Lady Markham bowed coldly.
“We are at your mercy, sir,” she said.
“Nonsense, madam!” cried the general, shortly. “You and the pretty young lady there by your side need not talk about mercy. The stern necessities of war bring us here, so all I have to say is, be good enough to reserve such apartments as you need for yourselves. You and your servants will be perfectly unmolested.”
Lady Markham bowed once more.
“The housekeeper is here,” she said, “and will provide all we have. We have no men-servants now, to show where the stables and granary lie.”
“Pray don’t trouble yourself about these matters, madam. My men will find what they want, and I dare say,” he added sarcastically, “unless General Markham comes to look us up, and forces us to make more reprisals, we shall ride away, and you will find the Hall little the worse for our visit.”
A sudden change came over Lady Markham at the mention of her husband’s name, and after a few minutes’ hesitation, she stepped out to stand with joined hands, looking supplicatingly at the general.
“My husband?” she said imploringly, “is—is he well?”
“You ask me a question I cannot answer, madam,” said the general, taking off his morion, and speaking in a quiet sympathising voice. “But there is one of my young followers who may be able to give you some information.”
He turned and made a sign to Fred, who touched his horse’s flanks, and rode forward with a peculiar singing noise in his ears.