"I can't help admiring your perspicuity, Cornet Stubbs."

Perspicuity was just that quality with which the cornet was not gifted; else he could hardly have failed to notice the tone of irony, in which the compliment was uttered.

"Oh! I ain't afraid of _him_ at all events!"

"What then are you afraid of? Is there any other rival, you think, she's likely to prefer to you? May be young Dayrell; or that rather good-looking son of Sir Roger Hammersley? Either of them, eh?"

"No--nor any one else."

"In that case, why are you in doubt? You think the girl likes you?"

"Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don't. She appears to change every day. But I've reason to believe, she likes me now; or did yesterday."

"How do you know that? Has she told you so?"

"No--not in words; but I think so from her way. I hinted to her, that I intended to have a private talk with her upon an important matter, when we should be out on this hawking party. She appeared delighted at the idea--did, by Ged! Besides; she was in tip-top spirits all the evening after; and several times spoke of the pleasure she expected from to-morrow's sport--that is to-day. Now, what could that mean, unless--"

"Unless the pleasure she antic.i.p.ated from your proposing to her. But if her liking be only on alternate days--as you say--and she was so fond of you yesterday, she might be in the contrary mood to-day? For that reason I'd advise you to suspend proceedings till to-morrow."

"But, captain; you forget that I've got a way that will insure her consent--whether it be to-day or to-morrow."

"Disclose it, my sagacious cornet."

"If I should only give her a hint--"

"Of what?"

"You know how Sir Marmaduke is in your power."

"I do."

"Well; if I only were to slip in a word about her uncle being in danger; not only of his liberty but his life--"

"Stubbs!" cried the cuira.s.sier captain, springing forward fiercely, and shaking his clenched fist before the face of his subaltern; "if you slip in a word about that--or dare to whisper the slightest hint of such a thing--your own life will be in greater danger, than that of Sir Marmaduke Wade. I've commanded you already to keep your tongue to yourself on that theme; and now, more emphatically do I repeat the command."

"Oh! captain," stammered out the terrified Stubbs, in an apologetic whine; "if you don't approve, of course I won't say a word about it. I won't, by Ged!"

"No; you had better not. Win the consent of your sweetheart, after your own way; but don't try to take advantage of a power, that does not appertain to you. A contingency may arise, for disclosing that secret; but it is for _me_, not _you_, to judge of the crisis."

The further protestations of the scared cornet were cut short by the entrance of a messenger; who came to announce that the party, about to proceed on the hawking excursion, was ready to start, and only waited the company of Captain Scarthe and Cornet Stubbs.

Five minutes later, a cavalcade of splendid appearance might have been seen pa.s.sing through Bulstrode Park, towards one of the side gates that opened out to the eastward.

It consisted of Sir Marmaduke Wade, his son, daughter and niece--the two officers, his guests--with a large following of grooms, falconers, and other attendants; a number of them on horseback, with hawks perched upon their shoulders; a still larger number afoot--conducting the retrievers, others _chiens de cha.s.se_, employed in the _venerie_ of the time.

On clearing the enclosure of the park, the gay procession turned in a southerly direction--towards the beautiful lake of Fulmere; which, fed by the Alder "burn," lay embosomed between two parallel spurs of the beech-embowered Chilterns.

Volume Three, Chapter XII.

The Lake "Fulmere" is no longer in existence; though a village--so picturesque, as to appear the creation of a painter's fancy--still retains the name. The "mere" itself--yielding to the all-absorbing spirit of utilitarianism--has disappeared from the landscape--drained off by the brook "Alderburne," and the rivers Colne, and Thames, to mingle its waters with the ocean. Its bed has become a meadow--the residue of its waters being retained in sundry stagnant pools, which serve to supply the neighbouring markets with cress, and the pharmacopoeia of the village apothecaries with "calamus root."

Once a broad sheet of crystal water covered the cress-beds of Fulmere--a sheet with sedgy sh.o.r.es, in which sheltered the bittern, and blue heron, the bald coot, the water-hen, and the gold-crested widgeon.

It was so on that day, when Dorothy Dayrell--the daughter of Sir Frederick, Lord of the Manor of Fulmere--invited her friends to be present at a grand entertainment--including falconry--the spectacle to be exhibited upon the sh.o.r.es of the lake.

Dorothy Dayrell was something more than pretty. She was what might be termed a "dashing creature,"--a little devilish, it is true--but this, in the eyes of her male acquaintances, only rendered her prettiness more piquant. Following the fashion of her father, she was of the true Tory type--devotedly attached to King and State--and blindly believing in that theory--worthy the conception of a community of apes--the "right divine."

Silly as is the belief, it was then entertained, as, now. At that time, human bipeds of both s.e.xes were just as parasitical, as they are at the present hour; and as loudly proclaimed their ign.o.ble longings for King Stork, or King Log. Not, however, quite so unanimously. The word "republic" was beginning to be heard, issuing from the lips of great statesmen, and true patriots. It was beginning to find an echo in remote villages, and cottage homes, throughout all England.

Not that such sentiments had ever been spoken in the village of Fulmere.

To have p.r.o.nounced them there, would have been deemed rank treason; and the rustic giving utterance to them, would have found himself in the pillory, almost before the speech could have pa.s.sed from his lips.

Dorothy hated the idea of a republic; as small-souled people do now, and have done in all ages. We regret having to place the fair Dayrell in this category; but we must succ.u.mb to the requirements of truth; and this compels us to say that Mistress Dorothy, physically, _pet.i.te_, was morally little-minded. Her pretty face, however, concealed the defects of her selfish soul; and, aided by many wiles and winning ways, rendered her sufficiently popular in that large social circle, of which she was, or wished to be, both the star and the centre.

Some proof of her popularity was the crowd that responded to her call, and was present at her hawking party. Scores of people of "first quality"--dames of high degree, and cavaliers appropriate to such companionship--collected upon the sh.o.r.es of Fulmere Lake; cast resplendent shadows upon its smooth surface; and caused its enclosing hills to resound with the echoes of their merry voices.

It is not our purpose to detail the various incidents of the day's sport: how the party, having met at an appointed place, proceeded around the sh.o.r.es of the lake; how the herons rose screaming from the sedge, and the hawks shot like winged arrows after them; how the owners of the predatory birds bantered one another, and wagers were laid and lost by betters of both s.e.xes; and how--when the circuit of the lake had been accomplished, and the adjacent reedy marshes quartered by the spaniels, until cleared of their feathered game--the gay company wended their way to the summit of the adjoining hill; and there, under the shadows of the greenwood trees, partook of an _al fresco_ banquet, which their knightly entertainer had provided for them.

Nor need we describe the conversation--varied of course--always lively under such circ.u.mstances; often witty--after the wine has flowed freely.

One topic alone claims our attention--as it did that of the company. It was introduced by Mistress Dorothy herself--to whom of course every one obsequiously listened.

"I regret," said this charming creature, addressing herself to her splendid surrounding, "that I've not been able to provide you with a more spirited entertainment. After that, we witnessed the other day in Bulstrode Park, our fete will appear tame, I know. Ah! if we only had the _black horseman_ here. How cruel of you, Captain Scarthe, to have deprived us of that pleasure?"

"Mistress Dayrell," replied the officer, on whom the speech had made anything but a pleasant impression, "I regret exceedingly that in the performance of my duty--in dealing with a rebel--I should--"

"No apologies, Captain Scarthe!" interposed Sir Frederick, coming to the rescue of the embarra.s.sed cuira.s.sier. "We all know that you acted, as becomes a loyal servant of his Majesty. It would be well if others, in these doubtful times, would display a like energy." Here Sir Frederick glanced sarcastically towards his neighbour knight--between whom and himself there was not the most cordial friendship. "The only regret is, that the fellow--whoever he may be--was permitted to escape; but, I dare say, he will soon be retaken, and meet with his deserts."

"And what would you deem his deserts, Dayrell?" quietly asked Sir Marmaduke Wade.

"The block!" replied the fiery Sir Frederick, who had been partaking rather freely of his own wine. "What else for an adventurer like him, who conspires against his king? I'd chop off his head like a cabbage."

"By so doing," rejoined Sir Marmaduke, in a tone of satirical significancy, "you would only cause a score of like heads to _sprout_ up in its place."

"Let them sprout up! We'll serve them the same way. We shall still have the power to do so--in spite of this parliament of traitors, which the king has been so foolish as to think of recalling around him."

"Oh, dear father!" interrupted the pretty Dorothy, in a tone of pseudo-sentimentality.

"Don't talk of chopping off heads. What a pity it would be if Captain Scarthe's late prisoner were to lose his! I'm so glad he escaped from you, captain."

"Why is this, girl?" asked Sir Frederick, turning rather sharply upon his daughter. "Why would it be a pity? I've heard you this very morning express the opposite opinion!"

"But I did not know then--that--that--"

"Know what?" interrogated several of the party, who encompa.s.sed the fair speaker.

"That there were _others_ interested in the fate of the unfortunate man.

Ah! deeply so!" A malicious glance towards Marion Wade did not escape the attention of the latter; and it was also noticed by Scarthe.