swelled with loving pride, although he
still persisted in his design.

"Listen, Edward," he said, speaking very gravely and resolutely.
"It is needful for our joint safety that we be not seen together,
now that we are entering a region of country where we may easily be
recognized, and where watch may be kept for us. Yes, these woods
may be watched, although, as you have said, it is probable they
will watch even more closely the other routes to the coast. But we
have come slowly, toiling along on foot, and there has been ample
time for a mounted messenger to ride back and give the warning to
such of the robbers as are yet here. They know that the twain of us
are travelling together. Wherefore, for the few miles that separate
us now from the kindly shelter of the Priory, it will be better
that we journey alone. This smock and battered hat will protect you
from recognition, the more so when I have blackened your face with
charcoal, as I have means to do, and have hidden away all your
bright curls so that none shall see them. Walk with bent shoulders
and heavy gait, as the aged country folks do, and I warrant none
will guess who you are or molest you. Tonight, when we meet to
laugh at our adventures over the prior's roaring fire, we shall
forget the perils and the weariness of our long tramp."

"But, Paul, I love not this clumsy disguise. It befits not a prince
thus to clothe himself. Wear it yourself, good comrade, for your
peril is as great as mine."

"Nay, Edward, speak not thus idly," said Paul, with unwonted
gravity. "Princes must think not of themselves alone, but of the
nation's weal. Edward, listen. If harm befalls you, then farewell
to all the fond hopes of half of the people who obey the sway of
England's sceptre. You are not your own master; you are the servant
of your loyal and true-hearted subjects, who have suffered already
so much in the cause. To throw your life away, nay, even to run
into needless peril, were a sin to them and to the country. I say
nothing of your mother's despair, of the anguish of your bride, if
harm befell you: that you must know better than I can do. But I am
a subject. I know what your subjects feel; and were you to neglect
any safeguard, however trivial, in these remaining hours of
threatened danger, you would be doing England a wrong which might
be utterly irreparable."

Edward was struck by this argument, and hesitated.

"I only wish to do what is right; but I cannot bear to