Roy gets over his Fit.
The dawn came, and Lady Royland still knelt by the couch where her son slept heavily. She did not stir till the sun rose, and then she rose softly to go to the narrow slit in the massive wall, reach as far as she could into the deep splay, and gaze out.
She sighed, for far-away in the distance she could see mounted men with the sun flashing from their armour.
She turned back, for she had learned all she wished to know—the enemy was still there; and, wondering what that day might bring forth, she went and sat down now by her son’s head to watch him as he slept.
The time crept on with the sounds of the awakening household mingled with the clangour of the morning calls and the tramp of armed men floating in through the window; but the watcher did not stir till the door was opened, and a couple of the maids appeared, to start back in affright, after a wondering glance at the untouched meal upon the table, for Lady Royland rose quickly with a gesture to them to be silent.
They crept away, and she followed to the door.
“Prepare the breakfast in the library,” she said, and then returned to her seat.
The clock chimed and struck again and again, but Roy did not wake; and at last one of the maids came and tapped very softly.
“Breakfast is quite ready, my lady,” she whispered.
“I am not coming till my son wakes,” replied Lady Royland. “Ask Master Pawson not to wait.”