hey had asked
too much of her in begging her to sing what so reminded her of her home
and parents.

'She hath been thus before. It was that song,' said Jean, and the Lady
of Glenuskie coming up at the same time confirmed the idea, and declined
all help except to take her back to the Priory. The litter that had
brought the Countess of Salisbury was at the door, and Henry would not
be denied the leading her to it. She was recovering herself, and could
see the extreme sweetness and solicitude of his face, and feel that she
had never before leant on so kind and tender a supporting arm, since
she had sat on her father's knee. 'Ah! sir, you mind me of my blessed
father,' she said.

'Your father was a holy man, and died well-nigh a martyr's death,' said
Henry. ''Tis an honour I thank you for to even me to him--such as I am.'

'Oh, sir! the saints guard you from such a fate,' she said, trembling.

'Was it so sad a fate--to die for the good he could not work in his
life?' said Henry.

They had reached the arch into the court. A crowd was round
them, and no more could be said. Henry kissed Eleanor's hand, as he
assisted her into the litter, and she was shut in between the curtains,
alone, for it only held one person. There was a strange tumult of
feeling. She seemed lifted into a higher region, as if she had been in
contact with an angel of purity, and yet there was that strange sense of
awful fate all round, as if Henry were nearer being the martyr than the
angel. And was she to share that fate? The generous young soul seemed
to spring forward with the thought that, come what might, it would be
hallowed and sweetened with such as he! Yet withal there was a sense of
longing to protect and shield him.

As usual, she had soon quite recovered, but Jean pronounced it 'one of
Elleen's megrims--as if she were a Hielander to have second sight.'

'But,' said the young lady, 'it takes no second sight to spae ill to
yonder King. He is not one whose hand will keep his head, and there are
those who say that he had best look to his crown, for he hath no more
right thereto than I have to be Queen of France!'

'Fie, Jean, that's treason.'

'I'm none of his, nor ever will be! I have too much spirit for a gudeman
who cares for nothing but singing his psalter like a friar.'

Jean was even more of that opinion when, the next day, at York House,
only Edmund and Jasper Tudor appeared with their brother's excuses.
He had been obliged to