England were Henry the Second, John, Edward
the First and Second, and Richard the Second. This partly explains the
reason why history (of which monks were mainly the authors) has so
little good to say of any of them, Edward the First only excepted. It
is not easy to say why the exception was made, unless it were because he
was too firmly rooted in popular admiration, and perhaps a little too
munificent to the monastic Orders, for much evil to be discreetly said
of him. Coeur-de-Lion was a Gallio who cared for none of those things:
Henry the Third played into the hands of the Pope to-day, and of the
Anglican Church to-morrow. Edward the Third held the balance as nearly
even as possible. The struggle revived faintly during the reign of
Henry the Sixth, but the Wars of the Roses turned men's minds to home
affairs, and Henry the Seventh was the obedient servant of His Holiness.
So the battle went on, till it culminated in the Reformation. Those
who have never entered into this question, and who assume that all
Englishmen were "Papists" until 1530, have no idea how gallantly the
Church fought for her independent life, and how often she flung from off
her the iron grasp of the oppressor. It was not probable that a
Princess whose fathers had followed the rule of Columba, and lay buried
in Protestant Iona, should have any Roman tendencies on this question.
Marjory was as warm as any one could have wished her.

"Well, then," Margaret went on, "that horrid Bishop of Winchester--"

"Oh, fie!" said her aunt.

"--Came back to England in August. Aunt Marjory, it is no use,--he is
horrid, and I hate him! He hates my fair father. Do you expect me to
love him?"

"Well done, Magot!" said another voice. "When I want a lawyer to plead
my cause, I will send for thee.--Christ save you, fair Sister! I heard
you were here, with this piece of enthusiasm."

Both the girls rose to greet the Earl, Margaret courtesying low as
beseemed a daughter.

It was very evident that, so far as outside appearance went, Margaret
was "only the child of her mother." Earl Hubert was scarcely so tall as
his wife, and he had a bronzed, swarthy complexion, with dark hair.
Though short, he was strongly-built and well-proportioned. His eyes
were dark, small, but quick and exceedingly bright. He had, when
needful, a ready, eloquent tongue and a very pleasant smile. Yet
eloquent as undoubtedly he could be, he was not usually a man of many
words; a