“They are; and you know all about the trouble—about the Stuarts making another stand for their rights?”
“Oh, not much,” said Waller. “I have read, of course, about the Old Pretender and the Young Pretender.”
“Pretenders!” said the lad bitterly. “Those who fought for their rights as heirs to the British Crown. They are at rest, but an heir still lives, and it is his fortunes we follow.”
“Oh,” said Waller thoughtfully. “Yes, I have heard of him—in France,” and he looked more curiously in the other’s eyes as he asked his next question, thinking the while of the slight accent in the lad’s speech.
“But you have not come from there?”
“Yes,” said the lad quietly, and with a bitter tone of sadness in his words; “we crossed over from Cherbourg—oh, it must be a month ago.”
“We?” said Waller inquiringly.
“Yes; I came with my father and four other gentlemen to Lymington.”
“And are they here in the forest?”
The lad looked at him wonderingly.