The Manchester Rebels of the Fatal '45

"I hope so," returned Dr. Byrom, rather gravely. "I will make some inquiries about her."

"Never will I place faith in a physiognomy again, if hers proves deceptive," cried Beppy.

Beppy, however, was not the only person bewitched by Helen.

When beheld at the Cross, the fair Scottish lassie electrified the crowd, and many a youth lost his heart to her.

As soon as the proclamation had been made, Sergeant Dickson addressed himself to the business on which he had come. Causing the drum to be beaten, he made a brief speech, in which he urged all brave young men who heard him to take up arms for their lawful sovereign, and help to restore him to the throne.

"All who have a mind to serve his royal highness, Prince Charles, are invited to come forward," he cried. "Five guineas in advance."

Many young men promptly responded to the call, and pressed towards the sergeant, who still remained on horseback near the Cross, with Helen beside him. Rollo, likewise, was close at hand, and kept constantly drubbing away at the drum.

Helen gained as many recruits as the sergeant himself – perhaps more. Her smile proved irresistible. When an applicant hesitated, a few words from her decided him. Each name was entered in a book by the sergeant, but the payment of the five guineas was necessarily deferred until the arrival of Mr. Murray, the prince's secretary.

Altogether, a great deal of enthusiasm prevailed, and the sergeant had good reason to be satisfied with the result of his advance-march from Preston. He remained nearly half an hour at the Cross, and then proceeded to the market-place, accompanied by all the new recruits, and followed by an immense crowd.

As they passed the house at the windows of which Beppy Byrom and her father were stationed, a momentary halt took place, during which Beppy came forward, and waved her handkerchief to the Scottish damsel. Helen bowed in acknowledgment with a grace peculiarly her own, and taking off her bonnet, pointed significantly to the white cockade that decked it.

"Will ye wear this, my bonnie young leddy, an I gie it ye?" she cried.

"Ay, that I will," replied Beppy.

Helen immediately rode up to the window, which she saw was quite within reach, and detaching the ribbon from her bonnet gave it to her admirer, who received it with every expression of delight, and instantly proceeded to fix it upon her own breast.

"Ye are now bound to find a recruit for Prince Charlie, my bonnie young leddy," said Helen, as she moved away amid the laughter and cheers of the beholders.

Previously to this little occurrence, Dr. Byrom and his daughter had been made acquainted with Helen's history by Tom Syddall, and had learnt that her character was irreproachable.

"I hope I shall see her again," said Beppy. "I should like so much to converse with her."

"Well, I make no doubt your wish can be gratified," said her father. "I'll speak to Syddall, and he will bid her call upon you. But why do you take so much interest in her?"

"I can't exactly tell," replied Beppy. "She seems to me to possess a great many good qualities, and, at all events, I admire her romantic attachment to her lover. Still, I don't think I should have been so very much charmed with her if she hadn't been so exceedingly pretty. And now you have the truth, papa."

"Good looks evidently go a long way with you, Beppy," said her father, laughing.

"Indeed they do, papa. But now that the street has become clear, let us go and speak to Tom Syddall."

The room from which they had viewed the proceedings at the Cross formed the upper part of a draper's shop. Thanking the owner, they now took their departure, and sought out Tom Syddall, whom they found at his door. He readily undertook to send Helen Carnegie to Miss Byrom as soon as the recruiting was over.

But the sergeant had a great deal to do, and did not care to part with either of his companions.

He continued to parade the town for some hours, enlisting all who offered themselves; and the number of the recruits soon exceeded a hundred.

The authorities did not interfere with him – probably deeming it useless to do so. Had they really surrendered the town they could not have proved more submissive.

CHAPTER III.

FATHER JEROME

Nothing had been heard of Sir Richard Rawcliffe since his sudden flight, but Constance had no fears for his safety, for all danger was over as soon as he got fairly out of Manchester.

But she looked forward to his return with an uneasiness such as she had never before experienced. Her father loved her dearly – better than any one else – for she was his only child. But he was of a violent temper – easily offended, and by no means easily appeased, as she herself had found, for she had more than once incurred his displeasure, though for matters of very trifling import. From her knowledge of his character, she could not doubt he would be exceedingly angry that she had read the letter relating to Atherton Legh, and though it would be easy to say nothing about it, she could not reconcile herself to such a disingenuous course.

After some reflection, she determined to consult Father Jerome, and be guided by his advice. Accordingly she sought a private conference with him, and told him all that had occurred.

The priest listened to her recital with great attention, and then said:

"I am glad you have spoken to me, daughter. If the matter is mentioned to Sir Richard it must be by me – not by you. It would trouble him exceedingly to think you are acquainted with this secret. He would blame himself for committing the papers to your care, and he would blame you for reading them."

"I have only read a single letter, father, as I have explained to you."

"That I quite understand; but I fear Sir Richard will suspect you have indulged your curiosity to a greater extent."

"My father will believe what I tell him," said Constance, proudly.

"'Tis better not to give him so much annoyance if it can be helped," rejoined the priest; "and though frankness is generally desirable, there are occasions when reticence is necessary. This is one of them. Have you the packet with you?"

"Yes, 'tis here," she replied, producing it.

"Give it me," he cried, taking it from her. "I will restore it to Sir Richard. He will then say nothing more to you. But mark me!" he added, gravely, "the secret you have thus accidentally obtained must be strictly kept. Breathe it to no one. And now I must not neglect to caution you on another point. Yesterday I saw this young man – this Atherton Legh – of whom we have just been speaking. He is very handsome, and well calculated to inspire regard in the female breast. I trust you have no such feeling for him."

"Father," she replied, blushing deeply, "I will hide nothing from you. I love him."

"I grieve to hear the avowal," he said. "But you must conquer the passion – 'twill be easy to do so in the commencement. Sir Richard would never consent to your union with an obscure adventurer. I therefore forbid you in your father's name to think further of the young man. Any hopes you may have indulged must be crushed at once."

"But I cannot – will not treat him in this way, father."

"I charge you to dismiss him. Recollect you are the daughter and heiress of Sir Richard Rawcliffe. You have committed a great imprudence: but the error must be at once repaired. Disobedience to my injunctions would be as culpable as disobedience to your father, whom I represent. Again I say the young man must be dismissed."

Before she could make any answer, the door opened, and the very person in question entered, accompanied by Monica.

"He has come to receive his sentence," said the priest, in a low, unpitying tone.

"Not now," she cried, with a supplicating look.

"Yes, now," he rejoined, coldly.

On this he went up to Monica, and telling her he had something to say, led her out of the room, leaving Atherton and Constance alone together.

"I fear I have come at a most inopportune moment," said the young man, who could not fail to be struck by her embarrassment.

"You have come at the close of a very severe lecture which I have just received from Father Jerome," she replied. "He blames me for the encouragement I have given you, and forbids me, in my father's name, to see you again."

"But you do not mean to obey him?" cried Atherton. "Surely you will not allow him to exercise this control over you? He is acting without authority."

"Not entirely without authority, for my father is guided by his advice in many things. This must be our last interview."