apprehension in her round rosy
face.

"Nay, burden not me withal, Custance! 'Tis no work of mine. I am but a
messenger."

"Poor fool! I shall not harm thee! But whose messenger art?"

"The King's Grace himself bade me to see thee."

"And tell me _that_?"

"He bade me do thee to wit so much."

"`So much'--how much? What I have heard hath killed me. Hast yet ill
news left to bury me withal?"

"Only this, Custance," replied her cousin in a deprecating tone, "that
sithence, though it were not good by law of holy Church, yet there was
some matter of marriage betwixt thee and my Lord of Kent; and men's
tongues, thou wist, will roll and rumble unseemlily,--it seemed good
unto his Highness that it should be fully exhibit to the world how
little true import were therein; and accordingly he would have thee to
put thine hand to a paper, wherein thou shalt knowledge that the
marriage had betwixt you two was against the law of holy Church, and is
therefore null and void. If thou wilt do the same, I am bid to tell
thee, thou shalt have free liberty to come forth hence, and all lands of
thy dower restored."

"Art at an end?"

"Ay; therewith closeth my commission."

"Then have back at thy leisure, and tell Harry of Bolingbroke from me
that I defy him and Satan his master alike. I will set mine hand to no
such lie, as there is a Heaven above me, and beneath him an Hell!"

"Custance!" remonstrated her cousin in a scandalised tone.

But Constance lifted her head, and flung up her hands towards heaven.

"O God of Paradise!" she cried, "holy and true, just in Thy judgments,
look upon us two--this King and me--and betwixt us judge this day! Look
upon us, Lady of Pity, Lily of Christendom, and say whether of us two is
the sinner! O all ye Angels, all ye Saints in Heaven! that sin not, but
plead for us sinners,--plead ye this day with God that He will render to
each of us two his due, as he hath demerited! Before you, before holy
Church, before God in Heaven, I denounce this man Harry of Bolingbroke!
Render unto him, O Lord! render unto him his desert!"

"Custance, thou mayest better take this matter more meekly," observed
Isabel with quiet propriety, very different from her cousin's tone and
mien of frenzied passion. "I have told thee truth, and no lie. What
should it serve? The priest is excommunicate, and my Lord of Kent shall
wed the Lady Lucy, and the King will have thine hand thereto, ere thou
come forth."