Some touch of shame came to the young man's cold heart, and he spoke to
his father as the officers were about to lead him away.

"I have been wrong, I have misunderstood you, sir," he said, and he
seemed about to hold out his hand. But it was too late. The old man
turned on him, shaking his shaggy head.

"Never, sir, while I live. The wrong to me is little. I can take my
broken life into a foreign land and die dishonoured and forgotten. But my
other child, my one dear child who has suffered year after year with
me--for the wrong you have done her, I never, never, never will forgive
you. Not for love of you have I spoken as I did to-day, but for the
honour of the Enderbys and because you were the child of your mother."

Two days later at Southampton the old man boarded a little packet-boat
bound for Havre.




III

The years went by again. At last all was changed in England. The monarchy
was restored, and the land was smiling and content. One day there was a
private reading in the Queen's chamber of the palace. The voice of the
reader moved in pleasant yet vibrant modulations:

"The King was now come to a time when his enemies wickedly began to
plot against him secretly and to oppose him in his purposes; which,
in his own mind, were beneficent and magnanimous. From the shire