The officer signed to the soldier, who roughly dragged him aside by
the cord that tied his hands, cutting them severely, though he
disdained to show any sign of pain.
"Young maiden," continued the rebel, turning to Rose, "what sayest
thou? Wilt thou see thy brother led away to death, when the breath
of thy mouth might save him?"
Poor Rose turned as pale as death, but her answer was steady: "I
will say nothing."
"Little ones, then," said the officer, fiercely, "speak, or you shall
taste the rod. Do you know where your brother is?"
"No--no," sobbed Lucy; and her mother added, "They know nothing,
sir."
"It is loss of time to stand parleying with women and children," said
the officer, rising. "Here," to one of his men, "keep the door. Let
none quit the chamber, and mark the children's talk. The rest with
me. Where is the fellow that brought the tidings?"
Diggory, who had slunk out of sight, was pushed forward by two of the
soldiers, and at the same time there was a loud scream from Deborah.
"Oh! Diggory, is it you? Oh! my Lady, my Lady, forgive me! I meant
no harm! Oh! who would have thought it?" And in an agony of
distress, she threw her apron over her face, and, sinking on the
bench, rocked herself to and fro, sobbing violently.
In the meantime, the officer and his men, all but the sentinel, had
left the room to search for the fugitive, leaving Lady Woodley
sitting exhausted and terrified in her chair, the little ones
clinging around her, Walter standing opposite, with his hands bound;
Rose stood by him, her arm round his neck, proud of his firmness, but
in dreadful terror for him, and in such suspense for Edmund, that her
whole being seemed absorbed in agonised prayer.
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