CHAP. VIII.
The morning of the 1st of October, if it were piercing as a flight of arrows, was as dazzling too; for the clearness of the atmosphere gave an unusual splendour to every object: and the larks that carrolled high in the heavens, seemed exulting in the brilliancy of their course. The exhilarating property of the air had its effect upon the party from the Parsonage; who gaily stepped into the boat that was to convey them to a creek on the opposite shore, a little below Bamborough. To touch at the castle was out of the question; for no second flag of amnesty had yet passed between the angry baronet and his quietly expectant nephew.
On landing, they found horses which the Pastor had sent forward at dawn; and mounting, in full confidence of the animals being accustomed to the rough roads in prospect, the happy groupe commenced the day's excursion. Nearly a week's sojourn in the island had blunted most of the Marquis's prejudices against the amiable followers of Luther whom he found there; and the familiar companionship of minds not essentially discordant, had mingled them all into an intimacy almost amounting to friendship.
They proceeded along the classic banks of the Tweed, and the romantic borders of the Till, to the distant towers of royal Norham. Much food was there, for memory and meditation. The friends wandered for several hours amongst its legendary ruins; and then pursued the debateable stream to Flodden Field. They found another train of thought on that solitary track. Two centuries before, it had borne the bannered host of two brother nations; and now lay a desert, as if curst by the kindred blood then spilt upon its soil.
Having treated the Marquis with a rustic dinner at a farm-house in the pretty village of Branxton, which stands a little to the north of the memorable field, Mrs. Coningsby and her highly-gratified party re-embarked at the mouth of the Tweed. Before them lay a magnificent setting sun. As the little bark tracked its way through a flood of molten gold, Ferdinand leaned behind the bench that supported Alice, and in a soft under-tone pursued the subjects which seemed most congenial to her youthful taste. Cornelia reclined near them, contemplating the receding shore, but listening to the Marquis; who sat between Louis and her mother, comparing with them the strange coincidence in the fates of James the Fourth of Scotland, Sebastian of Portugal, and Roderick of Spain; all of whose deaths were as doubtful, as their disappearance was certain, in the fields of battle where each lost his crown and existence to the world.
In these discourses time passed lightly, till the breeze wafted them, under the rising moon, into the sheltered cove of Lindisfarne.
On entering the Parsonage, Mr. Athelstone presented a packet to the Marquis; and its contents put to flight all their ready plans for future rambles. It had been forwarded through Holland by Baron Heinsius, and contained dispatches from Spain. They conveyed the royal Philip's orders to the Marquis Santa Cruz, to repair immediately to Madrid; where he was required to take his seat in the council on an affair of importance.
Ferdinand turned pale at this intelligence.
"Oh, that your Lordship would take me with you!" exclaimed Louis, impetuously. Mr. Athelstone interrupted him with a look. "Pardon me, Sir," cried he, "but my father,—am I never to see my father?" "When he wishes to see you. But you must not break upon his presence."