to carry out this design.

Hubert de Burgh said nothing as he put by the letter, and dismissed his
three visitors from his presence. Cruel man as he had been, his heart
had still some pity left, and he shrank from obeying his master by so
brutal an act of cruelty upon the innocent boy in his charge.

However, the order of the king was peremptory; and if the deed must be
done, thought he, the sooner the better.

So he ordered the two villains to get ready their instruments, and
follow him to the dungeon.

"Stay here," said he, as they reached the young prince's door, "while I
enter alone and prepare him for his fate."

So those two set down their fire and the red-hot irons, and waited
outside for their summons.

When Hubert entered the dungeon, the poor boy was just waking from a
sleep. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, being dazzled by the light which
Hubert carried in his hand.

"You are welcome," said he (for Arthur, with so few to love him, loved
even his surly, though not unkind, jailor). "I have been in my dreams
away in merry England, where I thought I was living in a beautiful
palace, with food and servants, and rich clothing, and that there was a
crown on my head. And so it shall be some day, Hubert, when I get my
rights; and then because you have not been as unkind to me as some in my
adversity, you shall be a great and rich man. But why look you so
solemn? What ails you?"

The warden stood silent for some moments before he spoke, and then his
voice was thick and hoarse.

"Prince," he said, "take your last look on the light, for you may never
see it again."

The boy sprang from his bed, and seized Hubert by the knees.

"What! Are they going to kill me? Must they take away my life?"

"Not so," said Hubert; "it is not thy life that is required, but thine
eyes." And as he spoke he stamped on the floor, as the signal to those
two who waited without to enter.

At sight of their horrid instruments, the cords which were to bind him,
and the cruel faces of the executioners, Arthur fell on his knees and
implored mercy of the stubborn Hubert.

It was a strange and pitiful sight to see that weak and helpless boy
kneeling, and with tears entreating that stout old warrior, whose bosom
heaved and whose ringers twitched, and whose face winced, as he
listened; while the two others stood motionless, grasping their irons
and cords, ready for the word of command to step forward and do their
cruel deed.