Page:The fortunes of Perkin Warbeck.djvu/269

Rh name and presence of a Plantagenet shall no longer sanction the devastation of his country. I would rather be a cotter on your wild Highlands, than buy the sovereignty of my fair England by the blood of her inhabitants."

The warm, though capricious heart of James, was quietly recalled by the look and voice of his once dearest friend, to a sense of the ungraciousness of his proceeding: he frankly stretched out his hand; "I was wrong, cousin, forgive me, we will confer anon. Even now, orders have been issued to recall the troops; a few words will explain everything."

York bent his head in acquiescence. The king dismissed his nobles, and committed to the care of one among them the reverend D'Ayala. With a strong sentiment of self-defence, which was self-accusation—a half return of his ancient affection, which acted like remorse—James set himself to explain his proceedings. Fearful, unaided by any of the natives, of proceeding with an inadequate force farther into the heart of the country, he had set down before the castle of Norham, which was defended undauntedly by the bishop of Durham. He had wasted much time here; and now the Cornish insurgents being quelled, the earl of Surrey was marching northwards, at the head of forty thousand men. Surrey, Howard, might he not be a masked friend? "who," continued James, "has surely some personal enmity to your highness; for the reverend Father D'Ayala, an ambassador from Spain, visited him on his journey northward, and it seems the noble indulged in despiteful language; saying, that he who could bring the fell Scot (I thank him) into England, wore manifest signs of—I will not say—I remember not his words; they are of no import. The sum is, my dear lord, I cannot meet the English army in the open field; walled town—even those paltry towers—I cannot win: with what shame and haste I may, I must retreat over the border."

Many more words James, in the heat of repentant affection, said to soothe his English friend. York's blood boiled in his veins; his mind was a chaos of scorn, mortification, and worse anger against himself. The insult inflicted by James before his assembled lords, the bitter speech of Surrey; he almost feared that he deserved the one, while he disdained to resent the other; and both held him silent. As speedily as he might, he took leave of the king: he saw signs in the encampment of the return of the foragers; they were laden with booty: his heart was sick; to ease his pent-up burning spirit, when night brought solitude, though not repose, he wrote thus to the Lady Katherine:—

"Wilt thou, dear lady of my heart, descend from thy lofty