Part 64 (1/2)

”Coming home, Lil! Ah, who can say that? Well, I must soon be going.

If I stay, it is to be taken prisoner.”

”My darling!”

”Hush, mother! the sentries may hear you speak. They are all around.”

”I will be careful, dear,” she whispered. ”Then you must go? So soon?”

”Yes; and it is bad news to take to my father, but he will not care when he hears that you are safe and well. What's that?”

He ran softly to the window, and they realised that he was barefooted, and only dressed in light breeches and s.h.i.+rt.

There was the sound of a challenge, a reply, and then the trampling of horses came through the open cas.e.m.e.nt.

Lady Markham seized her son's hand as he stood listening at the deep mullioned window, while Lil clung to the other.

”A fresh detachment joined, I suppose,” whispered Scarlett, as he drew back. ”Perhaps I had better wait half an hour before I go back.”

”Oh, Scar, Scar!” half sobbed Lil.

”And you so cold and wet, my darling,” sighed Lady Markham.

”Pis.h.!.+ what of that. I don't mind. I would not go so soon, for it is quite delightful to be with you again, but I must be right away before it's light, and one never knows how far one may have to go round to escape notice from the enemy's men. They seem to swarm about here, mother.”

Lady Markham could say nothing, only kiss and embrace her boy, torn as she was by conflicting emotions--the desire to keep him, and that of wis.h.i.+ng him safe away.

All at once, Scar started from his mother's encircling arm, and darted to the window, but only to draw back, for there were two sentinels talking just beneath.

Then he ran to the door, but drew back, for steps of armed men were heard coming along the corridor, and escape was cut off there.

”Caught,” he said grimly. ”Poor father will not get his news.”

At that moment there was the sharp summons of a set of knuckles on the door.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

HOW LADY MARKHAM LEFT THE HALL.

”Hist!” whispered Lady Markham, in her agitation s.n.a.t.c.hing at the first straw that offered. ”They may think we are asleep, and will go away.”

Vain hope; there was another sharp rapping at the door.

”Answer,” said Scarlett, in a low, firm voice. ”Hear what they have to say.”

”Who is there?”

”I, Fred Forrester, Lady Markham. Have the goodness to open.”

”The traitor!” muttered Scar, glancing once more at the window, but the sounds from without told him that attempt to escape there was vain, for, if he dropped from the sill, the chances were that he would hurt himself, and even if he succeeded in reaching the ground unharmed, the alarm would be given by the sentinels, who would fire at him, and if they missed, there was a detachment of horse waiting to ride him down, for the steeds were stamping impatiently, and uttering a loud snort from time to time.

”Why am I disturbed at this time of the night?” said Lady Markham, trying to speak firmly and haughtily.