Preston Fight: or, The Insurrection of 1715. Ainsworth William Harrison

retainers.”

      “But they are unprepared,” remarked the prince.

      “Pardon me, my liege. The friends I have named are always prepared, and the news that your majesty is here would rouse them all to come at once. I ought to have added to the list Jack Hall, of Otterburn, and Tom Forster, of Bamborough. They are High Church Tories, and will bring many others with them.”

      “No doubt they would prove an important acquisition,” said the prince. “But I will not try to dethrone Anne till I have given her the chance of acting fairly towards me. I am very sanguine as to the result of my interview with her.”

      “Heaven grant your majesty may not be disappointed!” rejoined Lord Derwentwater. “I will say no more. Whenever it shall please you to set out to London, I shall be ready to attend you.”

      “I will remain here till to-morrow, cousin,” said the prince. “On some future occasion I hope to be your guest for a longer time; but though Dilston is a charming place, and I should like to see all its beauties, it must not detain me now.”

      They were at the end of the avenue, but, before passing through the gateway, Lord Derwentwater said to the prince, “Your majesty had best dismount here, and get rid of the postboy.”

      On this the prince sprang from his horse, while the gate-porter, by the earl’s directions, paid the postboy, and took the portmanteau from him.

      Having received a handsome gratuity for himself, the man then departed with his horses in tolerably good humour, though aware of the earl’s hospitality he had hoped to be regaled in the servants’ hall.

      “Meanwhile, Lord Derwentwater and his brother having alighted, the party walked across the great quadrangular court – the prince pausing occasionally to look around, and express his admiration.

      “By my faith! cousin, you have a splendid house,” he cried. “‘Tis quite a palace.”

      “Why not take possession of it, my liege?” replied Derwentwater.

      “You tempt me greatly. But no! I must not be diverted from my purpose.”

      They then ascended the magnificent flight of stone steps, and entered a spacious hall – the door being thrown open by a butler and several other servants in the earl’s rich livery.

      “Little did I dream, when I set forth an hour ago, whom I should bring back as my guest,” observed Lord Derwentwater.

      “You have often told me at Saint Germains how rejoiced you would be to see me here,” rejoined the prince; “and now you perceive I have taken you at your word. But you are very remiss, cousin – pray present your brother to me!”

      The presentation then took place, but without any ceremony, on account of the servants, and the prince shook hands very heartily with Charles Radclyffe.

      Just then, an elderly personage, with silver locks that fell over his shoulders, and wearing a priestly garb, entered the hall. It was Father Norham, who had come to see who the earl had brought with him. The good priest had a kindly and benevolent expression of countenance, and fixed his keen grey eyes inquiringly on the stranger, with whose appearance he was greatly struck.

      After a few moments’ scrutiny he consulted Lord Derwentwater by a look, and his suspicions being confirmed, he most respectfully returned the reverence made to him by the prince.

      Having given some orders to the butler, Lord Derwentwater conducted his guest to the library which opened from the hall, and they were followed by Charles Rad-clyffe and the priest.

      Further disguise was now unnecessary, and no inquisitive observer being present, the prince was treated by all with the respect that was his due.

      The impression of the priest and Charles Radclyffe was that he was come to prepare a rising, and when they learnt his real design they could scarcely conceal their disappointment. Neither of them, however, ventured to offer a remonstrance, till Father Norham, being urged by the prince to speak out, said:

      “I fear your majesty will find the queen impracticable. Moreover, she has already named the Elector of Hanover her successor.”

      “But she may change her mind, good father.”

      “Her ministers will not allow her to do so, my liege. They are resolved upon a Protestant succession – and so is she. Renounce your religion, and you will succeed – not otherwise.”

      “I have already said as much to his majesty,” observed Lord Derwentwater. “But he entertains a better opinion of the queen than I do.”

      “I am unwilling to believe that she will disregard her father’s dying injunctions,” said the prince. “Bear in mind that she has never seen me. When we meet, the voice of natural affection will make itself heard. She will then become sensible of the great wrong she has done me, and hasten to make atonement. She will feel that by her wicked and unnatural conduct she has incurred Heaven’s displeasure. Her own children have been taken from her. Other severe chastisements may follow, if not averted. These are the arguments I shall employ.”

      “And they will fail in effect, my liege, because her heart is hardened, and she is blind to her sinfulness,” said the priest. “She would rather sacrifice her brother than help to re-establish our religion.”

      “Trust me, my liege, Father Norham has formed a just estimate of the queen’s character,” said Lord Derwentwater. “‘Tis vain to appeal to good feelings, where none exist.”

      “But I do not believe she is so utterly devoid of natural affection as her conduct would seem to bespeak,” said the prince. “You shall judge from what I am about to tell you. I have solicited a private interview with her in Saint James’s Palace, and she has granted my request.”

      “Granted it!” exclaimed Lord Dervventwater in astonishment, that was shared by the others.

      “Ay,” replied the prince. “My letter was conveyed by a faithful friend, and the answer to it was that her majesty would see me. Nothing more. But that was all I asked. She felt compunction for her ill doing, or she would have refused my request.”

      “But how will you obtain admittance to her, my liege?” asked Lord Derwentwater.

      “Easily,” replied the prince. “The Earl of Mar will usher me into her presence.”

      “This certainly seems favourable, and alters my view of the matter,” said the earl. “Yet it may be a device of Harley to ensnare your majesty. Are you certain that your letter reached the queen?”

      “My emissary would not deceive me,” replied the prince. “He is as loyal as yourself.”

      “If I may speak plainly to your majesty,” remarked Charles Radclyffe, “I would say that I have still great doubts. The queen may delude you with false hopes to keep you quiet.”

      “Nay, she will keep her promise if she makes it. Of that I am convinced,” said Father Norham.

      At this juncture the butler entered to say that luncheon was served, upon which the earl conducted his guest to the dining-room, where a very substantial repast awaited them.

      The Chevalier de Saint George had not breakfasted, and his early morning’s ride having given him a good appetite, he did ample justice to the broiled trout from the Devil’s Water, and the cutlets of Tyne salmon set before him.

      As the servants were present during the repast, he was treated merely as an ordinary visitor, and the conversation between him and the earl was conducted entirely in French.

      This circumstance excited the suspicion of Mr. Newbiggin, the butler, who from the first had been struck by the stranger’s appearance and manner, and he soon became convinced that Mr. Johnson, as the prince was called, was a very important personage.

      On quitting the dining-room, the butler found the earl’s chief valet in the entrance-hall, and said to him:

      “I can’t make out this Mr. Johnson, Thirlwall. I should like to know what you think of him?”

      “I’m puzzled, I own,” replied the other. “He seems