was seeking, by vain knowledge, to be superior to the will of
Providence.

Yet, albeit perpetually irritating and chafing the impetuous spirit of
the earl, the earl, strange to say, loved the king more and more.
This perfect innocence, this absence from guile and self-seeking, in
the midst of an age never excelled for fraud, falsehood, and selfish
simulation, moved Warwick's admiration as well as pity. Whatever
contrasted Edward IV. had a charm for him. He schooled his hot
temper, and softened his deep voice, in that holy presence; and the
intimate persuasion of the hollowness of all worldly greatness, which
worldly greatness itself had forced upon the earl's mind, made
something congenial between the meek saint and the fiery warrior. For
the hundredth time groaned Warwick, as he quitted Henry's presence,--

"Would that my gallant son-in-law were come! His spirit will soon
learn how to govern; then Warwick may be needed no more! I am weary,
sore weary of the task of ruling men!"

"Holy Saint Thomas!" bluntly exclaimed Marmaduke, to whom these sad
words were said,--"whenever you visit the king you come back--pardon
me, my lord--half unmanned. He would make a monk of you!"

"Ah," said Warwick, thoughtfully, "there have been greater marvels
than that. Our boldest fathers often died the meekest shavelings.
An' I had ruled this realm as long as Henry,--nay, an' this same life
I lead now were to continue two years, with its broil and fever,--I
could well conceive the sweetness of the cloister and repose. How
sets the wind? Against them still! against them still! I cannot bear
this suspense!"