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Though strongly resembling her mother and sister in colour and features, the expression of her face was entirely different from either. The piquancy of the elder sister was wholly absent in the younger, and was replaced by a mixture of gentleness and dignity. Very queenly she was—not in the false sense of pride, of which there was none about her: but in the true sense of that innate kingliness of soul which can tolerate nothing evil, and can stoop to nothing mean. A lily among thorns was sweet Anne Neville. And the thorns sprang up, and choked it. She stood now just

"Where the brook and river meet,

Womanhood and childhood fleet"—

but in the path to be pursued a turn as yet hid the river from view, and she who was so soon to be borne down it could see nothing of the roaring cascade and the black pool beneath, where the young life was to be crushed out, and the fair soul to be set free. As Frideswide glanced at her, where she sat with her head slightly bent over the broidery, and a sunbeam lighting up her shining hair, she thought no face so attractive had ever yet crossed her path in life.

"Tib, draw thou the curtain across," said Mother Bonham. "The sun cometh too hot on my Lady Anne, I reckon."

Theobalda obeyed in silence, while Lady Anne looked up and smiled thanks.

"Tib is the best to do it," remarked Eleanor, laughing a little, "for she is highest of all us. I do believe she should mete to twice of you, Mother."

"'Good stuff's lapped up in little parcels,' Nell," was Mother Bonham's good-tempered answer.

Conversation flagged after this. Perhaps work went on the better for it. Supper was announced in an hour, which was served in the hall, Frideswide, as the newest arrival, being seated last of the chamberers, and next to the Earl's squires. She found her neighbour decidedly communicative. From him she learned that the Countess was not ill to please, which was more than could be said for my Lady of Clarence; but my Lady Anne was the sweetest maid in the world. As to my Lord,—with a little shrug of the squire's shoulders—why, he was in his element in the midst of a battle, and not anywhere else. Rather just a little queer-tempered—you had to find out in a morning whether he had got out of bed on the right side or the wrong. In the former case, he could be very pleasant indeed: but in the latter—well, least said was soonest mended.