He walked on by his father in silence, while the latter gazed straight before him, thinking to himself of the past, when he and Sir Godfrey were the fastest of friends.
“This cruel war!” he said to himself. “Friend against friend, brother against brother. Poor Godfrey! Poor Scarlett! So full of brave manliness and courage. Fitting end for two brave spirits; but I feel as if I had assisted at their death.”
But at that moment Fred made a mental effort.
“I will not believe it,” he said, with a shudder. “It is too horrible.” Then aloud, “Father, may I take something to the prisoners, and help them? They look very bad.”
“Yes, yes; of course,” said the colonel, starting as it were back to the present. “Poor fellows! The surgeon must be with them now; but go and do your best.”
But hard as Fred worked by the light of the burning house, he could do little to assuage the pains, mental and bodily, of the prisoners. They assumed a careless indifference, a good-humoured contempt for their captors. They were Cavaliers—gentlemen who did not scruple to serve as ordinary soldiers for the benefit of their country; and they smiled at the rough stern men of the Puritan ranks. But deep in their hearts there was a despairing rage at being conquered, which bit and stung, and made them writhe more than the throbbings of their wounds.
The refreshments Fred took to them, helped by Samson, were simple, but most welcome; and more than one eye brightened and directed a friendly grateful look at the lad who busied himself on the captives’ behalf.
“No; no more, my boy,” said the tall, fair Cavalier, smiling at Fred, as he pressed him to eat. “I have a wound here that throbs as if some one were thrusting a red-hot iron through my shoulder. I suppose it is all right, but your surgeon has not hands like some delicate lady.”
“Can I do anything?” said Fred, eagerly. “Shall I bathe the wound?”
“No, my desperate and deadly enemy, no,” said the Cavalier, smiling as he look Fred’s hand; “and look here: some of these days the war will be over, and if you and I are not sleeping too soundly, you must come and see me, and I’ll come and see you. At present our duty is to kill each other, or take one another prisoner. By-and-by we shall have more time. There,” he said, drawing a ring from his finger; “you wear that, and remember that Harry Grey always feels respect and esteem for a brave enemy, while for you— Oh, curse it! We are not enemies. God bless you, my lad! You and Scar Markham ought to be working together as a pair.”