ecil would not have taken the man
in to exile, and danger, and temptation, and away from comfort and an
honest life, for any consideration; yet it gave him something of a
pang that Rake was so soon dissuaded from following him, and so easily
convinced of the folly of his fidelity. But he had dealt himself a far
deadlier one when he had resolved to part forever from the King. He
loved the horse better than he loved anything--fed from his hand in
foalhood, reared, broken, and trained under his own eye and his own
care, he had had a truer welcome from those loving, lustrous eyes than
all his mistresses ever gave him. He had had so many victories, so many
hunting-runs, so many pleasant days of winter and of autumn, with Forest
King for his comrade and companion! He could better bear to sever from
all other things than from the stable-monarch, whose brave heart never
failed him, and whose honest love was always his.

He stretched his hand out with his accustomed signal; the King lifted
his head where he grazed, and came to him with the murmuring noise of
pleasure he always gave at his master's caress, and pressed his
forehead against Cecil's breast, and took such tender heed, such earnest
solicitude, not to harm him with a touch of the mighty fore hoofs, as
those only who care for and know horses well will understand in its
relation.

Cecil threw his arm over his neck, and leaned his own head down on it,
so that his face was hidden. He stood motionless so many moments, and
the King never stirred, but only pressed closer and closer against
his bosom as though he knew that this was his eternal farewell to his
master. But little light came there, the boughs grew so thickly; and it
was still and solitary as a desert in the gloom of the meeting trees.

There have been many idols--idols of gold, idols of clay--less pure,
less true than the brave and loyal-hearted beast from whom he parted
now.

He stood motionless a while longer, and where his face was hidden, the
gray silken mane of the horse was wet with great, slow tears that forced
themselves through his closed eyes; then he laid his lips on the King's
forehead, as he might have touched the brow of the woman he loved; and
with a backward gesture of his hand to his servant, plunged down into
the deep slope of netted boughs and scarce penetrable leafage, that
swung back into their places, and shrouded him from sight with their
thick, unbroken screen.

"He's forgot me right