Part 9

At the end of the alley a narrow path turned off on the left that brought them, after several windings, to an open space in the heart of the thicket. Here stood the hut; and thus buried, it was not likely that the little habitation would be discovered unless its situation were pointed out.

As the noble pair drew near the hut, a savage growl was heard, and a large, fierce-looking dog rushed from behind a great stack of wood. The moment, however, the savage animal beheld the earl he became quiet and crouched at his feet.

At the same time the woodcutter made his appearance.

Nathan Blacklaw was strongly built, and had a manly, resolute look. On his shoulder he carried a hatchet, and his costume consisted of a leather jacket, a leather cap, and long leather gaiters, reaching considerably above the knee. He had come forward on hearing his dog bark, and immediately recognizing the earl and countess, doffed his cap and made a rough obeisance.

“Cheviot knows me as well as you do, Nathan,” observed the earl, patting the dog's large head.

“Ay, he wad na ha' allowed any one but your lordship and my lady to come nigh the hut,” said the wood-cutter.

“You must find him a good companion in this solitary spot, Nathan,” remarked the countess.

“'Deed I do, my lady. I dunna know what I and my dame should do without Cheviot.”

“We have come to have a look at the hut, Nathan,” said the earl. “Show us inside it, will you?”

Just then a good-looking woman--not more than thirty-five--plainly, yet not unbecomingly dressed, came forth.

Without any hesitation or embarrassment, Dame Black-law at once ushered the noble pair into the cottage.

Necessarily it was very small, but it looked clean and tidy. It contained only a couple of rooms: in the largest, on which the door opened, the inmates had their meals; it was furnished with a chest of drawers, a small oak table, an arm-chair, a rush-bottomed chair, and a settee.

Besides these there was a clock, and in one corner was a cupboard containing pewter plates, three or four drinking-mugs, certain articles of crockery, and a brace of squat-looking Dutch bottles. Fixed against the wall on the side opposite the cupboard was a crucifix, for Nathan and his wife were Papists. On the hearth burnt a cheerful wood fire, and above it hung a large iron pot. Over the mantelpiece was placed a gun. The inner room, about half the size of the other, held the bed of the worthy couple, who had no family.

“What will you say, dame, when I tell you that I am coming to spend a few days with you?” remarked the earl.

“Your lordship is pleased to jest,” she replied, with a smile. “It isn't very likely you will stay here.”

“Likely or not, you may expect me to-morrow morning,” said the earl.

She held up her hands in astonishment.

“To speak plainly, I don't find it safe at the castle,” said the earl. “If I remain there I shall be arrested, so I mean to take refuge in your cottage.”

“I thought as much,” cried Nathan. “I shall be proud, indeed, to afford your lordship a hiding-place, and I think you will be quite safe here.”

“The magistrates are coming with a party of horse-militia to-morrow, and as they won't find me at the castle, they are sure to make a strict search in the neighbourhood.”

“Let 'em try. We'll baffle 'em,” said the woodcutter.

“But however shall we accommodate his lordship?” said

Dame Blacklaw to the countess. “He won't condescend to occupy our bed.”

“Give yourself no trouble about me, dame,” interposed the earl. “I can sleep very well in that arm-chair. With Cheviot to watch over me, I shall fear no nocturnal intruder.”

“Your lordship will have timely warning should any one come near the place. Of that you may rest assured,” said the woodcutter.

Having made all the arrangements he thought necessary, the earl then left with the countess. His parting injunction to the woodcutter and his wife was to look out for him early in the morning, and not to breathe a word to any one that they expected him.

IV.--THE MAIDEN'S WALK.

|Despite his melancholy forebodings, the earl little dreamed this would be the last night he should ever pass at the castle. He attended mass in the little chapel, and held a long consultation with his brother, Charles Rad-clyffe, who had now returned from Corbridge, as to the best steps to be taken.

“'Tis unlucky that our friends are scattered at this moment,” said the earl. “Had we been able to unite, instead of flying from arrest, we might have attacked Newcastle, and, if we had succeeded in capturing the place, we should have been masters of the county.”

“This may yet be accomplished,” said Charles Radclyffe.

“Not unless we can get together a sufficient force,” said the earl. “Forster and Lord Widdrington may not like to make the attempt, as I know they both deem it very hazardous. We shall hear what Widdrington says on his return from Lancashire.”

“Shall I appoint a meeting if I can find means of communicating with them?” asked Charles Radclyffe. “And where shall the place of rendezvous be fixed?”

“At Plainfield or thereabouts,” replied the earl. “Ten days hence I will be there, unless I am prevented, and will bring with me all the men I can muster.”

“I will find some means of sending this information to Forster,” said Charles Radclyffe, “and he will communicate with Widdrington. If the Earl of Mar would send us a Highland regiment it would help us greatly. Shall I write to him in your name?”

“Do so without delay,” said the earl. “The rising will never be successful unless our force is materially strengthened.”

“All your instructions shall be attended to,” said Charles Radclyffe, “and I trust nothing will go wrong to-morrow.”

The rest of the evening was spent in affectionate converse by the earl and countess. There were no guests in the house, so they sat together till supper, when they were joined by Charles Radclyffe and Father Nor-ham.

The countess was in excellent spirits, and laughed at the threatened visit of the magistrates. If the earl was not equally free from apprehension, he contrived to assume a cheerful aspect.

Next morning, soon after daybreak, Lord Denventwater arose. The countess was still slumbering, but before he took his departure he stooped down to print a kiss on her brow. Instantly awakened, she flung her arms round his neck and bade him adieu.

“I have had a very happy dream,” she said; “and I hope it may come true. I thought the king was restored, and chiefly by your instrumentality.”

“Much has to be done ere that can be accomplished,” rejoined the earl. “But I do not despair.”

“I wish you could remain here, and resist the officers,” she said. “How pleased I should be to see them driven hence!”

“There is no chance of such a result,” said the earl. “We must bide our time. In a few days we shall take the field.”

Tenderly embracing her, he then quitted the room.

None of the household were astir as Lord Derwentwater went forth. He gave one look at the mansion, heaved a deep sigh, and proceeded towards the wood.

The morning was grey and misty, the trees in the park could scarcely be distinguished, and the brook at the bottom of the glen was hidden by vapour.

Gloomy thoughts likewise possessed him, and as he tracked the sombre alley, he thought he beheld a female figure, arrayed in white, advancing towards him.

Not doubting it was the Maiden, he instantly stopped.

In another moment the phantom stood before him. Its looks were sad and compassionate, but it spoke not, and terror kept him dumb.

After remaining thus transfixed for a few moments, he broke the spell and moved forwards, but the phantom waved him back, and he again halted.

With another warning gesture, accompanied by a look of indescribable pity, the figure vanished.

Not for some minutes after issuing from the alley, did the earl recover from the shock he had received, and he was still leaning for support against a tree, when he was roused by the approach of the woodcutter and his dog.

“I fear your lordship is unwell?” remarked Nathan.

“No,” replied the earl, “but I have been much alarmed. I have just seen the Maiden.”

“Then I don't wonder your lordship is disturbed,” said the woodcutter. “May I venture to ask what occurred?”

“The spirit warned me to turn back,” said the earl. “But it is now too late.”

The woodcutter made no remark, but seemed to think that the warning ought not to be neglected.

On reaching the hut, Lord Derwentwater threw himself into the arm-chair and presently fell asleep. Nor did he awake for some hours.

During this interval, Dame Blacklaw moved about as noiselessly as she could, so as not to disturb him--Cheviot crouched at his feet--and Nathan went on with his work outside; but he left it, ever and anon, for a short space, while he flew to the skirts of the woods to reconnoitre.

V.--HOW CHARLES RADCLYFFE PROVOKED SIR WILLIAM LORRAINE.

|About nine o'clock on the same morning, the Newcastle magistrates arrived at the castle. They were attended by certain subordinate officers, armed with sword and pistol, and by a party of horse-militia.

As the gate had been thrown wide open by the porter, they all rode into the court, and the chief persons--three in number--proceeded to the entrance and dismounted.

Among them was Sir William Lorraine, who, though he had long ceased to be high sheriff, was still a magistrate. As on the former expedition, Sir William was accompanied by his active agent, Jesmond, who was determined not to be duped on the present occasion. While the magistrates and the others entered the court, Jesmond and his comrade Hedgeley fastened up their horses and proceeded to the garden to look about them.

As may well be supposed, the noise and clatter caused by this large party of horsemen, had brought forth all the servants, and when the magistrates dismounted at the steps, they were met by Newbiggin and two or three others.

In return to their obeisances, Sir William, as the principal magistrate, said in a loud authoritative tone to Newbiggin:

“Conduct us at once to the Earl of Derwentwater. We hold a warrant for his arrest.”

“His lordship is not within,” replied the butler, with formal politeness.

“Where is he?” demanded Sir William. “We must see him.”

“I don't see how that can be managed, Sir William, seeing that his lordship is in Lancashire,” rejoined Newbiggin.

“In Lancashire!” exclaimed Sir William. “He must have travelled very quickly. I know he was here yesterday.”

“Yes, Sir William, but he intended to ride throughout the night, and I make no doubt he is in Lancashire this morning.”

“Then he has fled?”

“Pardon me, Sir William, he has gone on a visit to some of his Roman Catholic friends.”

“Harkee, sirrah!” cried Mr. Woodburn, another of the magistrates. “Take care how you attempt to deceive us. You will not go unpunished.”

“Perhaps you would like to see her ladyship, gentlemen--or Mr. Charles Radclyffe?” said Mr. Newbiggin.

“It will be necessary to see them both, and to search the house as well,” said Mr. Woodburn.

“You will be good enough to state your wishes to her ladyship, sir,” rejoined the butler. “I dare say she will make no objection. Be pleased to step this way, gentlemen.”

He then conducted them across the hall to the diningroom, where they found Lady Derwentwater, Mr. Charles Radclyffe and Father Norham at breakfast.

Her ladyship looked very charming in her morning toilette, and seemed in no way discomposed by the entrance of the magistrates. Still holding the cup of chocolate, from which she was sipping, she arose and made them a formal courtesy.

“These gentlemen are Newcastle magistrates, my lady,” said the butler significantly.

“I understand,” she replied. “You have explained that his lordship is not at home?”

“Yes, my lady; but they are not content with my assurance.”

“Your ladyship must be fully aware,” said Sir William, sententiously, “that the Earl of Derwentwater has incurred the suspicion of Government, and will not therefore be surprised to learn that we hold a warrant for his arrest. We cannot depart without him.”

“That implies a doubt as to the truth of the statement you have just heard, that his lordship is not at home,” observed the countess.

“Where her husband's safety is concerned a wife may perhaps consider herself justified in duping the authorities,” remarked Sir William. “If I seem to doubt your ladyship's word, you must excuse me.”

“Then I will say no more, but leave you to take your own course,” she rejoined.

“We will put your ladyship to as little inconvenience as we can,” said Mr. Woodburn. “But we must search the house.”

“Search as much as you please, gentlemen, you will be disappointed,” remarked Charles Radclyffe. “I will give you my head if you find Lord Derwentwater here.”

“I know you to be a man of honour, sir,” said Sir William, “and therefore am inclined to believe you.”

“Inclined to believe me, sir!” exclaimed Charles Radclyffe, furiously. “'Sdeath, sir, you _shall_ believe me, or render an immediate account of your incredulity.”

“If you have a quarrel to arrange, pray step out upon the lawn,” remarked Lady Derwentwater.

“At any other time, I should not refuse Mr. Charles Radclyffe's challenge,” said Sir William. “But just now I have a duty to perform, and shall not be deterred by an idle threat. I must again express my conviction that Lord Derwentwater is concealed in the house.”

“Then make a careful search, Sir William,” said the countess. “And if you cannot disprove Mr. Charles Radclyffe's assertion, you are bound to offer him an apology.”

Turning to Father Norham, she added, “Your reverence will be good enough to conduct these gentlemen over the house. Go with them, likewise, Newbiggin.”

“I shall take leave to make one of the party,” said Charles Radclyffe.

Thereupon, they quitted the dining-room, leaving the countess alone.

This was the second time that Sir William Lorraine had made a perquisition of the house, and he was able, therefore, to get through the business with despatch. But he had to brook a great many insolent observations from Charles Radclyffe, who lost no opportunity of provoking him. The search occupied more than an hour, and when it was concluded, and the magistrates were obliged to confess their failure, Charles burst into a contemptuous laugh, and said:

“This is on a par with your great feat at Bamborough, Sir William, which gained you so much reputation in the county, when you were high sheriff.”

“You do well to remind me of the trick played upon me at that time,” said Sir William, greatly exasperated. “I have not forgotten it, though Mr. Forster and some others may wish I had. I think, sir, you will be safest at Newcastle, and since I cannot secure Lord Derwentwater, I will take you with me, and hold you as a hostage for your brother.”

“Do not imagine I will accompany you, Sir William,” said Charles.

“You will have no option,” rejoined the other. “You will be taken as a prisoner.”

“I scarcely think so,” said Charles. “You have no warrant, and I will resist any attempt to arrest me.”

This angry colloquy took place in the hall, and was overheard by several of the servants, who were ready to rush to Charles Radclyffe's assistance should he need them.

Just then Jesmond and Hedgeley came in, and the magistrates called out to them.

Profiting by this interval, Father Norham urged the rash young man to fly, and he yielded to the counsel.

Drawing his sword, he ran along a passage communicating with the terrace. But he was quickly followed both by the magistrates and the officers, and it seemed that a conflict would take place on the terrace, for the servants were likewise hurrying to the same spot.

The windows of the dining-room, in which the countess was still sitting, commanded the scene of action, and hearing a noise she came forward to see what was taking place.

She beheld Charles Radclyffe standing there, with his drawn sword, threatening any one who approached him. Feeling however, that if any catastrophe occurred the consequences would be disastrous, he formed a different resolution, and at once acted upon it.

Springing to the side of the terrace, that bordered the ravine, he flung his sword into the hollow, and then plunged down the rocky sides of the abyss, certain no one would follow him in this perilous descent.

Those who looked down from the terrace, saw him reach the banks of the Devil's Water in safety, pick up his sword, and then disappear among the bushes.

Jesmond, who had drawn a pistol, would have fired at him, but this Sir William Lorraine would not allow.

“Capture him, if you can,” he said. “But he must not be wounded--unless he resists.”

But it did not appear likely that anything more would be seen of him.

VI.--HOW CHARLES RADCLYFFE JOINED THE EARL AT THE HUT.

|AFTER slumbering tranquilly for three or four hours in the arm-chair Lord Derwentwater roused himself, and breakfasted with a very good appetite on the simple fare provided for him by Dame Blacklaw.

He next occupied himself in examining some papers which he carried in a small portfolio, and was still thus employed when Cheviot, who had never left him, suddenly raised his head, and gave a low growl.

“He hears something,” observed Dame Blacklaw. “But there can be no danger, or Nathan would have come to warn your lordship.”

After listening for a moment, Cheviot got up and began to whine, and the door being opened, he rushed forth and a joyous bark was instantly heard outside.

Curious to learn who was there, Lord Derwentwater hastily put up his papers, and went out.

To his great surprise, he found the new-comer was his brother, who told him in a few words what had taken place, and though the earl blamed him for his imprudence, he felt greatly enraged against Sir William Lorraine.

“I should like to drive these magistrates from the castle,” he said.

“If you are of that mind, it may still be done,” rejoined Charles. “But for your express orders to the contrary, I would have shut the gates, and shown them fight.”

“But no preparations had been made,” said the earl.

“There you are mistaken,” returned Charles. “I was quite ready. All the tenants and retainers are stationed at the farm; all the horses have been taken there; all the arms and ammunition have been removed from the old tower, and deposited in one of the barns; all the grooms and active men-servants are likewise at the farm.”

“And you have done all this without consulting me?” cried the earl.

“It was done at the urgent request of the countess,” replied Charles. “She said, 'It is not fitting that the Earl of Derwentwater should hide in hovels, when the gentry are in arms for their lawful sovereign. It shall never be said that the officers came to Dilston to arrest him, and were allowed to depart as they came. If no one else will do it, I will drive them hence. I disuaded her from this bold step, but I agreed to get all ready with the design of effecting your rescue if you should fall into their hands.”

“You have done well, Charles,” cried the earl, “and I thank you. Let us to the farm at once, and if the enemy are still at the castle we will soon expel them.”

“This resolution is worthy of you, my lord,” said Charles. “I fear your flight might have been misconstrued.”

Thinking Nathan might be useful, the earl bade him follow, and hastened away with his brother.

VII.--HOW THE MAGISTRATES AND THE MILITIAMEN WERE FORCED TO QUIT THE CASTLE.

|The farm to which reference has just been made, lay on the other side of the castle, and was distant about half a mile from the woodcutter's hut.

The earl and his companions, however, proceeded so expeditiously that they were soon there, but as they were tracking a lane that led to the farm buildings they encountered a man, who had evidently been reconnoitring the place, and instantly secured him.

This proved to be Jesmond, and though armed, he did not offer any resistance--probably thinking it would be useless. Disarming him, and giving the weapons to Nathan, the earl told the latter to shoot the man if he attempted to fly.

An additional guard was found in Cheviot, who had followed his master, and cut off all chance of the prisoner's escape.

In some respects this was an important capture, and the earl hoped to turn it to account. At any rate, he had ascertained that the party were still at the castle, and felt sure he should take them by surprise.

On entering the farm-yard the earl found between thirty and forty stalwart yeomen collected there.

All of them had got good strong horses, and had pistols in their holsters and swords by the side. With them were half a dozen grooms. The sight of these sturdy fellows sent a thrill through the earl's breast, and he reproached himself with not having confided to them the defence of the castle. They would have set up a shout on his appearance, but he checked them. Very few minutes sufficed to arrange matters. All the yeomen were quickly in the saddle.

Mounted on his favourite dapple-grey steed, which had been brought to the farmyard, the Earl of Derwentwater put himself at the head of his troop, and bade them follow him to the castle--but ere they arrived there they received an important reinforcement.

Colonel Oxburgh, Captain Wogan, and the rest of that gallant little band, who still held together, were then at Hexham, and having learnt that the magistrates of Newcastle, attended by a party of horse-militia, designed to arrest Lord Derwentwater, they set off to the earl's assistance, and arrived in the very nick of time.

They were galloping up the chestnut avenue at the very time when the earl brought his troop from the farm. An immediate explanation took place; and on hearing how matters stood, Colonel Oxburgh exclaimed, “I think we can take them prisoners.”

They then rode quickly forward, and finding that the whole of the militiamen were in the court, they drew up in front of the gate, so as to prevent the departure of the intruders.

After this successful manouvre, which was very quickly executed, Lord Derwentwater and the principal persons with him advanced into the court.

Here all was confusion and dismay. Most of the militiamen had dismounted, and were scattered about the court in a very disorderly manner.

While their leader was shouting to them to mount, Lord Derwentwater dashed up to him, and seizing his bridle, demanded his sword.

The officer held back for a moment, but seeing that the gate was strongly guarded, and retreat impossible, he yielded, and the men did not seem inclined to offer any further opposition.

Hitherto the magistrates had been inside the house, but they now came forth to see what was going on, and no sooner had they done so than the door was shut and barred behind them.

They were contemplating the scene with dismay, when Lord Derwentwater and his friends came up.

“The tables are turned, you perceive, gentlemen,” said the earl, in a mocking tone. “You have come here to arrest me, and are made prisoners yourselves.”

“But your lordship won't detain us,” rejoined Sir William.

“I have no wish to put you to inconvenience, but I shall not let you go, unless you engage to return direct to Newcastle.”

After a short consultation with his brother magistrates, Sir William said, “We agree.”

“You must also deliver up the warrant, and undertake that no further attempt shall be made to arrest me,” said the earl.

“Your lordship must feel that we cannot enter into such an engagement,” replied Mr. Woodburn. “We will deliver up the warrant, but we cannot tell what steps may be taken.”

“Well, I advise you not to come again on the like errand,” said the earl. “One of your officers has fallen into my hands. I shall keep him as a hostage, and if aught happens contrary to our present understanding, I will most assuredly shoot him. Now, gentlemen, you are free to depart as soon as you please.”