Page:Once a Week June to Dec 1863.pdf/561

 . 7, 1863.] epistle, Monmouth entered. He threw himself into a large chair, and desired his visitor to take the other, remarking that in these fatiguing days, it was well to repose themselves while they could.

The Squire, however, only bowed without seating himself.

“These are times for plain speaking, Mr. Battiscombe,” said Monmouth, with undisturbed good-humour; “and I am anxious to know what part such a man as you thinks of taking, now that the decisive moment for the fortunes of England has arrived. M. Florien tells me that no man is more anxious for the restoration of Protestantism to the throne.”

“M. Florien is right. No man can be more steadfastly set towards that restoration than I. It is my daily and nightly prayer.”

“That is well: but deeds must follow prayers. I may, therefore, reckon on your friendship, my good sir. I could not seriously doubt this, though some, less well-informed in regard to you, were questioning it just now. You must let me know your wishes. I am right, am I not?”

“I can never be your Grace’s enemy: but if being your friend means taking part in this enterprise, I am bound to say that I am not yet prepared to do so.”

“Permit me,” the Duke said, going to the door, and calling to Lord Grey.

“Here, my Lord Grey!” said the Duke, when the door was closed. “It will be best for Mr. Battiscombe, as well as for me, that our conference should be witnessed,—in order to avoid future mistakes. Is it not so, Mr. Battiscombe?”

The Squire bowed, and did not fail to observe that the Duke did not resume his seat.

“Mr. Battiscombe will tell us,” continued Monmouth, “why, not being our enemy, he cannot be our friend.

The Squire delivered his mind without any hesitation.

“There are more reasons than one,” he said, “why it is impossible for me to enter rashly into engagements which, unless they be loyal towards God and my country, are treason to the throne, and the peace of these realms.”

“So far no question can be raised,” observed Monmouth. “But where is the rashness? You have long counted on a Protestant king to succeed the present Papist Usurper; and, unless I am misinformed, you have trained your children in this expectation.”

“It is true,” answered the Squire. “Such is the confident expectation of my household: but it was not to your Grace that our expectation pointed.”

“I understand: but my cousins have no claim in the presence of mine, as the son of the late king. That, however, is, as you would remark, a point to be cleared up. We shall not differ as to the necessity of full investigation.”

“His Majesty” interposed Lord Grey.

“Nay, my good Lord,” said Monmouth, “I entreat you to observe my wishes about the postponement of that title. Mr. Battiscombe is more correct in accosting me as the Monmouth I was in my father’s life-time:—more correct even in the manner, if you will allow me to say so, considering the care I have taken to explain that I submit my claims to the decision of a free parliament. Does this satisfy you, Mr. Battiscombe? Do you not see in me a leader to Protestant ascendancy, leaving the personal claim to the decision of parliament?”

“I do not,” was the calm reply. “I am credibly informed that your Grace has this morning touched two young persons for the King’s-evil.”

Monmouth laughed, but he coloured also, as he asked whether in such an emergency a man must not shape his conduct by the desires of the people, whom he must speak fair.

The Squire thought not. But, as he had said, there were other difficulties besides the dread of recommending one who had never been a prince—

“Say a bastard at once,” said Monmouth. “I have been accustomed to the discussion; and I have myself provoked it now.”

The Squire bowed, and proceeded with his sentence—

“To the throne of these realms. I heard your Grace’s Declaration read in the market-place just now.”

“Surely that Declaration must meet your views,” cried Lord Grey, “or you must have turned papist.”

“In its proposals of a free Protestant rule, and its accusations of the present King’s government for its tyranny, bad principle, and bad faith, I fully agree,” the Squire replied. “But I heard with concern the charges against King James of having devised the Great Fire; (the Popish Plot I do not in any way comprehend). More painful still was it to hear the King charged with having made away with the Earl of Essex, and destroyed his own brother by poison.”

“These things are true,” Lord Grey observed.

“I believe them to be false,” replied the Squire; “and I regret the rashness with which such scandals are thrown down before a justly-incensed, but passionate people. I cannot enter into a movement driven on by the engine oof [sic] false-witness against high or low, whether they be, in regard to myself, friends or persecutors.”

There was a moment’s silence, which the Squire made use of to begin his retreat: but Monmouth spoke again.

“I fear the Declaration is ill-judged,” he said. “The next shall be prepared by myself. I am thankful to Mr. Battiscombe for his sincerity,—disappointing as it will be to others, as to myself. Such avowals leave me no right to inquire further on the subject for which I asked this interview,—what part Mr. Battiscombe intends to take.”

The answer to this was as direct as all that had gone before. A man who thought as he did, the Squire declared, could not be far wrong in waiting for guidance as to the direction of his loyalty, provided he was active meanwhile in keeping the field clear, and the public peace unbroken for the great decision when the moment should arrive. He had his function in the town; and he would crave his Grace’s permission to be no longer absent from it.

He was in the doorway when Monmouth addressed him once more. With his winning smile he said that he and Mr. Battiscombe might yet meet as friends,—yes, even as comrades in