Sometimes in secret he actually found himself wishing that his own past life had been a better one, and that there had been less in it that this pure, childish heart would shrink from if it knew the truth.  It was not agreeable to think how the beautiful, innocent face would look if its owner should be made by any chance to understand that his grandfather had been called for many a year “the wicked Earl of Dorincourt.”  The thought even made him feel a trifle nervous.  He did not wish the boy to find it out.  Sometimes in this new interest he forgot his gout, and after a while his doctor was surprised to find his noble patient’s health growing better than he had expected it ever would be again.  Perhaps the Earl grew better because the time did not pass so slowly for him, and he had something to think of beside his pains and infirmities.

One fine morning, people were amazed to see little Lord Fauntleroy riding his pony with another companion than Wilkins.  This new companion rode a tall, powerful gray horse, and was no other than the Earl himself.  It was, in fact, Fauntleroy who had suggested this plan.  As he had been on the point of mounting his pony, he had said rather wistfully to his grandfather: 

“I wish you were going with me.  When I go away I feel lonely because you are left all by yourself in such a big castle.  I wish you could ride too.”

And the greatest excitement had been aroused in the stables a few minutes later by the arrival of an order that Selim was to be saddled for the Earl.  After that, Selim was saddled almost every day; and the people became accustomed to the sight of the tall gray horse carrying the tall gray old man, with his handsome, fierce, eagle face, by the side of the brown pony which bore little Lord Fauntleroy.  And in their rides together through the green lanes and pretty country roads, the two riders became more intimate than ever.  And gradually the old man heard a great deal about “Dearest” and her life.  As Fauntleroy trotted by the big horse he chatted gayly.  There could not well have been a brighter little comrade, his nature was so happy.  It was he who talked the most.  The Earl often was silent, listening and watching the joyous, glowing face.  Sometimes he would tell his young companion to set the pony off at a gallop, and when the little fellow dashed off, sitting so straight and fearless, he would watch him with a gleam of pride and pleasure in his eyes; and when, after such a dash, Fauntleroy came back waving his cap with a laughing shout, he always felt that he and his grandfather were very good friends indeed.

One thing that the Earl discovered was that his son’s wife did not lead an idle life.  It was not long before he learned that the poor people knew her very well indeed.  When there was sickness or sorrow or poverty in any house, the little brougham often stood before the door.

“Do you know,” said Fauntleroy once, “they all say, ‘God bless you!’ when they see her, and the children are glad.  There are some who go to her house to be taught to sew.  She says she feels so rich now that she wants to help the poor ones.”