able weight, a footstep sounded
gently near, and the Lady of Bonville (then on a visit to the queen),
unseen and unheard by the two, approached the spot. She paused, and
gazed at Sibyll, at first haughtily; and then, as the deep sadness of
that young face struck her softer feelings, and the pathetic picture of
father and child, thus alone in their commune, made its pious and sweet
effect, the gaze changed from pride to compassion, and the lady said
courteously,--

"Fair mistress, canst thou prefer this solitary scene to the gay company
about to take the air in her grace's gilded barge?"

Sibyll looked up in surprise, not unmixed with fear. Never before had
the great lady spoken to her thus gently. Adam, who seemed for a while
restored to the actual life, saluted Katherine with simple dignity, and
took up the word,--

"Noble lady, whoever thou art, in thine old age, and thine hour of care,
may thy child, like this poor girl, forsake all gayer comrades for a
parent's side!"

The answer touched the Lady of Bonville, and involuntarily she extended
her hand to Sibyll. With a swelling heart, Sibyll, as proud as herself,
bent silently over that rival's hand. Katherine's marble cheek coloured,
as she interpreted the girl's silence.

"Gentle sir," she said, after a short pause, "wilt thou permit me a few
words with thy fair daughter? And if in aught, since thou speakest of
care, Lord Warwick's sister can serve thee, prithee bid thy young maiden
impart it, as to a friend."

"Tell her, then, my Sibyll,--tell Lord Warwick's sister to ask the king
to give back to Adam Warner his poverty, his labour, and his hope," said
the scholar, and his noble head sank gloomily on his bosom.

The Lady of Bonville, still holding Sibyll's hand, drew her a few paces
up the walk, and then she said suddenly, and with some of that blunt
frankness which belonged to her great brother, "Maiden, can there be
confidence between thee and me?"

"Of what nature, lady?"

Again Katherine blushed, but she felt the small hand she held tremble in
her clasp, and was emboldened,--

"Maiden, thou mayst resent and marvel at my words; but when I had fewer
years than thou, my father said, 'There are many carks in life which a
little truth could end.' So would I heed his lesson. William de Hastings
has followed thee with an homage that has broken, perchance, many as
pure a heart,--nay, nay, fair child, hear me on. Thou hast heard that in
youth he wooed Kather