In a Black Mantle. An historical novel

Front matter

. PRICE TWO SHILLINGS AND1 SIXPENCE. <$& Sybil Maxwell GRIFFITH FARRAN & CO.. LONDON AND SYDNEY. This book is best described as a piece of Rococo, for it resembles that jewelry of the Rhineland in having many real gems (of speech and fact) in a bronze setting of fiction. Maxwell Papers have been used by permission of Lord Herries and Sir W. Frazer. IN A BLACK MANTLE. AN HISTORICAL NOVEL. BY SYBIL MAXWELL. LONDON : GRIFFITH FARRAN OKEDEN & WELSH, Newbery House, Charing Cross Road ; AND SYDNEY. 1892. Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London. PAGE I CONTENTS.

Chapter I

Marriage of a waiting gentlewoman, " Thyrza," of Hillford, Devon, to a Scotch sergeant — Her desolate home-coming to a badly managed farm in Nithsdale

Chapter II

Treating of Lord Nithsdale's seventh birthday — Thyrza presents him with a charm to catch moles — And foretells to his mother trouble with the Covenanters — In the afternoon the child, under the auspices of the Duke of Hamilton, signs a petition to King James for the Covenanters' lands, forfeit at Bothwell Brigg — The lands granted . . . 16

Chapter VI

Lady Winny sets fire to her tall cap — Nithsdale goes to the rescue, but not wishing to have her name dragged into discussion by Larive, accepts his challenge for " a lie of the first magnitude " — Maintenon informs Louis XIV., who requests the Sieur to retire to his estates, thereby stopping the duel . . . . . . 71

Chapter X

Minister John Boggs requests Thyrza's good offices for his cow — Mrs. Boggs for her son — Strange effects supposed to result from Thyrza's visit — The test of a " cow in breeches," commonly used for witches, tried against her — It fails . . .113

Chapter I. Thyrza's Wedding

On the warmest day in summer the wind blew cold through the deep shadow of the great beech avenue at Hillford ; the smooth shining boles of the trees and the delicate fretwork of leaves over head seemed to lay a magical influence, like that which broods in a stone temple, on the warm rollicking summer airs — to chill them, and send them away howling a little, like restless, impish urchins scurrying from church. Below the grey polished shafts of the glorious living columns wandered, hand in hand, a pair of lovers in weighty discourse ; their wedding was to take place the next day. The bridegroom was one Stephen Ross, sergeant, in the service of his Majesty James II. He was a tall, broad shouldered man, with ruddy locks, faintly marked eyebrows, grey eyes, and a mouth whose expression was completely hidden by a huge moustache.

The whole face was self-contained, and did not proclaim the man. It rather wrapped his indi viduality in an eminently respectable outer garb, B ower which the bride flung the glamour of a first love, and clothed him with perfection. Thyrza Squire, waiting gentlewoman to the ladies of Hillford, was a slightly built girl of eighteen, with a clear Devonshire complexion, large blue eyes, dark brown hair, and sweet im pulsive face. It was only after close observation to be noticed, through the bloom and soft outlines of her young beauty, that her features were clearly cut as a cameo, and the line of the smiling lips, when closed over the white teeth, was delicate and decided. She was an orphan, whose family had been for many generations falconers to the Hillfords of Hillford, and had saved up enough money to purchase a farm near the estate.

On the death of Thyrza's father, which took place when she was fifteen, the Hillfords let the little property for her, and received her into their service ; so that by the date of her marriage she had accu mulated quite a comfortable income for a girl of her position in life. The word gentlewoman in those days comprised all shades of gradation between companion and maid, otherwise Thyrza and her exact place in the social scale would have been difficult to class. She was unique, almost ubiquitous. Versed in farm and dairy manage ment from early experience in her own home, instructed in needlework, housekeeping, reading, and writing, thanks to unusual advantages afforded her at the Hall, "she was," said the ladies Hillford, " almost worthy to marry a gentleman." They were a little disappointed that she fixed her affec tions on a matter-of-fact sergeant from Scotland.

The northern kingdom seemed to them to be at an almost inaccessible distance up country, a spot from whose bourn they could scarcely hope she would ever return. It was with quite a melancholy interest that they had seen her pack her large oak chest with clothes and house linen, and fold her three new gowns with lavender ; while they wondered if she would live long enough in the climate of Ultima Thule to wear out the un made piece of fine North Tawton cloth which formed the servant wedding present, or the warm hooded travellings cloak which was their own o-ift. " Steenie darling," began Thyrza, as she sauntered along;, leaningon his arm, and looking proudly up into his impassive face, " I have not yet told you of the maister's wedding present to me. It is a new plough, exactly like his own, with enough wheat to sow three acres, besides a few sacks that I shall take for our bread.

You promised me, did you not, that any goods of mine might travel in the regimental baggage wagons ? So the things are all into Exeter, bideing till we start." " Um ! 'tis a pity you cannot relish oat cakes, Thyrza. I don't know what the neighbours will say to new-fangled ways. Oat cake is good enough for them," returned Stephen dubiously. " What do the neighbours' customs matter to us ? We donot want to make them eat wheaten bread, or use our new plough ; but if you'me minded to have oat cakes, I'll soon learn to make them for 'ee, my dear," replied the bride caress ingly. " But I have still other presents for which I want you to make room. The young ladies have put me up some of their books for keep sakes, and quite a mort of plants from their garden. Are you quite sure you will be able to take them ?

" (a little anxiously.) " Well, yes, just for this once, to do you a pleasure. But I shall never march again with so much gear." " Oh, thank you, Steenie dear, you are so good to me." Then followed a sound of kisses in the beech avenue ere the pair emerged from its shade. " It will be a long march from Exeter to Edin borough, and on again to Nithsdale," he pursued, his thoughts still busy with his regiment. " Why, Thyrza, what are you crying about ? " (in a tone of great surprise.) " Oh, nothing ; at least, because it's a long way from Hillford to — to Terreagles, and I do dearly love my young ladies " (sob), " and may be I shall never see them again," wailed Thyrza, breaking down utterly. " Well, you'll have me, and my home will be yours." " Oh, yes, yes; only I have lived to Hillford most all my life " (renewed tears).

" You are not obliged to leave it, if you prefer your young ladies to me." There was no banter, but an accent of vexaticn in his tone. Thyrza dried her eyes and repressed her feelings with a strong effort, and managed to appear quite composed by the time they entered the great quadrangle at Hillford. Here they took their last farewell as lovers. Stephen went home to a distant village, down the drive and the beech avenue, through the magnificent old gateway (with its lodge in its own inside), and out into the deeply cut road with its high hedges. These hedges divided fields somewhat rush-grown, with marsh mallow and cresses flourishing thickly in their numerous streams, for Hillford lay on the borders of Dartmoor — mother of waters. Thyrza entered the house, and going into the dining-room re mained for some moments in deep study before the picture of Charles I., which hung, and still hangs, over the buffet.

Hillford had stood a siege for the martyr King, and hidden him in its secret recesses from the malice of his enemies. This portrait had been given by his own gracious hand, in token of gratitude for the loyalty of the family. Thyrza's interest in it was neither artistic nor historical, but purely personal. She traced in the royal features a look which reminded her of the bluff visage of Stephen, only she privately considered her lover was more manly-looking than the King. She spoke of the resemblance to none, for fear of ridicule. Could it be merely a national likeness, a vague something common to all Scotch ? That solution scarcely satisfied her. She wondered with tears — was Stephen reserved for a martyr's crown ? Did the shadow of future suffering and glory lie already on his brow ? In gazing at the noble portrait before her, she discerned beauty, dignity, endurance, resignation, courtliness — nay, to her loyal eyes there was something Christlike in the aspect of the King, that had been felt and faithfully depicted by the o-enius of the great artist.

All that she saw was undoubtedly there, but certain traits had escaped JN A BLACK MANTLE. her that were evident enough to a pair of irre verent young orbs, that scanned everybody and everything in a particularly unprejudiced and original manner. A girlish laugh caused Thyrza to look round. Mistress Maud Hillford, aged thirteen, had been watching her quietly from a deep window-seat, where she had taken up her position quite unobserved. " I believe you think his sainted Majesty is like Stephen Ross. Ah, Thyrza, how you blush ! Never deny. Stephen does truly remind me of the King. They both look as if they always made up their minds first and thought afterwards, and could neither of them see an inch beyond their own nose or go out of themselves to save their life, much less that of a friend. For all Stephen's grand uniform I do not believe he has as much courage as a guinea-pig.

He will be a weak fool to have to do with." " O fie, Mistress Maud, that ever I should live to hear a Hillford speak so lightly of his sacred Majesty ! If it were not my wedding eve, you should go supperless to bed, I promise you." "His sacred Majesty Sergeant Steenie ? " in quired Maud, bent on mischief. "Just listen to this, Thyrza, and see for what you will leave us. Master Steenie's distant cows have such very long horns that I have been searching the library for information about Scotland." And taking a book from the window-seat she began reading; : — " ' Scotland, whose wrinkled surface derives its original from the Chaos (so called from Scota, Pharaoh's daughter), the judgment of the devil, and snow is naturalized and made a free denizen here.' "And you are so fond of warmth, Thyrza !

As to the farming — " ' Some animals they have by the name of hogs, but more like porcupines.' " And how would you like to ride to Exeter like this ? ' Harness, bridle, saddle-girths, stirrup, crupper, all wood from head to tail, because from the untoward tricks of their horses one would guess the devil to be in them, and nothing but a withy will bind a witch. The bits are kind of musroll of two pieces of wood.' "Steenie doesn't tell you of these trifles. I wish you would send him north by himself, Thyrza, and marry Jack Burden, with his good land, and his fat pigs, and strong leather harness. It will be too late to-morrow. I like Jack well — he has a warm heart, but there is something cold blooded about Steenie's drawl; bid him go hang ! or you will live to repent it." " Mistress Maud, you must be surely mazed, to speak to me like this here of the man I love, and whom I shall wed to-morrow ; it is well for you your sister cannot hear you."

" We none of us understand what you find to attract you in Stephen," persisted Maud, "and we think you are in love with the romance of seeing strange places, or perhaps with the buttons of his uniform ! " " As if a child could understand such matters," returned Thyrza loftily. "But, my clear " (suddenly breaking down, and kissing her young tormentor with choking sobs), " it would break my heart to leave 'ee if I were going to be queen to-morrow. You will write, dear heart, and tell me how you all fare, will you not ? and if the Shellaty hen rears her late brood that I found just hatched in the ivy, and if " But here the thread of Thyrza's speech was broken off by the entrance of an elder member of the Hillford family, who wished to consult her on arrangements for the wedding. " Has Sergeant Ross spoken much to you on religious matters ?

We are so afraid, as he is Scotch, that he may not approve of our decorating the chapel, yet we wish you to have a wedding worth remembering-." "Indeed, I know verylittle of Steenie's opinions; but he tells me that in Nithsdale the cry is all for toleration; so whatever you think fit " (she said vitty) " will surely please him." " Toleration ? All the Nithsdales are Roman Catholics, the common people Covenanters, some of the gentry of our Church. They must want toleration to season the mixture. I am glad Stephen's so large-minded ; he might have objected to junket to-morrow, or turned it sour by too long a grace. In good earnest, Thyrza, you have become so completely one of us, that we wish you would have chosen a richer man, nearer home." " I have no patience with your long-faced loon. ' Bob is joy in my conceit,' " said the remorseless Maud.

" Dear ladies, you have shown me much favour. As for the match I am making, ' none can wear the heart's ease but such as desire no more than they were born to ' ; besides," and her face beamed radiant, " I do dearly love Stephen Ross." ' That ends the matter," laughed Maud. " Mistress Mary, will you walk through the house with me before I go," said Thyrza, turning to the elder sister, " that I may leave a blessing behind me ? " Thyrza was known at Hillford to have gifts of curious kinds, and her good word was greatly valued, so that Mary Hillford complied with her request readily and seriously. She rose and accompanied her thoughtfully across the quadrangle and through the long-disused suites of rooms that had been the dwelling-house of the Hillfords in the reign of Charles I., before the new side was built.

Thyrza paused opposite the cramped secret chamber, which had so successfully hidden the king from his enemies, and stood for some moments perfectly still, 'and lost in thought, until Mary Hill ford, taking her hand, led her on, inquiring, — • " What made you pause so long ? Did you see anything ? " " No, mistress, nothing but the past repeating itself in the future, — not here — not here — -I am going where the next act of Stuart tragedy will be played out, and my life with it. Pray for me," cried Thyrza, with a sharp note of anguish in her voice. " Surely I will," returned Mary soothingly; "but do not pay too much attention to your own thoughts. The prospect of parting from us has unhinged you." So they passed on through chapel and ban queting hall, library and gallery, and back to the inhabited side of the house, facing the great ponds and the terrace, where peacocks strutted proudly to and fro.

The sunset streamed in through the westerly windows, and lit up the pictures with magical effects. In this house the passing of time had left decided imprints on the walls ; but nothing was arranged chronologically or systema tically, the owners having a desire to make it a museum. You might see the great picture of Cressy with Hillfords fighting in the van of battle close to a portrait of Mary Tudor, who gazed from the canvas with a more youthful and pathetic face than one usually associates with her memory. Farther on hung Elizabeth, magnifi cently jewelled. The staircases were crowded with portraits of royal personages and departed Hillfords, most of whom had played stirring parts in the drama of their day. Their influence seemed to have grown into Thyrza's life, giving it a sense of historical value, and investing her with a keen interest in the present and future growing out of such a past.

Unconsciously also the great beauty of form and colour which surrounded her had had lasting effect in moulding her ideas, and forming her taste on a high artistic level. Nor was the humorous side of history wanting at Hillford, as Maud very well knew, and way laying the more sober pair, she dragged them to the kitchen, where hung a magnificent crested warming pan, found in the tent of the Earl of Essex after his retreat ; which was much treasured by Squire Hillford, as a memento of the luxurious habits of the outwardly austere Puritans. The Hillford before him had added to the handle a label inscribed — " Let his warming pan ever be cold, A perpetual frost underneath it, sir. Maud stopped Thyrza before this queer relic, and asked if she meant to include it in her special benediction, and then began to rally her.

" Come, come, Thyrza, you look more as if you were going to be buried than married to-morrow. Put a good face on the inevitable. When my wedding day comes, I shall sing,— " ' Farewell rock, and farewell reel, Thrice farewell, my spinning-wheel ; Let them gang unto the deil.' " Is not that a pretty Scotch ditty for you ? " " I trust my sister, when older, will entertain no such unwomanly sentiments," said Mary re provingly. " But she will, Goody ; I sing the song with a rare good will, and there is not so much as the smell of a lie in it," retorted the pretty scapegrace. "Oh, Mistress Maud, you will quiet down as you grow older." " Never ! What would become of Hillford ? it would tumble down from sheer dulness, when you are gone, Thyrza, if I did not keep them all busy chiding me ! I can tell you the master has no patience with Steenie's wish for a sober marriage.

I heard him say it would be a mere patch upon a wedding-, for thoug-h he would see to the ' character of the brideale,' there would be no gloves, no garters, no scarves, no epithalamium." " What's that ? " inquired Thyrza. " Oh, some sort of French cake, I suppose," returned Maud, who was an inventive genius, and did not like to appear ignorant ; and away she darted, murmuring a ditty to the effect that in Scotland Thyrza would find — " The swains greater brutes than their flocks ; The nymphs as polite as the swains." Thyrza's wedding was over, and so was the long weary journey north, and Stephen, with his bride behind him on a pillion, was riding from Edinborough towards his own domicile. " I am longing to get home ; tell me a little what the house will be like," she asked eagerly. " It will not be like Hillford," he replied tersely; then after a pause, " I may be ordered away to the wars at any moment, and you will find the cot lonely.

Ah-um ! if you could get a place as waiting maid at Terreagles, it might be better for you." " Oh, I would liefer have my own little home, since it is yours, than, serve strangers in the grandest place on earth." " So you say." Then he stopped the horse, being anxious to avoid further conversation, and pulling out a tinder box proceeded leisurely to light his pipe, sineinp-,— ■s11Js> " Much meat doth gluttony produce, And makes a man a swine ; But he's a temperate man indeed That with a leaf can dine. He needs no napkin for his hands His fingers for to wipe, He hath his kitchen in a box, His roast meat in a pipe. And closing his lips firmly on the pipe, he set his horse in motion, and jogged silently along for another quarter of an hour, by the side of the brawling Nith, whose well-wooded banks showed that they were passing through a gentleman's estate.

Presently he pulled up before a disorderly farmyard, sprinkled with what she took to be a few dilapidated outbuildings. The appearance of the place was depressing in the extreme ; everything seemed green except the pasturage, whose thin, dried-up grasses could have been painted in hapless yellow ; a veil or thin coating of green covered the palings and gatepost. Thyrza hated rotten wood-work, which she considered inexcus able as long as acorns grew into oaks for planting. Thicker patches of moss had settled on the thatch of the shed, inside which a bevy of ragged-looking fowls complained of hard times in variously dis cordant notes. Stephen lifted Thyrza from the pillion. " Oh ! " she cried eagerly, " I am so glad we are at home ! Where is the house ? " " There," replied Stephen, with a queer twist of his mouth, pointing to a hut against the rock, which she had taken for a linhay or cows'-house.

It was but a poor mouse-hole of heath, mud, and such-like matter, and he watched her face criti cally, remarking, " No doubt you wish your treasure star had led you a more milken way." Thyrza was in an agony at her blunder, and the wound she feared she must have inflicted on Stephen's feelings. She wished the brown earth would open, and hide her from his gaze for the*next half-hour. " I am very fond of cob houses," she faltered ; then she glanced round in desperation, trying to think of something pleasant to say, that might soften the effect of her unlucky speech. The prospect was bleak and uninviting. Some of Lord Nithsdale's men were ploughing a few yards off ; " one held the plough, another drove it, a third carried a huge pole, with which he pushed it towards the furrow, or drew it towards the land.

It was, besides, his duty to clear the mould-board, and keep the coulter in the ground." " I think our new plough will surprise them," she ventured timidly. " One man can manage it; it will be a great savingof labour." " Not of anything else," returned Stephen, still ruffled. " We know that the English excel all nations in wastefully spending money. Three men's work costs less than your new plough would. You can learn from us to use the means that are at hand, and get a profit out of them." " The plough was a free gift, dear." " Well, yes, that is some excuse for it," he said, perceptibly mollified. Then he led her into the " poor mouse-hole," where a neighbour had kindled a peat fire on the flat hearth. Thyrza held her cold hands and feet to the glow, and felt warm and comforted, and was able to say gaily that " many a soldier's wife might be in worse quarters that day."

Lookinointo the heart of the fire, she constructed there many ideal farmhouses, into the snuggest of which the "mouse-hole" was to be transformed at no very distant date. The aspect of ordinary Scotch life in those days was homely, not to say plain. To quote from the great book of Caerlaverock. " The tenants lived very meanly, on kail, groats, and milk, with a crook ewe now and then about Martinmas. Their hose were white plaiding cloth sewn to gether. Their g;eneral wear was a cloth of black and white wool mixed together, undyed and coarse. They had single-soled shoes, and a black or white bonnet, none havinghats but the lairds, who thought themselves very well dressed for going to church pn Sunday with a black kelt coat of their wife's making. There was grey corn, but no wheat grown. Years later there was only one baker in Dumfries, who made ' bawbee baps ' of coarse flour and bran, which he carried in creels to the fairs in the neighbourhood, and there was weeping among the women when floods prevented his appearance;"

Chapter II

pandora's box. If you were to ask the most talented child of your acquaintance to take pencil and paper and draw you a house, it is probable you would obtain a fair ideal sketch of the old home of the Max wells at Terreagles. It had queer little square windows, pointed roofs, and high chimneys. The side view of the house was long and straight. Stiff buttresses supported the old walls, and spaces bare of glass were filled up by espaliers, which betokened rather advanced ideas of gardening for the time and place. Relics of the past, one hopes, may still remain in the modern mansion, such as the old " charter chist," of which, as former novel ists were wont to remark, "more anon," and the stout oak door, with spiral carvings of the lion and unicorn, whereon the latter had run his horn through the mouth of a very fish-like king of beasts, and pushed it out at the back of his head, while the lion's tail sprouts marvellously to right and left, in branches fruitful with heraldic signification.

As Terreagles stands at present, everything is enlarged, brightened, modernized. It is through the little square panes of the windows of the old house that I must ask you to look with me, and picture to yourself such arras, carving, state, and ancientry as your heart desires. Your imagination will be aided later on by a few home touches of Lady Nithsdale's etching. The old mansion had weathered many storms, and had once been saved from destruction, not by powder and shot, but by the ready wit of the Laid of Drumlangrig-, uncle of its owner, Lord Herries (an older family title than Nithsdale). The story runs as follows : An order went out, after Murray's victory at Langside, that Terr eagles should share the fate of Skirling and Ken muir castles, which were razed to the ground. Quoth the astute laird, with an air of quiet satis faction, " My nephew is resolved to throw it down himself, and build it up in another place."

To which the regent made answer, " I scorn to be a barrow-man to his old walls " ; and so the old walls remained intact. The library at Terreagles was. a spacious and lofty room, fitted round with shelves somewhat sparingly filled with books, all rather new looking. The ancient tomes and manuscripts whose pre sence might have been expected in such a house, were absent for very sufficient reasons ; but the master of the house was little concerned for their loss, not having advanced in literature beyond his horn book, the probable progenitor of the transparent slate of to-day. William Maxwell, Lord Nithsdale, was sitting cross legged on the library floor, a bit of hareskin in his hand, which fur looked rather damp and mumbled ; a young black spaniel was eyeing it askance, with a half-wistful, half-penitent ex pression.

The boy was tall for his age ; his limbs c gave promise of great height and strength in after-life. He had clear, darkblue eyes, a face at once frank and gentle, and a profusion of dark brown hair curling on his shoulders. It was his seventh birthday, and a great epoch in his history. Up to that time both he and his affairs had been in the hands of the widowed Lady Nithsdale, who was left "sole tutrix " to her dear children, the keys of the "charter chist being also keeped by her." However, at noon that da)-, the Duke of Hamilton, George and Samuel Maxwell, with many other members of the family, were expected, that she might have the support of their advice and presence at the solemn opening of the great chest, and the drawing up a petition to be presented to King James. This was a petition praying for a grant of lands forfeited by the Covenanters of Bothwell Brigg, to re-imburse the family for their heavy losses at Threave, Caerlave rock, and elsewhere, in the service of the Stuarts.

Lady Nithsdale entered the library with her daughter Mary, a child of ten, and both embraced the boy fondly. There was a certain family like ness between the children ; they had the same good open foreheads, and well marked, slightly arched eyebrows, with considerable breadth be tween the eyes ; the same straight, full noses. William's eyes were usually lit with a dreaming, gentle expression, though they could flash sternly enough upon occasion ; the curves of his mouth were sensitive. Mary had a bright, wide-awake look in her grey orbits, which were longer in shape than her brother's ; she had a thinner, lono-er upper lip, and more decidedly developed chin. Lady Nithsdale and her daughter were followed by Thyrza Ross, whose husband was fighting in the Netherlands. During his absence she had been taken into great favour at Terreagles, where she was as much trusted as she had formerly been at Hillford.