n Bridge, during
the past night, had been affixed, none knew by whom, the celebrated
proclamation, signed by Warwick and Clarence (drawn up in the bold style
of the earl), announcing their speedy return, containing a brief
and vigorous description of the misrule of the realm, and their
determination to reform all evils and redress all wrongs. [See, for this
proclamation, Ellis's "Original Letters," vol. i., second series,
letter 42.] Though the proclamation named not the restoration of the
Lancastrian line (doubtless from regard for Henry's safety), all men
in the metropolis were already aware of the formidable league between
Margaret and Warwick. Yet, even still, Edward smiled in contempt, for
he had faith in the letter received from Clarence, and felt assured that
the moment the duke and the earl landed, the former would betray
his companion stealthily to the king; so, despite all these exciting
subjects of grave alarm, the nightly banquet at the Tower was never
merrier and more joyous. Hastings left the feast ere it deepened into
revel, and, absorbed in various and profound contemplation, entered his
apartment. He threw himself on a seat, and leaned his face on his hands.

"Oh, no, no!" he muttered; "now, in the hour when true greatness is
most seen, when prince and peer crowd around me for counsel, when noble,
knight, and squire crave permission to march in the troop of which
Hastings is the leader,--now I feel how impossible, how falsely fair,
the dream that I could forget all--all for a life of obscurity, for a
young girl's love! Love! as if I had not felt its delusions to palling!
love, as if I could love again: or, if love--alas, it must be a light
reflected but from memory! And Katherine is free once more!" His eye
fell as he spoke, perhaps in shame and remorse that, feeling thus now,
he had felt so differently when he bade Sibyll smile till his return!

"It is the air of this accursed court which taints our best resolves!"
he murmured, as an apology for himself; but scarcely was the poor excuse
made, than the murmur broke into an exclamation of surprise and joy. A
letter lay before him; he recognized the hand of Katherine. What years
had passed since her writing had met his eye, since the lines that bade
him "farewell, and forget!" Those lines had been blotted with tears,
and these, as he tore open the silk that bound them--these, the trace
of tears, too, was on them! Yet they were but few, and in tremulous
c