andsome lady," he said, innocently, "though she has a
strange way. Is she of the Court, and do you know her name?"

"'Tis her Grace the Duchess of Cleveland," answered Mr. Fox, gravely,
as they walked away.

He was seven years old at this time, and 'twas during this visit to
town that he heard a conversation which made a great impression upon
him, opening up as it did new vistas of childish thinking. Having
known but one phase of existence, he was not aware that he had lived
the life of a young prince in a fairy tale, and that there were other
children whose surroundings were as gloomy as his were fair and bright.

He was one day comfortably ensconced in the deep embrasure of a window,
a book upon his knee, when Mistress Halsell and one of the upper
servants came into the room upon which his study opened, and presently
his ear was attracted by a thing they were speaking of with some
feeling.

"As sweetly pretty a young lady as ever one beheld," he heard. "Never
saw I a fairer skin or eyes more hyacinth-blue--and her hair trailing
to the ground like a mantle, and as soft and fine as silk."

'Twas this which made him stop in his reading. The description seeming
so like that of a beauty in a story of chivalry in which knights fought
for such loveliness.

"And now," the voice went on, "after but a few years of marriage all
her beauty lost so that none would know her! Four poor, weak girl
infants she hath given birth to, and her husband, Sir Jeoffry, in a
fury at the coming of each, raging that it is not an heir. Before the
first came he had begun to slight her, and when 'twas born a girl he
well-nigh broke her heart. He is a great, bold, handsome man, and she,
poor little lady, hopeless in her worship of him. And the next year
there was another girl, and each year since--and Sir Jeoffry spends his
time in riot and drinking and ill-living--and she fades away in her
wing of the house, scarce ever seen."

"Poor, uncared-for thing, 'twould be happier if God took her, and her
children, too," said Mistress Halsell.

"Three have been taken," replied her companion, in a low voice.
"Neither she nor they have strength. And ah! to see her in these
days--her pretty face grown thin and haggard, the blue of her eyes
drenched out with weeping. 'Tis told he once said to her, 'When a woman
grows thin and yellow, her husband will go in search of better looks,
and none has right to blame him.' 'Twas on a day when she had dressed
her