Ovingdean Grange by W. Harrison Ainsworth

Behind Colonel Maunsel, in the entrance-hall, appeared all the retainers that could be mustered for the occasion—all, as we have just intimated, in gala attire. None of these, it may be proper to state, had any positive knowledge of the exalted rank of the guest whom their master was about to welcome, though most of them suspected the truth. But though, as we are aware, the whole of the colonel’s household were staunch Royalists, and might have been entrusted with the secret without fear of the consequences, the only one amongst them absolutely confided in was old Martin Geere. Greatly elated, and anxious to maintain his master’s importance, the old serving-man now assumed a consequential manner and dignified deportment quite unlike his ordinary bearing. He was provided with a wand to marshal the household, and enable him to act as sort of usher in the approaching ceremony.

At the precise moment when the old Cavalier appeared at the doorway, attended as we have described, Charles entered the gate of the mansion, Clavering respectfully retiring as the monarch advanced, and Lord Wilmot and Colonel Philips holding back, so that the king might be left alone. Notwithstanding the disguise adopted by the royal wanderer, and the change effected in his general appearance, Colonel Maunsel instantly recognised him, and, taking off his hat, advanced slowly and with great dignity, but with the most profound respect, to meet him and give him welcome. If Charles had come there in the plenitude of his power, in gorgeous apparel, and attended by a brilliant bevy of courtiers, instead of as a proscribed fugitive, and scantily attended, Colonel Maunsel could not have shown him greater reverence. It was with great difficulty that he prevented himself from bending the knee to the young king, and it was only, indeed, a gesture from Charles that restrained him. Contenting himself, therefore, with making a profound obeisance, he said, with a look that conveyed all he did not dare to utter, “Welcome, sir! thrice welcome to Ovingdean Grange. My poor dwelling is honoured indeed by the presence of such a guest.”

“I thank you most heartily for your welcome, Colonel Maunsel,” replied Charles. “But it is far more than I merit. I have no other claim upon your attention save this—and it is much, I own,” he added, with some significance—”that you were warmly attached to my father.”

“No man more so, sir,” replied the old Cavalier, emphatically—”no man more so. But pardon me if I say that your claims upon me are equal to those of your much-honoured, much-lamented sire.”

“You are pleased to say so, colonel,” observed the king, “and I thank you for the assurance. But a truce to claims real or imaginary! Allow me to see the interior of your mansion, which, if it corresponds with the outside, must be well worth inspection.”

“‘Tis a comfortable old house, quite sufficient for a plain country gentleman like myself, sir,” replied the colonel; “and if I am able to keep it up I shall be quite content. But the fines and confiscations of the rogues in power have wellnigh ruined me.”

“Ay, ay, we are alike in misfortune, Colonel Maunsel,” observed the king. “You have lost much—I have lost all. But better days, I trust, are in store for both of us.”

“I trust so, sir,” the old Cavalier replied. “But now, I pray you, deign to enter my humble dwelling. And you, too, gentlemen,” he added, saluting the others. “Clavering, I am right glad to see thee, boy. Thy turn will come anon. Meantime, welcome thy father’s guests, and show them in.”

So saying, and respectfully retiring before the king, taking especial care not to turn his back upon his Majesty, the old Cavalier moved towards the house. His master’s gestures were imitated by Martin Geere, but so unsuccessfully, that, in retreating somewhat too hastily, he came in contact with the steps, and tumbled backwards, amidst the titters of the rest of the serving-men. Charles would willingly have dispensed with so much ceremony, but aware of the punctilious character of his host, he did not like to put a stop to it. In this way he was ushered into the house, and compelled to take precedence of the others, who held back until he had entered.