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The New Forest Spy, a fiction by George Manville Fenn

Chapter 3. On Parole

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_ CHAPTER THREE. ON PAROLE

The words sounded so real, and there was such a deathly aspect in the pallor and the cold perspiration that started upon the prostrate lad's ghastly-looking face, that Waller was convinced at once, and quickly rising from where he sat he bent over and raised the lad's head a little, but only to lay it down again as the poor fellow fell back quite insensible.

But the attack passed off as quickly as it had come, and, relieved by the removal of the heavy pressure upon his chest, he began to breathe more freely, his eyes opened slowly in a wild stare of wonder as if he could not comprehend where he was, and then, as his senses fully returned, a faint smile dawned upon his thin lips.

"Don't laugh at me," he said. "It was like a great girl. I must have fainted dead away."

"Yes, you did, and no mistake," said Waller. "Come down to the stream and have a drink of water.--If I let you get up you won't try to escape?"

"No," said the lad bitterly, as he raised one hand, and let it fall again heavily amongst the bracken. "I am as weak as a child."

"Yes," said Waller, "you are. Now, look here; you remember what you said about the honour of a gentleman?"

The lad bowed his head slightly.

"You are a gentleman?"

"Yes."

"Then give me your word that you won't try to escape."

"I will not try to escape. I could not if I wished. I tell you it is all over now, I am taken at last."

"I say," cried Waller, gazing at the poor fellow anxiously, "why are you here? What have you done?" And then slowly, and in almost a whisper, as he glanced sharply round for the pistol, "You haven't killed anybody, have you?"

"Killed! No! What have I done? Nothing that should disgrace a gentleman. Nothing but fight for the cause of my lawful king."

Waller looked at the lad curiously, for his words and the wildness of his looks again brought up the idea that he was a little off his head.

"But I say," he said, "if you were fighting, as you call it, for your lawful king, why should the soldiers be after you?"

"Because I am an enemy--a follower of the Stuarts."

"Oh," said Waller, in a puzzled tone, as the lad slowly and painfully rose and then snatched at something to save himself, for he reeled. "Here, I say, you are weak," cried Waller, saving him from falling, "lean on me. The stream is just over there," and he led his feeble adversary down the slope to the nearest opening where he could lie down and reach over the bank to drink from the clear water in the most ancient and natural way--that is, by lowering his lips till they touched the surface.

The lad drank deeply, and then rose to a sitting position, making no effort to stand.

"Ah," he said faintly, "I feel better now. There," he went on, "I suppose you didn't know the soldiers were here?"

Waller shook his head, content to listen.

"They are; and you know all about the trouble--about the Stuarts making another stand for their rights?"

"Oh, not much," said Waller. "I have read, of course, about the Old Pretender and the Young Pretender."

"Pretenders!" said the lad bitterly. "Those who fought for their rights as heirs to the British Crown. They are at rest, but an heir still lives, and it is his fortunes we follow."

"Oh," said Waller thoughtfully. "Yes, I have heard of him--in France," and he looked more curiously in the other's eyes as he asked his next question, thinking the while of the slight accent in the lad's speech.

"But you have not come from there?"

"Yes," said the lad quietly, and with a bitter tone of sadness in his words; "we crossed over from Cherbourg--oh, it must be a month ago."

"We?" said Waller inquiringly.

"Yes; I came with my father and four other gentlemen to Lymington."

"And are they here in the forest?"

The lad looked at him wonderingly.

"No," he said; "they were all hunted down like wild beasts--treated as spies."

"And where are they now?" said Waller eagerly.

"Who knows?" replied the lad sadly. "Lingering in prison, if they have not already been shot. Quick! Tell me," he continued, catching Waller by the arm. "My father! Have you heard anything about him?"

"I? No," said Waller. "Oh, surely not shot! But in this quiet country place at the Manor we hear so little of what is going on. I can't help being so ignorant about all these things."

"You are all the happier, perhaps," said the lad sadly.

"Oh, I don't know," said Waller. "I am afraid I don't know much about what's going on. I am fond of being out here in the woods. It is holiday-time now my father's out. But I say," he continued, with a frank laugh, "isn't it rather funny that you and I should be talking together like this, after--you know--such a little while ago?"

"Yes, I suppose so; but I thought you were one of the enemy coming to take me."

"Yes," said Waller; "and I don't know what I thought about you when I was looking down the barrel of that pistol."

"I--I beg your pardon," faltered the lad. "I was half-mad."

"Quite mad, I think," said Waller to himself. Then aloud, "But, I say, why were you here?"

"I was hiding; trying to get down to the coast and make my way back to France. The soldiers have been hunting me for days, but I have escaped so far."

"To get back to France?" said Waller. "But are you not English?"

"Yes, of course. Don't I speak like an Englishman?"

"Well, there is a little something queer about it," said Waller--"a sort of accent."

"I said English," continued the other, "but my family, the Boynes, are of Irish descent, and staunch followers of the Stuarts."

"Yes; but that's all over now, you know," said Waller. "Don't you think you had better give all that up and go back?"

"I was trying to go back," said the lad despairingly.

"Or stop here."

"You talk like a follower of the Pretender," said the lad bitterly.

"That I don't!" cried Waller indignantly. "My father is a magistrate, and a staunch supporter of King George. But there, I didn't mean to talk like that," he cried, as he noted the change that came over his companion's face. "Here, I say, never mind about politics. You look-- well, very ill. Hadn't you better go home?"

"Go home! How? Separated from my friends, who perhaps by now are dead!" The words came with a sob, "Go! How? Hunted from place to place like a wolf!" He tried to rise, but sank back. "Ill? Yes," he groaned; "deadly faint. You don't know what I have suffered. I am starving."

"How long have you been here?" said Waller, whose sympathies were growing more and more strong in favour of his prisoner.

"I don't know. Days."

"But why were you starving?" said Waller half-indignantly.

"Why should I not be?" said the boy bitterly. "Alone in these wilds."

"Well," cried Waller. "I shouldn't have starved if I had been like you. I should have liked it, and had rather a jolly time," and he gazed hard at the delicate-looking lad, whose very aspect, in spite of his disorder, suggested that he had led a gentle life, possibly mingling with the followers of the Court.

The gaze was returned--a gaze full of wonderment.

"What would you have done?" said the stranger. "Eaten the bitter acorns and the leaves?"

"No," cried Waller, laughing, "I should just think not! Why, I should have done as Bunny Wrigg would--scraped myself out a good hole in the side of one of the sandpits, half-filled it with dry bracken for my bed, made a corner for my fire somewhere outside, and then had a good go in at the rabbits and the fish; and there are plenty of pig-nuts and truffles, if you know how to hunt for them. There are several places where you can get mushrooms out in the open part among the furze where the grass grows short; and then there's that kind that grows on the oak-trees. You can trap birds, too, or knock over ducks that come down the stream if you are lucky. I have several times got one with a bow and arrow. Oh, there are lots of ways to keep from starving out in the woods."

"Ah," said the lad feebly, "you are a country boy. I come from French cities, and know nothing of these things."

"Oh!" said Waller thoughtfully. "What have you had to eat this morning?"

The boy laughed sadly. "I have picked some leaves," he said.

"Picked some leaves!" cried Waller contemptuously. "Why didn't you hunt for some of the hens' eggs? There are lots about here, half-wild, that have strayed away from the farms and taken to the woods. Of course a raw egg is not so good as one nicely cooked, but it would keep a fellow from looking as bad as you do. Here, I say, I am sorry that I knocked you about so. I didn't know that you were so bad as this."

"It doesn't matter now," was the reply. "You had better give me up to the soldiers at once. I suppose they will give me something to eat. My pride's all gone now, and I only want to get it over and bring it to an end. It's very contemptible, I know, but it is very horrible, all the same."

"What is?" said Waller quickly.

"To feel that you are starving to death."

"There, now you are talking nonsense," said Waller warmly. "Why, of course it is. Who's going to starve to death? Here, I suppose I oughtn't to help you?"

"No; I am an enemy. Give me up to the soldiers as quickly as you can."

"Bother the soldiers!" cried Waller hotly. "Let them do their work themselves. I don't know anything about enemies. You are half-starved and ill, and if you stop till I come back I'll run off and get you something to eat. I could take you home with me at once, but if I did the servants would see you, and begin to talk, and then it might get to the ears of the soldiers, if there are any about. Don't run away till I come back with them," continued Waller, with a mocking laugh. "You don't want any more water, do you?"

The lad shook his head.

"Then creep in there under those ferns. Nobody could see you even if he came by, and Bunny Wrigg is the only one likely to be about here. Clever as he is, I don't suppose he would spy you out. Why, I shouldn't have seen you if you hadn't started up as you did. That's right. I shan't be long."

Waller snatched up the two joints of his rod, and the creel which he had thrown down, and started off at a smart trot in and out amongst the great beeches, not traversing the way by which he had come, but striking a bee-line for home. _

Read next: Chapter 4. A Raid On The Larder

Read previous: Chapter 2. A Surrender

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