In the midst of the exchange of affectionate but formal greetings a cry of joy was heard, “My Grisell! yes, it is my Grisell!” and springing from the midst of her mother’s suite, Margaret Plantagenet, a tall, lovely, dark-haired girl, threw her arms round the thin slight maiden with the scarred face, which excited the scorn and surprise of her two sisters. “Margaret! What means this?” demanded the Duchess severely. “It is my Grisell Dacre, fair mother, my dear companion at my aunt of Salisbury’s manor,” said Margaret, trying to lead forward her shrinking friend. “She who was so cruelly scathed.” Grisell curtsied low, but still hung back, and Lord Warwick briefly explained. “Daughter to Will Dacre of Whitburn, a staunch baron of the north. My mother bestowed her at Wilton, whence the creature of the Pope’s intruding Abbess has taken upon him to expel her. So I am about to take her to Middleham, where my mother may see to her further bestowal.” “We have even now come from Middleham,” said the Duchess. “My Lord Duke sent for me, but he looks to you, my lord, to compose the strife between your father and the insolent Percies.” The Duke was at Windsor with the poor insane King, and the Earl and the Duchess plunged into a discussion of the latest news of the northern counties and of the Court. The elder daughters were languidly entertained by the Countess, but no one disturbed the interview of Margaret and Grisell, who, hand in hand, had withdrawn into the embrasure of a window, and there fondled each other, and exchanged tidings of their young lives, and Margaret told of friends in the Nevil household. All too soon the interview came to an end. The Duchess, after partaking of a manchet, was ready to proceed to Baynard’s Castle, and the Lady Margaret was called for. Again, in spite of surprised, not to say displeased looks, she embraced her dear old playfellow. “Don’t go into a convent, Grisell,” she entreated. “When I am wedded to some great earl, you must come and be my lady, mine own, own dear friend. Promise me! Your pledge, Grisell.” There was no time for the pledge. Margaret was peremptorily summoned. They would not meet again. The Duchess’s intelligence had quickened Warwick’s departure, and the next day the first start northwards was to be made.