Crown and Sceptre Part 27

To his great surprise, as he entered the house, he found that supper was not begun.

"Been waiting for me, mother?" he cried to the calm, sweet-faced lady seated working by the light of rather a dim candle.

"No, Fred," she said, smiling gravely, as she drew him down and kissed his brow.

"Because I had mine with Scar. Where's father?"

"In the library. He has a gentleman with him."

"Gentleman?"

"Yes; he has come from Bristol to see your father on business."

"Oh!" said Fred, carelessly; and he sat down and rested his head upon his hand.

"Does your head ache, my boy?" asked his mother.

"Head? No, mother. I was only thinking," said the boy, as his mother's words brought him back from wandering in the water-floored pa.s.sage.

"Thinking of your studies?"

Fred started a little, for his studies had been rather neglected of late.

"No, mother, only of a hunt Scar and I had in the Hall woods to-day."

It was in the boy's heart to tell his mother all that had pa.s.sed, and their discovery from beginning to end, but he argued, "If I do, it will not be a secret any longer."

There was a pause.

"Father said that a well-intentioned boy would have no secrets from his father and mother, and that they should be always looked upon as his best friends. But it isn't mine altogether," argued Fred, after another very long pause; "and I've no business to tell Scar's secret to any one till he has told it to his own father and mother; and, besides, as it's a private place, they would not like any one to know about it, and--"

"Yes, Forrester, we may throw away all compunction now," said a loud, firm voice; and Fred rose from his seat as his father entered in company with a tall, broad-shouldered man, whose grizzled, slightly curly hair was cut very close to his head, and whose eyes seemed to pierce the boy, as he gave him a sternly searching look. He had a stiff, military bearing, and he did not walk down the long low room, but seemed to march rather awkwardly, as if he had been riding a great deal.

He nodded familiarly to Mistress Forrester, who looked at him in rather a troubled way, as he marched straight to Fred, slapped him sharply on the shoulder, and gripped it so hard as to give him acute pain. But the boy did not flinch, only set his teeth hard, knit his brow, and gazed resentfully in the visitor's dark eyes, which seemed full of malice and enjoyment in the pain he was giving.

"So this is Fred, is it?" he said in a harsh voice, which sounded as if he was ordering Colonel Forrester to answer.

"Yes, sir," said Mistress Forrester, with dignity, "this is our son;"

and she looked wonderfully like her boy in the resentful glance she darted at her guest, for she could read Fred's suffering.

"Hah! made of the right stuff, like his father, Mistress Forrester. Did that hurt you, my boy?"

"Of course it did," said Fred, sharply.

"Then why didn't you cry out or flinch, eh?"

This was accompanied by a tighter grip, which seemed as if the stranger's fingers were made of iron.

The grip was but momentary, and the boy stood like a rock.

"Well," said the stranger again, "why didn't you cry out?"

"Because I would not," replied the boy, frowning.

"Shake hands."

Fred tried to hold back, but the command was so imperious, and the firm, sinewy hand before his face seemed to draw him, and he laid his own within it, to feel the fingers close in a warm but gentle grasp, the pressure being firm and kindly; and in place of the fierce look a pleasant, winning expression came into the visitor's countenance, while the left hand was now clapped upon the boy's shoulder, and closed in a pressure as agreeable as the other was harsh.

"Glad to know you, my lad. That's frank and manly of you. The right stuff in him, Mistress Forrester. He'll make a good man, colonel.

Well?"

"I didn't speak, sir," said Fred, in answer to the question and look.

"That's right, too. Don't be in too great a hurry to speak," said the visitor; and somehow, to his own astonishment, Fred felt himself drawn toward this imperious personage, who seemed to take command of every one in the place. "Well, Forrester, you'll make a soldier of him."

"I--"

The hesitatingly spoken p.r.o.noun came from Mistress Forrester, who seemed checked by the guest's quick look of reproof.

"I had not decided yet," said Colonel Forrester, gravely; and Fred noticed that his father seemed to have suddenly grown rigid and stern in manner and tone of voice. "What do you say, Fred? should you like to be a soldier?"

"Yes, father; like you have been."

"No, no, Fred, my boy!" cried his mother.

"Madam," said their guest, "ladies do not always understand Latin, but a certain Roman poet called Horace once said, '_Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori_'. Let me modify it by saying, 'to offer in time of need to die for your country.' It does not follow that a man who fights for his home and liberty dies. Good lad. Be a soldier."

"I will, sir," said Fred, firmly. "Father didn't die, mother."

"No, nor you shall not, my boy. There, now, we know one another, and I hope we shall become well-tried friends."

"But I don't know you yet, sir. You have not told me your name."

The visitor clapped Fred on the shoulder again, and there was a merry, kindly light in his eyes as he cried--

"Come, I like this, Forrester. Your Coombeland boys are the genuine, frank English stuff. Fred, my lad, I like your out-spoken ways. From some lads it would have been insolence, but from you it seems st.u.r.dy, honest independence. You may know me for the present, my boy, as Captain Miles."

"Miles, a soldier," said Fred to himself but the visitor heard him.

"Right," he cried. "Miles, a soldier. Mistress Forrester, I congratulate you on your home and surroundings. And now, pardon my frankness, I have travelled far to-day and I journey far to-morrow, I am a-hungered and a-thirst, madam; and afterwards, as your good husband and tried soldier and I have done our business, I shall be glad to press a pleasant west-country bed."

With winning courtesy, but at the same time with a half-shrinking, troubled look in her eyes, Mistress Forrester led the way to the table, and as soon as he was seated the guest seemed to cast off his imperious military manner, and become the courtly scholarly gentleman who had read much, travelled far, and thought deeply. So pleasant and interesting was his conversation that Fred grew more and more attracted by him, and listened with wide-open eyes to all he said.

Only once did the business-like, firm and decisive officer appear after supper, when he suddenly apologised and rose.

"I have an old-fashioned way of looking after my best friends, Mistress Forrester," he said. "At the present moment, on this journey, my horse is one of my best friends. You will excuse my visiting him?"

"If you will trust me, Captain Miles," said Colonel Forrester, placing some emphasis on the name, "I can promise you that your good horse has everything that will help him to make a long journey to-morrow."