“Have patience,” said Colonel Oxburgh. “Depend upon it we shan’t remain long idle. His majesty will be forced to make a move of some kind.”
Long before the hour appointed for the betrothal, the little chapel was filled. All the household craved permission to witness the ceremony, and none were refused. The guests entered at the same time, and found places where they could. But little room was left, as may be imagined, when all these persons were accommodated. In the large pew were the prince with Charles Radclyffe, Mr. Forster and his sister-the latter looking bright and blooming as usual.
Lord Derwentwater was standing at the door of the little edifice in momentary expectation of the arrival of her to whom he was about to be affianced. She came, leaning on her father’s arm, and attended by her mother-not decked in bridal attire-not draped in a bridal veil-for such adornments would have been unsuitable to the occasion, but arrayed in a charming costume of azure satin and lace.
After salutations had passed, Sir John Webb consigned his lovely daughter to the earl, and followed them with Lady Webb.
An irrepressible murmur of admiration burst forth as the youthful pair moved towards the altar, where they immediately knelt down, and a group was formed behind them of which the prince was the principal figure-his highness having come with the others from the pew.
Not till a prayer was recited could the spectators obtain a glimpse of the scene at the altar, and if this was quickly hidden from their sight they heard the vow pronounced that bound the pair together, and they likewise heard Father Norman’s benediction.
Those near the altar saw the earl embrace his affianced bride as they rose together, and some of them remarked that she looked strangely pale. Only for a minute, for her colour quickly returned. The prince, however, noticed the circumstance, and so did Dorothy. But both attributed it to deep emotion.
Nothing whatever marred the ceremony, the sole fault of which, in the opinion of the majority of those present, was that it was too brief.
Several of the household grouped themselves on either side of the path leading to the gate to offer their good wishes to the newly-affianced pair as they passed by. Among these were old Nicholas Ribbleton, and an elderly dame who, like himself, had lived in the family for years.
“Eh! she’s a bonnie lass!” cried this old woman, after scrutinising her sharply. “But I doubt if she’ll make his lordship happy. He had better have chosen Dorothy Forster.”
“Why, what ails her?” said Ribbleton.
“I cannot exactly tell-but there’s a look about her I don’t like.”
“Well, it’s too late to change now, Grace,” observed Ribbleton. “The troth is plighted.”
“Ay, that’s the worst of it,” rejoined the old woman. “But a time may come, when his lordship will wish what’s done were undone.”
This was the only discordant note uttered, and it reached no other ear but Ribbleton’s, and him it made angry. So he walked off, and left the old prophetess of ill to herself.
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XIV
The Spy
THE rest of the day was spent in festivity and amusement.
Lord Derwentwater and his affianced bride did not stray beyond the garden, and seemed so perfectly happy in each other’s society that no one went near them.
The prince explored the mysterious glen, and Charles Radclyffe acted as his guide, introducing him to all the beauties of the place, and relating all the legends connected with it. A large party accompanied his highness, including Lady Webb and Dorothy Forster-the latter of whom had often seen the place before, but was quite as much enchanted with it as ever.
The visit to this picturesque dell, which has been previously described, occupied some time, for there was a great deal to be seen. But neither the prince, nor any of those with him, were aware, that while they were tracking the course of the Devil’s Water over its rocky channel, or standing near the pool, they were watched by a person concealed amid the brushwood on its banks.
This person was an emissary of Sir William Lorraine of Bywell Park, high sheriff of the county, and a strong supporter of the Government. That very morning, Sir William had received the astounding information that the Pretender had arrived at Dilston Castle, and that a rising in his favour was imminent among the gentlemen of the county; but as the news came from a suspicious source, the high sheriff, though alarmed, did not entirely credit it, and before taking any active measures-such as raising a posse-comitatûs, or calling out the militia-he determined to send a couple of spies to Dilston to ascertain the truth of the report.