“It is the first time the Atheling has condescended to upbraid his page with the bounty of his royal brother, the generous Athelstane, whom may heaven long preserve and bless.”

“It is good policy, methinks, for the son of a traitor to speak loudly of his loyalty to the mighty Athelstane,” said Brithric, who, having entered unperceived, was listening to this conversation.

“Nay, Brithric,” said the prince, “Wilfrid could not help his father’s fault; though the remembrance of his crime and punishment ought to restrain him from offering his opinion too boldly, when speaking of the friends of his lord.”

“Let every one be judged by his own deeds,” replied Wilfrid.  “My unfortunate parent offended against the laws of his country, and has suffered the penalty decreed to those who do so by the loss of life and forfeiture of lands.  As a further punishment, I, his only child, who was born the heir of a fair patrimony, am reared in a state of servitude and sorrow, and am doomed not only to mourn my early bereavement of a father’s care and my hard reverse of fortune, but to endure the taunts of those who are unkind enough to reproach me with the sore calamities which, without any fault of mine, have fallen upon my youthful head.”

The voice of Wilfrid failed him as he concluded, and he burst into a flood of tears.

The heart of Prince Edwin smote him for the pain he had inflicted upon his faithful page; but he was too proud to acknowledge his fault.  He could not, however, bear to look upon his tears; so he left him to indulge them in solitude, and, taking the ready arm of Brithric, strolled into the archery ground to amuse himself by shooting at a mark.

His hand was unsteady and his aim uncertain that day, yet Brithric’s voice was louder than ever in praising the skill of the Atheling.  The rest of the royal wards took their cue from the bold flatterer, and addressed to the prince the most extravagant compliments every time his arrow came near the mark, which they all purposely abstained from hitting.

At that moment the pale, sorrowful Wilfrid crossed the ground; but, wishing to escape the attention of the joyous group, he kept at a distance.  The prince, however, observed him, and willing to obliterate the remembrance of his late unkindness, called to him in a lively voice:  “Come hither, Wilfrid,” said he, “and tell me if you think you could send an arrow nearer to yonder mark than I have done.”

“Certainly,” replied Wilfrid, “or I should prove myself but a bad archer.”

The group of youthful flatterers, who surrounded the heir of the throne, smiled contemptuously at the unguarded sincerity of the page in speaking the truth thus openly and plainly to his lord.

“Wilfrid, if we may believe his own testimony, is not only wiser and better than any of the servants of the Atheling,” said Brithric scornfully, “but excels even the royal Atheling himself, in all the exercises of princely skill.”