Duke’s eyes filled with tears, his lips began to quiver; the thought of Mar’s loneliness and a vague sense of unkindness and danger around him went to the child’s heart. The effect of Duke’s emotion on his two parents was very different. Letitia gave her son a look of exasperation, as if she would have liked to strike him; but John’s countenance melted, and his hand unconsciously went over with a caress on the boy’s shoulder. John’s obtuse mind had taken what he heard _au pied de la lettre_, and the idea that “the little boy” might after all be an imposter, and his own rights intact, had inflamed his mind. But he had no unkindly feeling to little Mar, and the tears in Duke’s eyes were not only a reproach to his father, but melted at once the untimely, artificial frost in John’s heart. “God forgive me,” he said, “I didn’t think of the poor child at all. I was thinking only---- Poor little boy! Duke, my fine fellow, you’re right to stand up for him. You make me ashamed of myself. We’ll do what we can to make it up to the poor little fellow, Duke!” “Yes, father!” cried Duke, putting his hand into John’s hand. Letitia looked from one to the other more exasperated than ever. Her lip curled, in spite of herself, over her set teeth like the snarl of a dog. Had there been a thunderbolt handy and within her reach, how unhesitatingly she would have aimed it at those two fools! “I think you’d better go and comfort your friend,” she said. “Take care of him, Duke, he may be a good friend to you another time, for you’re nobody, don’t you know, and he is Lord Frogmore. For goodness sake, John, send the boy off and lock the door after him. I’ve got a hundred things to say.” John did as he was told, with the clouds closing over his face again. He had fired his shot, so to speak, and having failed had nothing more on his side to suggest. “It is a little difficult,” said Letitia, “to know where to have you, when one moment you are ready to take on trust a mad-woman’s denial of a truth that is as well known as the Prince of Wales--and the next are shedding tears over the poor little boy.” “I don’t see why one might not do both,” said John. “No; consistency doesn’t matter much, does it? But putting sentiment aside, I should like to know what’s going to be done.” “I haven’t heard much--how could I,” said John. “There’s no will but one made before the child was born--leaving the mother guardian--of course, if she’s mad, as you say, she can’t be that now, I suppose.” “What does the doctor say?”