“No, no, you mistake them,” said Mark, with a smile of incredulity. “I heard the guns not a quarter of an hour since—would I had never left them.”
“There, take my horse, mount quickly, and make for the Bay, and turn him loose on the shore—reach the fleet if you can—in any case, escape; there is no time to lose.”
“And you—how are you to account for this?” said Mark. “Will your loyalty stand so severe a trial as that of having assisted a rebel's escape?”
“Leave me to meet my difficulties my own way; turn your thoughts to your own—heaven knows, they are enough.”
The tone he spoke in appealed to Mark's feelings more strongly than all he said before, and grasping Travers' hand, he said—
“Oh, if I had but had your friendship once, how different I might be this day; and my father too—what is to become of him?”
“Spare him at least the sorrow of seeing his son arraigned on a charge of treason, if not of worse.”
Fortunately Mark heard not the last few words, which rather fell from Travers inadvertently, and were uttered in a low voice.
“There,” cried Mark, as the loud report of several guns pealed forth— “they have landed—they will soon be here.”
As he spoke, a mounted dragoon rode up to Travers, and whispered a few words in his ear. Frederick motioned the man to fall back, and then approaching Mark, said—