Many tears were shed, and caresses lavished upon the orphan.  The ladies asked his destination, and on hearing that he was to be taken to the Prince’s court at Bordeaux, Agnes said, “We, too, are bound to the Prince’s court.  I am to journey thither with Fulk.  Were it not better for Arthur to travel with us?  Most carefully would we guard him.  It would spare him many a hardship, for which he is scarce old enough; and his company would be a solace, almost a protection to me.  My pretty playfellow, will you be my travelling companion?”

“I would go with you, Cousin Agnes, for you are kind and gentle, and I love you well; but a brave Knight’s son must learn to rough it; and besides, I would not go with Sir Fulk, your brother, for he is a false and cruel Knight, who persecuted my blessed mother to the very death.”

“Can this be?  O speak, Eustace!” said Agnes.  “What means the boy?  Hath Fulk shown himself other than a loving kinsman?”

The Baroness, who understood her step-son’s character better than did his young sister, and who was informed of the old enmity between the two houses, felt considerable anxiety as to what they were now to hear; when Eustace, beginning, “Ah, Lady, I grieve twice in the day to sadden your heart; yet since so much has been said, it were best to relate the whole truth,” proceeded to tell what had passed respecting the wardship of young Arthur.  Agnes’s eyes filled with burning tears of indignation.  “O dear Lady Mother!” cried she, “take me back to our Convent!  How can I meet my brother!  How conceal my anger and my shame!”

“This is far worse than even I feared,” said Lady Muriel.  “I knew Fulk to be unscrupulous and grasping, but I did not think him capable of such foul oppression.  For you, my sweet Agnes—­would that I could prevail on him to leave you in the safe arms of the cloister—­ but, alas!  I have no right to detain you from a brother’s guardianship.”

“I dreaded this journey much before,” said Agnes; “but now, even my trust in Fulk is gone; I shall see round me no one in whom to place confidence.  Alas! alas!”

“Nay, fair Agnes,” said Eustace, “he will surely be a kind brother to thee—­he cannot be otherwise.”

“How love and trust when there is no esteem?  Oh, Mother, Mother! this is loneliness indeed!  In that strange, courtly throng, who will protect and shelter me?”

“There is an Arm—­” began the Baroness.

“Yes, noble Lady, there is one arm,” eagerly exclaimed Eustace, “that would only deem itself too much honoured if it could be raised in your service.”

“I spoke of no arm of flesh,” said Lady Muriel, reprovingly—­and Eustace hung his head abashed.  “I spake of the Guardian who will never be wanting to the orphan.”

There was a silence, first broken by Eustace.  “One thing there is, that I would fain ask of your goodness,” said he:  “many a false tale, many a foul slander, will be spoken of me, and many may give heed to them; but let that be as it will, they shall not render my heart heavy while I can still believe that you give no ear to them.”