'I am near seven years old, and I can fling a stone further than Giles,
the cowherd's boy, and I can bend a bow, and--'

'Hush, my little son,' Mary Gifford said. 'Do not chatter of your doings.
Mr Sidney does not care to hear of them.'

'Strength of limb is good,' Philip said, 'but strength of will is better,
little Ambrose. Strive to be a dutiful son to the best of mothers. A
fatherless boy has to do his utmost to have a care of his mother.'

The child left Philip Sidney's side, and went to his mother, who had turned
away her face, with an exclamation of distress.

'Fatherless,' she repeated; 'ay, and worse than fatherless!'

But the words did not reach Mr Sidney's ears. His groom was waiting for him
at the gate leading to the lane, and, taking Ambrose by the hand, he
said,--

'Come with me, boy, and I will give you a ride to the end of the lane; and
do you, Mistress Lucy, follow, and take back the young horseman when I have
put him down, if it please you.'

'I will come also,' Mary Gifford said hastily.

She could scarcely bear her boy out of her sight, and watched him with
anxious eyes, as Sir Philip set him on the saddle, across which his small
legs could scarcely stride, the child dumb with delight, his eyes
sparkling, his little hands clutching the bridle-rein, and his figure drawn
up to its full height.

'Oh, have a care, Ambrose,' Mary exclaimed.

Mr Sidney laughed.

'He shall come to no harm, Mistress Gifford. My hand is ready to stop him
if he falls. But, indeed, there is no fear; he sits square and upright,
like a man.'

The beautiful, well-trained horse arched his neck in reply to his master's
'Softly, Hero--quietly,' as he stepped out, raising his feet deliberately,
with that stately air which marks high breeding, and pacing down the rugged
path of the lane, with slow and measured tread, Mr Sidney at his side, the
groom in attendance following with the other horse.

'Oh, I would like to ride like thus far, far away,' the boy said, as Mr
Sidney lifted him down, and set him by his mother's side.

'Make Mr Sidney your bow, and say you are grateful to him for this great
kindness, Ambrose.'

The child was almost too excited to speak, but Mr Sidney sprang lightly
into the saddle, and, with a parting smile to Lucy, with the words, 'We
shall await your decision, Mistress Forrester,' he rode away, the groom
following.

Lucy stood at the turn of the road, watching the horses and the riders,
till