cipitating the marriage—and Sir Richard's death, too—by a wicked forgery. Tales of cruelty to the lady Edith and the servants were to be heard on all hands; and since the father's death Sir Hugh had thrown off all soft disguises and become a pitiless master toward all who in any way depended upon him and his domains for bread.
There was a bit of Andrews's gossip which the king listened to with a lively interest—
"There is rumor that the king is mad. But in charity forbear to say I mentioned it, for 'tis death to speak of it, they say."
His majesty glared at the old man and said—
"The king is not mad, good man—and thou'lt find it to thy advantage to busy thyself with matters that nearer concern thee than this seditious prattle."
"What doth the lad mean?" said Andrews, surprised at this brisk assault from such an unexpected quarter. Hendon gave him a sign, and he did not pursue his question, but went on with his budget—
"The late king is to be buried at Windsor in a day or two—the 16th of the month,—and the new king will be crowned at Westminster the 20th."
"Methinks they must needs find him first," muttered his majesty; then added, confidently, "but they will look to that—and so also shall I."
"In the name of"—
But the old man got no further—a warning sign from Hendon checked his remark. He resumed the thread of his gossip—
"Sir Hugh goeth to the coronation—and with grand hopes. He confidently looketh to come back a peer, for he is high in favor with the Lord Protector."
"What Lord Protector?" asked his majesty.
"His grace the Duke of Somerset."
"What Duke of Somerset?"
