Isabel trembled violently, and her cheek turned ashy pale.
"It is enough," said Dacre, with a quivering lip; "I am answered! That memory could never be banished from your heart. It is enough!"
"Oh, no, no!" cried Isabel; but, as will almost always happen when a word may make all clear, an interruption came; before she could go on, good old Sir Philip Beauchamp was seen upon the steps of the house, waving them to come back, with a loud "Halloo!"
They both turned, and walked towards the hall in silence. Isabel would fain have spoken, but agitation overpowered her. She wished that Dacre, by a single word, would give her an opportunity of reply; but his over-sensitive heart was convinced of her feelings--reading them all wrong; and he would not force her to speak what he thought must be painful for her to utter, and for him to hear. Twice she made up her mind to explain, but twice her heart failed her at the moment of execution; and it was not till they were within a few steps of the place where her father stood, that she could say, in a low voice, "You are mistaken, Harry; indeed you are mistaken!"
He shook his head with a bitter smile, and walked on in silence.
At the hour appointed by the King, Richard of Woodville arrived at the palace, and was at once introduced to Henry's presence. The monarch was now quite alone, and seemed in a more cheerful, a less meditative mood, than the day before. "Well, Richard," he said, "how sped you last night? you found room in hall, and a place at board, I trust?"
"I did, Sire," replied Woodville; "and so long as I was here 'twas well; but as I returned homeward to my hostel, I saw that done which grieved me, and would grieve your Highness, too, were it told."
"Speak it, speak it," said the King; "I am now in that station where every day I must hear that which offends my ear, if I would perform the first duty of a king, and render justice to my people. What is this you saw?"
Briefly and accurately Richard of Woodville, as he had previously determined, related to the monarch the facts attending the death of the old minstrel, by the brutal act of Sir Simeon of Roydon, and his companions; and he could see Henry's brow gather into a heavy frown, and his cheek flush. When he had done, the King rose from his chair, before he spoke, and walked twice across the small chamber in which the young gentleman had found him.