humbly apologized.

"Well, well, let it be; thou hast served us too faithfully to be
quarrelled with, for perchance unintentional irreverence. The imposition
of her child's murder, when he lives and is well, is the coinage of
thine own brain, sir earl, and thou must reconcile it to thine own
conscience. We hold ourselves exempt from all such peculiar mercy, for
we scarce see its wisdom." There was a slight bitterness in Edward's
tone.

"Wisdom, my sovereign liege, deemest thou there is no wisdom in
revenge?" and the brow of the earl grew dark with passion, as he spoke.
"Have I naught to punish, naught to avenge in this foul
traitress--naught, that her black treachery has extended to my son, my
heir, even to his tender years? I would not have her death; no, let her
live and feed on the belief that her example, her counsels have killed
her own child; that had it not been for her, he might have lived, been
prosperous, aye, and happy now. Is there no wisdom in such revenge? and
if there be none, save that which my own heart feels, I could give your
grace another and a better reason for this proceeding."

"Speak it, in St. George's name," replied the king; "of a truth thou art
of most clear conception in all schemes of vengeance. I might have
thought long enough, ere I could have lighted on such as this. What
more?"

"Simply, your grace, that by encouraging a little while the report of
his death, his friends in Scotland will forget that he ever existed, and
make no effort for his rescue; which belief, wild and unfounded as it
is, I imagine supports him in his strenuous determination to live and
die a traitor to your highness. I have no hatred to the boy; nay, an he
would let me, could love and be proud of him, now his mother cannot
cross my path, and would gladly see him devoted, as myself, to the
interests of your grace. Nor do I despair of this; he is very young, and
his character cannot be entirely formed. He will tire in time of dark
and solitary confinement, and gladly accept any conditions I may offer."

"Gives he any proof as yet of this yielding mood?"

"By mine honor, no, your highness; he is firm and steadfast as the ocean
rock."

"Then wherefore thinkest thou he will change in time?"

"Because as yet, my gracious liege, the foul, treacherous principles of
his mother have not ceased to work. An entire cessation of intercourse
between them will show him his mistake at last, and this could never be,
did she