only comment on the remarks was a quiet, incredulous shrug
of her shoulders. She knew her father.

And she was right. Like many another, literally and figuratively, York
went over to the enemy's ground to parley, and ended in staying there.
One of the two was talked over--but that one was not the rebel, but the
Regent.

Poor York! Looking back on those days, out of the smoke of the battle,
one sees him a man so wretchedly weak and incapable that it is hardly
possible to be angry with him. It does not appear to have been
conviction, nor cowardice, nor choice in any sense, which caused his
desertion, but simply his miserable incapacity to stand alone, or to
resist the influence of any stronger character on either side. _He_ go
to parley with the enemy! He might as well have sent his baby grandson
to parley with a box of sugar-plums.

Fresh news--always bad news--now came into Cardiff nearly every day.

The King hurried back from Ireland to Conway, and there gathered his
loyal peers around him. There were only sixteen of them. Dorset,
always on the winning side, deserted the sinking ship at once. Aumerle
more prudently waited to see which side would eventually prove the
winner.

Exeter and Surrey were sent to parley with the traitors. They were both
detained, Surrey as a prisoner, Exeter with a show of friendship. The
latter was too fertile in resources, and too eloquent in speech, not to
be a dangerous foe. He was therefore secured while the opportunity
offered.

Then came the treacherous Northumberland as ambassador from Hereford,
whom we must henceforth designate by his new title of Lancaster.

Northumberland's lips dropped honey, but war was in his heart. He
offered the sweetest promises. What did they cost? They were made to
be broken. So gentle, so affectionate were his solicitations to the
royal hart to enter the leopard's den--so ready was he to pledge word
and oath that Lancaster was irrevocably true and faithful--that the King
listened, and believed him. He set forth with his little guard,
quitting the stronghold of Flint Castle, and in the gorge of Gwrych he
was met by Northumberland and his army, seized, and carried a prisoner
to Chester.

This was the testing moment for the hitherto loyal sixteen. Aumerle,
who had satisfied himself now which way the game was going, went over to
his cousin at once. Worcester broke his white wand of office, and
retired from the contest. Some fled in