“I must go, Gil,” he said. “I have much to do. I have to fight with enemies, and to see to the ruling of my house. I could sit down and let things go, but I wish mine to be a country of which a man may be proud, and that means work for us.”
I made no reply, and he looked at me gravely.
“Good-bye; I am not angry. You are behaving very well, boy. I respect and esteem you the more. But be reasonable; try and see what is before you, and do not trifle with the great opportunity of your life.”
He nodded pleasantly to me, and we walked on together to where his horse had been led.
“I will send you some clothes,” he said. “I cannot send you an English uniform; but, whenever you like, men shall come to make that of my horse artillery according to your wish.” I made a quick gesture.
“When you like,” he said quietly. “I am not hurrying you, for you’re still too weak. When would you like your horse?”
“Directly,” I said, so eagerly that he smiled. “To try and escape,” he said sadly. I started and drew back.
“Yes,” I said firmly. “I shall try to escape, and as soon as I possibly can.”
He held out his hand again, and I gave mine reluctantly to be held in a firm grip.
“You make me like you, Gil,” he said, “even when you cause me most anger. I like that; it is so frank and honest. You must come to me. I shall never meet with another whom I can trust as I do you.”