"It means, my Lord, that God hath saved King Henry."
And from all around rose the chorus. The King gazed from one to another as though he scarcely believed the evidence of his senses.
"Where are my wife and son?" was his next query.
"At Paris, my Lord, and soon to come hither, if God be serven."
"And the Earl of March?"
This was Edward's proper title in the eyes of a Lancastrian.
"Fled, my Lord,—fled the realm: and his wife is in sanctuary with her childre."
It would not have been Henry VI. if he had not answered, "Poor souls!"
"All is o'er of the rebellion," broke in Oxford, always fiery and rash: "all is o'er, your Highness; and we pray you give us leave to conduct you to your own lodging."
"Nay," said the King, kneeling down at the table; "tarry till I have thanked God."