The Manchester Rebels of the Fatal '45

On this intimation Constance made a profound obeisance, and retired with the priest.

As soon as they were gone, the prince's countenance assumed a very singular expression, and he said to Atherton, "What think you of all this?"

"My opinion is that Sir Richard Rawcliffe does not mean to return, and has sent Father Jerome to make these excuses for him," replied Atherton.

"I have come to the same conclusion," replied Charles. "He has set my authority at defiance, but he shall find that I can reach him. You must set out at once for Rawcliffe Hall, and bring him hither."

"I am ready to obey your highness's orders," replied Atherton. "I have never seen Sir Richard's residence; but I know it is situated near Warrington, about eighteen miles from Manchester. I can get there in a couple of hours – perhaps in less."

"Provided you bring back the unruly baronet before night I shall be satisfied," said Charles.

He then sat down at the table, on which writing materials were placed, wrote a few lines on a sheet of paper, and, after attaching the sign manual to the order, gave it to Atherton.

"Sir Richard will not dare to resist that mandate," he said. "I do not think a guard will be necessary. But you shall take Sergeant Dickson with you. You will find him with the Chevalier de Johnstone at Lord George Murray's quarters. Show this order to Colonel Johnstone, and he will provide you with a good horse, and give all necessary directions to the sergeant. He will also explain the cause of your absence to Colonel Townley. Understand that you are to bring back Sir Richard with you at all hazards."

"I will not fail," replied Atherton.

Bowing deeply, he then quitted the prince's presence, and proceeded at once to Lord George Murray's quarters in Deansgate, where he found the Chevalier de Johnstone and Sergeant Dickson.

The Chevalier de Johnstone understood the matter at once, and immediately ordered the sergeant to provide two strong horses for Captain Legh and himself, bidding him go well armed.

Although the sergeant was told by his colonel to lose no time, he easily prevailed upon Atherton to let him bid adieu to Helen, who, as the reader is aware, had found a lodging with Beppy Byrom.

Very little delay, however, occurred, for as the sergeant rode up to the doctor's dwelling, Helen, who seemed to be on the watch, rushed out to greet him, and learnt his errand, receiving a kiss at the same time.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE RIDE TO RAWCLIFFE HALL

Crossing the bridge, and passing through Salford, Atherton and his attendant proceeded at a rapid pace towards the pretty little village of Pendleton. Skirting the wide green, in the midst of which stood the renowned May-pole, they hastened on through a pleasant country to Eccles – proceeding thence, without drawing bridle, to Barton-on-Irwell.

The road they were now pursuing formed a sort of causeway, bounded on the left by the deeply-flowing river, and on the right by the dark and dreary waste which could be seen stretching out for miles, almost as far as the town towards which they were speeding. This dangerous morass was then wholly impassable, except by those familiar with it; and, as Atherton's eye wandered over its treacherous surface, he pointed out to his attendant a distant spot on the extreme verge of the marsh, observing, with a singular smile:

"Yonder is Warrington."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Dickson. "Then we might shorten our distance materially by crossing the morass."

"No doubt, if we could cross it," rejoined Atherton. "But we should be swallowed up, horse and man, before we had proceeded far. Many an incautious traveller has met his death in Chat Moss."

"It looks an unchancy place, I must say," observed the sergeant, shuddering, as he gazed at it.

Beyond Boysnape the causeway narrowed, bringing them in dangerous proximity both with the river and the morass; but they rode on past Irlam, until they reached the point of junction between the Irwell and the Mersey – the last-named river dividing Cheshire from Lancashire. They had now ridden full ten miles; but, as their steeds showed no signs of fatigue, they went without slackening their pace to Glazebrook and Rixton. Chat Moss had been left behind, and for the last two miles they had been passing through a well-wooded district, and had now reached another dangerous morass, called Risley Moss, which compelled them to keep close to the Mersey. Little, however, could be seen of the river, its banks being thickly fringed with willows and other trees. Passing Martinscroft and Woolston, they held on till they came within half-a-mile of Warrington, even then a considerable town. Though the bridge at Warrington had been destroyed, a ford was pointed out to them, and they were soon on the other side of the Mersey, and in Cheshire.

From inquiries which they now made at a small roadside inn, where they halted for a few minutes to refresh themselves and their horses, they ascertained they were within a mile of Rawcliffe Park, and after a short colloquy with the host, who was very curious to learn what was doing at Manchester, and who told them he had seen Sir Richard Rawcliffe ride past some three or four hours ago, they resumed their journey, and soon arrived at the gates of the park.

CHAPTER XXVII.

RAWCLIFFE HALL

The domain was extensive, but had a neglected appearance, and did not possess any old timber, all the well-grown trees having been cut down in the time of the former proprietor, Sir Oswald Rawcliffe. Neither was the park picturesque, being flat, and in some places marshy. On one side it was bounded by the Mersey, and its melancholy look impressed Atherton as he gazed around.

Still he felt a singular interest in the place for which he could not account, unless it were that Constance was connected with it.

At length, they came in sight of the old mansion, near which grew some of the finest trees they had yet seen. The house had a gloomy look that harmonised with the melancholy appearance of the park.

Atherton had never beheld the place before, yet he seemed somehow familiar with it. The wide moat by which it was surrounded, the drawbridge, the gate-tower, the numerous gables, the bay-windows, all seemed like an imperfectly recollected picture.

So struck was he with the notion that he drew in the rein for a few minutes, and gazed steadfastly at the antique mansion, endeavouring to recall the circumstances under which he could have beheld it, but it vanished like a dream.

Before riding up to the house, he held a brief consultation with the sergeant, as to how it would be best to proceed.

Hitherto they had seen no one in the park, which, as already stated, had a thoroughly neglected air; nor, as far as they could judge, had their approach been remarked by any of the inmates of the house.

Gloom seemed to brood over the place. So silent was it that it might have been uninhabited.

"If I had not been assured that Sir Richard is at home, I should not have thought so," remarked Atherton. "The house has not a very cheerful or hospitable air."

"Luckily, the drawbridge is down, or we might have been kept on the wrong side of the moat," remarked the sergeant. "My advice is that we enter the fort before we are discovered, or we may never get in at all."

Acting upon the counsel, Atherton put spurs to his horse and rode up to the house, which did not look a whit more cheerful as he approached it, and without halting to ring the bell, dashed across the drawbridge, passed through the open gateway and entered the court-yard, which to the young man's great surprise did not look so neglected as the exterior of the mansion had led him to anticipate.

The noise they made on entering the court-yard seemed to have roused the inmates from the sleep into which they had apparently been plunged. An old butler, followed by a couple of footmen, came out of the house, and with evident alarm depicted in his countenance, requested to know their business.

"Our business is with Sir Richard Rawcliffe," replied Atherton. "We must see him immediately."

"I do not think Sir Richard will see you, gentlemen," replied the butler. "He is much fatigued. I will deliver any message to him with which you may charge me."

"We must see him," cried the sergeant, authoritatively. "We come from the prince."

The butler no longer hesitated, but assuming a deferential air, said he would at once conduct the gentlemen to his master.

As they had already dismounted, he bade one of the servants take their horses to the stable, and ushered the unwelcome visitors into a large entrance-hall, in which a wood fire was burning.

Remarking that the butler stared at him very hard, Atherton said:

"You look at me as if you had seen me before. Is it so? I have no recollection of you."

"I don't think I have seen you before, sir," replied the man, gravely. "But I have seen some one very like you." Whom shall I announce to Sir Richard?"

"I am Captain Legh," said Atherton. "But there is no necessity to announce me. Conduct me to your master at once."

The butler, though evidently uneasy, did not venture to disobey, but led him to a room that opened out of the hall. The sergeant followed close behind Atherton.

They had been ushered into the library. Sir Richard was writing at a table, but raising his eyes on their entrance, he started up, and exclaimed in an angry voice:

"Why have you brought these persons here, Markland. I told you I would not be disturbed."

"Your servant is not to blame, Sir Richard," interposed Atherton. "I insisted upon seeing you. I am sent to bring you to the prince."