“Humph!” Ridydale retorted conclusively. “Hasn’t Colonel Gwyeth said you were his cornet? What more would you have?”
Hugh laughed, and was turning away, when he perceived that Captain Oldesworth had opened his eyes and was watching him; he halted short and waited, for he would not be the first to speak. “So it’s your day now,” Oldesworth began, in an even tone that might be construed a dozen ways.
“Fortune of war, sir,” Hugh answered coldly.
“You got in, after all,” the captain pursued, with something like a groan. “That comes of letting a civilian meddle with military matters. If you had remained in my hands—” There he broke off. “I crave your forgiveness, sir,” he finished, with a bitterness that angered Hugh, yet moved him to something faintly like compassion, “I had forgot; a prisoner should be circumspect in speech.”
It was on Hugh’s tongue to retort that Cavalier gentlemen were not wont to mishandle their prisoners, but he thought on Dennis Butler, and that speech was silenced. He merely said: “My father will not abuse you, sir,” and had half a mind to pass on, when Oldesworth struggled up on his elbow. “Tell me one thing, Hugh,” he broke out as if against his will, “has Peregrine been taken?”
“No, sir, not here at Kingsford.”
Oldesworth sank down again with his head on his arm. “He ran away, then,” he said in a constrained voice. “He should have come in with the other squadron. We need not have been so cut to pieces had the whole troop been there. Lieutenant Ingram came in with me; he was killed at the breach. And Peregrine ran away.” He paused a moment, then spoke half to himself, “If I come free again I’ll strip him out of his commission for this.”
Hugh dropped on one knee beside his uncle. “I pray you, sir, take it not so to heart,” he urged, “mayhap ’twas not that he ran away—”
“Nay, I know Peregrine,” Captain Oldesworth answered. “I would ’twere he had turned Cavalier and you had stayed Roundhead; you’d not have slunk off to save your skin.” But next moment he spoke in his bitterest tone: “Nay, get you hence, lad. I don’t want your pity; I’d liefer have your hate.” Then he turned his face to the wall, still with his mouth hard set, and closed his eyes.
There was nothing more to be said, Hugh saw, so he came to his feet slowly, with a feeling that after all he was sorry for Oldesworth, in his pain and bitter humiliation, much though he had deserved it. He turned again to Ridydale and said under his breath: “Corporal, if you love me put on a less appalling face and use the gentleman more civilly. After all, he is my kinsman.”