But he had attracted attention in one quarter at least.  On the floor, by the arm-chair, lay a dog, a huge tawny mastiff, with body and limbs almost as big as a lion’s; and this great creature rose majestically and slowly, and marched toward the little fellow with a heavy step.

Then the person in the chair spoke.  “Dougal,” he called, “come back, sir.”

But there was no more fear in little Lord Fauntleroy’s heart than there was unkindness—­he had been a brave little fellow all his life.  He put his hand on the big dog’s collar in the most natural way in the world, and they strayed forward together, Dougal sniffing as he went.

And then the Earl looked up.  What Cedric saw was a large old man with shaggy white hair and eyebrows, and a nose like an eagle’s beak between his deep, fierce eyes.  What the Earl saw was a graceful, childish figure in a black velvet suit, with a lace collar, and with love-locks waving about the handsome, manly little face, whose eyes met his with a look of innocent good-fellowship.  If the Castle was like the palace in a fairy story, it must be owned that little Lord Fauntleroy was himself rather like a small copy of the fairy prince, though he was not at all aware of the fact, and perhaps was rather a sturdy young model of a fairy.  But there was a sudden glow of triumph and exultation in the fiery old Earl’s heart as he saw what a strong, beautiful boy this grandson was, and how unhesitatingly he looked up as he stood with his hand on the big dog’s neck.  It pleased the grim old nobleman that the child should show no shyness or fear, either of the dog or of himself.

Cedric looked at him just as he had looked at the woman at the lodge and at the housekeeper, and came quite close to him.

“Are you the Earl?” he said.  “I’m your grandson, you know, that Mr. Havisham brought.  I’m Lord Fauntleroy.”

He held out his hand because he thought it must be the polite and proper thing to do even with earls.  “I hope you are very well,” he continued, with the utmost friendliness.  “I’m very glad to see you.”

The Earl shook hands with him, with a curious gleam in his eyes; just at first, he was so astonished that he scarcely knew what to say.  He stared at the picturesque little apparition from under his shaggy brows, and took it all in from head to foot.

“Glad to see me, are you?” he said.

“Yes,” answered Lord Fauntleroy, “very.”

There was a chair near him, and he sat down on it; it was a high-backed, rather tall chair, and his feet did not touch the floor when he had settled himself in it, but he seemed to be quite comfortable as he sat there, and regarded his august relative intently but modestly.

“I’ve kept wondering what you would look like,” he remarked.  “I used to lie in my berth in the ship and wonder if you would be anything like my father.”

“Am I?” asked the Earl.

“Well,” Cedric replied, “I was very young when he died, and I may not remember exactly how he looked, but I don’t think you are like him.”