It was on that very day, the 13th of April, some hours before the departure of the York army, that Lord Hastings entered the Tower, to give orders relative to the removal of the unhappy Henry, whom Edward had resolved to take with him on his march.
And as he had so ordered and was about to return, Alwyn, emerging from one of the interior courts, approached him in much agitation, and said thus: “Pardon me, my lord, if in so grave an hour I recall your attention to one you may haply have forgotten.”
“Ah, the poor maiden; but you told me, in the hurried words that we have already interchanged, that she was safe and well.”
“Safe, my lord,—not well. Oh, hear me. I depart to battle for your cause and your king’s. A gentleman in your train has advised me that you are married to a noble dame in the foreign land. If so, this girl whom I have loved so long and truly may yet forget you, may yet be mine. Oh, give me that hope to make me a braver soldier.”
“But,” said Hastings, embarrassed, and with a changing countenance, “but time presses, and I know not where the demoiselle—”
“She is here,” interrupted Alwyn; “here, within these walls, in yonder courtyard. I have just left her. You, whom she loves, forgot her! I, whom she disdains, remembered. I went to see to her safety, to counsel her to rest here for the present, whatever betides; and at every word I said, she broke in upon me with but one name,—that name was thine! And when stung, and in the impulse of the moment, I exclaimed, ‘He deserves not this devotion. They tell me, Sibyll, that Lord Hastings has found a wife in exile.’ Oh, that look! that cry! they haunt me still. ‘Prove it, prove it, Alwyn,’ she cried. ‘And—’ I interrupted, ‘and thou couldst yet, for thy father’s sake, be true wife to me?’”
“Her answer, Alwyn?”
“It was this, ‘For my father’s sake only, then, could I live on; and—’ her sobs stopped her speech, till she cried again, ‘I believe it not! thou hast deceived me. Only from his lips will I hear the sentence.’ Go to her, manfully and frankly, as becomes you, high lord,—go! It Is but a single sentence thou hast to say, and thy heart will be the lighter, and thine arm the stronger for those honest words.”
Hastings pulled his cap over his brow, and stood a moment as if in reflection; he then said, “Show me the way; thou art right. It is due to her and to thee; and as by this hour to-morrow my soul may stand before the Judgment-seat, that poor child’s pardon may take one sin from the large account.”