let that one be me."

[Note 1.]

The pedlar, Abraham, declined to remain at the Castle. There were
plenty of places, he said, where an old man could be safe: it was quite
another thing for a young girl. If his gracious Lady would of her
bounty give his bird shelter until the riot and its consequences were
over, and every thing peaceable again, Abraham would come and fetch her
as soon as he deemed it thoroughly prudent. Meanwhile, Belasez could
work for the Lady. The Countess was only too pleased to procure such
incomparable embroidery on such easy terms. She set Belasez to work on
the border of an armilaus, intended as a present for the new Queen: for
the hitherto unmarriageable King had at last found a Princess to accept
him. She was the second daughter of a penniless Provencal Count; but
she was a great beauty, though an extremely young girl; and her eldest
sister was Queen of France. She proved a costly bargain. Free from all
visible vices except two, which, unfortunately, were two cultivated by
Henry himself--unscrupulous acquisition and reckless extravagance--she
nevertheless contrived to do terrible mischief, by giving her husband no
advice in general, and bad advice whenever she gave it in particular.
His ivy-like nature wanted a strong buttress upon which to lean; and
Eleonore of Provence was neither stronger nor more stable than himself.
Her one idea of life was to enjoy herself to the utmost. When she
wanted a new dress, she had not the slightest notion of waiting till she
had money to pay for it. What were the people of England in her eyes,
but machines for making it--things to be taxed--a vast and inexhaustible
treasury, of which you did but turn the handle, and coins came showering
out?

So the tax-gatherers went grinding on, and the land cried to God, and
the Court heard no sound. The man who was to be God's avenger upon them
was an obscure foreigner as yet. And the English noble who above all
others was to aid him in that vengeance, was still only a fair-haired
youth of fifteen, whose thoughts were busy with a very different
subject. But out of the one, the other was to grow, watered by tears
and blood.

He was standing--young Richard de Clare--in one of the recessed windows
of the great hall, with Margaret beside him. They were talking in very
low tones. Richard's manner was pleading and earnest, while Margaret's
eyes were cast down, and she was diligently winding round her finger a