Probably there is a period in the life of every one--if it be not cut short in very early years, when the blossom is still upon the trees of existence--in which the heart is so depressed by a reiteration of those misfortunes which generally come in groups, that the unexpected announcement of an unnamed visitor causes us to look up with a feeling of dread, as if some new sorrow were about to be added to the list of those endured. But such was not yet the case with Richard of Woodville, for though many of the events which had lately passed, had tended to make him somewhat more grave and thoughtful than in younger days, yet neither griefs, nor anxieties, nor disappointments had been heavy enough to weigh down a spirit naturally buoyant. His heart might be called light and free; for, though burdened with some cares, and tied by the silver chain of love, yet hope, bright, vigorous, rarely-tiring hope, helped him to carry his load; and the bond between him and sweet Mary Markham was not one to fetter the energies of his mind, or to dim the brightness of expectation. But above all things his bosom was perfectly free from guile; and in a house so cleanly kept, there is always light, unless every window be closed by the hands of death or of despair.
He looked, therefore, to see who the stranger could be that asked for him, with some curiosity perhaps, but no alarm, and was surprised but well pleased, when the figure of honest Hugh of Clatford darkened the door.
"Ah, Hugh!" he exclaimed, "is that you? What has brought you to Westminster? Are you also going to seek service in foreign lands?"
"Faith, sir, I know not what I am going to do," replied the good yeoman; "I came up here with my lord, and wait his pleasure."
"With your lord!" exclaimed Woodville, in astonishment; "and what, in the name of fortune and all her freaks, has brought my uncle to Westminster?--Was he summoned to the coronation?"
"Good truth, noble sir, I know not," answered Hugh of Clatford. "He has not told me why he came; but I chanced to meet your man Hob, and asked him where you were to be found, but to come and see you and how you fared."
"Thanks, Hugh, thanks!" replied Richard of Woodville.
"'True friend findeth true friend wherever they follow,
And summer's no summer that wanteth the swallow;'
But whom has my uncle with him?"
He would have fain asked if Mary Markham was near; but the question would not be spoken, and Hugh of Clatford saved him the trouble of farther inquiry. "He has brought no one but myself," he said, "and Roger Vale, and Martin the henchman, and one or two lads with the horses, and a page, and the Lady Mary--"