Chapter II: A Warrant Issued for the Earl's Arrest (1)

|At length the mandate came.

A letter arrived from the Chevalier de Saint George enjoining the Earl of Derwentwater to prepare for immediate action.

“So soon as the standard is set up in Scotland by Mar, you must rise,” ran the missive.

Aware that the earl had received a despatch from France, the countess flew to his cabinet, and found him pacing to and fro within it, in a state of great perturbation.

“Read that,” he said, giving her the letter.

Her cheeks flushed as she scanned it, and she exclaimed almost joyfully:

“You will obey his majesty's orders. There must be no hesitation now. If there is one man in England on whose zeal and fidelity King James ought to be able to count, it is the Earl of Derwentwater, with whom he is connected by birth, and whom he regards as a brother. Would you disappoint all the hopes he has formed of you! Shake off this worse than womanish weakness if you would not have me despise you.”

“No more!” cried the earl, almost fiercely. “You have said enough. You have hardened my breast. I care not now what ensues.”

“I am glad I have roused you,” she cried. “Had you been wanting in the hour of action, you would have been deemed a traitor to your king, and have lost the respect of all honourable men.”

Just then Father Norham entered the room.

“I fear I have come at an unlucky moment,” he said, perceiving from their looks that some misunderstanding had occurred between them; “and I would at once retire, had I not important news to communicate. I have just received private information from Newcastle that a warrant has been issued for your lordship's arrest on a charge of high treason. The officers will be here to-morrow, and as they will be accompanied by a party of horse-militia, you must either resist them or keep out of the way. Since you are not fully prepared for a rising, I would counsel the latter course.”

“And I advise resistance,” said the countess.

“No--that would precipitate the outbreak,” said the earl. “I must concert measures with my friends ere I take up arms.”

“You cannot remain in the castle, my lord,” said the priest. “A most rigorous search will be made, and if you are discovered, you will be apprehended and placed in confinement.”

“Where shall I find a secure retreat?” said the earl.

“You ought not to be too far off, in case of a sudden emergency,” said the countess.

“Your lordship would be perfectly safe in Nathan the woodcutter's hut in the thicket,” said the priest. “No one will seek you there--and even if the place should be visited, you can easily escape into the wood.”

“Nathan Blacklaw is a trusty fellow,” said the earl. “I can perfectly depend upon him. His hut will afford me an excellent hiding-place. When inquiries are made for me, the servants can say that I am gone to visit some Roman Catholic friends in Lancashire. The statement will be credited, since the magistrates must have learnt that Lord Widdrington is now staying with his brother-in-law, Mr. Townley, of Townley, in that county. I will now go and see Nathan Blacklaw, and direct him to prepare for me to-morrow morning.”

“Take me with you, I entreat!” said the countess. “I should like to see how you will be lodged in the hut. I wish I could bear you company.”

“Alas! that cannot be!” sighed the earl. “Your presence would reconcile me to any inconvenience. But it would infallibly lead to my discovery. Besides, you must be at the castle to see how things go on, and communicate with me.”

“I quite understand,” she replied.

“When my brother returns from Corbridge, acquaint him with my purpose,” said the earl to Father Norham. “I do not think he is in any danger of arrest.”

“I have received no caution respecting Mr. Charles Radclyffe,” said the priest. “I believe your lordship to be the only person threatened. But I may hear further at night, as I expect a second messenger.”

“Long before then Charles will have returned,” said the earl. “And now for the hut,” he added to the countess. “I have a melancholy foreboding that when I once quit the castle I shall never come back to it.”

“Dismiss these thoughts, my dear lord,” said the priest, “Rest assured that better days are in store for you.”

III.--THE WOODCUTTER'S HUT

|Passing through the garden, the earl and countess took a path that led them along the rocky edge of the ravine, at the bottom of which flowed the Devil's Water.

At length they reached the wood and entered a sombre alley arched over by boughs and designated the “Maiden's Walk.”

According to a legend connected with the place, a phantom wearing the form of a beautiful female was sometimes seen in the alley, and the appearance of the “Maiden” was thought to bode ill to any member of the Radclyffe family.

Not without some superstitious terror did the earl track this darksome walk. He had often been there, but had never beheld the phantom, but this seemed an occasion when, if ever, the Maiden might be expected to appear.

At the end of the alley a narrow path turned off on the left that brought them, after several windings, to an open space in the heart of the thicket. Here stood the hut; and thus buried, it was not likely that the little habitation would be discovered unless its situation were pointed out.

As the noble pair drew near the hut, a savage growl was heard, and a large, fierce-looking dog rushed from behind a great stack of wood. The moment, however, the savage animal beheld the earl he became quiet and crouched at his feet.

At the same time the woodcutter made his appearance.

Nathan Blacklaw was strongly built, and had a manly, resolute look. On his shoulder he carried a hatchet, and his costume consisted of a leather jacket, a leather cap, and long leather gaiters, reaching considerably above the knee. He had come forward on hearing his dog bark, and immediately recognizing the earl and countess, doffed his cap and made a rough obeisance.

“Cheviot knows me as well as you do, Nathan,” observed the earl, patting the dog's large head.

“Ay, he wad na ha' allowed any one but your lordship and my lady to come nigh the hut,” said the wood-cutter.

“You must find him a good companion in this solitary spot, Nathan,” remarked the countess.

“'Deed I do, my lady. I dunna know what I and my dame should do without Cheviot.”

“We have come to have a look at the hut, Nathan,” said the earl. “Show us inside it, will you?”

Just then a good-looking woman--not more than thirty-five--plainly, yet not unbecomingly dressed, came forth.

Without any hesitation or embarrassment, Dame Black-law at once ushered the noble pair into the cottage.

Necessarily it was very small, but it looked clean and tidy. It contained only a couple of rooms: in the largest, on which the door opened, the inmates had their meals; it was furnished with a chest of drawers, a small oak table, an arm-chair, a rush-bottomed chair, and a settee.

Besides these there was a clock, and in one corner was a cupboard containing pewter plates, three or four drinking-mugs, certain articles of crockery, and a brace of squat-looking Dutch bottles. Fixed against the wall on the side opposite the cupboard was a crucifix, for Nathan and his wife were Papists. On the hearth burnt a cheerful wood fire, and above it hung a large iron pot. Over the mantelpiece was placed a gun. The inner room, about half the size of the other, held the bed of the worthy couple, who had no family.

“What will you say, dame, when I tell you that I am coming to spend a few days with you?” remarked the earl.

“Your lordship is pleased to jest,” she replied, with a smile. “It isn't very likely you will stay here.”

“Likely or not, you may expect me to-morrow morning,” said the earl.

She held up her hands in astonishment.

“To speak plainly, I don't find it safe at the castle,” said the earl. “If I remain there I shall be arrested, so I mean to take refuge in your cottage.”

“I thought as much,” cried Nathan. “I shall be proud, indeed, to afford your lordship a hiding-place, and I think you will be quite safe here.”

“The magistrates are coming with a party of horse-militia to-morrow, and as they won't find me at the castle, they are sure to make a strict search in the neighbourhood.”

“Let 'em try. We'll baffle 'em,” said the woodcutter.

“But however shall we accommodate his lordship?” said

Dame Blacklaw to the countess. “He won't condescend to occupy our bed.”

“Give yourself no trouble about me, dame,” interposed the earl. “I can sleep very well in that arm-chair. With Cheviot to watch over me, I shall fear no nocturnal intruder.”

“Your lordship will have timely warning should any one come near the place. Of that you may rest assured,” said the woodcutter.

Having made all the arrangements he thought necessary, the earl then left with the countess. His parting injunction to the woodcutter and his wife was to look out for him early in the morning, and not to breathe a word to any one that they expected him.

IV.--THE MAIDEN'S WALK.

|Despite his melancholy forebodings, the earl little dreamed this would be the last night he should ever pass at the castle. He attended mass in the little chapel, and held a long consultation with his brother, Charles Rad-clyffe, who had now returned from Corbridge, as to the best steps to be taken.

“'Tis unlucky that our friends are scattered at this moment,” said the earl. “Had we been able to unite, instead of flying from arrest, we might have attacked Newcastle, and, if we had succeeded in capturing the place, we should have been masters of the county.”

“This may yet be accomplished,” said Charles Radclyffe.

“Not unless we can get together a sufficient force,” said the earl. “Forster and Lord Widdrington may not like to make the attempt, as I know they both deem it very hazardous. We shall hear what Widdrington says on his return from Lancashire.”

“Shall I appoint a meeting if I can find means of communicating with them?” asked Charles Radclyffe. “And where shall the place of rendezvous be fixed?”

“At Plainfield or thereabouts,” replied the earl. “Ten days hence I will be there, unless I am prevented, and will bring with me all the men I can muster.”

“I will find some means of sending this information to Forster,” said Charles Radclyffe, “and he will communicate with Widdrington. If the Earl of Mar would send us a Highland regiment it would help us greatly. Shall I write to him in your name?”

“Do so without delay,” said the earl. “The rising will never be successful unless our force is materially strengthened.”

“All your instructions shall be attended to,” said Charles Radclyffe, “and I trust nothing will go wrong to-morrow.”

The rest of the evening was spent in affectionate converse by the earl and countess. There were no guests in the house, so they sat together till supper, when they were joined by Charles Radclyffe and Father Nor-ham.

The countess was in excellent spirits, and laughed at the threatened visit of the magistrates. If the earl was not equally free from apprehension, he contrived to assume a cheerful aspect.

Next morning, soon after daybreak, Lord Denventwater arose. The countess was still slumbering, but before he took his departure he stooped down to print a kiss on her brow. Instantly awakened, she flung her arms round his neck and bade him adieu.

“I have had a very happy dream,” she said; “and I hope it may come true. I thought the king was restored, and chiefly by your instrumentality.”

“Much has to be done ere that can be accomplished,” rejoined the earl. “But I do not despair.”

“I wish you could remain here, and resist the officers,” she said. “How pleased I should be to see them driven hence!”

“There is no chance of such a result,” said the earl. “We must bide our time. In a few days we shall take the field.”

Tenderly embracing her, he then quitted the room.

None of the household were astir as Lord Derwentwater went forth. He gave one look at the mansion, heaved a deep sigh, and proceeded towards the wood.

The morning was grey and misty, the trees in the park could scarcely be distinguished, and the brook at the bottom of the glen was hidden by vapour.

Gloomy thoughts likewise possessed him, and as he tracked the sombre alley, he thought he beheld a female figure, arrayed in white, advancing towards him.

Not doubting it was the Maiden, he instantly stopped.

In another moment the phantom stood before him. Its looks were sad and compassionate, but it spoke not, and terror kept him dumb.

After remaining thus transfixed for a few moments, he broke the spell and moved forwards, but the phantom waved him back, and he again halted.

With another warning gesture, accompanied by a look of indescribable pity, the figure vanished.

Not for some minutes after issuing from the alley, did the earl recover from the shock he had received, and he was still leaning for support against a tree, when he was roused by the approach of the woodcutter and his dog.

“I fear your lordship is unwell?” remarked Nathan.

“No,” replied the earl, “but I have been much alarmed. I have just seen the Maiden.”

“Then I don't wonder your lordship is disturbed,” said the woodcutter. “May I venture to ask what occurred?”

“The spirit warned me to turn back,” said the earl. “But it is now too late.”

The woodcutter made no remark, but seemed to think that the warning ought not to be neglected.

On reaching the hut, Lord Derwentwater threw himself into the arm-chair and presently fell asleep. Nor did he awake for some hours.

During this interval, Dame Blacklaw moved about as noiselessly as she could, so as not to disturb him--Cheviot crouched at his feet--and Nathan went on with his work outside; but he left it, ever and anon, for a short space, while he flew to the skirts of the woods to reconnoitre.

V.--HOW CHARLES RADCLYFFE PROVOKED SIR WILLIAM LORRAINE.

|About nine o'clock on the same morning, the Newcastle magistrates arrived at the castle. They were attended by certain subordinate officers, armed with sword and pistol, and by a party of horse-militia.

As the gate had been thrown wide open by the porter, they all rode into the court, and the chief persons--three in number--proceeded to the entrance and dismounted.

Among them was Sir William Lorraine, who, though he had long ceased to be high sheriff, was still a magistrate. As on the former expedition, Sir William was accompanied by his active agent, Jesmond, who was determined not to be duped on the present occasion. While the magistrates and the others entered the court, Jesmond and his comrade Hedgeley fastened up their horses and proceeded to the garden to look about them.

As may well be supposed, the noise and clatter caused by this large party of horsemen, had brought forth all the servants, and when the magistrates dismounted at the steps, they were met by Newbiggin and two or three others.

In return to their obeisances, Sir William, as the principal magistrate, said in a loud authoritative tone to Newbiggin:

“Conduct us at once to the Earl of Derwentwater. We hold a warrant for his arrest.”

“His lordship is not within,” replied the butler, with formal politeness.

“Where is he?” demanded Sir William. “We must see him.”

“I don't see how that can be managed, Sir William, seeing that his lordship is in Lancashire,” rejoined Newbiggin.

“In Lancashire!” exclaimed Sir William. “He must have travelled very quickly. I know he was here yesterday.”

“Yes, Sir William, but he intended to ride throughout the night, and I make no doubt he is in Lancashire this morning.”

“Then he has fled?”

“Pardon me, Sir William, he has gone on a visit to some of his Roman Catholic friends.”

“Harkee, sirrah!” cried Mr. Woodburn, another of the magistrates. “Take care how you attempt to deceive us. You will not go unpunished.”

“Perhaps you would like to see her ladyship, gentlemen--or Mr. Charles Radclyffe?” said Mr. Newbiggin.

“It will be necessary to see them both, and to search the house as well,” said Mr. Woodburn.

“You will be good enough to state your wishes to her ladyship, sir,” rejoined the butler. “I dare say she will make no objection. Be pleased to step this way, gentlemen.”

He then conducted them across the hall to the diningroom, where they found Lady Derwentwater, Mr. Charles Radclyffe and Father Norham at breakfast.

Her ladyship looked very charming in her morning toilette, and seemed in no way discomposed by the entrance of the magistrates. Still holding the cup of chocolate, from which she was sipping, she arose and made them a formal courtesy.

“These gentlemen are Newcastle magistrates, my lady,” said the butler significantly.

“I understand,” she replied. “You have explained that his lordship is not at home?”

“Yes, my lady; but they are not content with my assurance.”

“Your ladyship must be fully aware,” said Sir William, sententiously, “that the Earl of Derwentwater has incurred the suspicion of Government, and will not therefore be surprised to learn that we hold a warrant for his arrest. We cannot depart without him.”

“That implies a doubt as to the truth of the statement you have just heard, that his lordship is not at home,” observed the countess.

“Where her husband's safety is concerned a wife may perhaps consider herself justified in duping the authorities,” remarked Sir William. “If I seem to doubt your ladyship's word, you must excuse me.”

“Then I will say no more, but leave you to take your own course,” she rejoined.

“We will put your ladyship to as little inconvenience as we can,” said Mr. Woodburn. “But we must search the house.”

“Search as much as you please, gentlemen, you will be disappointed,” remarked Charles Radclyffe. “I will give you my head if you find Lord Derwentwater here.”

“I know you to be a man of honour, sir,” said Sir William, “and therefore am inclined to believe you.”

“Inclined to believe me, sir!” exclaimed Charles Radclyffe, furiously. “'Sdeath, sir, you _shall_ believe me, or render an immediate account of your incredulity.”

“If you have a quarrel to arrange, pray step out upon the lawn,” remarked Lady Derwentwater.

“At any other time, I should not refuse Mr. Charles Radclyffe's challenge,” said Sir William. “But just now I have a duty to perform, and shall not be deterred by an idle threat. I must again express my conviction that Lord Derwentwater is concealed in the house.”

“Then make a careful search, Sir William,” said the countess. “And if you cannot disprove Mr. Charles Radclyffe's assertion, you are bound to offer him an apology.”

Turning to Father Norham, she added, “Your reverence will be good enough to conduct these gentlemen over the house. Go with them, likewise, Newbiggin.”

“I shall take leave to make one of the party,” said Charles Radclyffe.

Thereupon, they quitted the dining-room, leaving the countess alone.

This was the second time that Sir William Lorraine had made a perquisition of the house, and he was able, therefore, to get through the business with despatch. But he had to brook a great many insolent observations from Charles Radclyffe, who lost no opportunity of provoking him. The search occupied more than an hour, and when it was concluded, and the magistrates were obliged to confess their failure, Charles burst into a contemptuous laugh, and said:

“This is on a par with your great feat at Bamborough, Sir William, which gained you so much reputation in the county, when you were high sheriff.”

“You do well to remind me of the trick played upon me at that time,” said Sir William, greatly exasperated. “I have not forgotten it, though Mr. Forster and some others may wish I had. I think, sir, you will be safest at Newcastle, and since I cannot secure Lord Derwentwater, I will take you with me, and hold you as a hostage for your brother.”

“Do not imagine I will accompany you, Sir William,” said Charles.

“You will have no option,” rejoined the other. “You will be taken as a prisoner.”

“I scarcely think so,” said Charles. “You have no warrant, and I will resist any attempt to arrest me.”

This angry colloquy took place in the hall, and was overheard by several of the servants, who were ready to rush to Charles Radclyffe's assistance should he need them.

Just then Jesmond and Hedgeley came in, and the magistrates called out to them.

Profiting by this interval, Father Norham urged the rash young man to fly, and he yielded to the counsel.

Drawing his sword, he ran along a passage communicating with the terrace. But he was quickly followed both by the magistrates and the officers, and it seemed that a conflict would take place on the terrace, for the servants were likewise hurrying to the same spot.

The windows of the dining-room, in which the countess was still sitting, commanded the scene of action, and hearing a noise she came forward to see what was taking place.

She beheld Charles Radclyffe standing there, with his drawn sword, threatening any one who approached him. Feeling however, that if any catastrophe occurred the consequences would be disastrous, he formed a different resolution, and at once acted upon it.

Springing to the side of the terrace, that bordered the ravine, he flung his sword into the hollow, and then plunged down the rocky sides of the abyss, certain no one would follow him in this perilous descent.

Those who looked down from the terrace, saw him reach the banks of the Devil's Water in safety, pick up his sword, and then disappear among the bushes.

Jesmond, who had drawn a pistol, would have fired at him, but this Sir William Lorraine would not allow.

“Capture him, if you can,” he said. “But he must not be wounded--unless he resists.”

But it did not appear likely that anything more would be seen of him.

VI.--HOW CHARLES RADCLYFFE JOINED THE EARL AT THE HUT.

|AFTER slumbering tranquilly for three or four hours in the arm-chair Lord Derwentwater roused himself, and breakfasted with a very good appetite on the simple fare provided for him by Dame Blacklaw.

He next occupied himself in examining some papers which he carried in a small portfolio, and was still thus employed when Cheviot, who had never left him, suddenly raised his head, and gave a low growl.

“He hears something,” observed Dame Blacklaw. “But there can be no danger, or Nathan would have come to warn your lordship.”

After listening for a moment, Cheviot got up and began to whine, and the door being opened, he rushed forth and a joyous bark was instantly heard outside.

Curious to learn who was there, Lord Derwentwater hastily put up his papers, and went out.

To his great surprise, he found the new-comer was his brother, who told him in a few words what had taken place, and though the earl blamed him for his imprudence, he felt greatly enraged against Sir William Lorraine.

“I should like to drive these magistrates from the castle,” he said.

“If you are of that mind, it may still be done,” rejoined Charles. “But for your express orders to the contrary, I would have shut the gates, and shown them fight.”

“But no preparations had been made,” said the earl.

“There you are mistaken,” returned Charles. “I was quite ready. All the tenants and retainers are stationed at the farm; all the horses have been taken there; all the arms and ammunition have been removed from the old tower, and deposited in one of the barns; all the grooms and active men-servants are likewise at the farm.”

“And you have done all this without consulting me?” cried the earl.

“It was done at the urgent request of the countess,” replied Charles. “She said, 'It is not fitting that the Earl of Derwentwater should hide in hovels, when the gentry are in arms for their lawful sovereign. It shall never be said that the officers came to Dilston to arrest him, and were allowed to depart as they came. If no one else will do it, I will drive them hence. I disuaded her from this bold step, but I agreed to get all ready with the design of effecting your rescue if you should fall into their hands.”

“You have done well, Charles,” cried the earl, “and I thank you. Let us to the farm at once, and if the enemy are still at the castle we will soon expel them.”

“This resolution is worthy of you, my lord,” said Charles. “I fear your flight might have been misconstrued.”

Thinking Nathan might be useful, the earl bade him follow, and hastened away with his brother.

VII.--HOW THE MAGISTRATES AND THE MILITIAMEN WERE FORCED TO QUIT THE CASTLE.

|The farm to which reference has just been made, lay on the other side of the castle, and was distant about half a mile from the woodcutter's hut.

The earl and his companions, however, proceeded so expeditiously that they were soon there, but as they were tracking a lane that led to the farm buildings they encountered a man, who had evidently been reconnoitring the place, and instantly secured him.

This proved to be Jesmond, and though armed, he did not offer any resistance--probably thinking it would be useless. Disarming him, and giving the weapons to Nathan, the earl told the latter to shoot the man if he attempted to fly.

An additional guard was found in Cheviot, who had followed his master, and cut off all chance of the prisoner's escape.

In some respects this was an important capture, and the earl hoped to turn it to account. At any rate, he had ascertained that the party were still at the castle, and felt sure he should take them by surprise.

On entering the farm-yard the earl found between thirty and forty stalwart yeomen collected there.

All of them had got good strong horses, and had pistols in their holsters and swords by the side. With them were half a dozen grooms. The sight of these sturdy fellows sent a thrill through the earl's breast, and he reproached himself with not having confided to them the defence of the castle. They would have set up a shout on his appearance, but he checked them. Very few minutes sufficed to arrange matters. All the yeomen were quickly in the saddle.

Mounted on his favourite dapple-grey steed, which had been brought to the farmyard, the Earl of Derwentwater put himself at the head of his troop, and bade them follow him to the castle--but ere they arrived there they received an important reinforcement.

Colonel Oxburgh, Captain Wogan, and the rest of that gallant little band, who still held together, were then at Hexham, and having learnt that the magistrates of Newcastle, attended by a party of horse-militia, designed to arrest Lord Derwentwater, they set off to the earl's assistance, and arrived in the very nick of time.

They were galloping up the chestnut avenue at the very time when the earl brought his troop from the farm. An immediate explanation took place; and on hearing how matters stood, Colonel Oxburgh exclaimed, “I think we can take them prisoners.”

They then rode quickly forward, and finding that the whole of the militiamen were in the court, they drew up in front of the gate, so as to prevent the departure of the intruders.

After this successful manouvre, which was very quickly executed, Lord Derwentwater and the principal persons with him advanced into the court.

Here all was confusion and dismay. Most of the militiamen had dismounted, and were scattered about the court in a very disorderly manner.

While their leader was shouting to them to mount, Lord Derwentwater dashed up to him, and seizing his bridle, demanded his sword.

The officer held back for a moment, but seeing that the gate was strongly guarded, and retreat impossible, he yielded, and the men did not seem inclined to offer any further opposition.

Hitherto the magistrates had been inside the house, but they now came forth to see what was going on, and no sooner had they done so than the door was shut and barred behind them.

They were contemplating the scene with dismay, when Lord Derwentwater and his friends came up.

“The tables are turned, you perceive, gentlemen,” said the earl, in a mocking tone. “You have come here to arrest me, and are made prisoners yourselves.”

“But your lordship won't detain us,” rejoined Sir William.

“I have no wish to put you to inconvenience, but I shall not let you go, unless you engage to return direct to Newcastle.”

After a short consultation with his brother magistrates, Sir William said, “We agree.”

“You must also deliver up the warrant, and undertake that no further attempt shall be made to arrest me,” said the earl.

“Your lordship must feel that we cannot enter into such an engagement,” replied Mr. Woodburn. “We will deliver up the warrant, but we cannot tell what steps may be taken.”

“Well, I advise you not to come again on the like errand,” said the earl. “One of your officers has fallen into my hands. I shall keep him as a hostage, and if aught happens contrary to our present understanding, I will most assuredly shoot him. Now, gentlemen, you are free to depart as soon as you please.”

Thereupon, the magistrates came down from the perron, on the summit of which they had been standing, and mounted their horses.

By this time all the militiamen were in the saddle, and ready for departure. They muttered threats against the Jacobites, but were glad to escape a conflict with them. When Jesmond found he was to be detained, he begged hard to be set free; but his entreaties were disregarded.

The yeomen who had hitherto blocked up the gateway were now removed by Charles Radclyffe, and there was nothing to prevent the departure of the intruders, when a large upper window of the mansion was opened, and the Countess of Derwentwater appeared at it.

In her hand she bore a silken banner, embroidered with the badge of the Chevalier de Saint George. Waving the banner above the assemblage, she called out in a loud clear voice, distinctly heard by all, “Long live King James the Third! and down with the Hanoverian Usurper!”

Deafening shouts arose from the Jacobites, amidst which the magistrates and the militiamen passed through the gateway.

VIII.--HOW THE EARL TOOK LEAVE OF THE COUNTESS.

|At length the decisive step is taken,” cried Lord Der-wentwater. “Now there can be no turning back. I do not think it will be safe to remain longer at Dilston, and I would join Forster if I knew where to find him.”

“Two days hence he will be at Rothbury,” said Colonel Oxburgh. “I had a letter from him by express this very morning. He is moving about the country, picking up all the recruits he can. He has now, it seems, got forty or fifty gentlemen with him--all High Church Tories, of course--and all well mounted and well armed.”

“A good beginning,” cried the earl. “I will set out at once for Rothbury, and take all my own men with me. No doubt, we shall largely increase our force, as soon as we take the field.”

“That is certain,” said Colonel Oxburgh. “But we must get together without delay. Since Forster will not come here, we must go to him. Do not let your resolution cool, my lord. Let us start at once!”

“It shall be so,” cried the earl.

The determination was acted upon. The men displayed great loyalty and spirit. On being informed by the earl that he was about to take the field forthwith, they expressed the utmost willingness to follow him, and fight for King James.

As the Earl of Derwentwater was too devout to start on such an expedition as the present, without invoking Divine aid and protection, and as all his tenants and retainers were of the same religion as himself, mass was performed by Father Norham in the little chapel, at which the whole party assisted. The countess likewise was present, and was deeply affected.

It was a touching sight to see all those rude soldiers kneeling there and imploring Heaven's blessing upon their amis. But there were others there, equally earnest in their prayers--Colonel Oxburgh and his brave companions, with Charles Radclyffe. All these were gathered in front of the altar near the earl, and received the priestly benediction.

When the service was over, all immediately left the chapel, except the earl and countess, who remained there for a short time longer.

Their parting was sorrowful, for both felt they might never meet again. The countess was more overcome than she expected. During the visit of the magistrates she had been greatly excited, but a reaction had since taken place, and she was now proportionately depressed. Her beautiful head fell upon the earl's breast, and she wept aloud.

“I do not like to leave you thus, dearest Anna,” he said.

“Heed me not!” she rejoined, gazing at him with streaming eyes. “This will soon be past. I would not have you defer your departure for an hour on my account. Come back as soon as you can--but come not back till you have restored the king!”

“Then I may never return,” said the earl, gloomily.

“Do not despair!” she cried. “Be of good heart, and you will triumph. Night and morn, I will pray at this altar for success to your arms. And since your cause is just, Heaven will grant my prayer! And now farewell! If you stay too long here, your resolution may waver.”

“No fear of that!” cried the earl, again straining her to his breast. “Farewell! farewell!”

He then tore himself away, but when he reached the door of the chapel, he turned to take a last look at her.

She was again kneeling at the altar, and did not see him.

Meanwhile, the yeomen had been taken to the butler's pantry, where they lost no time in discussing the plentiful repast prepared for them, and having washed down the viands with some jugs of strong ale, re-mounted their horses.

Refreshments and wine were likewise served in the entrance-hall, of which the Jacobite gentlemen partook.

Before going forth each drank the king's health in a large goblet of claret, and each drew his sword and devoted it to the king's service.

Soon after this the court was empty, and the various horsemen, who had lately filled it, were seen speeding along the chestnut avenue, with the Earl of Denventwater at their head, mounted on his dapple-grey steed.

IX.--MAD-JACK HALL OF OTTERBURN.

|Halting at Corbridge, the earl and his companions drew their swords, and proclaimed James the Third.

Here half a dozen gentlemen joined them, and they obtained some further recruits as they went on.

One of the chief partisans of the Stuarts in the county was Mr. Hall, of Otterburn, in Redesdale. A man of ancient family and considerable property, but of eccentric character and ungovernable temper, he was known by the name of “Mad Jack Hall of Otterburn.”

Under ordinary circumstances it was difficult to get on with a person so quarrelsome, and he was therefore left out of many Jacobite meetings; but it being now necessary that every friend of the cause should be mustered, Squire Hall was far too important to be omitted. Lord Derwentwater had therefore resolved to visit Otterburn, and see what could be done with the crazy laird. He mentioned his design to Colonel Oxburgh and the others, who entirely approved of it.

About four o'clock in the afternoon, after riding for the most part across the country, they entered a wild district, erstwhile the scene of many a Border foray; and after tracking it for some miles reached the picturesque village of Otterburn, where the famous battle was fought.

Before them rose the still proud pile that had so stoutly resisted the attack of the Scots. Through the valley flowed the now clear Otter, once been dyed red with blood, while its banks were covered with slain.

The approach of the party had evidently been observed, for as they drew near the castle, a tall man sallied forth from the gateway, and greeted them with a loud shout.

Lord Derwentwater and those with him at once recognised the Laird of Otterburn, and were glad to find him at home.

In age, Squire Hall might be forty-five--perhaps not quite so much--but his deep red complexion seemed to indicate that he drank hard, and his countenance had certainly a wild expression. But his deportment was quite that of a gentleman. He wore a green riding-dress laced with silver, a black riding-wig, and a small three-cornered hat, likewise bound with silver lace, and had a sword by his side.

That he understood what had brought the party to Otterburn was clear, as also, that he was quite ready to join them, for he took off his hat, and shouted at the top of a stentorian voice, “Long live King James!”

The shout was repeated by the new-comers, and so lustily that all the villagers rushed to their doors.

After cordially greeting Lord Derwentwater and those with him, all of whom were friends, the squire led the whole party into the courtyard of the castle, and then told them they must not think of leaving him till the morrow.

“Don't imagine you will incommode me,” he said. “There is plenty of room in the old castle. To-day we will drink the king's health. To-morrow we will muster our forces, and prepare to fight his enemies. Forster, I hear, is at Rothbury, and if I hadn't joined your lordship, I should have joined him.”

Very well satisfied with their hearty reception, the earl and his friends with the whole troop dismounted, and were shortly afterwards installed in various parts of the castle.

That beds were found for all of them--or even half--we do not pretend to say; but in some way or other they were accommodated.

Later on in the day a substantial dinner was served in the old banqueting-hall.

A great deal of wine was drunk that night, as was generally the case at Otterburn, and it would have been strange indeed if a quarrel had not occurred between the choleric laird and some of his guests.

For a time Squire Hall appeared in remarkably good humour. He proposed a great number of Jacobite toasts, all of which were drunk with enthusiasm, but at length he propounded a plan for taking Newcastle by surprise, and its absurdity being pointed out to him by Colonel Oxburgh he flew into a violent rage, and told the colonel he was not fit to command a regiment.

The colonel immediately arose to leave the table, and Lord Derwentwater insisted that the squire should at once withdraw the offensive observation. Instead of doing so, the squire sprang from his chair, drew his sword, and dared Colonel Oxburgh to meet him; but while gesticulating fiercely he fell to the ground, and could not get up again. In this state he was carried off to bed, and next morning he had forgotten all about the occurrence.

X.--THE RACE ON SIMONSIDE.

|After a capital breakfast, the whole party--now increased by Squire Hall and half a dozen men--rode from Otter-burn to Simonside, one of the loftiest and most striking hills in Northumberland. The summit of this remarkable eminence is a complete plateau, and the views commanded from it on all sides are extraordinarily fine, the whole range of the Cheviots being visible on the west, and the German Ocean on the east.

As the party were riding across this wide plain, with the intention of descending the north side, and proceeding to Rothbury, Squire Hall, who had been tolerably quiet during the morning, proposed to ride a race with Charles Radclyffe for twenty guineas.

“We will ride from here to Rothbury,” he said; “and whoever gets there first, shall be deemed the winner.”

Charles Radclyffe instantly accepted the challenge; but the Earl of Derwentwater very reluctantly allowed the match to take place, and only consented from the fear of causing a fresh quarrel with the squire.

Without loss of time, the two gentlemen were placed together, and started at once by the earl. Both were well mounted--both excellent horsemen--but Charles Radclyffe was much the lighter weight, though undoubtedly the squire had the stronger horse.

It was a very pretty sight, to see them as they scoured over the plain, accompanied by the whole troop. The earl's dapple-grey being fleeter than either of the contending steeds, he could have easily led them, had he thought proper, but he did not make the attempt. Nor did he go beyond the edge of the hill.

On looking down the steep slopes, he called to the others to stop, but neither of them heeded him. Both dashed headlong down the hill, and all the lookers-on thought they would come rolling to the bottom.

If ever Squire Hall merited the epithet applied to his name, it was on that day, and Charles Radclyffe appeared little less crazy--the general impression being that both would break their necks. But somehow, the horses kept their feet. The squire shouted lustily, as he continued his mad descent, and Charles was equally excited.

To the astonishment of all the beholders they got down in safety, and were soon afterwards seen crossing the bridge; being then so close together, that it was impossible to say who had won the race.

The Earl of Derwentwater and his companions took an easier and more secure route down. As they approached the old bridge over the Coquet leading to the charming little town, they met the two crazy riders coming to meet them, and inquired who had won.

“We can't settle the point, my lord,” replied the squire; “it seems to have been a dead-heat. We shall have to ride the race over again.”

“Not on Simonside Hill,” replied Lord Derwentwater, laughing. “Have you heard where Mr. Forster has fixed his head-quarters? I see nothing of him or his troop.”

“His head-quarters are now at Wanny Crags,” replied the squire. “He has gone there to meet some friends.”

“Does he return to Rothbury?” demanded the earl.

“That seems doubtful,” replied Charles Radclyffe. “No one can answer for his movements. Probably, he will proceed to Warkworth to meet Lord Widdrington.”

“Then we must follow him,” said the earl.

Fain would Lord Deventwater have tarried for a day at Rothbury, which offered many attractions to him, but wishing to effect an immediate junction with Forster, he only halted long enough to allow his men to refresh themselves at the comfortable little hostel near the church, where they found good ale.

To reach Wanny Crags, they had again to cross Simon-side, and the deciding race was run on the summit, and won by Squire Hall, who was extraordinarily proud of the achievement.

XI.--WANNY CRAGS.

|On descending the south side of the hill the earl and his troop passed through a thick forest, and then entered upon a moor, in the midst of which could be seen a remarkable cluster of rocks. These were Wanny Crags, and on the highest of them floated the king's banner, showing that the insurgents had taken up a position there.

On a nearer approach to this singular station, Forster and his men could be descried, grouped like bandits on the rocks; while a great cleft served as a stable for their horses.

As the earl drew nigh this natural fortress, Forster came down from the lofty point he had occupied and bade him welcome, expressing the greatest satisfaction at beholding him and his friends, and adding, that no doubt now they were come, all would go well.

“You do not mean to pass the night among these rocks, I presume?” said the earl.

“I came hither in the hope of gaining some recruits,” replied Forster, “but have been disappointed. If your lordship had not joined me, I should have returned to Rothbury. But now I think it will be best to proceed to Warkworth. The castle is in our hands, and Lord Widdrington will be there to-morrow with a troop of horse. I hope we shall soon be strong enough to besiege Newcastle.”

“Nothing can be decided upon till our forces are organised, and we can ascertain what assistance we are likely to receive from Scotland,” said Lord Derwentwater. “From what you say, we shall be able to hold a consultation with Lord Widdrington to-morrow, and can be guided by his advice.”

Just then, a sentinel stationed on the highest crag, called out that a troop of horse-militia was coming across the moor on the road from Morpeth, and after Charles Radclyffe had examined the party through a spy-glass he declared it was Sir William Lorraine, and the party he had brought with him to Dilston.

“I recognise Sir William perfectly,” he said.

“And so do I!” cried Squire Hall, taking the spy-glass from him. “And I am quite certain he is now on his way to Otterburn to arrest me. Leave me to deal with him. Let the men conceal themselves behind the rocks, so that he may not suspect the presence of so large a party.”

Since no harm could be done by humouring the eccentric squire, Lord Derwentwater and Mr. Forster complied with his request, and, as he rode off, they concealed their men as he had suggested.

As soon as Sir William Lorraine--for he it undoubtedly was--came in sight of Wanny Crags, he was made aware by the flag that a party of insurgents must be posted there.

But this discovery did not prevent him from going on, as he had no idea the rebels were in any force, and did not imagine they could muster more than a dozen at the outside.

As Squire Hall advanced, he recognised him, and called out to him to stop, but the injunction being disregarded he repeated it more authoritatively.

“You are my prisoner, sir,” he cried. “I hold a warrant for your arrest.”

“I don't think you are likely to execute the warrant, Sir William,” rejoined the squire laughing disdainfully.

“I would not advise you to offer resistance, sir,” said Sir William. “And since there is no chance of escape, you had better surrender at discretion.”

“I surrender!” exclaimed the squire. “I defy you and all your men to arrest me.”

So saying, he wheeled round, and galloped back as fast as he could to Wanny Crags.

The magistrate followed with the whole of his troop. He would not allow them to fire, or the career of the fugitive would soon have been checked.

The squire called out loudly as he drew near the crags, and in answer to the cry, forty or fifty armed insurgents suddenly appeared at various points; while an equal number of horsemen, headed by Lord Derwentwater and Mr. Forster, came from behind the rocks.

Confounded by this unexpected sight, and instantly comprehending the snare into which he had fallen, the magistrate would have fled, but before he could stir, his bridle was seized by Squire Hall, who exclaimed:

“You threatened to arrest me, Sir William. Now you are my prisoner.”

While the magistrate was hesitating, Lord Derwentwater called out:

“Bid your men lay down their arms instantly, Sir William, or we shall fire upon them.”

“Hold! my lord!” exclaimed the squire. “I am very much mistaken if these worthy fellows are not inclined to join us. Save your lives,” he added to the militiamen, “and shout for James the Third!”

“Long live King James!” cried the whole of the troop.

“Ah, traitors! ah, rebels! is it thus you support your king?” cried the magistrate.

“Harkee, Sir William!” cried the squire. “I would recommend you a little more prudence. If you try to take our recruits from us we shall make short work with you. Gentlemen,” he added to the others, “you are now on the right side. Let neither threats nor persuasions lure you from it.”

“Do you propose to detain me, my lord, if I consent to deliver up my arms?” said the magistrate to Lord Der-wentwater.

“No, Sir William,” replied the earl. “I am anxious you should take back tidings of your own defeat to Morpeth. You cannot conceal it, since you will not have your militiamen with you.”

With a deeply mortified look Sir William then delivered his sword to Squire Hall, by whom it was handed to Lord Derwentwater, after which the magistrate rode off by himself, and returned to Morpeth.

A very curious scene now took place, as the late enemies fraternised, and professed the greatest regard for each other. All the militiamen seemed now to be ardent Jacobites.

Greatly rejoiced at obtaining such an unexpected reinforcement, the two leaders did all in their power to conciliate the new recruits, and were by no means sparing in promises.

The party did not remain much longer at Wanny Crags, but proceeded to a hill called the Waterfalls, from the circumstance of a spring running in two different directions. Here they halted for a couple of hours at a large farmhouse.

Thence they marched to Warkworth, their road lying for the most part along the banks of the beautiful river Coquet.

XII.--WARKWORTH CASTLE.

|Next day, the two insurgent chiefs, who were lodged with all their followers in Warkworth Castle, were joined by Lord Widdrington with thirty horsemen.

His lordship would have brought double that number of men, but horses and equipments for them were wanting. Plenty of raw undisciplined infantry could be found, but cavalry were required.

On the whole, however, the prospects of the insurgents were very encouraging. They had plenty of friends at Alnwick and Morpeth, and an insurrection would undoubtedly have taken place in Newcastle, had it not been checked by the sudden arrival of Sir Charles Hotham's regiment of foot from Yorkshire.

From accounts received from every quarter, it was certain that the whole country was in a most disturbed state, and reinforcements, though on a somewhat small scale, were constantly arriving. The insurgents had not been many hours in Warkworth when their numbers were augmented by a hundred horse.

Immediately on the arrival of Lord Widdrington at Warkworth, the first business of the insurgent leaders was to collect all their forces in the court-yard of the castle, and proclaim King James.

A large concourse likewise assembled, and great enthusiasm prevailed. No locality could have been better chosen for the ceremonial, which produced a very striking effect, and no ill omen attended it. On the contrary, everything appeared auspicious. The day was fine, and the proud old castle looked its best, and seemed to smile upon the scene.

After the proclamation had been made--amid loud flourishes of trumpets and beating of drums, accompanied by the shouts of the assemblage--the royal banner was placed on the Lion Tower.

Later on in the day, a banquet was given in the great baronial hall in the keep, at which all the insurgent officers assisted.

The entertainment was intended to celebrate the appointment of Mr. Forster as General of the Northumbrian forces, which had taken place that day at the recommendation of the Earl of Derwentwater and Lord Widdrington, the only persons who could have opposed him.

But they both felt that the commander of the English army must not be a Roman Catholic, and therefore withdrew their own claims, and supported the High Tory squire, who was generally very popular in the county, and to whom objections on the score of religion could not be raised. However deficient Mr. Forster might be in military knowledge and skill, it was thought he would be saved from any grave error by Colonel Oxburgh, whom he proposed to have constantly near him.

The banquet passed off very well, and the best feeling towards the new commander was manifested on all hands.

Some little disturbance was made by the Laird of Otterburn, but it was quickly set right, and General Forster put more constraint upon himself than he had been accustomed to do in former days at Bamborough.

Next day the castle began to assume the appearance of a garrison.

The court-yard was filled with recruits, who were continually arriving, and Colonel Oxburgh and Captain Wogan were entirely occupied in examining them.

As much discipline as possible was observed, but in the present state of things it was very difficult to maintain it.

General Forster rode to Alnwick, accompanied by Lord Derwentwater and Lord Widdrington, and attended by a strong guard, and brought back with him some necessary supplies.

On his return he was welcomed by the arrival of a troop of Scottish cavalry (known as the Merse Troop), under the command of the Honourable James Hume, brother to the earl of Hume.

This was one of the five troops composing the division of South Country Scots now marching into England, from Moffat in Annandale, and commanded by Lord Kenmure.