And so, with hands clasped and wrung together, with tears raining from James's eyes, and a dry settled melancholy more sad than tears on John's countenance, the two friends parted, never again to meet; each to run a course true, brave, and short--extinguished the one in bitter grief, the other in blood. On All Saints' Day, while James stood with Humfrey of Gloucester at the head of the grave at Westminster, where Henry's earthly form was laid to rest amid the kings his fathers, amid the wail of a people as sorrowful as if they knew all the woes that were to ensue, Bedford was in like manner standing over a grave at the Royal Abbey of St. Denis. He, the victor's brother, represented all the princely kindred of Charles VI. of France, and, with his heart at Westminster, filled the chief mourner's place over the king who had pined to death for his conqueror. The same infant was proclaimed king over each grave--heir to France and England, to Valois and Lancaster. Poor child, his real heirloom was the insanity of the one and the doom of the other! Well for him that there was within him that holy innocence that made his life a martyrdom! CHAPTER XVI: THE CAGE OPEN More than a year had passed, and it was March when Malcolm was descending the stone stair that leads so picturesquely beneath the archway of its tower up to the hall of the college of St. Mary Winton, then _really_ New College. He had been residing there with Dr. Bennet, associating with the young members of the foundation educated at Winchester, and studying with all the freshness of a recent institution. It had been a very happy time for him, within the gray stone walls that pleasantly recalled Coldingham, though without Coldingham's defensive aspect, and with ample food for the mind, which had again returned to its natural state of inquiring reflection and ardour for knowledge.