y,' to fulfil Queen Philippa's pious
behest, to seek out the suffering and the ignorant, and to tend and
instruct them. The tall form and beautiful countenance of Sister Clare
were loved and reverenced as those of an angel messenger among the high
houses and courts that closed in on the banks of the Thames; and while
Luxemburgs in France and Flanders intrigued and fought, plotted and fell,
their kinswoman's days passed by in busy alms-deeds and ever loftier
devotion, till those who watched her steps felt that she was verily a
light of the world, manifesting forth the true Light in many a dark
place.

And her light of sympathy shone upon many an old friend both in joy and
in grief. When the dissensions of Gloucester and Beaufort had summoned
Bedford to England to endeavour to appease their strife, his Burgundian
Duchess sought out her early friend, and Esclairmonde saw her gentle
companion, the Lady Anne, fulfilling her daily task of mediation, and
living a life, not indeed very sunshiny, but full of all that esteem and
respect could give her, and of calm gratitude and affection, although
Anne, like all others, believed that John of Bedford's heart had been
buried in his brother's grave, and that of youthful love he had none to
give. His whole soul was absorbed in his care for the welfare of the
pale, gentle, dreamy, inanimate boy, who, from his very meekness and
docility, gave so little promise of representing the father whose name he
bore.

The loving Alice of Montagu, though the mother of many a bold boy and
girl, and busy with all the cares of the great Nevil household, regarded
as the chief delight in a journey to court the sight of her dear Sister
Clare. It was to Sister Clare that Alice turned for comfort when her
brave old father died at the siege of Orleans; and it was while daily
soothing and ministering to her sorrow that Esclairmonde heard the
strange wild tales of the terrible witch maiden who had appeared on
behalf of the French, and turned whole English armies to flight, by power
that the French declared to come from the saints, but which the English
never doubted to be infernal. Maimed and wounded soldiers, whom
Esclairmonde relieved and tended as they returned from lost battles, gave
her fearful accounts of the panic that La Pucelle inspired. Even the
hardy veteran, Sir John Fastolfe, had not been able to withstand her
spells, but had fled from the field of Jergeau, where gallant Sir Ralf
Percy h