s had quitted the
apartment, till Percy first spoke to him in a whisper, then almost shook
him, and led him out of the room. 'I am sent for you,' he said, in a
much shaken voice; 'your king says you can be of use.' Then tightening
his grasp with the force of intense grief, 'Oh, what a day! what a day!
My father! my father! I never knew mine own father! But he has been all
to Harry and to me! Oh, woe worth the day!' And dropping into a window-
seat, he covered his face with his hands, and gave way to his grief:
pointing, however, to the council-room, where Malcolm found Bedford
writing at the table, King James, and a few others, engaged in the same
manner.

A few words from James informed him (or would have done so if he could
have understood) that the Duke of Bedford, on whom at that terrible
moment the weight of two kingdoms and of the war had descended, could not
pause to rest, or to grieve, till letters and orders had been sent to the
council in England, and to every garrison, every ally in France, to guard
against any sudden panic, or faltering in friendship to England and her
infant heir. Warwick and Salisbury were already riding post haste to
take charge of the army; Robsart was gone to the Queen, Exeter to the
Duke of Burgundy; and as the clergy were all engaged with the tendance of
the royal corpse, there was scarcely any one to lessen the Duke's toil.
James, knowing Malcolm's pen to be ready, had sent for him to assist in
copying the brief scrolls, addressed to each captain of a fortress or
town, announcing the father's death, and commanding him to do his duty to
the son--King Harry VI. Each was then to be signed by the Duke, and
despatched by men-at-arms, who waited for the purpose.

Like men stunned, the half-dozen who sat at the council-table worked on,
never daring to glance at the empty chair at the upper end. The only
words that passed were occasional inquiries of, and orders from, Bedford;
and these he spoke with a strange alertness and metallic ring in his
voice, as though the words were uttered by mechanism; yet in themselves
they were as clear and judicious as possible, as if coming from a mind
wound up exclusively to the one necessary object; and the face--though
flushed at first, and gradually growing paler, with knitted brows and
compressed lips--betrayed no sign of emotion.

Hours passed: he wrote, he ordered, he signed, he sealed; he mentioned
name after name, of place and officer, nev