Great Britain -- History -- Restoration, 1660-1688 -- Fiction
The coach was my Lady Mary's, easily recognized in our parts for the
newness of its fashion. By its side stood our friend and neighbor,
Sir Giles Blundell, that instant dismounted, and opening the door
that my lady might descend. Behind him were two young gentlemen, one
of whom held Sir Giles's horse by the bridle. My lady, of a pallor
very death-like, and stumbling as she stepped down from the coach so
that she was like to have fallen but for the ready support of his
hands, said a few words to Sir Giles, but all in a voice so low from
weakness of fatigue and the faintness of terror as no word of it to
reach my ears. His answer, however, was given clearly enough. And
as he spoke my father, till now delayed in his descent of the steps
by the lameness of his leg, drew near and stood beside my lady,
leaning upon his stick.
"Indeed, dear madam," said Sir Giles, "I will do no such thing. I
and my friends here are vastly pleased we were in the way to rescue
you from such evil hands; 't was a small service we are proud to have
rendered to so good a friend and neighbor. But to ride further to
Royston Chase on the mere chance of some danger to His Highness of
Orange, that has an army to protect him, is but to mix ourselves with
a game we are well resolved to watch at a safe distance."
"Ah, Giles," says Sir Michael, who had known him from a boy, "your
father had been of one part or the other. What, in God's name, is
coming to England, when Englishmen are found that cannot even take a
side?" Whereupon more words to little purpose ensued, Sir Giles and
the two other gentlemen at length departing as they had come, after
replying with much forbearance to some heated and scornful
animadversions of my father upon the lukewarmness of their conduct.
Gratitude for what these gentlemen had done in her behalf and the
need of recovering her spirits from the great perturbation into which
they had been thrown by the events of the morning kept my lady silent
until their departure was accomplished, when she turned to Sir
Michael with a great beseeching in her countenance, saying: "Surely
you will help me, my old friend." On which he gave her assurance he
would do all he might, but told her he was yet ignorant what was her
trouble and need. And it is great wonder to me that all the time she
was telling and he hearing her story neither did observe me sitting
there on my horse, and but partly hidden from their eyes by the
branches of a tree. But her eagerness was well equalled by his
interest; and there was a great bustling of our hostlers and her two
servants about the coach. For one of the horses had fallen when
brought to a stand, and lay, it seemed, at the point of death, two
more being in a very bad case.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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