s and tethered them.

"Of whom?"

"Of the King, sir. If he's alive, he's getting a rare old horse now."

"Think of him! I wish I did not, Rake."

"Wouldn't you like to see him agen, sir?"

"What folly to ask! You know--"

"Yes, sir, I know," said Rake slowly. "And I know--leastways I picked
it out of a old paper--that your elder brother died, sir, like the old
lord, and Mr. Berk's got the title."

Rake had longed and pined for an opportunity to dare say this thing
which he had learned, and which he could not tell whether or no Cecil
knew likewise. His eyes looked with straining eagerness through the
gloom into his master's; he was uncertain how his words would be taken.
To his bitter disappointment, Cecil's face showed no change, no wonder.

"I have heard that," he said calmly--as calmly as though the news had no
bearing on his fortunes, but was some stranger's history.

"Well, sir, but he ain't the lord!" pleaded Rake passionately. "He won't
never be while you're living, sir!"

"Oh, yes, he is! I am dead, you know."

"But he won't, sir!" reiterated Rake. "You're Lord Royallieu if ever
there was a Lord Royallieu, and if ever there will be one."

"You mistake. An outlaw has no civil rights, and can claim none."

The man looked very wistfully at him; all these years through he had
never learned why his master was thus "dead" in Africa, and he had too
loyal a love and faith ever to ask, or ever to doubt but that Cecil was
the wronged and not the wrong-doer.

"You ain't a outlaw, sir," he muttered. "You could take the title, if
you would."

"Oh, no! I left England under a criminal charge. I should have to
disprove that before I could inherit."

Rake crushed bitter oaths into muttered words as he heard. "You could
disprove it, sir, of course, right and away, if you chose."

"No; or I should not have come here. Let us leave the subject. It was
settled long ago. My brother is Lord Royallieu. I would not disturb him,
if I had the power, and I have not it. Look, the horses are taking well
to their feed."

Rake asked him no more. He had never had a harsh word from Cecil in
their lives; but he knew him too well, for all that, to venture to press
on him a question thus firmly put aside. But his heart ached sorely for
his master; he would so gladly have seen "the king among his own again,"
and would have striven for the restoration as strenuously as ever a
Cavalier strove for the White Rose; and he sat in silen