"What you say is very just, Edward; at the same time there is an honest look about this lad, although he is a gipsy, that makes me put a sort of confidence in him. Admitting that he has been taught to do wrong, do you not think that when told the contrary he may be persuaded to do right?"
"It is not impossible, certainly," replied Edward; "but, Humphrey, be on the safe side, and do not trust him too far until you know more of him."
"That I most certainly will not," replied Humphrey. "When do you purpose going over to the keepers cottage, Edward?"
"In a day or two; but I am not exactly in a humor now to be very civil to the Roundheads, although the one I have promised to visit is a lady, and a very amiable, pretty little girl in the bargain."
"Why, Edward, what has made you feel more opposed to them than usual?"
"In the first place, Humphrey, the murder of the king—for it was murder and nothing better—I can not get that out of my head; and yesterday I obtained what I consider as almost a gift from Heaven, and if it is so it was not given but with the intention that I should make use of it."
"And what was that, Edward?"
"Our gallant father's sword, which he drew so nobly and so well in defense of his sovereign, Humphrey, and which I trust his son may one day wield with equal distinction, and, it may be, better fortune. Come in with me, and I will show it to you."
Edward and Humphrey went into the bedroom, and Edward brought out the sword, which he had placed by his side on the bed.
"See, Humphrey, this was our father's sword; and," continued Edward, kissing the weapon, "I trust I may be permitted to draw it to revenge his death, and the death of one whose life ever should have been sacred."