In the changing countenance, the heaving breast, the trembling lip, the eyes that closed and opened to close again, as if to shut out the unworthy weakness,--yea, in the whole physical man,--was seen the crisis of the moral struggle.

And what, in truth, to him an Edward or a Henry, a Lancaster or a York?
Nothing.

But still that instinct, that principle, that conscience, ever strongest in those whose eyes are accustomed to the search of truth, prevailed.

So he rose suddenly and quietly, drew himself apart, left his work to the Destroyer, and said,-- "Prince, thou art a boy! Let a boy's voice annihilate that which should have served all time.

Strike!" Richard motioned; the hammer descended, the engine and its appurtenances reeled and crashed, the doors flew open, the wheels rattled, the sparks flew.