The small town of Beverley was as full as it could hold. It does not, indeed, seem at any time well calculated to hold a great many; but it is wonderful how elastic towns and even houses are when the inhabitants have a good mind to make room for others. It was, or seemed to be, as full as it could hold, however, as I have said, when about noon a body of some three hundred horse, followed at the distance of a quarter of a mile by a mixed troop of gentlemen and ladies, with a small party escorting some thirty-five or forty prisoners and two or three wagons, entered the place and marched up the principal street. A number of gay Cavaliers were lounging about at the doors of inns and private houses; some companies of train-bands were seen in the more open spaces, and guards appeared at the doors of the town-house, from the windows of which several heads were leaning forth, gazing listlessly upon the scene below. All was gay and pleasant confusion; for the party of the parliament took care to keep out of sight, and the royalists, exulting in the arrival of the king, were doing their best to show a hearty welcome to his court. Though somewhat less than two thousand cavalry, and a small infantry force, consisting entirely of train-bands, with half-a-dozen light pieces of artillery, certainly did not show much like an army, yet hope and excitement magnified the numbers; and the good townsmen of Beverley, as they reckoned up, with the exaggerating powers of imagination, more noblemen than they had ever seen in the parish before, and calculated the troop which each could bring into the field if he were willing, never doubted that, if the king had been so pleased, he might have brought a much larger host to the siege of Hull, and believed that many more would actually follow.

In this supposition, indeed, they were encouraged by a number of houses being already marked out as quarters for different persons who had not yet appeared. Amongst the rest, a handsome brick building, in a garden, on the side of Hull, had been assigned to the expected party of Lord Walton; and as soon as the head of the troop I have mentioned appeared, a man who had been waiting by the side of a saddled horse, at the door of the town-house, sprang into the saddle, and riding up to the commanding officer--our old friend Major Randal--informed him of the direction he was to take.

This old officer halted his men to let the party behind come up, and two or three gentlemen on foot advanced and spoke with him for a moment or two, while such exclamations as--"Indeed burned to the ground do you say?" "What! Langley Hall burned down? I saw a light over that way as I was marching. About nine, was it not?"--were heard as they conversed.

"Pooh!" cried Randal, as one of the gentlemen, for want of other amusement, asked him to describe all that had taken place; "I am not good at telling stories, my lord. Ask Barecolt there; he has always one ready, and if not, he will make one. But here come Lord Walton and the Earl of Beverley, with the ladies from the Hall, and we must go on. March!"

The troop followed, and on the whole party went to the quarters which had been provided for them; the soldiery billeted in certain ale-houses and cottages in the vicinity, and the higher personages in the house which has been mentioned.

The bustle of arrival was soon over; all orders were given, all arrangements made; and the ladies and gentlemen in whom we are most interested were assembled in the hall of the house--a large and handsome room, lined with dark carved oak, and possessing four windows, which looked out into a garden, well arranged according to the taste of that day, and surrounded by high walls.

In the march from Langley Hall, as may be supposed, much had been told to Lord Walton, but it had been confined to the events that had taken place since his departure from York, and there was another subject upon which he was anxious for information. As he stood talking with Lady Margaret, while the Earl of Beverley and Miss Walton gazed forth from one of the windows, the young nobleman's eye fixed upon Arrah Neil, who, seated in a choir at some distance, her look full of deep but tranquil thought, was caressing the large dog, which, from her very first arrival at Langley Hall, had shown so strange a partiality for her.

"Tell me, my dear aunt," said Lord Walton, interrupting what the good lady was saying in respect to a proposed visit to the king; "tell me what is all this about that sweet girl. Annie says she has a strange tale to relate, and Captain Barecolt has already roused my curiosity. Has anything more been heard since I went to York?"

"Nothing, Charles; nothing," replied Lady Margaret. "A strange tale, did Annie say? I have heard nothing of it, and yet I cannot cast from my mind the belief, that if that poor dog could speak he would tell us as strange a tale as one could wish to hear. Oh! those dumb witnesses of all the many acts done, as we think, in secresy and solitude--if they had but a voice, what dark and fearful things would be trumpeted to the ear! 'Tis as well that they have not. But let us go and ask her;" and, walking up to Arrah, who looked up at her approach, she laid her hand kindly on her shoulder, saying, "Annie has told Charles, dear child, that you have something strange to relate to him. You had better speak soon, my Arrah, for no one can count upon these soldiers for a minute. They go hither and thither like the winds and clouds."

The blood mounted slightly into the cheek of Arrah Neil, and she said, after a slight hesitation, "I must tell him alone, dear Lady Margaret. I would fain tell you too, because I know you would advise and help me well; but they made me promise that I would only tell him and Annie."

"Nay, my child, I seek not to know," replied Lady Margaret; "I have had too many sad secrets in my life, and desire no more. And yet, Arrah, and yet," she added, "there might be a tale for you to tell; but it is a dream--wild, idle dream: no more of it! Go with him into the gardens, my child, and tell him what you have to say."

Arrah Neil rose timidly, and raised her eyes to Lord Walton's face as he stood beside his aunt; but, grave and somewhat stern, as he sometimes seemed to others, to her he was always gentleness itself, and taking her hand he drew her harm through his and led her towards the gardens.

Lady Margaret seated herself where Arrah had been sitting, and, bending down her head over the dog, continued talking to him in a low murmuring voice for some minutes. Annie Walton and the Earl of Beverley remained conversing in the window, and their eyes soon rested upon Lord Walton and Arrah Neil, as they walked up and down one of the broad gravel-walks. The face of the young nobleman was grave and attentive; but from time to time he raised his look to his fair companion's countenance, and seemed to ask some questions, Arrah Neil's gaze was most frequently bent upon the ground, but nevertheless at different periods of their conference she glanced for a single instant eagerly at the face of Charles Walton, as if seeking to discover what impression her story made upon him, and then with downcast eyes again went on with her tale.

Annie Walton felt for her; for there was something is her heart that made her sure the telling of that tale to the ear that heard it would be matter of no light emotion to poor Arrah Neil. She would have given worlds to see her brother smile, to know that he spoke gentle words and kind encouragement; but he turned up and down the walk, again and again, with the same thoughtful air, the same high and lofty bearing--not proud, not harsh, but grave and calm. And yet it was better as it was, for Arrah Neil knew him well and loved him dearly as he was; and any deviation from his natural character, any softer, any more tender movement, might have agitated her and rendered her incapable of going on with tranquil clearness. At length, however, when it seemed all at an end--the story told as far as she could tell it--the whole truth known as far as she knew it herself--Lord Walton suddenly paused, and casting his arms suddenly round her who had been the object of his house's bounty, pressed a warm kiss upon her glowing cheek. Then taking her hand in his, he drew it within his arm again and led her back towards the house, her face crimson and her limbs trembling with deep emotion.

The Earl of Beverley turned to Annie Walton with a smile.

"God's blessing on them," he said, "and on all hearts that love!"

Miss Walton started. "You do not understand it, Francis," she replied.

"Yes, dear one, I do," said her lover; "I have long seen it. I know Charles Walton well, and the share that generous enthusiasm and calm reasoning prudence have in his nature. He has loved rashly, and checked his love. Some great obstacle is gone, and love has now the sceptre. He is not a man to debase that which he loves, or I should have feared for poor Arrah Neil; but he is not one either to sacrifice what he thinks right, even to his heart's dearest affections; and therefore, dear Annie, I have grieved for him. But, my beloved," he added, speaking even lower than before, "between us there is no such barrier as has always existed between them. A period of repose must soon come, and then, surely----"

Annie Walton cast down her eyes and the colour mounted in her cheek; but ere the earl's sentence was concluded Lord Walton and his fair companion re-entered the hall, and she turned towards them without reply. Her lover gently detained her, however, gazing into her face half-reproachfully; and she murmured in a low tone--

"I am always ready to fulfil my promises."

"Thanks, dear one! thanks!" answered the earl; and turning to Lady Margaret, he released her hand, seeing that her brother beckoned her towards him.

"You know all she tells me, Annie," said Charles Walton, as his sister joined him and Arrah at the other side of the room; "but this must be kept secret for the present. We must have the further proofs ere we say aught to any one."

"Even to my aunt?" asked his sister.

"Ay, to her more than all," answered Lord Walton; "but I will soon find means to clear up the whole. This man, O'Donnell, must be seen if possible. But here comes a message from his majesty. I trust we shall soon be in Hull, and then we shall have ample means of obtaining all the information that may be required."

The royal officer, as Lord Walton expected, brought him and the Earl of Beverley a summons to the presence of the king, to whom their arrival in the town had been immediately notified; and, hastening to the house, they found the unhappy monarch surrounded by the nobility, who were crowding to his standard. The scene was very different now from that presented by the court at Nottingham. Hope and expectation were in all faces, and even the melancholy countenance of Charles bore the look of satisfaction it so seldom assumed.

Commissioned by Lady Margaret Langley, the first act of Lord Walton was to present to his sovereign all the plate and jewels which had been brought from Langley Hall--an act which was imitated during the civil war by many of the noble families of the day; for loyalty was then a sentiment amongst a great number of the British nation, and attachment to the throne was not a matter of trade and calculation.

"My aunt commissions me to say, sire," the young nobleman continued, "that did her strength or her sex permit, no one would fight more zealously than herself in defence of your throne; but as she can bring you nought else, she brings you this small offering of good-will, to the value, she esteems it, of about ten thousand pounds, which will at least aid in the maintenance of your troops."

"I accept it as a loan, my lord," replied Charles, "which would be soon repaid if many more of my subjects would show such devoted loyalty. However, as a loan or as a gift it commands my sincere gratitude; and if God should bless my cause, as I trust he will, this is one of the acts that will not be forgotten."

The monarch then turned to other subjects, and with graceful courtesy inquired into the destruction of Langley Hall, and expressed his deep regret that, for attachment to his cause, a lady so far advanced in life as Lady Margaret should have been exposed to such inconvenience, alarm, and danger.

The audience of the two noblemen was long; and to Lord Beverley in particular the king addressed numerous questions, making him repeat over and over again the substance of his conversations with Sir John Hotham, and pondering over his replies, as if seeking to confirm in his own breast the hopes he feared to entertain. At length, however, the monarch put the question plainly to the earl--

"What is your own sincere opinion, my lord? Will Sir John keep his word?"

"If I must speak plainly, sire," replied the earl, "I can but reply that I think he will if he can: nay, I am sure of it. But I have some doubts as to his power of doing so;" and he proceeded to explain that an evident jealousy was entertained of the governor of Hull by the parliament; that his own son was in fact merely a spy upon him in the place where he appeared to command; and that before his (Lord Beverley's) departure he had heard of the arrival of several parliamentary officers, and that others were expected, whose presence in the town might act as a check upon Sir John Hotham, and prevent him from executing that which he intended.

Such a view of the case gave the king subject for further meditation; and at length he repeated twice--

"It were much to be wished that through a confidential person we could find some means of holding communication with the governor."

The Earl of Beverley was silent for a moment or two, for he had been dreaming happy dreams, and felt painfully reluctant to put their accomplishment to hazard by placing himself in peril of what seemed almost more terrible than death--a long and indefinite imprisonment. When the king repeated nearly the same words, however, and he felt that their application was to himself, he bowed with a grave and resolute air, saying--

"If your majesty thinks that my return to Hull can be for your service, I am ready to undertake it."

"It will be greatly for my service, my noble friend," replied Charles, "though it grieves me to place you in a situation of such danger, after all you have suffered in this cause."

"Well, sire," replied the earl with a sigh, "it will be better for me to set out immediately; for, in order to maintain the character I formerly assumed, I must come upon Hull upon the other side, and it is already late. I fear, moreover, my communications with your majesty must be through York, so that a good deal of inevitable delay will take place."

The further arrangements between the king and his loyal subject were soon made; and after spending one more brief hour with her he loved, Lord Beverley was again in the saddle, to execute the perilous commission he had undertaken.

In a brief conversation between himself and Lord Walton, the latter besought him to seek out the person named O'Donnell, and to gain from him every information he might possess regarding the early history of Arrah Neil. A note was added in Lord Walton's own hand, begging the Irish merchant to confide fully in the bearer; and undertaking the commission willingly, the earl rode away towards the banks of the Humber.