gs cut off. I don't. I looks at a man's hand to see
what's the matter with him, and if I see as he's got a soft, white hand
like a gal's, I know directly he's got no muscles in his arms, no spring
in his back, and no legs to nip a horse's ribs or to march fifty mile in
a day. Now, just look at yours."

"Oh, I can't help what my hands are like," said the boy, impatiently.

"Oh, yes, you can, sir. You've been a-neglecting of 'em, sir, horrible;
so just you come to me a little more and let me harden you up a bit. If
you've got to be a statesman, you won't be none the worse for being able
to fight, and ride, and run. Now, will you? and--There's some one
a-calling you, my lad."

"Yes, coming!" cried Roy; and he hurried out of the armoury into a long,
dark passage, at the end of which a window full of stained glass
admitted the sunbeams in a golden, scarlet, blue, and orange sheaf of
rays which lit up the tall, stately figure of a lady, to whom the boy
ran with a cry of--

"Yes, mother!"

CHAPTER TWO.

ROY'S MOTHER AND TUTOR.

"I had missed you, Roy," said the lady, smiling proudly on the boy; and
he looked with eyes full of pride at the beautiful woman, who now rested
her arm upon his shoulder and walked by his side into the more homelike
part of the old fortalice, whose grim interior had been transformed by
wainscoting, hangings, carpets, stained glass, and massive oak furniture
into the handsome mansion of the middle of the seventeenth century.

They passed down a broad staircase into a noble hall, and from thence
into a library whose broad, low, mullioned stone window opened into what
had been the inner court of the castle, whose ramparts and flanking
corner towers were still there; but the echoing stones that had once
paved it had given place to verdant lawn, trim flower-beds ablaze with
bloom, quaintly-cut shrubs, and creepers which beautified the walls once
so bare and grim.

"I want to talk to you, Roy," said Lady Royland, sinking into a great
formal chair. "Bring your stool and sit down."

"Got too big for the stool, mother," said the boy; "I can't double up my
legs close enough. I'll sit here."

He threw himself upon the thick carpet at her feet, and rested his arms
upon her lap.

"Want to talk to me? I'd rather hear you read."

"Not now, my dear."

"Why, what's the matter, mother?" said the boy, anxiously. "You're as
white as can be. Got one of your headaches?"

"No, my boy,--at l