The picture brought before him was hideous and made him grow hot. His
spirit had never been tamed, he had the blood of fighting men in his
veins, and he had read innumerable stories of chivalry. He wished he
were big enough to go forth in search of such men as this Sir Jeoffry,
and strike them to the earth with his sword.

On such evenings as their Graces did not entertain, he was taken by his
governour to spend an hour with his father and mother in the
withdrawing-room, where they sat, and on this evening, when he went to
them, each of them observed that he spoke less than usual and seemed in
a new mood. He had always been filled with a passionate adoration of
his mother, and was much given to following her with his eyes; but this
night his gaze was fixed upon her in such earnest scrutiny that at last
her Grace asked him laughingly what he saw in her looks more than
ordinary. He had kept very close to her, and had held her hand, and
kissed it more than once since he had been in the room. He lifted it to
his lips again now, and pressed an impassioned kiss upon its fairness.

"You were never treated cruelly," he said. "No one would ever dare to
speak so to you that you would sob and swoon. If any dared!" and his
little hand involuntarily went to his side with a fierce childish
gesture which made my lord Duke laugh delightedly.

"'Tis in his blood to draw," he said. "Bravo! Roxholm; bravo!"

His mother looked at his beautiful little face and, seeing a thing in
his eyes which women who are mothers detect in the eyes of their
offspring when others observe little, put a hand on each of his
shoulders and went upon one knee so that she could be on a level with
his face and see deeper.