child," said Isabel softly, seeing her disappointment, "if I err in
thus speaking, I pray God to pardon me. I can but follow what I see
right; and `to him that esteemeth anything to be unclean, to him it is
unclean.' How can I forsake the hearts that look to me for help
throughout this valley? And if thou have need of me, thou canst always
come, or send for me."

This gentle, apologetic explanation touched Philippa the more, because
she felt that in the like case, she could not herself have condescended
to make it.

The next thing to be done was to write to Sir Richard. This Philippa
was unable to do personally, since the art of handling the pen had
formed no part of her education. Her mother did it for her; for Isabel
had been solidly and elaborately instructed by Giles de Edingdon, under
the superintendence of the King's Confessor, Luke de Wodeford, also a
Predicant Friar. The letter had to be directed very much at random,--to
"Sir Richard Sergeaux, of the Duke of Lancaster's following, at
Bordeaux, or wherever he may be found." Fortunately for Philippa, the
Prior of the neighbouring monastery was just despatching his cellarer to
London on conventual business: and he undertook to convey her letter to
the Savoy Palace, whence it would be forwarded with the next despatches
sent to John of Gaunt. Philippa, in whose name the letter was written,
requested her husband to reply to her at Shaftesbury, whither she and
Isabel meant to proceed at once.

The spring was in its full beauty when they reached Shaftesbury.
Philippa had not found an opportunity to let the Abbess know of her
coming, but she was very cordially welcomed by that good-natured dame.
The recreation-bell sounded while they were conversing, and at
Philippa's desire the Abbess sent for Mother Joan to the guest-chamber.
Sister Senicula led her in.

"How is it with you, Aunt?" said Philippa affectionately. "I have
returned hither, as you may hear."

"Ah! Is it thou, child?" said the blind nun in answer. "I fare
reasonably well, as a blind woman may. I am glad thou hast come hither
again."

It evidently cost Isabel much to make herself known to the sister from
whom she had parted in such painful circumstances, thirty-seven years
before. For a few moments longer, she did not speak, and Philippa
waited for her. At last Isabel said in a choked voice--"Sister Joan!"

"Holy Virgin!" exclaimed the blind woman; "who called me that?"

"One that tho