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 Katherine Nevile,--that we
loved, and were severed. They who see us now marvel whether we hate