thought. True that all the ingenious additions to the engine--additions
that were to convince the reason and startle the fancy--were not yet
complete (for want, of course, of the diamond bathed in moonbeams);
but still there was enough in the inventions already achieved to excite
curiosity and obtain encouragement. So, with care and diligence and
sanguine hope the philosopher prepared the grim model for exhibition to
a man who had worn a crown, and might wear again. But with that innocent
and sad cunning which is so common with enthusiasts of one idea, the
sublime dwellers of the narrow border between madness and inspiration,
Adam, amidst his excitement, contrived to conceal from his daughter all
glimpse of the danger he ran, of the correspondence of which he was to
be the medium,--or rather, may we think that he had forgotten both! Not
the stout Warwick himself, in the roar of battle, thought so little of
peril to life and limb as that gentle student, in the reveries of his
lonely closet; and therefore, all unsuspicious, and seeing but diversion
to Adam's recent gloom of despair, an opening to all his bright
prospects, Sibyll attired herself in her holiday garments, drew her
wimple closely round her face, and summoning Madge to attend her, bent
her way to the Tower. Near York House, within view of the Sanctuary and
the Palace of Westminster, they took a boat, and arrived at the stairs
of the Tower.

CHAPTER IV. LORD HASTINGS.

William Lord Hastings was one of the most remarkable men of the age.
Philip de Comines bears testimony to his high repute for wisdom and
virtue. Born the son of a knight of ancient lineage but scanty lands,
he had risen, while yet in the prime of life, to a rank and an influence
second, perhaps, only to the House of Nevile. Like Lord Montagu, he
united in happy combination the talents of a soldier and a courtier. But
as a statesman, a schemer, a thinker, Montagu, with all his craft, was
inferior to Hastings. In this, the latter had but two equals,--namely,
George, the youngest of the Nevile brothers, Archbishop of York; and
a boy, whose intellect was not yet fully developed, but in whom was
already apparent to the observant the dawn of a restless, fearless,
calculating, and subtle genius. That boy, whom the philosophers of
Utrecht had taught to reason, whom the lessons of Warwick had trained to
arms, was Richard, Duke of Gloucester, famous even now for his skill in
the tilt-yard and his i