CHAPTER XLIX
In the King's name, Let fall your swords and daggers! --CRITIC.
When the father and son entered the cabinet of audience, it was easilyvisible that Sir Geoffrey had obeyed the summons as he would havedone the trumpet's call to horse; and his dishevelled grey locks andhalf-arranged dress, though they showed zeal and haste, such as he wouldhave used when Charles I. called him to attend a council of war, seemedrather indecorous in a pacific drawing-room. He paused at the door ofthe cabinet, but when the King called on him to advance, came hastilyforward, with every feeling of his earlier and later life afloat, andcontending in his memory, threw himself on his knees before the King,seized his hand, and, without even an effort to speak, wept aloud.Charles, who generally felt deeply so long as an impressive object wasbefore his eyes, indulged for a moment the old man's rapture.--"My goodSir Geoffrey," he said, "you have had some hard measure; we owe youamends, and will find time to pay our debt."
"No suffering--no debt," said the old man; "I cared not what the roguessaid of me--I knew they could never get twelve honest fellows to believea word of their most damnable lies. I did long to beat them when theycalled me traitor to your Majesty--that I confess--But to have such anearly opportunity of paying my duty to your Majesty, overpays it all.The villains would have persuaded me I ought not to come to Court--aha!"
The Duke of Ormond perceived that the King coloured much; for in truthit was from the Court that the private intimation had been given to SirGeoffrey to go down to the country, without appearing at Whitehall; andhe, moreover, suspected that the jolly old Knight had not risen fromhis dinner altogether dry-lipped, after the fatigues of a day soagitating.--"My old friend," he whispered, "you forget that your son isto be presented--permit me to have that honour."
"I crave your Grace's pardon humbly," said Sir Geoffrey, "but it isan honour I design for myself, as I apprehend no one can so utterlysurrender and deliver him up to his Majesty's service as the father thatbegot him is entitled to do.--Julian, come forward, and kneel.--Herehe is, please your Majesty--Julian Peveril--a chip of the old block--asstout, though scarce so tall a tree, as the old trunk, when at thefreshest. Take him to you, sir, for a faithful servant, _a pendre_,as the French say; if he fears fire or steel, axe or gallows, in yourMajesty's service, I renounce him--he is no son of mine--I disown him,and he may go to the Isle of Man, the Isle of Dogs, or the Isle ofDevils, for what I care."
Charles winked to Ormond, and having, with his wonted courtesy,expressed his thorough conviction that Julian would imitate the loyaltyof his ancestors, and especially of his father, added, that hebelieved his Grace of Ormond had something to communicate which was ofconsequence to his service. Sir Geoffrey made his military reverenceat this hint, and marched off in the rear of the Duke, who proceededto inquire of him concerning the events of the day. Charles, in themeanwhile, having in the first place, ascertained that the son was notin the same genial condition with the father, demanded and received fromhim a precise account of all the proceedings subsequent to the trial.
Julian, with the plainness and precision which such a subject demanded,when treated in such a presence, narrated all that happened down to theentrance of Bridgenorth; and his Majesty was so much pleased with hismanner, that he congratulated Arlington on their having gained theevidence of at least one man of sense to these dark and mysteriousevents. But when Bridgenorth was brought upon the scene, Julianhesitated to bestow a name upon him; and although he mentioned thechapel which he had seen filled with men in arms, and the violentlanguage of the preacher, he added, with earnestness, thatnotwithstanding all this, the men departed without coming to anyextremity, and had all left the place before his father and he were setat liberty.
"And you retired quietly to your dinner in Fleet Street, young man,"said the King severely, "without giving a magistrate notice of thedangerous meeting which was held in the vicinity of our palace, and whodid not conceal their intention of proceeding to extremities?"
Peveril blushed, and was silent. The King frowned, and stepped asideto communicate with Ormond, who reported that the father seemed to haveknown nothing of the matter.
"And the son, I am sorry to say," said the King, "seems more unwillingto speak the truth than I should have expected. We have all variety ofevidence in this singular investigation--a mad witness like the dwarf, adrunken witness like the father, and now a dumb witness.--Young man,"he continued, addressing Julian, "your behaviour is less frank than Iexpected from your father's son. I must know who this person is withwhom you held such familiar intercourse--you know him, I presume?"
Julian acknowledged that he did, but, kneeling on one knee, entreatedhis Majesty's forgiveness for concealing his name; "he had been freed,"he said, "from his confinement, on promising to that effect."
"That was a promise made, by your own account, under compulsion,"answered the King, "and I cannot authorise your keeping it; it is yourduty to speak the truth--if you are afraid of Buckingham, the Duke shallwithdraw."
"I have no reason to fear the Duke of Buckingham," said Peveril; "that Ihad an affair with one of his household, was the man's own fault and notmine."
"Oddsfish!" said the King, "the light begins to break in on me--Ithought I remembered thy physiognomy. Wert thou not the very fellow whomI met at Chiffinch's yonder morning?--The matter escaped me since; butnow I recollect thou saidst then, that thou wert the son of that jollyold three-bottle Baronet yonder."
"It is true," said Julian, "that I met your Majesty at MasterChiffinch's, and I am afraid had the misfortune to displease you;but----"
"No more of that, young man--no more of that--But I recollect you hadwith you that beautiful dancing siren.--Buckingham, I will hold you goldto silver, that she was the intended tenant of that bass-fiddle?"
"Your Majesty has rightly guessed it," said the Duke; "and I suspectshe has put a trick upon me, by substituting the dwarf in her place; forChristian thinks----"
"Damn Christian!" said the King hastily--"I wish they would bringhim hither, that universal referee."--And as the wish was uttered,Christian's arrival was announced. "Let him attend," said the King: "Buthark--a thought strikes me.--Here, Master Peveril--yonder dancing maidenthat introduced you to us by the singular agility of her performance, isshe not, by your account, a dependent of the Countess of Derby?"
"I have known her such for years," answered Julian.
"Then will we call the Countess hither," said the King: "It is fitwe should learn who this little fairy really is; and if she be nowso absolutely at the beck of Buckingham, and this Master Christian ofhis--why I think it would be but charity to let her ladyship know somuch, since I question if she will wish, in that case, to retain her inher service. Besides," he continued, speaking apart, "this Julian, towhom suspicion attaches in these matters from his obstinate silence,is also of the Countess's household. We will sift this matter to thebottom, and do justice to all."
The Countess of Derby, hastily summoned, entered the royal closet at onedoor, just as Christian and Zarah, or Fenella, were ushered in by theother. The old Knight of Martindale, who had ere this returned to thepresence, was scarce controlled, even by the signs which she made, somuch was he desirous of greeting his old friend; but as Ormond laid akind restraining hand upon his arm, he was prevailed on to sit still.
The Countess, after a deep reverence to the King, acknowledged therest of the nobility present by a slighter reverence, smiled to JulianPeveril, and looked with surprise at the unexpected apparition ofFenella. Buckingham bit his lip, for he saw the introduction of LadyDerby was likely to confuse and embroil every preparation which he hadarranged for his defence; and he stole a glance at Christian, whose eye,when fixed on the Countess, assumed the deadly sharpness which sparklesin the adder's, while his cheek grew almost black under the influence ofstrong emotion.
"Is there any one in this presence whom your ladyship recognises," saidthe King gracio
usly, "besides your old friends of Ormond and Arlington?"
"I see, my liege, two worthy friends of my husband's house," replied theCountess; "Sir Geoffrey Peveril and his son--the latter a distinguishedmember of my son's household."
"Any one else?" continued the King.
"An unfortunate female of my family, who disappeared from the Islandof Man at the same time when Julian Peveril left it upon business ofimportance. She was thought to have fallen from the cliff into the sea."
"Had your ladyship any reason to suspect--pardon me," said the King,"for putting such a question--any improper intimacy between MasterPeveril and this same female attendant?"
"My liege," said the Countess, colouring indignantly, "my household isof reputation."
"Nay, my lady, be not angry," said the King; "I did but ask--such thingswill befall in the best regulated families."
"Not in mine, sire," said the Countess. "Besides that, in common prideand in common honesty, Julian Peveril is incapable of intriguing with anunhappy creature, removed by her misfortune almost beyond the limits ofhumanity."
Zarah looked at her, and compressed her lips, as if to keep in the wordsthat would fain break from them.
"I know how it is," said the King--"What your ladyship says may be truein the main, yet men's tastes have strange vagaries. This girl is lostin Man as soon as the youth leaves it, and is found in Saint Jame'sPark, bouncing and dancing like a fairy, so soon as he appears inLondon."
"Impossible!" said the Countess; "she cannot dance."
"I believe," said the King, "she can do more feats than your ladyshipeither suspects or would approve of."
The Countess drew up, and was indignantly silent.
The King proceeded--"No sooner is Peveril in Newgate, than, by theaccount of the venerable little gentleman, this merry maiden is eventhere also for company. Now, without inquiring how she got in, I thinkcharitably that she had better taste than to come there on the dwarf'saccount.--Ah ha! I think Master Julian is touched in conscience!"
Julian did indeed start as the King spoke, for it reminded him of themidnight visit in his cell.
The King looked fixedly at him, and then proceeded--"Well, gentlemen,Peveril is carried to his trial, and is no sooner at liberty, than wefind him in the house where the Duke of Buckingham was arranging what hecalls a musical mask.--Egad, I hold it next to certain, that this wenchput the change on his Grace, and popt the poor dwarf into the bass-viol,reserving her own more precious hours to be spent with Master JulianPeveril.--Think you not so, Sir Christian, you, the universal referee?Is there any truth in this conjecture?"
Christian stole a glance at Zarah, and read that in her eye whichembarrassed him. "He did not know," he said; "he had indeed engaged thisunrivalled performer to take the proposed part in the mask; and shewas to have come forth in the midst of a shower of lambent fire, veryartificially prepared with perfumes, to overcome the smell of thepowder; but he knew not why--excepting that she was wilful andcapricious, like all great geniuses--she had certainly spoiled theconcert by cramming in that more bulky dwarf."
"I should like," said the King, "to see this little maiden stand forth,and bear witness, in such manner as she can express herself, onthis mysterious matter. Can any one here understand her mode ofcommunication?"
Christian said, he knew something of it since he had become acquaintedwith her in London. The Countess spoke not till the King asked her,and then owned dryly, that she had necessarily some habitual means ofintercourse with one who had been immediately about her person for somany years.
"I should think," said Charles, "that this same Master Peveril has themore direct key to her language, after all we have heard."
The King looked first at Peveril, who blushed like a maiden at theinference which the King's remark implied, and then suddenly turned hiseyes on the supposed mute, on whose cheek a faint colour was dying away.A moment afterwards, at a signal from the Countess, Fenella, or Zarah,stepped forward, and having kissed her lady's hand, stood with her armsfolded on her breast, with a humble air, as different from that whichshe wore in the harem of the Duke of Buckingham, as that of a Magdalenefrom a Judith. Yet this was the least show of her talent of versatility,for so well did she play the part of the dumb girl, that Buckingham,sharp as his discernment was, remained undecided whether the creaturewhich stood before him could possibly be the same with her, who had, ina different dress, made such an impression on his imagination, or indeedwas the imperfect creature she now represented. She had at once allthat could mark the imperfection of hearing, and all that could show thewonderful address by which nature so often makes up of the deficiency.There was the lip that trembles not at any sound--the seeminginsensibility to the conversation that passed around; while, on theother hand, was the quick and vivid glance; that seemed anxious todevour the meaning of those sounds, which she could gather no otherwisethan by the motion of the lips.
Examined after her own fashion, Zarah confirmed the tale of Christian inall its points, and admitted that she had deranged the project laid fora mask, by placing the dwarf in her own stead; the cause of her doing soshe declined to assign, and the Countess pressed her no farther.
"Everything tells to exculpate my Lord of Buckingham," said Charles,"from so absurd an accusation: the dwarf's testimony is too fantastic,that of the two Peverils does not in the least affect the Duke; thatof the dumb damsel completely contradicts the possibility of his guilt.Methinks, my lords, we should acquaint him that he stands acquitted ofa complaint, too ridiculous to have been subjected to a more seriousscrutiny than we have hastily made upon this occasion."
Arlington bowed in acquiescence, but Ormond spoke plainly.--"I shouldsuffer, sire, in the opinion of the Duke of Buckingham, brilliant as histalents are known to be, should I say that I am satisfied in my ownmind on this occasion. But I subscribe to the spirit of the times; and Iagree it would be highly dangerous, on such accusations as we have beenable to collect, to impeach the character of a zealous Protestantlike his Grace--Had he been a Catholic, under such circumstances ofsuspicion, the Tower had been too good a prison for him."
Buckingham bowed to the Duke of Ormond, with a meaning which even histriumph could not disguise.--"_Tu me la pagherai!_" he muttered, in atone of deep and abiding resentment; but the stout old Irishman, who hadlong since braved his utmost wrath, cared little for this expression ofhis displeasure.
The King then, signing to the other nobles to pass into the publicapartments, stopped Buckingham as he was about to follow them; and whenthey were alone, asked, with a significant tone, which brought all theblood in the Duke's veins into his countenance, "When was it, George,that your useful friend Colonel Blood became a musician?--You aresilent," he said; "do not deny the charge, for yonder villain, onceseen, is remembered for ever. Down, down on your knees, George,and acknowledge that you have abused my easy temper.--Seek for noapology--none will serve your turn. I saw the man myself, among yourGermans as you call them; and you know what I must needs believe fromsuch a circumstance."
"Believe that I have been guilty--most guilty, my liege and King," saidthe Duke, conscience-stricken, and kneeling down;--"believe that I wasmisguided--that I was mad--Believe anything but that I was capable ofharming, or being accessory to harm, your person."
"I do not believe it," said the King; "I think of you, Villiers, as thecompanion of my dangers and my exile, and am so far from supposing youmean worse than you say, that I am convinced you acknowledge more thanever you meant to attempt."
"By all that is sacred," said the Duke, still kneeling, "had I notbeen involved to the extent of life and fortune with the villainChristian----"
"Nay, if you bring Christian on the stage again," said the King,smiling, "it is time for me to withdraw. Come, Villiers, rise--I forgivethee, and only recommend one act of penance--the curse you yourselfbestowed on the dog who bit you--marriage, and retirement to yourcountry-seat."
The Duke rose abashed, and followed the King into the circle, whichCharles entered,
leaning on the shoulder of his repentant peer; to whomhe showed so much countenance, as led the most acute observers present,to doubt the possibility of there existing any real cause for thesurmises to the Duke's prejudice.
The Countess of Derby had in the meanwhile consulted with the Duke ofOrmond, with the Peverils, and with her other friends; and, by theirunanimous advice, though with considerable difficulty, became satisfied,that to have thus shown herself at Court, was sufficient to vindicatethe honour of her house; and that it was her wisest course, after havingdone so, to retire to her insular dominions, without farther provokingthe resentment of a powerful faction. She took farewell of the King inform, and demanded his permission to carry back with her the helplesscreature who had so strangely escaped from her protection, into aworld where her condition rendered her so subject to every species ofmisfortune.
"Will your ladyship forgive me?" said Charles. "I have studied your sexlong--I am mistaken if your little maiden is not as capable of caringfor herself as any of us."
"Impossible!" said the Countess.
"Possible, and most true," whispered the King. "I will instantlyconvince you of the fact, though the experiment is too delicate to bemade by any but your ladyship. Yonder she stands, looking as if sheheard no more than the marble pillar against which she leans. Now, ifLady Derby will contrive either to place her hand near the region ofthe damsel's heart, or at least on her arm, so that she can feel thesensation of the blood when the pulse increases, then do you, my Lord ofOrmond, beckon Julian Peveril out of sight--I will show you in a momentthat it can stir at sounds spoken."
The Countess, much surprised, afraid of some embarrassing pleasantry onthe part of Charles, yet unable to repress her curiosity, placed herselfnear Fenella, as she called her little mute; and, while making signs toher, contrived to place her hand on her wrist.
At this moment the King, passing near them, said, "This is a horriddeed--the villain Christian has stabbed young Peveril!"
The mute evidence of the pulse, which bounded as if a cannon had beendischarged close by the poor girl's ear, was accompanied by such a loudscream of agony, as distressed, while it startled, the good-naturedmonarch himself. "I did but jest," he said; "Julian is well, my prettymaiden. I only used the wand of a certain blind deity, called Cupid, tobring a deaf and dumb vassal of his to the exercise of her faculties."
"I am betrayed!" she said, with her eyes fixed on the ground--"Iam betrayed!--and it is fit that she, whose life has been spent inpractising treason on others, should be caught in her own snare. Butwhere is my tutor in iniquity?--where is Christian, who taught me toplay the part of spy on this unsuspicious lady, until I had well-nighdelivered her into his bloody hands?"
"This," said the King, "craves more secret examination. Let all leavethe apartment who are not immediately connected with these proceedings,and let this Christian be again brought before us.--Wretched man,"he continued, addressing Christian, "what wiles are these you havepractised, and by what extraordinary means?"
"She has betrayed me, then!" said Christian--"Betrayed me to bonds anddeath, merely for an idle passion, which can never be successful!--Butknow, Zarah," he added, addressing her sternly, "when my life isforfeited through thy evidence, the daughter has murdered the father!"
The unfortunate girl stared on him in astonishment. "You said," atlength she stammered forth, "that I was the daughter of your slaughteredbrother?"
"That was partly to reconcile thee to the part thou wert to play in mydestined drama of vengeance--partly to hide what men call the infamy ofthy birth. But _my_ daughter thou art! and from the eastern clime, inwhich thy mother was born, you derive that fierce torrent of passionwhich I laboured to train to my purposes, but which, turned into anotherchannel, has become the cause of your father's destruction.--My destinyis the Tower, I suppose?"
He spoke these words with great composure, and scarce seemed to regardthe agonies of his daughter, who, throwing herself at his feet, sobbedand wept most bitterly.
"This must not be," said the King, moved with compassion at this sceneof misery. "If you consent, Christian, to leave this country, there is avessel in the river bound for New England--Go, carry your dark intriguesto other lands."
"I might dispute the sentence," said Christian boldly; "and if I submitto it, it is a matter of my own choice.--One half-hour had made meeven with that proud woman, but fortune hath cast the balance againstme.--Rise, Zarah, Fenella no more! Tell the Lady of Derby, that, if thedaughter of Edward Christian, the niece of her murdered victim, servedher as a menial, it was but for the purpose of vengeance--miserably,miserably frustrated!--Thou seest thy folly now--thou wouldst followyonder ungrateful stripling--thou wouldst forsake all other thoughts togain his slightest notice; and now thou art a forlorn outcast, ridiculedand insulted by those on whose necks you might have trod, had yougoverned yourself with more wisdom!--But come, thou art still mydaughter--there are other skies than that which canopies Britain."
"Stop him," said the King; "we must know by what means this maiden foundaccess to those confined in our prisons."
"I refer your Majesty to your most Protestant jailer, and to the mostProtestant Peers, who, in order to obtain perfect knowledge of thedepth of the Popish Plot, have contrived these ingenious apertures forvisiting them in their cells by night or day. His Grace of Buckinghamcan assist your Majesty, if you are inclined to make the inquiry."[*]
[*] It was said that very unfair means were used to compel the prisoners, committed on account of the Popish Plot, to make disclosures, and that several of them were privately put to the torture.
"Christian," said the Duke, "thou art the most barefaced villain whoever breathed."
"Of a commoner, I may," answered Christian, and led his daughter out ofthe presence.
"See after him, Selby," said the King; "lose not sight of him till theship sail; if he dare return to Britain, it shall be at his peril.Would to God we had as good riddance of others as dangerous! And Iwould also," he added, after a moment's pause, "that all our politicalintrigues and feverish alarms could terminate as harmlessly as now. Hereis a plot without a drop of blood; and all the elements of a romance,without its conclusion. Here we have a wandering island princess (I praymy Lady of Derby's pardon), a dwarf, a Moorish sorceress, an impenitentrogue, and a repentant man of rank, and yet all ends without eitherhanging or marriage."
"Not altogether without the latter," said the Countess, who had anopportunity, during the evening, of much private conversation withJulian Peveril. "There is a certain Major Bridgenorth, who, since yourMajesty relinquishes farther inquiry into these proceedings, which hehad otherwise intended to abide, designs, as we are informed, to leaveEngland for ever. Now, this Bridgenorth, by dint of law, hath acquiredstrong possession over the domains of Peveril, which he is desirousto restore to the ancient owners, with much fair land besides,conditionally, that our young Julian will receive them as the dowry ofhis only child and heir."
"By my faith," said the King, "she must be a foul-favoured wench,indeed, if Julian requires to be pressed to accept her on such fairconditions."
"They love each other like lovers of the last age," said the Countess;"but the stout old Knight likes not the round-headed alliance."
"Our royal recommendation shall put that to rights," said the King; "SirGeoffrey Peveril has not suffered hardship so often at our command, thathe will refuse our recommendation when it comes to make him amends forall his losses."
It may be supposed the King did not speak without being fully awareof the unlimited ascendancy which he possessed over the old Tory; forwithin four weeks afterwards, the bells of Martindale-Moultrassie wereringing for the union of the families, from whose estates it takes itscompound name, and the beacon-light of the Castle blazed high over hilland dale, and summoned all to rejoice who were within twenty miles ofits gleam.
THE END
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