Seeing Madam Everard’s anxiety, he offered in spite of the rain to mount a horse and gallop off to ascertain whether the royal party were coming or not. His offer was accepted, and he was soon galloping away through the street of Lynderton on the high road to Lyndhurst, by which it was expected the King would come. He met on his way an open carriage and four horses, full, as it seemed to him, of old women wrapped up in red cloaks and hoods, such as were worn by the peasantry. He had got to the turnpike kept by an old woman, Mammy Pocock by name, when he inquired whether the royal family had come by.
“Why, bless you, yes; that be they,” said the old woman, pointing along the road. “They stayed in here ever so long, but at last they thought Madam Everard would be waiting for them, and so they borrowed my cloak, and they sent out, and borrowed as many cloaks and shawls as could be found in all the cottages near. It was curious to see the Queen and princesses laughing as they put them on.”
Harry was going to hurry back with the news, when he saw a party of four or five horsemen coming along the road. By this time the rain had somewhat ceased. He drew up on one side to see who the strangers were. He had little difficulty in recognising in the old gentleman who rode first with his coat buttoned up, but without any great coat, the King of England. Sir George Rose and two or three other gentlemen accompanied his Majesty. One of them, apparently, was urging him to stop at the tollgate, and dry his clothes.
“A little wet won’t hurt a man! a little wet won’t hurt a man!” answered the King. “The sun will soon come out, and answer the purpose better than a fire.”
As Harry knew that the Queen would arrive at Stanmore before he could get there, and that the King would be delayed for some time at Lynderton he followed the cavalcade at a respectful distance.
As they reached the entrance of the town the rain altogether ceased, and the sun shone forth, and shouts of welcome rent the air, and the band played a joyous tune, and the Mayor and the whole corporation in state came forth to welcome his Majesty, and to accompany him to the entrance of the town-hall. He there was ushered up, and led to a seat at the farther end, where he graciously received an address from the mayor, who, with the members of the corporation, were formally introduced.
Conspicuous at the other end of the room was a gaunt personage in scarlet robes trimmed with yellow fringe, bearing in his hand an enormous gilt club, so it looked.
“Who is that?” asked the King, eyeing the figure with a comical expression.
“That’s our mace-bearer, your Majesty, Jedidiah Pike.”
Jedidiah Pike, hearing his name announced, supposed that he was summoned, and advanced up the room. Overcome, however, by his feelings, and awe at finding himself in the presence of majesty, down he went on his knees, mace and all, and prostrated himself at the King’s feet, while, looking up with an expression of the most intense reverence, he endeavoured to kiss the hand of majesty.
“Get up, man! get up!” exclaimed the King, scarcely refraining his laughter, “I am not the Grand Seignior nor a three-tailed Basha. Get up, get up, man, and you shall kiss my hand, if it pleases you.” The King could restrain his laughter no longer, and gave way to a hearty cachination, in which his attendants, and even the mayor and corporation of Lynderton, heartily joined, greatly to the confusion of poor Pike, who retreated backwards, very nearly tumbling over his own gown as he endeavoured to escape from the royal presence. During the remainder of the ceremony, the King every two minutes gave way to another hearty laugh, and as he descended the stairs to mount his horse, he looked round, and again inquired for his friend Pike.
The King rode on as before, attended by the few gentlemen who had come with him from Lyndhurst, the populace following at a respectful distance. While he rode on, either side was lined with eager spectators, who gave forth with cheerful voices reiterated welcomes. The king nodded kindly, thanking the people now and then in words as he rode on.
Harry galloped on by a path he knew across the country, and the Colonel was in readiness to receive his royal guest on his arrival.
Meantime, the guests who had been invited to the fête on the lawn arrived from all quarters, while the breakfast-room which overlooked it had been prepared for the royal family. They dined alone – the Colonel and the ladies of his family, aided by Lady Tryon, attending on them. Lady Tryon was delighted at being invited by the Queen to attend on her. She made herself especially agreeable, and took the opportunity of introducing her grandson to their Majesties.
Harry behaved remarkably well under circumstances so novel to him, and Mabel, at all events, thought that she had never seen him looking so handsome.
“He would make a charming page,” Lady Tryon whispered in her ear; “I must try and get their Majesties to take him.”
Meantime the sky had cleared, the sun shone forth brightly. The guests were soon seen in their gayest costumes crossing the lawn to the tents, the band struck up and played the most joyous tunes, and the King came to the window and clapped his hands with delight.
It was pleasant to see their Majesties mixing among the crowd, and talking familiarly to many of the guests. Several the King recognised; among others, Sir James Wallace, and his friend, General Perkins. Upwards of an hour was thus passed, when one of the gentlemen-in-waiting suggested to his Majesty that unless they soon commenced their homeward ride it would be dark before they could reach Lyndhurst. The Queen and princesses had already retired, as they purposed returning by the road they came.
“We must restore her cloak to Dame Pocock,” observed the Queen, “and other friends who were kind enough to lend them to us.”
The King, however, purposed riding across the forest by a shorter cut, and through much beautiful woodland scenery. Harry held the King’s horse, while Colonel Everard assisted him to mount.
“Ah!” said his Majesty, shaking the Colonel by the hand, “I am a happy King to be able thus to ride through a forest with only three or four unarmed attendants. Is there another sovereign in Europe that could do the same? I wot not, Colonel.”
“Perhaps this young gentleman would like to accompany us,” said one of the gentlemen-in-waiting, turning to the Colonel. “I know my way across the forest, but he probably is better acquainted with the paths on this side of it, and may somewhat shorten our ride. I am anxious to get the King home again lest his Majesty should have suffered by remaining so long in his damp clothes.”
Harry was soon on horseback and galloping along to overtake the royal party. Every path and glade in that part of the forest was well known to him, and he was thus able to conduct the King, not only by shorter paths, but to show him some especial bits of woodland scenery. The King was much pleased, and complimented Harry on his taste. Whole troops of deer were seen coming in from all directions towards a keeper’s lodge, where they were accustomed to assemble every evening to be fed.
“A pity to shoot such beautiful creatures,” said the King; “this forest should be their own. If I had to frame new forest laws I should certainly let the deer benefit by them. What say you, young gentleman?”
Harry had to confess he had no objection to ride after a stag with a pack of hounds, nor indeed to exercise his skill as a marksman on a fat buck.
The King laughed.
“We must not be too much guided by our feelings,” he observed.
The King conversed constantly with Harry during the ride, and told him that he hoped to see him again. The young man bowed low as they reached Lyndhurst, and it is not surprising that his spirits should have been somewhat elated at the honour which had been done him. He turned his horse, and galloped quickly over the soft turf back again towards Stanmore, eager to report the safe arrival of the King, and, it is possible, to enjoy another dance with Mabel. She was not less well pleased than he was with the honour the King had done him, and it is not surprising that the young people should have thereon built up a somewhat lofty castle in the air, vapoury and changeable, as such castles invariably are. Lady Tryon was still more pleased. Her grandson had achieved a success. She saw him in imagination basking in the smiles of royalty, and obtaining the advantages