shuddering chilliness. His elbow rested on the arm of his chair,
and his wasted cheek leant on his hand--the long thin fingers of
which showed white and transparent as a lady's; his eyes were bent
on the ground, and a look of suffering or of moody thought hung over
the whole of that face, once full of free and open cheerfulness.
Tears filled Eustace's eyes as he beheld that wreck of manhood and
thought of that bright day of hope and gladness when his brother
had presented him to the Prince.

As he hesitated to advance, the Prince, raising his eyes, encountered
that earnest and sorrowful gaze, but only responding by a stern glance
of displeasure. Eustace, however, stepped forward, and bending one
knee, said, "My Lord, I come to report myself as returned to your
service, and at the same time to crave for my nephew the protection
you were graciously pleased to promise him."

"It is well, Sir Eustace Lynwood," said Edward, coldly, and with a
movement of his head, as if to dismiss him from his presence; "and
you, boy, come hither," he added as Arthur, seeing his uncle rise
and retreat a few steps, was following his example. "I loved your
father well," he said, laying his hand on the boy's bright wavy hair,
"and you shall find in me a steady friend as long as you prove
yourself not unworthy of the name you bear."

In spite of the awe with which Arthur felt his head pressed by
that royal hand, in spite of his reverence for the hero and the
Prince, he raised his eyes and looked upon the face of the Prince
with an earnest, pleading, almost upbraiding gaze, as if, child as
he was, he deprecated the favour, which so evidently marked the
slight shown to his uncle. But the Prince did not heed him, and