Edward took but three strides across the chamber, and then halted
opposite the archbishop, and lay both hands on his shoulders, as,
looking him full in the face, he said, "Answer me frankly, am I a
prisoner in these towers or not?"

"Not, sire."

"You palter with me, priest. I have been led hither against my will.
I am almost without an armed retinue. I am at the earl's mercy. This
chamber might be my grave, and this couch my bed of death."

"Holy Mother! Can you think so of Warwick? Sire, you freeze my
blood."

"Well, then, if I refuse to satisfy Warwick's pride, and disdain to
give up loyal servants to rebel insolence, what will Warwick do?
Speak out, archbishop."

"I fear me, sire, that he will resign all office, whether of peace or
war. I fear me that the goodly army now at sleep within and around
these walls will vanish into air, and that your Highness will stand
alone amidst new men, and against the disaffection of the whole land!"

Edward's firm hand trembled. The prelate continued, with a dry,
caustic smile,--

"Sire, Sir Anthony Woodville, now Lord Rivers, has relieved you of all
embarrassment; no doubt, my Lord Dorset and his kinsmen will be
chevaliers enough to do the same. The Duchess of Bedford will but
suit the decorous usage to retire a while into privacy, to mourn her