CHAPTER XII: THE ONE HOPE
"There's some fearful tieBetween me and that spirit world, which GodBrands with His terrors on my troubled mind."
KINGSLEY.
The final blow had fallen upon Anne Woodford so suddenly that forthe first few days she moved about as one in a dream. LadyArchfield came to her on the first day, and showed her motherlykindness, and Lucy was with her as much as was possible under theexactions of young Madam, who was just sufficiently unwell to resentattention being paid to any other living creature. She furtherdeveloped a jealousy of Lucy's affection for any other friend suchas led to a squabble between her and her husband, and made hermother-in-law unwillingly acquiesce in the expediency of Anne'sbeing farther off.
And indeed Anne herself felt so utterly forlorn and desolate that animpatience of the place came over her. She was indeed fond of heruncle, but he was much absorbed in his studies, his parish, and inanxious correspondence on the state of the Church, and was scarcelya companion to her, and without her mother to engross her love andattention, and cut off from the Archfields as she now was, there waslittle to counterbalance the restless feeling that London and theprecincts of the Court were her natural element. So she wrote herletters according to her mother's desire, and waited anxiously forthe replies, feeling as if anything would be preferable to herpresent unhappiness and solitude.
The answers came in due time. Mrs. Evelyn promised to try to find avirtuous and godly lady who would be willing to receive MistressAnne Woodford into her family, and Lady Oglethorpe wrote with vaguerpromises of high preferment, which excited Anne's imagination duringthose lonely hours that she had to spend while her strict mourning,after the custom of the time, secluded her from all visitors.
Meantime, in that anxious spring of 1688, when the Church of Englandwas looking to her defences, the Doctor could not be much at home,and when he had time to listen to private affairs, he heard reportswhich did not please him of Peregrine Oakshott. That the young menin the county all abhorred his fine foreign airs was no seriousevil, though it might be suspected that his sharp ironical tonguehad quite as much to do with their dislike as his greater refinementof manner.
His father was reported to be very seriously displeased with him,for he openly expressed contempt of the precise ways of thehousehold, and absented himself in a manner that could scarcely beattributed to aught but the licentious indulgences of the time; andas he seldom mingled in the amusements of the young countrygentlemen, it was only too probable that he found a lower grade ofcompanions in Portsmouth. Moreover his talk, random though it mightbe, offended all the Whig opinions of his father. He talked withthe dogmatism of the traveller of the glories of Louis XIV, andbroadly avowed his views that the grandeur of the nation was bestestablished under a king who asked no questions of people orParliament, 'that senseless set of chattering pies,' as he wasreported to have called the House of Commons.
He sang the praises of the gracious and graceful Queen MaryBeatrice, and derided 'the dried-up Orange stick,' as he called thehope of the Protestants; nor did he scruple to pronounce Popery thefaith of chivalrous gentlemen, far preferable to the whining ofsullen Whiggery. No one could tell how far all this was genuineopinion, or simply delight in contradiction, especially of hisfather, who was in a constant state of irritation at the son whom hecould so little manage.
And in the height of the wrath of the whole of the magistracy at theexpulsion of their lord-lieutenant, the Earl of Gainsborough, andthe substitution of the young Duke of Berwick, what must Peregrinedo but argue in high praise of that youth, whom he had several timesseen and admired. And when not a gentleman in the neighbourhoodchose to greet the intruder when he arrived as governor ofPortsmouth, Peregrine actually rode in to see him, and dined withhim. Words cannot express the Major's anger and shame at suchconsorting with a person, whom alike, on account of parentage,religion, and education, he regarded as a son of perdition. YetPeregrine would only coolly reply that he knew many a Protestant whowould hardly compare favourably with young Berwick.
It was an anxious period that spring of 1688. The order to read theKing's Declaration of Indulgence from the pulpit had come as athunder-clap upon the clergy. The English Church had only knownrest for twenty-eight years, and now, by this unconstitutionalassumption of prerogative, she seemed about to be given up to be theprey of Romanists on the one hand and Nonconformists on the other;though for the present the latter were so persuaded that theIndulgence was merely a disguised advance of Rome that they were notat all grateful, expecting, as Mr. Horncastle observed, only to bethe last devoured, and he was as much determined as was Dr. Woodfordnot to announce it from his pulpit, whatever might be theconsequence; the latter thus resigning all hopes of promotion.
News letters, public and private, were eagerly scanned. Though thediocesan, Bishop Mew, took no active part in the petition called alibel, being an extremely aged man, the imprisonment of Ken, sodeeply endeared to Hampshire hearts when Canon of Winchester andRector of Brighstone, and with the Bloody Assize and the executionof Alice Lisle fresh in men's memories, there could not but beextreme anxiety.
In the midst arrived the tidings that a son had been born to theking--a son instantly baptized by a Roman Catholic priest, and nodoubt destined by James to rivet the fetters of Rome upon thekingdom, destroying at once the hope of his elder sister'saccession. Loyal Churchmen like the Archfields still hoped,recollecting how many infants had been born in the royal family onlyto die; but at Oakwood the Major and his chaplain shook their heads,and spoke of warming pans, to the vehement displeasure of Peregrine,who was sure to respond that the Queen was an angel, and that theWhigs credited every one with their own sly tricks.
The Major groaned, and things seemed to have reached a pass verylike open enmity between father and son, though Peregrine stilllived at home, and reports were rife that the year of mourning forhis brother being expired, he was, as soon as he came of age, to bemarried to Mistress Martha Browning, and have an establishment ofhis own at Emsworth.
Under these circumstances, it was with much satisfaction that Dr.Woodford said to his niece: "Child, here is an excellent offer foryou. Lady Russell, who you know has returned to live at Stratton,has heard you mentioned by Lady Mildmay. She has just married hereldest daughter, and needs a companion to the other, and has beentold of you as able to speak French and Italian, and otherwise welltrained. What! do you not relish the proposal?"
"Why, sir, would not my entering such a house do you harm at Court,and lessen your chance of preferment?"
"Think not of _that_, my child."
"Besides," added Anne, "since Lady Oglethorpe has written, it wouldnot be fitting to engage myself elsewhere before hearing from heragain."
"You think so, Anne. Lady Russell's would be a far safer, betterhome for you than the Court."
Anne knew it, but the thought of that widowed home depressed her.It might, she thought, be as dull as Oakwood, and there would beinfinite chances of preferment at Court. What she said, however,was: "It was by my mother's wish that I applied to LadyOglethorpe."
"That is true, child. Yet I cannot but believe that if she hadknown of Lady Russell's offer, she would gladly and thankfully haveaccepted it."
So said the secret voice within the girl herself, but she did notyet yield to it. "Perhaps she would, sir," she answered, "if theother proposal were not made. 'Tis a Whig household though."
"A Whig household is a safer one than a Popish one," answered theDoctor. "Lady Russell is, by all they tell me, a very saint uponearth."
Shall it be owned? Anne thought of Oakwood, and was not attractedtowards a saint upon earth. "How soon was the answer to be given?"she asked.
"I believe she would wish you to meet her at Winchester next week,when, if you pleased her, you might return with her to Stratton."
The Doctor hoped that Lady Oglethorpe's application might fail, butbefore the week was over she forwarded the definite appointment ofMistress Anne Jacobina Woodfo
rd as one of the rockers of his RoyalHighness the Prince of Wales, his Majesty having been graciouslypleased to remember her father's services and his own sponsorship."If your friends consider the office somewhat beneath you," wroteLady Oglethorpe, "it is still open to you to decline it."
"Oh no; I would certainly not decline it!" cried Anne. "I could notpossibly do so; could I, sir?"
"Lady Oglethorpe says you might," returned the Doctor; "and for mypart, niece, I should prefer the office of a gouvernante to that ofa rocker."
"Ah, but it is to a Prince!" said Anne. "It is the way to somethingfurther."
"And what may that something further be? That is the question,"said her uncle. "I will not control you, my child, for theapplication to this Court lady was by the wish of your good mother,who knew her well, but I own that I should be far more at rest onyour account if you were in a place of less temptation."
"The Court is very different from what it was in the last King'stime," pleaded Anne.
"In some degree it may be; but on the other hand, the influencewhich may have purified it is of the religion that I fear may be aseduction."
"Oh no, never, uncle; nothing could make me a Papist."
"Do not be over confident, Anne. Those who run into temptation areapt to be left to themselves."
"Indeed, sir, I cannot think that the course my mother shaped for mecan be a running into temptation."
"Well, Anne, as I say, I cannot withstand you, since it was yourmother who requested Lady Oglethorpe's patronage for you, though Itell you sincerely that I believe that had the two courses been setbefore her she would have chosen the safer and more private one.
"Nay but, dear sir," still pleaded the maiden, "what would become ofyour chances of preferment if it were known that you had placed mewith Lord Russell's widow in preference to the Queen?"
"Let not that weigh with you one moment, child. I believe that nostaunch friend of our Protestant Church will be preferred by hisMajesty; nay, while the Archbishop and my saintly friend of Bath andWells are persecuted, I should be ashamed to think of promotion.Spurn the thought from you, child."
"Nay, 'twas only love for you, dear uncle."
"I know it, child. I am not displeased, only think it over, andpray over it, since the post will not go out until to-morrow."
Anne did think, but not quite as her uncle intended. Theremembrance of the good-natured young Princesses, the large statelyrooms, the brilliant dresses, the radiance of wax lights, hadfloated before her eyes ever since her removal from Chelsea to thequieter regions of Winchester, and she had longed to get back tothem. She really loved her uncle, and whatever he might say, shelonged to push his advancement, and thought his unselfish abnegationthe greater reason for working for him; and in spite of knowing wellthat it was only a dull back-stair appointment, she could look tothe notice of Princess Anne, when once within her reach, andfurther, with the confidence of youth, believed that she had thatwithin her which would make her way upwards, and enable her toconfer promotion, honour, and dignity, on all her friends. Heruncle should be a Bishop, Charles a Peer (fancy his wife being underobligations to the parson's niece!), Lucy should have a perfecthusband, and an appointment should be found for poor Peregrine whichhis father could not gainsay. It was her bounden duty not to throwaway such advantages; besides loyalty to her Royal godfather couldnot permit his offer to be rejected, and her mother, when writing toLady Oglethorpe, must surely have had some such expectation. Norshould she be entirely cut off from her uncle, who was a Royalchaplain; and this was some consolation to the good Doctor when hefound her purpose fixed, and made arrangements for her to travel upto town in company with Lady Worsley of Gatcombe, whom she was tomeet at Southampton on the 1st of July.
Meantime the Doctor did his best to arm his niece against theallurements to Romanism that he feared would be held out. LadyOglethorpe and other friends had assured him of the matronly care ofLady Powys and Lady Strickland to guard their department from allevil; but he did fear these religious influences and Anne, resoluteto resist all, perhaps not afraid of the conflict, was willing toarm herself for defence, and listened readily. She was no lessanxious to provide for her uncle's comfort in his absence, and manysmall matters of housewifery that had stood over for some time werenow to be purchased, as well as a few needments for her own outfit,although much was left for the counsel of her patroness in thematter of garments.
Accordingly her uncle rode in with her to Portsmouth on a shoppingexpedition, and as the streets of the seaport were scarcely safe fora young woman without an escort, he carried a little book in hispocket wherewith he beguiled the time that she spent in theselection of his frying-pans, fire-irons, and the like, and her owngloves and kerchiefs. They dined at the 'ordinary' at the inn, andthere Dr. Woodford met his great friends Mr. Stanbury of Botley, andMr. Worsley of Gatcombe, in the Isle of Wight, who both, like him,were opposed to the reading of the Declaration of Indulgence, asunconstitutional, and deeply anxious as to the fate of the greatlybeloved Bishop of Bath and Wells. It was inevitable that theyshould fall into deep and earnest council together, and when dinnerwas over they agreed to adjourn to the house of a friend learned inecclesiastical law to hunt up the rights of the case, leaving Anneto await them in a private room at the Spotted Dog, shown to her bythe landlady.
Anne well knew what such a meeting betided, and with a certainprevision, had armed herself with some knotting, wherewith she satdown in a bay window overlooking the street, whence she could seemarket-women going home with empty baskets, pigs being reluctantlydriven down to provision ships in the harbour, barrels of biscuit,salt meat, or beer, being rolled down for the same purpose, sailorsin loose knee-breeches, and soldiers in tall peaked caps and cross-belts, and officers of each service moving in different directions.She sat there day-dreaming, feeling secure in her loneliness, andpresently saw a slight figure, daintily clad in gray and black, whocatching her eye made an eager gesture, doffing his plumed hat andbowing low to her. She returned his salute, and thought he passedon, but in another minute she was startled to find him at her side,exclaiming: "This is the occasion I have longed and sought for,Mistress Anne; I bless and thank the fates."
"I am glad to see you once more before I depart," said Anne, holdingout her hand as frankly as she could to the old playfellow whom shealways thought ill-treated, but whom she could never meet without acertain shudder.
"Then it is true?" he exclaimed.
"Yes; I am to go up with Lady Worsley from Southampton next week."
"Ah!" he cried, "but must that be?" and she felt his strange power,so that she drew into herself and said haughtily--
"My dear mother wished me to be with her friends, nor can the King'sappointment be neglected, though of course I am extremely grieved togo."
"And you are dazzled with all these gewgaws of Court life, nodoubt?"
"I shall not be much in the way of gewgaws just yet," said Annedrily. "It will be dull enough in some back room of Whitehall orSt. James's."
"Say you so. You will wish yourself back--you, the lady of myheart--mine own good angel! Hear me. Say but the word, and yourhome will be mine, to say nothing of your own most devoted servant."
"Hush, hush, sir! I cannot hear this," said Anne, anxiouslyglancing down the street in hopes of seeing her uncle approaching.
"Nay, but listen! This is my only hope--my only chance--I mustspeak--you doom me to you know not what if you will not hear me!"
"Indeed, sir, I neither will nor ought!"
"Ought! Ought! Ought you not to save a fellow-creature fromdistraction and destruction? One who has loved and looked to youever since you and that saint your mother lifted me out of themisery of my childhood."
Then as she looked softened he went on: "You, you are my one hope.No one else can lift me out of the reach of the demon that has besetme even since I was born."
"That is profane," she said, the more severe for the growingattraction of repulsion.
"What do I
care? It is true! What was I till you and your mothertook pity on the wild imp? My old nurse said a change would come tome every seven years. That blessed change came just seven yearsago. Give me what will make a more blessed--a more saving change--or there will be one as much for the worse."
"But--I could not. No! you must see for yourself that I could not--even if I would," she faltered, really pitying now, and unwilling togive more pain than she could help.
"Could not? It should be possible. I know how to bring it about.Give me but your promise, and I will make you mine--ay, and I willmake myself as worthy of you as man can be of saint-like maid."
"No--no! This is very wrong--you are pledged already--"
"No such thing--believe no such tale. My promise has never beengiven to that grim hag of my father's choice--no, nor should beforced from me by the rack. Look you here. Let me take this hand,call in the woman of the house, give me your word, and my fatherwill own his power to bind me to Martha is at an end."
"Oh, no! It would be a sin--never. Besides--" said Anne, holdingher hands tightly clasped behind her in alarm, lest against her willshe should let them be seized, and trying to find words to tell himhow little she felt disposed to trust her heart and herself to onewhom she might indeed pity, but with a sort of shrinking as fromsomething not quite human. Perhaps he dreaded her 'besides'--for hecut her short.
"It would save ten thousand greater sins. See, here are two waysbefore us. Either give me your word, your precious word, go silentto London, leave me to struggle it out with my father and your uncleand follow you. Hope and trust will be enough to bear me throughthe battle without, and within deafen the demon of my nature, andrender me patient of my intolerable life till I have conquered andcan bring you home."
Her tongue faltered as she tried to say such a secret unsanctionedengagement would be treachery, but he cut off the words.
"You have not heard me out. There is another way. I know those whowill aid me. We can meet in early dawn, be wedded in one of thesechurches in all secrecy and haste, and I would carry you at once tomy uncle, who, as you well know, would welcome you as a daughter.Or, better still, we would to those fair lands I have scarce seen,but where I could make my way with sword or pen with you to inspireme. I have the means. My uncle left this with me. Speak! It isdeath or life to me."
This last proposal was thoroughly alarming, and Anne retreated,drawing herself to her full height, and speaking with the dignitythat concealed considerable terror.
"No, indeed, sir. You ought to know better than to utter suchproposals. One who can make such schemes can certainly obtain norespect nor regard from the lady he addresses. Let me pass"--forshe was penned up in the bay window--"I shall seek the landlady tillmy uncle returns."
"Nay, Mistress Anne, do not fear me. Do not drive me to utterdespair. Oh, pardon me! Nothing but utter desperation could driveme to have thus spoken; but how can I help using every effort to winher whose very look and presence is bliss! Nothing else soothes andcalms me; nothing else so silences the demon and wakens the betterpart of my nature. Have you no pity upon a miserable wretch, whowill be dragged down to his doom without your helping hand?"
He flung himself on his knee before her, and tried to grasp herhand.
"Indeed, I am sorry for you, Master Oakshott," said Anne,compassionate, but still retreating as far as the window would lether; "but you are mistaken. If this power be in me, which I cannotquite believe--yes, I see what you want to say, but if I did what Iknow to be wrong, I should lose it at once; God's grace can save youwithout me."
"I will not ask you to do what you call wrong; no, nor to transgressany of the ties you respect, you, whose home is so unlike mine; onlytell me that I may have hope, that if I deserve you, I may win you;that you could grant me--wretched me--a share of your affection."
This was hardest of all; mingled pity and repugnance, truth andcompassion strove within the maiden as well as the strange influenceof those extraordinary eyes. She was almost as much afraid ofherself as of her suitor. At last she managed to say, "I am verysorry for you; I grieve from my heart for your troubles; I should bevery glad to hear of your welfare and anything good of you, but--"
"But, but--I see--it is mere frenzy in me to think the blighted elfcan aspire to be aught but loathsome to any lady--only, at least,tell me you love no one else."
"No, certainly not," she said, as if his eyes drew it forcibly fromher.
"Then you cannot hinder me from making you my guiding star--hopingthat if yet I can--"
"There's my uncle!" exclaimed Anne, in a tone of infinite relief."Stand up, Mr. Oakshott, compose yourself. Of course I cannothinder your thinking about me, if it will do you any good, but thereare better things to think about which would conquer evil and makeyou happy more effectually."
He snatched her hand and kissed it, nor did she withhold it, sinceshe really pitied him, and knew that her uncle was near, and allwould soon be over.
Peregrine dashed away by another door as Dr. Woodford's foot was onthe stairs. "I have ordered the horses," he began. "They told meyoung Oakshott was here."
"He was, but he is gone;" and she could not quite conceal heragitation.
"Crimson cheeks, my young mistress? Ah, the foolish fellow! You donot care for him, I trust?"
"No, indeed, poor fellow. What, did you know, sir?"
"Know. Yes, truly--and your mother likewise, Anne. It was onecause of her wishing to send you to safer keeping than mine seems tobe. My young spark made his proposals to us both, though we wouldnot disturb your mind therewith, not knowing how he would have dealtwith his father, nor viewing him, for all he is heir to Oakwood, asa desirable match in himself. I am glad to see you have sense anddiscretion to be of the same mind, my maid."
"I cannot but grieve for his sad condition, sir," replied Anne, "butas for anything more--it would make me shudder to think of it--he isstill too like Robin Goodfellow."
"That's my good girl," said her uncle. "And do you know, child,there are the best hopes for the Bishops. There's a gentleman comedown but now from London, who says 'twas like a triumph as theBishops sat in their barge on the way to the Tower; crowds swarmingalong the banks, begging for their blessing, and they waving it withtears in their eyes. The King will be a mere madman if he dares totouch a hair of their heads. Well, when I was a lad, Bishops weresent to the Tower by the people; I little thought to live to seethem sent thither by the King."
All the way home Dr. Woodford talked of the trial, beginning perhapsto regret that his niece must go to the very focus of Romaninfluence in England, where there seemed to be little scruple as tothe mode of conversion. Would it be possible to alter herdestination? was his thought, when he rose the next day, but loyaltystood in the way, and that very afternoon another event happenedwhich made it evident that the poor girl must leave Portchester assoon as possible.
She had gone out with him to take leave of some old cottagers in thevillage, and he finding himself detained to minister to a case ofunexpected illness, allowed her to go home alone for about a quarterof a mile along the white sunny road at the foot of Portsdown, withthe castle full in view at one end, and the cottage where he was atthe other. Many a time previously had she trodden it alone, but shehad not reckoned on two officers coming swaggering from a cross roaddown the hill, one of them Sedley Archfield, who immediately calledout, "Ha, ha! my pretty maid, no wench goes by without paying toll;"and they spread their arms across the road so as to arrest her.
"Sir," said Anne, drawing herself up with dignity, "you mistake--"
"Not a whit, my dear; no exemption here;" and there was a horselaugh, and an endeavour to seize her, as she stepped back, feelingthat in quietness lay her best chance of repelling them, adding--
"My uncle is close by."
"The more cause for haste;" and they began to close upon her. Butat that moment Peregrine Oakshott, leaping from his horse, was amongthem, with the cry--
"Dastards! insul
ting a lady."
"Lady, forsooth! the parson's niece."
In a few seconds--very long seconds to her--her flying feet hadbrought her back to the cottage, where she burst in with--"Pardon,pardon, sir; come quick; there are swords drawn; there will bebloodshed if you do not come."
He obeyed the summons without further query, for when all men woreswords the neighbourhood of a garrison were only too liable to suchencounters outside. There was no need for her to gasp out more;from the very cottage door he could see the need of haste, for theswords were actually flashing, and the two young men in position tofight. Anne shook her head, unable to do more than sign her thanksto the good woman of the cottage, who offered her a seat. She leantagainst the door, and watched as her uncle, sending his voice beforehim, called on them to desist.
There was a start, then each drew back and held down his weapon, butwith a menacing gesture on one side, a shrug of the shoulders on theother, which impelled the Doctor to use double speed in the fearthat the parting might be with a challenge reserved.
He was in time to stand warning, and arguing that if he pardoned theslighting words and condoned the insult to his niece, no one had aright to exact vengeance; and in truth, whatever were his arguments,he so dealt with the two young men as to force them into shakinghands before they separated, though with a contemptuous look oneither side--a scowl from Sedley, a sneer from Peregrine, boding illfor the future, and making him sigh.
"Ah! sister, sister, you judged aright. Would that I could havesent the maid sooner away rather than that all this ill blood shouldhave been bred. Yet I may only be sending her to greater temptationand danger. But she is a good maiden; God bless her and keep herhere and there, now and for evermore, as I trust He keepeth our goodDr. Ken in this sore strait. The trial may even now be over. Ah,my child, here you are! Frightened were you by that rude fellow?Nay, I believe you were almost equally terrified by him who came tothe rescue. You will soon be out of their reach, my dear."
"Yes, that is one great comfort in going," sighed Anne. Onecomfort--yes--though she would not have stayed had the choice beengiven her now. And shall the thought be told that flashed over herand coloured her cheeks with a sort of shame yet of pleasure, "Isurely must have power over men! I know mother would say it is aterrible danger one way, and a great gift another. I will notmisuse it; but what will it bring me? Or am I only a rustic beautyafter all, who will be nobody elsewhere?"
Still heartily she wished that her rescuer had been any one else inthe wide world. It was almost uncanny that he should have sprungout of the earth at such a moment.