"_Re-arrest all prisoners on parole, whether soldiers or civilians.
Search the city through, and send them, under guard to the Castle_.
"Fiennes.
"_To the Colonel Walwyn_."
"Here's a _revanche_ for us, Trevor," said the knight, communicating the
contents of the despatch to his young troop captain, "if we are
ill-natured enough to care for such. Anyhow, we'll stop the speech of
some of those fellows who've been making themselves so free of it.
Haste down to quarters, and bring Sergeant Wilde with half a dozen
files. We may as well begin our work here. Why, bless me! there's the
man himself, and the soldiers, too!"
This, at the sight of the big sergeant, who was just entering the gate,
and behind him a score of dismounted troopers. Rob had already received
orders from the Castle to report himself with a detachment at Montserrat
House.
A scene followed difficult of description. Kings, Sultans, Crusaders--
in costume only--with many other disguised dignitaries, were
unceremoniously stopped in their masquerading; each taken charge of by a
common trooper, and pinned to the spot. Many repented the imprudence of
having thrown aside their masks. By keeping these on they might have
escaped recognition. It was too late to restore them; and in a few
minutes' time the paroled prisoners were picked out, and ranged in line
for transport to the Castle's keep.
In all this there was much of the comic and grotesque; on both sides
even badinage and laughter. But there was anger too--Madame Lalande and
her daughter especially indignant--while among the faces late unmasked
were some showing serious enough, even rueful. To them it might be no
jesting matter in the end.
On the countenance of Reginald Trevor--of course one of the
re-arrested--the expression was singularly varied. As well it might,
after so many changes quick succeeding one another--jealousy of his
cousin; confidence in his sweetheart restored soon to be lost again; and
now that cousin confronting him, as was his duty, with a demand terribly
humiliating. Yet Eustace had no desire to make it so; instead the
reverse. For, meanwhile, Sir Richard had whispered a word in his ear
which went far to remove the suspicions late tormenting _him_. He but
said,--
"I've orders to take you to the Castle, Reginald."
Then to avoid speech, which might be unpleasant to both, he turned away,
leaving the prisoner to be looked after by Rob Wilde, who had commands
to conduct him to his prison.
"Come, captain!" said the big sergeant patronisingly, "we han't a great
ways to go. Not nigh sich a distance as ye 'tended takin' me--frae
Cat's Hill to the lock-up at Lydney."
The Royalist officer keenly felt the satirical jibe flung at him by the
Forester, but far more the play of a pair of eyes that were looking down
upon him from one of the upper windows. For there stood Vaga Powell, a
witness to all that was passing below. In a position almost identical
he had seen her twice before, with the expression upon her face very
similar. It puzzled him then, but did not vex him as now. For now he
better understood it; and, as he was marched off from Montserrat House,
he carried with him no sustaining faith or hope, as when riding away
from Hollymead.
Eustace also saw her at the window, as he was passing off. But
different was the look she gave him, and his given back. In their
exchanged glances there was a mutual intelligence, which told that their
respective guardian angels had kept promise by whispering sweet words to
both.