Earl
of Warwick addressed to her, then a simple maiden, in favour of their
protege, Sir R. Johnes.] completed the displeasure which the blunt
Marmaduke had already called forth in Sibyll's gentle but proud nature.
"Speak, maiden,--ay or no?" continued Montagu, surprised and angered at
the haughty silence of one whom he just knew by sight and name, though
he had never before addressed her.

"No, my lord," answered Sibyll, keeping down her indignation at this
tone, though it burned in her cheek, flashed in her eye, and swelled in
the heave of her breast. "No! and your kinsman might have spared this
affront to one whom--but it matters not." She swept from the tent as she
said this, and passed up the alley into that of the queen's mother.

"Best so; thou art too young for marriage, Marmaduke," said Montagu,
coldly. "We will find thee a richer bride ere long. There is Mary of
Winstown, the archbishop's ward, with two castles and seven knight's
fees."

"But so marvellously ill-featured, my lord," said poor Marmaduke,
sighing.

Montagu looked at him in surprise. "Wives, sir," he said, "are not made
to look at,--unless, indeed, they be the wives of other men. But dismiss
these follies for the nonce. Back to thy post by the king's pavilion;
and by the way ask Lord Fauconberg and Aymer Nevile, whom thou wilt pass
by yonder arbour, ask them, in my name, to be near the pavilion while
the king banquets. A word in thine ear,--ere yon sun gilds the top of
those green oaks, the Earl of Warwick will be with Edward IV.; and come
what may, some brave hearts should be by to welcome him. Go!"

Without tarrying for an answer, Montagu turned into one of the tents,
wherein Raoul de Fulke and the Lord St. John, heedless of hind and
hart, conferred; and Marmaduke, much bewildered, and bitterly wroth with
Sibyll, went his way.

CHAPTER IX. THE GREAT ACTOR RETURNS TO FILL THE STAGE.

And now in various groups these summer foresters were at rest in their
afternoon banquet,--some lying on the smooth sward around the lake, some
in the tents, some again in the arbours; here and there the forms of
dame and cavalier might be seen, stealing apart from the rest, and
gliding down the alleys till lost in the shade, for under that reign
gallantry was universal. Before the king's pavilion a band of those
merry jongleurs, into whom the ancient and honoured minstrels were fast
degenerating, stood waiting for the signal to commence their sports,
a