Hobbs and Hugo fell to talking together, in low voices, and the king removed

Himself as far as he could from their disagreeable company. He withdrew into

The twilight of the farther end of the barn, where he found the earthen floor

Bedded a foot deep with straw. He lay down here, drew straw over himself in

Lieu of blankets, and was soon absorbed in thinking. He had many griefs, but

The minor ones were swept almost into forgetfulness by the supreme one, the

Loss of his father. To the rest of the world the name of Henry VIII brought a

Shiver, and suggested an ogre whose nostrils breathed destruction and whose

Hand dealt scourgings and death; but to this boy the name brought only

Sensations of pleasure, the figure it invoked wore a countenance that was all

Gentleness and affection. He called to mind a long succession of loving

Passages between his father and himself, and dwelt fondly upon them, his

Unstinted tears attesting how deep and real was the grief that possessed his

Heart. As the afternoon wasted away, the lad, wearied with his troubles, sunk

Gradually into a tranquil and healing slumber.

After a considerable time — he could not tell how long — his senses struggled

To a half-consciousness, and as he lay with closed eyes vaguely wondering

Where he was and what had been happening, he noted a murmurous sound,