Hugh Neville advanced, and touched him on the shoulder. "I am ready, traitor!" he said with a look of proud defiance; "do your worst!"

A murmur of pity and admiration broke from the citizens as, with a gallant air, John Woodville advanced to the block, still reeking with the blood of his venerable father. Casting a stern glance upon the executioner, he said:

"Do not strike till I pronounce the name of Jesus."

"I understand," replied the man.

"Then strike, and strike but once.

Thou wilt find withal, in the lining of my doublet, to requite thee."

The eyes of the ruffian glistened at the words, for, from the disordered state of the prisoner's dress, he thought that the soldiers who had taken him had stripped him of all worth plundering.

For a few minutes the brother of Elizabeth-who was one of the handsomest men and most accomplished knights in England -remained absorbed in prayer. When he had finished, he

twice kissed the block, red with the blood of his father.

At this moment the window of the town-hall was thrown open, and Warwick and Clarence appeared upon the balcony. Intelligence had been brought them that Hugh Neville had permitted the prisoner to confess to a strange friar. The earl gesticulated vehemently—his intention was to order the priest's arrest-to the knight. It was to urge the exccution, or chide him for his delay.

"Your prayer is made," he brutally observed, "and the axe is ready."

With a look of proud defiance, John Woodville laid his head upon the block, and pronounced the sacred name. In an instant the axe fell; and father and son soon slept side by side in the market-place of Northampton.

"Well struck!" said Sir Hugh, at the same time tossing a purse to the executioner; "you have done your work like an expert craftsman.”

The fellow grinned as he picked up the gold. The purse con

tained forty marks, twenty for each head-the usual price for decapitating a noble.

As the knight made his way through the crowd, which was silently dispersing, he encountered Warwick.

"All is over, my lord," he said, saluting the earl.

"And the priest ?"

"What priest, my lord?" demanded his kinsman.

"What priest!" repeated the King-maker; "why, the mendicant whom, like an idiot, you permitted to confess the dead man. Where is he?"

"Gone."

Warwick hastily approached the block, where the body was still lying, near to the severed head. The executioner, mindful of the last words of the unhappy man, was busily rifling his doublet, in the lining of which he found about twenty broad pieces concealed.

"Hast thou found a chain and device, knave?" he demanded. "No, my lord."

"Lie to me," exclaimed the earl, furiously, "and I will have thee lashed like a hound through the market-place. Speak truly, and I will double the price of blood thou hast received."

With a deep oath the executioner swore that he had found no chain. Warwick ordered him to be searched. Nothing was discovered upon him but the gold he had received. Strict orders were issued to search for the friar through the town; but John Gould was nowhere to be found.

CHAPTER IV.

"Friends are like shadows, seen but in sunshine."

COURT OF OLD FRITZ.

DURING the civil wars which disturbed the reign of Edward IV., the citizens of London remained faithful to the house of York. His joyous court, and the profuse habits of luxury which he introduced and encouraged, made him a great party in the City. Warwick's stronghold, on the contrary, was in the affection of the people of the north, where his vast possessions gave hi'n great influence, which was still further heightened by the circumstance of his brother being Archbishop of York-a position which, in the commencement of the fifteenth century, might almost rival in power and dignity with the crown.

Although Clarence, Warwick, and the discontented barons had withdrawn from court, Edward was far from suspecting that they would push their treason to the culpable lengths of open rebellion. News then travelled but slowly: the battle of Edgecote had been fought and lost, and the insurgents had advanced as far as Northampton before even a rumor of their proceedings reached the king.

The queen was seated in her privy chamber, attended only by her favorite tirewoman, Alice, when her mother, Jaquetta, the Duchess Dowager of Bedford, and wife, or rather widow, of Richard Woodville, entered the apartment. As we have before had occasion to observe, she was one of the most clear-headed women of the age-a consummate politician, at an epoch when the whole art and mystery of government might be summed up in one word—“ intrigue."

Elizabeth saw, by the flush on her mother's brow, that something had occurred to alarm or annoy her. With a smile she

dismissed the pretty Alice, who was braiding her long golden hair under a linen coif, preparatory to her retiring to rest.

"You would speak with me, mother?" she said, as soon as they were alone.

"Ay, daughter," replied the old Duchess; "it is time that I did speak, for the star of our house is on the wane."

The queen replied only by a look of surprise.

"Edward is no longer the bold and hardy soldier," she continued, "but hath sunk into a silken minion-a mere bacchanal of the cup and kiss-occupied with pleasure, drunk in its dreams -whilst the crown totters on his brow."

The countenance of Elizabeth turned deadly pale. With all her faults—and, as a queen, they were many-she was devotedly attached to her husband.

"Surely you

"What mean you, mother?" she exclaimed. forget that my father and brother are both in the north—they will soon check the hot folly of Warwick and the mad-headed Clarence."

"Blind confidence!" said the duchess; "neither my son nor husband are fit to contend with the fiery earl, with whom to resolve and act are one. I know him but too well!"

"Has any news arrived ?"

"None."

"No news, they say, is good news,” observed her daughter. "A proverb," replied the impetuous woman, "for idiots to rely on. In politics, as in nature, Elizabeth, inaction is but the sullen pause which precedes the storm. Edward must be roused from his enervating dreams of pleasure-exchange the wine-cup for the casque, the sceptre for the sword. This progress into Norfolk must be postponed."

"Postponed !" repeated Elizabeth, with surprise; "by whom?" "By you!" answered her mother, somewhat more calmly; "you have not been twice a wife and have yet to learn the arts by which women wind that pliant thing, a husband, and mould him at their will. His fears must be aroused-his pride alarmed; danger"

the

The further words of the speaker were cut short by the sudden appearance of Alice, who rushed into the apartment, followed by a page. The poor girl was breathless with agitation and terror; the violence of her emotion deprived her of the power of explaining the cause of her unceremonious appearance in the presence of her royal mistress. All she could do was to reach the chair on which the queen was seated, where she fell upon her knees, and, fixing her tearful eyes upon Elizabeth, sobbed:

"Mercy-mercy!"

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Now, minion!" said the angry duchess; " is it thus the presence of her

grace ?"

"Save him-save him!" half shrieked the girl. "Save!-who?"

you enter

Twice did the fair girl essay to speak, but emotion choked her utterance; and she remained, with her eloquent eyes fixed imploringly on the countenance of Elizabeth, like some speechless cherub at the seat of mercy.

"What does she mean?" demanded the duchess, haughtily. "The token!" whispered the page.

As if recalled to herself by the words, Alice drew from her bosom the chain and enamelled rose, and presented them to her mistress. Both the queen and her mother recognized the device: it was an heirloom which the latter had inherited as widow of the great Duke of Bedford.

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'My son! my son!"

My brother!" faintly added her daughter, with a dreadful foreboding of what had occurred.

The Duchess of Bedford was the first to recover her selfpossession. With her, pride and ambition had long weakened, if not destroyed, the gentler feelings of her sex—her heart and nerves were both of iron. Approaching Walter Gascoigne, the page, whom respect kept at the entrance of the queen's chamber, she said:

"You, sir, at least, appear to have retained your senses. Explain this folly of her grace's tirewoman.”

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Easily, madam," replied the youth. "John Gould, the