spoke before," said Ralph. "Captain
Pearl Ross?"

"Nay, nay, boy; Purlrose. He'll know directly you speak. Tell him, I'm
waiting to grasp him by the hand."

Ralph nodded, and sprang up the stone flight, while the visitor's
companions threw themselves down upon the steps to rest, their leader
remaining standing, and placing himself by the mounting stone on one
side, hand upon sword-hilt, and arranging his ragged cloak in folds with
as much care as if it had been of newest velvet.

CHAPTER TWO.

SIR MORTON RECEIVES HIS GUEST.

"Father can't be pleased," thought the lad, as he hurried in through a
heavy oaken door, strengthened by the twisted and scrolled iron bands of
the huge hinges, and studded with great-headed nails. This yielded
heavily, as, seizing a ring which moved a lever, he raised the heavy
latch, and for a moment, as he passed through, he hesitated about
closing the door again upon the group below. But as he glanced at the
party, he hesitated no longer. Their appearance begat no confidence,
and the great latch clicked directly.

The next minute, he was hurrying along a dark stone passage, to spring
up a few more stairs, leading into a corridor with a polished oaken
floor, and mullioned windows looking down upon the courtyard; and as he
reached the second, a bright, handsome girl, whose features proclaimed
sisterhood, started out to meet him.

"Oh Ralph," she said, "who are those dreadful-looking men you have
brought up?"

"Don't stop me, Min," he said hastily. "Old soldiers who want to see
father. Where is he?"

"In his room."

The lad hurried on, and entered through a door way on his left, to
where, in an oaken-panelled room, a stern, slightly grey,
military-looking man sat poring over an old book, but looked up directly
the lad entered.

"Ah, Ralph, boy," he said; "been out?"

"Only on the cliff, father," cried the lad hastily. "Visitors."

"Visitors? Nonsense! I expect no visitors. Who are they?"

"Captain Purlrose and his men."

"Purlrose!" cried Sir Morton, with a look of angry disgust. "Here?"

"Yes, father," said Ralph, watching keenly the impression made by his
words. "Waiting at the foot of the steps."

"Bah! I thought the drunken, bullying scoundrel was dead and gone years
ago. Hung or shot, for he deserved either."

"Hah!" ejaculated the lad, with a sigh of relief. "Then you are not
glad to see him, father?"

"Glad to see him? Are you mad, boy?"

"N