“Am I doing right?” she whispered.
“Quite, dearest mother,” he replied in so low a tone that she could hardly hear. “Some day perhaps Fred and I may be friends again.”
“Then I am to go?”
“Yes; it will give me a chance to escape.”
“They are dressed and ready,” said Mistress Forrester, returning. “Poor things, they have not been to bed.”
At that moment there was another tap at the door, and upon its being opened, Fred was standing there.
“The horses are ready,” he said quietly. “I have had your pony saddled, Lilian. Lady Markham, the two servants will have to ride pillion behind a couple of our men.”
For answer Lady Markham drew her hood over her head, and assisted Lilian, who was ready to burst into a fit of hysterical sobbing; and in fear lest she should betray her brother’s whereabouts, her mother hurried her to the door, but stopped to see all out before her, leaving last, and taking the precaution to slip the key from the lock, lest some one should come and her son should find it fast.
Ten minutes later, Scarlett Markham stood at the window listening to the setting off of the little party, with his head well hidden behind the curtain, and remained motionless till the trampling of the horses died away in the silence of the night.
“Ah,” he said to himself, “nothing could have happened better, as the enemy is in possession. Poor mother! Poor Lil! What a pang to have to leave the dear old home; but they will be away from the tumult and bloodshed if the rebels stand. Now for my news, if I can carry it without being caught.”