ke, and could have
given my hearers many able Whig arguments to surprise them had the season
befitted. There was silence for a space after I had finished, and then
Mr. Carvel sank right heavily upon the bench.

"A Carvel against the King!" was all he said.

Had I been alone with him I should have cast myself at his feet, for it
hurt me sorely to see him so. As it was, I held my head high.

"The Carvels ever did what they believed right, sir," I answered. "You
would not have me to go against my conscience?"

To this he replied nothing.

"The evil has been done, as I feared, father," said Grafton, presently;
"we must now seek for the remedy."

"Let me question the lad," Mr. Allen softly interposed. "Tell me,
Richard, who has influenced you to this way of thinking?"

I saw his ruse, and was not to be duped by it.

"Men who have not feared to act bravely against oppression, sir," I said.

"Thank God," exclaimed my uncle, with fervour, "that I have been more
careful of Philip's associations, and that he has not caught in the
streets and taverns this noxious creed!"

"There is no danger from Philip; he remembers his family name," said the
rector.

"No," quoth Mr. Carvel, bitterly, "there is no danger from Philip. Like
his father, he will ever believe that which best serves him."

Grafton, needless to say, did not pursue such an argument, but rising,
remarked that this deplorable affair had kept him long past his dinner
hour, and that his services were as ever at his father's disposal. He
refused to stay, though my grandfather pressed him of course, and with a
low bow of filial respect and duty and a single glance at the rector, my
uncle was gone. And then we walked slowly to the house and into the
dining room, Mr. Carvel leading the procession, and I an unwilling rear,
knowing that my fate would be decided between them. I thought Mr.
Allen's grace would never end, and the meal likewise; I ate but little,
while the two gentlemen discussed parish matters. And when at last
Scipio had retired, and the rector of St. Anne's sat sipping the old
Madeira, his countenance all gravity, but with a relish he could not
hide, my grandfather spoke up. And though he addressed himself to the
guest, I knew full well what he said was meant for me.

"As you see, sir," said he, "I am sore perplexed and troubled. We
Carvels, Mr. Allen, have ever been stanch to Church and King. My
great-grandsire fought at Naseby and Marston Moor for