of
that old man upon the gates of York, could by word or deed abet the
cause of usurping and bloody Lancaster,--I would--I would--Out upon my
sex! I could do nought but weep the glory of Nevile and Monthermer gone
forever."

Before Richard could reply, the sound of musical instruments, and a
procession of heralds and pages proceeding from the palace, announced
the approach of Edward. He caught the hand of the dame of Bonville,
lifted it to his lips, and saying, "May fortune one day permit me to
face as the earl's son the earl's foes," made his graceful reverence,
glided from the garden, gained his barge, and was rowed to the huge pile
of Baynard's Castle, lately reconstructed, but in a gloomy and barbaric
taste, and in which, at that time, he principally resided with his
mother, the once peerless Rose of Raby.

The Lady of Bonville paused a moment, and in that pause her countenance
recovered its composure. She then passed on, with a stately step,
towards a group of the ladies of the court, and her eye noted with proud
pleasure that the highest names of the English knighthood and nobility,
comprising the numerous connections of her family, formed a sullen
circle apart from the rest, betokening, by their grave countenances and
moody whispers, how sensitively they felt the slight to Lord Warwick's
embassy in the visit of the Count de la Roche, and how little they were
disposed to cringe to the rising sun of the Woodvilles. There, collected
into a puissance whose discontent hard sufficed to shake a firmer throne
(the young Raoul de Fulke, the idolater of Warwick, the impersonation in
himself of the old Norman seignorie, in their centre), with folded arms
and lowering brows, stood the earl's kinsmen, the Lords Fitzhugh and
Fauconberg: with them, Thomas Lord Stanley, a prudent noble, who rarely
sided with a malcontent, and the Lord St. John, and the heir of the
ancient Bergavennies, and many another chief, under whose banner marched
an army. Richard of Gloucester had shown his wit in refusing to mingle
in intrigues which provoked the ire of that martial phalanx. As the Lady
of Bonville swept by these gentlemen, their murmur of respectful homage,
their profound salutation, and unbonneted heads, contrasted forcibly
with the slight and grave, if not scornful, obeisance they had just
rendered to one of the queen's sisters, who had passed a moment before
in the same direction. The lady still moved on, and came suddenly across
th