That night he made him a fire in his old loved room in the keep.

He sat beside it; he lighted candles and opened books, and now and then he sat so still before them that he may have thought that he read.

But the books slipped away, and the candles guttered down, and the fire went out.

At last, in the thick darkness, he spread his arms upon the table and bowed his head in them, and his frame shook with a man's slow weeping..