The arm that Fowell had laid about Merrylips tightened in a grip that almost hurt her.
"I do forgive him what happened yesterday," Fowell said, as if he found it hard to say. "But I hope the Lord in His goodness may let me meet him once again when I wear a sword!"
Scarcely had Fowell uttered this pious wish, when there came a clattering of the bolt in the door of the wash-house.
"'Tis Digby!" cried Merrylips, and felt herself half choked with the beating of her heart.
But it was not the lieutenant, whom she feared for Dick Fowell's sake. It was a corporal and a couple of troopers who had come to fetch the prisoner to Captain Norris. They were in great haste. They seemed scarcely to notice or to care that she was in the wash-house. But for all their haste, she saw that they were sullenly civil toward Lieutenant Fowell, and they even helped him to walk away. He needed help, for in spite of all that he could do, he staggered as soon as he stood upon his feet.
When Dick Fowell had been led away, Merrylips went slowly out into the courtyard. She felt faint and cold, and she was almost trembling at the thought that her old friends all would scorn and hate her, because she had helped a Roundhead. But she found the garrison too tired with the hours of fighting that were past, and too busy with making ready for the fight that was to come, to pay much attention to one small lad or wonder where he had spent the hours of the night.
Ever since daybreak, she learned, there had been hard fighting, and many men had been killed and wounded. Cornet Slanning had been shot through the leg, and Lieutenant Crashaw, who had led out a sallying party, had been cut off from the garrison and made prisoner.
It was because of this that Captain Norris had sent for Dick Fowell, and the guards were treating him civilly. Colonel Hatcher was offering to exchange Lieutenant Crashaw for his brother-in-law, Dick Fowell, and so sorely did the Monksfield garrison need officers that Captain Norris had agreed to the exchange.
So white flags had been hung out on either side, and the firing stopped. Presently, about noontime, Dick Fowell was put on a horse and taken outside the gates of Monksfield, where he should be handed over to his own men. Merrylips' eyes met his, as he was riding forth. He did not speak, or even smile upon her, but she guessed that he did this out of caution, lest any show of friendliness from him, a Roundhead, should do her harm among the Cavaliers.
Half an hour later Eustace Crashaw was once more within the walls of Monksfield. He was very grave of face, and he stammered more than ever as he told Captain Norris the number of men and the store of ammunition that the rebels had with them. Colonel Hatcher had shown all to him, in bravado, and bidden him tell his captain that, thus furnished, they meant to sit there till they had reduced the garrison.