“Very prettily argued, my clerkly son,” replied Warwick, lightly—“but pray can you tell me what the good people of England may think of the nobleman, who took advantage of his power to cast a son, and heir of that same ‘old friend’ whom you prate of into a damp hole in his palace, to herd him with a cur like that, and drag him before a picked number of councillors to be examined, on a question which touched his honor and life itself? Love is a question to amuse the people more than any act of mine. If His Grace of Somerset has seen fit to tread upon a serpent’s nest, the world will not marvel that his foot is stung where it would have crushed. “No, Dudley, no—the king has rightly decided, and he who would have heaped ignominy on my son shall drain the cup he has drugged! Even as he forced the heir to my house to this closet in base contact with a wretch like that cringing cur yonder, shall he go forth and in like company.” Dudley heard his father out with habitual reverence, but still opened his lips to expostulate once more against the course he was pursuing, but Warwick turned impatiently away. “Tush man,” he said with a quick wave of the hand, “have done with this and meet me at Somerset House within the hour. The king desires it. If your grace is ready,” he added, turning to Somerset as if extending the most trifling invitation on earth, “we will proceed at once to the council.” Somerset arose, folded a cloak about him, and though his face was very pale, moved toward the door without speaking a word. The guard closed in around him, and he left the closet like one in a bewildering dream. He had entered that room but an hour before, arrogant in the consciousness of power, second to none in the kingdom; he left it a prisoner and a ruined man. Warwick gave a sign that the artisan should be secured and followed the fallen duke. The old councillor kept by the side of his friend, and on their way through the corridor the Duchess of Somerset came through a side door and approached her husband, but seeing how pale he was, and that many persons were around him, she drew back disappointed in the womanly impulse which had induced her to seek an interview before he went from the palace, that the cause of her child might be justly understood. * * * * * [Illustration: PAINTED BY R. LANDSEER, Engraved by J. SARTAIN. _Return from Hawking._ _Engraved expressly for Graham’s Magazine_] * * * * * RETURN FROM HAWKING. ON A PICTURE BY LANDSEER.