Chapter Thirty Four.
A Vain Appeal.
That same night, an officer was sent with a flag of truce to the Hall, and bearing a summons to surrender.
To his intense delight at first, and intense sorrow afterwards, Fred found that it was to be his duty to bear the flag and the message to the officer in command of the little garrison.
He received his instructions and a despatch to Sir Godfrey Markham, and carrying a small white flag, and preceded by a trumpeter, he rode slowly through the evening mist, which was rising from the lake and the low meadows down by the stream, till he reached the path leading up to the Hall garden, where he stopped short, gave the order, and the man blew a cheery call, which echoed and re-echoed from the red stone walls.
Then, riding forward with his white flag well displayed, he advanced boldly to the front of the barricaded porch.
For a few minutes he sat there gazing up at the front, and wondering that no heed was paid to his coming. So still was everything, that it seemed as if the Hall had been deserted, till, happening to glance to his left, he caught sight of a dark eye at one of the windows, and directly after he realised that this eye was glancing along a heavy piece, the owner taking careful aim at him as if about to fire.
It was impossible under the circumstances to avoid a feeling of trepidation; but second thoughts came to whisper to him as it were—
“You are under a flag of truce—an ambassador, and sacred.”
“But he might be ignorant, and fire,” thought Fred, as he glanced to his right, where, to his horror, he saw a second man taking aim at him, and apparently only waiting the word.