"No, Fred," she said, smiling gravely, as she drew him down and kissed
his brow.

"Because I had mine with Scar. Where's father?"

"In the library. He has a gentleman with him."

"Gentleman?"

"Yes; he has come from Bristol to see your father on business."

"Oh!" said Fred, carelessly; and he sat down and rested his head upon
his hand.

"Does your head ache, my boy?" asked his mother.

"Head? No, mother. I was only thinking," said the boy, as his mother's
words brought him back from wandering in the water-floored passage.

"Thinking of your studies?"

Fred started a little, for his studies had been rather neglected of
late.

"No, mother, only of a hunt Scar and I had in the Hall woods to-day."

It was in the boy's heart to tell his mother all that had passed, and
their discovery from beginning to end, but he argued, "If I do, it will
not be a secret any longer."

There was a pause.

"Father said that a well-intentioned boy would have no secrets from his
father and mother, and that they should be always looked upon as his
best friends. But it isn't mine altogether," argued Fred, after another
very long pause; "and I've no business to tell Scar's secret to any one
till he has told it to his own father and mother; and, besides, as it's
a private place, they would not like any one to know about it, and--"

"Yes, Forrester, we may throw away all compunction now," said a loud,
firm voice; and Fred rose from his seat as his father entered in company
with a tall, broad-shouldered man, whose grizzled, slightly curly hair
was cut very close to his head, and whose eyes seemed to pierce the boy,
as he gave him a sternly searching look. He had a stiff, military
bearing, and he did not walk down the long low room, but seemed to march
rather awkwardly, as if he had been riding a great deal.

He nodded familiarly to Mistress Forrester, who looked at him in rather
a troubled way, as he marched straight to Fred, slapped him sharply on
the shoulder, and gripped it so hard as to give him acute pain. But the
boy did not flinch, only set his teeth hard, knit his brow, and gazed
resentfully in the visitor's dark eyes, which seemed full of malice and
enjoyment in the pain he was giving.

"So this is Fred, is it?" he said in a harsh voice, which sounded as if
he was ordering Colonel Forrester to answer.

"Yes, sir," said Mistress Forrester, with dignity, "this is our son;"
and she looked wonderfully like her boy i