“I know it,” replied Edward, regarding him through his streaming eyes with almost filial affection; “but my heart is too full just now, and will overflow.”
“Your accounts of my royal nephew’s progress are most gratifying, learned sirs,” observed Hertford, anxious to turn the discourse. “That you have avouched nothing more than the truth, I am sure; yet ye almost make him out a prodigy.”
“And a prodigy he is,” cried Sir John Cheke, with enthusiasm. “Few there be like him.”
“Nay, my good uncle, you must distrust what my kind preceptors are pleased to say of me,” remarked Edward. “They view me with too partial eyes.”
At this juncture an interruption, anything but agreeable to Hertford, was offered by the unexpected entrance of Sir Thomas Seymour, evidently, from his looks and the state of his apparel, fresh from a rapid journey. Disregarding the angry glances directed against him by his brother, Sir Thomas doffed his cap, flung himself on his knee before Edward, and taking the youthful monarch’s hand, exclaimed, “God save your Grace! I hoped to be first to tell you that the sovereignty of this realm hath devolved upon you, but I find I have been anticipated.”
“I thank you heartily, gentle uncle,” replied Edward, “not for your news,” he added, sadly, “for I had liefer you had brought me any other, but for your display of loyalty and attachment.”
“Have I and my fellow-preceptor been standing all this while in the presence of our gracious sovereign without knowing it?” exclaimed Sir John Cheke, as Seymour arose. “I pray you pardon us, and accept our homage.”
So saying, he and Doctor Cox knelt down before the young king, who gave them each a hand.
“I now see my inadvertence,” said Cox, “and I again pray your Majesty to pardon it.”
“Think of it no more,” replied Edward. “Arise, my beloved monitors and preceptors. It is true I am your sovereign lord, but you must still only regard me as a pupil.”
“You have done wrong in coming here, sir, without authority,” said the Earl of Hertford, in a stern tone, to his brother, “and will incur the displeasure of the council.”
“So I incur not his Majesty’s displeasure, I shall rest perfectly easy as to the council’s anger,” rejoined Seymour, in a tone of haughty indifference.
“Having discharged an errand which you have most officiously and unwarrantably taken upon yourself,” pursued the earl, with increasing wrath, “you will be pleased to depart.—How! do you loiter?”
“His Majesty has not commanded me to withdraw, and I only obey him,” returned Seymour, carelessly.
“Nay, my good lord,” said Edward to the earl, “my uncle Sir Thomas seems to have ridden hard, and must need some refreshment after his hasty journey. That obtained, he can accompany us to Enfield.”
“He cannot go with us,” cried Hertford, forgetting himself in the heat of the moment.
“How?” exclaimed Edward, a frown crossing over his face, and giving him a slight look of his father. Without another word he then turned to Sir Thomas, and said, “Prithee, make haste, gentle uncle. Get what you lack, and then prepare to ride with us to Enfield.”
“All thanks to your Majesty, but I want nothing,” rejoined Seymour. “I am ready to set forth with you at once.”
The Princess Elizabeth, who had been standing a little apart with Sir Anthony Brown, and who appeared highly pleased with her royal brother’s assumption of authority, here clapped her hands for an attendant, and commanded a cup of wine for Sir Thomas Seymour.
“I will not refuse this,” said Seymour, when the wine was brought. “May your Majesty reign long and prosperously!” he added, raising the goblet to his lips.
Having bidden adieu to his preceptors, and taken a tender leave of his sister, telling her to be of good cheer, and assuring her that their separation should not be long, Edward then informed the Earl of Hertford that he was ready to set forth, who thereupon ceremoniously conducted him to the door. They were followed by Sir Anthony Brown and Sir Thomas Seymour, the latter of whom lingered for a moment to whisper a few words to the Princess Elizabeth.