“No, Sir Godfrey,” cried Fred, hastily; “right or wrong, I’d sooner go and jump off Rill Head into the sea than give you up.”
“Ah, my lad,” said Sir Godfrey, faintly, “these are sad times; but, for pity’s sake, tell me—my wife and child?”
“Quite, quite safe, Sir Godfrey.”
“Ah!” ejaculated the wounded man; and then, as he stretched out his hand to Fred, “God bless you for that news!”
Fred eagerly grasped the extended hand, and wrung it, to turn directly after in a shamefaced way toward Scarlett, as if apologising to him for letting his father grasp hands with so bitter a foe.
Scarlett stood gazing sadly at him for a few moments, and then slowly raised his own cold, thin hand, which was literally snatched by Fred, and the lads stood together in silence, neither daring to trust himself to speak.
Fred was the first to break the silence.
“What would it be best for me to do, Sir Godfrey?” he said at last.
“Send for some of your men, my boy, and I will surrender.”
“Father!” cried Scarlett, in anguished tones.