ade to overthrow the monarchy. Master Pawson's
informants assure him that this is the case, and before long, he says,
there must be an encounter between the Royal and the Parliamentary
troops."

"Is Master Pawson right, mother? Royal troops--Parliamentary troops?
Why, they're all the same."

"No, Roy; there is a division--a great division, I fear, and
discontented people are taking the side against the king."

"Then I'm sorry for them," said the boy, flushing. "They'll get a most
terrible beating, these discontented folks."

"Let us hope so, my boy, so that there may be an end to this terrible
anxiety. To those who have friends whom they love in the army, a
foreign war is dreadful enough; but when I think of the possibility of a
war here at home, with Englishmen striving against Englishmen, I
shudder, and my heart seems to sink."

"Look here," cried the boy, as he rose and stood with his hand resting
upon his mother's shoulder, "you've been fidgeting and fancying all
sorts of things, because you haven't heard from father."

"Yes, yes," said Lady Royland, faintly.

"Then you mustn't, mother. 'Tis as I say; he is too busy to write, or
else he hasn't found it easy to send you a letter. I'll take the pony
and ride over to Sidecombe and see when the Exeter wagon comes in.
There are sure to be letters for you, and even if there are not, it will
make you more easy for me to have been to see, and I can bring you back
what news there is. I'll go at once."

Lady Royland took hold of her son's hand and held it fast.

"No," she said, making an effort to be firm. "We will wait another day.
I have been fidgeting, dear, as you say, and it has made me nervous and
low-spirited; but I'm better now for talking to you, my boy, and letting
you share my trouble. I dare say I have been exaggerating."

"But I should like to ride over, mother."

"You shall go to-morrow, Roy; but even then I shall be loath to let you.
There, you see I am quite cheerful again. You are perfectly right;
your father is perhaps away with his men, and he may have sent, and the
letter has miscarried in these troublous times."

"I shouldn't like to be the man who took it, if it has miscarried," said
the boy, laughing.

"Poor fellow! it may have been an accident. There, go to Master Pawson
now; and Roy, my dear, don't talk about our trouble to any one for the
present."

"Not to old Pawson?"

"Master Pawson."

"Not to Master Pawson?" said R