Sir Oliver and his wife listened with some anxiety to the boys' story of the rescue of the peddler.

Bertram observed the cloud upon his father's brow, and eagerly asked if he had done wrong.
"I say not so, my son," replied the knight.

"I would ever have a child of mine merciful and just--the protector of the oppressed, and the champion of the defenceless; nevertheless--" "And it was those bloodhounds of Mortimer's who were setting upon him," broke in Julian vehemently.

"What right had they to molest him?
Could we of Chad, upon our own soil, stand by and see it done?
I trow, father, that thou wouldst have done the same hadst thou been there." A smile flitted over the face of the knight.

He loved to see the generous fire burning in his boys' eyes; but for all that his face was something anxious as he made reply: "Belike I should, my son, albeit perhaps in a something less vehement fashion.