Anne at last with a strong effort suppressed her tears, and, taking
her sister's hand, said in a voice of touching solemnity, "Promise,
then, that the secret shall be ever holy; and, since I know that it
will move thine anger--perhaps thy scorn--strive to forget what I will
confess to thee."

Isabel for answer pressed her lips on the hand she held; and the
sisters, turning under the shadow of a long row of venerable oaks,
placed themselves on a little mound, fragrant with the violets of
spring. A different part of the landscape beyond was now brought in
view; calmly slept in the valley the roofs of the subject town of
Middleham, calmly flowed through the pastures the noiseless waves of
Ure. Leaning on Isabel's bosom, Anne thus spake, "Call to mind, sweet
sister, that short breathing-time in the horrors of the Civil War,
when a brief peace was made between our father and Queen Margaret. We
were left in the palace--mere children that we were--to play with the
young prince, and the children in Margaret's train."

"I remember."

"And I was unwell and timid, and kept aloof from the sports with a
girl of my own years, whom I think--see how faithful my memory!--they
called Sibyll; and Prince Edward, Henry's son, stealing from the rest,
sought me out; and we sat together, or walked together alone, apart
from all, that day and the few days we were his mother's guests. Oh,
if you could have seen him and heard him then,--so beautiful, so
gentle, so wise beyond his years, and yet so sweetly sad; and when we
parted, he bade me ever love him, and placed his ring on my finger,
and wept,--as we kissed each other, as children will."