Chapter III: Lady Greensleeves' Story (continued) (2)

'The day was a most glorious one. Never was a more perfect summer morning. We were in exuberant spirits when we poured out into the garden, to make the most of our holiday, and talk about the great event which we were to remember to the last hour of our lives. I think we all obeyed that injunction of Madame St. Aubert's to the letter. I can answer for three of us at any rate.

'"We are absolved from our secret, Frances," said Bessie. "Madame St. Aubert called me back to tell me so, and to bid me give you both her best thanks for keeping it so well."

"She owes me her thanks," said Henrietta, with a sigh of relief. "It has been a very painful secret to me, and I am heartily glad to have done with it."

"So that was the reason your face grew so bright when Dr. Power told us the news!" cried Bessie, laughing. "I thought it could not be on the Duke's account."

'"No, indeed. I was only thinking that, now he really has landed, the news must soon be known all over the country. I have been very uneasy ever since that promise, Bessie. I was loth enough to give it, but I could not refuse to keep a secret that we had found out in such a questionable, hardly honourable, kind of way." Bessie opened her eyes.

'"Uneasy! But why uneasy? My dear Henrietta, if you had refused to promise, what difference would it have made? What could you have done?"

'"I don't quite know, but I felt as if I had no right to hide such a very serious piece of news as that. It seemed to me that I ought, in strict right, to let my father know of it."

'"Henrietta!" cried Bessie, aghast. "But you could not have done it; Madame would never have allowed that!"

'"No, I do not know that I could have managed it; but I might have tried. I fear I did wrong in making any promise, after all. Remember, Bessie, this is a terribly important matter: it is the beginning of a rebellion--of a civil war."

'"But, Henrietta," I asked, "won't your father join the Duke of Monmouth, then? Bessie says she is sure her uncle will. Oh, how I hope my father will, too! And, ah! poor Oliver, I know how he will long to be off to the Duke's army, and how he will try to persuade mamma that he is old enough." Henrietta smiled, and pulled my curls.

'"No, Francis, I hope your father will do no such thing; and I am quite sure that mine will not. However, happen what may now, my father, and the King, and everybody else too, knows what is going on, and can take whatever course they please; so I am content. I can do neither good nor harm in the matter now."

'"No," sighed Bessie: "if we were only men! But, as it is, we can do nothing to help the Duke, nothing whatever, except to pray that the right side may have the victory."

'"The right side," murmured Henrietta thoughtfully. "Yes, Bessie, we can pray for the right side."

'Now that our tongues were free once more, Bessie and I were ready enough to astonish the other girls with the history of our adventure three days ago; and great was the excitement and interest with which they listened to it.

'"_I_ knew there was something!" "So that was why you all three vanished for such a long time?" "_I_ thought Bessie squeezed up her lips unusually tight, as if she was afraid something was going to escape them." "_I_ wondered why Frances had been looking so solemn and important lately." Such were the exclamations with which our story was greeted,--exclamations that rather hurt my feelings, and Bessie's too, I think, for we had prided ourselves upon behaving exactly the same as usual, and not looking in the least bit conscious or mysterious.

'"I wonder what your father will do, Frances," said Agnes Blount, "and Sir Harry, and poor Algernon too. Why, what will become of the pages if the King and Queen are driven away? Alack! alack! I hope he won't be beheaded, or anything dreadful happen to him!" This startling idea had not struck me before. Poor Algernon! of course I should not have liked him to be beheaded; though, at the same time, it was a great comfort to think that it was he, and not Oliver, whose neck might be in danger.

'"Nonsense, Agnes," I said, trying to speak very decidedly. "As if they would behead a boy!"

'"Oh, but they would," put in Lucy Fordyce. "Prince Arthur was only a boy, you know, and yet King John murdered him."

'"My dear Lucy, that was so very long ago. Besides Lord Desmond is not heir to the Crown." There was something in that argument, as Agnes allowed, still she did not seem quite satisfied.

'"No, but you see, Frances, he is one of the Queen's pages; and if there really is going to be another civil war, perhaps they will murder the King, as they did his father, and maybe the Queen too; and then, of course, any one belonging to the court will be in great danger. Oh Fan, supposing poor Algernon was to be killed, you would be a widow, you know. Oh dear! oh dear! How shocking!" This last recollection, added to her fears for Algernon, was too much for Agnes. She gave one half-stifled sob and burst into tears.

'This made me feel very uncomfortable, and more really frightened on Algernon's account than I had been at first; for it was such a new thing to see Agnes cry--Agnes, generally so blyth and sweet-tempered--that I began to fear that things must indeed be getting serious. Poor Algernon! We had not been particularly good friends that first and last time of our meeting, considering for what purpose that meeting had been, nor had our parting been much taken to heart by either of us; yet when I remembered his honest brown eyes, and round, rosy, good-humoured face as he rushed about so happily with my brothers, and then tried to imagine him with his curly head upon the block, or dying, sword in hand, amongst a heap of slaughtered pages, a sudden desire came over me to cry also.

"Fancy _you_ a widow!" repeated Agnes, with another dismal sob, as I put my arm round her neck and tried to say something consoling.

'"Like Dr. Power's mother," suggested Lucy Fordyce, looking at me with a sort of scared expression.

'I made an effort to fancy myself like Dr. Power's mother, and the consequence was a violent fit of laughter, which checked my tears completely, and dried up Agnes's too; for Mistress Tabitha Power was eighty-five, and wore deep mourning robes which swept the ground, a black hood drawn almost over her face, and always leaned upon an ebony crutch with a silver handle. Then, when our laugh was over, Agnes began to wonder again what side my father and Sir Harry Mountfort would take in the coming war, if war there really was to be. Mamma, I felt pretty sure, would be for the Duke of Monmouth, because Dr. Power had said that the King would make Papists of us all; and I knew that mamma was the stanchest of Protestants, and that nothing on earth would be so abhorrent to her as the idea of having her own religion or that of her children interfered with. As to my father, I did not know what to think about him, but I had a vague impression that Colonel Dare thought him likely to favour the Duke's pretensions; and if Colonel Dare did not know, who did? Agnes was rather doubtful about Sir Harry. She wished very much to believe that he would take the same view of affairs as Madame St. Aubert and Dr. Power, but could not avoid a misgiving that, whatever his own opinions might be, the part which he eventually took would be decided by Lady Mountfort.

'"And she is a strict Catholic, you know, Frances; and no ones loves the King more than she does. I remember how she used to praise him when he was Duke of York. Ah! she will never let Sir Harry stand up against King James, and he always does everything she wishes."

'"Perhaps my father will persuade him," I suggested: "they are such great friends, you know."

'"Ah! you don't know Lady Mountfort," returned Agnes despondingly. She was quite a Monmouthite already, the only drawback being her uneasiness for Algernon. In fact Dr. Power's eloquence had plunged every one of us (Henrietta alone excepted) heart and soul into the Duke's cause, which was not to be wondered at. What else, indeed, was to be expected, considering how very little we knew about the business, save what he chose to tell us? So we sat under the lime tree all that pleasant sunny morning, making guesses as to what our respective relations intended to do; and trying to persuade ourselves that they, one and all, must, should, and would buckle on their swords for our hero, the Duke of Monmouth.

'Madame invited us to sup with her that evening in the north parlour; and a few of her particular friends were of the party--Dr. Power amongst them, who was in tremendous spirits, and made another speech, so brilliant that I thought it might almost have brought King James himself to come quietly down from his throne and make a present of his crown to his nephew. Yes, that was a delightful evening. We danced, and sang madrigals, and played games, and, before we broke up, drank Monmouth's health in a cup of that very choice canary which was generally considered sacred to Dr. Power, and which Madame's pupils had never aspired to partake of in their wildest dreams.

'Well, the time passed on, and little was talked of in the house but the Duke of Monmouth and his prospects. Scraps of news came in from time to time to feed our excitement, the bearer thereof being generally Dr. Power. First we heard of a skirmish at Bridport, which seemed to have been a somewhat confused and doubtful affair, in which neither side had got much the best of it. Then we were shocked by hearing that Colonel Dare was dead, shot in a quarrel with a Scotch gentleman, one of Monmouth's followers. Dr. Power shook his head very gravely when he told us this. It looked ill, he said, for the discipline of the Duke's army and the unity of his officers, that such an outrage should have taken place. However, the Duke had been highly indignant, and had done the only thing that could be done under the circumstances, and sent off the offending Scot, Colonel Fletcher of Saltoun, to the Continent.

'"So there go two of his best officers already," quoth Dr. Power, with a sigh; "and that's no trifling loss, let me tell you. Ah! well, I always told Dare it would come to this. I have known him from a boy, and he was always the same furious, hot-headed fellow. Ah-h-h," and Dr. Power went away, whistling to be sure, as usual, but the air he whistled was slow and plaintive, and his face a shade less cheerful than it was wont to be. But the next time he made his appearance he was brisk and light-hearted as ever; and well he might be, considering what tidings he brought. Four thousand men of the train-bands, under the Duke of Albemarle, had been arrayed near Axminster, and were preparing to meet the invaders; but no sooner did Monmouth's troops appear upon the scene than the train-bands retreated in confusion, without waiting to strike a blow, and the Duke--_our_ Duke--was marching in triumph towards Taunton. It was Dr. Power's opinion that we might expect to see him that very evening. You may fancy the effect of this announcement upon Madame St. Aubert's household. The delight and excitement that reigned there were quite indescribable. Even the scullions in the kitchen were heard uttering distant hurrahs.

'The rest of the day was spent in bustle and preparation. The garden was stripped of all its gayest and choicest flowers, and the usual books, slates, and ink-stands which generally filled the schoolroom gave way to bright heaps of roses, lilies, pansies, and carnations, which were to be turned into wreaths and garlands before the evening. Ah, how well I remember that day!--the laughter and chatter as we worked at the wreaths, and the breathless interest with which we watched them put up afterwards in festoons, over door, balcony, and windows. All the gardens in Taunton must have been plundered, I think, that morning, for, as we looked down the street, every house seemed, like our own, to be absolutely glowing with flowers.

'It was nearly sunset when the sound of drum and fife, the ring of steel, and the even tramp of many feet announced that Monmouth and his army must be at hand; and never shall I forget the storm of cheers that welcomed him as he came riding into the town. It seemed to rise from every street in Taunton; and I suppose it was that I had never heard so many voices together before, but the sound gave me a curious, uncomfortable, half-frightened feeling, as if I must get out of everybody's sight, and cry. However, this was quite out of the question; the balcony where we stood being so much crowded, that it was a hard matter to move one's arms enough to throw down the pinks and roses with which our aprons were filled. The street was thickly lined on each side with people in holiday dress, and all carrying green boughs; and from every window and balcony handkerchiefs and scarves were waving, and flowers were raining down. The Duke looked up and bowed as he passed underneath our windows whereupon Madame St. Aubert gasped out, "O mon roi! mon roi!" and burst into one of her floods of tears; while Bessie, in the violence of her feeling, flung away handkerchief and basket as well as her flowers, and was heard afterwards anxiously questioning every one as to what could possibly have become of them. "Was I not right, Frances? Is he not a noble, gallant prince? Does he not look like a king?" demanded she triumphantly, when the Duke and his white horse could no longer be distinguished. And to this I agreed, with all my heart; as well I might, considering how many older and wiser folks than I had been completely carried away by Monmouth's handsome face and graceful winning manner.

'"Oh Henrietta, if you would only have come out to see him, you would have changed your mind!" Such was the assurance that all the girls repeated over and over again, when Henrietta was hearing a detailed account of the procession from beginning to end; for she had steadily refused to help in the making of the wreaths or to join the party on the balcony, and Madame was far too much pre-occupied to care whether she came or stayed away. A shrug of the shoulders, and a contemptuous "stiff-necked little fool!" was her only attempt at remonstrance. So Henrietta quietly managed to keep out of the way all the afternoon; and when the last man in the procession had passed out of the street, we ran off to find her, and pour out a description of the great sight we had seen, to the only person in the house who had not been a witness of it. She was as much interested, and asked as many questions as we could wish; but all our regrets that she had missed the pageant, and all our protestations that she must have changed her mind had she seen the Duke of Monmouth, only made her smile and shake her head.

'"Indeed, Bessie," she said, "I quite believe that he is as handsome and brave and gallant a gentleman as you say, but that is no proof against what my father told me; and now I know that, I hope that merely to look upon him would not make me change my mind. I suppose a comely face and gentle bearing are not enough to give him a right to the throne, nor to make him a good king, or a good soldier either."

'There was no denying this; nevertheless it made not the slightest impression upon any of us. Madame St. Aubert and Dr. Power believed in the Duke of Monmouth, and we were content to follow their lead. He was our hero, for whom we vowed that we would willingly have laid down our lives, and, at the time, we really fancied that we meant what we said. Next morning, though the flowers had vanished from the schoolroom, books and desks were not yet to be seen in their stead. To-day the first thing that met our eyes as we entered the room was a piece of sky-blue silk spread out upon the middle of the table, and surrounded by innumerable skeins of gold and silver thread, and silks in all the colours of the rainbow. These, Madame told us, were the materials for a banner to be presented to the Duke before his departure from Taunton--"presented by us, our very own selves," as Lucy Fordyce said, clapping her hands with delight.

'"Whoever has a hand in the making of it shall walk in the procession," said Madame, with a smile, as she drew the heap of silks towards her and began to disentangle the skeins.

'We were all feeling rather dull after the intense excitement of the day before, and the working of the banner seemed to be the very thing we felt most inclined to do,--something that could really be done for the Duke,--something that, by our efforts, we might make not unworthy to be offered. These thoughts were enough to revive all our enthusiasm, and to set us to work with an energy and perseverance which, I am afraid, we had never been known before to display in Madame St. Aubert's schoolroom. Pauline proceeded to draw out the pattern, Bessie to sort the silks into heaps of the same colour, but varying in shade; and the little ones were soon busy in winding skeins and threading needles for the whole party. To my own great joy, I was not classed among the "little ones" on the present occasion. Mamma had taught me to embroider very well; and, much as I hated it at home, I was glad to find, when I came to school, that there was one thing at least which I could do better than Agnes Blount,--better, indeed, than most of the girls much older than myself. Henrietta was the only one whom I could not hope to rival; and Henrietta would not help us. We dragged her into the room, and made her admire the soft rich blue of the silk, and the glittering gold and silver, with which it was to be ornamented, and from habit she began to show Mary Seymour how to hold her hand so as not to soil her work; but when she glanced over Pauline's shoulder and saw the pattern that she was copying, she exclaimed, "Oh Pauline!" in a voice of such disapproval and distress that we all looked up surprised.

'"Don't you think a lion and a unicorn will be pretty, Henrietta?" I asked anxiously. "I wanted to have some beautiful gold lilies, like those in that French book Madame showed us; but Bessie said that would not do, because the Duke of Monmouth must have the arms of England."

'"But he is to have a French motto," observed Lucy Fordyce. "And such an easy one. I can translate it quite well: 'God and my Right.' It is all to be written in gold letters. Don't you think it will look very well?"

'"Oh yes, very well indeed," replied Henrietta, with a little smile that seemed to make Bessie quite angry, for she said indignantly;

'"Well, Henrietta, and has he not the best right in the world to the royal arms? Is he not our king already?"

'"Oh, certainly, if wearing our king's colours makes him so; and I think he ought to be proud of having such a devoted subject. But, Bessie dear, I see you have changed your favourite rose colour for blue, which I have often heard you say does not suit you half so well."

'Bessie looked vexed at this speech, and her cheeks flushed for a minute; but then, glancing down at her blue breast-knot with a proud smile, she said enthusiastically, almost defiantly, "I don't care if you do laugh at me. It is the only thing I can do for him."

'"Ah! that is right! That is my own warm-hearted Bessie," cried Pauline, who always expressed her feelings far more openly and strongly than any of the rest of us. "I think it is very right and noble of her to do it, and I would do just the same--only, unfortunately, blue does suit me; so it is no sacrifice." And darting an indignant look at Henrietta, she flew to Bessie's side and bestowed an affectionate kiss on both her cheeks. Pauline's demonstrative ways used to make us all feel rather embarrassed sometimes; and Henrietta especially would become colder and more reserved than ever when Pauline was "attendrie" or "emue," as she expressed it. On the present occasion, however, her eyes twinkled with fun when she saw that Pauline's hasty movement had swept our beautiful banner down to the floor, while all the embroiderers had stopped their work to stare at Bessie, and did not even make an effort to save it.

'"Well, good-bye, Pauline," she said, turning to leave the room; "I won't hinder your work any longer. Your hero's standard is trailing in the dust, which is rather a bad omen; but it was not I that threw it there." And Henrietta vanished, while the rest of the party returned to their work with increased soberness and diligence, but rather less talking than before.

We prospered very well after we had begun: we were all anxious to show Henrietta what we could accomplish, even without her skilful fingers to aid us. Moreover, Madame St. Aubert came to superintend; and, after a time, when lion and unicorn were beginning to stand forth in all their bravery from their gay background, carefully balancing a glistening crown between their uplifted fore-paws, she brought in Dr. Power to see and admire. He praised our needlework to our hearts' content; but when he put on his spectacles to examine the device, he looked almost as grave as Henrietta had done, and gave a sort of subdued whistle of surprise. But Madame St. Aubert whispered something in his ear which caused him to say, "Ah! well, I thought it would come to that; but 'tis a pity--in my opinion 'tis a thousand pities--that the Duke should allow such a decided step to be taken."

'Madame St. Aubert drew herself up as stiffly as if she was going to hear Dr. Power the multiplication-table. "I have the best authority for saying that the measure was recommended by his Grace's most trusted advisers," replied she with dignity.

'Dr. Power looked as puzzled as though he had forgotten that twice one made two, and rubbed his wig till it was quite crooked, before he said, with an air of relief, "Well, Madame, the Scripture hath declared that in the multitude of counsellors there is safety; and so, I hope, it will prove on the present occasion. For myself, I shall certainly be able to say with all my heart, 'God save our King.'"

'I did not in the least understand what was meant by this conversation; and when I pulled Bessie's sleeve and asked her, she said she was not quite sure, and I must wait till to-morrow to know.

'I was not much wiser when the morrow came, and Bessie told me, with a beaming face, that the Duke of Monmouth was going to be proclaimed king in the market-place of Taunton. However, seeing that she looked very glad, I tried to feel glad too, and succeeded completely, when she informed me that, after the proclamation had taken place, our banner was to be presented by the whole school in procession, as the gift of the maids of Taunton.

'"And when--when is it to be, Bessie?" cried several voices.

'"Next Thursday, Madame says; so we have not too much time; but I'll work my fingers to the bone rather than it should not be done."

'We were all of the same mind about this; and work we did, with an energy that astonished even Madame St. Aubert, and that wore holes in some of our thimbles, even if our fingers escaped safe and sound. But were we not repaid for all our trouble on the morning, when Bessie, the leader of a long procession, stood by the market-cross, holding in her hand the staff from which floated our completed banner in all its beauty, just fluttering enough in the wind to show gleams of the red and gold, forming the scroll and tracery which adorned its ample folds? What a crowd filled the market-place! and however one pushed and struggled to catch a glimpse of Bessie, whose bright eyes were brighter than usual, and whose colour came and went every moment with excitement! "How pretty Bessie is!" I whispered to Agnes; "I never knew she was pretty till to-day." "Hush! Hush! the Duke is coming," was all Agnes had time to say, before such a cheer rang through the market-place as I never heard in my life before. It quite drowned the clatter of hoofs, as the Duke of Monmouth and his train came riding through the throng of people, the Duke smiling and bowing to every one as he passed, and having to take off his hat so often, that at last he kept it in his hand, and rode on, bare-headed, up to the market-cross, where he alighted, and, standing on the steps, bowed once more, while the cheers rose higher and higher. And now I thought the important time had come; but Bessie knew better, and waited while one of the Duke's followers, very richly dressed, blew a loud blast on a trumpet--to secure silence, I suppose--and then read in a high, monotonous voice, from a strip of parchment which he held in his hand, a proclamation, of which I could not catch one word. It was only by standing on tip-toe that I could see what was going on; and it was by keeping in this position, and holding fast by Agnes Blount's arm, that I saw how, when the gentleman had finished reading, he waved his hat in the air and shouted "God save the King!" with all his might. It must have been every voice in Taunton, I think, which joined the answering shout of "God save the King! Long live Monmouth, the true heir to the throne! The Protestant succession for ever! Down with the Papists!" I dropped back into my former position, and left my hold on Agnes's shoulder, not quite certain whether I felt most inclined to clap my hands and cheer as Dr. Power was doing, or to stop my ears and sob hysterically, like little Lucy Fordyce, who was quite scared at the noise.

'"Hush, hush, Lucy! don't cry, chérie," whispered Pauline consolingly. "There, it is all over now, Look at mamma: the Duke is going to speak to her. Oh, mon Dieu, what a handsome man! what fire in the eyes!" and Pauline, after good-naturedly putting Lucy into a place where she could see what was going on, relapsed into silence, only occasionally broken by murmured exclamations in French, when her feelings became too much for her.

'Madame St. Aubert knelt on one knee before the Duke, kissed his hand, and presented him with a Bible, splendidly bound in crimson and gold.

'"Ah! qu'il a l'air noble et gracieux! C'est un vrai roi!" cried Pauline below her breath, as the Duke took her mother's hand to raise her from the ground, bowed profoundly over it, and said as he took the gift she offered: "Madame, I have come to defend the truths contained in this book, and to seal them, if so it must be, with my blood."

'I heard these words quite distinctly, in the sudden silence which had followed the cheers; but, after the Duke had finished speaking, the noise grew more deafening than ever. A great many people were sobbing, too, besides Lucy Fordyce, though it could not have been with fright, like her, for they were quite grown-up.

'Dr. Power rubbed his hands together and said, "Right, right: those are the best words that have been spoken yet," quite out loud. And Eleanor Page whispered to Pauline, "I wish Henrietta was here: she would be convinced now."

'And now, at a sign from Madame St. Aubert, the whole school began to move forward, and we all fell into our proper places in the procession. Bessie did not change colour now, nor falter in the least, as she knelt before the Duke and gave the banner into his hand, with the few words which had been arranged beforehand for her to say: "Will your Grace deign to accept all we have to offer you--the best work of our hands, with the best wishes of our hearts?"

'"When you see these colours again, fair mistress," said the Duke, as he clasped the staff in his hand, "I trust they will have waved over a conquered field. We cannot but be victorious who fight under a flag worked by so many fair hands, and accompanied by the wishes of so many kind hearts. In the name of my followers as well as my own, I thank you, and all people of the good town of Taunton, for their faith in me and in my cause. I ask them to keep their faith only a little longer, and it shall be justified. We are in arms for the liberties of England, and for the Protestant religion, and therefore can say, without the shadow of a doubt or scruple, 'May God defend the right!'"

'Bessie's earnest "Amen" was repeated in a sort of shout by many voices, for the Duke spoke in tones clear enough to be heard by all around him. Dr. Power was just going to rub his hands again, but changed his mind, and rubbed one eye instead--very hard indeed--and then looked about him with such a triumphant smile, that I felt exactly as if he was saying, "I told you so. Did I not use almost these very words, young ladies? Let this be impressed upon your minds till the latest hour of your lives." Certainly the impression was made upon mine. I can recollect even now all that happened on that day, down to the most trivial particulars, with a minuteness that would satisfy even Dr. Power himself. But, anxious as he was that it should be so, I am quite sure that he never dreamed what terrible reason we should all have for remembering that twentieth of June to the latest hour of our lives.