Julia wore at the time of the fire had been so soiled by dirt and smoke, as to be utterly unfit for use, and she had therefore no alternative but to put on those which were supplied to her by a tire-woman sent for that purpose, although from their style of fashion and splendour they were suited neither to her taste nor her situation. Lady Castlemaine stated the object of her visit, attributed her interference to the solicitations of Mark Walton, eulogised his courage in thus exposing himself to the King's wrath, and perhaps to utter ruin, to effect her liberation, and concluded by urging her to put on her hood and make her escape immediately, as the King would be likely to visit that apartment in the course of the afternoon. Julia needed no second solicitation; she speedily prepared for flight in company with her deliverers; her ladyship's key let them out of the private door of Whitehall Garden into the Park; and such were the circumstances under which their appearance together had excited

such an utter and agonizing astonishment in the mind of Jocelyn.

Julia took leave of Lady Castlemaine with the most fervent thanks for her timely interference, and, escorted by her cousin, proceeded to Turret House, where she hoped to meet her friend Constantia, or at least to gather tidings of her and of her mother; an expectation in which she was not disappointed. Although Mr. Ashmole, who held several places under Government, was still apprehensive of harbouring Mrs. Walton beneath his own roof, he had procured lodgings for her and for Constantia, who was determined to share her fate, in the immediate vicinity. Both were now summoned to Turret House, and the joy of this meeting, after the intense anxiety they had all been suffering since Julia's mysterious disappearance, must be left to the imagination of the reader. Julia presented her cousin to the assemblage as her double deliverer; first, from the balcony, in which she must have inevitably perished, but for his prompt and cou

rageous aid; and secondly, with not inferior peril to himself, from the power and the sinister designs of the King. It will be recollected that this was the day before the trial, when nothing was yet known of his treason to his uncle, and when there was consequently no reason to check those overflowings of gratitude and admiration with which the whole assemblage, and particularly Julia, acknowledged his inestimable

services.

As it was deemed probable that the King might institute some inquiry as to her escape, and even endeavour to recover possession of her, it was suggested that she ought to be immediately removed to a considerable distance from London; a proposition which Mr. Ashmole not only warmly seconded, but mentioned a sequestered residence belonging to a friend of his own, and situated in a beautiful part of Ashdown Forest, in Sussex, which was at that moment to be let, and which would be admirably adapted to their present object of privacy and seclusion.

This retreat Constantia instantly undertook to engage; it was agreed that they should remove to it immediately after the trial; and Mark Walton, having inquired the exact situation of the house, withdrew to prosecute his own nefarious plans.

From the unfortunate state of his mind, as well as from the dreadful fate that would have awaited him had he survived, the friends of Mr Walton were rather disposed to consider his death as a happy deliverance than an event to be deeply deplored. All the suffering and ignominy of a public execution had been avoided, and his widow even viewed the occurrence as a special interference of Providence. Accompanied by Julia and Constantia, she retired in a few days to the sylvan asylum that had been provided for them, where in the tranquillity of the spot, the beauty of the scenery, and in the undisturbed enjoyment of all the solaces to be derived from friendship and religion, they endeavoured to forget the privations they had

suffered, and the agitating events in which they had all been participators. This soothing and peaceful calm was not, however, destined to be of long continuance. Mark Walton had no sooner got a portion of his uncle's estate restored to him, a circumstance on which he mainly relied for success in his overtures to Julia, whom he looked upon as impoverished and even pennyless, than he hastened down to Pippingford Lodge, (for such was the name of their retreat,) and demanded an interview. Mrs. Walton sternly refused to see him, a resolution in which she ever remained inexorable: but Julia, who still imagined herself to be under incalculable obligations to him, did not feel herself warranted in dismissing him unheard. With all the crafty subtlety that cunning could suggest, or falsehood invent, did he endeavour to gloss over his infamy, protesting that he was a most unwilling witness against his uncle, and could not without perjury have acted otherwise than as he did. He then vaunted the high

VOL. III.