A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W X Z

Woodstock; or, The Cavalier

S >> Sir Walter Scott >> Woodstock; or, The Cavalier




But though this was cheering, the Doctor had more unpleasant tidings
from the sea-coast, alleging great difficulties in securing a vessel, to
which it might be fit to commit a charge so precious; and, above all,
requesting his Majesty might on no account venture to approach the
shore, until he should receive advice that all the previous arrangements
had been completely settled.

No one was able to suggest a safer place of residence than that which he
at present occupied. Colonel Everard was deemed certainly not personally
unfriendly to the King; and Cromwell, as was supposed, reposed in
Everard an unbounded confidence. The interior presented numberless
hiding-places, and secret modes of exit, known to no one but the ancient
residents of the Lodge--nay, far better to Rochecliffe than to any of
them; as, when Rector at the neighbouring town, his prying disposition
as an antiquary had induced him to make very many researches among the
old ruins--the results of which he was believed, in some instances, to
have kept to himself.

To balance these conveniences, it was no doubt true, that the
Parliamentary Commissioners were still at no great distance, and would
be ready to resume their authority upon the first opportunity. But no
one supposed such an opportunity was likely to occur; and all believed,
as the influence of Cromwell and the army grew more and more
predominant, that the disappointed Commissioners would attempt nothing
in contradiction to his pleasure, but wait with patience an
indemnification in some other quarter for their vacated commissions.
Report, through the voice of Master Joseph Tomkins, stated, that they
had determined, in the first place, to retire to Oxford, and were making
preparations accordingly. This promised still farther to insure the
security of Woodstock. It was therefore settled, that the King, under
the character of Louis Kerneguy, should remain an inmate of the Lodge,
until a vessel should be procured for his escape, at the port which
might be esteemed the safest and most convenient.

* * * * *

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH.


The deadliest snakes are those which, twined 'mongst flowers,
Blend their bright colouring with the varied blossoms,
Their fierce eyes glittering like the spangled dew-drop;
In all so like what nature has most harmless,
That sportive innocence, which dreads no danger,
Is poison'd unawares.

OLD PLAY.

Charles (we must now give him his own name) was easily reconciled to the
circumstances which rendered his residence at Woodstock advisable. No
doubt he would much rather have secured his safety by making an
immediate escape out of England; but he had been condemned already to
many uncomfortable lurking-places, and more disagreeable disguises, as
well as to long and difficult journeys, during which, between
pragmatical officers of justice belonging to the prevailing party, and
parties of soldiers whose officers usually took on them to act on their
own warrant, risk of discovery had more than once become very imminent.
He was glad, therefore, of comparative repose, and of comparative
safety.

Then it must be considered, that Charles had been entirely reconciled to
the society at Woodstock since he had become better acquainted with it.
He had seen, that, to interest the beautiful Alice, and procure a great
deal of her company, nothing more was necessary than to submit to the
humours, and cultivate the intimacy, of the old cavalier her father. A
few bouts at fencing, in which Charles took care not to put out his more
perfect skill, and full youthful strength and activity--the endurance of
a few scenes from Shakspeare, which the knight read with more zeal than
taste--a little skill in music, in which the old man had been a
proficient--the deference paid to a few old-fashioned opinions, at which
Charles laughed in his sleeve--were all-sufficient to gain for the
disguised Prince an interest in Sir Henry Lee, and to conciliate in an
equal degree the good-will of his lovely daughter.

Never were there two young persons who could be said to commence this
species of intimacy with such unequal advantages. Charles was a
libertine, who, if he did not in cold blood resolve upon prosecuting his
passion for Alice to a dishonourable conclusion, was at every moment
liable to be provoked to attempt the strength of a virtue, in which he
was no believer. Then Alice, on her part, hardly knew even what was
implied by the word libertine or seducer. Her mother had died early in
the commencement of the Civil War, and she had been bred up chiefly with
her brother and cousin; so that she had an unfearing and unsuspicious
frankness of manner, upon which Charles was not unwilling or unlikely to
put a construction favourable to his own views. Even Alice's love for
her cousin--the first sensation which awakens the most innocent and
simple mind to feelings of shyness and restraint towards the male sex in
general--had failed to excite such an alarm in her bosom. They were
nearly related; and Everard, though young, was several years her elder,
and had, from her infancy, been an object of her respect as well as of
her affection. When this early and childish intimacy ripened into
youthful love, confessed and returned, still it differed in some shades
from the passion existing between lovers originally strangers to each
other, until their affections have been united in the ordinary course of
courtship. Their love was fonder, more familiar, more perfectly
confidential; purer too, perhaps, and more free from starts of
passionate violence, or apprehensive jealousy.

The possibility that any one could have attempted to rival Everard in
her affection, was a circumstance which never occurred to Alice; and
that this singular Scottish lad, whom she laughed with on account of his
humour, and laughed at for his peculiarities, should be an object of
danger or of caution, never once entered her imagination. The sort of
intimacy to which she admitted Kerneguy was the same to which she would
have received a companion of her own sex, whose manners she did not
always approve, but whose society she found always amusing.

It was natural that the freedom of Alice Lee's conduct, which arose from
the most perfect indifference, should pass for something approaching to
encouragement in the royal gallant's apprehension, and that any
resolutions he had formed against being tempted to violate the
hospitality of Woodstock, should begin to totter, as opportunities for
doing so became more frequent.

These opportunities were favoured by Albert's departure from Woodstock
the very day after his arrival. It had been agreed, in full council with
Charles and Rochecliffe, that he should go to visit his uncle Everard in
the county of Kent, and, by showing himself there, obviate any cause of
suspicion which might arise from his residence at Woodstock, and remove
any pretext for disturbing his father's family on account of their
harbouring one who had been so lately in arms. He had also undertaken,
at his own great personal risk, to visit different points on the
sea-coast, and ascertain the security of different places for providing
shipping for the King's leaving England.

These circumstances were alike calculated to procure the King's safety,
and facilitate his escape. But Alice was thereby deprived of the
presence of her brother, who would have been her most watchful guardian,
but who had set down the King's light talk upon a former occasion to the
gaiety of his humour, and would have thought he had done his sovereign
great injustice, had he seriously suspected him of such a breach of
hospitality as a dishonourable pursuit of Alice would have implied.

There were, however, two of the household at Woodstock, who appeared not
so entirely reconciled with Louis Kerneguy or his purposes. The one was
Bevis, who seemed, from their first unfriendly rencontre, to have kept
up a pique against their new guest, which no advances on the part of
Charles were able to soften. If the page was by chance left alone with
his young mistress, Bevis chose always to be of the party; came close by
Alice's chair, and growled audibly when the gallant drew near her. "It
is a pity," said the disguised Prince, "that your Bevis is not a
bull-dog, that we might dub him a roundhead at once--He is too handsome,
too noble, too aristocratic, to nourish those inhospitable prejudices
against a poor houseless cavalier. I am convinced the spirit of Pym or
Hampden has transmigrated into the rogue and continues to demonstrate
his hatred against royalty and all its adherents."

Alice would then reply, that Bevis was loyal in word and deed, and only
partook her father's prejudices against the Scots, which, she could not
but acknowledge, were tolerably strong.

"Nay, then," said the supposed Louis, "I must find some other reason,
for I cannot allow Sir Bevis's resentment to rest upon national
antipathy. So we will suppose that some gallant cavalier, who wended to
the wars and never returned, has adopted this shape to look back upon
the haunts he left so unwillingly, and is jealous at seeing even poor
Louis Kerneguy drawing near to the lady of his lost affections."--He
approached her chair as he spoke, and Bevis gave one of his deep growls.

"In that case, you had best keep your distance," said Alice, laughing,
"for the bite of a dog, possessed by the ghost of a jealous lover,
cannot be very safe." And the King carried on the dialogue in the same
strain--which, while it led Alice to apprehend nothing more serious than
the apish gallantry of a fantastic boy, certainly induced the supposed
Louis Kerneguy to think that he had made one of those conquests which
often and easily fall to the share of sovereigns. Notwithstanding the
acuteness of his apprehension, he was not sufficiently aware that the
Royal Road to female favour is only open to monarchs when they travel in
grand costume, and that when they woo incognito, their path of courtship
is liable to the same windings and obstacles which obstruct the course
of private individuals.

There was, besides Bevis, another member of the family, who kept a
look-out upon Louis Kerneguy, and with no friendly eye. Phoebe
Mayflower, though her experience extended not beyond the sphere of the
village, yet knew the world much better than her mistress, and besides
she was five years older. More knowing, she was more suspicious. She
thought that odd-looking Scotch boy made more up to her young mistress
than was proper for his condition of life; and, moreover, that Alice
gave him a little more encouragement than Parthenia would have afforded
to any such Jack-a-dandy, in the absence of Argalus--for the volume
treating of the loves of these celebrated Arcadians was then the
favourite study of swains and damsels throughout merry England.
Entertaining such suspicions, Phoebe was at a loss how to conduct
herself on the occasion, and yet resolved she would not see the
slightest chance of the course of Colonel Everard's true love being
obstructed, without attempting a remedy. She had a peculiar favour for
Markham herself; and, moreover, he was, according to her phrase, as
handsome and personable a young man as was in Oxfordshire; and this
Scottish scarecrow was no more to be compared to him than chalk was to
cheese. And yet she allowed that Master Girnigy had a wonderfully
well-oiled tongue, and that such gallants were not to be despised. What
was to be done?--she had no facts to offer, only vague suspicion; and
was afraid to speak to her mistress, whose kindness, great as it was,
did not, nevertheless, encourage familiarity.

She sounded Joceline; but he was, she knew not why, so deeply interested
about this unlucky lad, and held his importance so high, that she could
make no impression on him. To speak to the old knight would have been to
raise a general tempest. The worthy chaplain, who was, at Woodstock,
grand referee on all disputed matters, would have been the damsel's most
natural resource, for he was peaceful as well as moral by profession,
and politic by practice. But it happened he had given Phoebe
unintentional offence by speaking of her under the classical epithet of
_Rustica Fidele_, the which epithet, as she understood it not, she held
herself bound to resent as contumelious, and declaring she was not
fonder of a _fiddle_ than other folk, had ever since shunned all
intercourse with Dr. Rochecliffe which she could easily avoid.

Master Tomkins was always coming and going about the house under various
pretexts; but he was a roundhead, and she was too true to the cavaliers
to introduce any of the enemy as parties to their internal discords;
besides, he had talked to Phoebe herself in a manner which induced her
to decline everything in the shape of familiarity with him. Lastly,
Cavaliero Wildrake might have been consulted; but Phoebe had her own
reasons for saying, as she did with some emphasis, that Cavaliero
Wildrake was an impudent London rake. At length she resolved to
communicate her suspicions to the party having most interest in
verifying or confuting them.

"I'll let Master Markham Everard know, that there is a wasp buzzing
about his honey-comb," said Phoebe; "and, moreover, that I know that
this young Scotch Scapegrace shifted himself out of a woman's into a
man's dress at Goody Green's, and gave Goody Green's Dolly a gold-piece
to say nothing about it; and no more she did to any one but me, and she
knows best herself whether she gave change for the gold or not--but
Master Louis is a saucy jackanapes, and like enough to ask it."

Three or four days elapsed while matters continued in this
condition--the disguised Prince sometimes thinking on the intrigue which
Fortune seemed to have thrown in his way for his amusement, and taking
advantage of such opportunities as occurred to increase his intimacy
with Alice Lee; but much oftener harassing Dr. Rochecliffe with
questions about the possibility of escape, which the good man finding
himself unable to answer, secured his leisure against royal importunity,
by retreating into the various unexplored recesses of the Lodge, known
perhaps only to himself, who had been for nearly a score of years
employed in writing the Wonders of Woodstock.

It chanced on the fourth day, that some trifling circumstance had called
the knight abroad; and he had left the young Scotsman, now familiar in
the family, along with Alice, in the parlour of Victor Lee. Thus
situated, he thought the time not unpropitious for entering upon a
strain of gallantry, of a kind which might be called experimental, such
as is practised by the Croats in skirmishing, when they keep bridle in
hand, ready to attack the enemy, or canter off without coming to close
quarters, as circumstances may recommend. After using for nearly ten
minutes a sort of metaphysical jargon, which might, according to Alice's
pleasure, have been interpreted either into gallantry, or the language
of serious pretension, and when he supposed her engaged in fathoming his
meaning, he had the mortification to find, by a single and brief
question, that he had been totally unattended to, and that Alice was
thinking on anything at the moment rather than the sense of what he had
been saying. She asked him if he could tell what it was o'clock, and
this with an air of real curiosity concerning the lapse of time, which
put coquetry wholly out of the question.

"I will go look at the sundial, Mistress Alice," said the gallant,
rising and colouring, through a sense of the contempt with which he
thought himself treated.

"You will do me a pleasure, Master Kerneguy," said Alice, without the
least consciousness of the indignation she had excited.

Master Louis Kerneguy left the room accordingly, not, however, to
procure the information required, but to vent his anger and
mortification, and to swear, with more serious purpose than he had dared
to do before, that Alice should rue her insolence. Good-natured as he
was, he was still a prince, unaccustomed to contradiction, far less to
contempt, and his self pride felt, for the moment, wounded to the quick.
With a hasty step he plunged into the Chase, only remembering his own
safety so far as to choose the deeper and sequestered avenues, where,
walking on with the speedy and active step, which his recovery from
fatigue now permitted him to exercise according to his wont, he solaced
his angry purposes, by devising schemes of revenge on the insolent
country coquette, from which no consideration of hospitality was in
future to have weight enough to save her.

The irritated gallant passed

"The dial-stone, aged and green,"

without deigning to ask it a single question; nor could it have
satisfied his curiosity if he had, for no sun happened to shine at the
moment. He then hastened forward, muffling himself in his cloak, and
assuming a stooping and slouching gait, which diminished his apparent
height. He was soon involved in the deep and dim alleys of the wood,
into which he had insensibly plunged himself, and was traversing it at a
great rate, without having any distinct idea in what direction he was
going, when suddenly his course was arrested, first by a loud hello, and
then by a summons to stand, accompanied by what seemed still more
startling and extraordinary, the touch of a cane upon his shoulder,
imposed in a good-humoured but somewhat imperious manner.

There were few symptoms of recognition which would have been welcome at
this moment; but the appearance of the person who had thus arrested his
course, was least of all that he could have anticipated as timely or
agreeable. When he turned, on receiving the signal, he beheld himself
close to a young man, nearly six feet in height, well made in joint and
limb, but the gravity of whose apparel, although handsome and
gentlemanlike, and a sort of precision in his habit, from the cleanness
and stiffness of his band to the unsullied purity of his Spanish-leather
shoes, bespoke a love of order which was foreign to the impoverished and
vanquished cavaliers, and proper to the habits of those of the
victorious party, who could afford to dress themselves handsomely; and
whose rule--that is, such as regarded the higher and more respectable
classes--enjoined decency and sobriety of garb and deportment. There was
yet another weight against the Prince in the scale, and one still more
characteristic of the inequality in the comparison, under which he
seemed to labour. There was strength in the muscular form of the
stranger who had brought him to this involuntary parley, authority and
determination in his brow, a long rapier on the left, and a poniard or
dagger on the right side of his belt, and a pair of pistols stuck into
it, which would have been sufficient to give the unknown the advantage,
(Louis Kerneguy having no weapon but his sword,) even had his personal
strength approached nearer than it did to that of the person by whom he
was thus suddenly stopped.

Bitterly regretting the thoughtless fit of passion that brought him into
his present situation, but especially the want of the pistols he had
left behind, and which do so much to place bodily strength and weakness
upon an equal footing, Charles yet availed himself of the courage and
presence of mind, in which few of his unfortunate family had for
centuries been deficient. He stood firm and without motion, his cloak
still wrapped round the lower part of his face, to give time for
explanation, in case he was mistaken for some other person.

This coolness produced its effect; for the other party said,--with doubt
and surprise on his part, "Joceline Joliffe, is it not?--if I know not
Joceline Joliffe, I should at least know my own cloak."

"I am not Joceline Joliffe, as you may see, sir," said Kerneguy, calmly,
drawing himself erect to show the difference of size, and dropping the
cloak from his face and person.

"Indeed!" replied the stranger, in surprise; "then, Sir Unknown, I have
to express my regret at having used my cane in intimating that I wished
you to stop. From that dress, which I certainly recognise for my own, I
concluded you must be Joceline, in whose custody I had left my habit at
the Lodge."

"If it had been Joceline, sir," replied the supposed Kerneguy, with
perfect composure, "methinks you should not have struck so hard." The
other party was obviously confused by the steady calmness with which he
was encountered. The sense of politeness dictated, in the first place,
an apology for a mistake, when he thought he had been tolerably certain
of the person. Master Kerneguy was not in a situation to be punctilious;
he bowed gravely, as indicating his acceptance of the excuse offered,
then turned, and walked, as he conceived, towards the Lodge; though he
had traversed the woods which were cut with various alleys in different
directions, too hastily to be certain of the real course which he wished
to pursue.

He was much embarrassed to find that this did not get him rid of the
companion whom he had thus involuntarily acquired. Walked he slow,
walked he fast, his friend in the genteel but puritanic habit, strong in
person, and well armed, as we have described him, seemed determined to
keep him company, and, without attempting to join, or enter into
conversation, never suffered him to outstrip his surveillance for more
than two or three yards. The Wanderer mended his pace; but, although he
was then, in his youth, as afterwards in his riper age, one of the best
walkers in Britain, the stranger, without advancing his pace to a run,
kept fully equal to him, and his persecution became so close and
constant, and inevitable, that the pride and fear of Charles were both
alarmed, and he began to think that, whatever the danger might be of a
single-handed rencontre, he would nevertheless have a better bargain of
this tall satellite if they settled the debate betwixt them in the
forest, than if they drew near any place of habitation, where the man in
authority was likely to find friends and concurrents.

Betwixt anxiety, therefore, vexation, and anger, Charles faced suddenly
round on his pursuer, as they reached a small narrow glade, which led to
the little meadow over which presided the King's Oak, the ragged and
scathed branches and gigantic trunk of which formed a vista to the
little wild avenue.

"Sir," said he to his pursuer, "you have already been guilty of one
piece of impertinence towards me. You have apologised; and knowing no
reason why you should distinguish me as an object of incivility, I have
accepted your excuse without scruple. Is there any thing remains to be
settled betwixt us, which causes you to follow me in this manner? If so,
I shall be glad to make it a subject of explanation or satisfaction, as
the case may admit of. I think you can owe me no malice; for I never saw
you before to my knowledge. If you can give any good reason for asking
it, I am willing to render you personal satisfaction. If your purpose is
merely impertinent curiosity, I let you know that I will not suffer
myself to be dogged in my private walks by any one."

"When I recognise my own cloak on another man's shoulders," replied the
stranger, dryly, "methinks I have a natural right to follow and see what
becomes of it; for know, sir, though I have been mistaken as to the
wearer, yet I am confident I had as good a right to stretch my cane
across the cloak you are muffled in, as ever had any one to brush his
own garments. If, therefore, we are to be friends, I must ask, for
instance, how you came by that cloak, and where you are going with it? I
shall otherwise make bold to stop you, as one who has sufficient
commission to do so."

"Oh, unhappy cloak," thought the Wanderer, "ay, and thrice unhappy the
idle fancy that sent me here with it wrapped around my nose, to pick
quarrels and attract observation, when quiet and secrecy were peculiarly
essential to my safety!"

"If you will allow me to guess, sir," continued the stranger, who was no
other than Markham Everard, "I will convince you that you are better
known than you think for."

"Now, Heaven forbid!" prayed the party addressed, in silence, but with
as much devotion as ever he applied to a prayer in his life. Yet even in
this moment of extreme urgency, his courage and composure did not fail;
and he recollected it was of the utmost importance not to seem startled,
and to answer so as, if possible, to lead the dangerous companion with
whom he had met, to confess the extent of his actual knowledge or
suspicions concerning him.

"If you know me, sir," he said, "and are a gentleman, as your appearance
promises, you cannot be at a loss to discover to what accident you must
attribute my wearing these clothes, which you say are yours." "Oh, sir,"
replied Colonel Everard, his wrath in no sort turned away by the
mildness of the stranger's answer--"we have learned our Ovid's
Metamorphoses, and we know for what purposes young men of quality travel
in disguise--we know that even female attire is resorted to on certain
occasions--We have heard of Vertumnus and Pomona."

Copyright (c) 2007. famouswriterz.com. All rights reserved.