A Blot on the Scutcheon

ught Moric

el no

er his answers the better p

ting idly on his knee,

a summer shower. The scent of wet, brown earth was alluring to Michael, ye

Sir Henry's mout

o w

si

A

enigmati

ge and met the stare of

his little si

as that

laymate of

ate of

s,

o your father's son?

e had played with little Gabrielle Conyers-and fought for her

shed, the old man op

ht of such play," said he sourly, "or I m

's eyes

skily, and never waited even fo

at I should know well enough one day. Neither would she tell me whether he were alive or dead. But I am a child no longer, and will be a

the wains

d-song with

aid Sir Henry dully. "

ratic old face was

should not have hidden his faults from me. It is so with women: they weaken with their pampering where discipline should strengthen. I knew nothing of his gam

bubble Jacobite plots which were for ever being blown by the friends of poor Prince Charlie. He and his bosom companion, Ralph Conyers, were b

warned them again before they set out on that fatal day

ng of such a plot, though there were brave gentlemen concerned in it. Too much heart and too little brain is a ba

face was ashen, his old

t eagerly forward, but ther

tered. "He wa

for my son, yet I honoured him, thinking

esca

twisted into that bitter

Berrington escaped scot fre

tick

the great clock in the corner

and rigid as the st

tra

dead was alive-free; but the price was disho

oncentrated and undying fur

, covering his fa

," he moaned-"a trait

ho

uld have killed him for c

helped to send to the scaffold. Ralph Conyers was imprisoned for ten years and came back a cripple, whose l

r! And su

you, lad,-a stained and blotted scutcheon, with cow

is still

m the doors. His mother saw him by stealth once, and he told her a tale. I did not listen to it. She died soon after; I think of a broken heart. It did n

wly, "whenever I asked concerning

why

im very warmly, and afterwards she cried. The messenger went away laughing, and that maddened me. I ran after

big nose of yours and the set of your shoulders. Ha, ha! So you would

t away. And my mother wept again very sor

nought

at the last, she put her

'or, if you do, pray God you may save him from

breast. The reopening of an unh

closed h

gain. "Come," he said, rising, clutching at his ebony stick with the sudden weakness of age

t the ghosts laughed and sang with merry, boyish voices, shouting in glee as they romped with Chieftain and Bride, the great deer

pt on the neck of these ghosts, holding out wide, e

he passed between rows of smiling or frowning ancestors, followed by a lean, dark-browed boy, whos

they left so fair was stained and bl

zonment of arms and rich colouring, at the end of the gallery. It shone stra

Sir Henry's hand trembled as

an, dressed in the extravagant fashion of a period

enty-two, was a son any mot

th to be led rather than born to rule. And Satan had led him to his own destruction. So Sir Henry said, even whilst Step

s father's face and found

r-and hi

t a man can be a traitor's son, and yet no traitor himself. The

own deeds, wipe out the stain which se

nto its place. Sir Henr

he dying sunlight, whilst grey eyes alon

ered hand fell on

tand?" he s

l unde