John Lothrop Motley - "The Rise of the Dutch Republic, 1567"

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New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
Book and Publishing News from Publishers Newswire(tm)

Looking for Child to be on Cover of a New Book, 'The Model Child'
PHILADELPHIA, Pa. -- The Philadelphia literary world will celebrate the launch of two new players today, April 10th: Kay Square Press, a new publishing company focused on Philadelphia-area artists, their stories, and their art; and Kay Square's first release, 'With the Rich and Mighty: Emlen Etting of Philadelphia' (ISBN: 978-0-9815129-0-7), a critical biography by Kenneth C. Kaleta.

FlatSigned Press Alleges Don Imus Remarks Damage Legacy of President Gerald R. Ford
NEW YORK, N.Y. -- Nathan Yungerberg, an accomplished model scout and professional child photographer is launching a nation-wide casting call to find the cover model for his highly anticipated book release, 'The Model Child: A Parents Guide to the Child Modeling Industry' (ISBN: 978-0-9817018-0-6).

Books: The King's Highway

G >> G. P. R. James >> The King's Highway




For some hours after the Messenger was sound asleep, and had
forgotten the whole transaction in the arms of slumber, Wilton sat
conversing with the Duke, and endeavouring to draw from him even the
smallest particulars of all that had taken place during the last few
days, with the hope of discovering some probable cause for the event.
The Duke, however, though disposed to be communicative towards Wilton
on most subjects, showed a shyness of approaching anything connected
with the meeting in Leadenhall-street.

It was evident, indeed, that all his suspicions turned upon Sir John
Fenwick, and he admitted that a violent quarrel had occurred after
the meeting; but he showed so evident an inclination to avoid
entering into the subject farther, that Wilton in common delicacy
could not press him. Finding it in vain to seek any more information
in that quarter, Wilton at length retired to rest, but sleep came not
near his eyelids. He now lay revolving all that had occurred,
endeavouring to extract from the little that was really known some
light, however faint, to lead to farther discovery. In the darkness
of the night, imagination, too, came in, and pictured a thousand
vague but horrible probabilities regarding the fate of the beautiful
girl with whom he had so lately walked in sweet companionship on the
very terrace from which it appeared that she had been violently taken
away. Fancy had wide range to roam, both in regard to the objects of
those who had carried her off, to the place whither they had borne
her, and to the probability of ever recovering her or not. But Fancy
stopped not there--she suggested doubts to Wilton's mind as to the
fact of her having been carried off at all. The terrible apprehension
that she might, by some accident, have fallen into the river returned
upon him. The feet-marks upon the gravel, he thought, might very
naturally have been produced by the servants in their first search;
and it was not at all improbable that some one of them, thinking that
his young mistress had fallen into the water, might have placed his
foot upon the gunwale of the barge to lean forward for a clearer view
of the river under the terrace.

As he thought of all these things, and tortured his heart with
apprehensions, the conviction came upon the mind of Wilton, that,
notwithstanding every difference of station, and the utter
hopelessness of love in his case, Laura had become far, far dearer to
him than any other being upon earth; had produced in his bosom
sensations such as he had never known before; sensations which were
first discovered fully in that hour of pain and anxiety, and which,
alas! promised but anguish and disappointment for the years to come.

There was, nevertheless, something fascinating in the conviction,
which, once admitted, he would not willingly have parted with; and it
gradually led his thoughts to what Lord Sherbrooke had told him
concerning his own fate and family. That information, indeed, brought
him but little hope in the present case, though we should speak
falsely were we to assert that it brought him no hope. The gleam was
faint, and doubting that it would last, he tried voluntarily to
extinguish it in his own heart. He called to mind how many there
were, whose families, engaged in the late troubles during the reigns
of Charles and James, had never been able to raise themselves again,
but had sunk into obscurity, and died in poverty and exile. He
recollected how many of them and of their children had been driven to
betake themselves to the lowest, and even the most criminal courses;
and he bethought him, that if he were the child of any of these, he
might think himself but too fortunate in having obtained an inferior
station which gave him competence at least. The cloud might never be
cleared away from his fate; and he recollected, that even if it were
so, there was but little if any chance of his obtaining, with every
advantage, that which he had learned to desire even without hope. He
knew that the Duke was a proud man, proud of his family, proud of his
wealth, proud of his daughter, proud of his rank, and that he had
judged it even a very great condescension to consent to a marriage
between his daughter and the son of the Earl of Byerdale, a nobleman
of immense wealth, vast influence, most ancient family, and one who,
from his power in the counsels of his sovereign, might, in fact, be
considered the prime minister of the day. He knew, I say, that the
Duke had considered his consent as a very great condescension; and he
had remarked that very night, that Laura's father, even in the midst
of his grief and anxiety, had made the Earl feel, by his whole tone
and manner, that in the opinion of the Duke of Gaveston there was a
vast distinction between himself and the Earl of Byerdale. What
chance was there, then, he asked himself, for one without any
advantages, even were the happiest explanation to be given to the
mystery of his own early history?

Thus passed the night, but before daylight on the following morning
he was up and dressed; and, accompanied by the Messenger, he went
down the river with two watermen; both of whom declared that they had
seen the covered barge pass down at the very hour of Lady Laura's
disappearance, and had heard sounds as if from the voice of a person
in distress.

We shall not follow Wilton minutely on his search, as not a little of
our tale remains to be told. Suffice it to say, that from Chelsea to
Woolwich he made inquiries at every wharf and stairs, examined every
boat in the least like that which had been seen, and spoke with every
waterman whom he judged likely to give information; but all in vain.
At that time almost every nobleman and gentleman in London, as well
as all merchants, who possessed any ready means of access to the
Thames, had each a private stairs down to the river, with his barge,
which was neither more nor less than a large covered boat, somewhat
resembling a Venetian gondola, but much more roomy and comfortable.

Thus the inquiries of Wilton and the Messenger occupied a
considerable space of time, and the day was far spent when they
turned again at Woolwich, and began to row up the stream. Wilton, on
his part, felt inclined to land, and, hiring a horse, to proceed to
the Duke's house with greater rapidity--but the Messenger shook his
head, saying, "No, no, sir: that wont do. We must go through the same
work all over again up the river. There's quite a different set of
people at the water-side in the morning and in the evening. We are
much more likely to hear tidings this afternoon than we were in the
early part of the day."

Wilton saw the justice of the man's remark, and acquiesced readily.
But he did so only to procure for himself, as it turned out, a bitter
and painful addition to the apprehensions which already tormented
him. In passing London bridge, one of the heavy barges used in the
conveyance of merchandise was seen moored at a little distance below
the bridge, and in the neighbourhood of the fall. A great number of
men were in her, rolling up various ropes and grappling irons, while
a personage dressed as one of the city officers appeared at their
head. Ile was directing them at the moment to unmoor the barge, and
bring her to one of the wharfs again; but the boatmen of Wilton's
boat, without any orders, immediately rowed up to the barge, and the
Messenger inquired what the officer and his comrades were about.

The officer, who seemed to know him, replied at once, "Why, Mr.
Arden, we are dragging here to see if we can get hold of the boat or
any of the bodies that went down last night."

"Ay, Smith," replied the Messenger, "what boat was that? I haven't
heard of it."

"Why, some stupid fools," replied the officer, "dropping down the
river in a barge about half-past eight last night, tried to shoot the
arch at half tide, struck the pier, got broadside on at the fall, and
of course capsized and went down. If it had been a wherry, the boat
would have floated, but being a covered barge, and all the windows
shut, she went down in a minute, and there she sticks; but we can't
well tell where, though I saw the whole thing happen with my own
eyes."

"Did you see who was in the barge?" demanded the Messenger.

"I saw there were three men in her," the officer replied, "but I
couldn't see their faces or the colour of their clothes, for it was
very dark; and if it had not been for the two great lamps at the
jeweller's on the bridge, I should not have seen so much as I did. We
are going home now, for we have not light to see; but we got up one
of the bodies, drifted down nearly half a mile on the Southwark side
there."

"Was it a man or a woman?" demanded Wilton, eagerly.

"A man, sir," replied the officer. "It turns out to be Jones, the
waterman by Fulham."

Wilton did not speak for a moment, and the Messenger was struck, and
silent likewise. When they recovered a little, however, they
explained to the officer briefly the object of their search upon the
river, and he was easily induced to continue dragging at the spot
where he thought the boat had disappeared. He was unsuccessful,
however; and, after labouring for about half an hour, the total
failure of light compelled them to desist without any farther
discovery. Wilton then landed with the Messenger; and with his brain
feeling as if on fire, and a heart wrung with grief, he rode back, as
soon as horses could be procured, to carry the sad tidings which he
had obtained to Laura's father.



CHAPTER XX.

A spirit--though rather of a better kind than that which drags too
many of our unfortunate countrymen into the abodes of wickedness and
corruption, now called Gin Pal--es, so liberally provided for them in
the metropolis--abodes licensed and patronised by the government for
the temptation of the lower orders of the populace to commit and
harden themselves in the great besetting vice of this country--a
spirit, I say, of a better kind than this, drags me into a house of
public entertainment, called the Nag's Head, in St. James's Street.

The Nag's Head, in St. James's Street!!!

Now, though nobody would be in the least surprised to have read or
heard of the Nag's Head in the Borough, yet there is probably not a
single reader who will see this collocation of the "Nag's Head" with
"St. James's Street" without an exclamation, or at least a feeling of
surprise, at it being possible there should ever have been such a
thing in St. James's Street at all--that is to say, not a nag's head,
either horsically or hobbyhorsically speaking, but tavernistically;
for be it known to all men, that the Nag's Head here mentioned was an
inn or tavern actually in the very middle of the royal and
fashionable street called St. James's. One might write a whole
chapter upon the variations and mutations of the names of inns, and
inquire curiously whether their modification in various places and at
various times depends merely upon fashion, or whether it is produced
by some really existing but latent sympathy between peculiar names,
as applied to inns, and particular circumstances, affecting
localities, times, seasons, and national character.

Having already touched upon this subject, however, though with but a
slight and allusive sentence or two, in reference to our friend the
Green Dragon, and being at this moment pressed for time and room, we
shall say no more upon the subject here, but enter at once into the
Nag's Head, and lead the reader by the hand to the door of a certain
large apartment, which, at about half-past nine o'clock, on the night
we have just been speaking of, was well nigh as full as it could
hold.

The people whom it contained were of various descriptions, but most
of them were gentlemanly men enough in their appearance, and these
were ranged round little tables in parties of five or six, or
sometimes more. It cannot, indeed, be said that their occupations
were particularly edifying. Dice, backgammon-boards, and cards were
spread on many of the tables; punch smoked around with a very
fragrant odour; and whatever might have been the nature of the
conversation in general, the oaths and expletives, with which it was
interlarded from time to time, spoke not very well for either the
morality or the eloquence of our ancestors: for such, indeed, I must
call these gentlemen, forming as they did part of the great ancestral
body of a hundred and fifty years ago; though I devoutly hope and
pray that none of my own immediate progenitors happened to be amongst
the number there assembled. The smell of punch and other strong drink
was, to the atmosphere of the place, exactly what the dissolute and
swaggering air of a great number of the persons assembled there was
to the natural expression of the human countenance. The noise, too,
was very great; so that the ear of a new comer required to become
accustomed to it before he could hear anything that was taking place.

Gradually, however, as habit reconciled the visitor to the din, the
oaths and objurgations, together with the words "cheat, liar, knave,"
&c. &c., separated themselves from the rest of the conversation, and
swam like a sort of scum upon the top of the buzz. Though all were
met there for enjoyment, too, it is worthy of remark, that many of
the countenances around bore strong marks of fierce and angry
passions, disappointment, hatred, revenge; and many a flushed cheek
and flashing eye told the often-told tale, that in the amusements
which man devises for himself he is almost always sure to mingle a
sufficient quantity of vice to bring forth a plentiful return of
sorrow.

While all this was proceeding in full current, the door, which opened
with a weight and pulley, rattled and squeaked as it was cast back,
and our often-mentioned friend Green--or the Colonel, as he was
called--entered the room. Giving a casual glance around him, he
proceeded to the other end of the saloon, where there was a small
table vacant, and called in a loud but slow voice for a pint of
claret. Whether this was his habit, or whether it was merely an
accidental compliance with the tavern etiquette of taking something
in the house which we visit, the claret was brought to him instantly,
as if it had been ready prepared, together with a large glass of the
kind now called a tumbler, and a single biscuit.

Green took no notice of any one in the room, for some minutes, but
ate the biscuit and drank the claret in two drafts of half a pint at
a time. When this was done, he gazed round him gravely and
thoughtfully; after which he walked up to one of the tables where
some people were playing at hazard, and spoke a word or two across it
to the man who was holding the dice-box. The man looked up with a
frank smile, and for his only reply nodded his head, saying, "In five
minutes, Colonel."

Green then went on to the next table, and spoke in the same low voice
to a person on the left-hand side, but the man looked down doggedly,
shrugged his shoulders, and said, "I can't leave my game now,
Colonel. If you had told me half an hour ago, it might have been
different."

"Oh! you are very busy in your game, are you?" said Green. "And so I
suppose are you," he added, turning to another who was sitting at the
same table.

That man answered also in the same tone; and Green, muttering to
himself "Very well!" went on to two more tables at little distances
from each other, from one of which only, he received a nod in answer
to what he said, with the words, "Directly, Colonel--directly."

He was just going on to another, when the door again opened, and a
tall, graceful young man, APPARENTLY of one or two and twenty years
of age, entered the room, and advanced towards the table which Green
had left vacant. His whole manner and appearance was totally
different from that of the persons by whom the room had been
previously tenanted, and a number of inquiring eyes were naturally
turned towards him. Green looked him full in the face without taking
the slightest notice; nor did the stranger show any sign of remarking
him, except by brushing against him as he passed, and then turning
round and begging his pardon, while at the same time he laid the
finger of his right hand upon a diamond ring which he wore upon the
little finger of the left. He then advanced straight to the vacant
table, as we have said, and sat down, looking towards a drawer who
stood at the other end of the room, and saying--

"Bring me some claret."

At the same moment, Green advanced to the table, and bowing his head
with the air and grace of a distinguished gentleman, said--

"I beg your pardon, sir, for saying that this is my table; but there
is perfectly room at it for us both, and if you will permit me the
honour, I will join you in your wine. Shall we say a bottle of good
Burgundy, which will be better than cold claret on this chilly
night?"

"With all my heart," replied Wilton Brown, for we need hardly tell
the reader that it was he who had last entered the room at the Nag's
Head; and Green, turning to the drawer, said, "This gentleman and I
will take a bottle of Burgundy. Let it be that which the landlord
knows of."

"I understand, sir--I understand," replied the drawer, "last Monday
night's;" and Wilton and his companion were soon busily discussing
their wine, and talking together, upon various indifferent things, in
a voice which could be heard at the neighbouring tables. Green spoke
with ease and grace, and had altogether so much the tone of a
well-bred man of the world, that he might have passed for such in the
highest society in the realm. Wilton found the task a more difficult
one, for his mind was eagerly bent upon other subjects. He laboured
to play his part to the best, however; and Green, laughing, showed
him how to drink his wine out of goblets, as he called it; so that
the matter was brought to a conclusion sooner than he had ventured to
hope.

As the bottle drew to its close, Green took an opportunity of saying,
in a low voice, "Come with me when I go out."

Wilton answered in the same tone, "Must you not make some excuse?"

"Oh, I will show you one--I will show you one!" exclaimed Green,
aloud--"if you have never seen one, I will show you one within five
minutes from this time. I have but to speak a word to some of my
friends at these different tables, and then you shall come with me."

This was heard all through the room; and Wilton seeing that the
excuse was already made, said no more, but, "Very well, I am ready
when you like."

Green then rose, and went round those to whom he had before spoken,
addressing each of them again in the same order.

"I will meet you, Harry," he said to the first, who had so readily
made an affirmative answer, "in three quarters of an hour. Don't be
longer, my good fellow, if you can help it. Master Williamson," he
added, when he came up to the other, speaking in as low a tone as
possible, "I think you would have given up your game at cards, if you
had known what I had to tell you and Davis there, opposite."

There was something dark and meaning in Green's look as he spoke, a
knitting of the brows, a drawing together of the eyelids, and a tight
shutting of the mouth between every three or four words, which made
the man turn a little white.

"Why, what is the matter, Colonel?" he said, in a much civiler tone
than before. "Cannot you tell me now?"

"Oh, yes," replied Green, in the same low tone, "I can tell you now,
if you like. It is no great matter: only that there are warrants out
against you and Davis; and against Ingram there at the other table,
for robbing the Earl of Peterborough last night in the Green Lane,
behind Beaufort House. They have got hold of Jimmy Law, poor fellow,
already, and he will be hanged to a certainty. It was discovered who
you all were by Harry Brown, who was one of your party when you went,
without my knowledge, to do business between Gravesend and Rochester.
He's one of my Lord Peterborough's led captains now, and was in the
carriage with him, though you didn't see him to know him. He gave all
your names, and they have sent down to the Green Dragon after you,
and have also people on the Rochester road. Tell Davis, and I will
tell Ingram; for it is better you should all get out of the way for
awhile."

This was said in so low a tone, that none of those around could hear
distinctly; but the worthy gentleman to whom the words were addressed
did not seem near so cautious as the Colonel; for, after having
suffered his eyes and his mouth to expand gradually with a look of
increasing horror at every word, he started up from the table as
Green concluded, exclaiming, "By--!" and dashed the cards down upon
the board before him, scattering one half of them over the floor.
Green gave him one momentary look of sovereign contempt, and then
proceeded to the opposite table, where he told the same story to the
personage named Ingram, whose attention had been called by the
vehement excitement of his comrade. The effect now produced seemed
fully as deep, though not quite so demonstrative; for Master Ingram
sat in profound silence at the table for at least five minutes, with
his face assuming various hues of purple and green, as he revolved
the matter in his own mind.

It is probable, that very seldom any three men, except three sailors,
have ever thought so much of a rope at the same moment; and before
Green could finish his tour round the room and rejoin Wilton, those
to whom he had spoken were all hastening up St. James's Street as
fast as they could go. Green returned to the table where he had been
seated, called the drawer to receive the money for the Burgundy, and
then bowing his head to Wilton, with somewhat of a stiff' air, he
said, "Now, sir, if you please, I am ready to show you the way; and
as I have not much time-"

"I am quite ready," replied Wilton; and turning to the door, he and
Green left the house together, while those who remained behind,
immediately they were gone, gathered into two or three little knots,
discussing the scene which had just taken place.

In the meantime, Green led Wilton into St. James's Square, the centre
of which was not at that time enclosed, as now, by iron railings; and
walking to and fro there, he demanded eagerly what was the matter,
and heard with surprise all that his young companion had to tell him
of the sudden disappearance of the Duke's daughter, of which he had
previously received no intelligence.

We need not recapitulate the whole of Wilton's account to the reader;
but will only add, to that which is already known, one fact of some
importance with which the young gentleman concluded the detail of his
inquiries during that very day.

"When I arrived at Beaufort House," he said, "fully and painfully
impressed with the notion that this poor young lady was drowned, I
was met by the Duke at the very door of his library with a letter in
his hand. His eyes were full of tears of joy, for the news of a boat
having been lost had, by this time, reached him; and the letter,
which was dated from a distant part of the country, informed him of
his daughter's safety, in these words:-'Lady Laura Gaveston will be
restored to Beaufort House as soon as her father can make up his mind
to behave with spirit and patriotism, and follow out the only plans
which can save his country. This must be done by actions, not by
words; but a positive engagement under his hand will be considered
sufficient. In the meantime, she remains a hostage for his good
faith.' At the bottom was written, in a hand which he says is that of
Lady Laura herself--'My dear father, I am well; but this is all
they will let me write.'"

"Whence was it dated?" demanded Green sharply.

"Newbury," replied Wilton; "and the letter was brought by a person
who spoke with a foreign accent."

"This is strange," said Green: "I should think it was some of that
troop of--I know not well whether to call them villains or madmen. I
should think some of them had done this, were it not that I had seen
them all--I may say all the principal ones--last night, and they
certainly had not a woman with them then."

"The Duke's suspicions turn principally upon Sir John Fenwick," said
Wilton.

"It could not well be him," replied Green: "he was there, and none
but men with him. It is very strange! I wish I could see that letter.
Perhaps I might recognise the hand."

"That is evidently feigned," answered Wilton; "but I should think the
date of Newbury must be false, too."

"To be sure, to be sure," replied Green--"the exact reverse most
likely. They must have taken her towards the sea, not
inland--Newbury!--More likely towards Rochester or Sheerness; yet I
can't think there was any woman there. Yet stay a minute, Wilton,"
he continued, "stay a minute. I expect tidings to-night, from the
very house at which I met them last night. There is a chance, a bare
chance, of there being something on this matter in the letters; it is
worth while to see, however. Where can I find you in ten minutes from
this time ?-I saw the boy waiting near the palace when we came out."