Whilst the groom enraged the lower regions of Kray Castle with his account of the malicious feat, John was quite as capable of distinguishing between design and accident, and with fewer words, but deeper meditation, laid up the insult in his mind, never to be forgotten. During the time that the boy, in consequence of this injury, was interdicted from resorting to his book, impatient to be learning something, he turned his thoughts towards blind Williams, who repeated verses and played to him on the harp; which to enjoy, he would sit for hours, with the shade over his bloodshot eyes, sympathizing with old David on the lamentable loss of sight, and enquiring if it was attended by that misery, which his imagination attached to it. It chanced one day, whilst sitting in this attitude by the side of the minstrel, he was solicited for his charity by a worn-out soldier, who had fallen sick upon his way, and had been admitted into the house by the servants for the purpose of relieving him in his distress. John lifted up the shade from off his eyes, to look at him, and the melancholy spectacle, which, through the misty medium of his feeble optics, he imperfectly discerned, struck so hard upon his feeling heart, that he suffered the very keenest pang, that pity could inflict. Food, clothes, medicine, bed, every thing, that could relieve a suffering fellow creature at the point to die, was immediately to be prepared. The soldier’s tale was short; for in the history of his sufferings there was a mournful uniformity: wounds and hard service in unhealthy climates had made him old in the mid-stage of life; poverty and privation had depressed his hardy vigour, and sickness, consequencial of those evils, had at length broken down a gallant spirit, which, under these accumulated visitations, could no longer struggle with its destiny. John heard this sad recital of his woe with sympathizing tears; but when he came to relate how cruelly he had been threatened and dismissed by the young lord of a fine great house in the neighbourhood, (describing Penruth Abbey) whilst begging charity at the door, where he saw the very dogs fed with bread, for want of which he was starving, our heart-struck hero started from his seat, and, stamping vehemently on the floor, exclaimed--Let me but live to bring that Jew-born wretch to shame, and let me die the death, I care not; tis enough!--Then turning to the servants, he said--Take notice; my grandfather, your master, has charity in his heart, and will not suffer this poor man to perish through the want of any thing, that he can give. Let him therefore want for nothing; when you have given him what he ought to have, take him to a well-aired bed in a comfortable room, and send for Mr. Llewellyn to attend upon him. I’ll answer for my orders--The soldier overpowered with gratitude, only murmured out his thanks: blind David sung out loudly--Heaven reward thee, my sweet child! Thou art a true De Lancaster! CHAPTER VII.