“What!” cried Ralph fiercely.
“You surely don’t want to fight, boy?”
“No, father, I don’t want to fight; but if you are obliged to— Oh, father, you will not send me away?”
Sir Morton looked searchingly at the flushed countenance before him for some moments before speaking.
“If you wish to stay, Ralph, certainly I shall not send you away. I only gave you the opportunity to go if you wished. However, perhaps we shall hear no more of the matter. Eden may not listen to that scoundrel. If he does, we may set to work and furbish up our arms, lay in stores of provisions, and be prepared for our defence.”
“Then I hope he will engage the men, father,” cried Ralph.
“Eh? And pray why, boy?” exclaimed Sir Morton.
“Because, father,” said the lad, speaking in a deeply-moved tone of voice, his eyes flashing and his cheeks flushed. “You have done nothing lately to show how deeply you resent all the old wrongs; and if the Edens hire these men, it will be a good opportunity for fighting our old foes, beating them and taking possession, and ending the feud.”
“Yes,” said Sir Morton, smiling, “a good opportunity, boy; but we might lose the day.”
“We will not lose the day, father,” cried the lad hotly. “Those men who fight for pay are cowards at heart, and they will lead the Edens to their destruction.”