“Were we indeed a king,” he said, “a true, free king as our father was, and not the invalid child which men see in us, these things could not happen. No man would dare to enter the councils of a nation and cast their leaders into prison without the sanction, nay, command of his monarch. But, alas! there is not in the kingdom a being more completely held in thrall than ourself! Until now, we were scarcely made aware of the persecution which has been so ruthlessly urged against our uncle—but it shall not be! The new duke, thy father, must not thus abuse the authority with which the council, rather than ourself, has invested him!” Edward arose, excited to some degree of strength by the indignation of his generous heart, and walked up and down the room once or twice, as if to tranquilize his spirit, then seating himself once more, he requested Lord Dudley to explain the cause and all the particulars of Somerset’s arrest. It was a difficult task which the young monarch imposed on his visiter; for Dudley loved his father, and it was impossible to enter into the desired explanation without, in some degree, implicating him; but a sense of justice, and that true love which brought him to Edward’s presence, urged him to obedience, and while he so guarded each word as to cast as little blame as possible on his own parent, he pleaded the cause of his friends with a degree of enthusiasm that aroused all the love of justice and family affection, which were strong and predominating qualities in the heart of the youthful monarch. Edward sat perfectly still, shading his eyes with his small, thin hand, till Dudley had finished speaking; and even for several moments after, he remained motionless, and as if lost in thought. At last, he allowed the hand to drop from his eyes, and looked up. “My lord,” he said, in a firm, clear voice, “you have acted rightly and well in laying this subject before us. Our reign may be a brief one, but it shall be marked, at least, by one act of justice. Come hither again after nightfall. Meantime we will consider the subject and decide what can best be done.” Dudley bent his knee reverently, kissed the pale hand extended toward him, and left the presence. As his fine, healthy form disappeared through the door, and the vigorous footfall of youth and firm health sounded back from the corridor, Edward looked after him, smiled very sadly, and sinking down to his chair, exhausted with the scene, murmured: “How well he is! how full of life and hope! and I—” He covered his face with both hands, and tears trickled through his fingers, till they fell like rain amid the sables that lined his robe. “And yet,” he added at last, removing his hands and wiping away the tears, while a brighter expression stole over his face, “and yet I have the power to make him happy—and Jane, my sweet cousin. Let me act while I have yet strength!”