The House of Egremont

by Molly Elliot Seawell

Dicky was charmed. A dog—an English dog! He had not owned one since he left England. And a dog would go excellently well with his disguise and would be a friend as well. As for Bold himself, there was nothing imposing about him but his name. Dicky concluded that Bold had not been used to the society of gentlemen; all the same, never was dog more gratefully received.

“Thank you, my little man; and here is a shilling for you. I’ll be good to the dog; that you may depend upon.”

The boy looked at the shilling which Dicky put in his hand, and then, appalled at such munificence, fled away without another word.

Dicky whistled to Bold, who came and licked his hand, and the two instantly agreed upon eternal friendship. But as Dicky walked briskly along, richer by a friend and companion, he bethought himself of his behavior and began to see that he had been singularly imprudent, and his escape from detection was due wholly to the ignorance of his audience. First, he should not have played “Les Folies en Espagne.” Then his dancing had comprised some foreign steps which might have instantly aroused suspicion; and he had so far departed from his assumed character that he had given money, instead of asking it. However, a miss was as good as a mile; and like most men of courage, Dicky troubled himself little about dangers as soon as they were past.

A few days of walking brought him into the Devon country. He had not up to that time dared to make known his character as a priest, but once in Devonshire, he was on familiar ground. He knew the few Catholic families in the county, and he had rightly said the Egremonts had friends enough in that county to protect him, Jesuit though he be.

DICKY WHISTLED TO BOLD, WHO CAME AND LICKED HIS HAND

His first stop was at the house of a Catholic gentleman near Exeter. Here he remained for two weeks in hiding, celebrating mass, instructing and baptizing many adult persons. Although there was danger in having it known that he was in England, it got bruited abroad among the well-wishers of King James; and many persons of Jacobite principles, Protestants as well as Catholics, visited him in secret to know how matters were at St. Germains. The prospects of an uprising in England were glowing. The people objected to the clipped money, which the Whig government had forced upon them, and they demanded to know what had become of the vast sums raised by ruinous taxation. Parliament was forced to prove itself. The speaker of the House of Commons, Sir John Trevor, was convicted of having accepted a bribe, and was expelled from the House. The East India Company was found to have spent fifty thousand pounds, of which ten thousand went into the pocket of William of Orange. He had made a grant of five sixths of the county of Denbigh, the ancient domain of the Prince of Wales, to his Dutch favorite Bentinck. The Parliament obliged him to recall the grant. He had given Lady Orkney a good slice of Ireland; that too the rude “parliament men” as William called them, roughly and coarsely compelled him to restore. They would have done worse, had not William wisely prorogued them.

Meanwhile all these things, especially the forcing foreigners to disgorge the estates of English and Irish gentlemen, were full of encouragement to all the friends of the Egremonts. Dicky discovered it was true that Hugo Egremont, alias Stein, had been unable to alienate an acre of Egremont, much as he desired to do so,—and he was so generally hated and despised in the county, it was said, that he was applying for a permanent foreign appointment; he stood in great favor with the court party.

There was very great activity among the Jacobites assembled in London, and it was desired by the friends of King James in Devonshire to communicate with them. Who so well fitted as this young Egremont, who was quite unknown outside his native county?