CHAPTER XVIII.

It is God's indulgence which gives me the space, but man's cruelty that gives me the sad occasion for these thoughts.--_Eikon Basiliké._

The greater part of the night which succeeded the Earl of Nithsdale's interview with his wife, was spent by him in restlessly measuring with hasty strides the mean apartment to which he was confined.

In the morning he obtained permission to refresh himself by walking on the leads over the warders' lodgings, an indulgence occasionally granted to the prisoners.

The fresher air, all chilly as it was, and loaded with London smoke, revived him; and as he paced the narrow limits, his eye turned involuntarily towards the vessels which crowded the river up to London Bridge. As he watched, he saw one who sesails were beginning to be unfurled, while all was bustle, hurry, and confusion on board: she was getting under weigh, and he sighed to think how impossible to be surmounted were the obstacles which interposed between him and the vessel which seemed so near.

His eye dropped, and rested on the Traitor's Gate, and he almost thought he once more heard the jarring sound of the iron bolts and bars which had closed behind him.

As his eye passed on, it was arrested by the Bloody Tower, which, as some say, was the spot in which the tragic murder of the young princes was enacted. "They knew not the pains of life," he thought, "neither knew they its joys! They knew not that mutual affection which so painfully yet so sweetly attaches one to existence! But there," and he looked upon the stone which marks the place where Lord Guildford Dudley and Lady Jane Grey were executed,--"there did two pure creatures, bound to each other by every holy tie of faith and love, yield up their innocent spirits. They who had scarcely tasted of happiness,--the cup was snatched from their lips ere they could fully know its sweetness! They would have esteemed themselves most blessed, could they have been assured of as many years of mutual affection, of wedded bliss, as I have already enjoyed. Alas for ye, innocent victims of the ambition of others! when I remember you, I must not repine! And there, again!" as his thoughts followed the objects on which his eye dwelt,--"that was the prison of the unfortunate Anne Boleyn,--wounded in her affections, in her honour,--pampered with flattery, surrounded with pomp, enervated by splendour, only to be the more cruelly and suddenly plunged into the depths of misery and disgrace. No! no! I must not repine!"--and he again schooled his mind to resignation and submission. "I have neither met with falsehood nor with ingratitude! my honour is not impeached! I must not, will not, repine!"

Lady Nithsdale meanwhile was not inactive. She visited the Countesses of Derwentwater and Wintoun; and they agreed that, should the sentence not prove favourable, they would together present a petition to parliament, and in the intervening space of time that each should exert her private influence with those in power, to win as many as possible to their interest.

She visited her husband's cousin, the Duchess of Buccleugh, and obtained the duke's promise to present a petition should the necessity occur; and having taken every measure that prudence could dictate, she had but to await in tremulous anxiety the sentence which was to be pronounced on the 9th of February.

She frequently contrived to see her lord, though she was always obliged to do so by stealth. These visits, although so ardently desired by both, were to both hours of bitter anguish.

The Earl of Nithsdale, fully aware of the feeling which prevailed against him, anticipated but too justly the sentence which would be pronounced, and could not bring himself to echo the hopeful sentiments with which his wife buoyed up her spirits; neither had he the heart fully to express to her his own more gloomy apprehensions.

He listened to the details of all she had done, and all she projected, with a gentle, hopeless gratitude, which saddened and dispirited her; although she could not, she would not, adopt his view of the subject.

This produced a certain reserve. She felt he restrained his own feelings for her sake, that he smothered the anticipations of which she could not endure to hear the utterance; and the open communion of thought was at an end! She dared not allude to the future, his countenance so plainly expressed there was no future for him; and they both shrunk from a recurrence to the joys of that dear home which neither hoped again to inhabit.

To a third person it would often have appeared strange that, under such circumstances, a wedded pair, so devotedly attached, should be able to dwell at such length upon the public affairs of the day, and to discuss with so much interest the movements in Scotland.

But the earl could not be indifferent as to what befel the prince to whom he had sacrificed himself; while Lady Nithsdale, on the contrary, since her interview with the Chevalier, in which her feelings had been so little gratified, had looked on him as the unworthy object for which her happiness had been wrecked. As her sorrows pressed more heavily upon her, she felt more and more that he had seemed careless of the sufferings of others. As her fears increased, and as her hopes diminished, she more and more resented the cold inquiry after "the health of the earl her husband;" and the behaviour, which at the time had only seemed measured and unsatisfactory, assumed, as she dwelt upon it, the character of selfish hardness.

Alas! the keen edge of sensibility must have been blunted long ere this in the heart of the unfortunate Chevalier de St. George! Inured to misfortune, he appears to have been stupified by it. With the resolution already taken to evacuate Perth, three days after that appointed for the general thanksgiving, did the infatuated prince carry on the pageant of royalty.

The address then offered up--"O Lord, who hast preserved and brought back our dread sovereign King James safely into his own dominions, to the comfort of all those who, in obedience to thy holy word, 'fear God and honour the king'"--could to none present have appeared a more sickening mockery than to the dispirited, despairing descendant of a hundred kings.

Surrounded by a scanty train of heart-broken attendants, in the midst of those very counsellors who had declared the absolute necessity of abandoning the only town of importance which they yet held,--the very spot where they were assembled in prayer and thanksgiving,--did he listen to the words, "Bow the hearts of all his subjects as one man, so that they may only contend who shall be the first to bring the king to his own house."

When, upon the approach of the Duke of Argyle, a vague rumour arose, that it was purposed to retire before the enemy without striking a blow, the indignation of the Highlanders knew no bounds. The love of fighting, inherent in that hardy race, had caused them to look forward with joy and alacrity to the desperate conflict which they imagined to be approaching.

But when they found that the unwelcome report was only too true grief and disappointment turned all to rage, and they assailed their officers as they passed in the streets with every species of reproach.

"What can we do?" was the answer of one who was supposed to be intimately acquainted with the counsels of the Earl of Mar.

"Do!" replied the Highlander. "Let us do that for which we were called in arms, which certainly was not to run away."

Nor was the retreat carried into effect without meeting with strenuous and vehement opposition, even in the council of the Chevalier; although, after much violence of discussion, at length it was agreed by the majority, that to attempt the defence of Perth would be an act of desperate chivalry.

To appease the feelings of those who appeared most irritated, it was given out that a halt was to take place at Aberdeen, where supplies of foreign troops were expected.

It was on the 30th of January, the anniversary of his grandfather's martyrdom, that the Chevalier's Highland army filed off upon the ice, which, as the Earl of Mar had anticipated, rendered the Tay, if of no avail as a protection, no impediment to the movement which he even then projected.

The town was immediately occupied by a body of the Duke of Argyle's dragoons. The Chevalier arrived at the sea-port town of Montrose, from whence it was his intention to make his escape by sea. To mask his design of thus relinquishing his ill-concerted attempt, and abandoning the faithful few who still adhered to him, his equipage and horses were brought out before the gate of his lodgings, and his guards were mounted as if to proceed on the journey to Aberdeen.

But before the hour appointed for the march, James had secretly gained the shore, and, accompanied by the Earl of Mar, had safely reached a small vessel which had been prepared for their reception. Thus did he for the second time abandon the shores of that land over which so many of his ancestors had reigned, and in which so many of them had given proofs of personal prowess and manly courage. As some of his cotemporaries have observed, the only purpose accomplished by this expedition seems to have been that of bringing off in safety his general, the Earl of Mar.

On General Gordon devolved the unwelcome and difficult task of leading to Aberdeen the remains of the Highland army, who were only restrained from acts of insubordination by knowing that the Duke of Argyle's forces hung upon their rear. At Aberdeen a sealed letter, which had been entrusted to General Gordon, was opened according to the Chevalier's instructions. In this, after expressing his thanks for the faithful services of his adherents, he gave them full permission to treat with the enemy, or to disperse to their several homes, as might best suit the exigency of the moment.

Thus ended the rebellion, which proved so fatal to many of the noblest houses both of England and Scotland! And the Countess of Nithsdale felt almost relieved when each day brought intelligence of the hopeless condition of the insurgents; for she judged, not unwisely, that the less cause there remained to fear them, the less need would there exist of intimidating them by measures of severity.

The 9th of February, on which day the lords were to receive their sentence in Westminster Hall, was fast approaching. On the 8th, Lady Nithsdale passed some hours with her husband. The hopes to which she had so long and so pertinaciously clung had gradually given way before the cold and constrained demeanour with which all her inquiries and intercessions had been met. Evasive answers, professions of inability to be of service to her under the present circumstances, declarations that they must not flatter her, were all the satisfaction she could procure from those who might be supposed to know the probable decision of the court.

The earl, always hopeless, looked upon the worn and anxious countenance of his wife, till every feeling for himself was lost in commiseration for her wretchedness: "It will be better for you, my love, when it is all over."

"What mean you?" she replied quickly, wilfully misapprehending his meaning, which it would have been too painful to comprehend, and vaguely trusting that he would not dare to explain his thoughts more clearly.

"I only mean, this state of suspense, dearest Winifred, has almost worn you out. I shall be glad when the morrow is past, for any certainty is preferable to suspense; though," he added in a lower tone, "I cannot say it is suspense that I feel."

"Spare me, spare me!" she said; "to-morrow is soon enough! But there is hope!--There must be hope! Man is not a wild beast that he should find pleasure in destruction! When self-preservation no longer impels to cruelty, human sympathies will again influence the heart. James's hasty retreat must set their fears at rest. I must--I will hope!"

"Against all reason, dearest!" he added, with a smile, taking her cold passive hand in his. "My Winifred's firm and well-ordered mind has always hitherto been the stay and the support of mine: it has been from her gentle lips that I have learned true piety and real submission; from her that I have learned, or tried to learn, to bend my will to the decrees of Providence! Her support will not now, in my utmost need, be withdrawn from me! she will not make my task more hard! neither will she say or do aught that shall unsettle my mind, or render me unfit for what is to be done to-morrow. She would not have her husband appear in Westminster Hall before his assembled peers, before the court, and before the people of England, with excited feelings and nerves unstrung! And trust me, when I gaze on you, it is no easy task to face death with composure, and to brace my mind to hear unmoved the sentence which awaits me to-morrow. The love of life, of life with you, is only too strong within this bosom. Speak not to me of hope! I must not admit the notion; but speak to me of that heaven where we may be re-united! Tell me that by unrepining submission I may best make myself worthy of once more meeting you, my love; tell me that life is short, and that we have already enjoyed many years of happiness; that we have already mounted the hill, that we must soon descend it; that probably we have known the best years of our existence; that before us may be a future of sickness, sorrow, suffering,--the death of friends! the loss of children!" He paused; then overcome with pity, he added, in a broken voice, "Alas, alas! and shall your gentleness be left to meet these sorrows alone? to buffet with fortune alone? Oh, my poor, poor Winifred! pardon me for having indulged in such sad anticipations; pardon me for having pictured sorrows which can only be alleviated by being shared! for sickness would not to me be suffering if tended by you! grief would lose half its sting if you were near to whisper consolation; and who but the beloved of one's heart can administer comfort under the other deprivations to which I so cruelly alluded? Alas for you, my poor, poor Winifred!"

And the composure which he had so striven to preserve completely gave way when he thus painted to himself the desolation of her whom he should leave behind. He pressed the hand he still held to his lips; and the tears which he could no longer restrain, fell fast upon it.

"Hush, hush! not another word," she said; "I will speak neither words of hope nor fear! my own noble lord shall bear himself in the sight of his fellows as it is fitting he should. No weakness of mine shall enervate that manly mind; though my heart-strings crack, I will be composed and firm. And now we will part for the night; we will each to our prisons: prayer and solitude will best strengthen us for the morrow. Should your anticipations prove only too correct, there is yet much to be done, and I will seek confidence and calmness from that Heaven who will, I trust, take thee this night, and ever, into its holy keeping!"

"Amen to thy good wishes, love!"

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

VOLUME THE SECOND.

WINIFRED, COUNTESS OF NITHSDALE.

(CONTINUED.)