"By my faith, Sir Cyril, you were born under a lucky star. First of all you saved my Lord of Wisbech's daughters; then, as Prince Rupert tells me, you saved him and all on board his ship from being burned; and now a miracle has well-nigh happened in your favour. I see, too, that you have the use of your arm, which the Prince doubted would ever altogether recover."
"More still, Your Majesty," the Prince said. "He had the Plague in August and recovered from it."
"I shall have to keep you about me, Sir Cyril," the King said, "as a sort of amulet to guard me against ill luck."
"I am going to take him to sea first," Prince Rupert broke in, seeing that Cyril was about to disclaim the idea of coming to Court. "I may want him to save my ship again, and I suppose he will be going down to visit his estate till I want him. You have never seen it, have you, Sir Cyril?"
"No, sir; at least not to have any remembrance of it. I naturally long to see Upmead, of which I have heard much from my father. I should have gone down at once, but I thought it my duty to come hither and report myself to you as being ready to sail again as soon as you put to sea."
"Duty first and pleasure afterwards," the King said. "I am afraid that is a little beyond me—eh, Rupert?"
"Very much so, I should say, Cousin Charles," the Prince replied, with a smile. "However, I have no doubt Sir Cyril will not grudge us a few days before he leaves. There are several of the gentlemen who were his comrades on the Henrietta here, and they will be glad to renew their acquaintance with him, knowing, as they all do, that they owe their lives to him."
As Cyril was walking down the High Street, he saw a student coming along whose face seemed familiar to him. He looked hard at him.
"Surely you must be Harry Parton?" he said.
"That is my name, sir; though I cannot recall where I have met you. Yet there seems something familiar in your face, and still more in your voice."