ould have refused to entertain for a moment.
For what other earthly purpose could he be there? Vivian was a man who
had no faith in any human being. In his belief, the only possible means
to prevent Clarice from running away with Piers was to keep her either
in his sight or locked up when out of it. The idea of trusting to her
principles would have struck him as simply ridiculous.

Sir Piers, however, had completely disappeared, as completely as though
he had never been seen. And after a while Vivian grew more confident,
and not so particular about keeping the key turned. Clarice knew
neither why he locked her in, nor why he gave over doing so. Had she
had a suspicion of the reason, her indignation would not have been
small.

Public affairs meanwhile maintained their interest. The King marched
his army to Scotland, and routed Wallace's troops in the battle of
Falkirk; but his success was somewhat counterbalanced by the burning of
Westminster Palace and Abbey before he left home. It was about this
time that Piers Gavestone began to appear at Court, introduced by his
father with a view to making his fortune; and to the misfortune of the
young Prince Edward, their musical tastes being alike, they became fast
friends. The Prince was now only fourteen years of age; and, led by
Gavestone, he was guilty--if indeed the charge be true--of a mischievous
boyish frolic, in "breaking the parks" of the Bishop of Chester, and
appropriating his deer. The boy was fond of venison, and he was still
more fond of pets; but neither of these facts excused the raid on the
Bishop of Chester, who chose to take the offence far more seriously than
any modern bishop would be likely to do, and carried his complaint to
the King. The royal father, as his wont was, flew into a passion, and
weighted the boys' frolic with the heavy penalty of banishment for
Gavestone, and imprisonment for the Prince. In all probability young
Edward had never looked on his action in any other light than as a piece
of fun. Had his father been concerned about the sin committed against
God--exactly the sin of a boy who robs an orchard--he might, with less
outward severity, have produced a far more wholesome impression on his
son; but what he considered appears to have been merely the dignity of
the Prince, which was outraged by the act of the boy who bore the title.
A quiet, grave exhortation might have done him good, but imprisonment
did none, and left on many