into the royalty of England."

Without pausing for reply, he passed on and seated himself on the
throne, while Isabel and her husband took possession of the state
chairs on either hand. At a gesture of the king's the countess and
Anne placed themselves on seats less raised, but still upon the dais.
But now as Edward sat, the hall grew gradually full of lords and
knights who commanded in Warwick's train, while the earl and the
archbishop stood mute in the centre, the one armed cap-a-pie, leaning
on his sword, the other with his arms folded in his long robes.

The king's eye, clear, steady, and majestic, roved round that martial
audience, worthy to be a monarch's war-council, and not one of whom
marched under a monarch's banner! Their silence, their discipline,
the splendour of their arms, the greater splendour of their noble
names, contrasted painfully with the little mutinous camp of Olney,
and the surly, untried recruits of Anthony Woodville. But Edward,
whose step, whose form, whose aspect, proclaimed the man conscious of
his rights to be lord of all, betrayed not to those around him the
kingly pride, the lofty grief, that swelled within his heart. Still
seated, he raised his left hand to command silence; with the right he
replaced his plumed cap upon his brow.

"Lords and gentlemen," he said (arrogating to himself at once, as a
thing of course, that gorgeous following), "we have craved leave of
our host to address to you some words,--words which it pleases a king
to utter, and which may not be harsh to the ears of a loyal subject.
Nor will we, at this great current of unsteady fortune, make excuse,
noble ladies, to you, that we speak of war to knighthood, which is
ever the sworn defender of the daughter and the wife,--the daughters