“Not yet awhile, my boy. We must only think of those we love when our duty to our country is done.”
They rode on in silence for a time, with Fred picturing, amid the trampling of hoofs and jingle of weapons, the scenes of his boyhood, but to be awakened from his dream by his father’s voice.
“Do not talk about our destination. I only tell you, my boy, because it is a matter which interests us both.”
“No, father. You may trust me.”
“I know that, or I should not speak. Our destination is—”
“Not the Manor, father?”
“No, my boy, the Hall.”
Fred sat staring wildly at his father, as bit by bit he grasped what this really meant to these who had always been their nearest friends; and then, bubbling over with excitement, he exclaimed—
“Oh, father, Sir Godfrey will think this is your doing.”
“Yes, my boy.”