Toward midnight the Earl's old comrade Essex had time to understand his
condition, and sent some officers to enquire for him, and promise speedy
surgical attendance. Lindsay was still full of spirit, and spoke to them
so strongly of their broken faith, and of the sin of disloyalty and
rebellion, that they slunk away one by one out of the hut, and dissuaded
Essex from coming himself to see his old friend, as he had intended. The
surgeon, however, arrived, but too late, Lindsay was already so much
exhausted by cold and loss of blood, that he died early in the morning
of the 24th, all his son's gallant devotion having failed to save him.
The sorrowing son received an affectionate note the next day from the
King, full of regret for his father and esteem for himself. Charles made
every effort to obtain his exchange, but could not succeed for a whole
year. He was afterwards one of the four noblemen who, seven years later,
followed the King's white, silent, snowy funeral in the dismantled St.
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