As he spoke the face of the Duchess suddenly became grave, and stepping
swiftly to his side she put her hand upon his arm.

"You will not go, Richard?" she begged.

"Why, sweetheart, what ails you? Why should a journey to London and a
possible exchange of blows alarm you?"

"It is not the journey, dear," she answered. "Many a time have you
taken it; and, for the blows, did I not speed you to the Scottish war?
Yet I have a foreboding--nay, smile not, my lord!--that upon your
course in this matter hangs not only your own fate, but the fate of
Plantagenet as well. Accept it not," taking his hand and speaking with
deep entreaty; "the Protectorship can add nothing to Richard of
Gloucester, and it may work not only your doom but that of the great
House of Anjou."

"Nay, Anne, you are ill, surely," said Richard, putting his arm around
her. "What has put such uncanny notions into your mind?"

"I do not know; yet I implore you to humor me in this. . . . You have
not already despatched an answer to Buckingham?" she suddenly demanded.

"No--not yet," then turned sharply to De Lacy. "It seems, Sir Aymer,
that you are to be admitted to my confidence as well as to Stafford's.
So be it, for I trust you. Yet, believe me, it is well sometimes to
forget."

De Lacy bowed low, saying simply, "I have forgotten."