Fred’s was not a romantic nature, for that night, quite late, after he had gone up to bed, he sat at his window looking out at the starlit sky. And as he gazed all the thoughts of the evening came back to make him burst into a derisive laugh.
“It’s all nonsense,” he said; “knights and squires never did half the things they say. And if we had a war, and I had to go, I’m afraid it would be all rough and different to life here at home. But if Scar went too, I should not mind. They want all the men at such a time as this. Samson would have to go, and Nat, and no end of the farm lads about.”
Fred rose from his seat, and closed the window softly, for fear that he should be heard, and at last lay down, but not to sleep, for his young brain was excited, and a feeling of awe came over him as he began thinking of her who was sleeping only a few yards away.
“If father goes and takes me with him, and there is a terrible war, what will my mother say?”
Chapter Thirteen.
The Beginning of Trouble.
“Godfrey!”
“Hush, my darling; think of the children. Be firm. Be firm.”