sheepskin, the oriental figure of the
Jewish mediciner, and, at the foot of his own bed, the unexpected form
of little Arthur reclined, half sitting, half lying, with his head
resting on his crossed arms, and his long curls floating over them.
All was a riddle to his misty remembrance, clouded by weakness; and, in
vague uncertain recollections and conjectures, the time rolled away,
till the sounds of awakening and calls of the warders within the Castle
betokened that it was occupied by no small number of persons. Still
Arthur slept on, and Eustace abstained from the slightest movement that
could disturb him, till a step stole quietly to the door, and Gaston's
head was seen cautiously and anxiously looking in. Eustace, raising
his hand, beckoned him, and made a sign of silence.

"How is with you, Sir Eustace? It must needs be better. I see a light
in your eye once more."

"I am another man since yesterday, Gaston; but be careful--see there."

"Little fear of breaking such sleep as that," said Gaston. "'Tis a
noble-hearted little fellow, and if matters go better with us
henceforth, it will be his work."

"What is become of Clisson?"

"He was riding off headlong when Master Henry Neville last beheld him,
gaining thereby a sound rating from old Chandos."

"Sir John Chandos here?"

"Fast asleep in your own carved chair, with his feet on the oaken
settle."

"Sir John Chandos!" again exclaimed Eustace.

"Even so. All thanks to the brave young damoiseau who--"

Here Gaston's ardour had the effect of awakening the doctor, who
immediately began to grumble at his patient's admitting visitors
without permission. By the time he had examined Eustace's wounds and
pronounced him to be progressing favourably, the whole Castle was up
and awake, and Arthur, against his will, was sent down to attend on Sir
John Chandos at breakfast, when scarce satisfied that his uncle could
speak to him.

In process of time he came up to announce a visit from Chandos himself,
and close on his steps followed the stalwart old warrior. Pausing at
the door, he looked around him, struck with the aspect of the
dungeon-like apartment, still more rugged in the morning light than in
the evening gloom--the bare rough walls, an arrow sticking between the
stones immediately above the Knight's head, the want of furniture, the
Knight's own mantle and that of Gaston both called into requisition to
protect him from the damp chill night air, their bri