"As I became accustomed to male attire, I had I was no wish to resume my natural costume. less exposed to insults in my walks, and I found in my augmented freedom a little compensation for my sorrows. For some months you were my constant care, and your infantile play was a solace to my lonely hours. I was in want of no comfort, thanks to my kind protector, who was made Dean of York shortly after I had called upon him, and at the end of four or five months he came up to London, and paid me a visit. I was already bound to him by ties of gratitude; but when he took you on his knee, and called you his adopted son, with the fullest assurances that you should be provided for, my heart and soul were exclusively his. We exchanged assurances of mutual love, and I ceased to deplore the loss of your father. Ah! my son, that look of rising displeasure which I perceive upon your brow is quite misplaced. Had he returned according to promise-had he sent me a letter or a message, I would have endured the utmost misery for his sake, ere another should have had my affection; but I had a child to provide for; my imprudent confidence had thrown me from my proper sphere. In the eyes of the world I stood condemned to never-ending shame. So I accepted the liberal offer of one of the best of men, and during the long period through which I have been his constant companion, I have no reason to think my sex has been once suspected. "You were placed under the care of a worthy industrious farmer, a neighbour of my father's; but so well was everything contrived that nothing was known of your birth or condition. Afterwards, when my kind protector became bishop of Durham, he took an opportunity of bringing you under the notice of Prince Hal, and his friend Sir John Falstaff, who conducted you to London as his page. From that time you know your history even better than I could tell it you." "And my father's name?" inquired Harry. "I will tell you that also, my son, when I feel permitted so to do. It is a weight upon my own mind; yet I will not infringe my resolution, though I know that I shall be much happier when the remainder of the secret is divulged." 219 CHAPTER XXXIX. THE AUDIENCE. My nobile liege! alle my request Ys for a nobile knyghte, Who, tho' may hap hee has donne wronge, CHATTERTON. THE BRISTOWE TRAGEdie. At length the king reached London; his triumphal entry was accompanied with an extraordinary degree of splendid pageantry, to welcome the introduction of his young and blooming consort, Catherine, daughter of Charles the Sixth, the possession of whose hand had crowned the brilliant successes of his arms. The industrious chroniclers of the time have minutely recorded the particulars of this ceremonial, some of which it may not be misplaced to relate. The lord mayor, alderman, and members of the corporation in their robes of office, with a large body of the most wealthy citizens, advanced as far as Blackheath, on horses richly caparisoned, and escorted the king and queen into the city. The bishop of London, attended by the clergy in full canonicals, remained at St. Thomas's church, whence a splendid procession of cross and censer bearers issued to salute the warlike monarch on his arrival. Even the venerable gate of the southern extremity of the bridge received a share of the pageantry, being decorated with banners and standards. A numerous band of musicians was stationed on the battlements, and on the top of the turrets were two gigantic figures, which, in the absence of all evidence to the contrary, were very probably the respectable statues known to the present generation as Gog and Magog. On each side of the drawbridge was erected a lofty column, constructed in wood, but covered |