"This is a very dreadful story, mama. Was the wound fatal?"
"Yes. It was a duke who was the victim. The whole was so instantaneous, that no one saw the blow. He pulled the knife from the wound, exclaiming, 'The villain has killed me;' and fell dead at Sir Thomas Fryer's feet."
"That name ought to help us, aunt," said Edward. "I fear we are all very stupid; uncle, can you guess?"
"I think your aunt has described the death of a court favorite, in the time of Charles I."
"If you have, mama," said Mary, "the murderer's name was Felton; was it not?"
"Yes, my dear, you are quite right; now, perhaps, you can entertain us."
"My history," answered Mary, "relates to a very affecting scene. A family group meets for the last time on earth. A father, with deep grief depicted on his regular, handsome, although care-worn features, has a little boy about seven years old on his knee: he seems anxious to impress something of importance on the child's mind, who is listening to his father with his eyes fixed on him. An interesting little girl stands by his side, crying bitterly."
"I think," said Mrs. Macdonald, "if we help him a little, Alfred might name this subject. When we first began this game, he was very anxious to know more of this poor king, who was in prison; since then you have passed on to other reigns, but this incident you cannot forget."
"I will tell you," answered the little boy. "The poor dear little duke of Gloucester said, when his father told him not to be made king when he was dead, 'I will be torn in pieces first.'"
"You have answered quickly, dear child; and I am glad you remember so much."