“You are all aware, my boys, of the order that no one below knightly rank should shoot deer in my forests?”
“We are,” said one and all.
“Does any page profess ignorance of the rule?”
No reply.
“Then I have another question to put, and first of all, let me beg most earnestly to press upon the guilty one the necessity of truth and honour, which, although it may not justify me in remitting the penalty, may yet retain him my friendship. A deer has been slain in the woods, and by one of you. Let the guilty boy avow his fault.”
No one stirred.
The earl looked troubled.
“This grieves me deeply,” he said, “far more than the mere offence. It becomes a matter of honour—he who stirs not, declares himself innocent, called by lawful authority to avow the truth as he now is.”
Once or twice the earl looked sadly at Hubert, but the face of the fair boy was unclouded. If he had looked on the other side, he might have seen anxiety, if not apprehension, on one face.
“Enter then, sir forester.”