Crown and Sceptre: A West Country Story

struggle; then we were all pell-mell, here, there, andeverywhere, and I recollect no more."

  "But where did you see them last?"

  "I cannot say--in the drawing-room, I think."

  "Yes. What were they doing?"

  "What do you think they were likely to be doing, boy? Fighting bravelyfor their king."

  There was a pause.

  "You do not think that--"

  Fred did not finish his sentence. "That they set fire to the Hall? No;Sir Godfrey was too proud of his old home to destroy it."

  "I did not mean that," said Fred, hoarsely; "I meant--"

  "Wounded--killed?" Fred bowed his head. He could not speak, for therewas a horrible idea tugging at his brain, one which he could not shakeoff.

  "Wounded? Perhaps. Killed? Heaven forbid! No; I hope and believethat they fought to the last, and then escaped, or else, far morelikely, they are--"

  He stopped short, for the idea that troubled Fred had now beencommunicated to him, and he drew in his breath with a look of horror.Then, as if unable to control himself, he glanced sharply at the burningbuilding, while, giddy and weak with emotion, Fred walked slowly back,to make his way to his father, who met him and took his arm.

  "Have you heard any news of them?" said the colonel, hoarsely.

  "No, father," half whispered Fred; and he repeated the Cavalier's words.

  Colonel Forrester glanced at the burning Hall, nearly every portion ofwhich had now been seized upon by the flames, and he drew a deep hissingbreath, as he whispered to himself--

  "No, no; impossible! They must have escaped. Fred," he said aloud,"they will not tell us if we ask--it is quite natural; so we are quitein the dark as to how many the defenders were. There were none killed,and I find that the wounded were all carried out. Sir Godfrey and hisson must have escaped, or if not, they will be brought in by some of theoutposts."

  Fred made no answer; he could not speak, for a terrible picture wasbefore his eyes--that of Sir Godfrey, wounded to the death, unable tostir, and Scarlett trying to bear him out to safety, but only to beovertaken and beaten down by the flames.

  He walked on by his father in silence, while the latter gazed straightbefore him, thinking to himself of the past, when he and Sir Godfreywere the fastest of friends.

  "This cruel war!" he said to himself. "Friend against friend, brotheragainst brother. Poor Godfrey! Poor Scarlett! So full of bravemanliness and courage. Fitting end for two brave spirits; but I feel asif I had assisted at their death."

  But at that moment Fred made a mental effort.

  "I will not believe it," he said, with a shudder. "It is too horrible."Then aloud, "Father, may I take something to the prisoners, and helpthem? They look very bad."

  "Yes, yes; of course," said the colonel, starting as it were back to thepresent. "Poor fellows! The surgeon must be with them now; but go anddo your best."

  But hard as Fred worked by the light of the burning house, he could dolittle to assuage the pains, mental and bodily, of the prisoners. Theyassumed a careless indifference, a good-humoured contempt for theircaptors. They were Cavaliers--gentlemen who did not scruple to serve asordinary soldiers for the benefit of their country; and they smiled atthe rough stern men of the Puritan ranks. But deep in their heartsthere was a despairing rage at being conquered, which bit and stung, andmade them writhe more than the throbbings of their wounds.

  The refreshments Fred took to them, helped by Samson, were simple, butmost welcome; and more than one eye brightened and directed a friendlygrateful look at the lad who busied himself on the captives' behalf.

  "No; no more, my boy," said the tall, fair Cavalier, smiling at Fred, ashe pressed him to eat. "I have a wound here that throbs as if some onewere thrusting a red-hot iron through my shoulder. I suppose it is allright, but your surgeon has not hands like some delicate lady."

  "Can I do anything?" said Fred, eagerly. "Shall I bathe the wound?"

  "No, my desperate and deadly enemy, no," said the Cavalier, smiling ashe look Fred's hand; "and look here: some of these days the war will beover, and if you and I are not sleeping too soundly, you must come andsee me, and I'll come and see you. At present our duty is to kill eachother, or take one another prisoner. By-and-by we shall have more time.There," he said, drawing a ring from his finger; "you wear that, andremember that Harry Grey always feels respect and esteem for a braveenemy, while for you--Oh, curse it! We are not enemies. God bless you,my lad! You and Scar Markham ought to be working together as a pair."

  He turned impatiently away, laid his head upon the folded cloak, ofwhich Fred had made a pillow and closed his eyes, as if annoyed that heshould have seemed weak; while, after pressing the ring tightly down inits place, Fred stood back watching the group of wounded and captive menfor a few minutes, before turning away, and then stopping short by thelittle heap of swords of which they had been deprived.

  As it happened, one with a peculiarly shaped guard took his attention,for he remembered having seen it hanging to the belt of the Cavalier hehad been tending.

  Stooping down, he was in the act of drawing it from among the others,when the sentinel made a movement to arrest his hand.

  "Don't interfere," said Fred, sharply. "I will be answerable to ColonelForrester for what I have done."

  The man drew back, and stood resting upon his clumsy firelock again,while, as the lad stood with the sword in his hand, he raised his eyesfrom the hilt, and found that the Cavalier was watching him, and makinga sign to him to approach once more.

  Fred stepped to his side.

  "No," he said; "you cannot have it. You are a prisoner."

  "Of course," said the wounded man, smiling; "though if I had it, I couldnot use it. I was going to say I am glad you have taken it. A capitalblade, my boy. Here, unbuckle the belt, and take it and the sheath.Yes, I insist. That's right. Keep it, lad, and don't, if we meetagain, use it on me. No, no thanks; it is yours by right of capture.Now I want a nap."

  CHAPTER FORTY.

  A SAD REPORT.

  The Cavalier let his head sink once more upon his pillow, and Fred wentslowly away, to go and watch the flames rising and falling as the Hallburned rapidly, sending forth a glow of heat that could be felt faraway.

  And now that the hurry and excitement were at an end, Fred had time oncemore to think of those of whose fate he was still uncertain.

  Just then a prisoner was being brought in, and he hurried to the spot,but only to turn away disappointed, to go and gaze once more at theburning pile, musing sadly on the times when he had passed such pleasanthours about the place which had been to him as a second home; andthinking, as he gazed through the open windows into the furnace within,of the various rooms where every object was so familiar--picture,ornament, carved cabinet, trophy--and now all turning to glowing embers.

  "Seems a pity, Master Fred, don't it?" said a voice at his elbow.

  "You here, Samson?"

  "Yes, sir; just come from round at the back."

  "Has the fire made its way there?"

  "Oh, bless you, sir, it's been creeping and rushing and leaping overeverything! Even the big tool-house and fruit-room's burned. Such apity. Nice lot of tools all destroyed; and, not that I want to findfault, but a deal better set than we ever had at the Manor. Why, therewas a barrow, sir, as run that light in your hands, no matter how youfilled it, as made it a pleasure to work."

  "And all burned, Samson?"

  "All burned into ashes, sir. I never could understand it, but it alwaysdid seem hard as a man like brother Nat should have such a barrow asthat, while I had one as I was ashamed of."

  "We must get to the wilderness to-night, Samson, somehow."

  "Oh, he won't hurt, sir," said Samson, roughly. "He's right enough; butI've got a bottle o' cider, and three bread-cakes, and half a roast fowlto take with us when we go."

  "That's right," said Fred, smiling in spite of himself; but only to turnserious as an agonising thought shot through him, for a por
tion of theroof of the Hall fell just then, and a whirlwind of sparks sprang intothe evening sky.

  "Have you heard any news, Samson?" whispered Fred.

  "News, sir?"

  "Of Sir Godfrey and Scarlett?"

  Samson stood gazing straight at the fire, his eyes half shut, and hisforehead a maze of puckers and wrinkles, and he seemed not to have heardin the intentness of his watching the progress of the fire.

  "Do you hear what I say?" reiterated Fred. "Is there any news of SirGodfrey and Scarlett?"

  "Yes, I hear what you say, sir."

  "Then why don't you speak?"

  "'Cause I haven't