Maude fancied that Avice eschewed any renewal of intercourse with her. She kept herself strictly secluded in the chamber which had been allotted to the nuns; and since Maude had no power to pass beyond the door of the guard-room, the choice lay in Avice's own hands. At neither of the subsequent interviews was she present. "Well, fair Cousin! what cheer?" was Isabel's greeting, when she presented herself anew. "Thus much," replied Custance; "that, leave given, I will go with thee to London." "Well said!" was the answer, in a tone which intimated that it was more than Isabel expected. "But mark me, Isabel! I byhote [promise] nought beyond." "Oh ay!--well and good." "And for thus much yielding, I demand to have again the keeping of my childre." "Good lack! thou treatest with the King's Grace as though thou wert queen of some land thyself," said Isabel, with a little laugh. "Verily, that goeth beyond my commission: but methinks I can make bold to say thus much: that an' thou come with me, they shall be suffered at the least to see thee and speak with thee." Custance shook her head decidedly. "That shall not serve." "Nay, then, we be again at a point. I can but give mine avisement unto thee to come thither and see." The point was sturdily fought over on both sides. Isabel dared promise nothing more than that Custance should be allowed to see her children, and that she herself would do her utmost to obtain further concessions. At last it was settled that the King should be appealed to, and the request urged upon him by his emissary, by letter. Isabel, however, was evidently gifted with no slight ambassadorial powers; for when she selected Bertram Lyngern as her messenger, the Governor did not hesitate to let him go. But Bertram's projected journey never took place, for a most unexpected event intervened to stop it. It was the seventh of November, and a warm, close, damp day, inducing languor and depression in any person sensitive to the influence of weather. Custance and Maude had received no visit that day from any one but Bertram, who was busy preparing for his journey. There were frequent comers and goers to Kenilworth Castle, so that the sound of a bugle-horn without was likely to cause no great curiosity; nor, as Custance's drawing-room window opened on a little quiet corner of the inner court-yard, did she often witness the arrival of guests. So that three horns rang out on that afternoon without awakening more than a passing wonder "who it might be;" and when an unusual commotion was heard in the guard-room, the cause remained unsurmised. But when the door of the drawing-room was opened, a most unexpected sight dawned on the eyes of the prisoners. Unannounced and completely unlooked-for, in the doorway stood Henry of Bolingbroke, the King.