“‘You forget the King,’ I retorted.

“He gave his sneering laugh.  ‘Nay, put no hope in Richard,’ he said.  ’He soon will have enough of his own troubles, and no time to spare for missing maids.  When Buckingham, Stanley, and Darby rise and Richmond lands in England, Richard’s rule is ended.  Then think you the new King will deny me the Countess of Clare for wife—­even though she be a bit unwilling?  Meanwhile, it is already ordered that you be treated as the chatelaine of Roxford.  When next I come it will be to lead you to the altar, by the kind permission of His Gracious Majesty, King Henry.’

“He went out leaving the key in the lock, and after a while he rode away.

“It would be small profit to detail the weeks that followed.  I rarely left this room, though I had the freedom of the castle, and was denied nothing save leave either to pass the gates or to communicate with the outer world.

“Then, one day, I chanced to be at yonder window when Simon Gorges rode from out the gate-arch and across the courtyard; his mount staggering from weariness and both plastered with mud and water.

“That night Gorges carried me to Kirkstall Abbey; some one met him near the gate and I was smuggled, blindfolded, through an underground passage to a small room, furnished in all luxury, and with all the toilet trifles of our sex.  There I abode, seeing no one save a shrewish looking woman who paid no heed to my questions and ignored me utterly.  And on the third evening Lord Darby entered suddenly, and I cried out in sheer surprise and terror.

“‘You are not glad to see me, I fear,’ he said, with his short, sneering laugh.

“I made no answer.  His return could mean only that Richard was dethroned, Henry Tudor, King, and he come to claim me.  My hand sought my hidden dagger; and he must have read my mind, for he laughed again—­Merciful Mother, how I hate that laugh!—­and bade me be easy.

“‘I am here before my time,’ he said.  ’Richard is yet King, and I stand now with him, and am just come from mustering my following at Roxford.  He has promised me your hand when the rebellion is ended.  Therefore, I have you sure, whoever conquers; for in the battle I shall so play as to be with him who wins.’ . . .  He drew back the arras—­then paused as though the thought had just come:  ’Perchance it will interest you to know that a certain Aymer de Lacy has left England and returned to France.’

“‘It is a lie—­a lie of your black heart!’ I cried.

“But he only smiled maliciously and went out.  And thank God, since that evening I have never seen him more.

“And now is my tale most told.  For a week longer I dwelt in that room, and saw no person but my dumb attendant.  At a strange hour on the night of the seventh day, there came a knock at the door and, without staying for permission, a robed figure entered.

“‘Be not alarmed, daughter,’ it said, as I sprang up.  ’I come to take you hence.’