the addition to
the strength at Black Tor, by waiting his opportunity, and meeting, and
in fair fight slaying, young Mark Eden, who was about his own age,
seventeen, and just back home from one of the great grammar-schools.
This done, he would make a scheme for seizing the Black Tor, putting Sir
Edward Eden and his mercenaries to the sword, but sparing the men who
were miners, so that they might go on working for the Darleys. By this
means he would end the feud, secure peace, and make his father a rich
and happy man, having proved himself a thoroughly good and chivalrous
son.

Ralph felt very brave, and proud, and happy, when he had reached this
point, which was just as he opened the door of his father's room, which
contained a very small library--books being rare and precious in those
days--plenty of handsome armour and war-like weapons of offence, and a
corner set apart for alchemy and the study of minerals; for, in a
desultory way, Sir Morton Darley, bitten by the desire to have a mine of
his own to produce him as good an income as that of his enemy neighbour,
had been given to searching without success for a good lode of lead.

Sir Morton was reading an old tome as his son entered the room, hot,
eager, and excited.

"Well, boy," he said, looking up dreamily; "what is it?"

"They've gone straight to Black Tor, father."

"The Edens? Have they? I did not know they had been away."

"No, no, father; that captain fellow and his men."

"Oh, of course. I had almost forgotten them. Tut, tut, tut! It will
be very awkward for us, Ralph, if Sir Edward listens to that scoundrel's
proposals. But there, it cannot be helped. There never was an Eden yet
who was a gentlemen, and all we have to do is to be well prepared. The
old tower is stronger than ever, and if they come we'll fight them from
the outer gate to the wall, from the wall to the inner wall, and if they
drive us from that, there is the tower, where we can set them at
defiance."

"As old Sir Ralph did, father," cried the boy, flushing with pride.

"Exactly, my boy; and I do not feel much fear of Captain Purlrose and
his men."

"No, father; I suppose he will keep on half-drawing his sword, and
thrusting it back with a clang."

"Exactly, Ralph, boy," cried Sir Morton, laughing. "Just that one act
shows the man's character to a T. Bluster, and then retreat. But
suppose it should come to fighting, my boy. Hadn't you better go back
to school, and sta