* * * * *
'Three days had passed by, and Bessie, Henrietta, and I still kept our secret. I thought them rather pleasant days myself, for I was extremely proud of the important piece of knowledge which Madame St. Aubert had been involuntarily obliged to leave in my keeping. But I do not know that the two others wholly shared this opinion. Certainly Henrietta did not. She looked more and more grave and oppressed, and never spoke of the subject to either of us; while Bessie was in such a fever of expectation that it was all she could do to keep up her self-command before the other girls. Whenever we could manage it, she and I used to get alone together, and talk about the only subject that now had any interest for us. When should we hear the news of Monmouth's landing? would he be likely to march near Taunton? and would Bessie's uncle, Sir Geoffrey Davenant, take up arms in his behalf? These were the questions which we asked ourselves at least a dozen times a day; and I drank in Bessie's doctrines without a thought of disputing them, till I was becoming heart and soul as rebellious a little subject of King James as she was herself. I should probably have found it much harder to keep my lips sealed to the rest of the household, if there had been no Bessie with whom to chatter freely about the secret; and I have no doubt I was equally useful to her in enabling her to give a vent to her feelings.
'We two had always been friends from that first dismal winter's night when I first arrived at Madame St. Aubert's, a tearful, disconsolate little bride, tired out with the long, cold journey, and most unhappy at leaving—not the husband whom I had known for a day, but home, mamma, and my brothers; not to mention all the animals, that I cared for only next to them. Yes, that was a very miserable night to me; and I must confess that what added a sharp sting to my grief was the feeling of intense mortification at having to come down from the dignified position which I had held of late and so thoroughly enjoyed. A few days ago I was the most important person in the house,—treated with all the honour and attention due to a bride, and almost as if I were a woman; and now, here I was, only a little girl again, at school among strangers, and conscious of being younger and smaller than most of my companions, and not equal to any of them in good manners and accomplishments. How kind Bessie was to me that night! It was her bright winning manner and good-natured words that first began to set me at ease; and during my early school-days, whenever a home-sick fit of crying came over me, I always went to Bessie to be petted and comforted. That intense home-sickness had been over now for a long time. To be sure, I looked forward eagerly to the next Christmas, when I was to be at Horsemandown once more; but I had grown used to the routine of Madame St. Aubert's house by this time, and found myself much happier at school than I could once have imagined possible. Mrs. Fortescue was sharp and severe, sometimes, it is true; but Madame St. Aubert was, in general, remarkably kind to her pupils,—far more gentle and indulgent than most governesses of those days were wont to be. I did not dislike the studies either; though I must say we were somewhat hardly worked, and spent a great deal more time over them than would be considered wholesome in a schoolroom of the present time,—in the Horsemandown schoolroom, at all events. The learning to dance, to speak French, and to play upon the harp and virginals, was what I liked best; and I soon began to get on very well in those accomplishments—especially the music and dancing—and to discover that Agnes Blount's skill in them might not be so hopelessly beyond my reach, after all. My schoolfellows, too, I liked very much on the whole; and I think that on their part they had rather a respect for me—especially those of my own age—on account of my being, child as I was, already a wife, and wife to the Earl of Desmond. It seemed strange, even then, that among the pupils should be numbered a bride, and that she should be one of the youngest of all; but still not half so strange as if it were nowadays; for, according to a very common custom in those times, several of the girls were betrothed, and one or two of them had been so from babyhood. Well, but to continue my story. For three days, as I said, we had kept our secret. The excitement of the girls about Madame's "mystery," as they chose to call it, was beginning to go off. In fact it was fast fading away, in the interest of a scheme, started by Pauline, for getting up a little French masque, to be acted on her mother's birthday, or, as Pauline called it, her "fête." One morning, however, it happened that, although when Madame St. Aubert's fourteen young ladies sat down to breakfast the projected masque was uppermost in the minds of eleven of them, yet before their basins of milk were empty it had gone out of their heads altogether; and this was the reason: "Dr. Power begs permission to wait upon you, Madame," was a message that made every one look up in surprise. Half-past six was so very early for Dr. Power, who was celebrated for his late rising. Madame St. Aubert rose hurriedly from her chair, but before she could leave the table the Doctor himself peered in at the open door.
'"Too anxious to announce my news to await your summons, Madame," said he, with an apologetic bow so profound that his flowing wig almost swept the floor. "Ladies, you must pardon me for this intrusion; but when I tell you that the Duke of Monmouth has landed at Lyme——"
'"Landed at Lyme!" cried Madame St. Aubert, exultingly echoed by Mrs. Fortescue and Bessie.
'"The Duke of Monmouth!" repeated Pauline in tones of astonishment, while the young ladies all put down their spoons and opened their eyes; and murmurs of "Oh!" "Who?" "Where?" "What for?" ran round the table.
"Yes, landed yesterday morning at Lyme," Dr. Power proceeded, after a loud and violent fit of coughing, which seemed much to exasperate Bessie. "I only heard the news this morning. They say he was at the head of more than a thousand men last night, and by this time, I warrant me, all Dorsetshire and Devonshire will have joined him. It was Dare who sent me word. He left this place at two o'clock this morning, with a troop of forty horsemen behind him; thanks to your liberality, Madame." (Here Bessie glanced at me significantly.) "'Tis only a handful, to be sure," continued Dr. Power, "but he'll pick up more on the road. There's a piece of news for you, young ladies!" he rattled on, rubbing his hands and nodding triumphantly; "and a piece of news for King James too (not that he will be king much longer). Ah, I should like to know what he thinks of the business!"
'"Well, but, Dr. Power," cried Madame at last impatiently, for she had already made two vain attempts to strike in, and would not have managed to do so now had not Dr. Power's breath at last given way altogether,—"tell us some more details. How was he received in the place? Was there no opposition made to his landing?"
'"Opposition? None whatever. He was received most enthusiastically. The whole town was ringing with shouts of 'A Monmouth! A Monmouth! God save Monmouth and the Protestant religion!' Then up went his blue flag in the market-place, and his Declaration was read from the town-cross."
'At this point Bessie could not resist clapping her hands, and was even heard to utter a smothered "Hurrah."