a gesture of horrified repudiation.
"Richard!" he cried in deep reproof and again, "Richard!"

"What other tongue has he to fear?" asked Ruth. "Am I the only one who
knows of it?" cried Blake. "Oh, madam, why will you ever do me such
injustice? Richard has been my friend--my dearest friend. I wish him so
to continue, and I swear that he shall find me his, as you shall find me
yours.

"It is a boon I could dispense with," she assured him, and rose. "This
talk can profit little, Sir Rowland," said she. "You seek to bargain."

"You shall see how unjust you are," he cried with deep sorrow. "It is
but fitting, perhaps, after what has passed. It is my punishment. But
you shall come to acknowledge that you have done me wrong. You shall see
how I shall befriend and protect him."

That said, he took his leave and went, but he left behind him a shrewd
seed of fear in Richard's mind, and of the growth that sprang from it
Richard almost unconsciously transplanted something in the days that
followed into the heart of Ruth. As a result, to make sure that no harm
should come to her brother, the last of his name and race, she resolved
to receive Sir Rowland, resolved in spite of Diana's outspoken scorn, in
spite of Richard's protests--for though afraid, yet he would not have it
so--in spite even of her own deep repugnance of the man.

Days passed and grew to weeks. Bridgwater was settling down to peace
again--to peace and mourning; the Royalist scourge had spread to
Taunton, and Blake lingered on at Lupton House, an unwelcome but an
undeniable guest.

His presence was as detestable to Richard now as it was to Ruth, for
Richard had to submit to the mockery with which the town rake lashed his
godly bearing and altered ways. More than once in gusts of sudden valour
the boy urged his sister to permit him to drive the baronet from the
house and let him do his worst. But Ruth, afraid for Richard, bade him
wait until the times were more settled. When the royal vengeance had
slaked its lust for blood it might matter little, perhaps, what tales
Sir Rowland might elect to carry.

And so Sir Rowland remained and waited. He assured himself that he knew
how to be patient, and congratulated himself upon that circumstance.
Wilding dead, a little time must now suffice to blunt the sharp edge of
his widow's grief; let him but await that time, and the rest should be
easy, the battle his. With Richard he did not so much as trouble himself
to reck