He did not know what the message meant at the time, nor what was happening:  which may as well, however, for clearness’ sake, be explained here.  The Prince of Orange being gone to Ireland, where the King was ready to meet him with a great army, it was determined that a great rising of his Majesty’s party should take place in this country; and my lord was to head the force in our county.  Of late he had taken a greater lead in affairs than before, having the indefatigable Mr. Holt at his elbow, and my Lady Viscountess strongly urging him on; and my Lord Sark being in the Tower a prisoner, and Sir Wilmot Crawley, of Queen’s Crawley, having gone over to the Prince of Orange’s side—­my lord became the most considerable person in our part of the county for the affairs of the King.

It was arranged that the regiment of Scots Grays and Dragoons, then quartered at Newbury, should declare for the King on a certain day, when likewise the gentry affected to his Majesty’s cause were to come in with their tenants and adherents to Newbury, march upon the Dutch troops at Reading under Ginckel; and, these overthrown, and their indomitable little master away in Ireland, ’twas thought that our side might move on London itself, and a confident victory was predicted for the King.

As these great matters were in agitation, my lord lost his listless manner and seemed to gain health; my lady did not scold him, Mr. Holt came to and fro, busy always; and little Harry longed to have been a few inches taller, that he might draw a sword in this good cause.

One day, it must have been about the month of July, 1690, my lord, in a great horseman’s coat, under which Harry could see the shining of a steel breastplate he had on, called little Harry to him, put the hair off the child’s forehead, and kissed him, and bade God bless him in such an affectionate way as he never had used before.  Father Holt blessed him too, and then they took leave of my Lady Viscountess, who came from her apartment with a pocket-handkerchief to her eyes, and her gentlewoman and Mrs. Tusher supporting her.  “You are going to—­to ride,” says she.  “Oh, that I might come too—­but in my situation I am forbidden horse exercise.”

“We kiss my Lady Marchioness’s hand,” says Mr. Holt.

“My lord, God speed you!” she said, stepping up and embracing my lord in a grand manner.  “Mr. Holt, I ask your blessing:”  and she knelt down for that, whilst Mrs. Tusher tossed her head up.

Mr. Holt gave the same benediction to the little page, who went down and held my lord’s stirrups for him to mount; there were two servants waiting there too—­and they rode out of Castlewood gate.

As they crossed the bridge, Harry could see an officer in scarlet ride up touching his hat, and address my lord.

The party stopped, and came to some parley or discussion, which presently ended, my lord putting his horse into a canter after taking off his hat and making a bow to the officer, who rode alongside him step for step:  the trooper accompanying him falling back, and riding with my lord’s two men.  They cantered over the Green, and behind the elms (my lord waving his hand, Harry thought), and so they disappeared.  That evening we had a great panic, the cow-boy coming at milking-time riding one of our horses, which he had found grazing at the outer park-wall.