per. It was signed in regal
form, without a surname.

"There!" she cried passionately: "behold all ye get of me! If I may not
sign `Custance Kent,' content you with `Custance.' Never `Custance Le
Despenser!' My Lord was true to his heart's core; and never sign I
_his_ name to a dishonour and a lie!--O my Dickon, my pretty, pretty
Dickon! thou little knowest the price thine hapless mother hath paid for
thee this day!"

Henry the Fourth was not a man who loved cruelty for its own sake: he
was simply a calculating, politic one. He never wasted power on
unnecessary torture. When his purpose was served, he let his victim go.

"Fully enough, fair Cousin!" he said with apparent kindness. "You sign
as a Prince's daughter--and such are you. We thank you right heartily
for this your wise submission, and as you shall shortly see, you shall
not lose thereby."

Not another word was said about her presence at the wedding. That
would, come later. His present object was to get her to London. The
evening of the 17th of November saw them at Westminster Palace.

During the journey, Avice carefully avoided any private intercourse with
Maude. The latter tried once or twice to renew the interrupted
conversation; but it was either dinner-time, or it was prayer-time, or
there was some excellent reason why Avice could not listen. And at last
Maude resigned the hope. They never met again. But one winter day,
eighteen years later, Maude Lyngern heard that Sister Avice, of the
Minoresses' house at Aldgate, had died in the odour of sanctity; and
that the sisters were not without hope that the holy Father might
pronounce her a saint, or at least "beata." It was added that she had
worn herself to a skeleton by fasting, and for three weeks before her
death had refused all sustenance but the sacrament, which she received
daily. And that was the last of Cousin Hawise.

We return from this digression to Westminster Palace.

News met them as they stepped over the threshold--news of death.
Alianora, Countess of March, sister of Kent, and mother of the
Mortimers, had died at Powys Castle.

When Custance reached the chamber allotted to her at Westminster, she
found there all the personal property which she had left at Langley
twelve months earlier.

"Maude!" she said that night, as she laid her head on the pillow.

"Lady?" was the response.

"To-morrow make thou ready for me my widow's garb. I shall never wear
any other again.