“Come, Colonel, if you can manage to spin round like that, you need not despair of compassing the national salute. But here we are at Sir Roland’s door. Are we allowed to go in? or what are the orders of the doctor?”
“Oh yes; he is quite unconscious. You might fire off a cannon close to his ear, without his starting a hair’s breadth. He will be so for three days, the doctor thinks; and then he will awake, and live or die according as the will of the Lord is.”
“Most of us do that,” answered the parson; “but what shall I say to his daughter?”
“Leave her to me. I will take her a message, sir. I have been hoaxed so in the army, that now I can hoax any one.”
“I believe you are right. She will listen to you a great deal more than she would to me. Moreover, I want to be off, as soon as I have seen poor Sir Roland. I shall ride on, and ask how the Chapmans are. I don’t believe they are dead; they are far too tough. What a blessing it is to have you here, Colonel, with the house in such a state! How is that confounded old woman, who lies at the bottom of all this mischief?”
“Lady Valeria Lorraine,” said the Colonel, rather stiffly, “is as well as can be expected, sir. She has been to see her son Sir Roland, and her grandson Hilary. My opinion is that this brave girl inherits her spirit from her grandmother. Whatever happens, I am sure of one thing, she ought to be the mother of heroes, sir; not the wife of Steenie Chapman.”
“Ah’s me!” cried the Rector; “it will take a brave man to marry her, after what she has done.”
“Stuff and nonsense!” answered the Colonel; “a good man will value her all the more, and scorn the opinion of the county, sir.”
The Rector, in his own stout heart, was much of the same persuasion; but it would not do for him to say so yet. So, after a glance at Sir Roland’s wan and death-like features, he rode forth with a sigh, to look after the Chapmans.
