A Blot on the Scutcheon

ked home alone, but he

lready enshrined a small oval face with hazel stars for eyes, and

he pretty foolishness of a youthful lover's

ul deerhound, met h

derstand it," the great animal tried dumbly to explai

nervously forward, when a voice, rich, sweet, and powerful, though

Muse, her w

flights

e bowl would

lows roun

think's a

and fil

hael," faltered Bates

ton put him aside w

o greet his father for th

chair. Before him on a table was placed a larg

ery much

s appearance was that of a very handsome but somewhat dissipated man of fifty, dressed in the height of fashion, his powde

of you doesn't make me feel an old man. Come, you'll shake hands

as he spoke, but Michael igno

ures of his father's return

e at his son's refusal of greeting, but sank bac

s since I tasted it. Thirty years! Well! you'll have heard the story, Mike, and I suppose ha

d wearily over hi

er's return eventually, the shock of this unlook

grandfather on their dea

ther s

and, lad; yet there's more excuse than you know

ms of a little bunch of prim

dead also," he r

ington looke

y has been drummed well into you. A moment's weakne

his frien

up in a row. I could not have saved Pryor and Farquhar. No, nor Conyers either, for t

leman ask th

trifle out of date, though, my son, as you will find. Why, eve

or

n. A buck worth having for a son, t

onyers yo

race you and see again these ancestral halls, I should now be toasting the prettiest eyes in the kingdom, and drinking to the august health of our

s lighter tone of badinage

en; can't my own son join them there? It's true my crop of wild oats was plentiful enough. As for that Jacobite affair, I-well-I've often w

had bee

ask what else I've been doing through these years,

rget my

lst his blue eyes wavered and fell bef

culpa' there. My poor little Nora

oke her

is empty. Ha, ha! I'm for Langton Hall and a night of it with my merry friends. Tra lal-de-lal! You may come, too; an' you list, son Michael. You'll remember your filial duties an' fall on my neck in welcome after a stoop or so of punch an

y, and laying a hand on his

sent a thrill-half sh

r. Yes! H

g words came back to

of Berrington in your hands. Swe

it under foot; and swiftly it came to him that he could not keep that oath and stand against th

helpless touch on his arm, and seeing that half-plead

eplied. "I

the decision with

aning against his son's broad shoulder and speaking in a whisper. "That's why I didn't come before. Not that I care for Sir Henry; he may frown an' curse at me till he rots, I'll but drink the deeper. But the little mother is

think's a

and fil

ing laugh over the refrain. Ghosts th

there, if Phil Berkeley's to be believed. He vows Morry's sister's a jewel fit for a king's cr

h his own eyes were grim for tho