Part 62 (1/2)

”No, no, mother, not towards men,” said Fred, holding her tightly to his side, ”to one who was once your dearest friend--to her and her child.”

”Lady Markham? Oh, Fred, my boy, they are still dear to me, though this terrible war keeps us apart. But they are there. Oh, why do you stop?

Bring them in at once.”

”No, no, dearest mother, you are too hasty,” whispered Fred. ”They are at their own place. But it is taken by our troops. It is to be a little camp for us, perhaps for weeks. It is no place for them.

General Hedley consents, and I want you to come and fetch them here.”

”Yes, yes, my boy; but Lady Markham would not leave her home.”

”Yes, she will, at your persuasion, mother. You must come at once.”

Mistress Forrester drew a long breath, stifled a sob, and said firmly--

”I will be ready in a few minutes.”

”Shall I saddle Dodder, mistress, or will you ride pillion behind the captain?” said a gruff voice at the door.

”Ah, Samson, my good, true lad,” cried Mistress Forrester, ”I am glad to hear your voice again.”

She ran forward, and held out her hand.

”And it's like the sweet music of the birds to hear yours, mistress,”

said the rough fellow, kissing the extended hand.

”Quick, my boy!” whispered Mistress Forrester. ”Give your men refreshment. Saddle the pony, Samson. I will soon be down.”

She ran to the staircase, and Samson tramped off to the old stable, thrust his hand in the thatch over the door, where, to use his expression, ”the key always laid,” and a neigh of recognition greeted him as soon as he spoke.

In five minutes he was leading the pony round to the gate, where he was in time to find a huge black jack of cider being pa.s.sed round with horns to the men, one of the maids having hastily dressed and come down.

Directly after, in her dark riding-habit and hat, Mistress Forrester was at the door, was helped into the saddle by her son, and the little cavalcade was on its way back through the dark lanes, and over the stretch of moor.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

HOW SCARLETT VISITED HIS MOTHER.

”Oh, mother darling, how shocking it all seems!” said Lil, after a long burst of weeping, as she knelt by her mother in the darkness of their own chamber that dreary night.

”Yes, yes, my child; but we must be patient and wait.”

”But it seems so terrible. These men here--our dear old home full of soldiers, and poor father and Scar--”

”Hush, hush, my darling!” whispered Lady Markham. ”You do not know what pain you are giving me. Heaven's will be done, my child. Let us pray for the safety of those we love.”

She softly sank upon her knees beside her child in the darkness of the sombre chamber, and through a broken cas.e.m.e.nt the bright starlight shone down, shedding sufficient l.u.s.tre to show the two upturned faces with their closed eyes.

The trampling and bustle had gradually died out. The loud orders and buzz of talking had ceased by degrees, and now the silence of the night was only broken by the impatient stamp of a horse, the regular tramp of armed sentries, and from time to time a low firm challenge.

Some time before Lady Markham's attention had been drawn by Lil to the gathering of a little detachment of hors.e.m.e.n, and she had recognised the voice of him who gave the order to advance, while from the open window, themselves unseen, they had watched the faint gleam of the men's breastplates, as they rode down the avenue, to be seen afterwards like a faint moving shadow on the banks of the lake before they disappeared.