the Woodvilles so
openly laboured to supplant. One day, as Marmaduke was loitering in
the courtyard of the Tower, laughing and jesting with his friends, Lord
Montagu, issuing from the king's closet, passed him with a hurried step
and a thoughtful brow. This haughty brother of the Earl of Warwick had
so far attended to the recommendation of the latter, that he had with
some courtesy excused himself to Marmaduke for his language in the
archery-ground, and had subsequently, when seeing him in attendance
on the king, honoured him with a stately nod, or a brief "Good morrow,
young kinsman." But as his eye now rested on Marmaduke, while the group
vailed their bonnets to the powerful courtier, he called him forth, with
a familiar smile he had never before assumed, and drawing him apart, and
leaning on his shoulder, much to the envy of the standers by, he said
caressingly,--

"Dear kinsman Guy--"

"Marmaduke, please you, my lord."

"Dear kinsman Marmaduke, my brother esteems you for your father's sake.
And, sooth to say, the Neviles are not so numerous in court as they
were. Business and state matters have made me see too seldom those whom
I would most affect. Wilt thou ride with me to the More Park? I would
present thee to my brother the archbishop."

"If the king would graciously hold me excused."

"The king, sir! when I--I forgot," said Montagu, checking himself--"oh,
as to that, the king stirs not out to-day! He hath with him a score of
tailors and armourers in high council on the coming festivities. I will
warrant thy release; and here comes Hastings, who shall confirm it."

"Fair my lord!"--as at that moment Hastings emerged from the little
postern that gave egress from the apartments occupied by the alchemist
of the Duchess of Bedford--"wilt thou be pleased, in thy capacity of
chamberlain, to sanction my cousin in a day's absence? I would confer
with him on family matters."

"Certes, a small favour to so deserving a youth. I will see to his
deputy."

"A word with you, Hastings," said Montagu, thoughtfully, and he
drew aside his fellow courtier: "what thinkest thou of this Burgundy
bastard's visit?"

"That it has given a peacock's strut to the popinjay Anthony Woodville."

"Would that were all!" returned Montagu. "But the very moment that
Warwick is negotiating with Louis of France, this interchange of
courtesies with Louis's deadly foe, the Count of Charolois, is out of
season."

"Nay, take it not so grave