d in the head that
wins it!"

As the duchess spoke, her eyes flashed and her form dilated. Her beauty
seemed almost terrible.

The gentle Anne gazed and shuddered; but ere she found words to rebuke,
the lovely shape of the countess-mother was seen moving slowly towards
them. She was dressed in her robes of state to receive her kingly guest;
the vest fitting high to the throat, where it joined the ermine tippet,
and thickly sown with jewels; the sleeves tight, with the second or over
sleeves, that, loose and large, hung pendent and sweeping even to the
ground; and the gown, velvet of cramousin, trimmed with ermine,--made a
costume not less graceful than magnificent, and which, where compressed,
set off the exquisite symmetry of a form still youthful, and where
flowing added majesty to a beauty naturally rather soft and feminine
than proud and stately. As she approached her children, she looked
rather like their sister than their mother, as if Time, at least, shrunk
from visiting harshly one for whom such sorrows were reserved.

The face of the countess was so sad in its aspect of calm and sweet
resignation that even the proud Isabel was touched; and kissing her
mother's hand, she asked if any ill tidings preceded her father's
coming.

"Alas, my Isabel, the times themselves are bad tidings! Your youth
scarcely remembers the days when brother fought against brother, and
the son's sword rose against the father's breast. But I, recalling them,
tremble to hear the faintest murmur that threatens a civil war." She
paused, and forcing a smile to her lips, added, "Our woman fears must
not, however, sadden our lords with an unwelcome countenance; for men
returning to their hearths have a right to a wife's smile; and so,
Isabel, thou and I, wives both, must forget the morrow in to-day. Hark!
the trumpets sound near and nearer! let us to the hall."

Before, however, they had reached the castle, a shrill blast rang at the
outer gate. The portcullis was raised; the young Duke of Clarence, with
a bridegroom's impatience, spurred alone through the gloomy arch, and
Isabel, catching sight of his countenance lifted towards the ramparts,
uttered a cry, and waved her hand. Clarence beard and saw, leaped from
his steed, and had clasped Isabel to his breast, almost before Anne or
the countess had recognized the new comer.

Isabel, however, always stately, recovered in an instant from the joy
she felt at her lord's return, and gently esc