“Well, my boy, what of me?”
“You— Oh, father. Must I speak out. Don’t be angry with me. I have no right to say such things to you, but I always looked upon Scar Markham as a brother, and they always treated me at the Hall as if I was a son; and it does seem so terrible for you to be going up at the head of armed men to attack our dear old friends.”
Colonel Forrester stood with his brow knit.
“You are angry with me, father; but I can’t help speaking. I say it seems so terrible. You ought not to do this thing.”
Fred’s hesitation had gone. He had taken the plunge, and now he felt desperate, and ready to speak on to the end. He gazed full in the stern face with the lowering brows, but it checked him no longer. His words came fast, and he caught his father by the arm.
“If you speak to General Hedley, he will listen to you, for Sir Godfrey is your oldest friend; and think, father, how horrible it would be if the Markhams were to be killed.”
The brows appeared to be knit more closely, and Colonel Forrester’s gaze seemed fierce enough to wither his son.
But Fred kept on, begging and importuning his father to do something to change the general’s purpose, without obtaining any reply.
“Then you are going to lead the attack on the Hall, father?” said Fred at last.
The colonel turned upon him sharply.