name of Scudamore, a page of the earl of Worcester, whom he had met
at lady Vaughan's: and recounted the result.

'Was your quarrel a just one, my son?'

'No sir. I was in the wrong.'

'Then you are so far in the right now. And you are going to help him
home?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Have you confessed yourself in the wrong?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Then go, my son, but beware of private quarrel in such a season of
strife. This youth and thyself may meet some day in mortal conflict
on the battle-field; and for my part--I know not how it may be with
another--in such a case I would rather slay my friend than my
enemy.'

Enlightened by the inward experience of the moment, Richard was able
to understand and respond to the feeling. How different a sudden
action flashed off the surface of a man's nature may be from that
which, had time been given, would have unfolded itself from its
depths!

Bare-headed, Roger Heywood walked beside his son as he led the mare
to the spot where Scudamore perforce awaited his return. They found