The old knight smiled. "Thou art a jesting coystrel, Dickon," he said; "and yet not a bad man at arms either. But times are changed, I tell thee, and not for the better. Thou thinkest according to the day, and cannot understand the past. When goest thou over seas, boy?" "In a few days, sir," answered Richard of Woodville. "I think before a week be out." Mary Markham's cheek turned a little pale, and the old knight meditated for a moment or two; after which he asked his nephew when he intended to quit London? Richard replied, that he went on the following morning; and Sir Philip, who had found a sad vacancy in the hall since Richard had left them for a time, and poor Catherine for ever, required that he should stay and keep them company for the rest of the day. "Heaven knows, my poor Mary," he said, "how long we may have to remain in this place; and we shall soon find it dull enough. The people whom I expected to meet, have not yet appeared, and no tidings of them have come; so we may as well keep this idle boy to make us merry; and if he must go buy arms or lace jerkins for the court of Burgundy, why we will go with him to Gutherun's Lane and the Jury; and you shall ride your white palfrey for once along Cheape, with your gay side-saddle quilted with gold; though in my young days--before King Richard married Anne of Bohemia--never a lady in the land saw so foolish a contrivance." It may well be supposed that neither Mary Markham nor Richard of Woodville was very much averse to such a proposal; and the rest of the day passed in that April-morn happiness which all must have felt, ere parting with those we love; when the cloudy thought of the dreary morrow comes hourly sweeping over the sunshine of the present, yet making the light seem more bright for the passing shadow. More than once, too, the lovers were left for awhile alone; and every moment added to their sweet store of vows and promises. Much was also told that they had not had time to tell before, though it was still spoken in rambling and unconnected form--the one predominant feeling always intruding, and calling their thoughts and words back to what was passing in their own hearts. How many bitter moments pay for our sweet ones in this life! and yet how willing are we all to make the purchase, whatever be the price! The ambitious spirit of enjoyment is upon us, and we must still enlarge the sphere of our delight, though--as when a conqueror stretches the bounds of his empire, and thereby only exposes a wider frontier to attack--each new hope, each new pleasure, each new possession, but lays us open to loss, regret, and disappointment. It is a sad view of human life; but Richard of Woodville and Mary Markham found its truth when they came to feel how much more bitter was their parting, for the few sweet hours of happiness they had enjoyed. CHAPTER XIII. THE WRONG.