Part 78 (2/2)
”How do I know what he will say?” thought Fred, glancing back at his father's stern, wrinkled countenance as he read his despatch. ”It isn't like the old days, though I used sometimes to feel shrinking enough then. It is not between father and son, but between colonel and one of his followers.”
Fred felt as if he would like to walk right off; but there were those at the Hall occupying his thoughts, and he made an effort over his moral cowardice and stopped short, meaning to go to his father as soon as the messenger had left.
He had not long to wait, for the orderly saluted and rode off, but there was something else now to check him. His father looked so very severe, and as if there was something very important on his mind.
”I have chosen a bad time,” thought Fred. ”I'll go away and wait.”
”No, no,” he said, half aloud; ”how can I be so foolish? I will go up and speak to him like a man. It is mean and cowardly to hang back.”
He stepped toward the colonel again, but there was another reprieve for him, the general riding up; and for the next quarter of an hour the two officers were in earnest converse.
”Yes,” said Fred; ”I have chosen a bad time. I'll go.”
But he did not stir, for at the same moment he felt that the general might be planning with his father that which he sought to prevent.
”I'll go and speak now they are together,” he said to himself, desperately. ”General Hedley likes me, I think, and he could not be very cross.”
”No, I dare not,” he muttered; and he paced to and fro again till the general touched his horse's flanks, and rode slowly away, Colonel Forrester following him thoughtfully for some distance, till in a fit of desperation Fred hurried to his side.
”Want me, my boy?” said the colonel, gravely.
”Yes, father. I want to ask you something.”
”Yes; go on. I am very much occupied just now.”
Fred looked at him piteously, his words upon his lips, but refusing to be spoken.
”Well, my boy, what is it? Are you in some great trouble?”
The words came in so much more kindly a tone, that Fred made a step toward his father, and the barrier of discipline gave way, and it seemed to be no longer the stern officer but the father of the old Manor house days he was longing to address.
”Well, my boy, what is the trouble?” said Colonel Forrester, kindly.
”It is about--”
Fred did not finish his sentence, but pointed across the lake.
”Ah, yes, about the Hall!” said the colonel, with a sigh. ”Well, my boy, what do you wish to say?”
”Are they keeping to what was in Sir G.o.dfrey's message, father?”
”Yes, my boy,” sternly.
”But don't you think they could be persuaded to surrender?”
”Yes, Fred.”
<script>