taking her
sister's hand, said in a voice of touching solemnity, "Promise, then,
that the secret shall be ever holy; and, since I know that it will move
thine anger--perhaps thy scorn--strive to forget what I will confess to
thee."

Isabel for answer pressed her lips on the hand she held; and the
sisters, turning under the shadow of a long row of venerable oaks,
placed themselves on a little mound, fragrant with the violets of
spring. A different part of the landscape beyond was now brought in
view; calmly slept in the valley the roofs of the subject town of
Middleham, calmly flowed through the pastures the noiseless waves of
Ure. Leaning on Isabel's bosom, Anne thus spake, "Call to mind, sweet
sister, that short breathing-time in the horrors of the Civil War, when
a brief peace was made between our father and Queen Margaret. We were
left in the palace--mere children that we were--to play with the young
prince, and the children in Margaret's train."

"I remember."

"And I was unwell and timid, and kept aloof from the sports with a girl
of my own years, whom I think--see how faithful my memory!--they called
Sibyll; and Prince Edward, Henry's son, stealing from the rest, sought
me out; and we sat together, or walked together alone, apart from all,
that day and the few days we were his mother's guests. Oh, if you could
have seen him and heard him then,--so beautiful, so gentle, so wise
beyond his years, and yet so sweetly sad; and when we parted, he bade me
ever love him, and placed his ring on my finger, and wept,--as we kissed
each other, as children will."

"Children! ye were infants!" exclaimed Isabel, whose wonder seemed
increased by this simple tale.

"Infant though I was, I felt as if my heart would break when I left him;
and then the wars ensued; and do you not remember how ill I was, and
like to die, when our House triumphed, and the prince and heir of
Lancaster was driven into friendless exile? From that hour my fate was
fixed. Smile if you please at such infant folly, but children often feel
more deeply than later years can weet of."

"My sister, this is indeed a wilful invention of sorrow for thine own
scourge. Why, ere this, believe me, the boy-prince hath forgotten thy
very name."

"Not so, Isabel," said Anne, colouring, and quickly, "and perchance, did
all rest here, I might have outgrown my weakness. But last year, when we
were at Rouen with my father--"

"Well?"

"One evening on entering my c