rovision, served up in by no means an unrefined manner, even to the
multitudinous servants and retainers of the various trains; and beyond,
on the steps and in the court, were a swarm of pilgrims, friars, poor,
and beggars of all kinds, waiting for the fragments.

It was a wet evening, and when the tables were drawn the guests devoted
themselves to various amusements. Lord Salisbury challenged Sir Patrick
to a game at chess, Lady Salisbury and Dame Lilias wished for nothing
better than to converse over old times at Middleham Castle; but the
younger people began with dancing, the Duke, who was only thirty years
old, leading out the elder Scottish princess, and the young King of the
Isle of Wight the stately and beautiful Duchess Cicely. Eleanor,
who knew she did not excel in anything that required grace, and was,
besides, a good deal fatigued, would fain have excused herself when
paired with the young Richard Nevil; but there was a masterful look
about him that somewhat daunted her, and she obeyed his summons, though
without acquitting herself with anything approaching to the dexterity
of her sister, who, with quite as little practice as herself, danced
well--by quickness of eye and foot, and that natural elegance of
movement which belongs to symmetry.

The dance was a wreathing in and out of the couples, including all
of rank to dance together, and growing more and more animated, till
excitement took the place of weariness; and Eleanor's pale cheeks were
flushed, her eyes glowing, when the Duchess's signal closed the dance.

Music was then called for, and several of the princely company sang to
the lute; Jean, pleased to show there was something in which her sister
excelled, and gratified at some recollections that floated up of her
father's skill in minstrelsy, insisted on sending for Eleanor's harp.

'Oh, Jean, not now; I canna,' murmured Eleanor, who had been sitting
with fixed eyes, as though in a dream.

But the Duke and other nobles came and pressed her, and Jean whispered
to her not to show herself a fule body, and disgrace herself before
the English, setting the harp before her and attending to the strings.
Eleanor's fingers then played over them in a dreamy, fitful way, that
made the old Earl raise his head and say--

'That twang carries me back to King Harry's tent, and the good old time
when an Englishman's sword was respected.'

''Tis the very harp,' said Sir Patrick; 'ay, and the very tune--'

'Come