d dragged heavily at his
mother's hand. Humphrey offered to carry the boy, but he resented that as
an indignity, and murmured that he had not seen Mr Sidney, and he wanted to
ride his horse again.

'Mr Sidney has other matters on hand than to look after a tired, cross
boy,' his mother said. 'Come, my son, quicken your pace somewhat, or we
shall not be at home for supper. It was a grand treat for you to be
entertained by my Lady Mary's sons, and you should be in high good humour,'
she continued.

But poor little Ambrose kept up the same murmured discontent, of which the
burden was,--

'I want to ride on Mr Sidney's horse,' and he dragged back more
persistently than ever, till his mother's fair face flushed with the
exertion of pulling him up the steep hill, over which the low westering sun
was casting a glow, which was hot for the time of year.

Humphrey at last settled the matter by lifting Ambrose, in spite of his
struggles, upon his shoulders, and saying,--

'You will never be a true knight, boy, like Mr Sidney, if you growl and
scold at trifles. Fie, for shame, see how weary you have made your mother.'

'I don't love you,' the child said, 'and I hate to be carried like a babe.'

'Then do not behave as a babe,' Mary said, 'but thank Master Humphrey for
his patience and for sparing you the climb uphill. If you love me, Ambrose,
be amenable and good.'

The appeal had its effect. The child sat quietly on his perch on Humphrey's
broad shoulder, and soon forgot his vexation in watching the rapid
evolutions of a hawk in chase of a flight of small birds, one of which at
last was made its prey.

'See, see, mother; hark, that is the cry of the little bird, the hawk has
got it.'

Mary Gifford stopped, and, looking up, saw the hawk in full swing, not many
hundred yards distant, with the bird in its beak, fluttering and struggling
in vain.

'Ah!' she said, with a shudder, 'the weak is ever the prey of the strong,
Master Humphrey,' and then she stopped.

He looked down on her troubled face with intense sympathy.

'Master Humphrey, the Countess of Pembroke and Lady Mary said they would
fain make my boy a page in attendance. Oh! I cannot, I dare not part with
him, he is my all--my all.'

'Nor shall you part from him,' Humphrey said. 'No one could wish to force
you to do so.'

'No one--no one; but if a trap were laid, if a net were spread, if a
ruthless hawk pursues a defenceless bird, the end is gained at last!'