wine is drained in King Edward's goblet;
King Edward has left his chamber; and Sibyll, entreating her father, but
in vain, to suspend his toil, has kissed the damps from his brow, and
is about to retire to her neighbouring room. She has turned to the
threshold, when, hark! a faint--a distant cry, a woman's shriek, the
noise of a clapping door! The voice--it is the voice of Anne! Sibyll
passed the threshold, she is in the corridor; the winter moon shines
through the open arches, the air is white and cold with frost. Suddenly
the door at the farther end is thrown wide open, a form rushes into the
corridor, it passes Sibyll, halts, turns round. "Oh, Sibyll!" cried the
Lady Anne, in a voice wild with horror, "save me--aid--help! Merciful
Heaven, the king!"

Instinctively, wonderingly, tremblingly, Sibyll drew Anne into the
chamber she had just quitted, and as they gained its shelter, as Anne
sank upon the floor, the gleam of cloth-of-gold flashed through the dim
atmosphere, and Edward, yet in the royal robe in which he had dazzled
all the eyes at his kingly feast, stood within the chamber. His
countenance was agitated with passion, and its clear hues flushed red
with wine. At his entrance Anne sprang from the floor, and rushed to
Warner, who, in dumb bewilderment, had suspended his task, and stood
before the Eureka, from which steamed and rushed the dark, rapid smoke,
while round and round, labouring and groaning, rolled its fairy wheels.
[The gentle reader will doubtless bear in mind that Master Warner's
complicated model had but little resemblance to the models of the
steam-engine in our own day, and that it was usually connected with
other contrivances, for the better display of the principle it was
intended to illustrate.]

"Sir," cried Anne, clinging to him convulsively, "you are a father; by
your child's soul, protect Lord Warwick's daughter!"

Roused from his abstraction by this appeal, the poor scholar wound
his arm round the form thus clinging to him, and raising his head with
dignity, replied, "Thy name, youth, and sex protect thee!"

"Unhand that lady, vile sorcerer," exclaimed the king, "I am her
protector. Come, Anne, sweet Anne, fair lady, thou mistakest,--come!" he
whispered. "Give not to these low natures matter for guesses that do but
shame thee. Let thy king and cousin lead thee back to thy sweet rest."

He sought, though gently, to loosen the arms that wound themselves
round the old man; but Anne, no