and waited for an answer.

Calming his emotion with a violent effort, he turned to Maud and said,
"By my faith, you should be thankful this day that you are not a Drury,
to be disgraced by this traitor caitiff, who was my son. This must be
the last time he is ever spoken of in this house, for I have renounced
him--cast him off for ever; and you children must do the same," he said,
turning towards Bertram and Bessie.

The little girl had dried her tears, and both sat with white frightened
faces gazing at Maud and their father.

Maud staggered back to her seat and bowed her face in her hands, and the
dinner went on in silence among those who cared to eat. Maud and Mary
sat with their plates before them, but left the table without tasting
anything, and as soon as they could escape went up to their own room.

Here Maud's firmness quite forsook her, and laying her head on Mary's
shoulder, she burst into tears, moaning, "Oh, Mary, what shall I do? I
cast him off as well."

Mary could not understand her. "I think you ought to be very glad you
are not a Drury, to share in his disgrace," she said, with a sigh.

Maud lifted her face, her eyes flashing with indignation. "Glad!" she
said; "nay, nay, I wish I were a Drury, that I might go and seek him
now. Think of it, Mary; all have cast him off."

"He has disgraced us all," said Mary. "I have heard my father say it was
his proudest boast that the Drurys had ever been true to the king and
state, and never taken part with any riotous mob, and now Harry has
dragged our family honour to the very dust. Everybody will know it soon,
and every village wench will pity me because I am the sister of a
traitor. I shall never hold up my head again," and Mary burst into tears
at the picture of humiliation she had drawn.

[Illustration: "HE HAS DISGRACED US ALL!"]

Maud was quite incapable of understanding this self-pity, and seating
herself at the little table by the window, she indulged her own
self-reproachful thoughts on her conduct of the morning. She had no idea
then that his father had treated him so harshly, or she would have been
more tender, and her heart was sad as she thought of his words, that he
must be true to his conscience.

But her musing was broken in upon by Mary saying, "It is so wicked, so
wilful, to rebel against the King."

"But suppose he had to do this, or rebel against his conscience," said
Maud, giving some expression to her own thoughts.

Mary started.