ess child and heiress of
the stout Earl of Salisbury, the last of the Montacutes, or Montagues,
who was at present fighting the King's battles in France, but had sent
his commands that she should be brought to Court, in preparation for
fulfilling the long-arranged contract between her and Sir Richard Nevil,
one of the twenty-two children of the Earl of Westmoreland.

She was under the charge of the Countess--a stately dame, with all the
Beaufort pride; and much afraid of her she was, as everything that was
shy or forlorn seemed to turn towards the maiden whose countenance not
only promised kindness but protection.

Presently the cavalcade passed a gray building in the midst of green
fields and orchards, where, under the trees, some black-veiled figures
sat spinning.

'A nunnery!' quoth Esclairmonde, looking eagerly after it as she rode
past.

'A nunnery!' said Malcolm, encouraged into the simple confidingness of a
young boy. 'How unlike the one where my sister is! Not a tree is near
it; it is perched upon a wild crag overhanging the angry sea, and the
winds roar, and the gulls and eagles scream, and the waves thunder round
it!'

'Yet it is not the less a haven of peace,' replied Esclairmonde.

'Verily,' said Malcolm, 'one knows what peace is under that cloister,
where all is calm while the winds rave without.'

'You know how to love a cloister,' said the lady, as she heard his soft,
sad tones.

'I had promised myself to make my home in one,' said Malcolm; 'but my
King will have me make trial of the world first. And so please you,' he
added, recollecting himself, 'he forbade me to make my purpose known; so
pray, lady, be so good as to forget what I have said.'

'I will be silent,' said Esclairmonde; 'but I will not forget, for I look
on you as one like myself, my young lord. I too am dedicated, and only
longing to reach my cloistered haven.'

She spoke it out with the ease of those days when the monastic was as
recognized a profession as any other calling, and yet with something of
the desire to make it evident on what ground she stood.

Lady Alice uttered an exclamation of surprise.

'Yes,' said Esclairmonde, 'I was dedicated his my infancy, and promised
myself in the nunnery at Dijon when I was seven years old.'

Then, as if to turn the conversation from herself, she asked of Malcolm
if he too had made any vow.

'Only to myself,' said Malcolm. 'Neither my Tutor nor the Prior of
Coldingham would h