Till then ye have two courses: either swallow me
down these insults, keep a silent tongue, and fight in the meanwhile for
the man that fed and fought for your infancy; or else--the door standeth
open, the woods are full of mine enemies--go."

The spirit with which these words were uttered, the looks with which
they were accompanied, staggered Dick; and yet he could not but observe
that he had got no answer.

"I desire nothing more earnestly, Sir Daniel, than to believe you," he
replied. "Assure me ye are free from this."

"Will ye take my word of honour, Dick?" inquired the knight.

"That would I," answered the lad.

"I give it you," returned Sir Daniel. "Upon my word of honour, upon the
eternal welfare of my spirit, and as I shall answer for my deeds
hereafter, I had no hand nor portion in your father's death."

He extended his hand, and Dick took it eagerly. Neither of them observed
the priest, who, at the pronunciation of that solemn and false oath, had
half arisen from his seat in an agony of horror and remorse.

"Ah," cried Dick, "ye must find it in your great-heartedness to pardon
me! I was a churl, indeed, to doubt of you. But ye have my hand upon it;
I will doubt no more."

"Nay, Dick," replied Sir Daniel, "y'are forgiven. Ye know not the world
and its calumnious nature."

"I was the more to blame," added Dick, "in that the rogues pointed, not
directly at yourself, but at Sir Oliver."

As he spoke, he turned towards the priest, and paused in the middle of
the last word. This tall, ruddy, corpulent, high-stepping man had
fallen, you might say, to pieces; his colour was gone, his limbs were
relaxed, his lips stammered prayers; and now, when Dick's eyes were
fixed upon him suddenly, he cried out aloud, like some wild animal, and
buried his face in his hands.

Sir Daniel was by him in two strides, and shook him fiercely by the
shoulder. At the same moment Dick's suspicions reawakened.

"Nay," he said, "Sir Oliver may swear also. 'Twas him they accused."

"He shall swear," said the knight.

Sir Oliver speechlessly waved his arms.

"Ay, by the mass! but ye shall swear," cried Sir Daniel, beside himself
with fury. "Here, upon this book, ye shall swear," he continued,
picking up the breviary, which had fallen to the ground. "What! Ye make
me doubt you! Swear, I say; swear!"

But the priest was still incapable of speech. His terror of Sir Daniel,
his terror of perjury, risen to about an equal height, s