“I accept your offer, gentlemen,” said the prince. “I did not calculate on such good company.”
“We may be of use to your majesty on the journey,” remarked Captain Wogan.
“I doubt it not,” said the prince. “Will you go with me?” he added to Forster.
“I pray your majesty to excuse me,” replied the squire. “I must frankly own I would rather not be engaged in the expedition.”
“As you please, sir,” said the prince, with affected indifference. “I can do very well without you.”
“I see that I have not made myself understood, my liege,” said Forster. “I am ready to fight for you, and if need be, die for you, but I will not be instrumental in delivering you to your enemies.”
“Ah! I see I have done you an injustice,” said the prince.
The conversation then took another turn, and a good deal of curiosity was manifested both by Sir John Webb and Colonel Oxburgh as to the prince’s future plans, but his highness displayed considerable reserve on this point, and did not choose to gratify them. Indeed, he soon afterwards retired, and Lord Derwentwater went with him, leaving Charles Radclyffe to attend to the company.
Those were hard-drinking days, and the Jacobites were as fond of good claret, as their predecessors the Cavaliers. We are afraid to say how many magnums were emptied on the occasion, but before the party broke up, which it did not do till a late hour, a general resolution was come to, that a more strenuous effort should be made on the morrow, to induce his majesty to forego his ill-advised journey to London, and instead of endangering his safety by such a senseless attempt, to set up his standard, and summon all his adherents to join him. Then he might proceed to London, as soon as he pleased.
A loud shout, with which his majesty’s name was coupled, concluded a vehement harangue made by Colonel Oxburgh, and the party broke up.
Some of them retired to rest, but Tom Forster and two or three others adjourned to a smaller room not far from the butler’s pantry; where a bowl of capital punch was provided for them by Newbiggin.
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XI
A Mysterious Occurrence in the Chapel
ANNA WEBB submitted unrepiningly to the penance enjoined by Father Norman. She remained in her own room, and was not distracted by a visit either from her mother, or Dorothy. Some refreshments were brought her by a female servant, but they were untouched. Several hours were thus passed in solitude and prayer, and night had come on. She wondered when the priest would come, according to his promise, to take her to the chapel.
At length, he appeared, and desired her to follow him. Wishing to avoid the servants, who were crowded in the great hall, he led her down a back staircase to a small room on the ground floor, where he obtained a lantern. In another minute, they had crossed the court, and reached the door of the chapel.
The little structure, it has been said, was screened by trees, and the place was so dark, it would have been difficult to find the door, save with the lantern’s aid.
A slight shiver ran through Anna’s frame as she entered the building, but she attributed the feeling to the damp atmosphere. Meanwhile, Father Norman had lighted a couple of tapers at the altar, and their feeble glimmer enabled her to survey the place.
Its simplicity and diminutive size pleased her, and reassured her. Knowing she would have to remain there alone till midnight, she might have felt some misgivings had the room been large and sombre. Fortunately, she was not aware that there was a vault beneath, in which rested the earl’s ancestors. Marble tablets were on the walls, but she did not read them.
After an exhortation, to which she listened devoutly, the priest withdrew. Thus left alone, she knelt down at the altar, and was soon engrossed in prayer.
For awhile she continued thus employed, but at length a feeling of drowsiness came over her, which she found it impossible to resist.
How long she slept she could not tell, but when she awoke the place was buried in darkness.