d is nearer
to nature than the man, and the animal oft scents a danger the master
cannot see. I read plainly in Mr. Allen's handsome face, flushed red
with wine as it ever was, and in my Uncle Grafton's looks a snare to
which I knew my grandfather was blind. I never rightly understood how
it was that Mr. Carvel was deceived in Mr. Allen; perchance the secret
lay in his bold manner and in the appearance of dignity and piety he wore
as a cloak when on his guard. I caught my breath sharply and took my way
toward them, resolved to make as brave a front as I might. It was my
uncle, whose ear was ever open, that first heard my footstep and turned
upon me.

"Here is Richard, now, father," he said.

I gave him so square a look that he bent his head to the ground. My
grandfather stopped in his pacing and his eye rested upon me, in sorrow
rather than in anger, I thought.

"Richard," he began, and paused. For the first time in my life I saw him
irresolute. He looked appealingly at the rector, who rose. Mr. Allen
was a man of good height and broad shoulders, with piercing black eyes,
reminding one more of the smallsword than aught else I can think of. And
he spoke solemnly, in a deep voice, as though from the pulpit.

"I fear it is my duty, Richard, to say what Mr. Carvel cannot. It
grieves me to tell you, sir, that young as you are you have been guilty
of treason against the King, and of grave offence against his Lordship's
government. I cannot mitigate my words, sir. By your rashness, Richard,
and I pray it is such, you have brought grief to your grandfather in his
age, and ridicule and reproach upon a family whose loyalty has hitherto
been unstained."

I scarce waited for him to finish. His pompous words stung me like the
lash of a whip, and I gave no heed to his cloth as I answered:

"If I have grieved my grandfather, sir, I am heartily sorry, and will
answer to him for what I have done. And I would have you know, Mr.
Allen, that I am as able as any to care for the Carvel honour."

I spoke with a vehemence, for the thought carried me beyond myself,
that this upstart parson his Lordship had but a year since sent among
us should question our family reputation.

"Remember that Mr. Allen is of the Church, Richard," said my grandfather,
severely.

"I fear he has little respect for Church or State, sir," Grafton put in.
"You are now reaping the fruits of your indulgence."

I turned to my grandfather.

"You are my protec