r own special pet topic.

"Maidens, I would fain have you all list me heedfully. Prithee, take
not up, none of you, with men's notions. To wit, that a woman must
needs be wed, and that otherwise she is but half a woman, and the like
foolery. Nay, verily; for when she is wed she is no more at all a
woman, but only the half of a man, and is shorn of all her glory. Wit
ye all what marriage truly meaneth? It is to be a slave, and serve a
man at his beck, all the days of thy life. A maid is her own queen, and
may do as it like her--"

"Would I might!" said Blanche under her breath.

"But a wife must needs search out her lord's pleasure."

"Or make him search out hers," boldly interposed Blanche.

"Child, lay thou down forthwith that foolish fantasy," returned Rachel
with great solemnity. "So long time as that thing man is not sure of
thee, he is the meekest mannered beast under the sun. He will promise
thee all thy desire whatsoever. But once give leave unto thy finger to
be rounded by that golden ring the which he holdeth out to thee, and
where be all his promises? Marry, thou mayest whistle for them,--ay,
and weep."

Rachel surely had no intention of bringing her lecture to a close so
early; but at this point it was unfortunately--or, as Blanche thought,
fortunately--interrupted. A girl of nineteen came noiselessly into the
room, carrying a small basket of early cherries. She made no attempt to
announce herself; she was too much at home at Enville Court to stand on
ceremony. Coming up to Rachel, she stooped down and kissed her, setting
the basket on a small table by her side.

"Ah, Lysken Barnevelt! Thou art welcome. What hast brought yonder,
child?"

"Only cherries, Mistress Rachel:--our early white-hearts, which my Lady
loveth, and Aunt Thekla sent me hither with the first ripe."

"Wherefore many thanks and hearty, to her and thee. Sit thee down,
Lysken: thou art in good time for four-hours. Hast brought thy work?"

Lysken pulled out of her pocket a little roll of brown holland, which,
when unrolled, proved to be a child's pinafore, destined for the help of
some poverty-stricken mother; and in another minute she was seated at
work like the rest. And while Lysken works, let us look at her.

A calm, still-faced girl is this, with smooth brown hair, dark eyes, a
complexion nearly colourless, a voice low, clear, but seldom heard, and
small delicate hands, at once quick and quiet. A girl that ha