er
cheek still wears the rose of Lancaster. A companion? Ha! Mistress
Warner, I learn now how much pleasure exists in surprise!"

"My young visitor," said the dame, "is but an old friend; she was one of
the child-maidens reared at the court of Queen Margaret."

"In sooth!" exclaimed Hastings; and then, in an altered tone, he added,
"but I should have guessed so much grace had not come all from Nature.
And your father has gone to see the Lord Henry, and you rest, here,
his return? Ah, noble lady, may you harbour always such innocent
Lancastrians!" The fascinations of this eminent person's voice and
manner were such that they soon restored Sibyll, to the ease she had
lost at his sudden entrance. He conversed gayly with the old dame upon
such matters of court anecdote as in all the changes of state were still
welcome to one so long accustomed to court air; but from time to time
he addressed himself to Sibyll, and provoked replies which startled
herself--for she was not yet well aware of her own gifts--by their
spirit and intelligence.

"You do not tell us," said the Lady Longueville, sarcastically, "of the
happy spousailles of Elizabeth's brother with the Duchess of Norfolk,--a
bachelor of twenty, a bride of some eighty-two. [The old chronicler
justly calls this a "diabolical marriage." It greatly roused the wrath
of the nobles and indeed of all honourable men, as a proof of the
shameless avarice of the queen's family.] Verily, these alliances are
new things in the history of English royalty. But when Edward, who, even
if not a rightful king, is at least a born Plantagenet, condescended to
marry Mistress Elizabeth, a born Woodville, scarce of good gentleman's
blood, naught else seems strange enough to provoke marvel."

"As to the last matter," returned Hastings, gravely, "though her grace
the queen be no warm friend to me, I must needs become her champion and
the king's. The lady who refused the dishonouring suit of the fairest
prince and the boldest knight in the Christian world thereby made
herself worthy of the suit that honoured her; it was not Elizabeth
Woodville alone that won the purple. On the day she mounted a throne,
the chastity of woman herself was crowned."

"What!" said the Lady Longueville, angrily, "mean you to say that there
is no disgrace in the mal-alliance of kite and falcon, of Plantagenet
and Woodville, of high-born and mud-descended?"

"You forget, lady, that the widow of Henry the Fifth, Cathe