ety. The poor
animal was pouring with sweat, shivering and trembling, yet throwing
his head back every moment. Donal could scarcely undo the chain; it
was twisted--his lordship had fastened it himself--and sharp edges
pressed his jaw at the least touch of the rein. He had not yet
rehooked it, when Forgue was upon him with a second blow of his whip.
The horse was scared afresh at the sound, and it was all he could do to
hold him, but he succeeded at length in calming him. When he looked
about him, Forgue was gone. He led the horse into the stable, put him
in his stall, and proceeded to unsaddle him. Then first he was
re-aware of the presence of Davie. The boy was stamping--with fierce
eyes and white face--choking with silent rage.

"Davie, my child!" said Donal, and Davie recovered his power of speech.

"I'll go and tell my father!" he said, and made for the stable door.

"Which of us are you going to tell upon?" asked Donal with a smile.

"Percy, of course!" he replied, almost with a scream. "You are a good
man, Mr. Grant, and he is a bad fellow. My father will give it him
well. He doesn't often--but oh, can't he just! To dare to strike you!
I'll go to him at once, whether he's in bed or not!"

"No, you won't, my boy! Listen to me. Some people think it's a
disgrace to be struck: I think it a disgrace to strike. I have a right
over your brother by that blow, and I mean to keep it--for his good.
You didn't think I was afraid of him?"

"No, no; anybody could see you weren't a bit afraid of him. I would
have struck him again if he had killed me for it!"

"I don't doubt you would. But when you understand, you will not be so
ready to strike. I could have killed your brother more easily than
held his horse. You don't know how strong I am, or what a blow of my
fist would be to a delicate fellow like that. I hope his fall has not
hurt him."

"I hope it has--a little, I mean, only a little," said the boy, looking
in the face of his tutor. "But tell me why you did not strike him. It
would be good for him to be well beaten."

"It will, I hope, be better for him to be well forgiven: he will be
ashamed of himself the sooner, I think. But why I did not strike him
was, that I am not my own master."

"But my father, I am sure, would not have been angry with you. He
would have said you had a right to do it."

"Perhaps; but the earl is not the master I mean."

"Who is, then?"

"Jesus Christ."

"O--oh!