atience was exhausted; he would listen no more. With a
fierce gesture of hatred that made the child shrink back again he turned
upon her, and it seemed for a moment almost as though he would have
struck her, despite Wendot's sturdy protecting arm, had not his own
shoulder been suddenly grasped by an iron hand, and he himself
confronted by the stern countenance of his father.

"What means this, boy?" asked Res Vychan severely. "Art thou daring to
raise thine arm against a child, a lady, and thy father's guest? For
shame! I blush for thee. Ask pardon instantly of the lady and of her
father. I will have no such dealings in mine house. Thou shouldst be
well assured of that."

The black-browed boy was crimson with rage and shame, but there was no
yielding in the haughty face. He confronted his father with flashing
eyes, and as he did so he met the keen, grave glance of the stranger's
fixed upon him with a calm scrutiny which aroused his fiercest rage.

"I will not ask pardon," he shouted. "I will not degrade my tongue by
uttering such words. I will not --"

The father's hand descended heavily upon his son's head, in a blow which
would have stunned a lad less hardy and hard-headed. Res Vychan was not
one to be defied with impunity by his own sons, and he had had hard
encounters of will before now with Llewelyn.

"Choose, boy," he said with brief sternness. "Either do my will and obey
me, or thou wilt remain a close prisoner till thou hast come to thy
senses. My guests shall not be insulted by thy forward tongue. Barbarous
and wild as the English love to call us, they shall find that Res Vychan
is not ignorant of those laws which govern the world in which they live
and move. Ask pardon of the lady, or to the dungeon thou goest."

Llewelyn glanced up into his father's face, and saw no yielding there.
Howel was making vehement signs to him which he and he alone could
interpret. His other brothers were eagerly gazing at him, and Griffeth
even went so for as to murmur into his ear some words of entreaty.

It seemed as though the silence which followed Res Vychan's words would
never be broken, but at last the culprit spoke, and spoke in a low,
sullen tone.

"I meant no harm. I would not have hurt her."

"Ask her pardon then, boy, and tell her so."

"Nay, force him no more," said the little lady, who was regarding this
curious scene with lively interest, and who began to feel sorry for the
dark wild boy who had frightened