“Also I have not supped.”
“My poor father. But in two hours' time you will have supper. We sleep at—but that I must not say.”
“Where does this journey end? Am I to have no news at all, my dear?”
“You promised, remember, so I will tell you. Tony and I are taking you to Chastlecote.”
Mr. Lovel whistled. “A long road and an ill. The wind blows bitter on Cotswold in December. I would be happier in my own house.”
“But not safe.” The girl's voice was very earnest. “Believe me, dearest father, we have thought only of you. Tony says that London streets will soon be running blood. He has it from secret and sure sources. There is a King's faction in the Army and already it is in league with the Scots and our own party to compass the fall of Cromwell. He says it will be rough work and the innocent will die with the guilty.... When he told me that, I feared for your life—and Tony, too, for he loves you. So we carry you to Chastlecote till January is past, for by then Tony says there will be peace in England.”
“I thank you, Cis,—and Tony also, who loves me. But if your news be right, I have a duty to do. I am of Cromwell's party, as you and Tony are of the King's. You would not have me run from danger.”
She primmed her pretty mouth. “You do not run, you are carried off. Remember your promise.”
“But a promise given under duress is not valid in law.”
“You are a gentleman, sir, before you are a lawyer. Besides, there are six of Tony's men with us—and all armed.”