And for a moment they remained silent, their cheeks pressed together,
the scent of the spring flowers wafting up to them from the terrace,
the church bells pealing out through the radiant air.

"He was born of love," his mother whispered at last. "He will live amid
love and see only honour and nobleness."

"He will grow to be a noble gentleman," said my lord Duke. "And some
day he will love a noble lady, and they will be as we have been--as we
have been, beloved."

And their faces turned towards each other as if some law of nature drew
them, and their lips met--and their child stirred softly in its first
sleep.




_CHAPTER II_

"_He is the King_"


The bells pealed at intervals throughout the day in at least five
villages over which his Grace of Osmonde was lord--at Roxholm they
pealed, at Marlowell Dane, at Paulyn Dorlocke, at Mertounhurst, at
Camylott--and in each place, when night fell, bonfires were lighted and
oxen roasted whole, while there were dancing and fiddling and drinking
of ale on each village green.