all his schemes
frustrated by sudden acquiescence in the objects of them all, his
voice faltered with real emotion as he gave vent to his gratitude.
But abruptly he checked himself, his brow lowered, and with a bitter
remembrance of his brother's plain, blunt sense of honour, he said,
"Yet, alas! my liege, in all this there is nought to satisfy our
stubborn host."

"By dear Saint George and my father's head!" exclaimed Edward,
reddening, and starting to his feet, "what would the man have?"

"You know," answered the archbishop, "that Warwick's pride is only
roused when he deems his honour harmed. Unhappily, as he thinks, by your
Grace's full consent, he pledged himself to the insurgents of Olney to
the honourable dismissal of the lords of the Woodville race. And unless
this be conceded, I fear me that all else he will reject, and the love
between ye can be but hollow!"

Edward took but three strides across the chamber, and then halted
opposite the archbishop, and lay both hands on his shoulders, as,
looking him full in the face, he said, "Answer me frankly, am I a
prisoner in these towers or not?"

"Not, sire."

"You palter with me, priest. I have been led hither against my will.
I am almost without an armed retinue. I am at the earl's mercy. This
chamber might be my grave, and this couch my bed of death."

"Holy Mother! Can you think so of Warwick? Sire, you freeze my blood."

"Well, then, if I refuse to satisfy Warwick's pride, and disdain to give
up loyal servants to rebel insolence, what will Warwick do? Speak out,
archbishop."

"I fear me, sire, that he will resign all office, whether of peace or
war. I fear me that the goodly army now at sleep within and around these
walls will vanish into air, and that your Highness will stand alone
amidst new men, and against the disaffection of the whole land!"

Edward's firm hand trembled. The prelate continued, with a dry, caustic
smile,--

"Sire, Sir Anthony Woodville, now Lord Rivers, has relieved you of
all embarrassment; no doubt, my Lord Dorset and his kinsmen will be
chevaliers enough to do the same. The Duchess of Bedford will but
suit the decorous usage to retire a while into privacy, to mourn her
widowhood. And when a year is told, if these noble persons reappear at
court, your word and the earl's will at least have been kept."

"I understand thee," said the king, half laughing; "but I have my pride
as well as Warwick. To concede this point is to humble