In the Wars of the Roses | Page 7

mother will not let him."
For a moment the child's eyes flashed, and his clenched hands and
heaving breast showed that the spirit of Margaret of Anjou lived again
in her child; but pulling himself up short with a laugh, the little prince
added with a deferential bow, resuming his character of subject, "But I
crave your pardon, sweet prince, if I lose control of myself in the
thought of your wrongs. Lead on, noble lord, and I follow. Let us seek
safety in the dim aisles of yon giant wood. Surely there is some ford or
bridge nigh at hand which will give us safe crossing without wetting
ourselves."
Children are children all the world over, and at any period of its history.
Childhood ever delights in romance and imaginative situations and
adventures; and before ten minutes had passed the boys had completely
entered into the spirit of their play. Paul, shaking off the awe which had
at first held him silent and abashed, played the part of prince with an
energy and zeal which evoked the delight and admiration of his
companion; whilst the younger boy was amused to lay aside for the
moment any pretence at royalty, and pay his humble devoirs to his
liege lord.
Paul knew of some stepping stones which led across the stream into the
dark wood, and soon the boys were in what seemed to them the heart of
the great forest. The prince was delighted by all he saw. The sense of
freedom was enchanting, and his curiosity unbounded. He had never in
his life before enjoyed a game of play in so unfettered a fashion with a
comrade of nearly his own age; and soon forgetting even their own
game, the boys were walking with arms twined round each other's neck,
telling each other all that was in their hearts, and exchanging vows of
unalterable affection.
"When I am grown to manhood, and am a belted knight with noble
gentlemen of mine own to attend me, you shall be my very first esquire,
Paul," said the prince emphatically; "and we will ride through the world
together, seeking adventures which shall make all men wonder when
they hear of them. And when I am king you shall be my first counsellor
and greatest lord. I will degrade from office and dignity those proud
nobles who have been traitors at heart to my kingly father, and to you I
will give their broad lands and high titles. We will thus be comrades

and friends through life. You would never desert me, would you,
Paul?"
"I would lay down my life for your highness," cried Paul with
enthusiasm. "I will live and die true to the Red Rose--to the sign of the
silver swan."
The little prince's eyes kindled.
"I believe you would. I love you, Paul, and methinks that you would
love me too. I would that I could take you with me now to be my friend
and comrade through life; but perchance your lady mother could ill
spare you, by what you say. I know what a mother's love is like."
Paul's face was grave. For the first time in his life he was confronted by
the problem of a divided duty--that problem which troubles us all more
or less at some time in our history.
"I would gladly go with your highness to the world's end," he said. "I
should love to live and die at your side; but I doubt me if it would not
be cruel to my mother. She sometimes tells me that her life would be a
lone one without me."
"And you must stay with her," said the prince with decision; "at least so
long as you are a child. When you are a grown man it will be different.
Some day I will send for you, and you shall be my first and best friend;
but it cannot be now. My mother might not approve my choice, and
yours might not let you go. Princes as well as other men have to wait
for what they want"--and the child sighed--"but some day our turn will
come."
Then they resumed their play, and the hoary wood resounded to the
merry shouts of the boys as they ran hither and thither in active sport,
till the little prince was fairly tired out, though, still exulting in his
escape from maternal vigilance, he stoutly protested against going
back.
"See, good Paul," he said, "here is a right commodious hollow tree,
heaped with last year's dead leaves. I will rest awhile hidden away here,
where none will find me were they to look for me ever so. And if you
could find and bring me here a draught of water from the brook or from
some spring, I