eir preachings. I have talked with my cousins at the
Chase, who know what their doctrine is."

But at these words the old man fairly gnashed his teeth in fury; he
made a rush at his son and took him by the collar of his doublet,
shaking him in a frenzy of rage.

"So!" he cried, "so! Now we get at the whole heart of the matter.
You have been learning heresy from those false Trevlyns at the
Chase--those renegade, treacherous, time-serving Trevlyns, who are
a disgrace to their name and their station! Wretched boy! have I
not warned you times and again to have no dealings with those evil
relatives? Kinsmen they may be, but kinsmen who have disgraced the
name they bear. I would I had Richard Trevlyn here beneath my hand
now, that I might stuff his false doctrine down his false throat to
choke him withal! And to think that he has corrupted my son, as if
the rearing of his own heretic brood was not enough!"

Cuthbert was unable to speak; his father's hand pressed too tightly
on his throat. He did not struggle or resist. Those were days when
sons--ay, and daughters too--were used to receiving severe
chastisement from the parental hand without murmur: and Nicholas
Trevlyn had not been one to spare the rod where his son had been
concerned. His wrath seemed to rise as he felt the slight form of
the lad sway beneath his strong grasp. Surely that slim stripling
could be reduced to obedience; but the lesson must be a sharp one,
for plainly the poison was working, and had already produced
disastrous results.

"Miserable boy!" cried Nicholas, his eyes blazing in their
cavernous hollows, "the time has come when this matter must be
settled betwixt us twain. Swear that thou wilt go no more to the
churches of the Protestant faction, be the laws what they may;
swear that thou wilt hold no more converse on matters of religion
with thy cousins at the Chase--swear these things with a solemn and
binding oath, and all may yet be well. Refuse, and thou shalt yet
learn, as thou hast not learned before, what the wrath of a wronged
and outraged father can be!"

Petronella, the dark-eyed girl, who had all this while been
crouching back in her high-backed chair in an attitude of shrinking
terror, now sprang suddenly towards her brother, crying: "O
Cuthbert, Cuthbert! prithee do not anger him more!

"Father, O dear sir, let but him go this once! He does not
willingly anger you; he does but--"

"Peace, foolish girl, and begone! This is no time