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Updated: May 25, 2025
It was while this news was going round that Sunderland in a moment of panic at last vouchsafed an answer to Mr. Wilding's letters, and he vouchsafed it in person, just as Wilding particularly since Disney's arrest was beginning to lose all hope. He came one evening to Mr.
"From our correspondents at Neuchatel, I think, sir. The letter has got the Swiss postmark." The words, "The Swiss Postmark," following so soon upon the housekeeper's reference to Switzerland, wrought Mr. Wilding's agitation to such a remarkable height, that his new partner could not decently make a pretence of letting it pass unnoticed.
One was my fair unknown, the other a lady whom I have occasionally seen, and whom I take to be Wilding's cousin, though this is all guess-work. Whether she is or not, she is evidently a very unpleasant sort of body, for, whatever she said, the other was plainly exceedingly vexed and mortified. She covered her face with her hands. At one time she made a movement as if to leave.
"Walters, you rascal, light Sir Rowland to the door." Poor Blake went home deeply vexed; but it was no more than the beginning of his humiliation at Mr. Wilding's hands for what can be more humiliating to a quarrel seeking man than to have his enemy refuse to treat him seriously? He and Mr.
"With my friend Trenchard at the sign of The Ship, by the Cross." She briefly acknowledged the information, rejoined her mother, and hurried away with her. Trenchard stood staring after them a moment. "Odd!" said he; "did you mark that girl's discomposure?" But Wilding's thoughts were elsewhere. "Come, Nick! If I am to render myself fit to sit at table with Monmouth, we'll need to hasten."
"I am with you," said he. It has fallen to my lot in the course of this veridical chronicle of Mr. Anthony Wilding's connection with the Rebellion in the West, and of his wedding and post-nuptial winning of Ruth Westmacott, to relate certain matters of incident and personality that may be accounted strange. But the strangest yet remains to be related.
But anon, reading the boy's mind as readily as though it had been a scroll unfolded for his instruction, he saw that Westmacott, on the strength of his position as his sister's brother, conceived himself immune. Mr. Wilding's avowed courtship of the lady, the hopes he still entertained of winning her, despite the aversion she was at pains to show him, gave Westmacott assurance that Mr.
For in spite of all that had passed between Sir Rowland Blake and the Westmacotts on that memorable night of Sunday to Monday, on which the battle of Sedgemoor was lost and won, towards the end of that same month of July we find him not only back at Lupton House, but once again the avowed suitor of Mr. Wilding's widow.
"And who betray you to t'is rogue?" "To Westmacott?" cried Blake. "He was in the plot with me. He was left to guard the rear, to see that we were not taken by surprise, and he deserted his post. Had he not done that, there had been no disaster, in spite of Mr. Wilding's intervention." Feversham's brow was dark, his eyes glittered as they rested on the traitor. "T'at true, sare?" he asked him.
His mind turned for a moment in the direction that Trenchard had feared it might. He bethought him of his association with the Monmouth Cause into which he had been beguiled by the sordid hope of gain and of Wilding's important share in that same business.
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