he will have all England searched, so anxious is he,
madam, to obtain possession of your son."

"Fear not;" said Dorset, "Gloucester must search with great diligence,
indeed, if he be to find the little Duke. But come," he continued, "we
must take to the road at once, lest we be interrupted by foul Richard's
messenger."

'Twas a sad sight for the eye to gaze on, that parting of the Queen and
her little son. As her Majesty clasped the child in her gentle arms,
and pressed him to her heart, the strong love of the mother struggled
with the cold dignity of the Queen, that had been worn to bind down
that ruler of the world--love--and, as is ever the case, love
conquered, and the mother sobbed aloud.

"Richard, my dearest treasure, no matter what may happen to thee,
always remember thy mother and this, her advice," said the Queen, as
her tears fell fast. "Be brave, but gentle, proud, but not haughty,
firm, but not obdurate, generous, but not prodigal, and above all," she
concluded, as she released the Duke from her protecting arms, "forget
not to revenge any wrong that may be inflicted upon any of your family.
That is Heaven's especial favour to the son of a King. Yea, 'tis even
a command."

[Illustration: "Always remember thy mother and this, her advice."]

"But why, good mother, dost thou speak as though I never more might see
thee?" asked the poor child, as he struggled vainly to restrain his
tears, and show his courage.

"Nay, my dear, thou dost not understand my words. I did but mean that
thou shouldst leave me with a full store of advice to help thee through
the world; for no one can foresee what may happen to us ere thou dost
again join us. Of course we trust that all things will be well, but,
in these times, who but a prophet can foresee that which may happen
within the next revolution of the sun."

Then, after bidding their sisters and us all farewell, Dorset and young
Richard made their exit and departure from the Sanctuary, by an
unfrequented way, that they might avoid the danger of being seen by
eyes to which they might be known.

As Dorset placed the boy upon his palfrey the child gave way
completely, and, turning to his mother, with outstretched arms, a world
of sadness in his tear-dimmed eyes, he cried out, like the wail of a
soul but new-condemned to an eternity of woe:--"Oh! mother dear, send
me not from thee. Let me abide with thee and with my sisters; for now
I feel within my bosom here so