Woodstock or The Cavalier Part 38

"I shall remember what you say, sir, should an opportunity occur," said the King; "and I wish his Majesty had many such subjects-I presume our business is now settled?"

"When you shall have been pleased, sir, to give me a trifling sc.r.a.p of writing, to serve for my credentials-for such, you know, is the custom-your written cartel hath its written answer."

"That, sir, will I presently do," said Charles, "and in good time, here are the materials."

"And, sir," continued the envoy-"Ah!-ahem!-if you have interest in the household for a cup of sack-I am a man of few words, and am somewhat hoa.r.s.e with much speaking-moreover, a serious business of this kind always makes one thirsty.-Besides, sir, to part with dry lips argues malice, which G.o.d forbid should exist in such an honourable conjuncture."

"I do not boast much influence in the house, sir," said the King; "but if you would have the condescension to accept of this broad piece towards quenching your thirst at the George"-

"Sir," said the cavalier, (for the times admitted of this strange species of courtesy, nor was Wildrake a man of such peculiar delicacy as keenly to dispute the matter,)-"I am once again beholden to you. But I see not how it consists with my honour to accept of such accommodation, unless you were to accompany and partake?"

"Pardon me, sir," replied Charles, "my safety recommends that I remain rather private at present."

"Enough said," Wildrake observed; "poor cavaliers must not stand on ceremony. I see, sir, you understand cutter's law-when one tall fellow has coin, another must not be thirsty. I wish you, sir, a continuance of health and happiness until to-morrow, at the King's Oak, at six o'clock."

"Farewell, sir," said the King, and added, as Wildrake went down the stair whistling, "Hey for cavaliers," to which air his long rapier, jarring against the steps and banisters, bore no unsuitable burden- "Farewell, thou too just emblem of the state, to which war, and defeat, and despair, have reduced many a gallant gentleman."

During the rest of the day, there occurred nothing peculiarly deserving of notice. Alice sedulously avoided showing towards the disguised Prince any degree of estrangement or shyness, which could be discovered by her father, or by any one else. To all appearance, the two young persons continued on the same footing in every respect. Yet she made the gallant himself sensible, that this apparent intimacy was a.s.sumed merely to save appearances, and in no way designed as retracting from the severity with which she had rejected his suit. The sense that this was the case, joined to his injured self-love, and his enmity against a successful rival, induced Charles early to withdraw himself to a solitary walk in the wilderness, where, like Hercules in the Emblem of Cebes, divided betwixt the personifications of Virtue and of Pleasure, he listened alternately to the voice of Wisdom and of pa.s.sionate Folly.

Prudence urged to him the importance of his own life to the future prosecution of the great object in which he had for the present miscarried-the restoration of monarchy in England, the rebuilding of the throne, the regaining the crown of his father, the avenging his death, and restoring to their fortunes and their country the numerous exiles, who were suffering poverty and banishment on account of their attachment to his cause. Pride too, or rather a just and natural sense of dignity, displayed the unworthiness of a Prince descending to actual personal conflict with a subject of any degree, and the ridicule which would be thrown on his memory, should he lose his life for an obscure intrigue by the hand of a private gentleman. What would his sage counsellors, Nicholas and Hyde-what would his kind and wise governor, the Marquis of Hertford, say to such an act of rashness and folly? Would it not be likely to shake the allegiance of the staid and prudent persons of the royalist party, since wherefore should they expose their lives and estates to raise to the government of a kingdom a young man who could not command his own temper? To this was to be added, the consideration that even his success would add double difficulties to his escape, which already seemed sufficiently precarious. If, stopping short of death, he merely had the better of his antagonist, how did he know that he might not seek revenge by delivering up to government the malignant Louis Kerneguy, whose real character could not in that case fail to be discovered?

These considerations strongly recommended to Charles that he should clear himself of the challenge without fighting; and the reservation under which he had accepted it, afforded him some opportunity of doing so.

But Pa.s.sion also had her arguments, which she addressed to a temper rendered irritable by recent distress and mortification. In the first place, if he was a prince, he was also a gentleman, ent.i.tled to resent as such, and obliged to give or claim the satisfaction expected on occasion of differences among gentlemen. With Englishmen, she urged, he could never lose interest by showing himself ready, instead of sheltering himself under his royal birth and pretensions, to come frankly forward and maintain what he had done or said on his own responsibility. In a free nation, it seemed as if he would rather gain than lose in the public estimation by a conduct which could not but seem gallant and generous. Then a character for courage was far more necessary to support his pretensions than any other kind of reputation; and the lying under a challenge, without replying to it, might bring his spirit into question. What would Villiers and Wilmot say of an intrigue, in which he had allowed himself to be shamefully baffled by a country girl, and had failed to revenge himself on his rival? The pasquinades which they would compose, the witty sarcasms which they would circulate on the occasion, would be harder to endure than the grave rebukes of Hertford, Hyde, and Nicholas. This reflection, added to the stings of youthful and awakened courage, at length fixed his resolution, and he returned to Woodstock determined to keep his appointment, come of it what might.

Perhaps there mingled with his resolution a secret belief that such a rencontre would not prove fatal. He was in the flower of his youth, active in all his exercises, and no way inferior to Colonel Everard, as far as the morning's experiment had gone, in that of self-defence. At least, such recollection might pa.s.s through his royal mind, as he hummed to himself a well-known ditty, which he had picked up during his residence in Scotland-

"A man may drink and not be drunk; A man may fight and not be slain; A man may kiss a bonnie la.s.s, And yet be welcome back again."

Meanwhile the busy and all-directing Dr. Rochecliffe had contrived to intimate to Alice that she must give him a private audience, and she found him by appointment in what was called the study, once filled with ancient books, which, long since converted into cartridges, had made more noise in the world at their final exit, than during the s.p.a.ce which had intervened betwixt that and their first publication. The Doctor seated himself in a high-backed leathern easy-chair, and signed to Alice to fetch a stool and sit down beside him.

"Alice," said the old man, taking her hand affectionately, "thou art a good girl, a wise girl, a virtuous girl, one of those whose price is above rubies-not that rubies is the proper translation-but remind me to tell you of that another time. Alice, thou knowest who this Louis Kerneguy is-nay, hesitate not to me-I know every thing-I am well aware of the whole matter. Thou knowest this honoured house holds the Fortunes of England." Alice was about to answer. "Nay, speak not, but listen to me, Alice-How does he bear himself towards you?"

Alice coloured with the deepest crimson. "I am a country-bred girl," she said, "and his manners are too courtlike for me."

"Enough said-I know it all. Alice, he is exposed to a great danger to-morrow, and you must be the happy means to prevent him."

"I prevent him!-how, and in what manner?" said Alice, in surprise. "It is my duty, as a subject, to do anything-anything that may become my father's daughter"-

Here she stopped, considerably embarra.s.sed.

"Yes," continued the Doctor, "to-morrow he hath made an appointment-an appointment with Markham Everard; the hour and place are set-six in the morning, by the King's Oak. If they meet, one will probably fall."

"Now, may G.o.d forefend they should meet," said Alice, turning as suddenly pale as she had previously reddened. "But harm cannot come of it; Everard will never lift his sword against the King."

"For that," said Dr. Rochecliffe, "I would not warrant. But if that unhappy young gentleman shall have still some reserve of the loyalty which his general conduct entirely disavows, it would not serve us here; for he knows not the King, but considers him merely as a cavalier, from whom he has received injury."

"Let him know the truth, Doctor Rochecliffe, let him know it instantly," said Alice; "he lift hand against the King, a fugitive and defenceless! He is incapable of it. My life on the issue, he becomes most active in his preservation."

"That is the thought of a maiden, Alice," answered the Doctor; "and, as I fear, of a maiden whose wisdom is misled by her affections. It were worse than treason to admit a rebel officer, the friend of the arch-traitor Cromwell, into so great a secret. I dare not answer for such rashness. Hammond was trusted by his father, and you know what came of it."

"Then let my father know. He will meet Markham, or send to him, representing the indignity done to him by attacking his guest."

"We dare not let your father into the secret who Louis Kerneguy really is. I did but hint the possibility of Charles taking refuge at Woodstock, and the rapture into which Sir Henry broke out, the preparations for accommodation and the defence which he began to talk of, plainly showed that the mere enthusiasm of his loyalty would have led to a risk of discovery. It is you, Alice, who must save the hopes of every true royalist."

"I!" answered Alice; "it is impossible.-Why cannot my father be induced to interfere, as in behalf of his friend and guest, though he know him as no other than Louis Kerneguy?"

"You have forgot your father's character, my young friend," said the Doctor; "an excellent man, and the best of Christians, till there is a clashing of swords, and then he starts up the complete martialist, as deaf to every pacific reasoning as if he were a game-c.o.c.k."

"You forget, Doctor Rochecliffe," said Alice, "that this very morning, if I understand the thing aright, my father prevented them from fighting."

"Ay," answered the Doctor, "because he deemed himself bound to keep the peace in the Royal-Park; but it was done with such regret, Alice, that, should he find them at it again, I am clear to foretell he will only so far postpone the combat as to conduct them to some unprivileged ground, and there bid them tilt and welcome, while he regaled his eyes with a scene so pleasing. No, Alice, it is you, and you only, who can help us in this extremity."

"I see no possibility," said she, again colouring, "how I can be of the least use."

"You must send a note," answered Dr. Rochecliffe, "to the King-a note such as all women know how to write better than any man can teach them-to meet you at the precise hour of the rendezvous. He will not fail you, for I know his unhappy foible."

"Doctor Rochecliffe," said Alice gravely,-"you have known me from infancy,-What have you seen in me to induce you to believe that I should ever follow such unbecoming counsel?"

"And if you have known me from infancy," retorted the Doctor, "what have you seen of me that you should suspect me of giving counsel to my friend's daughter, which it would be misbecoming in her to follow? You cannot be fool enough, I think, to suppose, that I mean you should carry your complaisance farther than to keep him in discourse for an hour or two, till I have all in readiness for his leaving this place, from which I can frighten him by the terrors of an alleged search?-So, C. S. mounts his horse and rides off, and Mistress Alice Lee has the honour of saving him."

"Yes, at the expense of my own reputation," said Alice, "and the risk of an eternal stain on my family. You say you know all. What can the King think of my appointing an a.s.signation with him after what has pa.s.sed, and how will it be possible to disabuse him respecting the purpose of my doing so?"

"I will disabuse him, Alice; I will explain the whole."

"Doctor Rochecliffe," said Alice, "you propose what is impossible. You can do much by your ready wit and great wisdom; but if new-fallen snow were once sullied, not all your art could wash it clean again; and it is altogether the same with a maiden's reputation."

"Alice, my dearest child," said the Doctor, "bethink you that if I recommended this means of saving the life of the King, at least rescuing him from instant peril, it is because I see no other of which to avail myself. If I bid you a.s.sume, even for a moment, the semblance of what is wrong, it is but in the last extremity, and under circ.u.mstances which cannot return-I will take the surest means to prevent all evil report which can arise from what I recommend."

"Say not so, Doctor," said Alice; "better undertake to turn back the Isis than to stop the course of calumny. The King will make boast to his whole licentious court, of the ease with which, but for a sudden alarm, he could have brought off Alice Lee as a paramour-the mouth which confers honour on others, will then be the means to deprive me of mine. Take a fitter course, one more becoming your own character and profession. Do not lead him to fail in an engagement of honour, by holding out the prospect of another engagement equally dishonourable, whether false or true. Go to the King himself, speak to him, as the servants of G.o.d have a right to speak, even to earthly sovereigns. Point out to him the folly and the wickedness of the course he is about to pursue-urge upon him, that he fear the sword, since wrath bringeth the punishment of the sword. Tell him, that the friends who died for him in the field at Worcester, on the scaffolds, and on the gibbets, since that b.l.o.o.d.y day-that the remnant who are in prison, scattered, fled, and ruined on his account, deserve better of him and his father's race, than that he should throw away his life in an idle brawl-Tell him, that it is dishonest to venture that which is not his own, dishonourable to betray the trust which brave men have reposed in his virtue and in his courage."

Dr. Rochecliffe looked on her with a melancholy smile, his eyes glistening as he said, "Alas! Alice, even I could not plead that just cause to him so eloquently or so impressively as thou dost. But, alack! Charles would listen to neither. It is not from priests or women, he would say, that men should receive counsel in affairs of honour."

"Then, hear me, Doctor Rochecliffe-I will appear at the place of rendezvous, and I will prevent the combat-do not fear that I can do what I say-at a sacrifice, indeed, but not that of my reputation. My heart may be broken"-she endeavoured to stifle her sobs with difficulty-"for the consequence; but not in the imagination of a man, and far less that man her sovereign, shall a thought of Alice Lee be a.s.sociated with dishonour." She hid her face in her handkerchief, and burst out into unrestrained tears.

"What means this hysterical pa.s.sion?" said Dr. Rochecliffe, surprised and somewhat alarmed by the vehemence of her grief-"Maiden, I must have no concealments; I must know."

"Exert your ingenuity, then, and discover it," said Alice-for a moment put out of temper at the Doctor's pertinacious self-importance-"Guess my purpose, as you can guess at every thing else. It is enough to have to go through my task, I will not endure the distress of telling it over, and that to one who-forgive me, dear Doctor-might not think my agitation on this occasion fully warranted."

"Nay, then, my young mistress, you must be ruled," said Rochecliffe; "and if I cannot make you explain yourself, I must see whether your father can gain so far on you." So saying, he arose somewhat displeased, and walked towards the door.

"You forget what you yourself told me, Doctor Rochecliffe," said Alice, "of the risk of communicating this great secret to my father."

"It is too true," he said, stopping short and turning round; "and I think, wench, thou art too smart for me, and I have not met many such. But thou art a good girl, and wilt tell me thy device of free-will-it concerns my character and influence with the King, that I should be fully acquainted with whatever is actum atque tractatum, done and treated of in this matter."

"Trust your character to me, good Doctor," said Alice, attempting to smile; "it is of firmer stuff than those of women, and will be safer in my custody than mine could have been in yours. And thus much I condescend-you shall see the whole scene-you shall go with me yourself, and much will I feel emboldened and heartened by your company."

"That is something," said the Doctor, though not altogether satisfied with this limited confidence. "Thou wert ever a clever wench, and I will trust thee; indeed, trust thee I find I must, whether voluntarily or no."