years too late; the ancient days of knight errantry and chivalry would
have suited you better than these."

"It is your fault, mother," he replied. "When I was only twelve years
old, you gave me a beautiful edition of Froissart's Chronicles, and
everything else has seemed dull and tame to me since."

"I thought as much," she said, quietly; "you make the same mistake
others have made before you; you live in the past, not in the present."

"You are right, mother; in these days, there seems to me nothing to do."

"Your father thought differently," she said; "he died from overwork."

"Ah! my dear father was a genius," said the young man, thoughtfully, and
for some minutes there was silence between them.

"I can understand you," said Lady Hildegarde, with a smile; "you would
like to have been a knight, always looking out for some romantic
adventure; you would have fought giants, released distressed
princesses."

"Overthrown all wrong and upheld all right," he said; "that would have
been my vocation."

Lady Hildegarde went over to him and laid her hand on his head. "My
dearest boy, you are young yet, but will live to see that there is as
much to be done in the way of redressing wrong now as there was in the
days when knights rode forth to do battle for lady fair."