How vividly he recalled every glance and graceful action of Lilian, as he had last beheld her. Nearest and dearest to his heart, she rendered the memory of his native land still more beloved, for she yet trod its soil and breathed its air, and he knew that daily she could gaze on those blue hills which are the first landmarks of the child in youth, and the last of the man in age, and to the recollection of which the emigrant and the exile cling with the tenacity of life.
The current of his thoughts was interrupted, and his cheek flushed. The great and striking brick façade of the old castle of St. Germains, with its turrets shining in the setting sun, arose before him. There dwelt he on whom the hopes of half a nation rested, and Walter drew breath more freely as he progressed; his eye sparkled, and his cheek flushed with animation, for now other and less painful thoughts were occurring to his fancy. With the buoyancy natural to youth, sorrow gave way as hope spread its rainbow before him: and bright visions of the King's triumphant return and restoration by the swords of the Cavaliers or Jacobites, mingled with his own dreams of love and honour. Fired with ardour, he often grasped his sword, and springing forward, longed to throw himself at the foot of James VII., and pour forth in transport that singularly deep and burning passion of loyalty which animated every member of his faction.
"And this is the palace of our King!" he exclaimed, with enthusiasm. "Heaven grant I may yet greet him in his old ancestral dome of Holyrood!" But the fever of his naturally excitable spirits subsided when approaching the edifice, for the air of silence and gloom that pervaded it struck a chill on his anxious heart.
"Ah," thought he, "if James should be dead!"
At the distance of twelve miles from Paris, this ancient brick chateau or palace is beautifully situated on the slope of a verdant hill, at the base of which flows the Seine, and opposite lies an immense forest. From the earliest ages, St. Germain-en-laye had been a hunting-seat of the French kings; but in compliment to his mistress, whose name was Diana, Francis I. (a monarch unequalled in gallantry, generosity, and magnificence) built the present palace in form of the letter D, with five towers, the vanes of which were gleaming like gold in the setting sun as Walter approached. A dry fosse crossed by drawbridges surrounded this noble chateau, which had on one side a range of beautiful arcades built by Henry IV. and Louis XIII., and a magnificent terrace 2,700 yards long and 50 broad, extending by the side of the dark-green forest, and from which, as our exile traversed it, he had a full view of the Seine winding through a beautiful country, bordered on each side by waving meadows, vineyards of the deepest green, and cornfields of the brightest yellow, villages of white cottages thatched with light-coloured straw, that clustered round the turreted chateaux or the ramparted châtelets of a noblesse that were then the most aristocratic in Europe.