CHAPTER VI.
In a house remote from the one in which King Charles experienced his last adventure with the pretended astrologer, he sat again, disguised in the undress uniform of a naval officer, with his arm encircling the neat waist of a remarkably pretty girl.
She affected to allow this liberty reluctantly, yet there was that in her large black eyes and mischief-loving countenance which contradicted the attempted coyness she at first evinced.
"So, they call thee Margaret?" said the king, as he leaned his face against her curls.
"Yes, Master Stuart."
"And thou art poor, Margaret?"
"Alas! yes," she replied, "my father was once a royalist officer, and rich; but the civil wars and his sacrifices for his king left him penniless and friendless."
"It has been the fate of many besides him," the monarch observed. "Those same wars were, at one time, the ruin of my own family. But thou, Margaret, shalt be poor no longer. Thou shalt leave this home of penury with me, and I will make thee rich."
"Nay, sir," she said, as he attempted to kiss her, "be not so tender with your kindness. I fear already thy sympathy and its motive."
"Fear nothing from me, pretty one," said Charles, clasping her closely to him.
"Why are we here alone?" she asked, seeming to realize, and be startled at the idea, for the first time; "where is the friend who introduced you—where is Master Granby?"
"He will be here anon, pretty Margaret," replied the king, "his own affairs have called him hence for a time. Heed him not, though, my sweet trembler, my Peri of perfection, my Houri of Paradise! thou art safe with me, and with me thou shalt hie away to regions where love will smile upon thee, and gold will pour in perpetual showers in thy lap."
The monarch became so inexpressibly tender that the maiden, in her own defence, was compelled to scream. After a moment's lapse an approaching step upon the stairs warned the precipitate lover to defer the prosecution of his suit to a more auspicious occasion. He hastened to the door, but, to his astonishment, found it fastened, and on trying the window, that, too, had been externally cared for.
"De Grammont has betrayed me!" he exclaimed, as he drew a concealed pistol from his belt and prepared to confront the coming danger.
His apprehensions, were, however, groundless, for the only person who entered the room was a tall, athletic looking old woman, in her night dress, wearing a remarkably heavy pair of shoes. She placed her candle upon the table and walked deliberately up to where the young girl was sitting. Seeing her she started back in astonishment.
"Are you here, Margaret?" she exclaimed; "beshrew me, I thought thee asleep two good hours ago, instead of throwing thy company away upon a young man, and a stranger. Away with you, mistress, to your bed! You are unworthy to be called your father's daughter."
"Nay, good dame, be not so hard with pretty Margaret," said Charles, as he saw the young girl leaving the room with her handkerchief to her eyes.
"Out upon thee, sirrah, for a knave!" retorted the old woman; "I'll see directly who thou art, sir jack-a-napes. To thy chamber, Miss, and thank Heaven for thy father's misfortune, which prevented his being here this night."
When the girl had gone, she took up the light, and approaching the king, scrutinized him closely from head to foot.
"Well, mother," he said, as he suffered her to proceed with the examination, "find you aught here to fear?"
She was gazing at the moment at his face, and she started back as she spoke.
"Much, much to fear!" she replied, "for I see here the features of a king! When we find the wolf in the sheepfold we may slay him, but who dare approach the 'lion!'
The king was filled with amazement at being recognised; but without suffering his surprise to be evident, he endeavored to ridicule the assertion.
"True, dame," he remarked, "they call me the king of good fellows; but as for a lion, the comparison is somewhat strained; it would be more apt with a longer-eared animal, for suffering myself to be trapped thus sillily."
The old woman seized his hand, and after pointing to the royal signet, dropped it.
"Charles Stuart, King of England, thou canst not deceive me!"
"Faith," said the king, laughing, "methinks this is another astrologer in petticoats!"
"And is it to his king," exclaimed the old woman, reproachfully, "that the unfortunate Colonel Boynton is indebted for a base attempt upon his daughter's honor, at the very moment when he himself is the tenant of a prison for having, by his loyalty, impoverished himself! Is this the reward for the blood he has shed, and the honorable wounds he has received in fighting your battles, and for hastening to offer you his last penny in a foreign land, even when his own family was persecuted and destitute at home!"
"Colonel Boynton!" cried Charles, as the old woman concluded; "surely not the brave Boynton who served so nobly at Edge Hill, Naseby, and Worcester, and who came to relieve his royal master's wants when he was a wanderer and an outcast among strangers? This cannot be his child, nor can he be living. They told me years since, when I caused inquiry to be made for him, that he was dead."
"He knew not that his king had ever sought for him," the old woman said; "he thought his services and his sacrifices in the past had been willfully forgotten, and his proud spirit scorned to thrust unpleasant recollections upon you."
"Poor Boynton! poor Boynton!" exclaimed Charles, "this has, indeed, been ingratitude to one of the most deserving and faithful of my subjects. Said you, my good woman, that he is now in a prison, and for debt?"
"Ay, my good lord."
"There, there!" said Charles, hastily handing her a weighty purse, "see that he is relieved at once—this night, if it be possible—and bid him in the morning wait upon his king, whose greatest regret is that he has not met with him sooner."
"Will your majesty write your request for him to come to the palace? he may be somewhat skeptical of your royal solicitude."
"Assuredly," replied the king, as he took up a pen from the table and drew a sheet of paper toward him; "and do you also bear him company."
"Add, then, if your majesty pleases, that you desire the bearer also to appear."
The king looked at her an instant, then did as she suggested.
"And now, dame," said he, "relieve me from my durance, and allow me to depart."
She hastily unfastened the door, and the king passed out. "Be sure," said he, as he lingered a moment at the threshold, "that you bring my pretty Margaret with you; her fortunes, too, must be advanced at court."
The old woman, after carefully fastening the door, threw herself into a chair, and gave vent to a hearty burst of laughter.
"There, Nancy, you can come down," exclaimed the familiar voice of Rochester, as the figure of the quondam Margaret appeared again upon the stairs. "Thou art a good girl, and I will make thee a capital actress yet. Old Rowley has again been outwitted!"
CHAPTER VII.
The next morning three strangers—two old men and a young girl—were admitted to the palace of Whitehall, on showing the king's order to that effect, but only one of the men was immediately conducted to the king's presence.
The Count de Grammont, (who had made his peace for his seeming desertion of the previous evening,) Lord Arlington, and Sir Charles Sedly, were with the king when Colonel Boynton was announced.
The old man knelt at the monarch's feet, and taking his hand, kissed it fervently.
"Rise, my gallant old friend, rise!" said Charles, assisting him as he spoke; "it gives us joy to see one so faithful, and so long neglected, once more near our person. Our greatest grief is that so tried a servant, and so brave an officer as Colonel Boynton should have been in adversity and we not know even of his existence; but you shall be cared for, my old friend, and the future shall prove to you that Charles knows how to be grateful to those who have served him when he most needed services."
"Your majesty is over bountiful to one who wronged you by supposing you capable of injustice. For this I crave your royal pardon, and also for another and more heinous offence."
"Thou hast it," replied the king, "even if the offence be treason against ourself."
"It is the offence of having imposed upon my sovereign," exclaimed a voice that made the king start, while Rochester, ridding himself of his disguise, knelt before him.
"By my life, it is Rochester!" cried the king, starting back from the prostrate earl, while every one present, except De Grammont, was filled with amazement at the sudden transformation of Colonel Boynton.
Charles was at first disposed to laugh, but recollecting his outraged dignity, he restrained himself, and addressed his banished courtier in terms of considerable severity.
"This presumption, my Lord Rochester," said he, "ill becomes you; nor can the insult to your king be easily atoned for."
"Pardon me, my liege—" Rochester commenced.
"By what authority," said the king, interrupting him, "have you ventured to intrude yourself upon our presence, contrary to our express commands?"
"Simply by this, my gracious liege," replied the earl, handing the paper he had received the previous evening, and pointing to the word bearer.
"That, sir, was given to another, and a worthier person than the Earl of Rochester."
"I might, your majesty," said Rochester, lowering his voice, and approaching nearer to the king, "defend myself from the insinuation, but I am prevented by a powerful reason, for, when we find the wolf in the sheepfold, we may slay him, but who dare approach the lion."
Charles was astonished at hearing the old woman's words repeated, but the fear of his own exposure somewhat mollified his anger.
"So, then, thou wert thyself in masquerade?" he said; "and with whom hast thou dealt to put this cheat upon me."
"I deal with the stars," replied the earl, assuming as nearly as possible the tone of the astrologer, "and they are unerring guides."
"Odd-fish, my lord," exclaimed Charles, now laughing heartily, "and were you the necromancer, too?"
"And Colonel Boynton, too, my liege; and all for the purpose of inducing your majesty to keep your royal word, which said, 'When Rochester's wit is seductive enough to induce his king, personally, to wait upon him three several times, or to command his presence at court, then he may return.'"
"I think, my lords, I have been fairly caught," said the king, smiling, and speaking to those around him, "and to keep my word inviolate, must permit Rochester's return."
"To prove that I am not ungrateful for your majesty's goodness," observed the earl, "I am prepared to produce the objects of your solicitude—Colonel Boynton and his fair daughter—they wait your royal pleasure."
On the introduction of the venerable colonel and the pretty Margaret, the king whispered to Rochester, "Surely, my lord, this is not the girl I saw last night?"
"No, your majesty," replied the earl, "she was a pupil of my own."
Charles, in a few words, satisfied Colonel Boynton that the neglect of his faithful services had been owing entirely to misapprehension. He gave him at once a position which secured him against future reverses; nor was it long before his interesting daughter found a husband worthy of her choice.
Rochester's Protean exploits afforded amusement to the court for some time. Charles bore the raillery he heard around him philosophically, and good humoredly admitted that he had been completely outwitted.
LOVE THY MOTHER, LITTLE ONE.
BY RICHARD COE, JR.
Love thy mother, little one,
Love her tenderly;
Clasp thy little arms around her,
For a holy tie hath bound her—
Bound her close to thee!
Love thy mother, little one,
Love her tenderly!
Love thy mother, little one,
Love her earnestly;
Gaze into her eyes, and see there—
All that thou couldst hope to be there—
Warmest love for thee!
Love thy mother, little one,
Love her earnestly!
Love thy mother, little one,
Love her fervently;
By thy couch she kneeleth nightly,
And, with hands enclaspéd tightly,
Prayeth, love, for thee!
Love thy mother, little one,
Love her fervently!
Love thy mother, little one,
Love her tenderly;
Clasp thy little arms around her,
For a holy tie hath bound her—
Bound her close to thee!
Love thy mother, little one,
Love her tenderly!