g of heavy news,
were shown into her presence.

"Uncommon bad news we bring, madam;" I replied; "yet it is such as we
might all have expected, and therefore do I hope that your Majesty may
bear it better than thou couldst have done had it been unexpected."

* * * * *

When we had finished the relation of this latest tale of Richard's
vengeance on the faithful to the Queen her Majesty seemed stupefied
with grief. She sat as one who hath just received a heavy blow with
the flat side of a sword,--dazed and benumbed and still incapable of
raising protest against the causer of the pain. Then with her hand she
feebly tried to brush away from before her eyes some cloud that did
obstruct her vision. A look of hopeless resignation then settled on
her features, and two silent tears ran slowly down her cheeks. A heavy
sigh, like the parting of a soul from its earthy home and comrade,
escaped her, and she asked in a voice in which was nothing but the tone
of resigned indifference:--"When do they die?"

"This day, madam; even now."

"I had scarce looked for such expediency," she remarked, without the
least emotion.

"What do ye think Gloucester's intentions may be with regard to my son,
the King?" she asked in that unnatural voice.

"Oh, madam," I replied, glad at last to be able to tell her something
not unhappy, "even now the Counsellors are met within the Tower to
decide upon the coronation of his Majesty."

"And doth Lord Hastings there attend?"

"He does, madam."

"And the Protector, I presume?"

"Ay, madam, the Duke of Gloucester seems bent on having his Majesty's
coronation take place at once; and therefore, at least so says report,
he doth attend in person that his presence there may urge the
Counsellors to set an early day for the ceremony; 'For,' say the
Protector's confidants, 'the Duke desires to have the weight of full
responsibility, that now rests upon his shoulders, in a considerable
measure lightened.' But, madam," I added, "it is for thee to judge the
weight of these reports."

"Hastings," said her Majesty, without taking any apparent note of my
remark, "though he doth dislike me much, still, methinks, is loyal to
my son, if for no other reason than for the favours the boy's father
showed him, even against my pleasure."

Then, after sitting silent whilst one might tell an hundred, she spoke
out suddenly, as though she thought aloud:--"Surely his uncle dare not
harm m