there been
one as fair. And--more unusual still--she was as good as she was
beautiful. The worst loss in all her husband's life was the loss of
her.

So far from seeing any sorrow looming in the future was King Edward at
this moment, that he was extremely jubilant over a project which he had
just brought to a successful issue.

"There!" said he, rubbing his hands in supreme satisfaction, "that
parchment settles the business. When both my brother of Scotland and I
are gone, our children will reign over one empire, king and queen of
both. Is not that worth living for?"

"_Soit_!" [Be it so] ejaculated De Valence, shrugging his Provencal
shoulders. "A few acres of bare moss and a handful of stags, to say
nothing of the barbarians who dwell up in those misty regions. A fine
matter surely to clap one's hands over!"

"Ah, fair uncle, you never travelled in Scotland," interposed the gentle
Lancaster, before the King could blaze up, "and you know not what sort
of country it is. From what I have heard, it would easily match your
land in respect of beauty."

"Match Poitou? or Provence? Cousin, you must have taken leave of your
senses. You were not born on the banks of the Isere, or you would not
chatter such treason as that."

"Truly no, fair Uncle, for I was born in the City of London, just
beyond," said Lancaster, with a good-humoured laugh; "and, verily, that
would rival neither Scotland nor Poitou, to say nothing of Dauphine and
Provence. The goddess of beauty was not in attendance when I was born."

Perhaps few would have ventured on that assertion except himself.
Edmund of Lancaster was among the most handsome of our princes.

"Beshrew you both!" cried King Edward, unfraternally; "wherever will
these fellows ramble with their tongues? Who said anything about
beauty? I care not, I, if the maiden Margaret were the ugliest lass
that ever tied a kerchief, so long as she is the heiress of Scotland.
Ned has beauty enough and to spare; let him stare in the glass if he
cannot look at his wife."

The Queen looked up with an amused expression, and would, perhaps, have
spoken, had not the tapestry been lifted by some person unseen, and a
little boy of six years old bounded into the room.

No wonder that the fire in the King's eyes died into instant softness.
It would have been a wonder if the parents had not been proud of that
boy, for he was one of the loveliest children on whom human eye ever
rested. Did