A Jacobite Exile - G. A. Henty (free reads TXT) 📗

and the Whigs are out of favour, Marlborough could, if he chose, do very much for us. It is no longer a crime to be a Jacobite, and indeed, they say that the Tories are intending to upset the act of succession, and bring in a fresh one, making James Stuart the successor to Anne.

"Still, even if we had succeeded so far, by Marlborough's influence, that our fathers could have returned to England without fear of being tried for their lives, I do not think that either of them would have come, so long as the charge of having been concerned in an assassination plot was hanging over them.

"Now that they are cleared, and can come back with honour, it will be different, altogether. It will be glorious news for them. Of course, we shall start as soon as we get the official communication that the estates are restored. We shall only have to go back to them, for, as you know, yours is the only estate that has been granted to anyone else. The others were put up for sale, but no one would bid for them, as the title deeds would have been worth nothing if King James came over. So they have only been let to farmers, and we can walk straight in again, without dispossessing anyone."

"I don't know what to do about John Dormay," Charlie said. "There is no doubt that, from what the judge said, they will prosecute him."

"So they ought to," Harry broke in. "He has striven, by false swearing, to bring innocent men to the scaffold. Why, it is worse than murder."

"I quite agree with you, Harry, and, if I were in your place, I would say just as strongly as you do that he ought to be hung. But you see, I am differently situated. The man is a kinsman of ours by marriage. My cousin Celia has been always most kind to me, and is my nearest relative after my father. She has been like an aunt, and, indeed, did all she could to supply the place of a mother to me; and I am sure my little sweetheart Ciceley has been like a sister. This must have been a most terrible trial to them. It was a bad day for cousin Celia when she married that scoundrel, and I am sure that he has made her life a most unhappy one. Still, for their sake, I would not see his villainy punished as it deserves, nor indeed for our own, since the man is, to a certain extent, our kinsman.

"Besides, Harry, as you must remember well enough, Ciceley and I, in boy and girl fashion, used to say we should be some day husband and wife, and I have never since seen anyone whom I would so soon marry as my bonny little cousin; and if Ciceley is of the same mind, maybe some day or other she may come to Lynnwood as its mistress; but that could hardly be, if her father were hung for attempting to swear away the life of mine."

"No, indeed, Charlie. I know how fond you were of your cousin."

"Indeed, Harry, there was a talk between my father and cousin Celia, a few months before the troubles came, of a formal betrothal between us, and, had it not been for the coolness between our fathers, it would have taken place."

"Yes, I remember now your telling me about it, Charlie.

"Well, what is to be done? for I agree with you that, if possible, John Dormay must escape from the punishment he deserves. But how is it to be done?"

"Well, Harry, a week or two will make no difference to our fathers. They will have no expectation of hearing from us, for a long time to come. I should say it were best that I should go down and warn him, and I shall be glad if you will go with me."

"Of course I will go," Harry said. "Indeed, it were best that the warning came from me. The man is a villain, and a reckless one; and in his passion, when he hears that his rascality is known, the prize for which he schemed snatched from him, and his very life in danger, might even seek to vent his rage and spite upon you. Now it is clear, Charlie, that you could not very well kill a man, and afterwards marry his daughter. The thing would be scarce seemly. But the fellow is no kinsman of mine. He has grievously injured us, and I could kill him without the smallest compunction, and thereby rid the world of a scoundrel, and you of a prospective father-in-law of the most objectionable kind."

Charlie laughed.

"No, Harry; we will have no killing. We will go down and see him together. We will let him know that the orders are probably already on the road for his arrest, and that he had best lose not an hour, but at once cross the water. I should not think that he would wish to encumber himself with women, for I never thought he showed the least affection to either his wife or daughter. At any rate, we will see that he does not take them with him. I will tell him that, if he goes, and goes alone, I will do my best to hush up the matter; and that, so long as he remains abroad, the tale of his villainy shall never be told; but that, if he returns, the confession of Nicholson shall be published throughout the country, even if no prosecution is brought against him."

When they called upon the duke, he shook them warmly by the hand.

"This parchment is the royal assent to the decision of the council, that the estates of those inculpated in the alleged plot for the assassination of the late king should be forthwith restored to them, it having been clearly proved that they have been falsely accused of the said crime, and that her majesty is satisfied that these gentlemen are her true and loyal subjects.

"I think I may say," the duke continued with a smile, "that no affair of state has ever been so promptly conducted and carried through."

"We feel how deeply indebted we are, for our good fortune, to your kindness, your grace," Charlie said. "We know that, but for you, months might have elapsed, even years, before we could have obtained such a result, even after we had the confession of Nicholson in our hands."

"I am glad, in every way, to have been able to bring this about," the duke said. "In the first place, because I have been able to right a villainous piece of injustice; in the second, because those injured were loyal gentlemen, with no fault save their steadfast adherence to the cause of the Stuarts; and lastly, because one of these gentlemen was my own good friend, Mat Jervoise, of whose company I have so many pleasant recollections.

"I hope that, as soon as you have informed your fathers that their names are cleared, and their property restored, you will think of what I said, and will decide to quit the service of Sweden, and enter that of your queen.

"An officer fighting for a foreign monarch is, after all, but a soldier of fortune, however valiantly he fights. He is fighting for a cause that is not his own, and, though he may win rewards and honours, he has not the satisfaction that all must feel who have risked their lives, not for gold, but in the service of their country. But I do not want any answer from you on that head now. It is a matter for you to decide upon after due thought. I only say that I shall go out, early in the spring, to take command of the army; and that, if you present yourselves to me before I leave, I shall be glad to appoint you on my personal staff, with the same rank you now hold.

"You can now leave the country without any farther trouble. As to the affair of the man Dormay, a messenger has been sent off, this afternoon, with an order to the magistrates at Lancaster, to arrest him on the charge of suborning false evidence, by which the lives of some of her majesty's subjects were endangered; and of forging letters whereby such evil designs might be furthered. I do not suppose I shall see you again before you sail, for tomorrow we go down to our country place, and may remain there some weeks. I may say that it was the desire to get your affair finished, before we left town, that conduced somewhat to the speed with which it has been carried through."

After again thanking the duke most warmly for his kindness, and saying that they would lay his offer before their fathers, and that their own inclinations were altogether in favour of accepting it, the young men took their leave.

"It is unfortunate about Dormay."

"Most unfortunate," Harry said.

"I think, if we start tomorrow morning, Harry, we shall be in time. There is no reason why the messenger should travel at any extraordinary speed, and, as he may be detained at Lancaster, and some delay may arise before officers are sent up to Lynnwood to make the arrest, we may be in time.

"We must take a note of the date. It is one we shall remember all our lives. It is the 25th of November, and we will keep it up as a day of festivity and rejoicing, as long as we live."

"That will we," Harry agreed. "It shall be the occasion of an annual gathering of those who got into trouble from those suppers at Sir Marmaduke's. I fancy the others are all in France, but their friends will surely be able to let them know, as soon as they hear the good news.

"I think we shall have a stormy ride tomorrow. The sky looks very wild and threatening."

"It does, indeed; and the wind has got up very much, in the last hour.''

"Yes, we are going to have a storm, beyond all doubt."

The wind got up hourly, and when, before going to bed, they went to pass an hour at a tavern, they had difficulty in making their way against it. Several times in the night they were awoke by the gusts, which shook the whole house, and they heard the crashing of falling chimney pots above the din of the gale.

They had arranged to start as soon as it was light, and had, the evening before, been to a posting inn, and engaged a carriage with four horses for the journey down to Lancashire.

"There is no starting today, gentlemen," the landlord said, as they went down to breakfast by candlelight. "I have looked out, and the street is strewn with chimney pots and tiles. Never do I remember such a gale, and hour by hour it seems to get worse. Why, it is dangerous to go across the street."

"Well, we must try," Charlie said, "whatever the weather. It is a matter of almost life and death."

"Well, gentlemen, you must please yourselves, but I am mistaken if any horse keeper will let his animals out, on such a day as this."

As soon as they had eaten their breakfasts, they wrapped themselves up in their cloaks, pressed their hats over their heads, and sallied out. It was not until they were in the streets that they realized how great was the force of the gale. Not only were the streets strewn with tiles and fragments of chimney pots, but there was light enough for them to see that many of the upper windows of the houses had been blown in by the force of the wind. Tiles flew about like leaves in autumn, and occasionally gutters and sheets of lead, stripped from the roofs, flew along with prodigious swiftness.

"This is as bad as a pitched battle, Charlie. I would as lief be struck by a cannonball as by