It
looked as if he had not wholly taken to heart the lesson Sir Beverley had
intended to convey, and if that were the case--again Sir Beverley swore
deep in his soul--he was fully equal to repeating it, ay, and again
repeating it, until the youngster came to heel. He never had endured any
nonsense from Piers, and, by Gad, he never would!
With these reflections he stumped downstairs, and seated himself on the
black, oaken settle in the hall to await the boy's advent.
The fire blazed cheerily, flinging ruddy gleams upon the shining suits of
armour, roaring up the chimney in a sheet of flame. Sir Beverley sat
facing the stairs, the grim lines hardened to implacability about his
mouth, his eyes fixed in a stare that had in it something brutal. He was
seeing again that slim, straight figure of womanhood standing in his
path, with arms outstretched, and white, determined face upraised,
barring the way.
"Curse her!" he growled. "Curse 'em all!"
The vision grew before his gaze of hate; and now she was no longer
standing between him and a mere, defenceless animal. But there, on his
own stairs, erect and fearless, she withstood him, while behind her,
descending with a laugh on his lips and worship in his eyes, came Piers.
The stone-grey eyes became suffused; for a few, whirling moments of
bewilderment and fury, they saw all things red.
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