“I will not ask how this letter was brought you, father; “but I am sorry to find we have traitors in the castle.”
“Those traitors are my friends,” remarked Rosworm. “No word must be said of this matter to the countess.”
“She ought to know it, father,” rejoined Gertrude.
“She must not, child,” said Rosworm, sternly, and authoritatively. “It is sufficient that I shall not avail myself of the offer made me.”
“But by the same means which would be employed for your flight a secret communication may be kept up with the enemy.”
“That cannot be helped,” said her father.
“I do not feel that I shall be doing my duty to the countess by keeping silence, father.”
“Your duty is to me, child. I lay my commands upon you. You will not dare to disobey them.”
Well knowing that remonstrance would be useless, Gertrude did not attempt it, but she said:
“Would it were possible, father, that you could aid this noble lady to defend her mansion against the rebels!”
Rosworm shook his head, but his looks showed that her entreaties had produced some impression.
Seeing this, she flung herself on her knees before him, and exclaimed:
“I will not rise till you grant my prayer! Aid her, I implore you, dear father! aid her!”
“I cannot, daughter,” replied Rosworm. “My sympathies are with her, but I must not—cannot aid her. Besides,” he added, after a pause, “I do not think she needs assistance.”
“You give me hopes,” she cried, rising to her feet. “You are of opinion that the countess will triumph?”
“From what I have seen since I came here I am convinced she can hold out till the Earl of Derby comes to her deliverance.”
“May I tell her you have said so? It will give her hopes.”
“As you please,” he replied. “It is really my opinion.”
Just then, the door was opened, and Standish entered the room.
“I bring you good news, Colonel Rosworm,” he said. “You are no longer a prisoner.”
“I will not suppose for a moment that you are jesting with me, Captain Standish,” rejoined Rosworm. “But I am scarcely able to credit the intelligence.”
“What has happened?” asked Gertrude, equally astonished.
“Your father has been ransomed,” replied Standish. “A letter has just been brought from Sir Thomas Fairfax, offering a large sum as a ransom for Colonel Rosworm, and the countess has accepted the offer. You are therefore free, and can return with the messenger. Her ladyship has sent me to convey the intelligence to you, well knowing the errand would be agreeable to me.”
“I thank you heartily, Captain Standish,” rejoined Rosworm. “The intelligence is wholly unexpected on my part, for I need scarcely say I have had no communication with Sir Thomas Fairfax, and I did not think he valued my services so highly as to offer a ransom for my liberation.”
“Then you will depart at once, father,” cried Gertrude, “and again join the ranks of the enemy.”
“I shall not depart without taking leave of the countess,” rejoined Rosworm, “and thanking her for the generous treatment I have experienced.”
“Her ladyship has descended from the Eagle Tower, and is now on the parade,” said Standish “I will conduct you to her.”
Having no preparations to make for his departure, Rosworm at once accompanied Standish to the outer court, where they found the countess and her usual attendants.
At some little distance stood the Parliamentary officer who had brought the message from Sir Thomas Fairfax.
“Colonel Rosworm is come to take leave of your ladyship,” said Standish, leading the somewhile prisoner forward.
Rosworm bowed deeply, and in accents that bespoke his sincerity, thanked the countess for the great kindness she had shown him.
“Rarely has a prisoner of war been treated as I have been,” he said ; “and I shall ever entertain a grateful sense of your ladyship’s kindness. But I fear I shall never be able to requite it. May I ask if you have made any stipulations in regard to my release?”
“None whatever,” she replied. “You are free to act as you think proper. Had I made any bargain I would have consulted you.”