Comprehending at once what had occurred, Charles merely said, "Bring in Colonel Roscarrock."
And as the aide-de-camp departed, he arose and paced the cabinet with anxious steps, trying to summon his firmness for the painful interview.
Presently Careless returned supporting the colonel, whose left arm was in a sling.
Roscarrock was a tall, soldier-like, handsome man, but loss of blood and excessive fatigue gave a haggard expression to his features. The dusty state of his apparel and boots showed that he had ridden far.
"Alas, sire, I bring you bad news!" he exclaimed, in dolorous accents.
"Be seated, colonel, and I will hear you," said Charles, aiding him to a chair. "We have sustained a defeat, I perceive, but ere you enter into details, relieve my anxiety respecting the Earl of Derby."
"His lordship is sore hurt," replied Roscarrock, "but he is in safety, and will be with your majesty ere many days."
"Thank Heaven for that!" exclaimed Charles, earnestly.
"You have lost many loyal subjects and brave soldiers, sire," pursued Roscarrock. "Lord Widdrington is mortally wounded, if not dead. Sir William Throckmorton cannot survive. Sir Thomas Tildesley, Colonel Boynton, Colonel Trollope, and Colonel Galliard are slain."
"Alas! brave Widdrington! Alas! brave Tildesley! have I lost you?" ejaculated Charles, mournfully. "Where did this dire disaster occur?"