"Sure, from the devil," says Mr Healy. "Sirrah-sirrah-" Sir Matthew cried. Mr Healy approached him.

"Do you desire satisfaction of me?" he asked, and his breath beat upon Sir Matthew's cheek. "Begad, I am desirous myself." He flashed out his sword. Sir Matthew started back. Mr Healy laughed.

"Sirrah, I am an old man, else"

But, begad, here is a young one!" Mr Healy swung round upon his son. "Will you fight, sir, will you fight for the father that's Judas to his brother?

"Sir, will you give him the lie?" Jack Dane cried to his father. "Did you betray my

uncle?"

"I did my duty to my King," said Sir Matthew, not without a snuffle. "I would to God, my dear boy, this grievous burden had fallen on another." His son flung away with a laugh of contempt-then came upon Mr. Healy's steady eyes and stood a while staring.

"I cannot meet you in this cause, sir," he said in a low voice. Mr Healy slapped his sword home and turned on Sir Matthew:

"Mr Judas," says he, "I envy you your proud joys at this present." Sir Matthew was gasping in short breath.

"Have you shamed me enough, sir?" Jack Dane muttered flushing. Mr Healy made him a bow.

"Sir, 'tis not you that are shamed," said he. "Sure, you are true kin to the man that died." "I do not forget it, sir," said the lad proudly.

"He would ask you no more. He nor his friends."

"You were of them ?"

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"I am friend to all of his, sir. James Healy, your obedient." They bowed to each other.

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May I beg will you wait me at the Red Barn Inn, Mr Healy?"

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""Tis a pleasure," said Mr Healy, and with that departed.

Behind the hedge Beaujeu held out his hand and the two men gripped. Then, as they rode away: "You were right, Healy," says M. de Beaujeu. "You were right."

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Begad," the merciful Mr Healy gave a merciless chuckle, "there's worse things than a hanging." And he jerked a nod to the orchard where the son was left to deal faithfully with his ingenious sire. "But will you tell me now where we will find the boy's Red Barn Inn?"

M. de Beaujeu flushed very dark. He appeared to attempt speech and fail. He pointed with his whip.

Mr Healy, observant, seemed to himself a man in a fairy tale, and came to the inn with anxiety as to whom his friend would be hanging

now.

CHAPTER IX

IN ONE ORCHARD AND SEVERAL LANES

IN the orchard father and son looked askance at each other.

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"My dear lad," said Sir Matthew, "my dear lad- and stopped abashed by the dear lad's angry eyes. Jack Dane laughed:

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Is there more to say than a good-bye, sir?" Sir Matthew licked his lips. Dear lad, you apprehend the matter amiss--- nay, consider. My brother harboured rebels, rebels, Jack-——” "Poor hunted devils, and so would any man!" "Jack!" cried his father aghast. "Dear lad, they were rebels against the King. It was my duty to seize them. To let them escape were treason. And I am in the Commission. Ah, lad, it was grievous to uncover his fault. Pray you may never know such pain. "Oh, must you cover it with cant? Is it not enough to find you here in his own garden on the morning of his hanging?"

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Nay, dear lad.

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What, sir?"

You mistake.

judge. He has not been hanged."

I"

You mis

I

"I procured that he should be beheaded. have been very urgent with my Lord Sunderland. My lord has been much my friend, and saved us the shame of a hanging."

Jack Dane broke out in a bitter laugh. "I misjudged indeed! I never thought to hear

E

a man boast that he only beheaded his brother. Nay, say no more. You'll not better that. God be with you, sir! I pray to God I may never see your face again. "Tis enough to know I am your son. He cocked his hat and strode away.

"I have but a few years to live," said Sir Matthew, sighing plaintively. But his son was gone, and the sad reflection saddened none but Sir Matthew himself. He was left in his Aceldama exceeding sorrowful.

Sir Matthew quoted to himself concerning Jeshurun, who waxed fat and kicked. Sure, 'twas the boy's comfortable estate had bred this wanton insolence. Nay, he had not dared defy his father but that he knew himself provided. The impious boy must mean to claim his mother's Kentish manors. Oh, sharper than a serpent's tooth! Sir Matthew sought to persuade himself that he might hold those manors still, but repeating the clauses of the settlement (he knew them by heart) found no hope. Sir Matthew enquired of Heaven why he was cursed with an impious son-and then cast a balance. Gain-Bourne Manor and the table money of a wicked boy. Loss-Dunton and Westerham. A poor hundred pounds by the year was all he had gained by the grievous mournful duty of killing his brother. Such in this world (Sir Matthew reflected) is the reward of stainless virtue. He had been much advantaged in his morality by friendship with my Lord Sunderland.

His unnatural son was riding away through

the park, and twice in a theatrical manner he laughed loud. He appeared to himself a character from a tragedy, and pulled his hat over his brows, in which picturesque array he was startled by a gay:

"Holà, cousin! and saw galloping down upon him a roan mare and a girl in grey. Behind her a cloud of brown hair hung upon the wind. Jack Dane halted. "Why, cousin! cried the girl. "Oh cousin, you picture of woe! Come for a gallop with me."

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"Nay, Nell, I have no leisure now," said Jack, with solemnity. The girl reined up by his side and looked at his gloomy face and laughed.

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"No leisure!"" she mimicked solemnly. Oh, alack! And is it in Heaven you are needed, Mr Dane? To sober their joys,

sir?"

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"I have no heart to jest, Nell. Good-bye." He held out his hand.

"Faith, I crave your divinity's pardon!" the girl cried, and bowed and drew away. But he held out his hand still, and while she looked defiance at his eyes she saw they were gloomy. So she came again and gave him her hand. Jack Dane held it a moment.

"Some folks," said the girl modestly, "would kiss it." Jack Dane obeyed.

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Good-bye, little girl," said he.

"Till?"

"God knows!" said the tragic hero, and rode off.

"Oh brave!" the girl laughed, and sat