strolled into the archery ground to amuse himself by shooting at a mark.

His hand was unsteady and his aim uncertain that day, yet Brithric's
voice was louder than ever in praising the skill of the Atheling. The
rest of the royal wards took their cue from the bold flatterer, and
addressed to the prince the most extravagant compliments every time his
arrow came near the mark, which they all purposely abstained from
hitting.

At that moment the pale, sorrowful Wilfrid crossed the ground; but,
wishing to escape the attention of the joyous group, he kept at a
distance. The prince, however, observed him, and willing to obliterate
the remembrance of his late unkindness, called to him in a lively
voice: "Come hither, Wilfrid," said he, "and tell me if you think you
could send an arrow nearer to yonder mark than I have done."

"Certainly," replied Wilfrid, "or I should prove myself but a bad
archer."

The group of youthful flatterers, who surrounded the heir of the
throne, smiled contemptuously at the unguarded sincerity of the page in
speaking the truth thus openly and plainly to his lord.

"Wilfrid, if we may believe his own testimony, is not only wiser and
better than any of the servants of the Atheling," said Brithric
scornfully, "but excels even the royal Atheling himself, in all the
exercises of princely skill."

"He has yet to prove his boast," replied the prince, coloring with
suppressed anger; "but give him his bow, Brithric," continued he, "that