The Young Apprentice; or, The Watch-Words of Old London — page 168: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE WATOHWORDS OF OLD LONDON. 16] -ing the lamp. ‘‘ And now, your majesty, are you ready f” “T am,” said Charles; “but tell me,”’ he added, suspiciously, “are yon alone in this enterprise 7” “JT have twenty good men and true with me.” “None of my court ?—none of my friends ?’’ “ Yes, sire, Lord Stantonbridge commands the troopers; Sir Percival Heatherdale and Lord Milman are here; and many others. Why do you hesitate, sire? Can you suspect me of treason /” ‘‘ Alas! I know not who is a traitor since I am one myself, according to my worthy judges. Lead on—I follow.” They reached the window. All was darkness now; but they could see the struggling mass below, and hear their cries and the clash of their weapons. Just as Lord Raymond was about to atep ont, a dark form rose up between him and the sky. “Whom have we here?” cried Raymond. “Tg it you. Stantonbridge ?”’ “No, It is Colonel Harpenden—a true friend of England. What, ho! there within.” “We are surprised,” cried Raymond, striving in vain to beat back the intruder, His words were true. In another instant the room was full of light and a score of Puritan soldiers poured ia. ‘Cat him down and fly, your majesty,”’ cried Lord Raymond, among whose villanies the spirit of loyalty was yet triumphant, “No,” said Charles, firmly, “no; no more life shall be lost through me. This is my last attempt at escape.” Quelf and his employer were the next moment prisoners. ‘*‘ Gentlemen,” said Charles, to Colonel Har- penden and his followers, “let thia friend of mine go, and this poorservitor of hie. If he has done wrong set it down to his fooliah regerd for my person and nothing more,”’ “Tregret, your majesty,” returned Colonel Harpenden, coldly, “that it is not in my power to grant your request. The very fact of his wearing a mask is a proof that he has no desire to be seen, Ie is, doubtless, some traitor to our cause.” “I¢ may be so,” said the king, “but, as I aaid before, it is his affection far me which has ied him into this error. Let me suffer, not him.” The colonel bowed. “ As I before told your majesty, it is not in my power to set these persons free,’’ he replied. Then, turning to the soldiers, he said, “These are your prisoners, take them to the Round Tower.” In a few minutes more the window was closed, the tramp of soldiers died away and the king was again in the custody of a watcher. “Your majesty,” said the man, pointing to the blood on the floor—the blood of the alain trooper, “ your majesty, murder has been done. Save me from my friends, say I, if they help me in this way.” The king now once more retired to bed. Bat not to rest. Before his eyes floated dismal visions— dis- mal, gloomy, indistinct visions of hideous deeds ; and, as a finale, a scene of execution, in which the faces of the executioner and the victim were both concealed. 2278 ngs the form of the latter was familiar to mM. It was his own ! Meanwhile, Quelf and Lord Raymond were conducted to a dark, cold, stone chamber be- neath the ground. “ My friend,” said the latter, to one of the guard who was left with them, “are my fellows all taken ?” “I do not know.” “Qan you ascertain 7?” “No. You will know better when your trial comes on.” * And when will that be ?” * To-morrow, at daybreak," “So soon? Cannot I communicate with Cromwell ?” “ There will be no time,” returned the solemn Puritan, “ We give short shrift to traitors here.” “We are no traitora. We came here,” said Raymond, as a sudden idea occurred to him, “we came here to convey the king to London. Cromwell is our friend. There will be a short shrift to any one who executes, without his ordera, one of his best soldiars.”’ “ And this misshapen wretch, here; is he, too, ' a friend of our great commander?” said the man, sneeringly. “ He is a known and tried servant.” “Then,” returned the trooper, “be assured that if you are friends of Cromwell, your trial will be secret, yeur execution secret, your burial secret, and no one will know of your fate.” “Then we are in g nest of Royalists!’ cried Raymond; “and the king has betrayed us |” “ No,” answered the man, “no; you are not among Royalists, but among men who fancy that sometimes Cromweli truste the wrong persons. At any rate, make your peace with Heaven, for to-morrow morning you will have no time left to you for preparation.” In this conversation Quelf did not joia. He sat moodily by the fire, looking at the flames, and grinning malignantly at the thought that if de suffered there would be one in London, who, however innocent, would suffer a hideous death as a kind of sacritice to his shade ! CHAPTER XXIL QUELF'S8 HOME—THE NEGRO GIRL—THE INNER CHAMBER — THE CAPTIVE — STARVATION | —THE WAIL OF DISTRESS ![—THE LOVELY SUFFERER—THB VOICES OF FRIENDS—THE ATTACK ON THE APPRENTICES—AN ENEMY ONCE MORE. WHEN Quelf carried Nelly Dyser fainting and terrified from the house of her father, where so many hideous scenes had been shown to her, he placed her into a boat, and, with his blood- stained companions, rowed away towards the old house by the river, which he had selected for his home. The house was half in ruins. ; It was originally the dwelling-place of a miller, and the shattered remains ef the mill, with its ragged arms and huge broken wheel, could still be seen, though the birds were now the only occupants of it. A few rooms, undestroyed by shot and fire, still remained on the ground floor, while u above one solitary chamber was yet sheltere from the winda, us ~ Bae “Sey ay 9 X GOhVCEIOO O1KSECO eS