Before the king stood an equally picturesque personage, although at first sight you hardly noticed the features or colouring that went to make up the gallant figure of the man.  It was the erect, proud bearing, the vivid life, the eagerness of a high-strung nature, now controlled by the courtesy due to his companion.  His buff coat and crimson sash were like those worn by the boy, and the velvet cap he carried in his hand left uncovered curls as brown; but instead of the childish calm of the boy's hazel eyes, the older man's glance now flashed with the fire of an eagle, now glowed with the exalted enthusiasm of a poet.  It was no wonder that the boy watched him with a look of dog-like adoration that scarcely spared a glance for the king himself.  Young Dick's king stood before him in truth, and his name was not Charles Stuart but Thomas Harrison.