"Speak on, Prince."

"In a word, then, if I were thy son, Anne's husband, I see--I see--I
see--" (thrice repeated the prince, with a vague dreaminess in his
eye, and stretching forth his hand)--"a future that might defy all
foes, opening to me and thee!"

Warwick hesitated in some embarrassment.

"My gracious and princely cousin," he said at length, "this proffer is
indeed sweet incense to a father's pride. But pardon me, as yet,
noble Richard, thou art so young that the king and the world would
blame me did I suffer my ambition to listen to such temptation.
Enough, at present, if all disputes between our House and the king can
be smoothed and laid at rest without provoking new ones. Nay, pardon
me, prince, let this matter cease--at least, till thy return from the
Borders."

"May I take with me hope?"

"Nay," said Warwick, "thou knowest that I am a plain man; to bid thee
hope were to plight my word. And," he added seriously, "there be
reasons grave and well to be considered why both the daughters of a
subject should not wed with their king's brothers. Let this cease
now, I pray thee, sweet lord."

Here the demoiselles joined their father, and the conference was over;
but when Richard, an hour after, stood musing alone on the
battlements, he muttered to himself, "Thou art a fool, stout earl, not
to have welcomed the union between thy power and my wit. Thou goest