“Then we may visit both at once; and, as the older woodman is expected to return home to-night, I shall not go until to-morrow. How far is it to this Wapsey’s Wood?”
“Scant two miles, captain. It’s up the road in the direction of Beaconsfield.”
“Enough. I shall go on horseback. After morning parade, see that you have the grey horse saddled, and your own as well. Now, be off to your quarters, and say nothing to any of your comrades what duty you are going on—nor to any of your country acquaintances neither—else you may get yourself in trouble. Go!”
The trooper, making a salute, expressive of assent to the caution thus delivered, betook himself from the presence of his commanding officer.
“He’s but a silly fellow, this Withers,” muttered the latter, as the soldier had gone out of hearing. “Not the man for my purpose. His knowledge of the neighbourhood—the only one of my vagabonds who has ever been in it before—makes it a necessity to employ him in this matter. Perhaps in Wull Walford I may find a more intelligent aide-de-camp. Nous verrons!”
And with this conjectural reflection, Scarthe threw himself back in his chair; and once more gave way to the gloomy surmises that had already tormented his unhappy mind.
Again did they torment him as before; and it was a relief to him when the door once more turned upon its hinges, and his subaltern stepped into the room.
Not that Stubbs had any cheering news to communicate; nor was there just then anything encouraging in his countenance. On the contrary, the cornet looked but little less lugubrious than his captain; and he had been in that mood ever since morning.
Lora Lovelace would scarce condescend to exchange a word with him; and when by chance he had twice or thrice been thrown into her company, it was only to find himself the subject of a slight or a satire, and the next moment to receive the cold shoulder. All this, too, so delicately done, that Stubbs could find no opportunity for retaliation; unless by allowing licence to his vulgar spite, which Scarthe had cautioned him against. In fact, the cornet felt that the young lady, on more than one occasion, had made a butt of him—he did, by Ged!
He had, at an earlier hour, communicated to his captain the ill success of his wooing; but the latter was too much absorbed in his own schemes, to offer him either advice or assistance.