understood justice. And his
mercy, to any Lollard, convicted or suspected, usually meant solitary
confinement in a prison cell. What inducement was there for Custance to
throw herself on such mercy as that? Nor was she further encouraged by
hearing of another outbreak on behalf of King Richard or the Earl of
March, headed by Archbishop Scrope and Lord Mowbray, and the heads of
the ringleaders had fallen on the scaffold.

Isabel had sat and talked for an hour without winning any answer beyond
monosyllables. She was busy with her rosary--a new coral one--while she
unfolded her budget of news, and tried to persuade her cousin into
compliance with the King's wish. The last bead was just escaping from
her fingers with an Amen, when Custance turned to her with a direct
question.

"Now speak plainly, fair Cousin;--what wouldst have me to do?"

"In good sooth, to put thee in the King's mercy."

"In _his_ mercy!" murmured the prisoner significantly. "The which
should be--wist how much?"

"Truly, to free thee hence, and thou shouldst go up to London to wait
upon his Grace."

"And then--?"

Isabel knew what the King intended to exact, but the time was not yet
come to say too much, lest Custance should be alarmed and draw back
altogether. So she replied evasively--

"Then his Highness should restore to thee thy lands, on due submission
done."

"And yield me back my childre?"

"Most surely."

A knot was tied upon Isabel's memory, unknown to her cousin. If
Custance cared much for her children, they might prove a most effective
instrument of torture.

"Well!--and then?"

"Nay, ask at thine own self. Me supposeth thou shouldst choose to
return to thine own Castle of Cardiff. But if it pleased thee rather to
abide in the Court, I cast no doubt--"

"Let be!--and then?"

"Then, in very deed," resumed Isabel, warming with her subject, "thou
shouldst have chance to make good alliance for Nib and Dickon, and see
them well set in fair estate."

"Ah!--and then?"

"Why, then thou mayest match thy grandchildre yet better," answered
Isabel, laughing.

"And after all, Isabel," returned Custance, in a manner much graver than
was usual with her, "there abideth yet one further _then_--death, and
God's judgment."

"Holy Mary aid us!--avaunt with such thoughts!"

"Canst thou avaunt with such thoughts, child?" said Custance, with a
heavy sigh. "Ah me! they come unbidden, when the shadows of night be
over the sou