CHAPTER XXV.
THE PARTING AT STONEHENGE.
There stand those grey mysterious circles of stones, that for centurieshave braved the storms that have beaten upon the wide dreary plain onwhich they have been placed--none can tell how, or when. There theystand--stern, solemn, hoar, crusted with lichens, incomprehensible,enigmatical as the Sphinx; muttering tales of days forgotten, and of apeople whose habits, customs, and creed are no longer understood. Sostrange and mysterious are the old stones, that no wonder the wildestfables have been told of them. Some have thought the pile was rearedby magic art, others have deemed it the work of the Evil One, intendedby him as a temple where unhallowed rites might be practised. But bywhatever giant hands the mighty pile was reared, in whatever age andfor whatever purpose--hallowed, or unhallowed--whether as an altar forhuman sacrifice, as a court of justice, or as a place of execution,all is now dim conjecture. There the huge stones stand as of yore, buttheir history is clean forgotten.
Though a couple of centuries are little in the history of Stonehenge,a great change has taken place since Charles visited the wondrousmonument. A change for the worse. The mighty stones are there, but theaspect of the spot is altered. The genius of solitude that brooded overthe pile has fled--fled with the shy bustard that once haunted itsmystic circles, and with the ravens that perched on the stones. Thewide rolling surface of the plain was then wholly uncultivated. Nothingwas to be seen except the clustering barrows, and the banks that markedwhat is now called, with what truth we know not, a Roman cursus.
Charles approached the pile by an avenue edged by grassy banks, gazingwith wonder, not unmixed with awe, at the gigantic circles. As he rodeslowly on he came to a single upright stone, and paused to look at it.
Familiar with the legends of the spot, Careless informed the king thatthe stone was called "The Friar's Heel."
"The tale runs," he said, "that while the Evil One was engaged inconstructing those mysterious circles, a friar passed by, and wasindiscreet enough to make some disparaging remark upon the works.Having done so, he fled. The Demon, in a rage, hurled a huge stoneat him, and grazed his heel, but did not check him. There stands thestone, deeply plunged in the earth, to prove the truth of the legend."
Passing through the outer circle of smaller stones, they dismounted,and fastening up their horses to an obelisk-shaped fragment, surveyedthe mighty ruin, examining the trilithons and monoliths.
"There is a superstition," observed Careless, "that these stones cannotbe counted alike twice."
"I have heard it," replied Charles; "and I remember what Sir PhilipSydney says on the subject:
Near Wilton sweet huge heaps of stones are found. But so confused, that neither any eye Can count them just, nor reason reason try What force them brought to so unlikely ground.
"Let us make the attempt. 'Twill serve to pass the time till ourfriends arrive. Do you think you can count them?" he said to Juliana.
"I will try, my liege," she replied. "Where shall I begin?"
"With the altar-stone," replied Charles.
Juliana then commenced her task, going carefully through the differentcircles, and not pausing till she reached the last stone.
"How many do you make them?" asked Charles.
"Seventy-seven," she replied.
"My reckoning agrees with yours," cried Careless, who had followed her.
"So far good," observed Charles. "But you have not included therecumbent 'slaughtering stone' near the entrance, nor the 'Friar'sHeel' in the avenue, nor the two small stones near the earthen bank.Those will increase the number to eighty-one. Now for the second trial.Start from this stone."
Very carefully Juliana performed her task. When she had reached thealtar-stone, a smile lighted up her charming countenance, and sheexclaimed joyously:
"Seventy-seven! I have counted the stones alike twice--and disprovedthe fable."
After congratulating her on her success, Charles observed:
"I wonder whether a loving pair were ever betrothed at this altar?"
The significance given to the words, and the look that accompaniedthem, made Juliana cast down her eyes.
"'Tis strange that the same thought should have occurred to me,"remarked Careless. "How say you, sweetheart?" he continued, takingJuliana's hand. "Shall we plight our vows here, in his majesty'spresence? You know that duty calls me hence, and that I may be longdetained in France. Let me feel certain I shall not lose you."
"You need not doubt me, Careless," she rejoined, tenderly. "I shallever be constant to you."
They then bent before the king, and Careless, still holding her hand,exclaimed:
"Bear witness, sire, that I solemnly plight my faith to JulianaConingsby."
"And I as solemnly plight my faith to William Careless," she added.
"I cannot pronounce a benediction upon you," said Charles. "But I canbear witness to your betrothal. May your union speedily take place; andwhen it does take place, may you be happy!"
The betrothed pair had just risen, when the trampling of horse washeard.
"They come! they come!" exclaimed the king, joyously. "You were onlyjust in time."
And he hastened to the entrance of the pile.
When he reached the outer circle he perceived Lord Wilmot, accompaniedby Colonel Wyndham and Colonel Philips, galloping towards the spot.With them was a fourth Cavalier, whom he doubted not was Colonel Gunter.
In another minute the party came up, sprang from their steeds, andadvanced towards the king, who could not fail to read good news intheir countenances.
"Welcome, my lord! thrice welcome!" he cried to Lord Wilmot.
"Yes, I bring you good news, my liege," replied his lordship. "But itis for Colonel Gunter to tell it."
Colonel Gunter was then presented to the king, and after making aprofound obeisance, said:
"Your majesty will be pleased to hear that I have succeeded in hiringa vessel at Shoreham to transport you to Dieppe. She is only sixtytons, but a good, stout, well-built bark, and her master, NicholasTattersall, is perfectly honest and loyal. The vessel is laden withsea-coal, and bound for Poole, and Tattersall will at first stand forthe Isle of Wight, but when he has been out at sea for a few hours hewill alter his course, and make for the French coast. The skipper willbe ready to sail as soon as your majesty and your companions reachShoreham. With your permission I will attend you thither."
"This is good news indeed!" cried Charles, transported with delight."All my difficulties and dangers seem now at an end."
"The only difficulties and dangers your majesty has to apprehend mayoccur during our journey to Shoreham," observed Colonel Gunter. "But Itrust we shall avoid them all."
"Yes, sire, I firmly believe the worst is past," said Colonel Wyndham."Providence, who has hitherto watched over you, will guard you on yourjourney, and bring you safely to the coast. You need not fear therepetition of such an untoward circumstance as took place at Lyme.Would I could see you embark, but I should only endanger you if I wentwith you!"
"No, thou hast done enough, Frank," cried the king, patting himaffectionately on the shoulder--"far more than I ever shall be able torequite. We must part here--not for long, I trust. Thou shalt lend methy horse, and take that which I have ridden. He will bear thee andJuliana back to Trent. Fail not to give my adieux to thy most amiablewife, and to thy venerated mother, whom I love as a son!"
He then turned to Juliana, and found that her bright eyes were dimmed.She had just parted with Careless.
"Be of good cheer," he said. "I promise you he shall soon return."
"Your majesty, I fear, promises more than you can perform," she sighed."But I will hope for the best."
"I cannot thank you sufficiently for all you have done for me," hesaid. "But you will always have a place next to Jane Lane in my regard.How I shall prosper when I have lost you both Heaven only knows.Farewell!"
He then pressed her hand to his lips, and springing on the steed fromwhich Colonel Wyndham had just di
smounted, he called to the others tojoin him, and was soon afterwards seen careering at their head acrossSalisbury Plain.
THE END.
LONDON:
WHITING AND CO., 30 & 32, SARDINIA STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS.
Boscobel; or, the royal oak: A tale of the year 1651 Page 106