ard had passed Pontefract with
impunity, and had reached Doncaster, he flew first to London, to arrange
for its defence; consigned the care of Henry to the Archbishop of
York, mustered a force already quartered in the neighbourhood of the
metropolis, and then marched rapidly back towards Coventry, where he
had left Clarence with seven thousand men; while he despatched new
messengers to Montagu and Northumberland, severely rebuking the former
for his supineness, and ordering him to march in all haste to attack
Edward in the rear. The earl's activity, promptitude, all-provident
generalship, form a mournful contrast to the errors, the pusillanimity,
and the treachery of others, which hitherto, as we have seen, made all
his wisest schemes abortive. Despite Clarence's sullenness, Warwick had
discovered no reason, as yet, to doubt his good faith. The oath he had
taken--not only to Henry in London, but to Warwick at Amboise--had been
the strongest which can bind man to man. If the duke had not gained all
he had hoped, he had still much to lose and much to dread by desertion
to Edward. He had been the loudest in bold assertions when he heard of
the invasion; and above all, Isabel, whose influence over Clarence
at that time the earl overrated, had, at the tidings of so imminent a
danger to her father, forgot all her displeasure and recovered all her
tenderness.

During Warwick's brief absence, Isabel had indeed exerted her utmost
power to repair her former wrongs, and induce Clarence to be faithful to
his oath. Although her inconsistency and irresolution had much weakened
her influence with the duke, for natures like his are governed but
by the ascendancy of a steady and tranquil will, yet still she so far
prevailed, that the duke had despatched to Richard a secret courier,
informing him that he had finally resolved not to desert his
father-in-law.

This letter reached Gloucester as the invaders were on their march to
Coventry, before the strong walls of which the Duke of Clarence lay
encamped. Richard, after some intent and silent reflection, beckoned to
him his familiar Catesby.

"Marmaduke Nevile, whom our scouts seized on his way to Pontefract, is
safe, and in the rear?"

"Yes, my lord; prisoners but encumber us; shall I give orders to the
provost to end his captivity?"

"Ever ready, Catesby!" said the duke, with a fell smile. "No; hark ye,
Clarence vacillates. If he hold firm to Warwick, and the two forces
fight hone