ay,
Let them be cleared, and now begin to see
Our life is but a step in dusty way,
Then let us hold the bliss of peaceful mind;
Since, feeling this, great loss we cannot find.--_Arcadia_, p. 457.

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

CHAPTER X

AT WILTON

'The silk well could they twist and twine,
And make the fair march pine,
And with the needle work;
And they could help the priest to say
His matins on a holy day,
And sing a psalm at kirk.'

_November 1585._ _Old Rhyme._

The chastened sunshine of an All Saints' summer was lying upon the fair
lawns and terrace walks of Wilton House, near Salisbury, in the year 1585.
It was November, but so soft and balmy was the air that even the birds were
apparently ready to believe that winter was passed over and spring had
come.

The thrushes and blackbirds were answering each other from the trees, and
the air was filled with their melody and with the scent of the late flowers
in the pleasance, lying close under the cloisters, facing the beautiful
undulating grounds of Lord Pembroke's mansion near Salisbury.

The graceful figure of a lady was coming down the grassy slope towards the
house; a boy of five or six years old, with a miniature bow and arrow in
his hand, at her side.

'I would like another shot at this old beech tree, mother,' the child said.
'I do not care to come in to my tasks yet.'

'Will must be an obedient boy, or what will Uncle Philip say, if he comes
to-day and finds him in disgrace with his tutor?'

'Uncle Philip isn't here,' the child said.

'But he will be ere noon. I have had a despatch from him; he is already at
Salisbury, and may be here at any hour.'

At this moment Lady Pembroke saw one of her ladies hastening towards her,
and exclaimed,--

'Ah, Lucy! have you come to capture the truant?'

'Yes, Madam, and to tell you that Sir Philip Sidney's courier has ridden
into the courtyard to announce his Master's speedy arrival.'

'Then I will not go till I have seen Uncle Philip!' and Will dragged at
Lucy's hand as she attempted to lead him towards the house.

'Nay, Will,' his mother said, 'you must do as you are bid.' And forthwith
the boy pouted; yet he knew to resist his mother's will was useless. But
presently there was a shout, as he broke away from Lucy Forrester's hand,
with the cry,--

'Uncle Philip!' and in another moment Sir Philip had taken his little
nephew in his arms, and, salu