“You here?”
“I came with Lord Killcrichtoun.”
“How is he?”
“The surgeon reports favorably of his wounds, but he must be kept very quiet. Will you pass with me into the sitting-room?—Simms, do not leave your master’s side until I return.—This way, General,” said Francis Tredegar, rising and opening a door leading into their private parlor.
There the friends sat down together,—the General heated and anxious, Francis Tredegar surprised and curious.
“I followed as quickly as I could after hearing of my nephew’s mad purpose. I hired a yacht and pursued him, hoping to be in time to save him. I wish now that I had hired a special train from London. It would have given me three hours in advance, and I should then have been in time,” groaned the General, wiping his face.
“Take comfort, sir. It might have had a fatal termination. As it is, we have reason to thank Heaven for an unmerited mercy. Prince Ernest has escaped unhurt, and has returned to England. Lord Killcrichtoun is wounded, but not fatally. ‘All’s well that ends well.’”
“‘That ends well!’ Yes, but who can say that this will end well? Oh, Heaven, how much trouble that young man has caused me and all who are dear to me! But he is my only brother’s only son! my dead brother’s only child! and in spite of all I have said and sworn I must try to save him.”
“Is he so near of kin to you, sir? I had not suspected it.”
“No; his new ridiculous title, together with the estrangement that has been between us, would naturally mislead any one who had not known us previously as to the facts of our kinship. You came with him on this Quixotic adventure?”