he guard,
and quickly obtained admittance to the presence of the wounded youths,
who occupied a comfortable chamber over the gateway, and had plainly
been well looked to by the capable and kindly woman who called Poleyn
her lord and master.

The bright light of day was excluded from the sickroom, and as the
prince stood in the doorway his eyes only took in the general appearance
of two recumbent figures, one lying upon a couch beside a glowing fire
of wood, and the other extended motionless upon a bed in an attitude
that bespoke slumber, his face bandaged in such a way that in no case
would it have been recognizable.

But as Alphonso's eyes grew used to the darkness, and fixed themselves
upon the face of the other youth, who was dressed and lying on the
couch, he suddenly gave a great start, and advanced with quick steps to
his side.

"Griffeth!" he cried suddenly.

The figure on the couch gave a start, a pair of hollow eyes flashed
open, there was a quick attempt to rise, checked by the prince himself,
and Griffeth exclaimed in the utmost astonishment:

"Prince Alphonso!"

"Yes, Griffeth, it is I indeed;" and then the prince sat down on the
edge of the couch and gazed intently at the wasted features of the
youth, towards whom in days gone by he had felt such a strong attachment.

There was something of sorrow and reproach in his glance as he said gently:

"Griffeth, can it really be thou? I had not thought to have seen thee in
the ranks of our foes, fighting desperately against my father's
soldiers. Whence has come this bitter change in thy feelings? and what
is Wendot doing, who was to act as guardian toward his younger brethren?
Hast thou broken away from his controlling hand? O Griffeth, I grieve to
see thee here and in such plight."

But Griffeth's sad glance met that of the young prince unfalteringly and
without shame, although there was something in it of deep and settled
sorrow. He made a gesture as though he would have put out his hand, and
Alphonso, who saw it, grasped it warmly, generous even when he felt that
he and his father had been somewhat wronged.

"Think not that we took up arms willingly, Wendot and I," he said
faintly, yet with clearness and decision. "Ay, it is Wendot who lies
there, sore wounded, and sleeping soundly after a night of fever and
pain. We shall not disturb him, he is fast in dreamland; and if you
would listen to my tale, gentle prince, I trow you would think something
le