"Uncle, I would that thou and I could rule this realm, and that my father and thy sons could play at holding mimic court and gay tourneys in sunny France. Then, methinks, we should see an end of this confusion. But fate has willed that we shall stand in hostile camps; only believe me that for thee and for thy aims and objects I have both love and reverence; and if the day shall come when I sit upon the throne of this realm, the lore I have learned from thee will be my safeguard when I am tempted to forget the lessons learned in the school of adversity, and to think myself too great a man to need to think of the welfare of my people." Leicester's eyes suddenly softened; he put out his hand and laid it upon that of the Prince. "I thank thee for that word, Edward," he said; "and believe me, I love thee as though thou wert mine own son. If it were possible, we would fight side by side; but thou hast chosen thy father's cause, and I am pledged to that of the nation." "I know it cannot be," said Edward regretfully; "yet let us each preserve the love which one brave and honourable man may feel for another, even though he be a foe. In the days to come, if my star arise, and I in turn be victor, I will not forget the kindness I have received at thine hands. It shall be repaid--I promise it." "But not to me," said Leicester gravely, "for with this cause I sink or swim--I live or die. If it is the will of Heaven to reverse the victory accorded to us, I shall not live to see the day. There is always a soldier's death left for the man who sees his cause lost." "Nay," said Edward warmly--for, strange as it may seem, he was full of hope and courage to-day, whilst his victorious uncle seemed weighed down by a load of care--"thou must live to be mine adviser and friend; for the time will come when I shall need both, if indeed I live to sit in my father's place." The Earl slightly shook his head, but uttered no word. He felt from time to time a strange presage of coming trouble, and to-night the feeling was strong upon him. The Demoiselle in the gallery, leaning over and listening eagerly to all that passed, now turned back to her companions, almost stamping her foot as she cried,-- "I would I could put a gag in Simon's foolish mouth! Why will he always seek to give umbrage by his arrogance and pride? He has no talents, no powers, nothing but the reflected glory of our great father's name; and yet, to hear him brag, one might well think that he was the lord of all the realm! Why have such sons been given to my noble father and royal mother? They have greatness, talent, goodness, power! Why are their sons such miserable braggarts? It makes my heart burn to think of it!"