lease your Grace, my father dwelt in Hertfordshire, and he
wedded under his estate, so that his family cast him off, as I have
heard," said Amphillis, growing every moment more hot and confused, for
it was no light ordeal for one in her position to be singled out for
conversation by an archbishop, and she sorely feared an after ebullition
of Lady Foljambe's wrath.

"My child!" said the Archbishop with great interest, and very gently,
"did thy father wed one Margery Altham, of London, whose father dwelt in
the Strand, and was a baker?"

"He did so, under your Grace's pardon," said poor Amphillis, blushing
for the paternal shortcomings; "but, may it please your Grace, he was a
master-pastiller, not a baker."

A little smile of amusement at the delicate distinction played about the
Archbishop's lips.

"Why, then, Cousin Amphillis, I think thy cousin may ask thee for a
kiss," said he, softly touching the girl's cheek with his lips. "My
Lady Foljambe, I am full glad to meet here so near a kinswoman, and I do
heartily entreat you that my word may weigh with you to deal well with
this my cousin."

Lady Foljambe, with a low reverence, assured his Grace that she had been
entirely unaware, like Amphillis herself, that her bower-woman could
claim even remote kindred with so exalted a house and so dignified a
person; and that in future she should assume the position proper to her
birth. And to her astonishment, Amphillis was passed by her Ladyship up
the table, above Agatha, above even Perrote--nay, above Mistress
Margaret--and seated, not by any means to her comfort, next to Lady
Foljambe herself. From that day she was no more addressed with the
familiar _thou_, but always with the _you_, which denoted equality or
respect. When Lady Foljambe styled her Mistress Amphillis, she endured
it with a blush. But when Perrote substituted it for the affectionate
"Phyllis" usual on her lips, she was tearfully entreated not to make a
change.

The Archbishop was on his way south for the ceremony of consecration,
which required a dispensation if performed anywhere outside the
Cathedral of Canterbury, unless bestowed by the Pope himself. His visit
set Sir Godfrey thinking. Here was a man who might safely be allowed to
visit the dying Countess--being, of course, told the need for secrecy--
and if he requested it of him, Perrote must cease to worry him after
that. No poor priest, nor all the poor priests put together, could be
the