ng in his father's tone that warned Alphonso to press
the matter no more. He knew that when Edward thus spoke his word was
final and irrevocable; and all he ventured now to ask was, "What will
become of Wendot and his brother? You will not take their lives, sweet
sire?"

"Their lives I give to thee, my son," answered Edward, with a gesture
towards his boy which betrayed a deep love, and showed that although he
had denied him sternly he did not do so willingly. "As thou hast pleaded
for them, I will not sentence them to death; but they remain my
prisoners, and regain not their liberty. I know the turbulent race from
which they spring. Sir Res will have small peace in his new possessions
if any of the former princes of Dynevor are at large in the country.
Wendot and Griffeth remain my prisoners."

"Nay, father; let them be my prisoners, I pray," cried Alphonso, with
unwonted energy and animation. "Thou hast granted me their lives; grant
me the keeping of their persons too. Nay, think not that I will connive
at their escape. Give whatsoever charge thou wilt concerning the safety
of their persons to those who guard us in our daily life, but let me
have them as gentlemen of mine own. Call them prisoners an you will, but
let their imprisonment be light -- let me enjoy their company. Thou
knowest that Britton is fretting for a freer life, and that I see little
of him now. I have often longed for a companion to share my solitary
hours. Give me Griffeth and Wendot. They have the royal blood of Wales
flowing in their veins, and methinks they love me even as I love them.
And, father, Griffeth has not many months, methinks, to live; and I know
so well all he suffers that my heart goes out to him. He has the love of
books that I have, and we have so many thoughts which none seem to
understand save our two selves. And he and Wendot are as one. It would
be cruelty such as thou wouldst not inflict to separate them whilst one
has so short a time to live. Give me them for mine own attendants, and
bid the servants guard them as best pleaseth thee. Sweet father, I have
not asked many boons of thee. Grant me this one, I pray thee, for my
heart is verily set on it."

There was something in this appeal, something in the look upon
Alphonso's face, something in the very words he had used, that made it
impossible to his father to refuse him. Blind his eyes as he would to
the truth, he was haunted by a terrible fear that the life of his only
s