CHAPTER XLIII.
Oh the night after Ralph Woodhall's trial for treason, at the end of a lane, which at that time ran at the back of Dorchester jail, stood a man holding the bridles of two horses over his arm. From time to time he looked forward toward the prison, but more frequently kept his eyes fixed upon the ground. At length his sharp ear caught the sound of steps; and shortly after, the figures of two men appeared advancing at a quick pace. The watcher did not move from the spot, but put his hand on the hilt of his sword, and ascertained that it moved easily in the scabbard. The two men he had seen came forward rapidly, and when quite close, one of them said, "Stilling?" in an inquiring tone.
"The same, sir," said the man. "Here, fellow--here are the other two hundred pounds for you; look at it, and count it, if you will."
The third man took a bag which was held out to him, withdrew the shade of a dark lantern, and by its light examined what he had received. He soon saw that the contents of the bag were gold, and, after weighing it in his hand, seemed to be satisfied that the count must be about right.
"I dare say it's all fair," he said, "but I can not stop to count it. Good-night, sir, and good speed to you. You will be far enough by this time to-morrow, I hope."
"That he will," answered Stilling; and, drawing one of the horses forward, while the jailer closed his dark lantern and hurried rapidly away, he continued, "Let us mount and be gone, sir; we ought to be ten leagues at sea before daybreak."
Ralph sprang upon the horse's back, and in a few moments he and Gaunt Stilling were riding away from Dorchester at full speed.
The latter led the way; and very little was said by either for somewhat more than an hour end a half, when Stilling turned to his young master, saying, "We are beyond pursuit, I think, sir. Twenty minutes more will bring us to the boat's side. All is ready and arranged; and they but wait for us, to put off."
"I have much to thank you for, Stilling," replied his master; "but you must have had some assistance from others. Who has furnished you with the means to bribe these men?"
"Faith, no one furnished me with any thing for that purpose," replied Stilling; "but Lady Danvers's steward gave me five hundred pounds, to make all smooth at Bridgewater, when we were going there. I had no scruple in using it now, as I knew she would wish it used; so I paid these knaves three hundred and fifty pounds to let you out, and hired a good lugger for another hundred."
New questions and answers succeeded; and Ralph found that the cause of Stilling's never having returned to the farmhouse at the edge of Sedgemoor, when sent to obtain information, was very simple. He had fallen in with some men of the Tangier regiment, and had been carried to the quarters of Colonel Kirke. That worthy officer had thought fit to detain him, strongly suspecting that he had some design of joining the forces of Monmouth.
"I do not mean to say," continued Stilling, "that I had not a strong inclination to do so; for there was one good stroke I would fain have given in that battle. However, Kirke could prove nothing against me, except that I had made my way straight to the quarters of the king's army, which didn't suit his purpose, otherwise he would have had as much pleasure in hanging his old comrade as any of the poor rebels whom he butchered. He was forced, in the end, to let me go; and the first thing I heard was that you were in Dorchester jail. I took what measures I thought necessary, regarding the first charge against you; but I was quite unprepared for the second--and marvelous well they got it up; so I had nothing for it but to do my best to get you out after condemnation, which, knowing well all the people here in Dorchester, was no very difficult matter."
Less than half an hour more bought the two horsemen to the sea-shore at a spot where the coast was low and sandy; and after riding along for some way, they came upon a small group of fishermen's houses, where lights were still to be seen, and several persons moving about. At some little distance from the shore was a large lug sail-boat of some forty or fifty tons burden, and Ralph and his companion were instantly accosted by one or two of the fishermen, who urged them to hurry their movements, as the tide was going out.
Neither was inclined to make any long delay. Ralph sprang to the ground at once. Stilling gave the horses to one of the men, with injunctions to do with them as they had been directed before, and both entering a little row-boat which lay at the beach, were pushed off by two of the fishermen who accompanied them, and were soon safely on board the lugger. A favorable breeze was blowing, the large, heavy sails were speedily filled, and away the boat went, bounding over the waves, directing her course right toward the coast of France.
It might render the narrative more interesting, perhaps, if I could recall any hair-breadth escapes or marvelous passages in the voyage; but, alas! there were none such to chronicle. The wind was perfectly fair; the water slightly agitated, but not stormy; no king's vessels appeared, to give chase to the little craft; and the only objects they saw, except sea and sky, until they reached the French coast, were several other large fishing-boats like their own, and, just about daybreak, one man-of-war, in the far distance, with all sails set, but steering away from them. She looked like a phantom upon the waters, with her hull below the line of vision, and her sails figured faintly on the distant sky.
Toward the close of the day they reached a little French port; and doubtless it would not be very interesting to the reader to hear all the little difficulties that beset them in making their way to Holland, or how they overcame them. Suffice that they were overcome, and that Ralph and his companion crossed the frontier line in about a fortnight after they had quitted England. They made their way as rapidly as possible to Amsterdam--the Hague not being a place quite safe at that time for refugees from England. Having passed all his early life at college or in the country, Ralph Woodhall only found one person in the city with whom he had any acquaintance. This was a dry, melancholy young man, who had been at Cambridge with him for some time, but had abandoned the Church of England, and adopted the views of the most extreme Calvinists. He was kind in his own way, and Ralph was in need of kindness; but the views of this fellow-collegian were so different from his own that there could be no great companionship between them; and certainly the young Dissenter's conversation was not at all likely to lighten the load of care for any man.
Gaunt Stilling, on the contrary, found numerous acquaintances among the English who had taken refuge at Amsterdam. But both Gaunt Stilling and his master had too many dark and gloomy chambers in the palace of the breast to be willing to admit many to their intimacy. Ralph Woodhall, on his arrival at the Dutch capital, it must be recollected, was in no degree aware that a pardon had been obtained for him in regard to the crime of high treason with which he had been charged; nor did he know that Lord Woodhall, satisfied with his innocence, had ceased to pursue him for the murder of his son. Condemned for one offense which he had never committed; liable to be tried the moment he returned for another of which he was equally innocent; and, moreover, charged with a third, which was little less heinous in the eyes of the court than murder or treason, he saw nothing before him but a long and hopeless exile, the loss of all bright prospects, and the vanishing of all his dreams of love. At the same time, gnawing care preyed upon him. It may easily be supposed that he carried no great sum of money with him. Almost all he possessed had been expended in the prison; the fifty pounds which remained in Gaunt Stilling's hands from the money given by Lady Danvers was nearly exhausted, and coming want stared him in the face. Many an anxious consultation did he hold with Gaunt Stilling as to what was to be done in the circumstances in which they were placed; and but little comfort did he get from the servant, of a kind that could be at all available. Stilling's reply always was, "Oh, you will have money soon, sir, from England, and so shall I. I have taken care to let the people know where we are, and they won't leave us destitute. Your father will take care of you, and I have friends who will look out for me."
"But I can not and will not bear to be a burden upon my father," replied Ralph; "I must seek out some employment here, in the service of the state as a soldier, or in any other capacity for which I may be suited. Methinks I will go to the Hague and see the Prince of Orange. I can show him that I have had no share in this mad insurrection of Monmouth's, and prove my innocence pretty well of all other crime. I have letters, also, for several gentlemen at the Hague from the Duke of Norfolk, and doubtless they will use their influence to obtain for me some employment."
"Wait a little, sir--wait a little," was Gaunt Stilling's reply; "we shall hear something from England soon. There is news that must be sent to me, and that speedily. In the letter that brings them, we shall most likely hear more of those in whom you take an interest."
He was not wrong in his anticipations. Ten days had hardly passed when several letters reached Amsterdam for Ralph, and two for Gaunt Stilling. Ralph's intelligence was joyful on all points but one. The letters conveyed to him information that a full pardon had been obtained for him on the charge of treason; that a nolle prosequi had been entered by the attorney general in regard to the charge for murder; and that Lord Woodhall was fully convinced, from evidence that had been laid before him, of his innocence of the death of Henry Woodhall. But it seemed, from the tenor of all the letters, that a charge still hung over his head of having comforted and assisted a Nonconformist clergyman, and attended a Dissenting conventicle, which might subject him, if he returned unadvisedly, to lengthened imprisonment. Several passages in these letters were somewhat obscure; for his father, by whom one was written, did not seem to be aware that he had made his escape without any knowledge of the pardon, and Hortensia, who wrote to him likewise, though she appeared to have comprehended at once how his flight to Holland had been effected, alluded to the painful and unhappy circumstances in which he was placed in terms which he thought hardly applicable to the mere chance of his being tried for a very inferior offense.
A third letter, which surprised him much, was from his cousin, Lord Coldenham. It was written in a frank, but not cheerful vein, congratulating him on his escape from death, but urging him strongly to return to England immediately. It assigned no motives on the part of the young lord himself for pressing this point so strongly; but the concluding words of the letter were, "For the sake of your own best interests, Ralph--for the sake of your dearest hopes--come, and come directly."
The effect of the intelligence he received upon his mind was to render him thoughtful, but not sad; and he was still hesitating in some degree how he should act, for his father's letter contained a remittance which enabled him to act freely, when Gaunt Stilling joined him with an expression of countenance which puzzled the young gentleman a good deal. His brow was contracted with a heavy frown, but his eyes were bright and sparkling, and there was a quivering sort of eagerness about his lip at every word he spoke, which betrayed no inconsiderable agitation within.
"Well, sir, what news?" he said, abruptly.
Ralph gave him a summary of the intelligence he had received, and the man laughed rather wildly, saying, "Ay--is that all? better news than mine."
"I am sorry to hear that you have had bad tidings," replied Ralph; "I hope they are not of a very serious character."
"Family matters--family matters," answered Gaunt Stilling, walking twice up and down the room. "The old man is ill, and well he may be--a bad complaint, sir--a broken heart."
"I have just been pondering, Stilling," said Ralph, "whether it would be better or not for me to return to England at once. My cousin, Lord Coldenham, urges me strongly to do so, and if I do, we can go together."
"Let me go first, sir," said Gaunt Stilling, quickly and eagerly. "You shall soon hear more from me or of me--more than all the rest have told you, I'll answer for it. As for myself, I must go, and this very day. See what there is written to me;" and he put in Ralph's hand a letter containing the following few words:
"Come back instantly. You are wanted here at once, for the great work which must be done at length. I have refrained too long. I will hesitate no longer. Moraber."
"This is strange," said Ralph, returning the letter.
"Not so strange as some tidings in this letter, sir," said Gaunt Stilling, striking lightly the other he held in his hand. "However, before I go, let me ask you one question, sir, which is of more importance than you may think. I am very bold; but you will pardon me. Are you to be married, as men say, to Lady Danvers?"
"Not the most remote chance of it," replied Ralph. "Have you too, Stilling, been deceived by appearances, the deceitfulness of which none could judge better? Neither Lady Danvers nor myself ever dreamed of such a thing. She knows my heart too well, Stilling."
"Thank you, sir--thank you," said Gaunt Stilling, warmly; "and now good-by."
"But is there such great haste?" said Ralph; "I would fain have an hour or two's time for consideration as to whether I had better accompany you or not."
"Better stay where you are, sir," replied Stilling, "for the present, at least. I would not stop one hour after having received this letter for more than King James could give. I owe this man, sir, a deep debt of gratitude, which must be paid in whatever way he chooses."
"Besides," added Ralph, "I am deeply your debtor, Stilling, and I would fain do something, however little is in my power."
"Never mind that, sir," said Stilling, slowly inclining his head with a very significant gesture; "all debts, to me and from me, will soon be paid. Fare you well, sir; may God speed you better when I have gone from you than you have sped while I have been with you;" and, without further leave-taking, he turned and quitted the room.
There was something very remarkable in his manner, a sort of sharp, wild abruptness, which, in all the variations of his mood, and they had been many, Ralph had never remarked before. He mused over the matter for a moment or two, but we are too apt to look upon the signs of suppressed passion in others as matters of no moment, not seeming to comprehend that where emotion is so strong as to carry with it a sense of the necessity of concealing it, the very temporary resistance with which it meets only seems to concentrate its power, and it bursts forth at length in act because it was denied expression in words.
After thinking over the character and conduct of Gaunt Stilling for a few minutes in silence, Ralph dismissed the subject from his mind, and returned to other thoughts. He wrote to his father, to Hortensia, and to Margaret, without much hope, indeed, of finding an opportunity to forward the letter to her in safety and with secrecy. He wrote, too, to Lord Woodhall, repeating his assurance that he had never drawn his sword against his cousin Henry, and buoying himself up with false and flattering hopes that Margaret might still be his. To Hortensia and his father, he judged it necessary, from the ambiguous expression in their letters, to give a detailed account of his escape, as far as it could be done without committing any of the persons engaged in it, and assuring them both that he had never heard of the pardon till the morning on which he wrote. Lord Coldenham's letter he reserved for further consideration; and a gleam of peaceful hope seemed to break upon him once more, after so many had passed away, overshadowed as soon as seen.