"Ay, waiting for you, sire. I knew you would come this way, since none other is open to you. I am ready to conduct you to Scotland."
"But I will not return thither to be the slave I have been," cried Charles. "I will rather die in England."
"Humour him, my liege—humour him. He may be of use now," observed Buckingham, in a low tone.
"Your majesty has now no option," remarked Lesley, coldly. "You must go back to Scotland. I will insure you a safe retreat. 'Tis for that purpose I have reserved my troops."
"Say you so?" cried Charles. "Then I must needs go with you. But I must wait here for my friends."
"Your majesty will have to wait long ere some of them join you," said Lesley.
"At least they have not deserted me," rejoined the king.
[CHAPTER XXXI.]
THE LAST STAND MADE BY THE ROYALISTS.