I

abroken. The bishop puts her in remembrance how she as born,-what kin and friends she has And ye shall ave more, young lady, if ye will be ruled and guided after iem. But if ye will not, what rebuke, and loss, and shame ill be yours! They will evermore forsake you, for any od, or help, or comfort that ye shall have of them. Be ell advised. I have heard say that ye love one that our friends are not well pleased that ye should love. Be lvised-be right well advised.'

I am the betrothed wife of Richard Calle. I must eave to him for better for worse.'

'Rehearse to me what you said to him. Let me underand if it makes matrimony.'

'We have plighted our troth--we are handfasted. How n I repeat the words? Richard said-Oh, my lord! are me. I am bound in my conscience, whatsoever the ords were. If the very words make not sure, make it, I seech you, surer ere I go hence.'

And then the bishop dismisses the maiden with many

wns.

Richard Calle is summoned. He briefly tells the time d place where the vows were exchanged. The bishop is wildered. He scarcely dare hesitate to confirm the rriage. But the subtle priest is at his side, and he ispers the fearful word of Lollardie.' Then the shop hastily breaks up the court, and says, "That he pposed there should be found other things against him it might cause the letting the marriage; and therefore he uld not be too hasty to give sentence.'

Margery Paston stands again upon her mother's threshold. e aged servant is weeping as he opens the door: 'Oh, dear young mistress! I am commanded to shut this gate inst you.' The figure of Sir James Gloys looms darkly the hall. Begone, mistress!' he exclaims. I will go my grandmother,' sobs out the poor girl. Your grandther banishes you for ever from her presence,' retorts the urlish priest.

it is night. The pride and purity of the unhappy

ONCE UPON A TIME.

Margery forbid her to seek the protection of her
She has been watched. Exhausted and heart-broken
gladly accepts the shelter which Roger Best offers
That shelter becomes her prison.

Here closes the record. But what a successi Shadows is called up by the endorsement of the which tells of these sorrows: They were after gether.' The contract could not be dissolved.

marre

The Pastons can struggle no longer, Caister is y to the Duke of Norfolk for lack of victuals, lack of powder; men's hearts falling, and no surety of re Thus writes John of Gelston. His troubles are not over; for the great Duke harasses him with an appe murder, from the widows of two men that had been at the assault of the castle. But John contrives to the widows, and very shortly is a favourite in the D England in the fifteenth century-men, and women A very singular world the fighting to the death for house and land one day, when the matter is settled, lovingly embracing, the r and the vanquished, till a new dispute sets them fig

castle at Framlingham.

again.

In this interval of family peace, John the younger failed in a love adventure with Mistress Alice Boleyn; some important matters of his own to attend to. He so his brother is negotiating for him with Mistress Katha Dudley. The times are unquiet; and this wooing do prosper. For John has been at the battle of Barnet is hurt with an arrow in the right arm beneath the el But Margaret the Queen. is landed in the west, and Pastons, who have ever been Lancastrians, have still t hopes. John is in a bad plight after the victory of Ed Now, I have neither meat, drink, clothes, leechcraft. money, but upon borrowing; and I have essayed my so far that they begin to fail now in my greatest need to the last, however, John is looking for tidings.' come; for the battle of Tewkesbury has been fought

fri

T

e game is up. It is pleasant to learn that this rash aston escapes very easily; for in a fortnight after the final ruggle, 'Sir Thomas Wingfield sent for me, and let me how that the king had signed my bill of pardon.' Out of e battle-field these Yorkists and Lancastrians were not a nguinary race. When their passions were high, and their irness on, they fought without flinching-a very brave tiless race. They did their work effectually; but that ne, and a head or two upon London bridge, the lords ent quietly back to their castles and the tenants to their oughs. The world would go on in its own way, though 'arwick the king-maker had fought his last fight. And so ›hn Paston, even amidst his tribulation, writes about his wks and his horses; and in another year is very busy bout elections at Norwich. Sir John would be a knight the shire; but my Lord of Suffolk and my Lord of orfolk willed it otherwise; and John of Gelston was fain dismiss his brother's friends, though he had paid nine illings and three half-pence for their entertainment. But y Lady of Norfolk is a firm ally of Sir John; and her ent writes to the bailiff of Maldon, certifying you, that y said lady for her part and for such as be of her council, most agreeable that both ye and all such as be her rmers, and tenants, and well-willers, should give your ice to a worshipful knight, and one of my lady's council, r John Paston.' It is very pleasant to know that, even ur hundred years ago, farmers and tenants were canvassed ost courteously by great duchesses; and that, although y Lords of Suffolk and Norfolk were agreed who should knights of the shire, the burgesses of Maldon required little coaxing even from the castle of Framlingham. uly polite is the great lady. There is no intimidation; threatening to dispossess tenants, or to take away custom >m cheesemongers. The truth is, that the greatest in the ad depended very much upon the good will of the cultitors and the traders; and though they sometimes racked. em by purveyance and other devices, they had to deal th a sturdy race who knew that the toe of the peasant'

ONCE UPON A TIME.

had come near the heel of the courtier.' With all fighting that was going on up and down, the comm were prospering; and thus the great lady's agent, alth he just hints that he is coming for rents, asks the voices of the lieges in the humblest guise, praying th fail not to speed my lady's intention in this matter, intend to do her as great a pleasure as if ye gave her hundred pounds.'

John of Gelston is on with a new love;' albeit we not told how he was off with the old.' Mistress

Boleyn and Mistress Katharine Dudley exeunt. E Mistress Elizabeth Eberton. His 'fantazy' inclines to lady, even if Eberton would not give so much t Mistress Elizabeth his daughter as I might have with other.' The other! John Paston, with his 'tawny furred with black, and his doublet of purple satin, doublet of black satin,' may throw his handkerchief firs

6

t

Ca

te

Gro

nor

Male Costume in the time of Henry VI.

wise

pros

brot

one and then at the other in a very Turk-like and in tible fashion. John is not so nice now as when he vo his sister should not wed for to sell candle and mus

Biste

A

anto

Framlingham.' He requests Sir John, 'ere that ye part out of London to speak with Harry Eberton's wife, per, and to inform her that I am proffered a marriage London which is worth six hundred marks, and better, th whom I prayed you to commune, inasmuch as I ght not tarry in London myself; always reserving that so be that Mrs. Eberton will deal with me, that you ould not conclude in the other place.' Good plain words ese. We do these matters pretty much in the same irit, but our hypocrisy will not permit us to talk of a ly-mother dealing with us. Sir John Paston has no ecure with this matrimonial diplomacy. He is not only commune with the draper's wife, but he is desired to ommune with John Lee and his wife, and to understand w the matter at the Black Friars doth; and that ye will > and speak with the thing herself, and with her father and other.' He means no harm when he calls the young lady a hing-it is a pretty, endearing phrase which shows his ve for six hundred marks. We presume that the thing' is > rival to the draper's daughter. But there is a widow in e wind. Also that it like you to speak to your apothery, which was sometime the Earl of Warwick's apothery, and to weet of him what the widow of the Black iars is worth, and what her husband's name was--he can 1 all for he is executor to the widow's husband.' John s marked the widow down, though he does not even Low her name. A few months before, he was unlucky th a widow, for his brother writes to him, 'I have done y devoir to know my lady Walgrave's stomach, which, as od help me, and to be plain to you, I find in her no matter r cause that I might take comfort of. She will in no ise receive nor keep your ring.' But there is comfort in ospect. Nothing discouraged, John now writes to his other, I understand that Mistress Fitzwalter hath a ster, a maid, to marry; I trow an ye entreated him, she ight come into Christian man's hands; I pray you speak ith Master Fitzwalter of that matter.' She does not come to the hands of that disinterested Christian, John Paston;