Roger Kyffin's Ward. Kingston William Henry Giles
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By the time Harry was eighteen Mabel had become a lovely and an amiable girl. No wonder that being much in her society he should have loved her. Lady Tryon, who had always indulged him, was not long in discovering the state of his affections, and instead or attempting to check him, she encouraged him in his wish to obtain the hand of Mabel Everard.
Colonel Everard, like many old soldiers, was an early riser. He usually, in the summer, took a walk before breakfast through the grounds. His figure was tall and commanding. Although considerably more than seventy, he still walked with an upright carriage and soldier-like air. He carried a stick in his hand, but often placed it under his arm, as he was wont in his youth to carry his sword. The front part of his head was bald, and his silvery locks were secured behind in a queue, neatly tied with black ribbon. His features were remarkably fine, and age had failed to dim the brightness of his blue eye. His invariable morning costume was an undress military coat, which had seen some service, while no one could look at him without seeing that he was a man accustomed to courts as well as camps. One morning he was stopping to look at a flower-bed lately laid out by his daughter Lucy, when he heard footsteps approaching him. A turn of the walk concealed him from the house.
“Well, Paul, what is it?” he asked, looking up.
“I have something to communicate, Colonel.”
The speaker was a tall thin man, with a mark of a sword-cut on one of his well-bronzed and weather-beaten cheeks, which had not added to his beauty. There was, notwithstanding this, an honest, pleasant expression in his countenance which was sure to command confidence. His air was that of an old soldier; indeed, as he spoke, his hand went mechanically up to his hat, while as he halted, he drew himself as upright as one of the neighbouring fir-trees. Paul Gauntlett, the Colonel’s faithful follower and body servant, had left Lynderton with him upwards of fifty years before, and had been by his side in every battle in which he had been engaged.
“There’s mischief brewing, and if it is not put a stop to, harm will come of it,” he continued.
“What do you mean?” asked the Colonel.
“Just this, sir. I was lying down close to the lake to draw in a night line I set last night, when who should come by but young Master Harry Tryon with his fishing-rod in his hand, and his basket by his side. I was just going to get up and speak to him, for he did not see me, when I saw another person, who was no other than that young foreigner, the Baron de Ruvigny, as he calls himself. Master Harry asked him what he was doing, and he said that it was no business of his, as far as I could make out. Then Master Harry got very angry, and told him that he should not come to the park at all, and the other said that he was insulted. Then Master Harry asked him what business he had to write letters to young ladies, and the end of it was that they agreed to go into the town and get swords or pistols and settle the matter that way. If they fix on pistols it may be all very well; but if they fight with swords, Master Harry’s no hand with one, and the young Frenchman will pink him directly they cross blades.”
“I am glad you told me of this,” observed the Colonel. “It must be put a stop to, or the hot-headed lads will be doing each other a mischief. Who could the Frenchman have been writing to? Not my daughter or niece I hope. It will not do to have their names mixed up in a brawl.”
“I think we could manage it at once, sir; they have not yet left the grounds. They spoke as if they did not intend to fight till the evening, as each of them would have to look out for his seconds. When they parted, Master Harry walked on along the side of the lake and began to fish, looking as cool as a cucumber, while the young Frenchman went back into the summer-house, where he had been sitting when Master Harry found him, and went on writing away on a sheet of paper, he had spread on his hat. Now, sir, if you go down the walk you are pretty sure to find him there still, and I have no doubt that I shall be able to fall in with Master Harry, and I can tell him you want to see him at breakfast, and that he must come, and make no excuse.”
Great was Harry’s surprise to find the young Frenchman in the breakfast-room, where the Colonel and the rest of the party were already assembled. He was, as usual, cordially welcomed, and the butler shortly afterwards announced that the fish he had caught would be speedily ready.
“We are very glad you have come, Harry,” said Madam Everard, “you can help us in arranging an important matter. The Colonel has just heard that his Majesty intends honouring us with a visit in the course of a day or two. The King sends word that he shall ride over from Lyndhurst, and that we are to make no preparations for his reception; but he is always pleased when there is some little surprise and above all things he likes to see his subjects making themselves happy.”
“The Baron de Ruvigny says he is certain that Colonel Lejoille will lend the band of the regiment, and we must have the militia and volunteer bands. Will it not be delightful?” exclaimed Mabel.
“We must have two large tents put up on one side of the lawn, so as not to shut out the view from the windows.”
“There must be one for dancing,” said Lucy, who was especially fond of dancing. “There will be no want of partners, as there used to be before the foreign officers came here. How very kind of the King to say he will come.”
“Do you think that Cochut will have time to prepare a breakfast?” asked the Colonel, looking at his sister. “We must send for him at once to receive his orders. Baron, we must leave the bands of the regiments to you. Harry, you must arrange with Mr Savage, the sail-maker, for the tents.”
“Now, recollect you two young men are to devote all your time and energies to these objects,” said Madam Everard, looking at them with a meaning glance.
“I must see you both in my study before you leave,” said the Colonel, “and now, lads, go to breakfast.”
The two young men looked at each other, and possibly suspected that the Colonel might, by some wonderful means, have heard of their quarrel.
Chapter Six.
Royal Visitors. – The King and the Mace-Bearer. – The Foes reconciled
The news of the good King’s intended visit to Stanmore Park was soon spread abroad. The mayor and burgesses of Lynderton resolved that they would request his Majesty to honour their borough by stopping on his way at their town-hall. The whole place was speedily in a state of the most intense commotion. While the Colonel and his womankind were making all the necessary preparations at the park, the lieges of Lynderton were engaged in the erection of triumphal arches, with a collection of banners of all sorts of devices, painting signboards and shop-fronts, and the polishing up of military accoutrements.
Lynderton was got into order for the reception of royalty even before Stanmore Park had been prepared. One chief reason was that there were many