over
you."

"Lady" replied Philipson, "in my proudest hours, I was, before the
being to whom I preferred my prayers, but as a worm in the dust--in
his eyes I am now neither less nor more, degraded as I may be in the
opinion of my fellow-reptiles."

"How canst thou think thus!" said the devotee; "and yet it is well
with thee that thou canst. But what have thy losses been compared to
mine!"

She put her hand to her brow, and seemed for a moment overpowered by
agonizing recollections.

Arthur pressed to his father's side, and inquired, in a tone of
interest which could not be repressed, "Father, who is this lady? Is
it my mother?"

"No, my son," answered Philipson; "peace, for the sake of all you hold
dear or holy!"

The singular female, however, heard both the question and answer,
though expressed in a whisper.

"Yes," she said, "young man--I am--I should say I was--your mother;
the mother, the protectress, of all that was noble in England--I am
Margaret of Anjou."

Arthur sank on his knees before the dauntless widow of Henry the
Sixth, who so long, and in such desperate circumstances, upheld, by
unyielding courage and deep policy, the sinking cause of her feeble
husband; and who, if she occasionally abused victory by cruelty and
revenge, had made some atonement by the indomitable resolution with
which she had supported the fiercest storms of adversity. Arthur had
been bred in devoted adherence to the now dethroned line of Lancaster,
of which his father was one of the most distinguished supporters; and
his earliest deeds of arms, which though unfortunate, were neither
obscure nor ignoble, had been done in their cause. With an enthusiasm
belonging to his age and education, he in the same instant flung his
bonnet on the pavement, and knelt at the feet of his ill-fated
sovereign.

Margaret threw back the veil which concealed those noble and majestic
features, which even yet--though rivers of tears had furrowed her
cheek--though care, disappointment, domestic grief, and humbled pride,
had quenched the fire of her eye, and wasted the smooth dignity of her
forehead--even yet showed the remains of that beauty which once was
held unequalled in Europe. The apathy with which a succession of
misfortunes and disappointed hopes had chilled the feelings of the
unfortunate princess, was for a moment melted by the sight of the fair
youth's enthusiasm. She abandoned one hand to him, which he covered
with tears and kisses,