Inflamed with rage, Edward was hardly restrained from thrusting his sword through the steel surface of the mirror, and as soon as he could leave the cell of Bacon, posted hastily back to Fresingfield.
It is needless to relate how the prince confronted the happy lovers, and how he raved, while Margaret wept and pleaded, and Lacy nobly defended himself from the charge of treachery. At last, touched by the maiden’s tears, and moved perhaps by the remembrance of the dark eyes of Elinor, which, in the brief space he had seen her, had turned on him more tender glances than he had ever been able to win from Margaret’s blue orbs, Edward forgave his friend and blessed the lovers in true princely style.
And now Margaret is the betrothed bride of Lincoln’s earl, and happier in such happiness than if Edward had made her queen. The two gentlemen agree to ride together to London, where Edward has resolved to signify to his father his readiness to marry the princess. Lacy will seek the king’s consent to his marriage with Margaret, which, in the king’s good humor at Edward’s nuptials, he doubts not will be given. As for loving Margaret, she stays in sunny Fresingfield, shaping rich stuffs into fair garments, and with apt fingers weaving dainty
