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"Thou dost but jest with me," he cried, taking a step nearer his rival; "perchance, having come from the arms of thy mistress, thy wits are so dulled that " The reply of Effingston was sudden and unexpected.
As it is atheism and blasphemy to dispute what is in God's power, so it is presumption and high contempt for a subject to question a king's will; nor should a king abate even the breadth of a hair from that right which his prerogative gives unto him." The Viscount Effingston pulled his father's sleeve.
Some of the gentlemen about the throne smiled, for James loved a jest; but Effingston turned away and pressed his father's hand. "Come!" cried the King, impatiently; "wilt not find thy tongue? 'tis not my custom to speak a second time. What didst thou in the cellar?" Fawkes raised his eyes and the King saw in them a look of such utter hopelessness that some chord of pity in his heart was touched.
Amazed at so unwonted a spectacle the peers could only stare, transfixed. The girl had reached the space before the throne and stopped beside the table at which Effingston stood, who alone, of all the House, had started to his feet and confronted her. For one brief moment she gazed into his eyes, then stretched forth her hand.
"What could have made thee treat me so?" she whispered, passing a hand across her face, as if endeavoring to brush away that which hindered her thoughts. "Have I not suffered enough?" she continued, piteously. "I was not thy assailant," answered Effingston, motioning to the figure on the road; "there he lieth; thou canst go thy way in peace." The girl glanced in the direction and shuddered.
Evidently the girl had not heard, or at least the words made no impression upon her brain, for she nestled closely to him like a frightened child seeking protection. "Come," he whispered. She obeyed without a word. They passed upon their way in silence and at last reached her dwelling. Effingston opened the door which stood unbarred, and assisted her to enter.
"To face this woman with the accusations thou hast just uttered against her." "Stay; go not in thine anger, for some mischief may be wrought. Wait until thy temper cools; see her not again, but write." "I am not a killer of unarmed adversaries," retorted Effingston; "again, I repeat, have no fear for me."
Suddenly his eyes fell upon Effingston; for an instant he paused, then following the gaze of the grief-stricken nobleman, saw her who lay upon the floor. A mist gathered before his eyes; a blinding flash of unreal but fierce accusing light seared his brain and turned him into stone.
To Effingston, the thought that against his better judgment he had been drawn into a public brawl, caused his face to glow with passion, and his desire to leave the locality was not less than that of the other.
"I'll hear no more of thy speech," cried the now angry man, leaping meanwhile to the middle of the road; "soon will I put holes in thy genteel carcass which will leave thy vitals cold for some time to come. Up with thy sword, if thy bravery be not all talk." He unfastened his leather jerkin and stood awaiting Effingston, who loosened the clasp of his mantle.
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