the
day before. They were seated on a rude bench in an angle of the wall,
flanked by a low, heavy bastion. And from the parapet their gaze might
have wandered over a goodly sight, for on a broad space, covered with
sand and sawdust, within the vast limits of the castle range, the
numerous knights and youths who sought apprenticeship in arms and
gallantry under the earl were engaged in those martial sports which,
falling elsewhere in disuse, the Last of the Barons kinglily maintained.
There, boys of fourteen, on their small horses, ran against each other
with blunted lances. There, those of more advanced adolescence, each
following the other in a circle, rode at the ring; sometimes (at the
word of command from an old knight who had fought at Agincourt, and was
the preceptor in these valiant studies) leaping from their horses at
full speed, and again vaulting into the saddle. A few grim old warriors
sat by to censure or applaud. Most skilled among the younger was the son
of Lord Montagu; among the maturer, the name of Marmaduke Nevile was the
most often shouted. If the eye turned to the left, through the barbican
might be seen flocks of beeves entering to supply the mighty larder;
and at a smaller postern, a dark crowd of mendicant friars, and the more
destitute poor, waited for the daily crumbs from the rich man's table.
What need of a poor-law then? The baron and the abbot made the parish!
But not on these evidences of wealth and state turned the eyes, so
familiar to them, that they woke no vanity, and roused no pride.

With downcast looks and a pouting lip, Isabel listened to the silver
voice of Anne.

"Dear sister, be just to Clarence. He cannot openly defy his king and
brother. Believe that he would have accompanied our uncle and cousin had
he not deemed that their meditation would be more welcome, at least to
King Edward, without his presence."

"But not a letter! not a line!"

"Yet when I think of it, Isabel, are we sure that he even knew of the
visit of the archbishop and his brother?"

"How could he fail to know?"

"The Duke of Gloucester last evening told me that the king had sent him
southward."

"Was it about Clarence that the duke whispered to thee so softly by the
oriel window?"

"Surely, yes," said Anne, simply. "Was not Richard as a brother to us
when we played as children on yon greensward?"

"Never as a brother to me,--never was Richard of Gloucester one whom
I could think of without fear and