"I never was an heretic yet, Isabel, but I do thee to wit thou goest the way to make me so. As to holy Church, she never was my mother. I can breathe without her frankincense, belike, and maybe all the freer."

"Alas, Custance! Me feareth sore thou art gone a long way on that ill road, else hadst thou never spoken such unseemly words."

"Be it so!" said Constance, with the recklessness of overwhelming misery. "An heretic's daughter, and an heretic's widow--what less might ye look for? If thou hast mangled mine heart enough to serve thee, Isabel, I would thou wert out of my sight!"

"Fair Cousin, I do ensure thee mine own lieth bleeding for thy pain."

"Ay, forsooth! I see the drops a-dripping!" said Constance in bitter mockery. "Marry, get thee hence--'tis the sole mercy thou canst do me."

"So will I; but, Custance, I ensure thee, I am bidden to abide hither the setting of thine hand to that paper."

"Then haste and bid measure be taken for a coffin, for one shall lack either for thee or me ere thou depart!"

"Alack, alack!"

But Isabel rose and withdrew, signing to her companion to follow. The elder nun, who had not yet finished her rosary, stopped in the middle of a Paternoster, and obeyed.

"Leave me likewise, thou, Maude," said Constance, in a voice in which anguish and languor strove for the predominance.

"Dear my Lady, could I not--?" Maude began pityingly.

"Nay, my good Maude, nought canst thou do. Unless it _were_ true that G.o.d would hearken prayer, and then, perchance--"

"Trust me for that, Lady mine!--Take I the babe withal?"

"Poor little maid!--Ay,--take her to thee."

Maude followed the nuns into the drawing-room. She found the beads-woman still busy, on her knees in the window, and Isabel seated in the one chair sacred to royalty.

"'Tis a soft morrow, Dame Lyngern," complacently remarked the lady whose heart lay bleeding. "Be that your little maid?"

Maude's tone was just a little stiff.

"The Lady Alianora de Holand, Madam."

"Ah! our fair cousin her babe?--Poor heart!"

Maude was silent.

"Verily, had I wist the pain it should take us to come hither," pursued Isabel, apparently quite careless about interrupting the spiritual labours of her sister nun, "methinks I had prayed my Lord the King to choose another messenger. By the rainfall of late, divers streams have so bisched [overflowed] their banks, that me verily counted my mule had been swept away, not once ne twice. It waked my laughter to see how our steward, that rade with us, strave and struggled with his beast."

Maude's heart was too heavy to answer; but Isabel went on chattering lightly, to a murmured under-current of "_Ora pro n.o.bis_" as bead after bead, in the hands of the kneeling nun, pursued its fellow down the string of the rosary. Maude sat on the settle, with the sleeping child in her arms, listening as if she heard not, and feeling as though she had lost all power of reply. At last the rosary came to its final bead, and, crossing herself, the elder nun arose.

"Sister, I pray you of your Paternoster, sith you be terminate," said Isabel, holding out her hand. "Mine brake, fording the river astont [near], and half the beads were gone ere I could gather the same. 'Tis pity, for they were good cornelian."

The rosary changed hands, and Isabel began to say her prayers, neither leaving her chair nor stopping her conversation.

"'Twas when we reached the diversory [inn] last afore Stafford, Dame Lyngern--_Janua Coeli, ora pro n.o.bis_!--we were aware of a jolly deb.o.n.e.re pardoner [Note 1],--_Stella Matutina, ora pro n.o.bis_!--that rade afore, on a fat mule, as well-liking as he--_Refugium Peccatorum, ora pro n.o.bis_!--and coming anigh us, quoth he to me, that first rade--_Regina Angelorum, ora pro n.o.bis_!--'Sister,' quoth my master the pardoner--."

"Sister Isabel, you have dropped a bead!" snapped the elder nun.

"Thanks, Sister Avice.--By my Lady Saint Mary! where was I? Oh ay!--_Regina Patriarcharum, ora pro n.o.bis_!--Well, Dame Lyngern, I will do you to wit what befell."

But Maude's eyes and attention were riveted.

"Be there two Avices in the Priory at Aldgate?--crying your Ladyship mercy."

"Nay,--but one," said Isabel. "Wherefore, Dame?"

"But--this is not my Avice!" faltered Maude.

"I am Saint Clare's Avice, and none other," said the nun stonily.

"But--Avice de Narbonne?"

"Avice de Narbonne I was; and thou wert Maude Gerard."

"Christ's mercy on thee!"

"What signifiest?" responded Avice, sternly. "I am an holy sister, and as Sister Isabel shall certify unto thee, am defamed for holiest of all our house."

"Ay so," admitted Isabel.

"I am sorry for thee, Cousin!" whispered Maude, her eyes full of tears.

"Sorry!" said Isabel.

"Sorry!" repeated Avice. "When I have ensured mine own salvation, and won mine husband's soul from Purgatory, and heaped up great store of merit belike!--Woman, I live but of bread and water, with here and there a lettuce leaf; a draught of milk of Sundays, but meat never saving holydays. I sleep never beyond three hours of a night, and of a Friday night not at all. I creep round our chapel on my bare knees every Friday morrow and Sat.u.r.day even, and do lick a cross in the dust at every shrine. I tell our Lady's litany morrow and even. Sorry! When every sister of our house doth reckon me a very saint!"

A vision rose before Maude's eyes, of a man clad in blue fringes and phylacteries, who stood, head upright, in the Holy Place, and thanked G.o.d that he was not as other men. But she only said--

"O Avice!--what doth G.o.d reckon thee?"

Isabel stared at her.

"The like, of force!" said Avice, with a sneer.

"Avice, I deemed thee once not far from the kingdom of G.o.d. But I find thee further off than of old time."

"Thou art bereft of thy wits, sure!" said Avice, contemptuously.

"By the Holy Coat of Treves, but this pa.s.seth!" [surpa.s.ses expectation or reason] exclaimed Isabel, looking decidedly astonished.

"This world is no garden of pleasance, woman!" resumed Avice, harshly.

"We must needs buy Heaven, and with heavy coin."

"Buy thou it, an' thou canst," said Maude, rocking the child to and fro, while one or two tears fell upon its little frock. "For me, I thank our Lord that He hath paid down the price."