"Anne," said Isabel, when the two girls were alone, "thou hast vexed
my father, and what marvel? If the Lancastrians can be pitied, the
Earl of Warwick must be condemned!"

"Unkind!" said Anne, shedding tears; "I can pity woe and mischance,
without blaming those whose hard duty it might be to achieve them."

"In good sooth cannot I! Thou wouldst pity and pardon till thou
leftst no distinction between foeman and friend, leife and loathing.
Be it mine, like my great father, to love and to hate!"

"Yet why art thou so attached to the White Rose?" said Anne, stung, if
not to malice, at least to archness. "Thou knowest my father's
nearest wish was that his eldest daughter might be betrothed to King
Edward. Dost thou not pay good for evil when thou seest no excellence
out of the House of York?"

"Saucy Anne," answered Isabel, with a half smile, "I am not raught by
thy shafts, for I was a child for the nurses when King Edward sought a
wife for his love. But were I chafed--as I may be vain enough to know
myself--whom should I blame?--Not the king, but the Lancastrian who
witched him!"

She paused a moment, and, looking away, added in a low tone, "Didst
thou hear, sister Anne, if the Duke of Clarence visited my father the
forenoon?"

"Ah, Isabel, Isabel!"

"Ah, sister Anne, sister Anne! Wilt thou know all my secrets ere I