When we had finished the relation of this latest tale of Richard's vengeance on the faithful to the Queen her Majesty seemed stupefied with grief. She sat as one who hath just received a heavy blow with the flat side of a sword,—dazed and benumbed and still incapable of raising protest against the causer of the pain. Then with her hand she feebly tried to brush away from before her eyes some cloud that did obstruct her vision. A look of hopeless resignation then settled on her features, and two silent tears ran slowly down her cheeks. A heavy sigh, like the parting of a soul from its earthy home and comrade, escaped her, and she asked in a voice in which was nothing but the tone of resigned indifference:—"When do they die?"
"This day, madam; even now."
"I had scarce looked for such expediency," she remarked, without the least emotion.
"What do ye think Gloucester's intentions may be with regard to my son, the King?" she asked in that unnatural voice.
"Oh, madam," I replied, glad at last to be able to tell her something not unhappy, "even now the Counsellors are met within the Tower to decide upon the coronation of his Majesty."
"And doth Lord Hastings there attend?"
"He does, madam."
"And the Protector, I presume?"
"Ay, madam, the Duke of Gloucester seems bent on having his Majesty's coronation take place at once; and therefore, at least so says report, he doth attend in person that his presence there may urge the Counsellors to set an early day for the ceremony; 'For,' say the Protector's confidants, 'the Duke desires to have the weight of full responsibility, that now rests upon his shoulders, in a considerable measure lightened.' But, madam," I added, "it is for thee to judge the weight of these reports."
"Hastings," said her Majesty, without taking any apparent note of my remark, "though he doth dislike me much, still, methinks, is loyal to my son, if for no other reason than for the favours the boy's father showed him, even against my pleasure."