“In what way, colonel?” he queried anxiously. “Are you thinking of any special danger?”
“I am, indeed; and to our dear ones.”
“But how? From what—whom?”
“Rather ask ‘from where?’ and I’ll answer ‘Monmouth.’ Now that the Royalists are masters there, almost for certain they’ll be raiding up into the Forest; and likely, too likely, a party pay visit to Hollymead. That, as you know, Trevor, were danger enough to those we have fears for?”
“But now that their father has gone to fetch them away? He should be there long before this.”
“And long before this may be too late. Just what I’m most anxious about—the time of his arrival at Hollymead; for I know he won’t stay there an instant. Poor man! he’s sadly repentant of his imprudent act, and will make all haste to bring them back with him. The fear is of the flood having delayed him too long at starting—my fear.”
“Good Heavens?” exclaimed the young officer; “let us hope not.”
“If Massey were here,” continued the other, a thought striking him, “I’d ask leave to go after him. Indeed, I feel half-inclined to take it, without asking.”
“And why not, Colonel? We could be at Ruardean and back before morning—riding at a pace.”
Sir Richard was silent, seeming to ponder. Only for a few seconds; when, as if resolved, he sprang to his feet, saying,—