As she caught sight of Hilary she made a snatch at his hand, and in a choking voice exclaimed:
“Oh, Hilary! don’t you know me again? Pray, pray save my poor father. Oh, you will not give him up?”
The young man’s heart seemed to stand still as the dilemma in which he was placed forced itself upon him. He was in his majesty’s service, and in the king’s name he ought to have called upon this gentleman, a well-known Jacobite, to surrender, and tell the lieutenant who he was.
On the other hand, if he did this unpleasant duty he would be betraying a dear old companion of his father, a man who had watched his own career with interest and helped him through many a little trouble; and, above all, he would be, as the thought flashed upon him, sending Adela’s father—his own old companion’s father—to the scaffold.
These thoughts flashed through his mind, and with them recollections of those delightful schoolboy days that he had passed at the Old Manor House, Sir Henry’s pleasant home, in Sussex, when boy and girl he and Adela had roamed the woods, boated on the lake, and fished the river hard by.
“No,” he muttered between his teeth; “I meant to be a faithful officer to my king; but I’d sooner jump overboard than do such dirty work as that.”
There was an angry look in the young girl’s eyes; and as Hilary read her thoughts he could not help thinking how bright and beautiful a woman she was growing. He saw that she believed he was hesitating, and there was something scornful in her gaze, an echo, as it were, of that of her grey-haired, careworn father, whose eyebrows even seemed to have turned white, though his dark eyes were fiery as ever.
There was no doubt about it; they believed that he would betray them, and there was something almost of loathing in Adela Norland’s face as her hood fell back, and the motion she made to place her hands in her father’s brought her head out of the shadow into the bright morning light.
“Thank ye, ma’am,” said Hilary in a rough, brisk voice; “I was just going to ask you to move. You’d better come in, Tom Tully, there’s a lot of things to move. P’r’aps this gentleman will stand outside.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” growled Tom Tully, as Hilary darted one meaning look at the proscribed man.