We must now accompany George Brooke on his way, not, indeed, stopping to trace all his proceedings, but merely stating that the time thrown away in consequence of his meeting with Ida Mara, and the loss of his horse's shoe, was not altogether less than five hours. At the end of that period, however, he once more found himself riding rapidly on towards London, and, as is usual in such cases, cursing the folly which induced him to forget great and important objects in pursuit of petty gratifications.

By six o'clock his horse was quite knocked up; and leaving it at an inn to be sent after him, he procured another, with which, at the end of about four hours more, he approached the metropolis. His thoughts had been in a wild and hurried state, and he had more than once asked himself, "With whom shall I take counsel? If Clarke be come back from Brussels," he continued, in the same train of thought, "he would be the man, but of that I am not sure.--Cobham is such a fool, I cannot trust to him; and Raleigh's coldness in the business has shaken his constancy. It must be with Markham; he is bold and decided, though a slippery knave, I fear.--We can go on to Cobham House afterwards. Ho boy!" he continued, speaking to the post-boy who rode with him to take back the horse, "which is the shortest cut to the village of Chelsea?"

"Down to the right, sir," replied the man; "the first turning, and then the second to the left."

George Brooke accordingly rode on, and in a few minutes caught a glimpse of the Thames, shining in the rising moon.

"Ay, now I know my way," he said, and rode straight on to the gates of an old brick house, with a garden and orchard, looking towards the river on one side, and on the other towards the road.

Ringing the great bell at the door, with his usual impetuous haste, George Brooke speedily brought a porter to answer his summons, and asked eagerly if Sir Griffin Markham were within.

"He is somewhat sick," replied the man, "and cannot see any one."

"Nay, were he sick to the death, I must see him," cried George Brooke; "methinks, however, Master Porter, that there is somewhat loud talking in the place for a sick man's house. Go, tell Sir Griffin that Master George Brooke wishes to see him, and must too, immediately."

"Oh, sir, if you be Master Brooke, you may come in," said the man; and the young gentleman sprang to the ground, giving the horse to the post-boy, and bidding him wait. Then following the porter across an old stone hall, he was admitted to a room on the other side, which he found occupied by some twelve or fourteen persons, bearing the appearance of gentlemen. A large table was in the midst, round which some were sitting, and some were standing, while one or two were looking out of the windows upon the silver Thames, as it glided along in the moonlight, calm and tranquil, the image of a bright and a peaceful life, offering a strange contrast to all the scenes of contention and turbulence that daily take place on its banks. Seated close together, so that they could whisper to each other from time to time, were two Romish priests, named Watson and Clarke; and at the head of the table, not far from them, with his cheek resting on his hand, was the master of the house, whom the reader, if he could have seen him, would instantly have recognised as no other than the Baron de Mardyke. The moment the name of George Brooke was announced by the porter, Father Clarke started up, and advancing towards him, took his hand, whispering rapidly at the same time, "Not a word of our plans, till you hear what is going on."

"Let it go off then as quickly as possible," answered George Brooke, in the same tone, "for I have intelligence of deep importance, affecting our lives."

Thus saying, he advanced into the room, shaking hands with one or two persons whom he knew, and being welcomed by Sir Griffin Markham with great cordiality.

"We are here, my dear Brooke," said Sir Griffin, aloud, after a significant nod from the priest, "to discuss a petition to be presented to the King for toleration in our religion, and equal privileges with our fellow-subjects. We have just determined to set forth our claims in the strongest possible language, to represent the injustice that we have suffered, and to point out that, at least, two millions of Englishmen are deprived of religious liberty, and straitened in their conscience. Now, I know, that although your family have unhappily given in to what we consider heresy, yet you are ready and willing to join in obtaining for us that toleration which you would fight for in your own case were it needful; and we shall be glad of the signature of any Protestant gentlemen, who regard liberty of conscience as the right of all men."

George Brooke was too shrewd not to smile at the assurance with which zealous Roman Catholics, notwithstanding their utter intolerance of every religion but their own, can assert the great principle of that liberty of conscience which they deny to others, when they themselves may benefit by it; but as he was very indifferent to religion of any kind, he was quite ready to support the views of Sir Griffin Markham, as he would have supported those of a puritan, for any object he had in view.

"I perfectly agree with you, my good friend," he replied, "as to religious toleration, and am quite ready to sign the paper, though, remember, I am not quite so heretically disposed as you imagine, and am quite ready to receive instruction in the Catholic faith on the first convenient opportunity."

An exclamation of satisfaction broke from several of the gentlemen around; and George Brooke, eager to have the business over as soon as possible, took a pen and dipped it in the ink, saying, "Where shall I sign?"

But one or two of the more bigoted of the party exclaimed, "Stay, stay, there are some changes to be made;" and then a discussion commenced regarding several paragraphs in the petition, some wishing them stronger and more violent, others more moderate and mild.

George Brooke sat upon thorns; minute after minute passed by in vain and often frivolous disquisitions, while he knew that the avenging sword was suspended over his head but by a hair. The two priests endeavoured to cut short the dispute, but without success. What was too strong for one party, was too weak for the other; and at length Lord Cobham's brother whispered to the master of the house, "On my life, Markham, if you do not put a stop to this, I must ride on to town. The petition is all nonsense, and can never be presented; and I have life and death under my doublet."

"I know it can never be presented," said the shrewd knight, in the same low tone; "but it has been agreed to get the petition drawn up, and signed by everybody that we can, throughout the realm, as a sort of muster-roll, that we may know those whom we can call upon in case of need. That is why it is necessary to make it as violent as possible: but what do you mean by having life and death under your doublet?"

"I mean," replied George Brooke, still in a whisper, "that your head and mine, and some dozen others, may depend upon my speaking to you, without all your Popish rabble, ere five minutes be over. I do not mind the two priests, they are men of sense, and had better hear what I have to say; but our safety depends upon your getting rid of these long-tongued gentry as fast as possible."

Markham mused for a minute or two, and then rose, saying, "Gentlemen, as there seems a good deal of difference of opinion to-night, and as Father Watson here has heard all your views, I should propose that he make a fresh draught of the petition, and have it ready against to-morrow night at nine. I dare say he can embody all your ideas; and, for my part, whatsoever so reverend and devout a priest thinks fit for the occasion, I am ready to sign."

"So am I," cried one; "and so are we all, I dare say; but--" and, as usual on such occasions, there were half-a-dozen "buts" to be spoken and commented upon, before it was finally settled that Sir Griffin Markham's proposal should be agreed to, and the company had left the house.

At length, however, the room was cleared, the door closed, and with looks in which the full anxiety of their hearts was for the first time fully displayed, the knight and the two priests surrounded George Brooke, and eagerly inquired what was the intelligence he had to communicate. In reply, he informed them that his brother, Lord Cobham, had ventured to write to the Lady Arabella Stuart, giving her intimation of the plans formed for raising her to the throne, and requiring her consent to the conditions proposed by Count Aremberg. He told them also, that as soon as he had heard of this rash step, he had set off post haste to see the lady himself, and to ascertain her feelings, in order to act immediately as the circumstances might require. He then gave an account of the reception he had met with, and ended by saying, "Now, gentlemen, you know the whole affair; what is your judgment regarding it?"

"That we are ruined," replied Clarke.

"That she will communicate the whole to the King," said Sir Griffin Markham; "she did so before regarding some overtures I made to her while James was on his way to Scotland. Luckily, she neither knew me nor Watson, who was with me; and I took the name of the Baron de Mardyke, which put them upon the wrong scent, for Mardyke, who was over just at the time, quitted England for Nieuport the day after I saw her. Slingsby and Winter, who were sent to watch her messenger, were caught; but Slingsby was hanged for endeavouring to filch the letter, and died silent, knowing that it would do him no good, but rather harm, to confess his object. Winter, as you all know, was thrown into prison as a Catholic priest, but no other charge was made against him. I fear this is a worse affair."

"Well--now, having heard your opinions," said George Brooke, "I will tell you mine. It is that this sweet lady sent Cobham's letter to the King as soon as ever she received it, some of James's people were with her when even I was there, doubtless sent over to inquire farther. We shall hear more of it ere long; and the only question is, have we any chance of success by going forward, striking a bold stroke at once, hurrying down with what men we can raise, this very night, to Wilton, seizing James's person, Cecil's, Pembroke's, the Howards', and conveying them all prisoners to the Tower? If you judge so, I am ready to draw the sword and throw away the scabbard. I am even willing to put all the Scotch vermin to death, if need should be.--It is timidity alone that ruins great enterprises. If not, the sooner we begin our travels the better, for we shall be much improved by a continental tour."

"I am for flight," cried Watson; "if the matter have gone as far as you think, depend upon it all precautions are already taken at the Court."

"So say I!" exclaimed Clarke; "the case is hopeless."

"I do not know," said Sir Griffin Markham, thoughtfully; and laying his finger on his forehead, he paused for a moment or two in consideration. Ere his reflections came to an end, however, there was a gentle ring at the great bell, and all the conspirators started and looked towards the door. The next instant there was a sound of scuffling, and voices speaking in the hall. George Brooke threw up the window, and jumped out into the garden upon the banks of the Thames; but he had not taken two steps when his collar was seized on either side, and he was thrown down upon the turf.

"In the King's name!" said a loud voice; and without making the slightest resistance, he was led back into the house.

He there found the two priests and Sir Griffin Markham in the hands of the officers, with terror and dismay in the countenances of all. Brooke, however, had by this time recovered from his first consternation and surprise, and turning to one of the men who held him, he said, "May I request, sir, if not inconvenient to you, that you would take your hand from my collar? It is, as you will remark, a Spanish cut, delicately laced, ingenious collar,--most likely to suffer from rough fingers. I would not for the world put you to any inconvenience, but still it would be more convenient to me to have my throat at my own command."

"May it long be so, sir," said the man, bluffly, taking off his hand: "I have some doubts of its being so, though."

"I am sorry to hear that," replied George Brooke; "it is a part of my property which, being the great channel of communication between the custom-house and the receiver-general, I shall be sorry to see stopped or cut off."

"Ha, ha, ha!" exclaimed the sergeant, who had some turn for the dry and far-fetched jests of the day; "I suppose you mean your stomach and your mouth--God send that they may not have a long separation. However, I must do my duty, and carry you to London. We must tie your hands, gentlemen,--there's no help for it."

"Nay," said George Brooke; "what there's no help for, must be submitted to.--Did you ever see a pig killed on a scouring table?"

"No, sir," answered the man.

"I am sorry for it," said George Brooke; "it is an instructive sight. This fat gentleman submits with all patience, because, as you say, there is no help for it; but he has his squeak, notwithstanding. Nevertheless, you will let us have a cup of wine before we go. On my faith, I am both hungry and thirsty; and if you look at the countenances of those three fair gentlemen opposite, you will see that they are somewhat incommoded at the stomach."

"Come, come, I can't stay," replied the officer. "You may have some wine when you get to the Tower."

"Oh, the Tower!" said George Brooke: "we are to be taken there first, are we?"

"No, sir--first to Cobham House," answered their captor.

"Cobham House?" exclaimed George Brooke, with an affectation of surprise. "What, is poor Cobham in the scrape too? I have sins enough to answer for, so that my only puzzle is, which I am arrested for. But Cobham, poor fellow, is as innocent as a sucking dove."

"I have a warrant against him for high treason, however," replied the officer; "and I thought to find him here. But we have been deceived, it seems."

"Heaven send you the like good fortune for the future!" replied Brooke; "but if I must ride, the sooner the better, and if you could spare me the gay bracelets you talk of, I would give you my word of honour neither to make use of my own two legs, nor the horse's four in anything less seemly than a slow and quiet procession to the Tower."

"No, no, Master Lightheart, I can't trust you," replied the officer; "come, go to business, my masters!" and, in about five minutes more, Brooke and his companions were mounted, and on their way to London, guarded by a strong party of officers and soldiers.

The streets of the great city were dull and desolate; for the plague was raging sadly in the English capital, and not a soul ventured beyond the threshold of his own door, unless driven to do so by urgent business. Passing along one of the once thronged thoroughfares, they at length reached Cobham House; and, pausing at a little distance from the door, the officer in command dismounted, with two or three of his men, and, approaching with a quiet step, rang the bell. A burly porter instantly appeared; and two other servants were seen slumbering on either side of the empty fire-place. Everything betokened feelings of security; but when the porter saw by the dresses of those without, the nature of their calling and object, he would fain have banged the door to, in the chief officer's face.

Experience, however, had taught the latter to provide against all such contingencies; and the moment that the large mass of wood rolled back, he had put his foot against it, so as to frustrate the porter's efforts at once.

"Here, Harrington," he said, "keep these good fellows under arrest, while I and the others go up to speak to my Lord Cobham."

His orders were obeyed immediately; and several of his followers entered and took possession of the hall, forbidding any one to stir on pain of death. The chief officer and three others in the meantime advanced straight up stairs to the small room where we have seen a conference held between Lord Cobham and Count Aremberg. The chamber was vacant, however, and walking on to a door that was ajar on the opposite side, the officers passed through an ante-room to another door, which they opened unceremoniously. There they found the nobleman they sought, sitting quietly reading in a dressing-gown.

"Good evening, my Lord," said the chief officer; "I am afraid you must come with us. I have a warrant to convey you to the Tower."

Cobham started up with a face as pale as death. "This is Raleigh's doing!" he cried: "the villain--the traitor--this is all Raleigh's doing! I thought he would betray me--out upon the false-hearted knave!'

"Well, my Lord," replied the man; "you and he must settle that together. He's by this time safe enough; and now you had better put on your coat, for we have no time to spare."

Cobham obeyed slowly, pausing every minute to pour forth invectives upon Raleigh, and to give way to all the wild and incoherent exclamations that rage and despair could suggest. At the end of about a quarter of an hour, however, he was conveyed into the street, and, being taken down to the bank of the river, was placed in a boat with the other prisoners, and borne rapidly onward to the dark and fatal Tower of London. Cobham would fain have spoken with his brother; and George Brooke tried more than once to give the peer a hint for his guidance; but silence was imposed upon them by the guard, and they were placed as far from each other as possible, till at length the barge was rowed slowly towards the landing-place.