whereby in his battle with it he was
horribly bitten; and when the animal lay dead upon the sward he drew
his hunting-knife and cut out the mangled flesh with his own hand, "and
winced not nor swouned," as the chronicle recorded with open joy in
him.

'Twas while Roxholm lay in bed recovering of his injuries that his
kinsman referred to this again, asking him what thoughts he had had of
this hero and wherein he had felt them an aid, and the boy's answers
and the talk which followed them had been the beginning of many such
conversations, his Lordship finding the young mind full of vigour and
fine imagination. Often, as they conversed in after times, the older
man was moved by the courageous fancies and strong, high ideals he
found himself confronting. 'Twas all so brave and beautiful, and there
was such tragedy in the thought that life might hold clouds to dull the
gold of it. 'Tis but human that those of maturer years who have known
sorrow should be reminded of it by the very faith and joyfulness of
youth. One of the fine features of the Tower of Camylott was its Long
Gallery, which was of such length and breadth and so finely panelled as
to be renowned through all the land. At each end the broad windows
looked out upon noble stretches of varying hill and tall and venerable
forest, and in wet weather, when the house was full the ladies and
gentlemen would promenade there, chatting or sometimes playing games to
amuse themselves.

In such weather my Lord Dunstanwolde and his young kinsman sometimes
paced whole mornings away together, and 'twas on such an occasion that
there first entered into Roxholm's life that which later filled and
ruled it and was its very self. But at this time he was scarcely
fourteen, and 'twas but the first strange chapter of a story he heard,
in no way dreaming that 'twas one of which his own deepest pain and
highest raptures would be part.

Often as the years passed, my Lord Dunstanwolde looked back upon this
December day and remembered how, as they walked to and fro, he had
marked for the hundredth time how beautiful and picturesque a figure
the boy made in his suit of rich-coloured brocade, his curling, warm
brown hair falling on his shoulders in thick, natural curls such as no
perruquier could imitate, the bloom of health and out-door life upon
his cheek, his handsome, well-opened eye sparkling or melting in kindly
warmth as he conversed. He was a tall, straight-limbed lad, and had by
th