As Mary's glance fell upon the young Englishman, she flushed a little, and holding her chin a bit higher than before, turned her eyes in another direction—but not until he saw the angry flash in them.
A faint smile touched his lips as he lifted his hat, and then an eager look came to his eyes as he saw the small figure following close behind her, whose steps seemed to falter as she neared him.
Just then there was a call from above stairs; and as one of the guards ascended hastily to answer it, Captain Southorn said something in a low tone to the other one—quite a young man—standing beside him.
He listened, and then shook his head, but hesitatingly, as he glanced toward Dorothy, who was looking wistfully at his prisoner.
Good Mistress Trask had chanced to overhear what the Britisher said; and speaking to the young soldier, she exclaimed testily: "Fiddlesticks, Tommy Macklin! Why not let him speak a word to the young lady, when he asks ye so polite-like? What harm can come of it? They be old acquaintances."
Tommy seemed to waver; but being a good-hearted young fellow, as well as standing somewhat in awe of the landlady, who was a distant relative, he made no farther objection, and nodded his consent.
Southorn gave Mistress Trask a grateful smile, and stepping quickly to where Dorothy was standing, took her hand and led her a few steps away from the others, as he asked in a low voice, "Do you know what is to be done with me, sweetheart?"
"Only that you are to go to Cambridge," was the hurried reply.
"I knew that much myself," he said smilingly. "But what is the meaning of all this sudden stir?"
"They say the—British are marching toward the inn," she whispered, her mind troubled by the fear that she had no right to give him this information.