“Not mine, Sir Marmaduke. Alas! not mine, but the king’s.”
“And where am I to be taken? But I forget. I need not have asked.”
“The place is mentioned in the despatch.”
“The time too!”
“I regret it is so,” rejoined Scarthe, with a pretence of being pained in the performance of his duty. “By this document you will perceive, that my orders are peremptory.”
“I presume, I shall be permitted to take leave of my family?”
“It grieves me to the heart, Sir Marmaduke, to inform you that my instructions are painfully stringent. Even that has been made a part of them.”
“Then I am not to bid farewell to my children, before parting with them—perhaps, for ever?”
“Do not talk thus, sir,” said Scarthe, with a show, of profound sympathy. “There must be a misunderstanding. Some enemy has been abusing you to the ear of the king. Let us hope it will be nothing serious in the end. I wish it were otherwise; but I am instructed in a confidential despatch—that, after making known the order for your arrest, I am not to permit any communication between you and your friends—even the members of your own family—except in my presence.”
“In your presence be our parting then. Can I summon my children hither?”