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The Last of the Barons — Volume 07 by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton
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doubtful whether a revolt that had borrowed his name and was led by
his kinsmen might not originate in his consent, surrounded by those to
whom the earl was especially dear, and aware that if Warwick were
against him all was lost, still relaxed not the dignity of his mien;
and leaning on his large two-handed sword, with such inward resolves
as brave kings and gallant gentlemen form, if the worst should befall,
he watched the majestic strides of his great kinsman, and said, as the
earl approached, and the mutinous captains louted low,--

"Cousin, you are welcome! for truly do I know that when you have aught
whereof to complain, you take not the moment of danger and disaster.
And whatever has chanced to alienate your heart from me, the sound of
the rebel's trumpet chases all difference, and marries your faith to
mine."

"Oh, Edward, my king, why did you so misjudge me in the prosperous
hour!" said Warwick, simply, but with affecting earnestness: "since in
the adverse hour you arede me well?"

As he spoke, he bowed his head, and, bending his knee, kissed the hand
held out to him.

Edward's face grew radiant, and, raising the earl, he glanced proudly
at the barons, who stood round, surprised and mute.

"Yes, my lords and sirs, see,--it is not the Earl of Warwick, next to
our royal brethren the nearest subject to the throne, who would desert
me in the day of peril!"

"Nor do we, sire," retorted Raoul de Fulke; "you wrong us before our
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