the hope of securing his title to the estates, under all circumstances, and obtaining the title of Baron Newark, whatever party is in power. Did you hear anything of all this?"
"Nothing," replied Smeaton, thoughtfully. "From the character of the man, indeed," he continued, "such a scheme is not unlikely; but I do not think there could be any idea of carrying it immediately into execution. Richard Newark is a mere boy, some years younger than Emmeline herself. When first I saw him in London, he was rude, wild, and strange; but he has wonderfully improved, both in intellect and manners, in the troublous scenes we have gone through; and, though he will ever be eccentric, and very different from other persons, yet there are high and good qualities in him which make me love and esteem him much."
"Is he with his father in London?" asked the other, quietly.
"No," replied Smeaton. "He came with me into Northumberland to join the Northumbrian gentlemen now in arms; and, if Lord Kenmure agrees to the proposal which I have brought him this evening for a union of the two forces, you will see him in a day or two. In that case," he continued, gravely, almost sternly, "I must request you to treat him with all kindness, remembering that his father's faults are not his, and that he is under my protection."
The other laughed, though the hint galled him a little.
"Oh, certainly," he replied. "Your high and mighty protection, Lord Eskdale, will not be needed against me. I am not going to quarrel with a boy, nor to cut his throat because his father's ought to have been cut long ago. So there was no need of any threat."
"I used no threat indeed, Newark," said the Earl; "but, knowing you are of a quick and impetuous temper, merely suggested considerations which I thought would enable you to control it."
"Ay, right good," returned the other; "but there is no fear. I am not quarrelsome now-a-days, Heaven knows, or there is many a man I might quarrel with, without seeking out a boy for the purpose. But what, in this rout and dispersion, has become of fair Emmeline herself? Have you brought her too with you into Northumberland?"
"No indeed," replied the young Earl. "Sir John has taken her to London with him."
"Damnation!" muttered the other. "Why," he added, after an effort to control himself, "if he had left her behind at Ale, nothing would have been so easy as to get her off to France."
"But he did not so leave her," replied Smeaton, calmly. "And now, Newark, I will go and lie down in the room they showed me; for I have ridden hard and far, and passed last night under a stone wall. I must be up early, too, in the morning; for these noble lords here must come to a speedy decision; and that decision must be communicated at once to General Forster."
"Well, I shall stay here and make some way in the flagon," said the other. "Though this stuff, which is just the same as they call usquebagh in Ireland, is little better than molten fire, yet I feel that my blood wants a little warming in this accursed cold country."
"Your blood was always hot enough," observed Smeaton, moving towards the end of the stairs; "and that spirit is too strong for me. So good night, Newark." And he retired to rest.
The other remained for two hours or more, till the candle had nearly burnt into the socket. During that time, however, he drank little, but was absorbed in deep meditation, chequered apparently by many various feelings; for now he laughed, and now he looked stern and fierce.
"He did not recognise me," he muttered. "That is clear. No, not even by the mark he put upon my forehead. He shall pay that debt; but not just now. I can wait, and the interest will accumulate. We may make something of this," he again muttered, after a long pause. "We may make something of this. Let me see. John in prison on a charge of high treason; William marries the heiress, and then--what then? Why, services to the House of Hanover; one slight whirl of the weather-cock, and all is safe, especially if one could bring some intelligence with one. A Newark on the side of Hanover! That seems a strange figure of speech. One starts at it. Why should I care for whom I draw my sword? What have the Stuarts done for me? Ah! ha! ha! Doubtless, there will be plenty to keep me in countenance."
Thus saying, he rose, and retired also to rest.
Before daybreak, on the following morning, the young Earl was up and dressed, and the sky was still grey, when a messenger from Lord Kenmure reached him, requesting his presence at that nobleman's head-quarters. He found everything in bustle and activity, and he could see at once that a resolution was taken.
"We have just come to a sudden determination, my lord," said Kenmure, when Smeaton entered. "We find that Brigadier Macintosh, instead of advancing at once, after passing the Frith of Forth, has marched towards Edinburgh. He writes word, however, that he will join us shortly with his infantry, if we can maintain ourselves for a few days in the south, and gather together a body of cavalry. We have, therefore, resolved to advance as far as Rothbury to effect our junction with General Forster. It will then be necessary to retire across the border, and take measures for keeping up our communication with Macintosh. We shall consequently be your companions, instead of your followers, on the march."
In an hour from that time the troop was mounted, and on its way; but, when in full array, its numbers and its equipment were inferior even to the young Earl's expectations.