"My son," replied the other, who had listened with eager attention to the narrative, "there's naught, so far, that I condemn, and I applaud thee for thy chivalry, but I had higher hopes for thee than a marriage with a commoner. Thou hast, however, omitted to tell me her name," he added, in a voice betokening anxiety. "Her name is Elinor Fawkes, the daughter of an officer, English by birth, now serving in the army of Spain." "Elinor Fawkes," repeated the father, with a start and looking toward Effingston. "'Tis as I feared. Is this, then, the creature on whom thou wouldst bestow thy name? Have thine ears been out of sorts, never to have heard the rumor which connects her in none too savory a manner with the adventurer Sir Thomas Winter? It is common talk, for I will speak plainly to thee, that she is his mistress." "In thy throat thou liest," the other cried, leaping to his feet, white to the lips with sudden passion; "recall those words, or by St. Paul, I'll strike thee to my feet, forgetting the loins which begat me! She hath fully told me of, and set aside, the lie which coupleth her with Sir Thomas Winter." "Aye, she hath explained to thee readily enough, I trow," exclaimed the other, roused to anger. "Lives there the woman who could not make excuses if but a moment were granted her? I shall not chide thee for thy hasty words; time will bring them to thy memory with remorse. But listen unto reason, and----" "I'll hear no more," Effingston cried, in a voice full of passion. "Stop," said Monteagle, in a commanding voice, holding up his hand, "thou shalt hear! Doth the leech withhold the lance when a patient groans? No, my son; I'll introduce thee to plain facts, and try to cure, even though my duty be a hard one." Effingston sank into his chair, his temper cooled to a degree by his father's manner, and listened with compressed lips and knitted brow to what followed.