"Be assured, madam," he said respectfully, "that Mr Lane shall fare better for the beseechment of so good a daughter, and that I will do mine utmost to have him gently handled." "I thank you, sir," replied Mrs Jane, as she closed the window. Then, Jenny still following, a little less frightened, since the enemy seemed after all to be a man, and not a very bad man either. Mrs Jane went upstairs and tapped at her brother's door. "Who's there?" demanded the Colonel's voice very sleepily. "The reward of your deeds," answered his sister, drily. "Make haste and busk thee, Jack; thou art wanted to go to prison." "Very good!" responded the Colonel, to Jenny's astonishment. "Do you bear me company?" "Nay; would I did, rather than our father." "Our father! Is _he_--?" "Ay. God have mercy on us!" said Mrs Jane gravely. "Amen!" came through the closed door. "Jenny, go back to my chamber," said her mistress. "I will come to thee anon. The hardest of my work lieth afore me yet." For two hours all was haste and tumult in Bentley Hall. Then, when the soldiers had departed, carrying their prisoners with them, a hush almost like that of death fell upon the house. Mrs Lane had wept till she had no more tears to shed; her daughter did not weep, but she looked very white and sad. "Now you mark my words!" said Millicent to Jenny; "'tis that Jackson has done it. He's played the traitor. Didn't I always say he was a Roundhead! Depend upon it, he's betrayed something the Colonel's done in His Majesty's service, and that's why that wicked Parliament's down on him. Robin, he says the same. He never did like that scheming black creature, and no more did I." "Well, I don't know! He seemed a decent sort o' man, far as I could see, only that he wasn't well-favoured," said Jenny doubtfully. "He was a snake in the grass!" said Millicent solemnly; "and you'll find that out, Jenny Lavender." To the surprise of the whole family, and themselves most of all, the prisoners were released after only four months' detention. That was considered an exceedingly short business in 1652. Neither father nor son seemed any worse for their trial; the Roundheads, they said, had not treated them ill, and had even allowed sundry extra comforts to old Mr Lane. So matters dropped back into their old train at Bentley Hall for about a month longer. Then, one August morning, Colonel Lane, who had ridden to Kidderminster, entered the parlour with an open letter in his hand. His face was grave almost to sternness, and when his sister saw it, an expression of alarm came into her eyes. "A letter, Jane, from Penelope Wyndham," he said, giving her the letter. "Mrs Millicent and Mrs Jenny, I pray you give us leave." That was a civil way of saying, "Please to leave the room," and of course it was at once obeyed. Evidently something of consequence was to be discussed. "I do hope Mrs Jane will not go away again," said Millicent.