CHAPTER VIII.

ST. AUGUSTINE'S GREEN.

Wholly unconscious that they were followed, the king and his attendant mounted the eminence on which stood St. Augustine's Church. By this time the moon had risen, and its beams silvered the tower and roof of the majestic edifice. Before entering St. Augustine's Green--now known as College Green--a large quadrangular piece of ground bordered by trees, spread out in front of the cathedral, Charles cast a glance at the city, which, viewed from this elevation, with its walls, ancient habitations, and church towers, illumined by the moon's radiance, presented a striking picture. While gazing in this direction he noticed two troopers at the foot of the hill, who had evidently just crossed over from the quay, but they did not excite his apprehension.

The moon being at the back of the collegiate church, the broad black shadow of the venerable pile was thrown upon the green, reaching almost as far as the high cross which stood in the centre of the enclosure. As Charles walked towards the cross he saw a female figure hurry away, and enter the alley of trees that bordered the green on the west. He instantly followed, and found Dame Gives.

"Why did you fly from me?" he asked.

"I was not certain that it was your majesty," she rejoined. "The person with you is a stranger to me."

"He is a faithful adherent whom I have found at Abbots Leigh," replied Charles. "I could not bring Major Careless with me, for he is otherwise occupied, but you will see him anon."

And he then proceeded to explain that Careless had been left to look after the master of the lugger.

"Heaven grant that all may go well!" she exclaimed. "How rejoiced I shall be when your majesty is safe at Swansea!"

"You will be still more pleased when we are all safe in France," said Charles.

"I do not think I shall ever arrive there, sire," she rejoined, sadly. "I am not usually down-hearted, as you know. But I am so low-spirited to-night that I think you will be better without me."

"No, no," cried Charles. "Go you must. Major Careless will be miserable if you are left behind."

"Nay, I don't desire to make him miserable," she rejoined, forcing a laugh. "Whatever may happen I will go. But I will tell your majesty why I feel so uneasy. While I was standing under the shadow of the church a dark figure approached me, and at first I thought it was Major Careless, whom I expected. A strange terror seized me. The figure slowly and noiselessly advanced, and as it drew near the blood froze in my veins, and my heart ceased to beat, for I saw that it was Urso. Yes, it was Urso, come from the grave to torment me! His face was the face of a corpse, but his eyes gleamed with preternatural brightness. I tried to fly, but I continued chained to the spot. The phantom approached--and oh, horror! it stood close beside me, and these words, uttered in a sepulchral tone, reached my ear: 'I have come to summon you.' For a moment my senses seemed to desert me. When I recovered, the phantom was gone."

"'Twas the delusion of an over-excited imagination," observed Charles, who nevertheless was powerfully impressed by the relation.

"No, sire," she replied, shuddering. "I could not be deceived. I saw Urso too plainly. Nothing could equal the horror with which he inspired me. Death would be dreadful indeed if I must rejoin him."

There was a pause, during which Charles made no remark, for, in spite of himself, he felt a sense of terror creeping over him.

At length Dame Gives broke the silence:

"As soon as I regained the use of my limbs," she said, "I went to yonder chapel," pointing to a small sacred structure on the eastern side of the green, "and finding the door open I went in, and kneeling down, prayed fervently. Since then I have felt greatly relieved, and prepared for whatever may ensue."

"'Tis a mere trick of fancy," cried Charles. "But, despite the fancied summons, you must go with me. If we remain here longer, I shall think I see Urso's ghost myself."

He then called to Pope, who was standing near at hand, and bade him lead the way to the downs. Marching in advance, the butler took them to the further end of the green, and then commenced another steep ascent. Dame Gives still felt rather faint, and required the aid of the king's arm in mounting the hill. Not one of the party was aware that they were cautiously followed by the two troopers.