u knewest once," answered Isabel's quivering voice.

"From Heaven?" cried Joan almost wildly. "Can the dead come back
again?" And she stretched forth her hands in the direction from which
the sound of her sister's voice had come.

"No, but the living may," said Isabel, kneeling down by her, and
clasping her arms around her.

"Isabel!" And Joan's trembling hands were passed over her face, as if
to assure herself that her ears had not deceived her. "It can be no
voice but thine. Holy Virgin, I thank thee!"

The Abbess broke in, in a manner which, though well-meant, was
exceedingly ill-timed and in bad taste. She was kindly-disposed, but
had not the faintest trace of that delicate perception of others'
feelings, and consideration for them, which constitutes the real
difference between Nature's ladies and such as are not ladies.

"Verily, to think that this holy Mother and our Mother Joan be sisters!"
cried she, "I remember somewhat of your history, my holy Sister: are you
not she that was sometime Countess of Arundel?"

Philippa saw how Isabel trembled from head to foot; but she knew not
what to say. Joan La Despenser was equal to the emergency.

"Holy Mother," she said quietly, "would it please you, of your great
goodness, to permit me to remain here during the recreation-hour with my
sister? I am assured we shall have much to say each to other, if we may
have your blessed allowance to speak freely after this manner."

"Be it so, Sister," said the Abbess, smiling genially; "I will see to
our sisters in the recreation-chamber."

A long conversation followed the departure of the Abbess. Joan took up
the history where she had parted from Isabel, and told what had been her
own lot since then; and Isabel in her turn recounted her story--neither
a long nor an eventful one; for it told only how she had been taken to
Sempringham by the page, and had there settled herself, in the hermit's
cell which happened to be vacant.

When Philippa was lying awake that night, her thoughts were troublous
ones. Not only did she very much doubt Sir Richard's consent to her
mother's visit to Kilquyt; but another question was puzzling her
exceedingly. How far was it desirable to inform Isabel of the death of
Alianora? She had noticed how the unfortunate remark of the Abbess had
agitated her mother; and she also observed that when Joan came to speak
to Isabel herself, she was totally silent concerning Earl Richard. The
uncom