So ignominious an end after such worthy service was, however, prevented by the personal interference of the old Prince, who, from his private resources, paid off the most pressing creditors.  To the last, the old Prince received him as a friend, and listened to his counsel.  Thyma was ever in hopes that some change in the balance of parties would give him his opportunity.  When the young Prince succeeded, he was clever enough to see that the presence of such men about his Court gave it a stability, and he, too, invited Thyma to tender his advice.  The Baron’s hopes now rose higher than ever, but again he was disappointed.

The new Prince, himself incapable, disliked and distrusted talent.  The years passed, and the Baron obtained no appointment.  Still he strained his resources to the utmost to visit the Court as often as possible; still he believed that sooner or later a turn of the wheel would elevate him.

There had existed between the houses of Thyma and Aquila the bond of hearth-friendship; the gauntlets, hoofs, and rings were preserved by both, and the usual presents passed thrice a year, at midsummer, Christmas, and Lady-day.  Not much personal intercourse had taken place, however, for some years, until Felix was attracted by the beauty of the Lady Aurora.  Proud, showy, and pushing, Thyma could not understand the feelings which led his hearth-friend to retire from the arena and busy himself with cherries and water-wheels.  On the other hand, Constans rather looked with quiet derision on the ostentation of the other.  Thus there was a certain distance, as it were, between them.

Baron Thyma could not, of course, be ignorant of the attachment between his daughter and Felix; yet as much as possible he ignored it.  He never referred to Felix; if his name was incidentally mentioned, he remained silent.  The truth was, he looked higher for Lady Aurora.  He could not in courtesy discourage even in the faintest manner the visits of his friend’s son; the knightly laws of honour would have forbidden so mean a course.  Nor would his conscience permit him to do so, remembering the old days when he and the Baron were glad companions together, and how the Baron Aquila was the first to lead troops to his assistance in the gipsy war.  Still, he tacitly disapproved; he did not encourage.

Felix felt that he was not altogether welcome; he recognised the sense of restraint that prevailed when he was present.  It deeply hurt his pride, and nothing but his love for Aurora could have enabled him to bear up against it.  The galling part of it was that he could not in his secret heart condemn the father for evidently desiring a better alliance for his child.  This was the strongest of the motives that had determined him to seek the unknown.

If anything, the Baron would have preferred Oliver as a suitor for his daughter; he sympathized with Oliver’s fiery spirit, and admired his feats of strength and dexterity with sword and spear.  He had always welcomed Oliver heartily, and paid him every attention.  This, to do Oliver justice, was one reason why he determined to accompany his brother, thinking that if he was there he could occupy attention, and thus enable Felix to have more opportunity to speak with Aurora.