But Dacre waved his hand. "I cannot talk of that," he said, "'tis the same as ever. She knows how I love her, and her father too; but the phantom of a doubt still crosses her--even her; that I can see, and good Sir Philip answers bluffly as is his wont, that he knows it is false; but yet--but yet! Oh, that accursed 'but yet,' Richard. The plague spot is upon me still. That is enough. The breath of one foul vapour can obscure the sun, and the tongue of one false villain can tarnish the honour of a life."
"Poo, nonsense, Harry," answered his companion; "I will show you ere many hours be over, how lightly I can shake falsehood off. 'Tis still your own heart that swells the load. I had not thought my uncle was so foolish--so unkind."
He whiled him on to speak farther; but the same cloud was still upon Sir Henry Dacre's mind. It was unchanged and dark as ever. Study, to which he had given himself up, had done nought to clear it away; reflection had not chased it thence; time itself had not lightened it.
Half an hour passed, and then there came a tramp as of armed men. Dacre looked anxiously on his friend's face; but Woodville heard it calmly; and when the hangings were drawn back and a royal officer entered, followed by a party of archers, no change came upon his countenance.
"What is your pleasure, Sir William Porter?" asked Dacre, looking at him earnestly.
"I am sorry, sir, to have this duty," replied the officer; "but I am sent to arrest Sir Richard of Woodville, charged with high treason."
Woodville smiled; "Are your orders, sir, to bring me before the King?" he demanded.
"No, sir knight," answered Sir William Porter, "I am to hold you a prisoner till his Grace's pleasure is known."
"Then I must ask a boon," replied Woodville; "which is simply this, that you will keep me here in ward, till one of your men convey this to the King. He gave it me long ago, and bade me in a strait like this, make use of it. Let your messenger say, that I claim his royal promise to be heard when I ask it." At the same time, he took a ring from his finger; but then, recollecting himself, he said, "But stay, I will write--so he commanded."
"You must write quickly, sir knight," replied Sir William Porter; "for the King retires early, and I must not wait long."