“What?”
“Hush! Don’t look like that. I’m gammoning my lady, so as they shan’t send me away like t’others. You’ve got a strong man here when you and Ben Martlet wants to make a fight for it again. Oh-h-h!”
He groaned as he saw one of the wounded Parliamentarians looking in their direction, and Roy rose hurriedly and joined his mother, feeling as if he were playing false.
They finished their round of the place, and then went out into the corridor to talk.
“Don’t speak about our disaster, Roy,” said Lady Royland, clinging to his hand. “We must bear it, and your father cannot blame us for our reverse. There, I shall be busy here, and we must be thankful that we have fallen into the hands of General Hepburn, whose kindness and consideration are far more than we could have expected. He has only one fault—he is an enemy.”
“Then you don’t blame me for feeling as if I half liked him, mother?”
“We can like the man, Roy, without liking his principles,” said Lady Royland, calmly. “Come and see me as often as you can; I shall generally be here, but I suppose you can come to my room sometimes.”
“I suppose so,” said Roy. “I believe I am to keep mine.”
“Yes; General Hepburn told me you should; but, Roy, you will be careful.”
“What—about trying to retake the place?”