He searched her countenance with one of those sentimental and sinister glances which, when they flicker in his eyes, do indeed make him strongly resemble his father. I don't think he was pleased with the result of his scrutiny. Miss Moore's aspect remained laughing and open as ever. Had she blushed or shrunk away, Sir William would have triumphed. But hers was no heart to be smitten with sudden, secret and cankering love - the sort of love he often aims to inspire.
'Come, Townshend,' said he, drawing on his gloves. 'We will go.'
'I think you'd better, lad,' observed Thornton. 'Neither you nor Townshend have done yourselves any credit by this spree.'
We both were bold enough to approach Miss Moore; and she was good-natured or thoughtless enough to shake hands with us freely, and say that when her father came home she should be happy to see his clients Messrs Clarke and Gardiner again, either about the lawsuit or to take a friendly cup of tea with them. The girl, to do her justice, seemed to have some tact. I don't think I shall soon forget her very handsome face, or the sound of her voice and the pleasant expression of her eyes.
As we two passed again through the embowered gate and stept out into the now burning road, I asked Sir William if he was smitten.
'Not I,' said he. 'There's no mind there, and very little heart. If ever I marry, rest satisfied my choice will not fall upon the Rose of Zamorna.'
Yet something had evidently gone wrong with the young Colonel. His vanity was wounded, or he was vexed at the interference of General Thornton. Whatever the cause was, certain it [is] he grew mightily disagreeable, snapping on all sides and snarling sourly at everything. We had not walked above a quarter of a mile, when he said he had business which called him elsewhere, and he must now bid me good-day. The Baronet turned into a retired lane branching from the main road, and I continued my course straight on.
Jane Moore, staying at Girnington with General and Lady Thornton, sings stirring songs of the charge of the men of Ardsley and of the siege of Evesham in the recent Angrian war. Castlereagh, Earl of Stuartville, brings news that Zamorna is expected in Zamorna City next day, and that the populace, who are furious that he has been visiting Northangerland, are threatening to riot
The rumour of invaders through all Zamorna ran.
Then Turner Grey his watch-word gave:
Ho! Ardsley to the van!
Lord Hartford called his yeomen, and Warner raised his clan,
But first in fiercest gallop rushed Ardsley to the van!
On came Medina's turbans, Sir John hurled his ban:
'Mid the thousand hearts who scorned it still Ardsley kept the van!
The freshening gales of battle a hundred standards fan,
And doubt not Ardsley's pennon floats foremost in the van!
Cold on the field of carnage they have fallen man for man,
And no more in march or onslaught will Ardsley lead the van!
Loud wail lamenting trumpets for all that gallant clan,
And Angrians shout their signal:
Ho! Ardsley to the van!
Give them the grave of honour where their native river ran,
Let them rest! They died like heroes
In the battle's fiery van!
And when their names are uttered, this hope may cheer each man:
That land shall never perish
Where such true hearts led the van!
The aged halls of Girnington echoed to this heroic song, and a few notes even strayed through the open windows of the drawing-room into the twilight park. It was still evening. A heaven unclouded smiled to the ascent of a moon undimmed. That summer day was gone, and while the burning west closed its gates upon her departure, softer paths opened in the east for the steps of a mild summer night.
Is that horseman thinking of the glory which smiles above those trees through which his form glances so fast? Pressing up the avenue, he never turns to look from what source stream those silver rays which fall upon him at every opening of the giant boughs. Yet no heavy care absorbs his thoughts, for he lifts his head to listen when that music comes across his way, and he smiles when at its close a laugh is heard from the mansion at whose door he now dismounts.
General and Lady Thornton sat vis a vis in two opposite arm-chair[s] by a window of their saloon. The softening light stole upon Julia, and in Sir Wilson's eyes made her look like an angel. In the background, and almost lost in the dusk, a third person sat at the piano, playing and talking at the same time. The voice sufficiently indicated her identity. It was Miss Moore, of Kirkham Lodge, Hartford, who had accompanied Colonel Thornton according to his invitation.
'General,' she was saying, in answer to some bantering speech of the worthy Baronet's, 'I am afraid I shall die an old maid.'
'I[t]'ll be your own fault if you do, I think, Jane.'
'Well, but nobody ever made me an offer yet, positively.'
'Because you're so proud and saucy,' said Julia. 'You frighten them away.'
'Indeed, you're mistaken! There's one man, at least, whom I've done my very best to win.'
'Who is that?'
'Lord Hartford. Now, I've long been in love with that man. Seriously, there's nobody I should like half so well to be married to - and I've danced with him and smiled at him and sung him all my most triumphant songs in my finest style, without as yet gaining even an outwork of the fortress. Once I thought I had made some little impression. It was after singing that Ardsley song you've heard just now. He came and stood behind me, and asked for it again. The same night, he offered to let me have his carriage to go home, for our own was engaged with my father in one of his circuits; and the next morning he actually walked down to the Lodge to breakfast with me. How I did exert myself to please! I'm sure I was most fascinating! He went home, and I fully expected to receive a proposal in form before night; but no. I'm afraid I had overshot the mark. At any rate, nothing came of it.'
'The Earl of Stuartville,' said a servant, opening the door, and the Earl of Stuartville walked in.
'Good evening, Thornton,' said his lordship. 'All in shadow, I see - no candles. Perfectly romantic! Is that Lady Julia, covered with moonlight? Good heavens! My heart's gone! Who ever saw anything so perfectly transcendent? Thornton, you'd better challenge me forthwith!'
The Earl threw himself into a chair next to Lady Julia, and, stretching out one elegant leg, leaned towards her like an enamoured Frenchman.
'What on earth has brought you here, Castlereagh?' said her ladyship. 'Excuse me for forgetting the new title - but you know, Castle, that former name must be endeared to me, for with it are connected all our earliest associations.'
'Of the days when your ladyship's pet-cognomen for me was man-monkey.'
'Happy days, those, Castlereagh!' sighed Julia. 'You'd nothing then to do but to dress and dance and dine. No Secretary of State, no General of Division business, no county politics to control or court intrigues to counteract.'
'True, Lady Julia; I used to turn out of bed at two o'clock in the afternoon, dress till four, lounge till seven, dine till nine, and dance till six next morning.'
'You did, my dear lord; that was just a chart of your life. Alas! did I ever think the owner of the pretties[t] fancy waistcoat and the best perfumed pair of mustaches in Verdopolis would ever expose his elegance to the rigours of a winter campaign, his eye-glass to the danger of being broken in a field of battle!'
Here the chat was hushed, lost in a solemn burst of music from the piano and the reveille of a thrilling voice.
Deep the Cirhala flows,
And Evesham o'er it swells,
The last night she shall smile upon
In silence round her dwells!
All lean upon their spears,
All rest within, around,
But some shall know to-morrow night
A slumber far more sound!
The summer dew unseen
On fort and turret shines:
What dew shall fall when battle's voice
Is heard alo
ng the lines?
Trump and triumphant drum
The conflict won shall spread:
Who then will turn aside and say
We mourn the noble dead?
Strong hands, heroic hearts
Shall homeward throng again,
Returned from battle's bloody grasp:
Where will they leave the slain?
Beneath a foreign sod,
Beside an alien wave,
Watched by the martyr's holy God,
Who guards the martyr's grave!
Miss Moore rose and came forward as she concluded the song.
'Now, my lord,' said she, addressing the Earl of Stuartville. 'You see, I have forced you to hear, if you will not see me. Don't apologize! I am offended, of course. It will avail you nothing to say you did not observe me, it was dark, etc. You should have perceived my presence by instinct.'
'What!' returned his lordship. 'I suppose the Rose of Zamorna ought to be known by its fragrance. Miss Jane, sit down. I have something to tell you; something which - I can answer for it - will make your heart beat high with indignation.'
'Does it relate to the reason which has brought you here?' she asked, taking her seat on an ottoman near him.
'Exactly so; and you must needs think it an important circumstance which should bring me ten miles at this time of night.'
'Why then, let's hear it, without any more ado,' interposed Thornton. 'Did aught go wrong at the magistrates' meeting after I left them?'
'No,' returned the Earl, 'except that Edward Percy and I had some sparring about a case of illegitimacy. However, that was all settled; we'd cleared scores, and Edward was just turning down his final glass of brandy and water, when Sydenham, who was standing by the court-house window, remarked that there seemed to be a crowd collecting at the lower end of the street - and as he spoke we heard a yell just for all the world like one of their election cries. I desired Mackay to go immediately and see what there was to do, but before he could get out five or six gentlemen of Zamorna rushed in a body up the steps of the magistrates' room, and the foremost announced, with more glee than grief, he believed there was going to be a riot. "What about?" I asked. Nobody answered, and some of us turned pale, for all at once a great rush thundered up the street, and in two minutes the whole front of Stancliffe's and the court-house was blocked up by a mass of howling ragamuffins.'
'Did they break t' windows?' asked Thornton.
'Not they; there was not a stone thrown, and indeed, they were not thinking of us. Their faces were all turned the other way, lifted up to the front windows of the hotel. They were yelling terribly, but for my life I could not tell what they said. However, you may be sure we set sharply about the business of swearing in special constables, and a message was despatched to the barracks to have the soldiers ready. Meantime I and Percy went out onto the steps and shouted to the crowd to disperse, but they answered us with a loud roar of "Down with Northangerland! No French! No Ardrahians!" "Well, my lads," I said, "Do you call us French? Do you say we're for Northangerland and Ardrah? If that be all, I'll join you in a hearty groan against all three - and then disperse, and go home quietly." And so the groan was given, and a tremendous rumble it was; and Edward, stepping forward and sticking his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat, shouted out, "Now, lads, let's have a yell - the highest you can raise - set apart entirely in honour of the old harlot-ridden buck Northangerland! Lift it up, lads! I'll set the time!" He did so, and the very steps he stood on quaked to the hellish sound they raised in unison. "Fellow-countrymen!" said Edward. "I'm proud to see such a spirit amongst you! Now go home. You've done enough for one day." But they did not stir. They only answered by a confused and horrible jabber which it was impossible to comprehend, and still they looked up at the hotel, as if there was something there they could have liked to have gotten out. "Do you think Northangerland is at Stancliffe's?" I asked. "No, no," was the answer. "We'd have had blood if he were!" and a single voice added, "But that dog, his son-in-law, is." '
Castlereagh paused. This announcement included much. Thornton started from his chair, and strode once or twice through the room; Julia looked troubled, and uttered some faint exclamation; as for Miss Moore, she said nothing, but even in the pale moonlight it might be seen that she coloured. The Earl went on.
'When we heard this, Edward Percy just walked back into the court-house, sat down, and said he wished he might die if he lifted a hand to prevent any thing that might happen. I stood over him and swore in good earnest, "If what we had heard was true, and if the crowd did not disperse immediately, I'd have three hundred cavalry from the barracks and ride them down like vermin." "By God you shall not," said Edward. "The soldiers have no right to control the people, d--d red tyrants!" I said my measures should be vigorous and that I would not be restrained by his cursed malignity. I got on horseback and dashed through the crowd over the way to Stancliffe's. I went in. They were all in some panic, as you may suppose, but I sent for the mistress and asked her if the Duke was really here. She said no, but that the Earl of Richton's carriage had arrived an hour ago, and that had given rise to the rumour. I asked her if the ambassador were in it, but she said, only his family physician, Dr Morrison, who had brought word that his grace had left Selden House and would be in Zamorna to-morrow at twelve o'clock. Richton was travelling with him, and Morrison preceded them by a day's journey to prepare the way. Furnished with this information, I went out again, told the people to go now and be sure to come to the same spot at noon to-morrow, when Zamorna would be there to meet them in the body. "And then," I said, "let us see what you'll do. At present he's two hundred miles off." They took the word, and in a few hours the street was clear. Now, Thornton, what think you of the prospect? You and I must be at Stancliffe's betimes in the morning. As for Edward Percy, he says he'll lie in bed all the day to-morrow.'
'Let him lie there and be d--d!' muttered Thornton. 'I care naught about him, and t' Duke deserves what he's like to get. He sudn't vex folk so. What need had he to go three or four-hundred mile to see an ow'd worn out rake? Edward's raight enow abaat that. He's allus brewing bitter drink for hisseln, and now he mun sup it for aught I know. I wish he'd his raight wit. Where's Hartford?'
'Just returned to the Hall from Gazemba. But he'll be of no use. He'll go to bed too.'
'I niver knew sich bother,' continued the worthy General. 'I hate t' thoughts o' folk being ridden down wi' troopers. It's not natural like. But if they mess wi' them they sudn't do, I care n't if t' cannon be pointed at 'em. Hasaiver ya mun flay 'em first Castlereagh - flay 'em first and let's hear what he says hisseln when he comes. Happen if he once gets among 'em they'll think better on't.'
'I hope they will,' echoed Julia, wringing her hands. 'I hope they will. Do you think, Thornton, they'll try to do him harm?'
'Who cares?' answered Sir William gruffly.
'I am sure you do,' said she, 'for all you're so cross about it.'
'Julia, be quiet!' returned he.
Julia was quiet; and Miss Moore looked at her from under the dark shadow of her eyelashes with an expression almost of scorn - a momentary expression which vanished instantly.
'The Duke will pass Girnington gates on his way to the city,' she observed in an indifferent tone.
'Yes,' said Castlereagh. 'But you will hardly distinguish the carriage if you watch for it. It is quite a plain one, like any private gentleman's with six horses and three postillions.'
'Perhaps one might distinguish the Duke himself,' she replied, regarding Castlereagh with the same side-glance out of the corner of her eye.
'Jane, talk sense!' said Thornton testily, and she raised her head and fixed on him a look kindling with sudden astonishment and anger. But she did not speak, and by biting in her underlip seemed to control the emotion which was darkening her face with crimson. Thornton now asked Lord Stuartville to step with him into his study, and the party broke up.
Charles Townshend watches
Zamorna's return
to Zamorna City
All business seemed suspended on the morning of the 26th of June. A spirit of excitement pervaded the population of Zamorna, as though at the time of a general election. Few ladies were to be seen in the streets, but groups of gentlemen or mechanics loitered by every lamp-post. Most of the mills were idle, for the men would not come to their work. At ten o'clock the court-house doors were thrown open, and, contrary to Lord Stuartville's prediction, Lord Hartford's carriage was the first that drew up at the steps below. Special constables began to appear, leaving the magistrates' room and crossing the street to Stancliffe's. As noon approached, the crowd thickened. A dense mass began to form in front of the hotel.
It was now that from a window in the second story I saw the whole. It was a fine day - the sun burning high, the sky of its deepest summer azure - but nobody seemed to feel the scorching heat. Harried expectation appeared in every face. This would have been a capital position for a stranger, for the greatest men of the province crossed the street at every instant. General Thornton, I saw, had arrived, for he was standing on the inner steps, and pointing out to Mr Walker, a principal mill owner, a heavy red flag which hung stirless from a tall banner-staff held by two grimy operatives just opposite. As the flag occasionally deployed its sullen folds, rather to the swaying of its pole than to any breeze felt in the sultry air, it revealed these words: 'Angria scorns Traitors - Northangerland to the block'; on the reverse: 'No Percy influence'. Lord Stuartville walked up, and I heard him say distinctly, 'We'll not put down that banner! It has a good motto.' Indeed, it was evident that the nobility and gentry of the town were by no means at war with the lower orders. On the contrary, they were pleased with this demonstration of feeling against the arch-enemy, whose stinging insults were fresh in the memory and keen in the hearts of each. They only wished to keep this feeling within bounds to prevent any unseemly and impolitic ebullition.
Well, time passed on. The tumult swelled and the crowd thickened. The who[le] air seemed hoarse with sound. Impatient expectation was at its height. People looked up to the town-clock, which shewed, in vivid sunlight, its hand on the stroke of twelve: another second, and every ear heard the deep, strong stroke of iron reverberate on the air. From Trinity Church and the minster it pealed more musically. Their chime was hardly hushed, when a few flags on the farthest outskirts of the crowd were seen to wave agitatedly. They crowded forward, and then were hurried back. A wild, deepening sound arose. One felt a sensation of panic, as it rushed on through the swaying, agitated ranks, gathering strength in its rapid approach. At last, close under the hotel windows, 'He is coming - he is coming!' was shouted from a hundred voices. Within the house the announcement rose, and footsteps stamped up the staircase. My chamber door burst open, and twenty persons were at my back, pressing one behind another to get a glimpse from the window; I saw, as I leaned far out, every sash along the wide front similarly occupied.