Part 57 (2/2)
”Oh, sir, what are you going to do?” she shrieked. ”He is my father.”
The guilty innkeeper's lips were quivering, and the white portions in his face were gradually increasing, to the exclusion of the red, for the steps of the soldiers on the stairs brought vividly before his eyes the scene of a spy's fate. He knew what such a traitor's end would be, and, speechless with terror, he could hardly keep his feet, as he looked from his child to the stern colonel and back again.
”Father!” she cried, ”why don't you speak? Why don't you ask him to forgive us?”
”Mercy--mercy!” faltered the wretched man.
”What mercy did you have on my poor boy?” cried the colonel, fiercely.
”Through your treachery, he was surrounded by five times the number of his own men; and, for aught you cared, instead of lying wounded here he might have been dead.”
”Mercy! I did not know,” gasped the miserable culprit.
”Mercy? Yes; you shall have the choice of your own trees on which to hang,” cried the colonel.
”No, no; mercy!” gasped the trembling man, dropping on his knees; ”for my child's sake--for Heaven's sake--spare me!”
”Father!” cried Fred, excitedly.
”Silence, boy! I am their judge,” said Colonel Forrester, sternly.
”Yes, man, for your child's sake, I will spare you, in spite of your cowardly treachery.”
”Father, father!” cried the girl, excitedly; but he could not speak.
”Yes, I will spare you for your child's sake,” said the colonel again.
”There, little woman, I forgive you, for you are as brave and true-hearted as can be. I believe you--every word. Your little heart was moved to pity for the prisoner, as it has been moved to pity for my poor boy here, and for my men.”
He took her hand in his, and held it.
”I have heard of all your busy nursing, and I do not blame you; I would rather praise. There, help the old man downstairs, and I am not afraid of your betraying us.”
The girl raised his hand and kissed it before rus.h.i.+ng to her father, flinging her arms about him, and helping him away, so weak and semi-paralysed by fright that he could hardly totter from the room, the colonel following to the door, and signing to the soldiers to go down.
”There, he has had his punishment,” said the colonel, smiling; ”and now you will be able to rest in peace.”
”Thank you, father, thank you,” whispered Fred, huskily.
”You see you were not to blame now.”
”Not so much as I thought, father.”
”Not to blame at all. There, make haste and grow strong, my boy, before we are driven out in turn by the enemy.”
”Are they near, father?”
”No; as far as I know, my boy. But the victors of yesterday are the defeated to-day, perhaps to win again to-morrow. Ah, my boy, it is fratricidal work! and, though I love my cause as well as ever, I would give all I possess as one of the richest men in our county to see home smiling again in peace.”
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