had choked all the aspirations and ambitions
which, his whole life long, he had cultivated and nourished in the soil
of his developing soul.

He thought again and again of the glories so near at hand--the glories
that had for years been the goal of his ambition. He pictured the
pageant to come--the glitter of armor and liveries, the splendor and
sparkle of jewels and lights, and all the dazzling gorgeousness of royal
equipments--the throngs of courtiers and beautiful women bowing before
him, proud of the privilege of doing him homage--him, a mere boy--yet
the king--the absolute monarch of his little realm, and supreme in his
undisputed sway over the hearts of his people--his people who had
worshipped his beautiful mother and, if only for her sake, made an idol
of her son. He saw himself crowned by loving hands with the golden
circlet he loved and reverenced, and meant to redeem from the stigma of
a worthless father's abuse and desecration; he saw his own young hands,
strong, pure, and undefiled by any form of bribery or political
corruption, wielding the sceptre that should--please God!--bring
everlasting honor and fame to the little principality. He saw all this,
and yet it did not thrill him any more! It was all Dead Sea fruit, dust
and ashes in his hand. He wanted but one thing now--and his whole
kingdom did not weigh one pennyweight against it.

But in spite of his preoccupation the freedom and massiveness of the
West broadened the Boy's mental vision. He absorbed the spirit of the
big world it typified, and he saw things more clearly than in the
crowded city. And yet he suffered more, too. He could not often talk
about his sorrow and his loss, but he felt all the time the unspoken
sympathy in Verdayne's companionship, and was grateful for the
completeness of the understanding between them.

Once, far out in a wide expanse of sparsely settled land, the two came
upon a hut--a little rough shanty with a sod roof, and probably but two
tiny rooms at most. It was nearing evening, and the red rays of the
setting sun fell upon a young woman, humbly clad, sitting on a bench at
the doorway, and cuddling upon her knee a little baby dressed in coarse,
but spotlessly white garments. A whistle sounded on the still air, and
through the waving grain strode a stalwart man, an eager, expectant
light in his bronzed face. The girl sprang to meet him with an
inarticulate cry of joy, and wife and baby were soon clasped close to
his b