of his
niece, Joan Duchess Dowager of York. He found her at work in the midst
of her bower-women; but no sooner did she hear the announcement of her
Most Reverend uncle, than she hurriedly commanded them all to leave the
room.

"Well?" she said breathlessly, as soon as they were alone.

"Thy woman's wit hath triumphed, Joan. 'Twas a brave thought of thine,
touching the Lady Lucy of Milan. The King fell in therewith, like a
fowl into a net."

"Nay, the Lady Lucy was your thought, holy Father; I did but counsel to
tempt him with some other. Then it shall be done?"

"It shall be done."

"Thanks be to All-Hallows!" cried the Duchess, with mirth which it would
scarcely be too strong a term to call fiend-like. "Now shall the proud
minx be brought to lower her lofty head! I hate her!"

"'Tis allowed to hate an heretic," said the Archbishop calmly. "And if
the Lady Le Despenser be no heretic, she hath sorely abused her
opportunities."

"She shall never be Nym's true wife!" cried the Duchess fierily. "I
will not have it! I would sooner follow both her and him to the
churchyard! I hate, I hate her!"

"Thou mayest yet do that following, Joan. But I must not tarry. Peace
be with thee!"

Peace!--of what sort? We are told, indeed, of one who is like a strong
man armed, and who keepeth his goods in peace. And the dead sleep
peacefully enough--not only dead bodies, but dead souls.

The Earl and Countess of Kent had been about a week at Langley, when a
letter arrived from the King, commanding the attendance of the Earl at
Court, as feudal service for one of his estates held on that tenure.
The Countess was not invited to accompany him. The Duke of York seized
his opportunity, for his plot was fully ripe, and suggested that she
should obtain the royal permission to pay a visit to Windsor, where the
hapless heirs of March were imprisoned. Permission to do so was asked
and granted, for the King never suspected his cousin of any sinister
intention.

The Earl set out first for Westminster. Constance stood at her lattice,
and waved a loving farewell to him as he rode away, turning several
times to catch another glimpse of her, and to bend his graceful head in
yet another farewell. He had not quite recovered from the glamour of
his enchantment.

"Farewell!" said the Princess at last, though her husband was far beyond
hearing. "Hark, Maude, to the Priory bells--dost hear them? What say
they to thee? I hear