A few steps brought him to a spacious apartment; he entered, seated the King with more hurry than ceremony, then ran toward a young man who sat at a writing-table in front of a generous fire of logs.

“Embrace me, Hugh,” he cried, “and say thou’rt glad I am come again! and call our father, for home is not home till I shall touch his hand, and see his face, and hear his voice once more!”

But Hugh only drew back, after betraying a momentary surprise, and bent a grave stare upon the intruder — a stare which indicated somewhat of offended dignity, at first, then changed, in response to some inward thought or purpose, to an expression of marvelling curiosity, mixed with a real or assumed compassion.

Presently he said, in a mild voice —