Memoirs of a lady in waiting

Chapter I

" There is but the flittering moment wherein to enjoy, But in the calendar of memory that moment is all time." Tupper's Proverbial Philosophy.

How strange it is to look back upon the past; the often mentioned " long ago" of our lives ; to take a retrospective view of all the trials and troubles that saddened our hearts, and made life seem so heavy a burthen. Do we think those trials so heavy now, when time has shown us the heart's real strength, and made us own that trials are often, in reality, " glances of God's watchful eye?" Do we not wonder how we could weep over such trifling matters ?

Ah ! it is too true, life begins with trifles. Some one has said — " Sorrows grow with us to perfect maturity, and then having attained their climax, lose their strength as we do ours, till at last they become almost pleasant, drawing us closer to our rest."

I have found this true, and think most very old people will say so too ; but I am wandering away. I

A2 was talking of thinking, or rather dreaming, of the past.

I dream, over it a good deal, and in the quiet evening I draw my arm-chair in front of the. fire, and clasping a little precious case of relics belonging to my " long ago," I sit down to enjoy my dream. I conjure up bright scenes in the merry blaze, and hear the echo of happy laughter in the crackling coals. It is very sad, and yet very pleasant ; so pleasant, indeed, that I ■would not forego that half hour of quiet thought for all the gay doings of the merry world.

I love the remembrance of my young days, the young days too of friends, some of whom are dead, some gone far away, and some so changed that I thank God I can remember their childhood, and thus bear with their present condition, for the past sheds its unchanging halo round all and each.

I am an old woman, a very old woman, and an old cripple, too ; so, dear reader, if you would like to learn what I have seen before the former came to pass, you must bear with an old fashioned, and, perhaps, rather prosy individual ; and when you tire do not tire your friends also by abusing my story, but rather let them judge for themselves.

I cannot exactly say why I have begun to tell you of my firelight dreams, but since I have done so I shall go on, dating my story from the second of November, that being the anniversary of my birthday ; and as it is a very cold evening, with snow upon the ground, and a blustering wind blowing against the window, I think no one will interrupt me ; so I may tell my story as slowly as I like, and, as the old song has

it—

" Laugh when I'm merry and sigh when I'm sad."

I do not think I should remember that particular birthday had it not been for an event which happened on it. It was also the birthday of my nurse, a cross, ugly old woman, who, having been my grandmother's and then my dear mother's maid until I was born, thought she might say or do anything she pleased, and used to scold us all, even my mother.

Upon this birthday she was more than usually cross, and hardly said " thank you" for a beautiful chintz dress, all over roses and tulips, which my father had bought in Holland, at my mother's express wish, for this day. I was sitting beside the toilet-table when the present was given, and saw a flush rise to my mother's cheek, as nurse grumbled out a sort of acknowledgment. My father soon came into the room, holding his hat, with its beautiful white plume almost touching the carpet, and looking so handsome and merry, that no wonder my mother ran up to him, and, blushing with pride, kissed him over and over again. I all the time stood looking on gravely, and thinking how beautiful they both were. He took nurse's old wrinkled hand in his, and wished her a happy year ; to which she replied, "Not much chance of that," with a sort of smile, which I thought made her look more uo-ly than ever. My father only laughed, and said something in French, which seemed to make my mother pad, even though she laughed mightily and pinched his cheek. After he and nurse had both gone away she laid her head down upon the table for a long time, and

1 heard her say, " Oh God ! help me to bear all these things for thy dear sake, for all is right that Thou orderest !" Soon after, while she was teaching me to say a little hymn, my father returned. Now he was flushed and angry, and before he spoke he caught me up in his arms, and holding me over his head, let me twist my fingers in his glossy ringlets ; then suddenly he looked grave, and opening the door, he put me out of the room, bidding me go to nurse. I did not happen to be pleased with this speedy ending to my usual game of fun with my merry father, and particularly being sent off to cross old nurse ; so as the door closed I sat down with my fingers in my mouth, and began to cry heartily.

I had not sat long when I heard a deep sob in the room, and a cry which sounded like my mother's. My own sobs were checked in a moment, and with open ears I listened for what would come next, but I listened in vain, and growing weary, I fell fast asleep. I do not know how long I slept, but it must have been a long time, for the light was fading away, and I felt cold and stiff. I was awakened by a pale, sad looking lady lifting me in her arms, and, in spite of my half shy, half petted struggles, holding me close to her breast. I then saw there was another and prettier lady with her, who stood back and looked surprised at the kind manner of the other. As they spoke in T?rench, I could not understand any words except one which I knew meant king.

The sound of their voices low as it was must have reached my father's ears, for we had not stood many moments when he opened the door ; at first he looked pale and lifted up his dark eyebrows, as he always did when anything surprised him, but, when the lady who held me, turned round, he grew very red, starting back at the same time, but suddenly changing he looked very .pleased, and falling on one knee seized her hand, which the lady held out, and commenced speaking very fast, growing so excited, that I began to think he would cry.

I think the lady thought so too, for she put me into her companion's arms and said — " Poor child ! I cannot hold you any more."

Then as I was carried away, I saw her lay her hand " upon my father's head, and lean against the door, but I was hurried away, and could see no more, and, child like, very soon forgot all that had happened in a romping game at hide-and-seek, amongst the great old-fashioned chairs in one of our large drawing-rooms.

I was still laughing wildly when the door opened, and my father led in the pale lady; I ran up and seizing her hand looked in her face.

I suppose she remembered being a little girl, and that little girls liked to be petted, for she lifted me in her arms and kissed me, saying as she put me down, " I was very like my dear mother," for which I said "thank you, madam," and made a low curtsey, such as a merry friend of my mother's.had taught me ; the lady smiled kindly and said, I was a " courtly little dame," and should be a maid of honour ! After saying this, she let my father lead her through the open window into the garden, where they spoke for a few moments, he seeming to request something she -would not grant ; at last he knelt down and kissed her hand, remaining still kneeling while the lady seemed to float away, at least I can call it by no other name, so gracefully did she move out of my sight.

The next moment I was clinging round my father's neck, pulling his hair, and telling him how merry I had been with the pretty lady with the fair hair, and that she had told me I was not half so pretty, and had not half such blue eyes as he had, at which he laughed much and bid me tell my mother, which I now remember I forgot to do, but said at the time I would ; and then he sent me to nurse, telling me not to take the pet again or I should not ride on his back or have any more fun for a long time, so promising to be good I ran off brim full of news, and never caring anything for cross looks, when I had so much to unburden my mind of. It was one, two, three and a jump along the oak corridor, and then dash against the great nursery door.

That night when the hour came at which the servants all met us in the great hall, and the chaplain read prayers, I saw a man I had never seen before : his face made me shudder and draw closer to my mother than my wont was, keeping my face close upon her arm.

He was on the other side, and there was an expression of hatred and contempt upon her dear face which till then I could not have believed possible. Young as I was, I noticed with what repugnance she avoided meeting his eye, and seemed to recoil when he officiously attempted to pick up a glove she had dropped.

It was one my father had given her, and which she valued both for the giver and the costliness of the work, yet even there before all the servants she would not touch it, but desired her woman to carry it away. I wondered, but thought she perhaps' wished to save them. Besides the man had very dirty hands.

My father being absent, after the servants had according to their custom wished my mother " God's blessing and good night," she, as the last left the room, went up to the chaplain and spoke a word or two in a whisper, then she turned to the stranger and made one of those stately bows, which at the time I speak of were the fashion amongst the great. She next grasped my hand and led me away holding my poor fingers so tight as to bring the tears to my eyes : but not a word would I say, no, not though a large diamond ring she wore cut me almost to the bone, and I saw the blood drop upon my dress. I have the scar upon my forefinger yet, and can almost fancy I feel the clutch of the fair little hand now. Oh ! how she sobbed and cried when she saw my hand was hurt, talking to herself of bad omens j her woman had sad work to quiet her, but at last being exhausted with weeping, which I thought strange for so small a thing (though I knew afterwards that it was but the drop which had made the cup overflow), being quite tired out she let Margaret arrange her beautiful hair for the night, and sent her to tell nurse that I was to renmin, where I was.

After a little petting and talking I was laid in her soft comfortable bed, which I thought (and what little girl does not ?) far more delightful than my own, and that the permission to sleep there was recompence sufficient for all the cut fingers in the world. Just as I was dropping asleep, remembering I had not said my prayers, I sprung out of bed, and running up to my mother, who was sitting with her head resting on one hand, told her ; and after kissing her very often, I knelt down and said the little prayer she had taught me, ending with asking a blessing for my grandfather, whom, though I had never seen, or even known by any other name, I had been taught to love and pray for, -since I first could speak. As I said, " Please bless my dear grandfather," I felt my mother's arm tremble, and she repeated the words in a low, strange voice ; but before I could think more, or ask the question that was trembling on my lips, I heard my father enter. In an instant he was kneeling beside me, his arms round us both, and his face buried in my mother's white dressing-gown. I said " Amen," and looked up ; he was shaking very much ; even his voice, as he joined me, trembled; suddenly he raised his head and said —

" It is in vain, dearest ; hopeless — quite hopeless ! "

" Is there not a shadow of a hope, Edward 1 " asked my mother, speaking as if in great pain ; for she held her hands clasped all the time, and wrung them in agony as my father shook his head.

She leant back, and great tears rolled down her cheeks, which were as white as marble, her lips moving as if she was praying. All at once she threw her arms round my father and said —

" Oh ! Edward, they dare not kill him, my noble father ; he so gentle and so kind ; he who knelt to beg the poor king's life ! Oh ! the son dare not consent to this wicked murder ! " and she seemed too much excited even to breathe, still grasping my fathers neck, apparently unconscious that I was growing frightened, began sobbing bitterly, at which, gently disengaging her arms, he lifted me up, and after holding my face to the cold cheek of my poor mother, he laid -me in bed and covered me carefully up, lingering as if he liked to look' at me. He made me so comfortable, that in spite of my endeavours so stay awake and hear the end of what had already so much excited my curiosity, my eyes shut of their own accord, and though I opened them once or twice very angrily, I forgot everything and fell fast asleep.

It could not have been long after, when I awoke frightened and trembling from a horrible dream. Starting up, I saw to my great joy the light still burning, and my dear mother sitting in — the safest place in the world — my father's arms. They were talking in a low voice, and after looking at them for a short time until I was at rest again, I lay down and fell to thinking of all sorts of things. My eyes were accidentally fixed upon the door, which I thought moved ; being rather frightened, I looked very hard, and presently it opened a little, and a hideous face looked jn, so dark and horrible that I thought it must be the devil, and lay perfectly paralysed with fear, expecting every moment he would appear bodily. The glaring eyes were looking towards my parents ; and as they spoke low, the face was thrust farther forward, so far as to become distinctly visible.

The spell was broken — I knew it was the stranger who had been at prayer3, and like a pent-up stream my fear burst forth in a loud shriek, and springing up, I shouted —

" The man ! the man ! "

In an instant both my parents were by my side, but it was long before I could make them comprehend what had frightened me. When they did, all trace of the cause was of course gone, and the door fast closed. But my father turned deadly pale as he looked towards my mother, who, as soon as she could make out who and what I had seen, had dropped my hand, and stood staring with wild eyes.

" Will they take you too 1 " she gasped ; and then, hardly knowing what she said or did, she caught me in her arms and cried aloud —

"If they take you, Edward, this child will be an orphan, for the blow that parts your soul and body will unite us for ever in God's heavenly kingdom."

My father only hid his face and said —

" Oh ! my wife ! that kingdom — would it were ours ; any way to it, even the . . ."

" Hush ! hush ! for the love of heaven ! the word would kill me. Oh ! my child ! my child ! pray God you may go with us, for there is no rest or peace on earth."

The fountain of her tears seemed dry j but I would rather have seen those torrents of tears which she had shed at the commencement of that fearful night, than heard the deep tearless sobs which now seemed to tear her breast, and even left a stain of blood upon her lips. My dear father led her away, this time sitting down out of sight of the door, and carefully locking it. I was so worn out, between fear and excitement, that I fell asleep. Nor did I awake until the bright sun was shining into the room so cheerfully, that I could scarcely believe but that the scenes of the night before were only dreams.

Chapter II

" His memory, like some holy light, Kept alive in our hearts, will improve them, For worth shall look fairer, and truth more bright, When we think how he lived but to love them."

Moobe.

I shall never forget that day, or how pale and troubled my poor mother was, and how she kept watching for my father, starting at every sound. As evening came, still without bringing him, I could see that after every false alarm she pressed her handkerchief to her forehead, till at last it became quite damp, and I was sent to bring a fresh one. The sun was just setting amid a haze of red and purple when the long expected step was heard.

With an exclamation of delight my mother ran to the hall, but a shade of disappointment passed over her face, for my father was accompanied by a handsome old man, who, looking kindly at her, took her hand, and without noticing me led her back to the drawing-room. What happened there I do not know, being sent off to my bed ; but I found out next day that my father was preparing to go on a foreign embassy, and that though my mother grieved to part with him, she kept always telling him how thankful she was, and that they could never thank my Lord Clarendon enough.

She helped to pack the great leather trunk, folding everything with her own hands, and often, when she thought nohody was looking, holding the clothes to her lips until tears came ; then she would sigh and begin packing again.

My father was running backwards and forwards from the Court all day, and when night came looked so tired and worn out that my mother made him lie down and rest his head upon her lap, she all the while trying to talk cheerfully and keep back the bitter tears which I saw coming to her eyes.

At last midnight came, and, after kneeling down with us to ask God's protection during his journey, my beloved father went with my Lord Clarendon in a hired coach to the wharf where the ship lay ready to sail.

When he had fairly gone, my mother's courage gave way, and I thought she was dead, so long did the stupor last, but at length she clasped me in her arms and began to cry.

For three days she could not leave her bed ; but on the third, the pale lady, of whom I spoke before, came to her, and I noticed that when she left, my mother looked calmer and got up next morning at her usual hour, which showed me she must have derived great comfort from her kind visitor, who, when she returned, did not send me away as before, but allowed me to sit at my mother's feet and listen; though I could not understand what was said, as they spoke in French, I saw the lady's words pleased my mother, and though her tears often came they were not so bitter, but rather appeared to soothe.

Time went by, and each day the comforter came, always alone and always at the same hour. Other people too used to call, both ladies and gentlemen, though of the latter she only seemed pleased with my Lord Clarendon, who was the father of one of our lady friends, the pretty but unhappy looking Duchess of York.

In spite of all this attention and kindness time passed wearily, my mother growing so thin and pale that the dear lady, who had made me call her Mistress Catherine, after much persuasion, made her promise to drive every day.

This driving had a sad end. One day, when going to the park, the coachman had to draw aside to make room for an immense procession. I, full of admiration and wonder at the horses, soldiers, and dresses, was gazing eagerly at the crowd, begging to know who they were, when I felt my waist grasped by my mother ; she dragged me back into the coach, and, to my utter consternation, flung open the door and sprung out. I heard her shriek, and saw the crowd open before her and then close again, waving to and fro like the sea. At last my mother was brought back in the arms of a tall young man, who laid her in the coach and then hurried away. Immediately after my Lord Clarendon came and got in beside us, pulling up the shutters as he ordered the coachman to drive home. I was very much afraid ; but the quiet eye that was fixed upon me kept me quiet, though the sobs swelled in my throat, so I sat holding my mother's hand and feeling utterly wretched, for I thought she had been killed, and believed my Lord Clarendon knew it. Great, beyond all expression, was my joy when I saw her eyes open, and perceiving my Lord near her laid her head iipon his arm, and began weeping ; while he, bending down, spoke in a low tone, not making mention of any name, I heard him say, — " How like a saint he looked," and that " they would see him even more glorious again."

To my great grief, I was not permitted to remain with my mother when we reached home, but sent to my dismal nursery, where I went supperless to bed, as punishment for asking nurse so many questions.

Altogether, the day was a sad and troubled one —one ever to be remembered in our family, and indeed in England ; for I found that a dreadful crime bad been authorized by the Parliament, and to satisfy the private revenge of malignant enemies, a good old man, to whom no blame could be attached save chosing the side of the Parliament in the civil war, had been that day brought to the scaffold. Dear reader, that man was my grandfather, the good old General Okey, who, after years of exile, was betrayed by one he deemed his friend, brought to England as a traitor, and in spite of the earnest remonstrance of a few firm supporters, condemned to death. The certainty of his fate had been concealed from my mother, and thus she fell in the way of seeing the fulfilment of her fears.

I am telling you this now, clear reader, although I did not know it for a long time after ; but, to keep my story clear, I had better explain events as they happened. This event was what my father meant when

B he said there was "no hope," and also explains my mother's grief. This, too, was the cause of my father's leaving England, he being so implicated in the petitions for my grandfather's pardon as to draw suspicion on himself.

A few nights after the sad day I have just been speaking of, I had gone to bed without, as usual, seeing my mother ; but knowing she was sure to come, I lay awake and watched nurse knitting until she fell asleep, and then, being very lonely, I began (as children very often do) to cry, hiding my face under the sheets. Gradually my tears ceased ; I began meditating whether I could not get up and steal away to my mother, when a hand lifted the sheet, and I saw my Lord Clarendon holding a small lamp, which threw a strange light upon his pale, sweet face.

I neither started nor spoke, but waited for him to say something, which he soon did, telling me to " be quiet and not awake her," meaning nurse, who was still sleeping. Putting my arms round his neck, I begged him to take me to my mother, and he answered by lifting me up, and with a noiseless step, which I thought very strange for such a tall man, carried me past nurse and along the corridor, — not, however, to my mother's room, but up a long flight of stairs, to a little room usually occupied by the chaplain ; here he knocked. The instant the door opened, the light dazzled my eyes ; but I knew whose arms were clasped round me, and, hiding my face, I clung delighted to my father's breast.

When I raised my head I saw he was so changed that I hardly knew him. His beautiful hair and moustache had been cut off, and there was an ugly black patch across his cheek. Seeing my look of dismay, and perhaps fear, he set me down with an angry exclamation. But my lord put me in his arms again, saying—

" Edward, you are mad ; remember your disguise ; you may never see her again."

My father groaned and held me in his arms again, and I could feel his heart throbbing against mine as he kissed me, whispering a prayer in my ear that God would watch over me and make me a comfort to my mother. This caused me to look up, expecting she was there ; but I only saw a tall man, who was leaning against the door with folded arms, and looking eagerly at me.

" She is not here, my pet," whispered my father, " but you are going to her."

Then he clenched his hand, and swore to have vengeance on the murderers of my grandfather.

But my lord stepped forward, and laying his hand upon his lips, said rather sternly —

" Edward, be silent ; this folly may bring us all to the scaffold."

My father bit his lip, and looked in the kind friend's face with such a gaze of love and trust, that it has remained ever upon my memory, and ever will.

His eyes were still on my lord's face, when a sharp, low knock made us all start ; a side-door opened, and there stood Mistress Catherine.

She wore a large cloak thrown over a gay dress, and b2 her hood having fallen back, I saw a wreath of glittering jewels encircled her head.

My Lord Clarendon started, and, with a troubled face, remained perfectly still.

" Give me your child, my friend," she said, in her sweet voice, though it trembled much. " I could not trust them ; I came, and your wife is ready. Let me have her," she added hurriedly, " I promise to protect her j she shall be mine ; you know I have no child."

"Heaven bless your Majesty," said my father, scarcely able to speak, as he laid me in her arms. " Oh, make her like ..." here his voice gave way, and, covering his face, he sat silent.

A loud noise echoed through the hoiise, while the great bell pealed fiercely. In an instant the lights were extinguished, and Mistress Catherine, carrying me in her arms, ran quickly down a long steep stair, at the bottom of which some one was waiting, to whom she spoke in a language I had never heard before, but only a few words, and then a gust of cold wind made me cling closer to her breast.

" Be patient, dear one," she whispered ; "rest, rest."

I lay still, being an obedient child, and also very frightened. Although I was small of my age my weight soon began to have effect. I could feel her arms trembling violently, while her breathing grew quick and loud. " Let me walk," I cried, trying to get down ; but she held me tight until she was quite exhausted, when she said—

" I believe I must put you on your poor bare feet."

The cold damp grass chilled me as I ran along ; we came to a walk, the stones of which cut my feet, still I had a brave heart and went on. Presently a lamp shone before us, and in the dim light I saw we had reached a gate at which stood a coach, and in it I joyfully recognised my mother.