University of Virginia Library

9. CHAPTER IX.
THE MARQUIS AND HIS CONFESSION.

Martin at once placed himself between
the brewer and his father-in-law, and said
with a firm and calm countenance,

`Do not be too much in a hurry, sir.
My father intends to remain with us.'

`Then where is your money for me?'
asked Harrell with a smile of surprize
and anger. `But I see you have not got
it, and only want to gain time. Officer,
do your duty, and take that old man to
prison.'

`Not so fast, not so fast, Mr Harrell,'
said the boatman with a smile of contempt
and conscious power. `Here is a
paper that will probably change the face
of things a little.'

As he spoke he placed the paper that
the Earl had left with him, in the creditor's
hands. Harrell took it with a
sneer, doubtless regarding it as some
note or renewed bond. But no sooner
had he glanced at the writing and cast
his eyes upon the signature, than his color
fled, and an expression of mingled fear
and shame took possession of his feat
ures. Martin and Martha fixed their
eyes upon him, and noticed his emotion
wtth no little pleasure. It assured them
that they had no longer any reason to
fear their enemy. He read rapidly the
few lines and then with a brow fearfully
scowling, turned upon them.

`Where did you get this? How came
you to see Lord Percival?' he demanded
trembling with rage.

`He wrote it here, last night,' answered
Martin. `I took him off to, and
brought him back from a vessel in the
river. I told him of your oppression and
he wrote that at the table there in the
corner, and desired me to give it to you
when you came for the money.'

`Very well. It is expedient for certain
reasons that I comply with his lordship's
request. But you have made me
your enemy—beware how you fall into
my power, you or the old man.'

`I shall take good care of that,' answered
Martin, as Harrell accompanied
by the officer, left the house muttering
vengeance against those he had hoped to
have in his hands.

`Now thank God for this, Martha,'—
exclaimed the boatman as he closed the
door after their departure. `We have
escaped as it were from the hands of the
Philistines.'

`I fear some other poor persons will
suffer for our exemption. He is sure to
vent his spite upon somebody. How
grateful we ought to be indeed. How
truly noble is Lord Percival.'

The nobleman to whom they were in
the fulness of their hearts offering tribtes
of gratitude, after he quitted the
humble abode of the waterman, walked
rapidly along the quay preceded by
Paul with a lantern. After passing the
entrance of one street, they came to a
narrow winding lane, which led by a
serpentine course between rows of lofty
dingy buildings towards one of the most
elegant thoroughfares in the city.

`We will take this way, Paul,' said
the Earl, `it is nigher.

Paul turned into it, and on account of
the narrowness of the sidewalks, they
were both compelled to take the middle
of the alley. After a few hundred yards
they emerged upon a broad street, dimly
lighted with lamps at long intervals.—
the ediflces upon it were of a large and
uniform choracter. They were chiefly
occupied by the nobleman of the House
of Lords and their families during the
session of Parliament, In their immediate
vicinity was the Palace.

The Earl and his servant passed along
this street a few rods, until they came to
a very noble mansion, above the portico
of which was suspended a lamp that shed
its beams upon a flight of marble steps
that ascended to the main entrance.—
This house was immediately contiguous
to the palace itself, before which could
be seen passing to and fro, the indistinct
form of the sentry on guard. Up the
steps Paul conducted the Earl and with
a pass-key opened the door for him, and
stood aside to let him enter.

`I shall not need your services further
to night, Paul! You can go to bed and
sleep but on your way to your room you
can rouse up Julian and send him into
the library to me.'

Paul closed and locked the street
door and bowing in obedience to his master's
commands disappeared by a door
at the end of the hall. His lordship then
ascended the stairs which were winding
spacious and ornamented with niches in
which stood statues and by pictures hung
upon the walls. A candle or two burning
in a chandelier that hung in the elegant
and lofty hall cast the light upon
them with just sufficient strength to show
that they were exquisite works of art.—
Half way to the left of the flight was a
landing place where was a door ajar.—
This the Earl opened and through it
passed into a large and superb library,
furnished with all the luxuries for literary
indulgence, with all those elegancies
which a man of highly cultivated tastes
loves to gather around him in his retirement,
A silver lamp with a beaked
tube, burned upon a marble table. Upon
the rug before the grate, in which
still glowed a cheerful fire, crouched a
large brown Newfoundland dog in an attitude
at once graceful and dignified.

Upon hearing the earl's step, he raised
his majestic head and turning upon him
a sleepy but affectionate glance, he gently
wagged his tail and resumed again
his former attitude with his nose resting
upon his fore-paws. In a velvet arm-chair
opposite the grate, sat, or rather
reclined, a youth of sixteen or seventeen
years of age, fast asleep; his head fallen
upon one shoulder, one foot hanging over
the arm of the chair and the other resting
upon the shaggy back of the dog. He
was a very handsome boy, with brown,
flowing curls shading his cheek and
neck; and lips so ruby that a maiden
might have envied them. His dress was

very rich and tasteful, consisting of a
green spencer of silk, embroidered with
gold thread, a deep collar of the finest
mecklin lace turned back over his shoulder;
trowsers, or rather short clothes of
lemon colored velvet, tied at the knee
with green and orange tinted ribbons; his
stockings were snowy white and fastened
below the knee by a garter studded with
emeralds; and in his shoes sparkled a
pair of diamond buckles. Upon the table
by his side lay a jaunty scarlet cap with
a snow-white feather in it, the brim of
the cap looped up in front and fastened
by a diamond. Altogether he was a very
gay and agreeable pattern of a page to a
nobleman of the reign of which we write.
Upon discovering him the earl ejaculated,

`Ah, Julian is here. He has sat up
for me and gone to sleep watching. I
will let him sleep it out. It is now three
o'clock. I will not go to the palace until
sun-rise. I need repose also. The information
I have obtained to-night can
be communicated in the morning.'

Leaving the nobleman to seek brief repose
after the exciting scenes and events
of the night, we will now go back a few
hours and explain the circumstances
which led him to go off to the smuggling
schooner and seek his interview with the
crown's prisoner, Bonfield.

About four hours previous to the time
when he applied to the door of Martin
the boatman in the storm, desiring him to
launch his boat upon the wild waters, he
was seated in the very library where we
now find him returned, when a messenger
came in and seemingly in great disturbance
handed him a note. He tore it
open and read simply as follows:

`What means this, sir?' demanded the
earl of the bearer, who wore the livery of
the nobleman who had written to him.
`Can it be possible lord Ross is at the
point of death? This is sudden. What
has happened to him?'

`He ruptured a blood vessel after dinner,
as he was getting in his carriage to
go to the House,' answered the bearer.
`The surgeons say he cannot live through
the night.'

`Say to my lord that I will follow you
at once,' answered the earl.

The man had no sooner departed than
earl Percival called to his page, who was
quietly amusing himself at a game of
solitare in the window recess.

`My lord,' answered the lad, coming
forward.

`Fly to the Duke of — with this
note which I am writing, and make no
delay.' What he wrote was as follows:

`I hasten to inform your Royal Highness
that lord Ross has ruptured a blood
vessel and lies at the point of death. He
has sent for me to see him without delay.
What the nature of his communication
with me may be I cannot even surmise,
especially as we have not been on any
terms for years. After the interview I
will wait on your Royal Highness.

Percival.'

The page took the note and instantly
departed with it. The earl then ordered
his carriage, and in a few moments was
driving towards the residence of the dying
nobleman. As he went he cast over in
his mind what could be the object of this
urgent demand to see him. The two noblemen
had been for years in opposite
parties, and at one time leaders of the
opposition. Lord Ross had many years
ago been the chief man of the realm in
political influence and power. The national
will was guided and controlled by
his. His voice decided the fate of millions.
He was second only to the crown,

yet more powerful than the throne itself.
The nation bowed to his supremacy and
committed itself confidingly into his
hands. By his own talents he had elevated
himself to this dizzy height, and by
his own commanding intellect he held it
in the face of opposition. His political
enemies called him deceitful, a traitor, a
base man. His friends, the warmest
among which was the throne itself, upon
which he leaned and at the same time
upheld, pronounced him the conservative
spirit of the realm. Such was the character
and splendid elevation of the marquis
of Ross.

The Earl of Percival came into power
some few years subsequent to the period
when lord Ross was at the summit of his.
They belonged to opposite parties. The
fall of lord Ross was at length mainly
brought about by the influence of lord
Percival. The latter rose upon the ruins
of his rival, and with him rose a new
ministry, while the former, with their
chief, retired almost altogether from public
life. There were one or two exceptions,
and one of these was the marquis
himself, who still endeavored to fan into
flame the dying embers of the late dominant
faction. But he failed; and at
length wholly withdrew from political
contests, simply contenting himself with
his seat and opposition vote in the House
of Lords.

Between him and the Earl of Percival
there had been no intercourse for many
years, save a formal bow of recognition
when meeting in public. The Earl was
therefore surprised to get from him the
note which he had received, containing
so urgent a request to see him. He was
also grieved to learn the imminent danger
he was in; for the Earl was a man
who never carried his political feelings
so far as to change them into personal
animosities.

The carriage at length stopped in front
of the mansion of the Marquis, and the
Earl alighting, was received by a footman,
who replied in a low voice to his
inquiry, that his master was rapidly failing.
The nobleman followed him into
the bed-chamber of the ambitious politician,
now about to pass through the last
scene of man's life. The large and sumptuous
apartment was darkened, and the
absence of the light of day was supplied
by a lamp shaded and softened by a globe
of ground glass. There was a surgeon
seated by the bedside, and one or two attendants
standing near.

`Who is it? Is it Percival?' asked
the Marquis carnestly, as the Earl entered,
and speaking in a tone that showed
how anxious he was for his arrival.

`Yes, my lord,' answered the surgeon,
Sir Edward —, rising; `but do not
suffer yourself to speak with such earnestness.
You must talk but little, and
very low.'

`My dear sir Edward,' said the Marquis,
when seeing that it was the Earl
Percival, `I pray you leave me and call
again in an hour. My servants will also
leave the chamber.'

`I obey your lordship,' answered the
surgeon; `but I beg you will not talk too
much. A few minutes only at the farthest.'

`Do not dictate to me,' answered the
Marquis in an impatient tone. `My lord,'
he added to the Earl, as the latter slowly
advanced towards the bed, `I am glad
you are come. This is no time for ceremonies.
Please to be seated, and let me
talk with you a little while. Good by,
Sir Edward. In an hour you may drop
in again.'

`Do not suffer him to talk much, my
lord,' said the surgeon to the Earl, as he
went out. `He cannot live many hours,
and excitement might put him out all at
once like a candle.'

`I will try to comply with your wish,
doctor,' said the Earl, `but I did not come

on an idle visit, having been sent for.
But I trust, as he is so low, to be detained
for a few minutes.'

The Earl and the Marquis, the two
once great leaders of national parties;
the one fallen and near to his end, the
other still in the splendor of his power.

`My lord,' said the Marquis, `sit down.
This is a strange meeting for us. But
the approach of death alters one's feelings
wonderfully. I am obliged to you
for coming to see me so promptly. I
have something upon my mind which I
cannot die without revealing, and in some
way opening a way for atonement to the
innocent and wronged. I have selected you
as the most suitable person to make the
confession to; for I have always done
homage in my heart to your wisdom, your
worth, and your integrity. Nay, my
lord, for these high qualities which so
adorn your administration, I have hated
you. But let all this pass. The surgeon
says I shall not last till morning. My
last breath shall be devoted to an effort
to right the wronged.'

`I fear your lordship will exert yourself
too much; yet I am prepared to hear
what you wish to say.'

`If I turn over and die with the last
words of my confession on my lips, my
lord, I shall die happy, and have lived
to-night to better purpose than if without
revealing it to you, I should linger for
years.'

The Marquis then raised himself in his
bed without an effort, and sat up; his
face pale and haggard, and his dark somrer
eyes, bright with the light that comes
from beyond the grave, turned upon the
sympathizing countenance of the Earl.

`My lord,' he said firmly, yet in a
hollow tone of voice, I wish you to understand
that what I am about to say is
every word truth. Believe it all, for I
shall not feel myself able to enter into
any particular explanations. But these
will suggest themselves to your mind.
You were not yet prominently in political
life twenty years ago, when I was at the
head of affairs, but, doubtless are familiar
with the history of my administration?
of the iniquity of some parts of that period
of power may Almighty God pardon
me when I appear before him. But you
shall hear all, my lord. I had been a
few months in the high position which I
held, and which you now so honorably
fill, when I was sent for by the king to
hasten to the palace. As it was near the
time of the Queen's accouchment which
was hourly looked for, I supposed that
this event was at hand, especially, as I
saw the messenger proceed to the palace
of a nobleman next door, who, with myself
and others, were the persons distinguished
to be present on that occasion,
as is customary.

I at once hastened to the palace, and
met the king in the first ante-room. He
was pale as death, and looked as if he
was under the strongest excitement.
Taking hold of me by the arm he led me
without saying a word into his cabinet,
and closing the door, said,

`My lord, an event has occurred that
will involve England in trouble after I
am no more. The Queen has been suddenly
taken in labour, and not half an
hour ago gave birth to twins! She is
doing well and I have despatched messengers
to the court physicians, &c. But
before they arrive it is expedient that
one of the children be secretly removed.
The birth of two is known only to the
nurse who was with the Queen, and to
myself.'

`Which was the eldest, your Majesty?'
I asked, as soon as I could recover from
my surprise.

`The female. Now, my lord, let this
infant be at once taken away, before it is
discovered that the Queen has twin children.
Let it be tenderly nurtured; but

the knowledge of its birth for ever kept
from it. Seek out without delay a suitable
person to take it from its mother,
who with the nurse, shall be made to suppose
that it is dead. Will you agree to
this? The peace of the realm seems to
require it, my lord. For when they
grow up, there will be factions about
their succession, and England will again
be deluged with blood on account of its
kings.'

`I will obey your Majesty,' I answered;
for I saw, with the King, that the existence
of twins both equal claimants t
the throne would, if they were both acknowledged,
unquestionably lead to civil
wars in another generation, precisely
like the hundred other civil wars about
the succession of which, England has been
the theatre. I saw that the King was
wise in taking this view of the matter,
and at once, without hesitation assented
to his suggestion. His Majesty then
pressed my hand in token of his gratitude,
and going into the next room in a few
moments returned, bearing in his arms
the female infant closely wrapped.

`Take it my lord, and without delay
bear it to the house, No. — Albermarle
street, where lives a woman who
applied yesterday to the palace to be one
of the wet nurses, when the Queen should
be confined. She will gladly take the
child; but by no means let her know
whence it comes. For the safety of the
child afterwards, I shall carefully look,
for though policy commands me to take
this painful step, I shall never forget that
I am the helpless infant's parent. It
shall never suffer aught of evil, save the
loss of the crown.'

`I then, my Lord Percival,' resumed
the Marquis, `carefully bore the child to
my carriage, and drove to the house designated,
which was about five minutes
ride. I fortunately found the woman at
home and placed the child, with a purse
of fifty guineas in her lap, saying to her,

`Protect and nourish this infant, and
in a few days you will hear from me
again.'

`I then hastened to the palace. By
this time the rumour that the Queen had
been prematurely confined, and that a
prince was born, had flown throughout
the palace. All was excitement and joy,
and congratulations, I met the two Court
physicians who arrived as I did, and also
saw two of the lords whose duty it was
to have been present at the accouchment.[1]
I found his Majesty in his cabinet with
two or three noblemen. Upon seeing
me he looked inquiringly, and upon my
answering his glance in the affirmative,
he smiled and appeared relieved from
deep anxiety. In a short time I was enabled
to see the King alone. He then
informed me that he had made known to
the nurse, that she must keep the birth of
the female infant a secret, as it might
not live, and that he had taken it away
to give it to a nurse in waiting, to take
charge of it. The woman promised
secrecy; and `as for the Queen' continued
his Majesty, `she paid no attention
to what I did. The nurse will be faithful,
of that be assured,' he said, impressively.

`I will not detain your Lordship,' said
the dying Marquis, `with entering into
details. Suffice it to say, that the secret
was faithfully kept by the nurse; and as
she was made to understand a few days
after, that the female infant had not lived,
there was nothing more to be feared from
that quarter. The Queen was also led
to believe the same; and the people at
large only knew of the birth of a prince.'

Here the Marquis paused, and for some
moments rested to recover energy sufficient
to proceed. The Earl watched him
with deep anxiety; for having heard so
much of this singular revelation, he was
deeply interested to hear all that remained
to be revealed. His surprise at the
confession of the Marquis thus far, cannot
be adequately expressed in words.

`What became of the infant, my Lord
Marquis? Did it die?' he asked with
much earnestness.

`No, my Lord. After remaining with
the woman to whom I had taken it about
six weeks, by the King's order I removed
it into the country and gave it in charge
to a young married woman, whose husband
used to be an under park-keeper to
the crown. This female the King had
personally, yet privately selected; though
she was ignorant whose child she received
to nurture. The woman who first
took it also, was wholly unsuspicious;
for, as I have said, there was no suspicion
anywhere, that a princess had been born
twin with the Prince. The nurse and
the Queen both believed it dead, and by
the King's request, were ever after silent,
upon the subject. The King, who felt
that he was doing the infant a wrong,
though from what he considered the best
of motives, peace and tranquility to the
kingdom, was deeply solicitous to have
the infant carefully nurtured, and told me
that he believed in his heart that he should
love it after all, better than he ever should
the Prince. The child thrived wonderfully.
It was my part to visit it once a
month at the King's desire, which I did
do, disguised as a London merchant, in
which character I had placed it with the
park-keeper. The King would often
ride out, ostensibly to hunt, and passing
by the cottage, stop to look at the child,
covering his parental curiosity and affection,
under a request for a glass of water,
or some message for the Park-keeper.—
But now, my lord, comes the deep guilt
which I have to confess, and which must
be spoken out before I can die.' This
was said with a bitter moan, and with a
look of deep contrition.