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“Sir John Enderby,” said he, “I know how honourable a man you are, and I think I know the way you feel. But, as one gentleman to another, permit me a word of counsel. ‘Twere better to humour my Lord Rippingdale, and to yield up to the King’s demands, than to lose all. Lack of money and estate–that is hard enough on a single man like me, but with a gentleman who has the care of a daughter, perhaps”–his look again met the young lady’s face–“the case is harder. A little yielding on your part–“

“I will not yield,” was Enderby’s reply.

Mowbray bowed once more, and retired without more speaking.

In a few moments he returned, Lord Rippingdale with him. The entrance doors were once more opened, and my lord, in a temper, at once began:

“You press your courtesies too far, Sir John Enderby.”

“Less strenuously than the gentlemen of the road pressed their discourtesies upon his Majesty and yourself last night, my lord.”

“I am come upon that business. For your bravery and loyalty, if you will accept the knighthood, and pay the sum set as the courtesy of the accolade, his Majesty will welcome you at Court, and raise you to a barony. But his Majesty must see that his dignity be not injured.”

“The King may have my life and all my goods as a gift, but I will not give either by these indirect means. It does not lie in a poor squire like me to offend the King’s dignity.”

“You are resolved?”

“I am resolved,” answered Enderby, stubbornly. “Then you must bear the consequences, and yield up your estates and person into my hands. Yourself and your family are under arrest, to be dealt with hereafter as his Majesty sees fit.”

“I will not yield up my estates, nor my person, nor my son and daughter, of my free will.”

With an incredulous smile, Rippingdale was about to leave and enter upon a siege of the house, when he saw young Enderby and caught a strange look in his face.

“Young gentleman,” said he, “are you a cipher in this game? A barony hangs on this. Are you as stubborn and unruly as the head of your house?”

Garrett Enderby made no reply, but turned and walked into the library, his father’s and sister’s eyes following him in doubt and dismay, for the chance was his at that moment to prove himself.

A moment afterwards Lord Rippingdale was placing his men to attack the house, disposing of some to secure a timber to batter in the door, and of some to make assaults upon the rear of the building. Enderby had placed his men advantageously to resist attack, giving the defence of the rear of the house to his son. Mistress Felicity he had sent to an upper room in the care of her aunt.

Presently the King’s men began the action, firing wherever a figure showed itself, and carrying a log to batter in the entrance door. Enderby’s men did good work, bringing down four of the besiegers at the first volley.

Those who carried the log hesitated for a moment, and Enderby called encouragingly to his men.

At this exciting moment, while calling to his men, he saw what struck him dumb–his son hurrying forward with a flag of truce to Lord Rippingdale! Instantly my lord commanded his men to retire.

“Great God!” said Sir John, with a groan, “my son–my only son–a traitor!” Turning to his men he bade them cease firing.

Throwing open the entrance doors, he stood upon the steps and waited for Lord Rippingdale.

“You see, Sir John Enderby, your son–” began my lord.

“It was to maintain my rights, and for my son’s sake and my daughter’s, that I resisted the command of the King,” interrupted the distressed and dishonoured gentleman, “but now–“

“But now you yield?”

He inclined his head, then looking down to the place where his son stood, he said:

“My son–my only son!” And his eyes filled with tears.