tterness of his failure with Ralph. The priest seemed to know what
was passing in his mind.

"Oh! you will fail sometimes," he said, "but not finally. You are a
monk, my son, and a man."

* * * * *

Lady Torridon retired into her impregnable silence again after her
sallies of speech on the previous evening; but as the few days went on
that Chris had been allowed to spend with his parents he was none the
less aware that her attitude towards him was one of contempt. She
showed it in a hundred ways--by not appearing to see him, by refusing to
modify her habits in the smallest particular for his convenience, by a
rigid silence on the subject that was in the hearts of both him and his
father. She performed her duties as punctually and efficiently as ever,
dealt dispassionately and justly with an old servant who had been
troublesome, and with regard to whom her husband was both afraid and
tender; but never asked for confidences or manifested the minutest
detail of her own accord.

* * * * *

On the fourth day after Chris's arrival news came that Sir Thomas More
had been condemned, but it roused no more excitement than the fall of a
threatening rod. It had been known to be inevitable. And then on Chris's
last evening at home came the last details.

* * * * *

Sir James and Chris had been out for a long ride up the estate, talking
but little, for each knew what was in the heart of the other; and they
were just dismounting at the terrace-steps when there was a sound of
furious galloping; and a couple of riders burst through the gateway a
hundred yards away.

Chris felt his heart leap and hammer in his throat, but stood passively
awaiting what he knew was coming; and a few seconds later, Nicholas
Maxwell checked his horse passionately at the steps.

"God damn them!" he cried, with a crimson quivering face.

Sir James stepped up at once and took him by the arm.

"Nick," he said, and glanced at the staring grooms.

Nicholas showed his teeth like a dog.

"God damn them!" he said again.

The other rider had come up by now; he was dusty and seemed spent. He
was a stranger to the father and son who waited on the steps; but he
looked like a groom, and slipped off his horse deftly and took Sir
Nicholas's bridle.

"Come in Nick," said Sir James. "We can talk in the house."

As the three went up together, with the strange rider