The colour came into Edward's cheek, and he bent down his eyes upon the ground, feeling the ridicule of his father talking of justice, when so gross an act as the late condemnation of Hugh de Monthermer had just been committed. But Henry went on to cross-question poor Lucy, to whom zeal and anxiety for her lover had given a temporary strength which was now failing rapidly.
"You said, lady," he continued, "that the explanation which your father gave of this letter being written in another hand satisfied you completely at the time. What makes you think now that it is a forgery?--Has love nothing to do with the defence?"
The colour mounted into Lucy's cheek, and Eleanor was about to interpose, to shield her from such questions, before such an assembly. But the poor girl gained courage both from the depth and strength of her own feelings, and from the discourteous mockery of the King. She raised her eyes, bright and sparkling, to his face, and answered--"Perhaps love has, my lord. But has hate no part in the accusation?--God in his mercy grant that it may have none in the judgment!"
A dead silence succeeded for a moment to this bold reply; and then Lucy, turning pale again and dropping her eyes, went on to say--"You asked me why I think it forged, my lord? Because I now see a motive for the forgery, which I did not see before--because I perceive no cause why Hugh de Monthermer should not write with his own hand--because he could have had still, less to kill the father of her beloved--because he did not even sign the letter; for the name was not his writing--because not even the seal was, from his signet. These are strong reasons, sire--even," she added, with the tears rising into her eyes--"even if there were not a reason stronger still:--that he has ever been honest, honourable, and true; that no mean, dark act lies chronicled against him; that his whole life gives the lie to the accusation; and that he has never taken advantage of any opportunity to do a thing that he thought to be wrong, even when the opinion of the world might have extolled the act."
She wiped the tears from her yes, for they were now running; over fast, and Eleanor rose from her seat, saying, "I beseech you, sire, let her depart. She is grieved and faint--I see it."
"One more question," rejoined Henry, "and she shall go. You say, lady, that you see a motive for the forgery;--is it that you have any suspicion of another having done this deed?" Lucy ran her eye round all the circle, suffering it to pause for a moment upon the face of Richard de Ashby, which turned pale under her glance. She carried it round to the other extreme, however, and then replied, "I have a strong suspicion, sire."
"Of whom?" demanded the King, eagerly.
"Forgive me, gracious lord," answered Lucy; "though strong, it is but suspicion, and I, for one, will not make a charge upon suspicion alone. But let me warn my brother Alured, who is too noble to doubt and too brave to be prudent, that those who have destroyed the father may not have any greater tenderness for the son."
Again her words were followed by a silent pause, and Eleanor, taking advantage of it, drew Lucy away, saying, "We have your leave, sire--is it not so?"
The King bowed his head; and the moment the Princess, her fair companion, and her attendants, had departed, a buzz ran round the room, while the Prince and the King spoke in a low tone together.