Crown and Sceptre: A West Country Story

sharply.

  "Then why didn't you cry out or flinch, eh?"

  This was accompanied by a tighter grip, which seemed as if thestranger's fingers were made of iron.

  The grip was but momentary, and the boy stood like a rock.

  "Well," said the stranger again, "why didn't you cry out?"

  "Because I would not," replied the boy, frowning.

  "Shake hands."

  Fred tried to hold back, but the command was so imperious, and the firm,sinewy hand before his face seemed to draw him, and he laid his ownwithin it, to feel the fingers close in a warm but gentle grasp, thepressure being firm and kindly; and in place of the fierce look apleasant, winning expression came into the visitor's countenance, whilethe left hand was now clapped upon the boy's shoulder, and closed in apressure as agreeable as the other was harsh.

  "Glad to know you, my lad. That's frank and manly of you. The rightstuff in him, Mistress Forrester. He'll make a good man, colonel.Well?"

  "I didn't speak, sir," said Fred, in answer to the question and look.

  "That's right, too. Don't be in too great a hurry to speak," said thevisitor; and somehow, to his own astonishment, Fred felt himself drawntoward this imperious personage, who seemed to take command of every onein the place. "Well, Forrester, you'll make a soldier of him."

  "I--"

  The hesitatingly spoken pronoun came from Mistress Forrester, who seemedchecked by the guest's quick look of reproof.

  "I had not decided yet," said Colonel Forrester, gravely; and Frednoticed that his father seemed to have suddenly grown rigid and stern inmanner and tone of voice. "What do you say, Fred? should you like to bea soldier?"

  "Yes, father; like you have been."

  "No, no, Fred, my boy!" cried his mother.

  "Madam," said their guest, "ladies do not always understand Latin, but acertain Roman poet called Horace once said, `_Dulce et decorum est propatria mori_'. Let me modify it by saying, `to offer in time of need todie for your country.' It does not follow that a man who fights for hishome and liberty dies. Good lad. Be a soldier."

  "I will, sir," said Fred, firmly. "Father didn't die, mother."

  "No, nor you shall not, my boy. There, now, we know one another, and Ihope we shall become well-tried friends."

  "But I don't know you yet, sir. You have not told me your name."

  The visitor clapped Fred on the shoulder again, and there was a merry,kindly light in his eyes as he cried--

  "Come, I like this, Forrester. Your Coombeland boys are the genuine,frank English stuff. Fred, my lad, I like your out-spoken ways. Fromsome lads it would have been insolence, but from you it seems sturdy,honest independence. You may know me for the present, my boy, asCaptain Miles."

  "Miles, a soldier," said Fred to himself but the visitor heard him.

  "Right," he cried. "Miles, a soldier. Mistress Forrester, Icongratulate you on your home and surroundings. And now, pardon myfrankness, I have travelled far to-day and I journey far to-morrow, I ama-hungered and a-thirst, madam; and afterwards, as your good husband andtried soldier and I have done our business, I shall be glad to press apleasant west-country bed."

  With winning courtesy, but at the same time with a half-shrinking,troubled look in her eyes, Mistress Forrester led the way to the table,and as soon as he was seated the guest seemed to cast off his imperiousmilitary manner, and become the courtly scholarly gentleman who had readmuch, travelled far, and thought deeply. So pleasant and interestingwas his conversation that Fred grew more and more attracted by him, andlistened with wide-open eyes to all he said.

  Only once did the business-like, firm and decisive officer appear aftersupper, when he suddenly apologised and rose.

  "I have an old-fashioned way of looking after my best friends, MistressForrester," he said. "At the present moment, on this journey, my horseis one of my best friends. You will excuse my visiting him?"

  "If you will trust me, Captain Miles," said Colonel Forrester, placingsome emphasis on the name, "I can promise you that your good horse haseverything that will help him to make a long journey to-morrow."

  "I do trust you, Forrester," said the visitor, smiling. "I would I hadten men like you, and as worthy of trust."

  As he spoke, he subsided into his chair, but Fred was already on hislegs.

  "I'll go and see after the horse," he said.

  The visitor gave him a kindly approving nod, and the boy left the room.

  "How old is he, Mistress Forrester?" he said.

  "Sixteen," replied the hostess, sadly.

  "Just on the dawn of manhood, madam. Hah, Forrester, old friend, it isa grand thing to be sixteen, and with life before you. God bless allboys! How little they know how grand a thing it is to be young!"

  There was silence after this speech--a silence which lasted till Fredentered eagerly.

  "The horse is quite right, sir," he cried.

  "How do you know, boy?"

  "How do I know, sir? Because he is eating his corn so well, and feelsso comfortable and cool. I say--"

  "Well?"

  "He's a fine horse."

  "Yes. So he is. A splendid fellow. There, my kind hosts, I'll saygood night. I would I had come on another mission, but it is only duty,and you must forgive me. I shall be off at dawn. Good night, madam.Good night, Forrester. I knew I could depend on you. Good night, myboy. You'll forgive me for pinching your shoulder so hard. It was totry your mettle."

  "Oh, I didn't mind," cried Fred. "Good night, sir; and when I do becomea soldier, will you have me in your regiment?"

  "I will," thundered out the guest. "Forrester, that's a bargain. Goodnight."

  There was silence in the room as the two men went out together; and assoon as the door was closed, Mistress Forrester dropped into the nearestchair, and covered her face with her hands.

  "Mother, dear mother," cried Fred, going on his knees before her, andthrowing his arms about her neck, "you are crying because I said I wouldbe a soldier!"

  "No, my boy," she said, looking up, "I was weeping for the evil days instore for us all. Heaven be with us, and guide us all aright. Goodnight, my boy, good night."

  Fred kissed her tenderly, and suffered her to lead him to the door onhis way to his room.

  He passed his father on the stairs, and there was a troubled look in thecolonel's eyes, as he bade his son good night.

  A quarter of an hour after, Fred was in bed dreaming of secret passages,and the captain helping him to fight men in rusty armour after they hadwon their way to the inner chamber where the old arms lay; and then itseemed to him that he heard the trampling of horses, and he woke to findit was morning, and the sun shining into his room.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN.

  NAT IS VERY MUCH IN THE WAY.

  Fred lay for some few moments thinking over his vivid dream and unablefor a time to realise that he had been fast asleep. That was themorning sunshine sure enough, and this was his room; but his head feltin a whirl, and as if it was mixed up with some puzzle.

  But that was not the coinage of his brain that distant _pit-pat_ of ahorse's hoofs upon the hard road; and springing out of bed, he ran tothe window, threw it open, and looked out, straining his neck to get aglimpse of the distant way.

  For a few moments he could see nothing. Then there came into sight,rising out of a hollow, the head and broad shoulders of a horseman. Ashe progressed, more and more of his figure appealed as he ascended aslope, till at last the horse was in full view, but directly afterwardsthey seemed to top the ascent and begin to go down on the other side,with the sun flashing from stirrup and buckle, and from the hilt of therider's sword. There were other bright flashes too all around, but theywere from the dewdrops which spangled grass and leaf, as the riderseemed to grow shorter, his horse disappearing, till only his head andshoulders appeared above the ridge, and then they passed away, and the_pit-pat_ of the horse's hoofs died out.

  "Gone!" said Fred, thoughtfully. "No! there he is again;" and
hestrained his eyes to gaze at the tiny distant form of themilitary-looking man who had made so strong an impression upon him, buthe did not become visible; it was only the sound of his horse's hoofswhich were heard for the space of a minute, faint but clear, on themorning air. Then all was silent.

  "I half like that Captain Miles," said Fred to himself. "Wish I wasgoing with him. Wonder where he has gone? To Plymouth, perhaps."

  Fred began to dress, after hesitating whether he should go to bed again.But the bright morning was so attractive, and after the firstapplication of cold water, he felt a positive eagerness to get out inthe fresh