"Think of me as your son," said Roxholm with his fine smile. "A man is
the richer for the love of two fathers."

"Oxford has not changed you, Roxholm," said the Earl. "Nor have the
Court ladies' flatteries spoiled your kindly manners. We shall be happy
together, for awhile at least."

They were indeed happy, spending their days much as they had spent them
at Camylott--riding together, taking long sauntering walks, reading old
books and new ones, and in these days conversing on maturer subjects.
There was indeed much to talk of at this closing of a reign which had
been full of struggles with problems affecting not only England but all
the European powers. What the Peace of Ryswick had effected, what the
death of Charles of Spain would bring, whether Louis would play fairly,
how long King William's broken frame would last, what the power of the
Marlboroughs would be when the Princess Anne came to the throne--all
these things they discussed together, and in their arguments my Lord
Dunstanwolde was often roused to the wonder other ripe minds had felt
in coming in contact with the activity and daring of this younger one.

"'Tis not possible to hide a handsome young nobleman under a bushel,"
the Earl said after but a few days had passed. "The neighbours will
have you to dine, and dance, and hunt with them, whether it is your
will or not. A strapping young fellow must do his duty by the world."

Roxholm performed his duty with propriety and spirit when it was not to
be evaded gracefully. He dined with country gentlemen, and listened to
their songs and stories until most of them drank themselves under the
table, as was the spirited fashion of the time. He answered the