lly" made the boy wince, and a curious, stubborn
look began to cloud his face.

"Her Royal Highness tells me that you actually so far forgot yourself as
to draw upon young Forbes, that you were half mad with passion, and that
some terrible mischief would have happened if the Prince, who heard the
clashing from his room of audience, had not rushed in, and at great risk
to himself beaten down the swords. That is what I have been told, and
that you are both placed under arrest. Is it all true?"

"Yes, mother," said the lad bluntly; and he set his teeth for the
encounter that was to come.

"Is this the conduct I ought to expect from my son, after all my care
and teaching--to let his lowest passions get the better of him, so that,
but for the interference of the Prince, he might have stained his sword
with the blood of the youth he calls his friend?"

"It might have been the other way, mother," said the boy bluntly.

"Yes; and had you so little love, so little respect for your mother's
feelings, that you could risk such a thing? I have been prostrated
enough by what has happened. Suppose, instead, the news had been
brought to me that in a senseless brawl my son had been badly wounded--
or slain?"

"Senseless brawl" made the boy wince again.

"It would have been very horrible, mother," he said, in a low voice.

"It would have killed me. Why was it? What was the cause?"

"Oh, it was an affair of honour, mother," said Frank evasively.

"An affair of honour!" cried Lady Gowan scornfully; "a boy like you
daring to speak to me like that! Honour, sir! Where is the honour? It
comes of boys like you two, little better than children, being allowed
to carry weapons. Do you not know that it is an honour to a gentleman
to wear a sword, because it is supposed that he would be the last to
draw it, save in some terrible emergency for his defence or to preserve
another's life, and not at the first hasty word spoken? Had you no
consideration for me? Could you not see how painful my position is at
the court, that you must give me this fresh trouble to bear?"

"Yes, mother; you know how I think of you. I couldn't help it."

"Shame! Could not help it! Is this the result of your education--you,
growing toward manhood--my son to tell me this unblushingly, to give me
this pitiful excuse--you could not help it? Why was it, sir?"

"Well, mother, we quarrelled. Drew is so hot-tempered and passionate."

"And you are perf