between the queen's mother, bearing the same honours, and the House of
Nevile, to which they pass."

The cheek of the archbishop flushed with proud pleasure; he bowed his
head, and Edward, ere he could answer, went on: "Warwick is already so
high that, pardie, I have no other step to give him, save my throne
itself, and, God's truth, I would rather be Lord Warwick than King of
England! But for you--listen--our only English cardinal is old and
sickly; whenever he pass to Abraham's bosom, who but you should have
the suffrage of the holy college? Thou knowest that I am somewhat in
the good favour of the sovereign pontiff. Command me to the utmost.
Now, George, are we friends?" The archbishop kissed the gracious hand
extended to him, and, surprised to find, as by magic, all his schemes
frustrated by sudden acquiescence in the objects of them all, his
voice faltered with real emotion as he gave vent to his gratitude.
But abruptly he checked himself, his brow lowered, and with a bitter
remembrance of his brother's plain, blunt sense of honour, he said,
"Yet, alas! my liege, in all this there is nought to satisfy our
stubborn host."

"By dear Saint George and my father's head!" exclaimed Edward,
reddening, and starting to his feet, "what would the man have?"

"You know," answered the archbishop, "that Warwick's pride is only
roused when he deems his honour harmed. Unhappily, as he thinks, by
your Grace's full consent, he pledged himself to the insurgents of
Olney to the honourable dismissal of the lords of the Woodville race.
And unless this be conceded, I fear me that all else he will reject,
and the love between ye can be but hollow!"