Part 85 (1/2)
”No, sir; there's no bad news at all.”
”Then what do you mean? What have you heard?”
”Don't, don't ask me, my lad.”
”But I do ask you, and I will know.”
”I only know what the men think, and of course that may mean nothing.”
”What do they think?”
”Now, look ye here, Master Fred,” cried Samson, appealingly, ”what's the good of your bullying me into saying things which will only make you cross with me, and call me a thundering idiot, or some other pretty thing like that?”
”But anything's better than suspense, and I want to know the worst.”
”Well, then, you can't,” said Samson, gruffly. ”There aren't no worse, because it's all guessing.”
”Well, then, what do they guess?”
”Now, look ye here, Master Fred--is it fair to make me tell you, and put you in a pa.s.sion; and you a-standing there with a sword by your side, and another in your hand?”
”Speak, sir--speak!”
”Very well, sir; here goes. And if you fly in a pa.s.sion, and do anything rash to me, it will only be another triumph for my brother Nat.”
”Will you speak, sir?”
”Yes, I'm going to, sir; but one must make a beginning. Well, then, Master Fred, it's only hearsay, and you know what hearsay is. Some one heard one of the prisoners say that he saw Sir G.o.dfrey go down wounded, and young Master Scarlett jump across him, fighting like a madman; and then people were driven all sorts of ways, but not before there was a regular burst of fire sweeping along; and they think that Sir G.o.dfrey and poor Master Scarlett was overtaken by the flames. Master Fred!
Master Fred! don't take on like that. It's only what they say, you know, dear lad, and it may be all wrong.”
The rough fellow laid his hand upon his master's arm, as Fred turned away.
”But it's what I fear--it's what I fear,” he groaned. ”And my father thinks the same; I know he does. Oh, Samson, how horrible! how horrible! If I only knew who fired the place!”
”Oh, I know that, sir,” said Samson. ”One of the prisoners boasted about it--not one of the gentleman Cavaliers, but one of the rough fellows like me. He says he set the place a-fire in two places, when he saw the game was up; and he said that it was so as we shouldn't have comfortable quarters--a mean hound!”
”Poor Scar! poor old Scar!” groaned Fred, walking slowly away, to try and get somewhere alone with his sorrow, as he thought of his brave, manly young friend.
He walked on till he was right away down by one of the clumps of trees at the west end of the lake; and as he groaned again he started, for he thought he was alone, but Samson had followed him softly.
”Don't 'ee take on, Master Fred, lad. Be a man. I feel as if I should like to sit down and blubber like a big calf taken away from its mother, but it won't do, lad, it won't do; we're soldiers now. But if I could have my way, I'd just get them all together as started this here war, and make 'em fight it out themselves till there wasn't one left, and then I'd enjoy myself.”
”Don't talk of enjoyment. Samson, my lad.”
”But I must, for I just would. I'd go and get the sharpest spade I could find, and take off my jerkin, and bury what was left of 'em, and that would be the finest thing that could happen for old England.”
”Nonsense, man! You don't understand these things,” said Fred, sadly.
”And I don't want to, sir. What I understand is that instead of fighting the French, or the Spaniards, or any other barbarous enemies, we're all fighting against one another like savages; and there's the beautiful old Hall burning down to the ground like a beacon fire on a hill, and who knows but what it may be our turn next?”
”What, at the Manor, Samson?”