--I
have thought of all things; my mind seems to have traversed worlds since
daybreak! True! all commotion to be successful must have a cause that
men can understand. Nevertheless, you, Montagu--you have a smoother
tongue than I; go to our friends--to those who hate Edward--seek them,
sound them!"

"And name to them Edward's infamy?"

"'S death, dost thou think it? Thou, a Monthermer and Montagu: proclaim
to England the foul insult to the hearth of an English gentleman and
peer! feed every ribald Bourdour with song and roundel of Anne's virgin
shame! how King Edward stole to her room at the dead of night, and wooed
and pressed, and swore, and--God of Heaven, that this hand were on his
throat! No, brother, no! there are some wrongs we may not tell,--tumours
and swellings of the heart which are eased not till blood can flow!"

During this conference between the brothers, Edward, in his palace, was
seized with consternation and dismay on hearing that the Lady Anne could
not be found in her chamber. He sent forthwith to summon Adam Warner to
his presence, and learned from the simple sage, who concealed nothing,
the mode in which Anne had fled from the Tower. The king abruptly
dismissed Adam, after a few hearty curses and vague threats; and awaking
to the necessity of inventing some plausible story, to account to the
wonder of the court for the abrupt disappearance of his guest, he saw
that the person who could best originate and circulate such a tale was
the queen; and he sought her at once, with the resolution to choose his
confidant in the connection most rarely honoured by marital trust in
similar offences. He, however, so softened his narrative as to leave it
but a venial error. He had been indulging over-freely in the wine-cup,
he had walked into the corridor for the refreshing coolness of the air,
he had seen the figure of a female whom he did not recognize; and a
few gallant words, he scarce remembered what, had been misconstrued. On
perceiving whom he had thus addressed, he had sought to soothe the anger
or alarm of the Lady Anne; but still mistaking his intention, she had
hurried into Warner's chamber; he had followed her thither, and now she
had fled the palace. Such was his story, told lightly and laughingly,
but ending with a grave enumeration of the dangers his imprudence had
incurred.

Whatever Elizabeth felt, or however she might interpret the confession,
she acted with her customary discretion; affected,