appeared with prompt celerity. "The maid is enough to provoke all
the saints in the calendar. Isoult, sweet heart, be a thousand times
welcomed!" And the speaker, advancing, kissed her guest with as much
affection as though they had been sisters.

"And how goeth it with the child, Mrs Philippa?"

A quick shake of the head seemed to give an unfavourable answer.

"Demand that of Dr Thorpe, when he hath seen her; but our apothecary
feareth much."

Very unlike either of the women already described was Philippa Basset.
There was nothing passive about her; every thing was of the most active
type, and the mood in which she chiefly lived was the imperative. While
really under the common height of women, in some mysterious way she
appeared much taller than she was. Her motions were quick even to
abruptness: her speech sincere even to bluntness. Every body who knew
her loved her dearly, yet every body would have liked to alter her
character a little. Generally speaking, she seemed to take no part in
those softer feminine feelings supposed to be common to the sex; yet
there were times when that firm voice could falter, and those bright,
quick, grey-blue eyes grow dim with tears. Whatever she did, she did
thoroughly and heartily: she loved fervently and hated fervently. That
"capacity for indignation" which it has been said lies at the root of
all human virtues, was very fully developed in Philippa. Her age was
thirty-one, but she looked nearer forty. Perhaps Isoult Avery, who had
gone with her through the storm of suffering which fell on the House of
Lisle, could have guessed how that look of age had come into the once
bright and lively face of Philippa Basset.

"Come in, dear heart," continued Philippa, "and speak with my Lady my
mother; and I will carry up Dr Thorpe to see the child."

So John and Isoult went into the parlour, and Philippa conducted Dr
Thorpe to the sick chamber.

In the little parlour of the little house at Crowe sat a solitary lady.
She was not yet fifty years of age, but her hair was only one remove
from white; and though lines of thought and suffering were marked on her
pale face, it yet bore the remains of what had been delicate loveliness.
Her complexion was still exquisitely fair, and her eyes were a light,
bright blue. Though she moved quickly, it was with much dignity and
grace. She was a small, slightly-made woman; she sat as upright as a
statue; and she inclined her head like a que