known pride and cruel disposition, had it ever been in his power, in all likelihood, he would have fulfilled.

The arrival of this petty sovereign prince, and his train of knights, answered a double purpose. It served to convince the nation that, by the mother's side, at least, the new-made queen came of a princely race; and, to enforce obedience, should any opposition occur, either from the nobles or citizens, to her being recognized as queen-consort of the realm, Edward regularly paid the count for his attendance, and the knights who accompanied him, as well, as he would have done any other noble or gentleman engaged in his service-the manners of the age permitting such mercenary arrangements.

Fortunately all passed over without opposition. The queen was solemnly crowned on the day appointed, at Westminster, in the presence of the principal nobility of the realm. All, for the present, seemed fair; but the storm was gradually gathering in the distance, whose bursting was to drive her husband from his throne, and Elizabelh to claim sanctuary in the precincts of the very church where she had been anointed Queen-consort of England.

CHAPTER II.

"Heard ye the din of battle bray ?
Lance to lance and horse to horse;

Long years of havoc urge their destined course;
And thus the kindred squadrons mow their way."

GRAY.

THE birth of a daughter, who was born at Westminster in 1466, and who was christened Elizabeth, after her mother, consolidated the influence of the queen over the heart of Edward. Proud of having given an heiress to the throne, her imprudence knew no

bounds-she even ventured to offend the all-powerful Earl of Warwick, who had already so many causes of complaint against her, by marrying her eldest son, by Sir John Grey, to the heiress of the Duke of Exeter, although the lady had long been affianced to the nephew of the man who had placed the crown upon her husband's brow. This anxious desire to enrich her family rendered the queen extremely unpopular in England, where the name of Woodville was universally execrated.

But the crowning folly of all was the refusal of the king's assent to the marriage of his brother Clarence with the daughter of the Earl of Warwick-the Lady Isabel, to whom Edward himself, there is every reason to suppose, at one time had been affianced.

The storm which had so long been gathering at a distance at last broke out in Yorkshire, where the people rose under the command of Robin of Ridsdale-a name which concealed an exiled noble devoted to the Lancastrian cause.

Warwick and Clarence withdrew themselves from court, and finally appeared in arms against the king, whose troops they defeated at Edgecote.

The day after the battle, a couple of fugitives were making their way through the Forest of Dean. The elder, a man about sixty, still retained marks of great personal beauty. His companion, who was in the first pride of manhood, strongly resembled him. They were father and son-Sir Richard Woodville, high treasurer of England, father of the queen, and her eldest brother, John.

"What is to be done?" demanded the old man, who for the last hour had been urging his jaded steed to proceed; "our pursuers gain upon us, and we have little mercy to expect if we fall into their hands."

"Take my steed, father, and fly!" said the young man; "he is still fresh enough to bear you from the reach of your enemies."

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No, John-no!" replied the knight; "little matters where the gnarled oak falls, so the green sapling escapes the shock.

It has arrived as I predicted. Your mother's pride and sister's weakness have raised us foes in every county and shire of England."

"Tut!" interrupted his parent; "what will not men dare to do, with arms in their hands and evil passions in their hearts? Warwick has never forgiven the disappointment of his ambitious hopes of seeing his daughter Isabel Queen of England; Clarence, his brother's unwise refusal of his marriage-a marriage," added the speaker," that might have healed all, had Elizabeth and her mother but yielded to it."

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Perhaps it is not too late?" observed his son.

The old knight shook his head, and once more entreated the young man to leave him to his fate, and pursue his path alone. This affectionate contest lasted for some time; vainly the father endeavored to prevail upon his son to abandon him, and seek his own safety in flight. The young man's efforts to induce his parent to take the only horse which remained fit for service, were equally fruitless; neither would yield to the devotion of the other.

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"Be it so," said Sir Richard, who saw that all he could urge was useless; we will share the same fate, be it good or ill, together!”

The younger traveller dismounted, and the two fugitives pursued their path through the tangled mass of the wood of Dean alone. Gradually they left the beaten track, and struck into the more obscure part of the forest, known only to the woodcutter or huntsman, who sometimes penetrated into their wild recesses in scarch of game. So thick was the shade around them that the rays of the sun-and it was now near mid-day-scarcely made their way through the foliage, which already showed the first tints of approaching autumn. Once or twice they were startled by a rustling near them. On such occasions John Woodville drew his sword and placed himself on the defensive, ready to shield his almost fainting parent. He quickly discovered, however, that the alarm had been occasioned by some deer which their foot

steps had disturbed from its lair, or wild fox returning from its predatory excursions.

After pursuing their way for several hours, they came to a more open ground, which had evidently been cleared by the charcoal-burners, hundreds of whom followed their lonely occupation in the Forest of Dean. A pile of wood, ready for kindling, was heaped together. As they approached, the baying of a hound was heard at a distance. Sir Richard Woodville trembled: he recognized the deep cry of the bloodhound. "They are upon our track!" he said.

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"Nay, courage, father!" replied the young man ; " perhaps it is but some hunter chasing the wild deer through the forest." The old man shook his head despondingly: his practised ear was not to be deceived.

Whilst they were debating how to act, a rough, stalwart-looking young fellow, who from his dress evidently followed the occupation of a woodcutter, emerged from a narrow path which led yet deeper into the forest. He carried his axe and wallet on his shoulder, and whistled merrily as he approached the fugitives.

"Good day, my masters!" he said; "have you lost your way? It is not often that we meet in the Forest of Dean with travellers of your quality."

"What know you of our quality?" demanded the younger. "I can only guess: though born in the forest, I was not bred in it, but was reared in London, where I have seen lords and ladies, princes and knights, flash it in their silken bravery. I remember," he added, "the coronation of our young queen, and the stately noble who rode with a father's pride beside her litter, as she passed up Eastcheap from the Tower, to be crowned."

From the glance which accompanied the words there could be little doubt but Sir Richard Woodville, at least, was recognized. His son, with the impetuosity of his age and character, drew his sword, and was about to attack the intruder hand to hand, but his father restrained him.

"It would be useless, John," he said.

"Quite," said the man, who had overheard the remark; "you are broken with fatigue, I am fresh and active-you are fasting, I have feasted. 'Tis true," he added, "that you have a sword, but my faithful axe is not a bad weapon."

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Stepping back, he disengaged the implement of his trade from the straps of his knapsack, where it was slung, and wielded it with a dexterity which proved how familiar it was to his hand. Come," he continued, "let there be peace between us. Men whose intentions are ill seldom prate: had I designed you harm, what was there to prevent me slaying ye both? I could have taken your heads in my satchel to Northampton, where the Earl of Warwick and his dupe, the boy Clarence, would have counted down their weight in gold at the sight of them; but I have no such thoughts. Say! will you trust me?"

There was much reason in what the fellow urged; but the frank manner in which it was spoken weighed with the wanderers more than the words themselves. Their case was desperate.

Armed as he was, to attack him was a hopeless case; avoid him they could not; if he intended treachery, they were completely in his power.

"It is best," said the old knight, with a sigh, "to trust him." "You are right," said the woodcutter.

"Gould! Gould! sure," observed the younger of the fugitives, "I have heard that name before-I am certain of it."

"Not unlikely, master."

"Where?"

"In the household of her highness the queen. Not that I ever had the honor of serving her good grace myself, but my uncle, Adam Gould, is one of the ushers of her chamber."

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"I do remember!" exclaimed Sir Richard; a frank and loyal servitor."

"A false knave!" said the young man, passionately, "whom I would brain with as little remorse as the cub of the wolf, were it not for his daughter, the pretty Alice."