"I know not, Sir John Grey," he said, "what has produced so strange a change in one, whom I had thought steadfast and firm: whether calmer thought and higher fortunes than those in which I first found you, may have engendered loftier views, or re-awakened slumbering ambition, so that you regret some words you spoke in the first liberal joy of renewed prosperity; but----"
"Cease, sir, cease!" exclaimed the old knight. "I should indeed regret those words, could they be binding in a case like this. Steadfast and firm I am, and you will find me so; but not loftier views or re-awakened ambition has made the change, but better knowledge of a man I trusted on a fair seeming. But these things are not to be discussed here in the open street, before servants and horseboys. You know your own heart--you know your own actions; and if they do not make you shrink from discussing what may be between you and me--"
"Shrink!" cried Richard of Woodville, vehemently; "Why should I shrink? shrink from discussing aught that I have done. No, by my knighthood! not before all the world, varlets or horseboys, princes or peers: I care not who hears my every action blazoned to the day."
"But I do, sir," replied Sir John Grey; "for the sake of those dear to us both--for your good uncle's sake, and for my child's."
"You are compassionate, Sir John!" said Woodville, bitterly; but then he added, "yet, no; you are deceived. I know not how, or by whom, but there is some error, that is very clear. This I must crave leave to say, that I am fearless of the judgment of mortal man on aught that I have done. Sins have we all to God; but I defy the world to say that I have failed in honour to one man on earth."
"According to that worldly code of honour we once spoke of, perhaps not," replied Sir John Grey.
"According to what fastidious code you will," said the young knight. "I stand here willing, Sir John Grey, to have each word or deed sifted like wheat before a cottage door. I know not your charge, or who it is that brings it; but I will disprove it, whatever it be, when it is clearly stated, and will cram his falsehood down his throat whenever I know his name who makes it."
"Ha, sir! Is it of me you speak?" demanded the knight, somewhat sharply.
"No, Sir John," replied Woodville, "you are to be the judge; for you," he added, with a sorrowful smile, "hold the high prize. But it is of him who has foully calumniated me to you; for that some one has done so I can clearly see; and I would know the charge and the accuser--here, now, on this spot--for I am not one to rest under suspicion, even for an hour."
"You speak boldly, Sir Richard of Woodville," answered Sir John Grey, "and, doubtless, think that you are right, though I may not; for I am one who have long lived in solitude, pondering men's deeds, and weighing them in a nicer balance than the world is wont to use. However, as I said before, this is no place to discuss such things; but as it is right and just that each man should have occasion to defend himself, I will meet you where you will, and when, to tell you what men lay to your charge. If you can then deny it, and disprove it, well. I will not speak more here. See! some one seeks your attention."