from his maternal grandfather, Richard, as his next male relative, was placed in the position of Regent: a state of things so entirely suited to his wishes that when, the King having recovered, he was summoned to resign his charge, Richard coolly expressed his perfect satisfaction with the position of governor, and his intention to remain such, since he considered himself to be, as heir general of Duke Lionel, much more rightfully King of England than the cousin who had displaced him.

[#] Edmund Duke of York.

The first sensation of Henry VI., on hearing this calm assertion of Richard, was simply one of unbounded amazement.

"My grandfather," said he, "held the crown for twelve years, and my father for ten, and I have held it for twenty-three: and all that time you and your fathers have kept silence, and not one word of this have I ever heard before. What mean you, fair cousin, to prefer such a claim against the Lord's Anointed?"

It was not quite the fact that Richard's fathers had kept absolute silence, since his uncle, Edmund Earl of March, had been put forward as a claimant for the throne, just fifty years before:[#] but in all probability the King was entirely justified in stating that the idea was new to him. It is not likely that those about him from infancy would have allowed him to become familiar with it, since his delicate sense of right and justice was—in their eyes—the most tiresome thing about him. But the question was not in his hands for decision. Had it been so, no man would ever have heard of the Wars of the Roses. King Henry "had no sense of honour," which probably means that ambition, self-seeking, and aggressiveness were feelings utterly unknown to him. "Yea, let him take all," would have been the language of his lips and heart, so long as he had left to him a quiet home in some green nook of England, the wife and child whom he dearly loved, a few books, and peace. At times God's providence decrees peace as the lot of such men. At other rimes it seems to be the one thing with which they must not be trusted. They are tossed perpetually on the waves of this troublesome world, "emptied from vessel to vessel," never suffered to rest. This last was the destiny of Henry VI. For him, it was the way home to the Land of Peace, where there is no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying. For four hundred years his spirit has dwelt in the eternal peace of Paradise; God has comforted him for ever.

[#] A full account of this transaction will be found in "The White Rose of Langley."

It was an unfortunate thing for Richard of York that he had married a woman who acted toward his ambitious aspirations not as a bridle, but as a spur. Cicely Neville, surnamed from her great beauty The Rose of Raby, was a woman who, like two of her descendants, would have "died to-morrow to be a queen to-day," and would have preferred "to eat dry bread at a king's table, rather than feast at the board of an elector."[#] Of all members of the royal family of England, this lady is to my knowledge the only one who ever styled herself in her own charters "the right high and right excellent Princesse." The Rose of Raby was not the only title given her. To the vulgar in the neighbourhood where her youth was spent she was also known as Proud Cis. And every act of her life tends to show the truth of the title.

[#] The words first quoted were spoken by Anne Princess of Orange, eldest daughter of George II.; the latter by Elizabeth Queen of Bohemia, eldest daughter of James I.

It was at the battle of St. Albans—the first fought between the rival Roses—that Dorathie's grandfather had been killed; the husband of the stately old lady who remained head of the household at Lovell Tower. His barony descended to his only daughter Margery, who, after a good deal of hesitation among rival suitors who greatly admired her title and fortune, had gradually awoke to the discovery that she liked nobody quite so well as her old friend John Marston, though he was nearly twice her age, and a widower with three children. So on him, with the full consent of her mother, she bestowed hand and heart, title and fortune; the former being in his eyes, alone of all her lovers, more valuable than the latter. In her right he became Lord Marnell of Lymington, for until a comparatively recent period the title of a peeress in her own right was held to become the property of her husband as absolutely as her goods, and was conferred by courtesy, as a matter of necessity, upon any second wife whom he might marry. Two more children—Dorathie and Ralph—were added to the family: but only the former now survived. It will thus be seen that Frideswide and Agnes were half-sisters of Dorathie. The other member of the family not yet introduced was Walter, the eldest son. He was at present a young squire in the household of Queen Marguerite.

Every soul at Lovell Tower was passionately Lancastrian. To them Henry VI. was The King, and Edward IV. was "the rebel." In the house of the next knight, half a mile away, the conditions were reversed: and the two families, who had been old and firm friends, now passed each other on the road with no notice whatever. Very painful was this state of things to the Lady Idonia, the only sister of four brothers thus placed at variance. Her two younger brothers, Maurice and William, were still on good terms with her, for they were Lancastrians like herself. But the Carew family was one of those which the political earthquake had shattered, and Hugh and Thomas were determined Yorkists. It was the sadder—or should have been,—since the younger Lady Marnell had been educated under the roof of her Uncle Hugh, during the prolonged residence of her parents at the Court of Scotland. Fortunately or unfortunately, Uncle Hugh and Aunt Mabel had contrived to impress themselves on the mind of young Margery in no other character than that of live barricades against the accomplishment of all her wishes. To be otherwise than on speaking terms with them, therefore, was a much smaller calamity to Margery than to her mother. The Lady Idonia used to sigh heavily when their names were mentioned. Yet to keep up the friendship would have been no easy matter. Hugh Carew was granite where his convictions were concerned; and not content with following them himself, he insisted on imposing them on every body who came near him. It would have been in his eyes a matter of principle not to allow his sister or his niece to speak of "the King" or "the rebel," without letting them see that he wilfully misunderstood the allusion. Idonia merely sighed ever this piece of perversity, while yet their intercourse remained unbroken: but Margery was apt to flare up and make an open breach of the peace. It certainly was trying, when she spoke of the King (meaning Henry VI.) as in Scotland, to be reminded in a cold, precise tone, slightly astonished, that she had unaccountably forgotten that His Highness was at Westminster. It is not therefore to be wondered at, if Margery felt the open hostility rather a relief than a burden, while her mother grieved over it in secret.

"'Tis strange gear," the Lady Idonia would sometimes say, "that men cannot think alike."

"Nay, fair Sister, why should they so?" was her brother William's answer. "This were tame world if no man saw by his own eyes, but all after a pattern."

"That