news which reached us four days since. The Lord Bonville is dead,--
died three months ago at his manor house in Devon. [To those who have
read the "Paston Letters" it will not seem strange that in that day
the death of a nobleman at his country seat should be so long in
reaching the metropolis,--the ordinary purveyors of communication were
the itinerant attendants of fairs; and a father might be ignorant for
months together of the death of his son.] Thy Katherine is free, and
in London. Well, man, where is thy joy?"

"Time is, time was!" said Hastings, gloomily. "The day has passed
when this news could rejoice me."

"Passed! nay, thy good stars themselves have fought for thee in delay.
Seven goodly manors swell the fair widow's jointure; the noble dowry
she brought returns to her. Her very daughter will bring thee power.
Young Cecily Bonville [afterwards married to Dorset], the heiress,
Lord Dorset demands in betrothal. Thy wife will be mother-in-law to
thy queen's son; on the other hand, she is already aunt to the Duchess
of Clarence; and George, be sure, sooner or later, will desert
Warwick, and win his pardon. Powerful connections, vast possessions,
a lady of immaculate name and surpassing beauty, and thy first love!--
(thy hand trembles!)--thy first love, thy sole love, and thy last!"

"Prince--Prince! forbear! Even if so--In brief, Katherine loves me
not!"

"Thou mistakest! I have seen her, and she loves thee not the less
because her virtue so long concealed the love." Hastings uttered an
exclamation of passionate joy, but again his face darkened.