Three or four days had elapsed, and the party in whose fate we have interested ourselves had reached the town of Nottingham in safety; but gloom and despondency hung over the court of the king, over the small force at his command, and over the whole city. Proclamation had been made for all loyal subjects to join the monarch in Nottingham; and it had been announced on that day, the 25th of August, 1642, that Charles would set up his royal standard against his rebellious parliament. Few persons, however, joined him; not a single regiment of foot had been raised; the body of horse which he had led to Coventry had been little increased since he had retreated from that city; the artillery and ammunition from York had not yet arrived; and sadness was upon every brow, and apprehension in every heart. The evening was dark and gloomy, the wind rising in sharp and howling gusts; large drops of rain were borne upon the blast, and everything promised a night of tempest, when the king, accompanied by all the noblemen and gentlemen who had joined him, set out on horseback for the hill on which stands the old castle of Nottingham, with the knight-marshal before him bearing the royal standard, and a small body of the train-bands accompanying it as a guard. On reaching the spot destined for the ceremony, the standard-pole was fixed with great difficulty, amidst the roll of the drum and the loud blasts of the trumpet. But neither the war-stirring sound of the drum nor the inspiring voice of the trumpet could cheer the hearts of those around, or give them confidence even in the success of a good cause; and, with the same sadness with which they had gone thither, the royal party returned from the castle hill just as the evening was growing grey with night. Some four or five hours after, Lord Walton, who had participated fully in the gloomy feelings which pervaded the whole court, rose from the supper-table at which he had been seated with his sister, the Earl of Beverley, and one or two friends who had joined them in Nottingham; and said-- "My head aches, dearest Annie; I will walk up to the castle hill and take a look at the standard. The air will do me good." "I will go with you, Charles," said Miss Walton, rising. "I will not keep you a minute." "Nay, not in such a night as this, Annie," answered her brother. "Do you not hear how the wind blows, as if it would force in those rattling casements?" "Oh, I mind not the wind," replied Annie Walton: "you shall lend me your arm, Charles; it will always be strong enough to steady your sister's steps." "God grant it, dear one!" replied Lord Walton. "Well, come! I do wish to talk with you, Annie, upon many things;" and in a few minutes they were in the streets of Nottingham.