pirits of his rivals, who met their fate at Pomfret,
served also, as I verily believe Richard had foreplanned it should, to
postpone the discussion of the young King's coronation.

"Richard hath pulled harder on the line," said Harleston, when we had
heard the complement of the news--namely, that Lord Stanley had been
wounded, by accident, during the arrest of Hastings. "Another obstacle
hath been removed from the course of his heavy ship and cargo. The
line still bears the strain. Wait with patience and expectancy: he'll
pull again; observe the result."

CHAPTER XIX

A MESSAGE IS SENT TO RICHMOND

Harlston's statement, that the line of Richard's success must part, and
that he could not gain the ship's cargo, proved to be wrong.
Gloucester had met with success where'er he turned.

Hastings' death had been received with but grumblings of discontent and
not, as we had hoped, with clamorous outbursts of bloody insurrection.

Stanley, for remonstrating with Gloucester, in an attempt to save his
friend, Hastings, from his fate, was now confined within the Tower's
walls. The Archbishop of York and the Bishop of Ely here kept him
company.

Whisperings there now were of the coronation of a different King from
Edward. Richard's full hand was now being shown to the whole broad
world. Most of those which lived at court had seen it, ere this last
card was laid upon the board.

Rumours to the effect that young Edward's father's marriage with the
Lady Grey, the young King's mother, had been illegal now had a noble
circulation. 'Twas whispered in the court, and gossipped o'er. 'Twas
the sole story on the tradesman's lips. The urchin in the street had
heard it told, and each ear did either credit or despise the tale, that
Edward, the father of our present King, had been united by the bonds of
wedlock with the Lady Eleanor Talbot, daughter of the Earl of
Shrewsbury, previous to his union with the Lady Grey. This tale, 'tis
scarce necessary for me to say, was but one of many similar inventions
of Richard to throw discredit on the rightful Sovereign, and thus help
him to reach that awful height to which he was determined to climb.

As my friend and I were one day passing the great Church of St. Paul,
we were attracted by a surging crowd of people trying, as best they
might, to see some poor soul who had just finished doing penance in a
sheet of white, and who now stood, in pitiful abashment, upon the
church's st