“Your grace,” he said, “I do confess it; but I have seen her so like an angel in her devotion, so forgetful of all but him, that, loving her, I would risk my life to give him back to her.”
The duke took a pinch of snuff and stood tapping the jewelled lid of the box thoughtfully.
“A very pretty sentiment, Sir Edward,” he said genially, “and I honor you for it. By my faith, I would not risk my own heart against her tears, or her smiles, either,” he added smiling, “though you need not mention it. But I have small hope, sir, small hope; the king has been, as we know, over merciful and fostered rebellion at his very door. What is it the great bard says?
“‘What doth cherish weeds but gentle air?
And what make robbers bold but too much lenity?’
And at this time, after the recent troubles, his majesty is not like to be advised to mercy,” and his grace shook his head; “there is but little hope!”
CHAPTER XXXI
LADY RUSSELL