I call you?" asked Philippa, when the monk rose to depart.

"Men call me Guy of Ashridge," he said.

"I hope to see you again, Father," responded Philippa.

"So do I, my daughter," answered the monk, "in that other land whereinto
nothing shall enter that defileth. Nothing but Christ and Christ's--the
Head and the body, the Master and the meynie [household servant]. May
the Master make you one of the meynie! Farewell."

And in five minutes more, Guy of Ashridge was gone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note. "Condignity implies merit, and of course claims reward on the
score of justice. Congruity pretends only to a sort of imperfect
qualification for the gifts and reception of God's grace."--_Manet's
Church History_, iv. 81.

CHAPTER FOUR.

MOTHER JOAN.

"She hears old footsteps wandering slow
Through the lone chambers of her heart."

Lowell.

When Guy of Ashridge was fairly gone, Philippa felt at once relieved and
vexed to lose him. She had called in a new physician to prescribe for
her disease; and she was sure that he had administered a harmful
medicine, if he had not also given a wrong diagnosis. Instead of being
better, she felt worse; and she resolved to give herself the next dose,
in the form of a "retreat" into a convent, to pray and fast, and make
her peace with God. Various reasons induced her to select a convent at
a distance from home. After a period of indecision, she fixed upon the
Abbey of Shaftesbury, and obtained the necessary permission to reside
there for a time.

Lady Sergeaux arrived at Shaftesbury towards the close of August. She
found the Abbess and nuns kindly-disposed towards her; and her stay was
not disagreeable, except for the restless, dissatisfied feelings of her
own heart. But she found that her peace was not made, for all her
fastings, scourgings, vigils, and prayers. Guy's words came back to her
with every rite, "God strip you of your own goodness!" and she could not
wrap herself in its mantle as complacently as before.

In the Abbey of Shaftesbury was one nun who drew Philippa's attention
more than the others. This was a woman of about sixty years of age,
whom all the convent called Mother Joan. An upright, white-haired
woman, with some remnant of former comeliness; but Mother Joan was
blind. Philippa pitied her affliction, and liked her simple,
straightforward manner. She had many old memories and tales