ter were
so fond. In his heart he cared little for any one. He had never loved
the Princess Clare, and the Prince was dear only because one day he
would be king. Yet Robert hated to see them love any one else.

The King was resolved to put an end to this state of things as soon as
might be. But he dared not do anything yet for fear of causing his son
to fall ill again. He sat and brooded and planned in his wicked heart
what he would do when the Prince should be well once more. And for him
the time went slowly which others found so happy.

Of all this the Prince and John guessed nothing. For the King seemed
to them no more gruff and grum than usual. All the wishes of the
strangers were regarded, and they were treated like distinguished
guests in the palace. But the Hermit kept his eyes open. And one
other was not blind to the King's hatred. Clare, the little Princess
who had never been loved by her father, knew the meaning of the black
looks which he sometimes cast upon the two forest-comers, and her heart
was uneasy, for she loved them both.

The Prince grew so much better that he could walk about. One day he
was lying upon his couch in a balcony overlooking the royal park. The
Hermit sat close by, reading aloud from the book which he was teaching
the Prince to love, as he had taught John. The little Princess bent
over her embroidery frame at the foot of the couch, and John himself,
on the floor at her feet, was playing with Brutus. The other animals
and birds were straying about the balcony, or lay cuddled in the
Prince's lap. John thought how like this scene was to the Animal
Kingdom in the woods; yet how unlike. And he glanced from the Prince
to the Princess with a smile of content. It seemed hardly possible
that this was the land where no pets were allowed; where hunting was
the favorite sport of the King and his son!

Suddenly, in a pause of the reading, the Prince put out his hand.

"Friends," he said, "you have taught me many things in these weeks that
you have dwelt under this roof. You have cured me; you have made me
laugh. I have been thinking much of late how it is that where you come
folk are happy. Your faces make the world smile. How different from
my father and me! We have always made every one weep. There has been
something wrong, I know not what. No one loves us,--not even Clare
here."

"O brother!" protested the little maid, "I have always loved you. But
never so dearly