“No need,” Master Oldesworth spoke curtly, and then addressed Hugh: “You will give me your parole not to attempt an escape.”
Hugh looked up helplessly into his grandfather’s stern face, and felt the grasp of the corporal press upon his arm. His breath came hard like a sob, but he managed to force out his answer: “I cannot, sir, I cannot. You’d better thrust me back into my uncle’s hands. I cannot promise.”
He was trying to nerve himself to be dragged back to the chamber behind the guardroom, but though Master Oldesworth’s face grew harder, he only said, “Bring him along after me,” and led the way down the passage.
Hugh followed unsteadily, glad of the grasp on his arm that helped to keep him erect. They had entered the east wing, he noted listlessly; then he was trudging up the long staircase and stumbling down the corridor. At the first window recess he saw Master Oldesworth halt and heard him speak less curtly: “I have indeed to thank you, mistress.” Raising his eyes as he passed, Hugh saw that by the window, with hands wrung tight together, Lois Campion was standing.
Instinctively he tried to halt, but the grip on his arm never relaxed, and he must come on at his captor’s side, down to the end of the corridor. There Master Oldesworth had flung open a door into a tiny chamber, with one high, narrow slit of a window, bare of furniture save for a couple of chests and a broken chair, over which the dust lay thick. “Since you will have no better lodging, you shall stay here,” he said coldly.
Dragging his way in, Hugh flung himself down on a chest with his head in his hands. “Could you let me have a drink of water, sir?” he asked faintly.
“Go to my chamber and fetch the flask of Spanish wine, Lois,” Master Oldesworth bade, and Hugh heard the girl’s footsteps die away in the corridor, then heard or heeded nothing, just sat with his face hidden.
A touch on the shoulder roused him at last; he took the glass of wine his grandfather offered him and slowly drank it down. They were alone in the room now, he noted as he drank, the door was drawn to, and Lois was gone. He set down the empty glass and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “I thank you, sir, for this, for all you have saved me from,” he said slowly.
“You might thank me for more, if you were less self-willed.”
“’Tis not from self-will, sir, I did as I have done, that I refused my parole,” Hugh broke out, “’tis for my father. I cannot bind myself. I must go to him. I—”