Published Monthly. 4 ZSSES ay Library Series, No. 4. LIBRARY | BEADLE AND COMPANY, 118 WILLIAM ST., NEW YORK. A. Williams & Co., 100 Wash’n St,, Boston — 0 Qi Adeayr y ¥ —— $< —I A GOOD LOVE STORY! BEADLE’S Dime Library of Choice Fiction No. 5, TO ISSUE TUESDAY, MAY 24th, Will be a capital love story-of to-day, by one of our most popular authors, | viz.: THE COUNTRY COUSIN. This delightful novelintroduces us to a series of characters and incidenta of a lively and exciting nature, It is a real love story, in which there are, however, other elements than those of the Divine Passion. The Country Cousin is a true woman—neither weakened by her sex nor spoiled by social . conventionalities; and her clear, tangible character gives us a nobler idea, ' of pure womanhood than we are apt to obtain from contact with “ fashion. able society.”” We commend this story to all in quest of a thoroughly en joyable heart romance, No, aa BLACKSMITH OF ANTWERP, No. 3-THE MAIDEN MARTYR, No. 4—THE LOYALIST. —_ No, 1-THE WHITE-FACED PACER, Sold by all Newsdealers. Price Tx cents, Sent, post-paid, to any ad- dress, on receipt of price. BEADLE AND COMPANY, General Dime Book Publishers, 118 WILLIAM STREET, New York, . Entered according to Act of Congress, in the Year 1864, by BEADLE AND Company, in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. ate... re, iry ial . lea ’ on. ey 2 ag re THE LOYALIST; OR, THE CHANNEL SCOURGE. A STORY OF THE PROTECTORATE AND RESTORATION. Bi ,s..G. PIPE. NEW YORE: BEADLE AND. COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, 18 WILLIAM STREET. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by BEADLE AND COMPANY, In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. , (L. No. 4.) #° ~Ey “4 SPLENDID MATCH.” , 35 peerless loveliness, and, motioning her’ to a stool at her feet, said : “Lucy, Lord Dudley has asked your hand in mar- riage, and your father has granted the boon.” “T hope not,” the maiden answered. “I thought I already had given father sufficient proofs to con- vince him that it never can be with my consent. There is too great a disparity in age, and more than all, I can never love him, mother.” , “We do not expect your consent,” answered her ~ mother, “ only acquiescence ; and as for love, there is — no such thing in high life. Girls marry for fortune and position. Ridiculous, to talk of love! Leave that to the poor and humble ; it is all they have.” “Mother, Lord Dudley is vain, proud, arrogant, cruel; he is, I am sure, a stranger to all the finer feelings of the human heart. He is no fit companion for any pure-minded' woman. I never can respect, never live happily with him.” “We do not expect you to live happily, or any other way, with him. You will have separate estab- lishments, of course. It is a splendid match for you, and all you have to do is to make yourself agreeable to your husband when you do see him. You will be the envy of all your acquaintances. What lady can hold so brilliant a court, or be mistress of so magnifi- cent an establishment as Lady Dudley ? So let me hear no more weak objections ; be like a nobleman’s daughter, and play the queen, regally, as you now | have the power to do.” With this injunction the mother dismissed her. She obeyed as if in a dream. Dismissing her SNA 36 THE LOYALIST. maid, she threw herself upon her couch and groaned in bitterness of heart. The beautiful shells which Richard had given her, lay carefully arranged in a little ebony cabinet. She took them up, one by one, and pressed them to her heart and lips. ‘“‘ Where is he now ?” she murmured. She drew a large easy-chair to the window looking in the direction of Scarphoot, and gazed off sadly upon the setting sun as it sunk beneath the waves of the distant sea. The melancholy depicted upon her beautiful face it was painful to see—painful that one so young and pure shonld suffer so at the cruel behest of mammon. Alas! how many as pure and good have suffered sacrifice at the same unholy and inde- cent altar ! “J told him that this hand was his whenever he should claim it. It is pledged before God, and never can be given to another. Is there really no escape from this_loathsome alliance, prepared for me? I covet neither wealth, rank, nor station. Happier far would I be, the wife of Richard Graham, the fisher- man of Scarphoot, than the bride of the proudest, lord in England’s realm.” She covered her face with her hands, and the tears stole silently down her cheeks—the only vent of a heart wounded to the very core. As Lucy left her mother’s presence, her father entered the room. ** Have you spoken to Lucy concerning her marriage with Lord Dudley ?” he asked. : “‘T have,” Lady Branden replied; “she says she has already told you it can never be, with her consent.” —_ + — “4 FOOLISH GIRL.” 87 “She braves me, does she ?” he exclaimed. Or is she ignorant of the great power and wealth to ihe conferred upon her ?” “ She repudiates all with seeming scorn,” was the answer ; “ and, if I guess aright, I think she will not wed Lord ee because she wishes to wed some- body else.” * William was right. ~That low-bred fisherman, with his fair face and contributions of shells, has com- pletely turned her foolish little head; but it matters not. It is easy to undo that mischief by a word of stern command. She is a very dutiful child, and will obey me,I have no doubt. Yes, yes, I shall have the affair speedily brought toa close. Great wealth and rank united! Such matches are scarce nowadays. Foolish girl! But no more of the fish- erman! See that preparations are made for.solem- nizing the nuptials in three weeks’ time,” he added, in a peremptory tone, to his wife. “My word is pledged.” With this he left the room. Lucy was still sitting with her face buried in her hands, ahd was so busy communing with her own thoughts that she had not heard the entrance of her father. The'earl gazed upon her for some time in silence. At length he spoke : “ Lucy, I little expected this from you. I thought you were old enough to put off childish things. I have watched over you from infancy with parental care, and now I learn, with surprise, that you wish to thwart me in my efforts to see you placed ina position equal to my station and your own merits.” 4 2 38 THE LOYALIST. “Father, my hand is promised to another; it is not mine to give.” “This to me!” said her father, in a voice terrible from suppressed passion. ‘ Do you dare to tell me that you have promised your hand without my knowledge or sanction? Prepare yourself to re- ceive Lord Dudley for your husband in three weeks’ time.” — “Father, my heart is another’s—my hand is pledged. I can not break that pledge, without breaking my heart. Are you prepared to make such a sacrifice as that ?” she asked, in a tone of mingled duty and entreaty. “ What madness is this? It is a mere child’s whim, to be forgotten in a month of court life. I do not ask you to break your heart, but I do expect you to become Lady Dudley within the time named. So, make up your mind to the honor.” With this order he left the room, and she was again alone with her misery. The sun had already risen above the eastern hori- zon and scattered his bright rays through the room, when Lucy awoke from her restless slumberse It was some time before she could recall the events of the preceding evening. The words of her father at length came to startle her into a full consciousness of her wretchedness, “In three weeks,” she moaned, in the uttermost despair. ‘*Oh! where is Richard? What will he think of this? Oh! that I might die! Oh, God, in mercy take me to thyself!” 7 { t | a f | hie if 7) , ue 7 4 » ee SRE 7 =a i Ss i ee t | CROMWELL’S TROOPERS. ns) CHAPTER V. THE ROUNDHEADS AND THEIR PREY. | Axsour the middle of. the afternoon succeeding the fight between the Avenger and the Z'hunderer, the hamlet of Scarphoot was filled with Cromwell’s Roundhead troopers, sent to guard the court, and to et — intercept any fugitive Royalist who might be hoping. ¥ in this way to reach the court of France. Many of + these troopers came to the cottage 6f Mrs. Graham. r| Wherever they went they took, as a right, what was | given, and compelled what came reluctantly. Mrs. Graham was entertaining them to the best of her ability, and led them to. suppose, without saying as much, that both herself and son were followers of oi Cromwell. The cottage of Mrs. Graham stood near the water ; ' hence the leader and three of his band chose this | | spot as their post of observation and guard. Others - i were sent to different stations around the hamlet. = | | These troopers were sitting in the outer room, lin- gering about the door, and lounging upon the benches. The widow Graham had just sent Mabel to them with a fresh supply of spiced liquor, and the good wo- man herself was in the kitchen preparing a small cask of the same, to be ready when called for, when she heard alow rap upon the window. Looking up she en RET a ee ee 40 THE LOYALIST. saw a person there, evidently begging to come in. He was a tall, pale-faced man, with deep black eyes, and long black hair, travel-worn, torn, and dusty, and sinking with fatigue. He wore a slouched hat, which nearly concealed his features, but it was evi- dent that he was a man of rank carefully disguised. Sure that he was some fugitive Royalist trying to escape from Cromwell’s myrmidons, she told him that the Roundheads were everywhere, even in her own cottage. “Can you not conceal me somewhere, my good woman ?” said he, “I am sickening with fatigue, and can travel no longer.” “J will do my best,” she said, and helping him to climb into the window. Pointing to a ladder, she bade him ascend quickly, which he did. The matron then prepared a basket of provisions with a bottle of wine and a jar of water, and, passing them up, told him there was a bed to lie upon and rest, enjoining him to keep per- fectly still. A signal of three gentle raps upon the trap, would be either herself or her son, whom she promised to send to him, and who would die to save the king, or any of his friends. The wayfarer held out a hand as. white as ‘snow, upon which blazed a magnificent diamond, and, grasp- ing her’s, pressed it to his lips. “You have saved my life,” he whispered, “ thanks, thanks !” Without another word, but a warning gesture to be silent, the trap was closed, and the ladder re- moved ; an act scarcely performed, when one of the 5 THE FUGITIVE KING. 41 troopers came out into the kitchen. Looking around with an air of inquiry, he said: “ Who was it you were just talking so earnestly with, my good dame ?” “My gardener,” she promptly replied. ‘He re- ports the destruction of some of my most valuable plants. It must be the handiwork of some of your men.” “Can’t help it, ma’am. It’s our business to take care of Royalists, not plants; but, by the way, where is this garden of yours? I don’t see it.” * Round upon the south side of the hamlet I have ‘asmall garden-spot, which is my sole dependence.” Happy that her ruse had succeeded so well, and fearing that any sound from above might reach his watchful ears, and seeing him disposed to linger, she told him that she considered the kitchen her own private apartment, and did not wish to be intruded upon. They were welcome to the other rooms, but the kitchen was sacred to her alone. So, with a yawn, he left, no wiser, as yet. Meanwhile the Earl of Sussex was cruising in the channel, picking up all the fugitives who were so for- tunate as to escape in fishermen’s boats, or standing between them and the vessels of Cromwell, until they were safe. This was now getting to be a very precarious undertaking, as every spot along the coast was securely guarded. When Richard Graham came home in the even- ~~ + ing, his mother informed him of the presence of > 42 THE LOYALIST. the Roundheads, and also of her guest in the loft above. ‘ What if it should happen to be the king himself?” she said. * Oh, mother!” exclaimed Richard, “ if I could only be the means of effecting his escape, or perform some service for him!” “I promised to send you to him as soon as you came in,” said his mother. ‘Go, Mabel, and talk to those troopers a little while, that Richard may gain the loft above.” : Three raps upon the the trap, and it was cautiously opened. Richard ascended and closed it behind him. He informed his guest who he was, and gazed with absorbing interest upon his pale, worn, but noble countenance. The fugitive, in whispers, expressed his sincere thanks to himself and his mother for their kindness, and begged him, if it was in his power, to help him to reach the French coast. “Tam,” said he, “a true friend to the king, and all who assist me are his friends also. If he rises they rise with him; if he falls, they will have the consciousness of duty performed, and the approval of their own hearts to sustain them. I have great hopes,” he continued, “ of seeing Charles upon the throne of his ancestors.” - Richard, with his fine countenance blazing with enthusiasm, expressed his allegiance to his sover- eign, and declared his determination to follow his fortunes, promising to do all in his power to effect his guest’s escape. He then nervously opened the _» trap and closed it behind him, and the weary fugitive was again alone. RICHARD’S PLANS. 43 “It was now nearly dusk, and the troopers, after partaking of the excellent supper prepared for them, and drinking deep of the spiced liquors, were scat- tered around, snoring loudly. Richard and_ his mother, after searehing around to see that there were no spies nor eavesdroppers prowling about, con- sulted in whispers what was best to be done in this gkeat emergency. “I have no boat,” said Ritual bitterly ; “ but I can get Edward Gregory’s, and his assistance, also. We will make our preparations as for a fishing ex- cursion. We must have provisions and water, as it may be some time e’er we reach the coast of France. The ships of Cromwell throng the channel, and ‘this coast, upon every side and at every point, is guarded. I will go immediately and see Ned, and have this over as soon as possible. | Ned Gregory entered into the project of his friend with his usual impetuous. generosity. His boat had recently been repaired, and, for a fishing-smack, was avery rapid sailer. Preparing the boat for the ex- pedition, seeing that every thing needful was on board, and having her at the place of rendezvous at the appointed time, was left to him; while Richard’s part was to get his guest safely to it. The place of meeting was at the foot of Scarphoot rock, beneath whose moss-grown summit there was an immense cave, all of whose depths and mysteries had never yet been explored. This spot was chosen as it left but a short distance to walk before reaching the boat. But short as was the distance, the danger was imminent, as they must run the gauntlet between 44 THE LOYALIST. files of armed Roundheads. But Richard did not despair of success. He had embarked his fortunes and life in the enterprise, and was determined to succeed or perish in the attempt. Lucy, after receiving the terrible sentence of her father, felt that she would have willingly laid down and died; but as this boon was denied her, she félt a craving for sympathy and advice, Seating herself at a table she wrote a note, and, calling a trusty ser- vant, bade him take it to the residence of the Earl of Clarendon. His daughter, Mary, had been her schoolmate and friend, and their feelings and sympa- thies were those of attached friends. She was near Lucy’s own age, and, from constant association, they had become dear as sisters, and harbored no secrets from each other. Mary’s was a warm and constant temperament, and her feelings were strongly enlisted in the welfare of*her friend. “ Why,” she exclaimed, after warmly greeting Lucy, at their first interview after the order of her marriage had gone forth, “you look sad this morning.” “ When you hear the cause, dear Mary, you will not wonder.” “Let me hear it immediately then, that I may share it with you or afford you some consolation. Keep me no longer in suspense, I pray you.” ‘*‘ In three weeks’ time I am to be married to Lord Dudley, a man you know too well for me to give you any fresh cause of dislike.” “Why, Lucy, dear, I thoaght you had discarded him a long time ago.” LUCY’S TROUBLES. 45 * So I did; but he asked my father and his request was granted ; and I suppose there is no appeal from the wishes of a parent.” “Tf that parent requires nothing unreasonable,” added Mary. “When I see parents playing the tyrant over their children, trying to direct the course of love, or forcing them to marry against their will, considering not the misery they may be bringing upon them by such a cause, I can but think they are stretching their parental authority too far, and an awful responsibility will surely be theirs.” ** No one can tell from experience the desires of another’s heart,” said Lucy, sadly. ‘ Experience may aid youth in the affairs of the world, but the cool, calculating experience of age knows not the warm devotion of a fresh young heart, norythe power it has over reason, judgment, and even life itself. Little did I ever dream that I would ever be com- pelled to unite my fortunes with a man twice my age, and one whom I can not love.” * Time passed on. The deepest wretchedness in life is a continuance of petty pains, and Lucy found no relief for her sorrows, save in the tender and earnest sympathy of her friend. . “Rouse yourself,” dear Lucy, she would say; “ you are sadly altered. This will never do. Sup- pose Mr. Graham should chance to come along, he would not recognize you.” “T shall never see Richard again; no, never,” she ‘said, as she covered her face with her hands. It was evening, and Lucy lay upon her coueh, sad and dispirited. Her health was failing under the 46 ; THE LOYALIST. terrible tumult of her mind, and the trials she endured. She had been unusually disturbed during the day by her father’s demeanor toward her, for her unwillingness to comply with his wishes, and she told him that he was but digging the grave of his child. She lay thus, weary of life,.and daring to pray for death, when Mary entered with a long letter in her hand. ** How sadly you look, dear Lucy! Shall I read you some news, dear ?” asked Mary ; “it will beguile a little of the time.” “Tf you please, sweet friend.” Mary turned. over the leaves of her letter, and began: “Upon the stormy night of the fourteenth, the black clouds were careering across the * leaden sky, and the waves rearing themselves majestically from the mass of waters, then breaking with a deaf- ening roar and blinding shower of foam and spray “upon the black rocks of La Hague. A vessel was seen struggling with the adverse winds and battling sea, when the roar of a cannon was heard in the distance, and a bull-dog of Cromwell’s was seen on her track, following in her wake. ‘As she rose upon the crest of a wave, the Protector’s vessel poured into her a destructive broadside. On board that ves- sel were two or three fugitives, trying to reach the coast of France. They had chartered this small vessel to carry them over, paying her owner an enor- mous sum for the service. The vessel, severely injured by the shot, was toiling slowly round a head- land, now hidden in a trough, and now soaring high a MARY'S LETTER. 47 upon the crest of some giant wave. Her determined enemy, learning by means of spies set for the purpose, her destination, and the freight she bore, were so intent upon watching her, that they had failed to observe a great black hull, running under bare poles, only the stay-sail set, looming up on his starboard beam; and, ere they were aware of the close prox- imity of this black monster, a line of sheeted flame spouted from her side, a deafening report was heard, splinters were flying in every direction, the man at the wheel was killed, and the water reported rushing with fearful velocity into the after cabin. ‘’Tis Red Hand, curse him!’ said the Captain. ‘ How is it that he always comes upon us when least expected ? The devil is in league with him, that is certain.’ Orders were given to repair the breach, and this be- ing done, he looked around in search of his prey, and saw her making her way into the narrow entrance of the port of La Hague. She had escaped him, and he gnashed his teeth with rage—cursing Red Hand and his own ill luck. Determined to have revenge upon the Royalist, who was standing between pur- suer and pursued, be gave orders to load the guns to the very muzzle and give him a parting salute. The order was obeyed; deafening the report, and terrible the recoil. It seemed as though the batteries of heaven had been opened. When the smoke cleared away, some commotion was observed upon the deck of the Avenger, but, so far as they could see, no damage was done to the ship; but it was after- ward. learned that several of the crew of the Aven- ger had been wounded, and among them, Second 48 THE LOYALIST, Lieutenant Richard Graeme, said to be of Scar- phoot.” “ Richard Graeme, of Scarphoot!” Lucy cried, as she sprung to her feet, her face pale, and her eyes starting from their sockets. ‘ Lost, lost!” she groaned. ‘Oh, God! this is more than I can bear.” Mary, terrified, sprung to her side. * Only wounded, dear; he is only wounded,” she said, soothingly ; ‘ besides, how do you know it is your Richard? He is nota Lieutenant. Surely you are deceived. Compose yourself, then, I pray you; this terrible excitement will injure you. I havemore to read you, but I shall not dare to read more unless you calm yourself.” Lucy took a seat and tried to compose herself; but her nerves were so conipletely unstrung that she had lost all command of herself. “There, now, be a good child,” said Mary, sooth- ingly, “and I will tell yousomething. Lord Dudley is dangerously ill, and no hopes are entertained of his recovery. His disease is brain fever. Daily and ‘ hourly, bulletins of his health have been sent you; but, for some cause, they have been withheld.” Lucy did not speak, but her hands were clasped over her face, and her bosom heaved tumultuously. At length she said : “Thank thee, oh! most merciful God, that I hear from fim once again! An officer on board Red Hand’s ship! Meindl my conscience,” replied Richard. “ Having their approval, I crave no honors at the hand of a regicide and usurper.” “You are rather bold of speech,” angrily spoke the Captain, “for one in your situation.” “T thought, sir, that you, and all followers of Cromwell, were for freedom of thought and speech ? You call the king a ‘tyrant,’ we call Cromwell a ‘usurper.’” This severe application of Puritan logic was too much for the Captain. ising, he said: “ We will leave you to your reflections, which are doubtless more agreeable to you than to your hearers ;” and Richard was left alone. A FRIEND ON BOARD. 87 » “Well, Mumford,” said the Captain, when he reached the deck, ‘you have made sure that your prisoner shall not escape. Tow many pounds of iron do you suppose he has on him ?” “The saucy dog,” said Mumford, “ I will keep iron upon him until he repents of his sins, or bids us adieu for a better service in another world.” “ By my faith, but you are a staunch Roundhead; I must report you for promotion,” added the Cap- tain, approvingly. ** Much obliged to you, sir; but I am satisfied with my present office. I can here serve my country bet- ter than if I were elsewhere.” The second officer smiled with a visible sensation of satisfaction, but the Captain was unable to inter- pret it. Mumford was, thereafter, implicitly trusted, and used his exclusive charge of Richard to amelio- rate the young man’s unpleasant position. “How good you are,” said Richard. “How can “I repay you for your kindness to me here ?” “By saying nothing now,” was the reply, “and leaving all to me.” “That I will; but can you see any prospect of a release from this scrape—some hope for me ?” *“ Not much of a prospect at present,” replied his jailer, “ but we must keep a good look-out, and take advantage of every favorable circumstance. I must be wary and watchful. This fellow you risked your life and liberty to bring to this ship, is a very bitter enemy. He is plotting for your destruction and may succeed. We must be prepared to outwit them. Be of good heart. I will keep you apprised of all 88 THE LOYALIST. that is going on.” Richard felt that he had a friend, and was greatly comforted. It was the afternoon preceding the evening upon which Sussex and Lucy Branden were lost, that Mumford sought his prisoner. “They are going to take you to the Tower of London,” said he; ‘* we must escape from the ship this night, or perish in the attempt.” Richard’s cheek blanched at the terrible name of the Tower. Few who entered the portal of that most terrible stronghold, ever came forth again but for burial. He thought of Lucy, the fair being, whose gentle heart he felt was throbbing in anguish for his absence; he pondered over his singular and ee meeting with the king and the Karl of Sussex ; he dwelt upon his short sojourn upon the noble dip; and the friendship professed for him by his sovereign and the earl; he looked with pride upon the high and honor ie post. he held on board the Avenger. Was all to be so short-lived, and his doom to be to linger in chains the remainder of his life, or to die an ignominious death upon the scaf- fold? He could only express the dreadful agony of the hour by his groans and irrepressible tears. The evening set in dark and gloomy ; fitful gusts of wind came and went. Streaks of jagged light- ning shot athwart the heavens; the thunder rolled over the arching sky. The sailors had partaken their evening rations, and preparations were making for the coming storm. * We are likely to have a greasy night of it, Nor- ton,” said the Captain of the Culloden, addressing at si oieities oe ae ESCAPE FROM THE SHIP. 89 his first officer; “make all fast; haul out a league or so from land and cast anchor. Call me if neces- sary; I am going below.” “Ay, ay, sir!” was the seamanlike response. “Haul out from the land it is. Lively, my lads; strip her to the bare poles! The storm will soon be upon us, but all you will have to do will be to watch that she does not foul her anchor.” The sailors were soon busy at their appointed posts, until all orders were executed. Then the evening watch was set, and those whose off turn it was prepared to ait’ in. Mumford held the first watch. Before stationing himself at his post he went below, freeing Richard of all his fastenings. He then gave him a great watch-coat, to pull over his royal uniform ; then placed i in his hands the end of a rope which Ha had run in from above, ordering that when he pulled the cord, the prisoner was to come boldly up the hatchway; “ for,” said he, “ this night we must make the attempt to escape. To-morrow will see you an inmate of the ‘Tower,’ if you re- main. The night will be of an Egyptian darkness, and there is an appearance of a terrible storm, but we must brave it; it is the only hope I have of saving you. Better a damp grave in the deep, than the Tower dungeons !” tichard warmly grasped the hand of his friend, and signified his readiness for the emergency. Mumford returned to the deck and assumed his watch. The wind was now blowing a perfect hurricane. The ship rose and fell upon the fast-rising swells, 90 THE LOYALIST. but her anchors held her fast. Nearly all on board had gone to their respective places of repose, and Mumford and two midshipmen were all who were now on the after deck. The storm continued to in- crease in fury, and the precious moments were pass- ing away. The two midshipmen crept under a pile of ‘sails to shelter themselves from the wind. Mum- ford paced back and forth, and at last he pulled the cord. Immediately Richard appeared on the deck. Mumford at once motioned him aft, and finding all clear, he soon followed. They proceeded to the davits, where swung the Captain’s small launch. This was noiselessly lowered into the mad waters which thréatened to ingulf.it every moment, but it rode bravely, and running down by the pulleys, the men were soon safely in their seats, then they cut adrift, and were soon far astern of theship. Notdaring to approach the land if it could be avoided, and being good boatmen, they pulled on in the direction of the spot where Richard had left the Avenger. The wind favored their progress, and they were driven forward at a rapid rate. Such was the force of the wind, that it sometimes seemed their very coats would be blown off, but they kept their little craft steady, and passed on in safety during the darkness. Finally, the clouds began to clear away and it grew lighter. * Surely I see something which looks like a boat off there with two persons in it. Look, Graham, off to the south’ard.” é Richard gazed off in the direction indicated. “You are right, my good friend, but it is nota ’ RESCUE OF LUCY AND THE EARL. 91 boat ; it is, I think, two persons seated upon a plank or spar.” He continued his scrutiny. “If Iam not greatly mistaken, one of them is a woman!” Mumford, too, was now intently scanning the ob- ject. “Sure as guns!” he exclaimed.’ “If that is not a petticoat, then John Mumford never had a mother. Let us pull for our lives. The wind has fallen considerably. Hold ? ee Graham, to let them know help is near.” They had nothing white about them, so they pulled with tremendous strokes. Soon they neared the float, when Mumford shouted: “Keep up good courage, help is near!” The backs of the poor wrecked creatures were toward them, but the head of the man turned quickly at sound of the shout. The boat ranged near, and Richard, with a gasp of astonishment, beheld Red Hand and Lucy. “My lord!” he cried, “what means this?” and he took the insensible form of Lucy from the arms of the earl, and clasped her to his bosom. Mum- ford assisted the earl into the boat, who was now so benumbed as to be almost helpless. The sailor quickly produced from his great-coat pocket a bottle of brandy, some of which the earl swallowed eagerly. He revived at once, when the deliverers directed their efforts to Lucy’s resuscitation. After a half hour of anxious suspense, she showed signs of re- turning consciousness. To the reviving influence of the brandy, Was added the magic of a beloved voice, calling her ima lover’s pleading accents back to life. When she opened her eyes and saw upon whose bosom she reposed, and whose arms encircled her 92 THE LOYALIST. form, a smile lit up her pale features, and a faint blush returned to her white cheek. ‘* Am I in heaven,” she said, “and did you reach that blessed abode before me ?” ** Neither, my darling. We are both yet inhabit- ants of this beautiful but sinful world, and have both escaped a terrible death.” The earl, who had now so far recovered as to be able*to sit up, explained the circumstances of their vase, when Richard in turn revealed the facts of his escape. Sussex grasped the arm of Mumford, add- ing: “I am most proud to know you.” That was John Mumford’s moment of happiness. They were now. in sight of ‘“Scarphoot.” At the old moorings of his own little smack he saw, riding at anchor, the yacht presented by the earl to his friend Edward. Not deeming it safe to approach too near the shore, Richard signaled to Edward, as he had done in days of yore, for him to come out with his vessel. This signal was quickly seen by the watchful fellow, and the yacht soon received on board the most happy voyageurs. Edward was quickly in possession of the story of all, and had’ the heartfelt. satisfaction of placing his services at the earl’s disposal. Ere long, the yacht’s sails filled away in quest of the Avenger. The yacht was a rapid sailer, but it had to cruise round several days unsuccessfully in search of the ship. At length, upon the fourth morning, just at dawn, she hove in sight. A mutual recognition took place, and they made for each other as rapidly as possible. The king and Bertrand stood upon the = Jpn LA HAGUE. ; Jee deck, with each a glass, gazing at their old enemy as she rapidly approached, with their three missing friends standing upon the deck. Cheer upon cheer— shout upon shout—went up from the Avenger’s deck, and when the two vessels met, and the reunited friends were clasped in their arms, tears of joy rained down their cheeks; all felt repaid for their’suffer- ings. Sussex had told Richard of the generous de- termination of Bertrand to seek him, and it was with warthest greetings that the two young men again met. Richard presented his friend Mumford to the king. He knelt at the feet of Charles and was given his sovereign’s heartfelt congratulations. Sussex gave him a place on board of the Avenger, until there was some other opening with which to reward him. He soon proved to be a most valuable auxil- iary to the ship’s crew. They now sailed for “La Hague,” and entering the harbor of Cherbourg, the earl prepared at once for a visit on shore. Arranging for the comfort of the king and his friends, Sussex started with Lucy for the residence of his daughter. Lucy was struck with surprise at beholding the affection manifested between father and daughter. Carrie, as the earl’s child was named, fell upon her father’s neck, kissed him again and again, patted his face, smoothed his hair, and then nestled in his bosom. She was too overjoyed even for speech, and it was some minutes ere the parent broke the thrill- ing silence to introduce his friends. Lucy to her arms and loved her at once. = Remaining with the girls for a short time, and ee SST ES pacer RC RET TER 94 THE LOYALIST. seeing that they were supplied with every thing which could conduce to their comfort and enjoyment, he returned to the ship, and then prepared to land Charles and his suite. Great numbers of the Royal- ists who had escaped from England were gathered at the port, and hailed with great joy the advent of their sovereign. His arrival on shore was the occa- sion of many affecting scenes. Tears of joy and gratitude coursed down his cheeks, as he listened to their expressions of loyalty, and their determination to. stand by him in prosperity and adversity, honor or dishonor, life or death. THE RESTORATION. CHAPTER X THE MONARCH AT HOME. ’ : When the people concluded to recall Charles II to the throne, they assumed that he would take warning by his father’s fate ; buteven had he been distrusted, the dangers which threatened the country were such, that in order to avert them, some compromise might well be made, some risk run. Any thing was prefer- able to a succession of incapable rulers or a factious Parliament incapable of rule. With Cromwell’s death passed away the people’s confidence in the new state, and the result of the elections succeeding, was such as might hayve-been expected from the temper of the nation. The House of Commons con- sisted at that time, with but few exceptions, of persons friendly to the royal family. But the mili- tary were in agloomy andasavage mood. They hated the name of king, and they detested the name of Stuart. They saw that the close of their long rule was approaching, and a life of inglorious toil before them. They attributed all their ill-fortune to the weakness of their leaders and the treachery of some of their partisans. Discontented, and left without a chief, they were still to be dreaded. It was no light thing to face an army of fifty thousand fighting men whose backs had never been turned upon the foe. 96 _ THE LOYALIST. Every means, therefore, was employed by the friends of Charles to soothe and divide the discon- tented warriors. At the same time preparations were made for a conflict. Wealthy Royalists grudged nothing to a red-coat, and were so liberal with their best wine, that the warlike saints were often in a con- dition not very honorable either to their religious or mil- itary character. By-ethe Provincial Government the militia were organized. Trained bands were held in readiness to march. Citizens were armed and accou- tered and passed in review. The navy was heartily with the nation, and it was hoped that England would at last be delivered, though not without a bloody struggle; but happily the danger of a strug- glé was averted. Those opposed to the restoration found themselves too much in the minority to venture. But there was one moment of extreme peril. Lam- bert, one of the most determined of the anti-Royal- ists, escaped from prison, called his old comrades to arms, and headed the insurgents, and the flame of civil war was again enkindled; by the greatest exer- tion it was trodden out before it had time to spread ; and the luckless imitator of Cromwell was again in confinement. This so dampened ,the spirits of the soldiers that they sullenly resigned themselves to their fate. The banished and outlawed lords re- turned to their homes, and again entered the halls of Parliament, from which they had been driven ten years before. Charles I] was invited to return to his country, and was proclaimed, with a pomp never before witnessed. The magnificent war-vessel of Sussex, draped with flags, conveyed him and his — a __ THE ROYAL PROGRESS. 97 suite from Germany to the shores of Kent, with a gallant fleet in attendance. When he landed, the cliffs of Dover were covered by thousands of spectators, crazed with delight. His journey to London was one continued scene of triumph. Flags were flying, bells and music sounding 9? wine and ale flowing to the health of their beloved’and long-banished sover- eign, whose return brought peace, law, and freedom. But amid all this joy there lowered one spot, dark and threatening. The army was drawn up to wel- come their sovereign. He bowed, smiled, and ex- tended his hand; but all his courtesy was in vain. The countenances of the soldiers were dark and threatening, and, had they dared to give way to their feelings, this bright and happy pageant would have closed in blood. Discord and defection had left them no faith in their leaders. The whole of London was under arms. Companies of militia were assem- bled from various parts of the realm, under the com- mand of loyal noblemen, to welcome that king whose fortunes they had followed through those dark and troublous. times, when his father was executed upon the block, and his son made a homeless wander- er, fleeing for his life from his own rightful kingdom. The glorious day closed in peace, and the restored monarch safely reposed in the palace of his ancestors. Charles II, as we have said, learned in his adver- sity to fathom the-depths of the human mind, and learned to despise human nature, we are told. It is creditable to his temper that, ill as he thought of his species, still he was not a misanthrope. He was so far humane that it was highly disagreeable to him to 98 THE LOYALIST. ~ witness suffering or listen to complaint. He always tried to relieve the one, and redress the other. The facility of Charles was such as has not since been found in a man of equal sense. He was a slave without being a dupe. Worthless persons, to the very bottom of whose hearts he saw, and whom he knew to be unworthy his confidence, could wheedle him out of places, titles, domains, state secrets, and pardons. He’ bestowed much, but never acquired the fame of beneficence. He never gave spontane-: ously, but it grieved him to refuse. We say he never gave spontaneously; this must be qualified; his friends in adversity, he never forgot. Charles, not- withstanding all his foibles, possessed a grateful heart, and nothing was too great or too good to lavish upon those SRO had served him in his banish- ment. ‘To Richard Graham he presented the earl- dom of Essex, snail vacant, with all its immense ; estates, and the power to bequeath it to his posterity. To Richard’s mother, £5,000 a year, during her life, and £10,000 to Edward Gregory. When the king was firmly seated upon his ditine, quiet restored, and law reigned once more, a court, the gayest and most voluptuous ever held by mon- arch, was instated. The Earl of Sussex sent Ber- trand, as Lord High Admiral, and Richard, Earl of Essex, on board his own splendid war-ship, the Aven- ger, commanded by Captain John Mumford, for his daughter and Lucy Branden, and installed them joint mistresses in his own magnificent palace in Lon- don. To say they were the brightest stars at Charles’ court, would convey but a slight idea of their cal THF PROMISE REDEEMED. 99 peerless charms. Richard, the young Earl of Essex, shone conspicuous among the nobles. His fine coun- tenance beamed with true nobility of soul; at his approach, fair cheeks flushed, bright eyes flashed, and hearts fluttered. Affable and courteous to all, his glance ever sought the one sweet image of his heart’s shrine—Lucy, of Scarphoot. It was an evening such as England only can boast. The Venetian windows were thrown open to admit the air. The lamps burned softly in the drawing- room of the Earl of Sussex. A balmy air from the garden swept through the lattice and gently waved the crimson tapestry upon the walls, breathed on the gorgeous pictures, kissed the cold statues, and wan- dered away through the long halls and spacious rooms of the mansion, until it fanned the cheeks of the mistress of beauty—the queen of Richard’s soul —before whom the soft winds found him kneeling. *‘ Dost remember, dear Lucy, when, at the foot of Searphoot rock, I, a poor fisher-lad, dared to raise .my eyes to such as thine? With thy own sweet lips thou bad’st me go, if I pleased, and win a posi- tion equal to thine, to offer thee, and then return and claim this little hand. I went forth, strong in thy sweet promise, to battle with fortune. Success has been mine ; and, through the munificence of my king, I now come to lay the honors which he has so lavishly conferred upon me at thy feet. Wilt thou now re- deem thy promise, and make Richard Graham the happiest man in the realm ?” “JT told you then, dear Richard, that rank and 100 THE LOYALIST. wealth were precarious and fleeting. All which once I claimed is gone, and I am a dependent upon the bounty of my noble and generous Lord of Sussex. Dost thou still claim @ fulfillment of the promise I made, in more prosperous days ?” “ Ask not such a question, treasure of my soul! The thought of seeing this hour has sustained me through numerous difficulties and trials, and given strength to this arm amid scenes of battle and blood.” «Take me, then, dear Richard, and never mayest thou regret the day thou hast conferred such great honor upon my hungry heart—hungry for thy love— eager for thy lightest consideration.” Again it is evening. In the Gothic chapel of King Henry, in the Abbey of Westminster, whose dim aisles were lighted up with perfumed tapers, while the deep tones of the organ went rolling through the lofty arches, mingling with the soft even- ing breeze that waved the banners of many noble dead, who slept beneath the stately marbles around, at the holy altar, kneel two couples. Before them stands the man of God, to unite Richard, Lord Essex, to Lucy Branden; and Bertrand, Lord Admiral, to Carrie, daughter of the Earl of Sussex. The king himself gives the brides away, and as each arose and clasped his wife to his beating heart, they again kneel at the feet of their king, blessing him im their in- most hearts for his munificent kindness. To him they owe every thing—place, position, brides, all! “ And to you I owe my life!” adds the king, brushing away a tear. “The debt can never be can- celed, save in your happiness and prosperous lives.” j BEA DLE’S DIME SONG BOOK, , No. 1s. 7 In this Song Book the song-loving public is furnished with a rich ; treat not often available, embracing the very cream of the choicest songs out and ballads of the day, both new and old. In addition to the usual variety } by the most eminent musical composers, we have been enabled, by exclu- | | sive arrangements with music publishers, to produce, in No. 13, a large / | number of STEPHEN C, FOSTER’S latest melodies, including his last, | written a few days previous to his death. Everybody is familiar with ter’s “Old Folks at Home,’”’ which has now become standard, and } thottsands of his admirers throughout the country will not fail to procure his latest productions, WHICH CAN BE OBTAINED IN NO OTHER BOOK. 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