“There was no need of a first rejection, as you call it. You could have spared us both all this shame had you chosen a proper time and place to seek me.”
“I had come some miles and I was eager to see you,” Hugh answered slowly.
“Had they used you ill at Everscombe that you ran away?” the colonel broke in.
“N-no, sir,” Hugh must admit in simple justice. “My grandfather always used me rather kindly.”
“Gilbert Oldesworth?” Colonel Gwyeth turned impatiently from the fireplace. “’Twas of him, I doubt not, you had your good Roundhead doctrine.”
“I—do not understand, sir.”
“The doctrine of giving your cheek unto the smiter. That cut on your face, now, was that, too, given you by one of my grooms?”
Hugh felt the blood sting in his cheeks; he looked at his father but made no answer.
“Perchance, sir—” Ridydale ventured in a subdued voice.
“Be quiet, John.—I have heard the whole history of your last fortnight, Hugh Gwyeth, your honorable associates, your gentle bearing, all you have done to uphold the credit of your house.”