for the false Edward, and against
the honest earl.

Warwick did not, however, apprehend any serious results from the passive
distaste of the trading towns. His martial spirit led him to despise the
least martial part of the population. He knew that the towns would not
rise in arms so long as their charters were respected; and that slow,
undermining hostility which exists only in opinion, his intellect, so
vigorous in immediate dangers, was not far-sighted enough to comprehend.
More direct cause for apprehension would there have been to a suspicious
mind in the demeanour of the earl's colleague in the Protectorate,--the
Duke of Clarence. It was obviously Warwick's policy to satisfy this weak
but ambitious person. The duke was, as before agreed, declared heir
to the vast possessions of the House of York. He was invested with the
Lieutenancy of Ireland, but delayed his departure to his government till
the arrival of the Prince of Wales. The personal honours accorded him in
the mean while were those due to a sovereign; but still the duke's brow
was moody, though, if the earl noticed it, Clarence rallied into seeming
cheerfulness, and reiterated pledges of faith and friendship.

The manner of Isabel to her father was varying and uncertain: at one
time hard and cold; at another, as if in the reaction of secret remorse,
she would throw herself into his arms, and pray him, weepingly, to
forgive her wayward humours. But the curse of the earl's position was
that which he had foreseen before quitting Amboise, and which, more or
less, attends upon those who from whatever cause suddenly desert the
party with which all their associations, whether of fame or friendship,
have been interwoven. His vengeance against one had comprehended many
still dear to him. He was not only separated from his old companions in
arms, but he had driven their most eminent into exile. He stood
alone amongst men whom the habits of an active life had indissolubly
connected, in his mind, with recollections of wrath and wrong. Amidst
that princely company which begirt him, he hailed no familiar face.
Even many of those who most detested Edward (or rather the Woodvilles)
recoiled from so startling a desertion to the Lancastrian foe. It was a
heavy blow to a heart already bruised and sore, when the fiery Raoul de
Fulke, who had so idolized Warwick, that, despite his own high lineage,
he had worn his badge upon his breast, sought him at the dead of night,
and t