“I shall have to join them, if these things go on, Margaret.”
“Godfrey!”
“Yes; I feel it is a duty to one’s self and country. If we country gentlemen are not staunch now, and do not rally round his majesty, what are we to come to?”
Lady Markham shook her head, and softly applied her handkerchief to her eyes, ending by rising and going to where Sir Godfrey sat and, laying her hand upon his shoulder, she bent down and whispered a few words to him, which seemed to have a calming effect, for he took her hand from where it lay, raised it to his lips, and looked up in his wife’s eyes for a few moments before she returned to her place.
All this seemed very strange to the lads, who, feeling uncomfortable, began chatting to Lil, but a complete damp was thrown over what was generally a pleasant, sociable meal, and it was with quite a sense of relief that Fred rose at a hint from Scarlett, and they went out into the hall to walk up and down,—talking for a few minutes before Scarlett ran up the stairs and down once or twice to make sure that all was right by the topmost balusters.
“Glad I did not make up my mind to tell father,” he said, as he stood once more by the open door.
“What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know. Father has had letters, I suppose, that have upset him.”
“But he said something about the king—and rallying round him.”
“Yes.”