“I am certain the Pretender is in the carriage, Sir William,” he said.
“Then find him,” cried the sheriff.
“Ay, find him, fellow, if you can,” added Sir John, derisively.
“He is here,” cried Jesmond, pointing to the footman, a tall, handsome young man.
An exclamation from Sir John was checked by her ladyship, who made a private sign to the footman to hold his tongue.
“You are not making a second blunder, I trust?” said the sheriff.
“No, no! rest easy, Sir William! All right now! I didn’t recognise him at first in his disguise. But now I’ll swear to him.”
“You will swear that I am the Chevalier de Saint George, whom you call the Pretender?” cried the footman.
“I will,” said Jesmond.
Again Sir John would have interfered, if a look from her ladyship had not kept him quiet.
“You need have no hesitation, Sir William,” said Jesmond. “I will take all consequences on my own head.”
“But your head is nothing,” rejoined the sheriff.
After a moment’s consideration, he told Sir John Webb he must turn back, and accompany him to Newcastle.
Sir John protested vehemently against the order, and declared it would put him to the greatest inconvenience.
“I cannot help that,” said the sheriff. “I own I am somewhat perplexed, but a great responsibility rests with me, and I am afraid of committing an error.”
“Then I warn you that you will commit a very great error indeed, if you take me to Newcastle,” said Sir John.
“We are wasting time here,” cried the sheriff. “Your ladyship will be pleased to re-enter the carriage,” he added, in a polite, but authoritative tone to Lady Webb-“and you, Sir John.”
The women servants followed, and the footman was about to shut the door, when the sheriff told him he must get in likewise.
Finding Sir John was about to resist the intrusion, Jesmond pushed the young man in, vociferating in a mocking voice:
“Room for his majesty, King James the Third!”
Irritated to the last point, Sir John would certainly have resented the insult if Lady Webb had not held him fast.
She could not, however, prevent him from putting his head from the window, and shouting out to the sheriff:
“Where is this farce to end, Sir William?”
“Most likely at the Tower of London,” was the sarcastic reply.
“Make no rejoinder, Sir John,” said Lady Webb. “You’ll have the laugh against him by-and-bye.”
The coach was then turned round, and guarded by the troop of yeomen, proceeded slowly towards Newcastle.
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III
Lord Widdrington
VERY different was the progress of the prince and his party from that made by the occupants of the coach. While the latter were crawling along the highway, the others were flying across the country, as if chasing the deer.
Over broad wide moors they speeded-across valley, and through wood-past ancient castles, and along the banks of rushing streams-allowing nothing to stop them-not even the Picts’ wall, through a gap in which they dashed-till after traversing many a wild and waste such as only can be seen in Northumberland, they came in sight of the great German Ocean, and the rugged coast that bounds it.
Sixteen miles and upwards had been accomplished in a marvellously short space of time, but then all were well mounted. Throughout this long stretch, Anna, who we have said rode splendidly, kept by the side of Lord Derwentwater, and as he led the way, she shared any risk he might run.
A pretty sight it was to see them together, and drew forth the admiration of those who followed in their course. Somehow or other, they got ahead, and the Prince and Dorothy Forster, who were next behind, made no effort to come up with them. The rest of the party kept well together.
At length a point was reached from which, as we have just mentioned, the broad expanse of the ocean could be surveyed. On the right was Camboise Bay, spreading out with all its rocky headlands as far as Tynemouth and South Shields. On the left was Druridge Bay with Coquet Island in the distance. Behind them a few miles off was Morpeth, with the ruins of its castle, and its old church, and beyond Morpeth lay the wild district they had traversed.
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