For this short distance Mrs Jane rode by herself, the Colonel mounting another horse beside her. Featherstone followed, and a French youth came last, conducting the baggage-horse. Rather more than half the distance to the capital had been traversed, when a large cavalcade was seen approaching. It consisted of a number of gentlemen on horseback, preceding one of the large c.u.mbrous coaches then in common use, in which sat two ladies and a little girl. The coach was drawn by six heavy Flanders mares, which went at so leisurely a pace that they could easily be accompanied by a crowd of French sight-seers who ran before, behind, and all around them.

As soon as the two parties came within sight of each other, one of the gentlemen who preceded the coach rode forward and met the travellers, pulling off his hat as he came up to them. Featherstone perceived that he was Lord Wilmot.

"How do you, Colonel Lane?" he said. "Mrs Jane, your most obedient! I pray you be in readiness for the high honour which awaits you. His Majesty comes himself to meet you, with the Princes his brothers, and the Queen in her coach, desiring to do you as much honour, and give you as good a welcome as possible."

"We are vastly beholden to their Majesties," replied Colonel Lane, looking as pleased as he felt, which was very much: for the honour thus paid to him was most unusual, and showed that the young King and his mother considered his service an important one. "Featherstone!" he called, looking back, "keep you close behind, or we may lose you."

Featherstone tried hard to obey, but found the order difficult of execution. The crowd was only bent on seeing the meeting, and cared not a straw whether Featherstone were lost or not. He knew not a word of French, and was aware that if he did lose his master, he would probably have no little trouble in finding him again. Moreover, he was very curious to see the King--partly on Kate Lavender's principle, of afterwards having it to talk about. Just at that awkward moment his horse took to curvetting, and he had enough to do to manage him. He was vaguely conscious that one of the riders, who sat on a fine black horse, had come forward beyond the rest, and was cordially shaking hands with Mrs Jane and the Colonel. He heard this gentleman say, "Welcome, my life, my fair preserver!" and dimly fancied that the voice was familiar.

Then, having reduced his horse to decent behaviour, he lifted up his eyes and saw--Will Jackson.

Will Jackson, and none other, though now clad in very different garb!

He it was who sat that black barb so royally; the King's plumed hat was in his left hand, while the right held that of Mrs Jane. It was at Will Jackson's words of thanks that she was smiling with such delight; it was he before whom Colonel Lane bent bare-headed to his saddlebow.

The awkward lout who had never been in a gentleman's service, the ignorant clown, fresh from the plough-tail, the Roundhead, the traitor, had all vanished as if they had never been, and in their stead was King Charles the Second, smilingly complimenting the friends to whose care and caution he owed his safety. If the earth would have opened and swallowed him up, Featherstone thought he would have been thankful. But a worse ordeal was before him. As he sat on his now quiet horse, gazing open-mouthed and open-eyed, the King saw him, and the old twinkle, which Featherstone knew, came into the dark eyes.

"Ha! I see an old friend yonder," said he comically. "I pray you, fetch my fellow-servant up to speak with me."

Poor Featherstone was laid hold of, pulled off his horse, and pushed forward close to that of the King.

"How do, Robin?" asked the merry monarch, who heartily enjoyed a little affair of this sort. "Nay, look not so scared, man--I am not about to cut off thine head."

Featherstone contrived to mumble out something in which "forgive" was the only word audible.

"Forgive thee! what for?" said King Charles. "For that thou knewest me not, and tookest me for a Roundhead? Why, man, it was just then the finest service thou couldst have done me. I have nought to forgive thee for save a gla.s.s of the best ale ever I drank, that thou drewest for me at breakfast on the morrow of my departing. Here, some of you"--His Majesty plunged both hands in turn into his pockets, and, as usual, found them empty. "What a plague is this money! Can none of you lend me a few louis?"

The pockets of the suite proved to be almost as bare as those of the King. The Duke of Hamilton managed to find a half-louis (which he well knew he should never see again); Queen Henrietta was applied to in her coach, but in vain, as she either had no money, or did not choose to produce it, well knowing her son's extravagance and thoughtlessness.

Colonel Lane had a sovereign, which he furnished. The King held them out to Featherstone.

"There!" he said, "keep somewhat for thyself, and give somewhat to the little dairy-maid that took my part, and would have had me knock thee down. Tell her she'll make a brave soldier for my Guards, when all the men are killed. Divide it as thou wilt. Nay, but I must have a token for pretty Mrs Jenny." His Majesty cast his eyes about, and they fell on his plumed hat. Without a minute's consideration he loosened the diamond buckle. "Give her that," said he, "and tell her the King heartily agrees with her that Will Jackson's an ill-looking fellow."

It was just like King Charles to give away a diamond buckle, when neither he nor his suite had money to pay for necessaries. Robin Featherstone stepped back into the crowd, where he was pretty well hustled and pushed about before he regained his horse; but he managed to keep fast hold of the money and the diamond clasp. He was rather troubled what to do with them. The jewel had so pointedly been intended for Jenny, that he could scarcely help dealing rightly in that instance; but the division of the money was not so clear. A man who was just and generous would have given the sovereign to Fortune, and have kept the half-louis (worth about 8 shillings 6 pence) for himself; but Feathers tone was not generous, and not particularly anxious to be just. The portion to be appropriated to Fortune dwindled in his thoughts, until it reached half-a-crown, and there for very shame's sake it stayed.

"And why not?" demanded Mr Featherstone of his conscience, when it made a feeble remonstrance. "Did not His Majesty say, 'Divide it as thou list'? Pray who am I, that I am not to obey His Majesty?"

Had His Majesty's order been a little less in accordance with his own inclinations, perhaps Mr Featherstone would not have found it so inc.u.mbent on him to obey it. It is astonishing how easy a virtue becomes when it runs alongside a man's interest and choice.

Featherstone had never learned self-denial; and that is a virtue nearly as hard to exercise without practice as it would be to play a tune on a musical instrument which the player had never handled before. In that wonderful allegory, the _Holy War_--which is less read than its companion, the _Pilgrim's Progress_, but deserves it quite as much-- Bunyan represents Self-Denial as a plain citizen of Mansoul, of whom Prince Immanuel made first a captain, and then a lord. But he would never have been selected for either honour, if he had not first done his un.o.btrusive duty as a quiet citizen. Self-denial and self-control are not commonly admired virtues just now. Yet he is a very poor man who has not these most valuable possessions.

Robin Featherstone stayed with the Colonel just as long as it suited himself, and until he had exhausted such pleasures as he could have in Paris without knowing a word of the French language, which he was too lazy to learn. What a vast amount of good, not to speak of pleasure, men lose by laziness! When this point was reached, Featherstone told the Colonel that he wished to return to England; and Colonel Lane, who, happily for himself, was not lazy, set things in train, and procured for Robert a pa.s.sage to England in the service of a gentleman who was going home.

"I wonder how little Jenny's going on," said our idle friend to himself, as he drew near Bentley. "I might do worse than take little Jenny. I only hope she hasn't taken up with that clod-hopper Fenton while I've been away, for want of a better. I almost think I'll have her. Dolly Campion's like to have more money, 'tis true; but it isn't so much more, and she's got an ugly temper with it. I shouldn't like a wife with a temper--I've a bit too much myself; and two fires make it rather hot in a house. (Mr Featherstone did not trouble himself to wonder how far Jenny, or any other woman, might like a husband with a temper.) Ay, I think I'll take Jenny--all things considered. I might look about me a bit first, though. There's no hurry."

CHAPTER SIX.

WHEREIN JENNY MAKES HER LAST MISTAKE.

"I marvel Tom and Jenny Lavender doesn't make it up," said Persis Fenton, as she laid the white cloth for supper on her little table.

"Here's Jenny got a fine sensible young woman, with G.o.d's grace in her heart (more than ever I looked for), and Tom goes on living in that cottage all by his self, and never so much as casts an eye towards her-- and that fond of her as he'd used to be, afore, too! Tony, man, don't you think it's a bit queer?"

"I think," said old Anthony, looking up from his big Bible, which he was reading by the fireside, "I think, Persis, we'd best leave the Lord to govern His own world. He hasn't forgot that Tom's in it, I reckon, nor Jenny neither."

"Well, no--but one'd like to help a bit," said Persis, lifting off the pan to dish up her green pudding, which was made of suet and bread-crumbs, marigolds and spinach, eggs and spice.

"Folks as thinks they're helping sometimes hinders," replied Anthony, quietly taking off his great horn spectacles, and putting them away in the case.

"Tell you what, Tony, I hate to see anything wasted," resumed Persis, after grace had been said. "If there's only an end of thread over, I can't abear to cast it away; I wind it on an old bobbin, thinking it'll come in some time."

"The Lord never wastes nothing, wife," was Anthony's answer. "See how He grows plants in void places, and clothes the very ruins with greenery. It's always safe to trust Him with a man's life."

"Ay," half a.s.sented Persis, "but it do seem a waste like of them young things' happiness."

"Where didst thou ever read in the Word, Persis, as happiness was the first thing for a man to look to? The Lord's glory comes first, and then usefulness to our fellows, a long way afore happiness. Bless the Lord, He do make it happy work for man to seek His glory--and that's what Tom doth. I'll trust the Lord to see to his happiness."

Just as the green puddings came out of the pan, Tom Fenton turned into the lane leading up to his own home, having been engaged in delivering a work-table that he had made for the Vicar's wife. It was a beautiful day at the end of October, very warm for the time of year, and the sun was near its setting. As Tom came to a turn in the lane, he saw a short distance before him, up a bye-road which led past Farmer Lavender's house, a solitary girlish figure, walking slowly, and now and then stopping to gather something from the bank. A slight quickening of his steps, and a turn into the bye-road, soon brought him up with the solitary walker.

"Good even, Jenny!"

"Good even, Tom!"

For some seconds they walked abreast without any further speech. Then Tom said--

"I've just been up to parson's."

"Oh, have you?" replied Jenny, a little nervously.

"Their Dorcas saith she's heard as Featherstone's back."

"Is he so?" said Jenny, in a still more constrained tone.

"Didn't like it in France, from what she heard."

"Very like not," murmured Jenny.

"He's got a place with Mr Chadderton--the young gentleman who was married of late, and who's coming to live at Bentley Hall; so you're like to see a bit of him again."

"I don't want to see him," said Jenny suddenly. "I'd as lief he didn't come nigh me."

"You was used to like him middling well wasn't you, Jenny?"

Before Jenny could answer, the very person of whom they were speaking appeared at a turn of the lane, coming towards them.

"Mrs Jenny Lavender, as I live!" said he. "Now, this is luck! I was on my way to the farm--"

"With your back to it?" asked Tom.

Mr Featherstone ignored both Tom and the question.

"Mrs Jenny, since I had the delight of sunning myself in your fair eyes, I have had the high honour of beholding His Most Gracious Majesty King Charles, who was pleased to command me to deliver into your white hands a jewel which His Majesty detached from his own hat. He--"