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He thought now that he had accomplished his task. he would linger about her residence and see Mary Cave once more-just once moreâ€"ere he went into exile again. He trusted none but the King had recognized him ; and he had delivered his packet with such secrecy and rapidity that he could not conceive it possible for any other eye to have perceived the movement. He little knew Montague‘s eagle glance. He little knew that, in spite of his disguise. he had been suspected for more than four-and-twenty hours. and that measures had already been taken for his capture. He would know it all time enough. Let him rest for a moment on the thought of his anticipated meeting with his layde-love. The wishedfor two minutes that were to repay the longings and misgiv- ings of as many years, that he must live upon perhaps for another twelve- month. and be grateful that he has had even such a crumb of comfort for the sustenance of his soul. Strange hunger of the heart. that so little can alleviate, so much fails to satisfy 1 He walked sw1ftly on throth the fragrant meadows, waving with their long herbage, and bright with butter- cups and field-flowers; his head erect. his eye gazing far into the horizon, as is ever the glance of those who_ look forward and not back. BosviJe had still a. future; he hadi not yet thoroughly learned the bitterest of ' all life's lessonsâ€"to live only in the past. 310 ; he was a man still, with a man‘s trust find hope, a man’s courage and self-reliance. amau's energy and endurance. He would want them all before the sun went down. Suddenly a shout smote upon his ear; a voice behind him called on him to stop and sur- render. Halting, and turning suddenly round,he beheld a mounted trooper, the tramp of whose horse had been smothered in the long grass. close behind him ; another was nearing him from the river side. Both had their carbines unslung, and even in the confusion of the moment he had time to perceive an expression of calm confi- dence on each man’s countenance, as though “ Doth it not show us that without the light of Revelation, our own intrinsic blind- ness leads us but farther and farther into error ? That man, with all his self sufficient pride. is but a child in leading-strings at his best ; that he must have his hopes and fears, his tears and smiles, like a child ; and that though he wince from the chesteu- ing Hand, it deals ‘ its stripes in mercy, alter all. Yet. Herbert, have I often found it in my heart to envy these callous natures. tno. Would that I could either plaice complete reliance on Heaven, or eteel myself entirely against the anxieties and {idea- tinns of earth. Would thatI could keep down the turbulent heart that risesm wrath against the treatment it feels it has not deserved; that longs so wearily for the absent, that aches so painfully for the dead, that cannot stifle its repiuings for the pest. nor cease to hope in a future. which becomes every day darker and more threatening. No tidings, end yet no tidings,” proceeded the King. in a. lower voice, and musing as it were aloud. whilst his large eyes gazed far ahead into the horizon; “ and yet letters may have been sent. may have been intercepted. I am so watched. so sur- rounded. Still there might be means. There are loyal hearts left in England. though many are lving cold. Alas, it is a weary. wearv world! Yonder is a happy man. Herbert. if you will," added Charles, brightening up. and once more addressinu his conversation to his companion. " He has not P. care for ought but the business in hand. He is a Steie. a king. 9, cobblerâ€"whet you wiJ. Good faith 1 he should be a successful fishermen at the worst ; I have watched him for the last ten minutes as we rode along. Doth he see kings and courts every day that he hath not once lifted his head from his angle to observe us, or is he indeed the sage of Whom we have been talkingâ€"the ‘ sutor Loans at mlus for- masus, 21 est Tees 3'“ As the King spoke he pointed to an angler who having taken upa. position on Bramp- ton-Bridge, had been leaning there immov- able. undisturbed by the noise of the up- proachiug csmaJcmieH and apparently totally devoid of the two sentiments of admiration and curiosity which the neighborhood of a sovereign is accustomed to provoke. HOLMB Y HOUSE. The man seemed deaf or stupid. He re- mained leaning against the broken parapet. apparently uncoucious of everything but his rod and line. which he watched vigilantly, with his hat drawn over his brows, and his cloak mufliing his face to the eyes. Lord Monmague pressed forward to bid the auglur stand out of the way. and leave room for Royalty to pass ; but the King who was an admirable horseman. edged his lordship so near the undefcnded brink of than half- ruined bridge. that Montague was fan] to fall hack with a how and an inward thanks giving that he 1mg not overhead in the river. Etiquette forbade any 01159 else to ride in front of the Sovereign, and Charles was consequently at the head of the party, who now (it-filed singly across the bridge. The latter started and turned ; quick as thought; we thrust a small packet into his Majesty‘slmnd, and almost with the same movement flung himself upen his neat at the royal stilrup in a paroxysm of pretended agitation and diflidence as un- real as the negligence for which it afiected to stone. "By your leave, good man, ” quoth Charles, who, though some- Whntlinughty. particularly since his rewr- see with his nobility, was ever courteous and good-bummed to those of lmmbler birth: "there is scant room for us both. and the weakest. well we know. must go to the wall.” While the King spoke. his knee as he sat in the saddle. touched the back of the preoccu- pie_d fisherman. Rapid as was the movement, it sufliced for Charles to recognize his trusty adherent. He crumpled the paper hurriedly into his glove. “Faithful and true I” he whispered “save thyself ! ” and added aluud for the edifica- tion of his attendants “N 4y. good man ! we excuse thv rudeness on account of thy bodily infirmity. Look that thou benot trodded down by 1655 skiltulnders and less manageable steeds." As he spoke the King passed on to the other side, followed by all his attendants save only the Lord Montague, who had turned back to give directiuns toapatrol of the Parliamentary cavalry which had arrived at the bridge at the same mo ment as the Royal oavalcade, and had drawn up to pay the military compliments due to sovereign. The patrol, consisting of two efficient- looking dragnons, were remarkably well mounted and armed, in addition to swords and pistols. with long deadly carbines, They listened attentively to Lord Moutague’s di- rections ; and While his lordship rode off in pursuit of the King and his party. scanning the fishermen us he passed him with a strange look of malicious triumph, each sol- dier unslung his carbine, and shook the powder carefully up into his pan. The annlers back was turned, and he fished on without looking lound. The King looked back repeatedly. as he rose the hill in the direction of Boughtnn. Once he, beckoned Lord Montague to ride alongside of him "We thought we had lost your good com- pany, my lord,” quoth his Majesty ; “what. madreiypu turn back down yonder by Bramp- “I dropped my glove, youx Majesiy."r plied the nobleman, scar'cely concealing: smile. “Whoever picks it up. my lord. will find a bitter me my I ” answered Charles ; and he spoke not ancther word till he reached the great gates of Lord Vaux's hospitable hall. ton Mill ? " Meanwhile the angler, resuming his 00- cupation, fished steadily on, glancing ever and auon at the retreating troop of horsemen who accompanied the King. When the last plumel hat had disappeared over the verge of the acclivity. strode briskly away. with the air of a man who has performed a good day’s work. and is about to receive for the same a good day's wages. he was sure of'his prey. For an instant his very heart seemed to tighten with a thrill of surprise and keen disappointment; but it was not the first t1me by a good many that Humphrey had looked a catastrophe in the face, and in that instant he had time to think what he should do. Twenty yards in front of him grew 3 high luxuriant hedge ; in that hedge was a gap fortified by a strong oaken rail. The toremost horseman’s hand was almost on his shoulder‘when he dashed forward and cleared at a bound. Accustomed to make up his mind in a moment. his first idea was to run under shelter of the fence down to the river, and place the st1eam be- tween himself and the pursuers trusting that neither heavily armed trooper would choose to risk man and ho1se In deep water. Alas l on the opposite bank he spied another patrol gesticulaung to his comrades, and watching for him should he attempt to land. In the meantime his first pursners. both remarkably well mounted, had ridden their horses boldly over the fence. and Were once more close upon his tracks. In another stride he must be struck down and made a prisoner I But. as is often the case. at the supreme moment succor was at hand. Not twenty yards in front of the fugitive stood Hugh D‘vmncke, holding his sorrel by the bridle. The wily old soldier had anticipated this catastrophe the whole morning. and was not to be taken unawares at the crisis. He had been watching the movements of the fisherman and the patrol. nor. except for achunce shot, had he much fear of the result. With a rush and a bound, like that of some stricken wild deer, Humphrey reached the sorrel and vaulted into the saddle. As he turned the horse’s head for the open meadow with a thrill of exultation and delight, Dymocke let go the bridle and hurriedly whispered in his ear, “ God speed ye, master! Never spare him for pace ; he had a gallop yesterday, and he's fit to run for a" man’s life l” Ere the sentence was finished ibey were 9. hundred yards ofl. and the guod horse, flinging his head into the air and snatching wildly at his bridln, indulged in a few bounds and plunges in his gallop are he settled down into the long sweeping stride his rider remem- bered so well. With a bitter curse and a shrewd blow from the butt of his carbine, which Dymooke avoided like a practised tactician. the fore- most trooper swept by the old soldier, calling to his comrade in the rear to secure him and take him'to head quarters. Both were, howh ever. so intent on the pursuit that Dymooke. greatly to his surprise, found himself totally unnoticed, and walked quietly home with his usual air of staid gravity, reflecting. much to his own satisfaction. on the speed and mettle of his favorite and the probable safety of his young muster. And now the chase begun in serious earnest. It was a race for life and death and the competitors were well aware of the value of the stakes dependant on their own skill and the speed of the horses they beâ€" strode. Each trooper knew that a. large sum of money and speedy promotion would reward his capture of the Royalist. whom they had now succeeded in identifying. Each was mounted on a thoroughly good horse whose powers he had often tested to the utmostend each was moreover armed to the teeth ,whilst the fugitive possessed. no more deadly weapon than the but of his fishing-red. which he had retained unconsciously in his hand. Being two to one they had also the great advantage of being able to assist each other in the pur- suit, and like grey-hounds coursing it here, could turn the quarry wherever opportunity offered into each other's jaws. Despite of broken ground. of blind ditches choked with grass, and high leafy hedges rich in midsum- mer luxuriance. through which they crushed, bruising a thousand fragrant blossoms in their transit, they speed fiercely and reckless- ly on. All along the low grounds by Bramp- ton. where the rich meadows were divided by strong thorn fences. the constantly recurring obstacles compelled Humphrey, bold rider as he was, to diverge occasionally from a straight course, and this was an incalculable ad vantage to his two his two pursuers. who, by playing as it were into each other’s hands, were enabled to keep within sight and even within shot of the pursued, though the pace at which they were all going forbade any appeal to tire-arms, or indeed to any weapons except the spurs. But on emerging from the low grounds into a comparatively open country and rising the hill toward Brixworth. the greater stride and speed of the sorrel began to tell. His condi- tion. moreover‘ was far superior to that of the troopers. and it was with a glow of exultatxon not far removed from mix th, that Humphrey. finding at last a hand to spare With which to caress his favorite, looked back at. his toiling pursuers, whose horses were now beginning no Show undoubted symptoms of having had enough. Even in mid-winter, when the leaves are of the formidable blackthorns, and the ditch- es. cleared of weed and grass, yawn in all their naked avidity for the reception and ultimate sepulture of the horse and his rider, it is no child’s play to cross one of these strongly-fenced Northamptonshire valleys. Ay, with all the fictitious excitementproduced by the emulation of hunting. and the insatiâ€" able desire to be nearer and nearer still to that fleeting vision which, like happiness, is always just another stride beyond our reach ; though the hounds are streaming silently away a field in front of us; though the good horse between our legs1sf1esh ardent andexperienced; though we have already disposed of our dearest friend on his |best l1unte1 at that last “ double,” and are sanguine in our hopes of getting well over yonder strong rail. for which we are even now “ hsrdening our heart" and shortening our stride ; though we hope and trust we shall go triumphantly on. from fence to fence. rejoicing. and at last see the good fox run into the middle of a fifty-acre grass field,â€"yet for all this we cannot but feel that when we have traversed two or three miles of this style of country. without pros- tration or mishap, we have effected ne cou- temptible feat of equitation. We have earned for the nonce a consciousness of the thorough self-satisfaction intensely gratifying to the vanity of the human heart. And so perhaps it was one of the pleasantest moments of Humphrey’s life when he pulled the son-e1 into a trot and looked hack upon the vale below. The horse snorted and shook h‘s head. He was only breathed by the gallop that had so distressed the steeds of the two Parliamentarians. His master patted him loudly and exultingly once again. What a ride he had enjoyed ! how the blood coursed through his veins with the anxiety, and the excitement. and the exer- cise. For two years he had not mounted what could be called a horse. certainly not one that could be compared with the sorrel. How delightful it was to feel his favorite bound under him as he used to do. once more! What a sensation to speed along those rich meadows. scanning fence after fence as he approached it, and flying over the places he had marked out. like a bird on the wing, to themnspsakable discomfiture of the dragoons toiling on his track. How gallantly he had cleared the 1ivulet that the two soldiei «1 had been forced to flounder through. Well for them that it had shrunk to its summer limits, or they would have been there still. and now in another mile or so he would be safe. His pursuers horses were too much exhausted even to continue on his track They would soon lose all traces of him. Near VOL. XXII Brixworth village was a cottage in which he had already passed two or three nights whilst waiting to fulfil his mission. Its owner was a veteran who had fought in his own troop at Edge~hill and Newbury. who would think little of imperilling his life for his old officer and King Charles. Arrived at the cottage, he would disguise himself again, and sending his sorrel out or the way, would lie hid till the search was past ; he might then venture a few miles from his hiding place, and at last reach the seashore and embark scatheless for the Continent. In this manner, too, he would have a chance of seeing Mary once more be- fore he departed. Trotting: gently along. he was thus busily weaving the thread of his schemes and fan- cies, and his bones and fears, when alas ! the web was suddenly dispelled by a shot I The crafty Parliamentarians finding themselves completely outstripped by the sorrel. and aware of a picket of their 'comrades stationed close under the village of Brixworth, had turned their attention to driving their quarry as much as possible towards the hill. In this they had been successful, and Hum~ phrey’s line of flighthad already brought him within a. few hundred yards of the enemy‘s post. As is otten the case, however, their strict anxiety to preserve themselves unseen. had somewhat abated the vigilance of their look-out, and Boeville. accidentally changing his direction. narrowly escaped pass- ing the negligent picket without observation or interruption. But the veterans who pursued him were skilled in all the various prac~ ticea of war; the leading horseman. quietly dismounting from his jaded steed, slowly levelled his carbine. and took a long roving shot at the fast diminishing figure oithe fugitive. The bullet whistled harmlea§ly over Humphrey‘s head. but the report roused the inattentive sont-ry in ad- vance of the picket, and the well known inund of a trump it rang out Within musket ange. whilst a dozen horaemonomorgiug from a clump of woes not two hundrod yards to his right, dashed forward at. u gallop, with the obvious intention niintemepting or rid- ing him down. They. for their part, seemed determined to make every effort for his capture. dividing into parties so as to cover as large an extent of oountryas pissible. and to prevent any attempt. at burning or dodging on the part of the quarry. and forcing him by his means inco aline of diificulh and broken ground, such as must at last tell even on the power and stride of the indefatigable sorrel. The two original pursuers. moreover. whose horses had bythis time recovered their wind, lab- ored on at a reduced poce along the low grounds, so that a diversion in that direc- tion was impossible. There was nothing for it but to go straight ahead. and straight ahead he went. laughing a strange Wicked laugh to himself. as he thought of the Northern “TaterK no mean tribâ€" utary to the Name which was even now gleamâ€" ing in the distance a. mile or so in front of him, and reflecting that if he were once well over such a. " yawner" as that. he might trot on and seek safety at his le'surc, for not a. dozen horses in England could. clear it from bank to bank ! He trusted, nevertheless, that the sorrel was one of them. So he spared and nursed him as much as possible, choosing his ground with the practised eye of a sportsman. and bringing into use every one of the many methods which experience alone teaches. and by which the perfect horseman can assist and ease his steed. At the pace he led his pursu~ are. he cared but little to be out of musket shot. and he reserved all the energies both of himself and his horse for a clash at the North- ern Weter.‘ Down the hill they came at headlong pace : the troopers. espyiug Bosville’s object, now telxhll their energies. to catch him are he can reach the brook, and spurs are piled and bridles shaken with all the mad recklessness of s. neck-and-neck race. Humphrey‘s spirits rise with the situation. He longs to gives vent to his excitement in a wild “hurrah" as a man does in a charge, but he is restained from the fear of madden- ing his horse. already roused by the shouts and clatter behind him, and pulling harder than his wont. Were he is to get the least out of his hand now it would be fatal. Unarmed 213 he was, and notwithstanding the number of his foes, Humphrey never lost heart for a moment. "Not trapped yet, my lads ! ” he ground out between his teeth. as with a grim smilelle caught the sorrel fast by the head, and urged him once more to his speed, reflecting, with fierce exultation on the mettle and endurance of his favorite, still going fresh and strong beneath him. and on the “neck or nothing” nature of the chase, in which his only safety lay in placing some in- surmountable obstable between himself and his pursuers. He steadies him gradually till within a hun- dred yards of the brink, and regardless of his followers’ close vicinity, pulls him back al- most into a center-then tightening hls grasp on the bridle, and urging him with all the collective energies of knee, and thigh. and lions, he sets him going once more, the horse pointing his small resolute ears, the rider marking with his eye asedgy patch of the soundest ground from which he intends their efforts shall be made. SLmining on his bridle. the sorrel bounds high into the air, the wafers flash beneath them, and they are lauded safe on the far side with half a foot to spare! Humphrey gives a cheer now. and a beauty cheer it is, in answer to the yell of rage and dis- appointment that rises from the baflied Par- liamentarians. Was there ever man yet that coull “ leave well enough alone ?” Alas ! that we should here have to record the only instance of bravado on. the part of our hero during the whole of his per- ilous and adventurous career. What demon prompted him to waste the precious moments. in jeering at a defeated foe? Humphrey could not resist the temptation of pulling up to wave an ironical “farewell” to his pursuers. The movement was fetal; 1n muking it. he turned his broadside to the enemy, and half a, dozen carbines were discharged at him on the in- stant. One bullet truer than the rest found its home in the honest heart of the good sor- rel. The horse plunged wildly forward. fell upon his head. recovered himself â€"fell once more, and rolling over his rider, lay quivering in the last convulsions of death. When Humphrey had extricated himself from the saddle and risen to his feet, he had no heart to make any further efiort for his escape. He might perhaps have still had time to elude his enemies even on foot, but the strongest nature can only resist a given amount of difficulty and disappointment. ’Tis the last. drop that bids the cup brim overI the last ounce that sinks the laboring camel in the sand. He was weak, too, from mental anxiety as from bodily privation. from the conflion of his feelings as from the harassing nature of his task. Brave, generous, hopeful as he was, something seemed to give way within him at this last stroke of fortune. and when his captors, after making a long circuit to cross over by a ford, arrived to take him prisoner, *A fair leap in the present day. when, under its latcr appellation of the “ Brixwotm Brook," it. spoils many asilk jacket, as the flower of the British army can test‘ty, who. in their modern substitute for Tilt. and Tournament, yclepb " The Gram Mititary Steeple chase," plunge who its profound with a reckless haste truly edifying to the lean adventurous eivnian RICHMOND HILL, THURSDAY, DEC; 18, 1879. We left our honest friend Dymocke. with the sweep of the trooper’s carbine still whistl- ing in his ears, sauntering quietly home- wards, his grim visage bespeakiug more than usual safisfactiou, his mental reflections sometimes rising soliloquy. and taking much such a form as the following. they found him sitting on the ground. with the sonel’s head upon his knees, weeping like a woman or a. child over the dead horse he had loved so well. “ Safe!" shouted Sir Giles with a loud “ hurrah I" that shook the very rafter: of the hall. “ Ayl safe enough, no doubt. with that good horse beneath him, it he did get nfair start! We‘ll drink the aorrel‘a health. my lord, thi; very night, after the King‘s." g" Safe 1” echoed Lord Vaux : “ delivered out of the jaws of death. Blood has been shed more than enough in thass disastrous times, and I thank 9. merciful Providence that his young life has been spared. ” A “ Ah l Hugh 1 Hugh 1" quoth the old soldier, npostrophizing the individual whom of all in the world he should have known best. “ there’s few of them can hold a candle to thee. old lad i when the teckle’s got fairly in a coil. Brave lâ€"-these’s plenty of ’em brave enoughâ€"leastways there’s plenty of 'em afraid not to seem so â€"but it’s dia- eretion. lad. it‘s discretion that’s wanting; and thankful ought thou to be, that thou’st gotten enough for thyself and the whole household. There’s not a. man of ’em. now, could have managed this business, and net made a botch of it ! Take the old lord to begin with. He’d have gone threatening and petitioning. and offering money and what not, till the Major was blown just the some as if he‘d had him cried in the market. That’s the way with your quality ; they can’t abide to see a thing stand simmering ; they must needs go shaking the frying-pan. and then they wonder that all the fat’s in the fire. The women! I’ll not deny but the women are keen hands at plotting and planning. and meny’s the good scheme they hit upon, no doubt. but where they fail is in the doing of it. It‘s ‘ not now.’ or ‘ I’m so frightenedl‘ or a tit of crying just in the nick of time; and then the clock strikes or the bell rings, and it's too late. For the women must either wait too long. or else they’ll not wait long enough, so it’s as well they Wasn’t trusted to have anything to do with it. As for the steward, it‘s my opinion he‘s a rogue l and rogue was never good for anything yet that wanted a bit of ‘heart’ to set it straight and the rest of ’em's fools one bigger than another, there's no gainsnying that. “ No! there was just one man that could do it, and he‘s gone and done it. To think of the sense of the dumb animal. too ! Never but once did he neigh the whole blessed morning though there was his master fishing Within a pistol shot of him; and. every time he come by the turn of the meadow he laid his ears back as much as to say, ‘I see you! I am ready for you when you want me.’ Reedyl I believe he was ready. I should know a. good horse when I'm on him ; but the way he came round the park with me yesterday afternoon . Oh l it’s no use talking. A hawk's one thing. and a round shot‘s another ; but he's the fastest horse in Northamptonshire at this blessed moment. and well he need to be. St. George l to see the example he made of those tw-S l and the Major sitting down upon him so quiet, the way I always told himI liked to see him ride. popping here and popping there, with the horse as steidy as a. pselm singer. and every yard they went the soldiers getting farther and farther behind. Well the ladies will be best pleased to hear the Major's safe 03‘ no doubt of that ; and my pretty Faith, she won‘t cry her eyes out to see me come back in a whole skinâ€"poor little wo- man l she hasn’t the nerves of a hen. It was a precious coil. surely. and precious well I’ve got ’em all out of it. There‘s few things that can’t be done by a. men of discretion, ’speeially when he's got the care of such a horse as that l" Dymocke hp. arrived at home by the time he reached this conclusion. His self-satisfac- tion was unbounded. His triumph complete. It was well for him that his powers of vision were limited by distanceâ€"that he possessed no intuitive knowledge of the events of the day. It would have .broken honest Hugh down altogether to imow that the good sorrel was lying within four miles of him. down there by the Northern Water, with a bullet through his heart. Bututhe news he brought was right gladly received by every one of the anxious inhabi- tants? of the old hougeiqf ppughtgr}. “Safe! "repeated Grace Allonby. with a. sparkling glance at her father. and the old smile dimpling her triumphant face. “Far out of danger by this time. and perhaps not recognized. after all." “Safe!” whispered Mary Cave. keeping out of observation as much as posmble, her hands clasped tight upon her bosom, and her eyes looking up to heaven, filled with tears. When the intelligence thus reached them. the party were assembled in the great hall immediately subsequent to the King’s depar- ture. Whilst lienored by the presence of Royalty, Dymocke had no opportunity of wmmunicatiug With any of the family, and being, as he himself opined. a particular dis- creet individual, he wisely abstained from dropping the slightest hint of his errand that might in any waycompromise his employers, or afiordaclue to his connection with the fugitive fishermen. Even I‘aith was not esteemed worthy of his confidence till he has made his report to her superiors; and to do her justice. that de- serving damsel was so much taken up by the presence of Royalty, and her own multifarious duties of assisting to provide refresh- ments for the attendants who waited on the King. that the only no- tice she vouchsafed her admirer was a saucy inquiry as to whether “he had been courting all the morning 1’” to which Hugh replied with a grim leer, “it was like enough, since he confidently expected to be married next month ;” whereat she blushed, and bade him “go about his business," returning with much composure to the prosecution of a demure flirtation, on which she had even now entered, with a solid sedate yeoman of the guard. The King's visit was short'and ceremonious enough. His manner to Lord Vaux and Sir Giles Allonby was as gracious as usual, the few words Ire addressed to she young ladies kindly and paternal as his wont ; but his Majesty was evidently pro-occupied and ill at ease l The intelligence he had that morning received from Mary harassed and disturbed him, though indeed somewhat to her surprise he had made no further allusion to it. and in- deed addressed but a. few commonplace re- marks to that lady. ’ It was evident to her that he was brooding over the threatened violation of his personal liberty. which was in effect about to take place that same night, and that his appra- liensicn united with other causes to make him very anxious and unhappy. The letter from the Queen, which Humphrey had de- livered at such risk, was also unsatisfactory and distressing. He had looked for his epistle for weeks, and when it come at lalt. behold I he had been happiex not to have uceived t. CHAPTER XXXI. “ FOR THE KING I" So the ladies sauntered out into the park, and enjoyed the balmy summer afternoon, and the luxuriant summer fragrance of leaf and blossom, and the hum of the sum- mer insects all astir 1n the warmth of June. Grace laughed out merrily, as she used to do years ago ; and Mary’s step was lighter, her cheek rosier than it had been of late as they discoursed. The King's visit. and the peculiarities of the courtiers, formed their natural topics of conversation ; but each lady felt a weight taken from her heart, and a. sensation of inexpreseible relief which had nothing to do with kings or courtiers, save in as far as the actions of those important per- sonages aflected the fortunes of one Major Humphrey Bosville. She colored deeply with gratified pride, and a. sense of duty strenuously and consistently fulfilled. Poor Mary l it was the last act of homage she was destined ever to pay the Sovereign in whose cause she would Willingly have laid down her life. The damask rose was fresh. and bright and fragrantâ€"the very type of beauty and prosperity, and a worm was eating it away, silently and surely, at. the core. We must now return to that adventurous gentleman, gradually awakening to a sense of his situation as he sat on amtv-boned troop. horse between two stern-visaged Roundhead dragoons. his elbows strapped tight to his aides, his feet secured beneath his horse’s belly : and notwithstanding such impedi- ments to activity, his attempts to escape, if indeed any were practicable. threat- ened with instant death by his rignrous cus- todians. Under these circumstances. Charles was unable, according to his custom, to forget all other considerations in the trifles on which he was immediately employedâ€"could not as usual throw himself heart and soul into the fluctuations of the game, as though life offered no other interest than a bowl and bias â€" did not, even {or the short half-hour of his re- laxation, succeed in stifling the bitter cou- sciousness that he was a prisoner, though 9. king. With his usual grave demeanor and mild dignified bearing, he played one set with the old Earl of Pembroke and a few others of his suite. Lord Vaux and Sir Giles Allonby stand- ng by to hand his Majesty the implements of the game. and then taking his leave with sad and gentle courtesy, the Monarch called for his horses to depart, resisting his host‘s humble entreaties that he would re enter the house and partake of a. collation ere he rode. “ ‘Tisa fair tree and a fragrant,” observed Charles, stopping in his progress ; “grateful to those who, like myself, love the simple beauties of a garden better than the pomp s and splendors of a Court. In faith, the husbandmau’s is a happier lot than the King's. Yet hath he, too, his anxieties and his disappointments. Fronts nip the hopes of his earliest blossoms ; and the pride even of successful maturity’a is the commencement of decay.” As the King spoke, Mary. from an impulse she could not resist, plucked the handsomest flower from its stem and presented it to her Sovereign. He accepted it with a grave courtesy pecuiiar to him. “ If we ever meet at Whitehall, Mistress Mary," said Charles, with his melancholy smile, “neither you not I will forget the blood-red rose presented to me this day by the most loyal of all my loyal subjects. Had other hearts been true as yours.” he added, inalow solemn voice, “I had not been a mimic King. soon to lose the shade and semblance of royalty." As he spoke, with a courtly nbeisance be mounted his horse and departed, riding slowly and dejectedly, as though loth to return to his palace, where he had already anticipated the insults and humiliations to which he was about to be subjectrd. After the King‘s departure. however. Dy- mocke’s intelligence was imparted to rejoice the hearts of the somewhat dejected Royalists. When people are thoroughly “broken in,” so to speak. and accustomed to misfortune, it is wonderful how small a gleam of comfort serves to shed a light upon their track, and dissipate the the gloom to which they have become habituated. Everything goes by com- parison, and n. scrap of broken meat is a rich feast to a. starving man: nevertheless, the process of training to this enviable state is painful in the extreme. The Major accepted it as a compliment that not less that eight men and a. sergeant were esteemed a sufficient force to secure the person of the unarmed fisherman. This formidable escort was commasderi by his old acquaintance. “ Ebenezer the Gideonite," who still slung his carbine across his back in the manner that had once saved his life; and who, to do him justice, bore his old antagonist. not the slightest malice for his own discomfiture on that occasion. It was composed, moreover, of picked men and horses from the very flower 0! the Parliamen- tary cavalry. Walking down the terrace to the gate at which the horses awaited him. accompanied by Lord Vaux and the two ladies, and fol- lowed at the prescribed distance by his per- sonal attendants, a. damask rose-tree on which Mary had expended much time and care. caught the King‘s attention. and elicited his admiration, tinged as usual with the prophetic melancholy that imbued his tem- perauient. it is often thus with subjects as well as kitjgs: Humphréy rode in the midst of them and tried to recal his scattered senses. and realize the emergency of his presept position.» Weak and worn out. we have already said that after his horse was shot he had fallen an easy prey to his pursuers. When brought before the officer in command of the party that had captured him. he was neither in a mood nor a condition to answer any ques- tions that might be put. The subaltern's orders, however. seemed sufficiently peremp- tory to absolve him from the vain task of cross- examining a fainting and unwilling prisoner. In the event of capturing a certain mysterious agent desmibed he was strictly appointed to forward him at once to the Par- liament with as much secrecy and dispatch as was consistent with the security of the cantive. So after providing Humphrey with the food and drink of which he stood so much in need, and suffering him to take a. short interval of repose, whilst men mustered and horses fed, the officer started prisoner and escort withoutdelay on the road to Lon- don. There it came to pass that while Grece Allonby and Mary Cave were taktng their afternoon stroll through the park at Bough- ton, Humphrey Bosville and his escort were winding slowly down the hill on the high road ta the metropolis. The Major's eye brightened as he caught eight of their white dresses. and recognized the form of the woman he had loved so long and so dearly. He started with an involun- tary gesture that'brought the hands of his guardians to trigger and sword hilt. Al- though at a. distance, it was something to see her just onqe again. The ladies were turning homeward when, startled by the tramp of horses, both were aware of an armed party advancing in their immediate vicinity. An unconscious presentment prompted each at the same mo- ment to stop and see the troop pass by. The captive’s heart leapt within him as he rode near enough to scan every lineament of the dear old face he might never hope to ' look npon_agnir_l. ” Tb‘éy have a prisoner l" exclaimed Mary, m Tee‘y “ Herbert," said he, taking up at the same time his jewelled George and Garter, which, with his customary attention to trifles, he in- sisted should be placed near his bedâ€"head, “ Herbert. you are becoming negligent ; you have omitted to lay these gaudsâ€"empty vani- ties that they are l â€"in their accustomed place. Also this morning you neglected to observe the command I gave last night." H15 Majesty spoke with a grave and some~ what haughty air, which concealed a covert smile. The attendant, in some confusion and no little surprise at the unusual displeaéure of the King’s tone, admitted that he had aroused his Majesty five mmutes too late, and pleaded in extenuatiou the usual excuse of a. discrep- ancy amongst the clocks. The King preserved an ominous frown. Not andtherw word did either speak. They looked blankly into each other’a faces, and Grace burst into a flood of tears. As Herbnrt backed respectfully from the room, the King recalled him, as though for a few minutes‘ confidential conversation. “THE BEGINNING OF THE END.” The soft June night sank peacefully upon Holmby Palace. with all its conflicting inter- ests, all its complications of intrigue and treachery, as it sank upon the yeeman’s‘ adjoining homestead, and the shepherd‘s humble cottage in the vale helm". The thrush had finished the last sweet tones of her pro- tracted even song. and not a sound disturbed the surrounding stillness. save an occasional note from the nightingale in the copse, and the murmur of a fountain playing drowsiiy on in the garden. Calmly the stars shone out in mellow lustre. looking down, as it seemed. mild and reproachful en the earth- worms here below. What are all the chances and changes. all the sorrows and struggles, of poor graveling mortality in the sight of thOse spirit eyes? Age after age have they glimA mored on, careless as now of man’s engross- ing troubles and man’s predestined end. They shone on Nsseby field. whitening in their faint light, here a .grinning skull, there a bleached and fleshless bone turned up by the hind’s careless ploughshare, or the labor- er's busy spade, as they shone on Holmby Palace, stately in its regal magnifi‘ cence, sheltering under its roof a circle of plot- ting courtiers, with a doomed King ; and their beams fell the same on both. cold, pitiless. and unvarying. What are they, these myriads of flaming spheres? Are they worlds ? are they inhabited? are they solid anthracite, or but luminous vapor? material masses. or only an agglomeration of particles ? Can their na- ture be grasped by the human intellect, or deâ€" fined in the jargon of science? Oh for the child’s sweet simple faith once more, that they are but chinks in the floor of Heaven. h-om which the light of eternal day shines through i ’Wc have often thought that this! habit of being constantly. to a certain extent, before the public. may account in great measure for the fortitude and dignity so often displayed in critical moments by sovereigns who have never before been suspected of possessing these Spartan virtues. Never, like a humbler individual, in his most unguarded hours of privacy entirely throwing oi? the character which it is his duty to sustain. a. sovereign. even a weakminded one, acquires a. habit of reticcnce and self~command which becomes at last second nature ; and he who is every day of his life obliged to appear a hero to his valet d8 chambre, finds little difliculty in sustaining the part to which he is so well accustomed under the gaze of a mul- titude. even in a moment of general confusion and dismay. turning as white as her dress: “ God's mercy! it is} Humphrey.” “ You are aware," said he. “ that I never nnrdon a. fault, nor overlook even the most trifling mistake. Have you not. often heard me called harsh, vindictive. and exacting ? I have prepared your punishment; I trust I will admonish you for the future. Here is a gold watch.” he added. his assumed displeasure vanishing at once in a hearty burst of laughter at the scared ex- pression of his attendant’s countenance. “a gold alarm-watch, which as there may be cause shall awake you. Wear it for Charles Stuart’s sake ; and years hence, when per- haps he is no more, may it remind you of the stern, unkindly sovereign, who. albeit he valued to the utmost theafiection and fidelity of his servant, could not pass over the slight- est omission without some such token of his displeasure as this." After “the word for the night” had been given a word which it seemed a. mockery to ask the prisoner himself to select. and the other attendants had been dismissed, after Doctor Wilson had paid the customary visit and received to his respectful inquiries the customary answer that nothing was amiss with the royal health, preserved as it was by the rigid and undeviating temperance. Mr. Herbert. as groom-in-waiting, presented the King with an ewer and cloth, making at the same time the prescribed obeisance, and set- ting a night-lamp, consisting of a round cake of wax in a sRver basin, on a chair. proceeded himself to retire to the couch prepared for him in a. small ante room opening into the apartment occupied by his Majesty, so that the King might not, even in the watches of the night. be left entirely alone. The King was preparing to retire for the night. Notwithstanding all the anxieties and apprehensions that had arisen from the warn- ing he had that morning received, notwith- standing the reception of his Queen’s letterâ€" a document by no means calculated to soothe his feelings or alleviate his distressâ€"the force of habit was so strong that the numerous preparations for his Majesty's “ coucher" were made with as scrupulous an attention to the most trifling minutiae as when he was in- duced with all the pomp of real royalty and consciousness of actual power long ago at Whitehall. So speaking. and good-humoredly pushing Herbert from the room, he bade him a cordial “good night.” leaving the groom of his bedA chamber more devoted to his person, if pos- sible, than before. Such was one among many instances 'of Charles benevolent disposition ; such little acts of kindness as this endeared him to all with whom he came in daily contact, and the charm of such a temperament accounts at once for the blind devotion on the part of his followers, commanded by one who was the most amiable and accomplished of private gentlemen. as he was the most injudicious of and inefficient of kings. Musing upon the fortunes of his master, and regretting in his affectionate nature his own powerlessness to aid the sinking mon» arch, Herbert fell into a broken and dis- turbed slumber. from which. however, he soon awoke, and observed. somewhat to his dismay, that the King‘s chamber was in perfect darkness The door of communica- tion being left open, in case his services should be required during ho night. the at- tendant's first impulse was to rise and reâ€" light the lamp. which he concluded had been accidentally extinguished. He was 10th. however. to disturb the King‘s rest, and whilst debating the point in his own mind, fell off to sleep. Afters. short slumber, he was again aroused by the King’s voice calling to him. and was surprised to see that the lamp had been rekindled. “Herbert,” said his master, “ I am restless and cannot sleep. Thou wilt find a volume WHOLE N0.1,116.â€"â€"N0, 28. CHAPTER XXXII‘ With a numerous body of cavalry at his disposal,he had beenrayll day occupied in con- centrating them silently and steathily around the beleaguered palace. His main body had that afternoon bivouncked on Harleston Heath. strong pickets had been placed in every secluded spot which admitted of concealment within a circuit of a few miles, and constant patrols had been watching every road by which an escape from Holmby was practice» ble. As darkness fell he had pushed forward his several posts to one common centre. and by the hour of midnight a summer moon shone down 011 the courtyard of Holmby Pal- ace. filled with a mass of ironclad cavalry, whose numbers rendered resistance hopeless and impossible. Colonel Graves and General Browne. how- ever, two old Parliamentary officers, seemed to have had some inkling that an attack was meditated; for without any apparent reason they had doubled the guards around the King‘s person, and contrary to their wont had remained astir till midnight. When the first files of the approaching cavalry marched into the court, they had called upon the hand- ful of soldiers and yeomen that formed the garrison to resist to the death, and had them- selves held a parley with the redoubtable Cor- net. \V hen asked his name and business, h had replied, with the same bluntness that 5% discomfited Maxwell, that “his name was Joyce. Cornet in Colonel Whalley s regiment of horse and his business was to speak with the King. ” “ I consider this.” said he. “as a prognostic of God’s future favor and mercy towards me and mineâ€"that although I nm at this time so eclipsed, yet either I or they may shine out bright again l” Even as he spoke a loud knocking we heard at the outer door, communicating as it did with a back staircase that led to a private entrance into the court. ‘Sounds of hurry and confusion at the same time pervaded the palace, and the tramp of horses mingled with the clash of steel was distinctly .audible out- side the walls. Major-General Browne’s voice was heard, too, above the confnshion, calling on the few yoomen of the guard and other officials who formed the garrison to "stand to their arms.” exhorting them at the same time to preserve the King’s person from injury, and the majesty of the Parlia- ment, as represented by the Commissioners. from insult. Meantime, Mawl, Maxwell and Harrington, all personal attendants of the Sovereign. rushed to his bedchamber. scared, pale and half-dressed, but ready, if need were, to sacrifice their lives in defence of the King. “From whom ‘2“ said Browne, with rising indignation. “From myself!” replied the Comet. provoking cooiness. The two old solders burst into a derisive laugh. “ I also awoke in the night," replied the King. “and took notice that all was dark. To be fully satisfied, I put by the curtain to look at the lamp. Somc time after I found it light] and concluded then that thou hadst risen and set it upon the basin lightezl again.” Herbert assured his Majesty it was not so. Charles smiled. and his countenance as- sumed that mystical and rapt expression it so often wore. In effect. the Cornet’s entrance into Holmby House, and his rapid occupation of every post in its vicinity. as of the palace iaself, had been achieved in a masterly man- ner that showed 111111 to be no inexperienced practitioner in war. ” Haveyou the authority of the Commisâ€" sioners fur your intrusion ?" gasped out Max- well. totally aghast at the unheard-of breach of etiquette, in which he felt himself aiding and abetting. “ No I” thundered the Comet ; “I have placed a sentry at. the door of every man of them. Keep quiet. old gentlemanâ€"I take my orders from them that fear neither Com- missioners nor Parliament." Charles alone preserved his usual compo- sure. The knocking at the door of his private apartments being violently repeated, he desired Maxwell to hold converse with this unmannerly disturber of his repose. Recon noitel‘ing the assailant though a pnnnelling in the door, the old courtier was horrified to observe a Cornet of the Parliamentary dru- goous standing at the hand of the stairs in complete armor, with a. cockeil pistol in his hand, and clamoring for admittance. " It‘s no laughing matter,” said the un- abashed intruder ; “I come not hither to be advised by you. nor have I any business with the Commissloners. My errand is to the King, and speak to him I must and 5111." The King's simplicity of manner and quiet dignified bearing overawed even the rough and low-horn officer of the Parliament. Half- aehamed of his msolence, half bullying him~ self into his naturally offensive demeanor, Cornet Joyce was ushered into the presence with a. far different aspect from that which he had assumed the night before. Such is the innate dignity aficided by true nobility of soul, that Charles and his captor seemed to have changed places. The King appearing to on yonder table ; read to me, 1 prithee. for space. It may be the good bishop’s discourses will lull me to repose. Thou, too, are wake- ful and watchful. I thank thee for thy vigil- ance in so readily rekindling my light, which had gone out.” Herbert expresml his Burprise. “ I have not entered your K'Iajesty‘s cham- ber,” said her “ I have never left my couch since I lay down ; but being restless, I observed your Majesty’s room was dark, and when I woke even now reproached myself that your Majesty must. have risen to per- form a, duty that should have devolved upon your servant.” “ I would seeOharIes Stuart,” he replied. “My namu is Joyce, Corner. in the service of the Parliament. 1am here on my own reâ€" sponsibility." “ Stand to your arms.” exclaimed Brow, no. to the handful of soldiers inside the palace ; but these had in the meantime held some conference with the intruders, and finding that they all belonged to the same party, and that several were old comrades who had charged together many a. day under the same banner, they refused to act against their friends. and drawing bolts and bars. admitted them without further parley, bidding them welcome, and. shaking them cordially by the hand. The dialogue was carried on Wit“ a military st-ernness and brevity shocking to the prejudices of the GentiemamUsher, more accustomed to the circumlocutions of diplomacy and the compliments of a court. “ What would you ?" inquired Maxwell, throng}: the. pannelling. “ Who are you, and by whose orders do you come here 17” The Comet was a stout, resolute-looking mamwith all the appearance of having risen from the ranks. His voice was deep and harsh his countenance of that dogged nature which sets argument and persuasion alike at defiance. His answers were short and categorical. Thus it was that the Garnet obtained ad- mittance even to the very door of his Majes- ty’s bedclmmber. A certain sense of pro- priety, however, which almost always accom- panies the responsibility of a command, for» bade him from offering any further violence. and with s. most nngracious acquiescence he consented to leave the King undisturbed till morning, stipulating, however, that he should himself take up a position for the mght on the staircase, which in effect he did, being with difficulty persuaded to lay down his firearms and return his sword to its sheath. Charles sought his couch once more in that frame of placid helplessness which seems usually to have taken possession of him when in the crisis of adiflicuity. He slept soundly, and awoke with characteristic regularity, little before his ordinary hour. His toilet was per- formed with elaborate care, his devotlons not curtail d of a single interjection, his poached egg an glass of feirwater leisurely discussed, and then, but not till then, his Majesty ex- pressed his readiness to hold an interview with the personage who seemed to have power of life and death over his Sovereign. {CONTINUED ON FOURTH mom]