“No, no, dearest mother, you are too hasty,” whispered Fred. “They are at their own place. But it is taken by our troops. It is to be a little camp for us, perhaps for weeks. It is no place for them. General Hedley consents, and I want you to come and fetch them here.”
“Yes, yes, my boy; but Lady Markham would not leave her home.”
“Yes, she will, at your persuasion, mother. You must come at once.”
Mistress Forrester drew a long breath, stifled a sob, and said firmly—
“I will be ready in a few minutes.”
“Shall I saddle Dodder, mistress, or will you ride pillion behind the captain?” said a gruff voice at the door.
“Ah, Samson, my good, true lad,” cried Mistress Forrester, “I am glad to hear your voice again.”
She ran forward, and held out her hand.
“And it’s like the sweet music of the birds to hear yours, mistress,” said the rough fellow, kissing the extended hand.
“Quick, my boy!” whispered Mistress Forrester. “Give your men refreshment. Saddle the pony, Samson. I will soon be down.”