ly,--a mere pastime."

"Hastings, thou knowest better. But thou art no friend of my great
brother."

"Small cause have I to be so," answered Hastings, with a quivering lip.
"To him and your father I owe as deep a curse as ever fell on the heart
of man. I have lived to be above even Lord Warwick's insult. Yet young,
I stand amongst the warriors and peers of England with a crest as haught
and a scutcheon as stainless as the best. I have drunk deep of the
world's pleasures. I command, as I list, the world's gaudy pomps, and I
tell thee, that all my success in life countervails not the agony of the
hour when all the bloom and loveliness of the earth faded into winter,
and the only woman I ever loved was sacrificed to her brother's pride."

The large drops stood on the pale brow of the fortunate noble as he thus
spoke, and his hollow voice affected even the worldly Montagu.

"Tush, Hastings!" said Montagu, kindly; "these are but a young man's
idle memories. Are we not all fated, in our early years, to love in
vain?--even I married not the maiden I thought the fairest, and held
the dearest. For the rest, bethink thee,--thou wert then but a simple
squire."

"But of as ancient and pure a blood as ever rolled its fiery essence
through a Norman's veins."

"It may be so; but old Houses, when impoverished, are cheaply held. And
thou must confess thou wert then no mate for Katherine. Now, indeed, it
were different; now a Nevile might be proud to call Hastings brother."

"I know it," said Hastings, proudly,--"I know it, lord; and why?
Because I have gold, and land, and the king's love, and can say, as the
Centurion, to my fellow-man, 'Do this, and he doeth it;' and yet I tell
thee, Lord Montagu, that I am less worthy now the love of beauty, the
right hand of fellowship from a noble spirit, than I was then, when--the
simple squire--my heart full of truth and loyalty, with lips that had
never lied, with a soul never polluted by unworthy pleasures or mean
intrigues, I felt that Katherine Nevile should never blush to own her
fere and plighted lord in William de Hastings. Let this pass, let it
pass! You call me no friend to Warwick. True! but I am a friend to
the king he has served, and the land of my birth to which he has given
peace; and therefore, not till Warwick desert Edward, not till he wake
the land again to broil and strife, will I mingle in the plots of those
who seek his downfall. If in my office and stated rank I am com