"Not yet awhile, my boy. We must only think of those we love when our
duty to our country is done."

They rode on in silence for a time, with Fred picturing, amid the
trampling of hoofs and jingle of weapons, the scenes of his boyhood, but
to be awakened from his dream by his father's voice.

"Do not talk about our destination. I only tell you, my boy, because it
is a matter which interests us both."

"No, father. You may trust me."

"I know that, or I should not speak. Our destination is--"

"Not the Manor, father?"

"No, my boy, the Hall."

Fred sat staring wildly at his father, as bit by bit he grasped what
this really meant to these who had always been their nearest friends;
and then, bubbling over with excitement, he exclaimed--

"Oh, father, Sir Godfrey will think this is your doing."

"Yes, my boy."

"And is it, father?"

There was a pause.

"Oh, father, how could you?"

"Don't misjudge me, boy," said the colonel, sternly. "I have done
everything I could to stop it."

"And--"

"Failed, Fred. It is a strong position for many reasons, and I have
been compelled, by my duty to my country, to hold my peace. Rein back."

It was the officer speaking now, and Fred checked his steed till Samson
was nearly abreast of him again, when, after quite a dozen attempts to
draw his young master into conversation, Samson muttered to himself, "In
the grumps;" and rode on in silence too.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

A PETITION TO THE GENERAL.

It seemed to Fred Forrester a strange stroke of fate, when, after three
days' slow and steady advance, feeling their way cautiously, as if at
any hour they might meet the enemy, he rode with the advance to take
possession of the Hall, for in spite of the colonel offering his own
home again, the general kept to his decision that the Hall was the more
suitable place for head-quarters.

The day was bright as one of those when, full of boyish spirits, he used
to run over to spend the day with Scarlett Markham; and where was he
now? A fugitive, perhaps; who could say where? And Sir Godfrey, where
was he?

Fred felt very sad as he rode on, with the horses' hoofs trampling
deeply into the soft green turf. But how beautiful it all seemed, with
the rich red-brown stone of the old house contrasting so well with the
green of the stately trees. The lake glistened like a sheet of silver
in the sunshine, and all seemed familiar and welcome, and yet somehow as
though c