Part 34 (1/2)
The Monarch, as he weighed these words, again uttered a devout prayer, that this ill-looking affair might have no deeper root than the jealousy of some admirer of Alice Lee, promising to himself, that, devotee as he was to the fair s.e.x, he would make no scruple of renouncing the fairest of Eve's daughters in order to get out of the present dilemma.
”Sir,” he said, ”you seem to be a gentleman. I have no objection to tell you, as such, that I also am of that cla.s.s.”
”Or somewhat higher, perhaps?” said Everard.
”A gentleman,” replied Charles, ”is a term which comprehends all ranks ent.i.tled to armorial bearings-A duke, a lord, a prince, is no more than a gentleman; and if in misfortune as I am, he may be glad if that general term of courtesy is allowed him.”
”Sir,” replied Everard, ”I have no purpose to entrap you to any acknowledgment fatal to your own safety,-nor do I hold it my business to be active in the arrest of private individuals, whose perverted sense of national duty may have led them into errors, rather to be pitied than punished by candid men. But if those who have brought civil war and disturbance into their native country, proceed to carry dishonour and disgrace into the bosom of families-if they attempt to carry on their private debaucheries to the injury of the hospitable roofs which afford them refuge from the consequences of their public crimes, do you think, my lord, that we shall bear it with patience?”
”If it is your purpose to quarrel with me,” said the Prince, ”speak it out at once like a gentleman. You have the advantage, no doubt, of arms; but it is not that odds which will induce me to fly from a single man. If, on the other hand, you are disposed to hear reason, I tell you in calm words, that I neither suspect the offence to which you allude, nor comprehend why you give me the t.i.tle of my Lord.”
”You deny, then, being the Lord Wilmot?” said Everard.
”I may do so most safely,” said the Prince.
”Perhaps you rather style yourself Earl of Rochester? We heard that the issuing of some such patent by the King of Scots was a step which your ambition proposed.”
”Neither lord nor earl am I, as sure as I have a Christian soul to be saved. My name is”-
”Do not degrade yourself by unnecessary falsehood, my lord; and that to a single man, who, I promise you, will not invoke public justice to a.s.sist his own good sword should he see cause to use it. Can you look at that ring, and deny that you are Lord Wilmot?”
He handed to the disguised Prince a ring which he took from his purse, and his opponent instantly knew it for the same he had dropped into Alice's pitcher at the fountain, obeying only, through imprudently, the gallantry of the moment, in giving a pretty gem to a handsome girl, whom he had accidentally frightened.
”I know the ring,” he said; ”it has been in my possession. How it should prove me to be Lord Wilmot, I cannot conceive; and beg to say, it bears false witness against me.”
”You shall see the evidence,” answered Everard; and, resuming the ring, he pressed a spring ingeniously contrived in the collet of the setting, on which the stone flew back, and showed within it the cipher of Lord Wilmot beautifully engraved in miniature, with a coronet.-”What say you now, sir?”
”That probabilities are no proofs,” said the Prince; ”there is nothing here save what may be easily accounted for. I am the son of a Scottish n.o.bleman, who was mortally wounded and made prisoner at Worcester fight. When he took leave, and bid me fly, he gave me the few valuables he possessed, and that among others. I have heard him talk of having changed rings with Lord Wilmot, on some occasion in Scotland, but I never knew the trick of the gem which you have shown me.”
In this it may be necessary to say, Charles spoke very truly; nor would he have parted with it in the way he did, had he suspected it would be easily recognised. He proceeded after a minute's pause:-”Once more, sir-I have told you much that concerns my safety-if you are generous, you will let me pa.s.s, and I may do you on some future day as good service. If you mean to arrest me, you must do so here, and at your own peril, for I will neither walk farther your way, nor permit you to dog me on mine. If you let me pa.s.s, I will thank you: if not, take to your weapon.”
”Young gentleman,” said Colonel Everard, ”whether you be actually the gay young n.o.bleman for whom I took you, you have made me uncertain; but, intimate as you say your family has been with him, I have little doubt that you are proficient in the school of debauchery, of which Wilmot and Villiers are professors, and their hopeful Master a graduated student. Your conduct at Woodstock, where you have rewarded the hospitality of the family by meditating the most deadly wound to their honour, has proved you too apt a scholar in such an academy. I intended only to warn you on this subject-it will be your own fault if I add chastis.e.m.e.nt to admonition.”
”Warn me, sir!” said the Prince indignantly, ”and chastis.e.m.e.nt! This is presuming more on my patience than is consistent with your own safety- Draw, sir.”-So saying, he laid his hand on his sword.
”My religion,” said Everard, ”forbids me to be rash in shedding blood-Go home, sir-be wise-consult the dictates of honour as well as prudence. Respect the honour of the House of Lee, and know there is one nearly allied to it, by whom your motions will be called to severe account.”
”Aha!” said the Prince, with a bitter laugh, ”I see the whole matter now-we have our roundheaded Colonel, our puritan cousin before us-the man of texts and morals, whom Alice Lee laughs at so heartily. If your religion, sir, prevents you from giving satisfaction, it should prevent you from offering insult to a person of honour.”
The pa.s.sions of both were now fully up-they drew mutually, and began to fight, the Colonel relinquis.h.i.+ng the advantage he could have obtained by the use of his fire-arms. A thrust of the arm, or a slip of the foot, might, at the moment, have changed the destinies of Britain, when the arrival of a third party broke off the combat.
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH.
Stay-for the King has thrown his warder down.
RICHARD II.
The combatants, whom we left engaged at the end of the last chapter, made mutual pa.s.ses at each other with apparently equal skill and courage. Charles had been too often in action, and too long a party as well as a victim to civil war, to find any thing new or surprising in being obliged to defend himself with his own hands; and Everard had been distinguished, as well for his personal bravery, as for the other properties of a commander. But the arrival of a third party prevented the tragic conclusion of a combat, in which the success of either party must have given him much cause for regretting his victory.
It was the old knight himself, who arrived, mounted upon a forest pony, for the war and sequestration had left him no steed of a more dignified description. He thrust himself between the combatants, and commanded them on their lives to hold. So soon as a glance from one to the other had ascertained to him whom he had to deal with, he demanded, ”Whether the devils of Woodstock, whom folk talked about, had got possession of them both, that they were tilting at each other within the verge of the royal liberties? Let me tell both of you,” he said, ”that while old Henry Lee is at Woodstock, the immunities of the Park shall be maintained as much as if the King were still on the throne. None shall fight duellos here, excepting the stags in their season. Put up, both of you, or I shall lug out as thirdsman, and prove perhaps the worst devil of the three!-As Will says-
'I'll so maul you and your toasting-irons, That you shall think the devil has come from h.e.l.l.'”