"No, I will not. But Molly would understand. It is only that you are pulled down and weak. In a few days you will not feel inclined to cry. Never mind, Roy, things will be better by-and-by. You see, you and I can't help what Buonaparte does. He has to answer for himself. You and I have only to see that we do _our_ part in life bravely and rightly and truly. This is rather hard to bear, but it has to be borne, and we must try and be cheery for the sake of other people. Don't you see?" Something in the young man's voice made Roy ask, "Do you mind very, very much?" "What do you think? Wouldn't you mind in my place? Roy--if you have Molly at home, I have--Polly!" "Oh, it's just perfectly horrid!" sobbed Roy. "It's just as beastly as it can be!" * * * * * Roy had good reason to talk of "poor little Molly." Molly's state of mind during many days bordered on despair--so far as despair is possible to a healthy child. The very idea that weeks and months might pass before she could again see her beloved twin-brother was too dreadful. "Roy will be sent home, of course. It is out of the question that he should be allowed to stay in France. Think of the boy's education," Mrs. Fairbank said repeatedly. But others were not so sure. There is much variety in the different accounts given at the time, as to the number of English subjects who actually suffered arrest. Some estimates amount to as high a figure as ten thousand, but these appear to make no allowance for the rapid homeward rush just at the last. This assertion may be found in Sir Walter Scott's writings, which does not settle the matter, since strict accuracy was not his peculiar gift. Other estimates give only a few hundreds as the number detained, most of them belonging to upper ranks in society. A burning outburst of indignation took place throughout England, and the newspapers vied one with another in wrathful condemnation of the "unmannerly violation of the laws of hospitality." One serious complication of affairs, which perhaps had not been foreseen by the First Consul, when he took this step, was a deadlock in the exchange of prisoners, usual in war between civilised nations. It was impossible for the English Government to recognise that men so unjustly seized were lawful prisoners of war, by consenting to release, in exchange for them, French prisoners lawfully taken. Indeed, from that date exchange practically ceased altogether; English prisoners having to languish in France, and French prisoners having to languish in England, without this hope of gaining their freedom before the close of the war. Some few exceptions were made in later years, but not many.