gh I was standing just behind the Duke.

"When did she go?" asked Richard.

I could not hear what Hastings answered.

"And took the little Duke along?" cried the Prince, in a voice that
plainly showed his annoyance. "Now by Holy Paul!" he continued, "this
is indeed too much. Her Majesty doth forget herself."

"What is it, uncle, that my mother does forget?" asked the young King,
who had overheard this last remark. He looked Richard firmly in the
eye as he spake and held his head so high and spoke with such a dignity
as had proclaimed him a King right royal, even had he been dressed in
the garb of a rag monger.

"Ah, your Majesty, thy mother, I am sad to say, hath not stayed to
greet her son and King; when I said she had forgot herself I meant to
say that she had forgot her duty, which was to stay and welcome thee,
after thy long absence from her sight. And besides not being near
herself, which were in itself strange, she hath taken with her all of
thy dear sisters, and his Grace of York, thy brother."

"No doubt my mother had good cause for her act, and I do not wish to
hear her criticized," said Edward, with great heat. "But uncle," he
asked, in a more gentle tone, when he saw the look of pain on
Gloucester's face, "whither hath she gone?"

"To the Sanctuary over yonder, so my Lord of Hastings tells me."

"But why should she take Sanctuary, as though this were a time of war
and bloodshed?"

"Nay, that I cannot tell your Majesty. 'Twas this strange act that
made me to say--more in surprise than with premeditation--that thy
Royal mother had forgot herself; for which offense I crave my master's
pardon," said Richard with prodigious meekness. He stood with
uncovered head before the little King and looked, so to perfection, the
saint which thinks he hath transgressed, and humbly prays for pardon,
that not one there--besides some few who knew the man--but thought him
the meekest soul in England.

"Indeed, mine uncle, I meant not to be cross with thee; when I spoke I
knew not the hurt that my words did carry to thee; and besides, now
that I understand the matter, I wonder not that thou didst express thy
surprise. Indeed 'tis strange that my mother so should flee to
Sanctuary, as though her son were to be considered as her enemy."

This, no doubt, was the object Gloucester had aimed at when he sued so
meekly for his pardon. He desired to win the King over to his side,
and make him to believe that 'twas fr