ch, for in his own boyish way he had a great
admiration for this man.

"Well, lad, I am glad to see thee looking something more substantial and
like thine own self," said Lord Montacute, seating himself upon the edge
of the bed and taking Wendot's hand in his. "This hand has done good
service to me and mine -- good service, indeed, to the King of England,
who would have been forced to chastise with some severity the outrage
planned upon a subject of his, and one dear to him from association with
his children. Tell me, boy, what can I do for thee when I tell this tale
to my lord of England? What boon hast thou to ask of him or of me? For
thou needest not fear; whatever it be it shall be granted."

"Nay, I have no boon," answered Wendot, his cheek flushing. "I did but
do my duty by any guest beneath my father's roof. I was responsible for
the safety of the maid. I had taken that duty on myself. I want nothing;
she is safe, and that is enough. Only if you would speak to my father
for my brothers Llewelyn and Howel. I know they have merited deep
displeasure; yet they are but lads, and doubtless they were led away by
evil counsels. He would hear pleading better from you than from me."

"It shall be done," said Lord Montacute, still regarding Wendot
steadily; "and now, boy, I would speak to thee seriously and gravely as
man to man, for thou hast proved thyself to be a man in action, in
courage, and in foresight. And thy parents tell me that thou art
acquainted with the burning questions of the day, and that thy brothers'
headstrong hatreds and prejudices do not blind thee."

Wendot made no reply, but fixed his bright eyes steadily on Lord
Montacute's face. He on his side, after a brief silence, began again in
clear, terse phrases:

"Lad, if thou livest thou wilt some day be Lord of Dynevor -- master of
this fair heritage, the fairest, perhaps, in all South Wales. Thou hast
noble blood in thy veins -- the blood of princes and kings; thou hast
much that men covet to call their own; but thou art surrounded by foes
who are jealous of thee, and by kinsmen who have already cast covetous
eyes on thy possessions."

"Ay, that traitorous Meredith ap Res, whose mother is English, and who
would -- But pardon me. I would not willingly speak against your nation.
Indeed, I feel not bitter as others do; only --"

"Boy, thou art right to be loyal and true. I like thee none the less for
the patriotic fervour which breaks out in thee. Bu