me to Kilquyt?"

"For a time," answered Isabel, "if thine husband assent thereto."

"I shall not ask him," said Philippa, with a slight pout.

"Then I shall not go," replied Isabel quietly. "I will not enter his
house without his permission."

Philippa's surprise and disappointment were legible in her face.

"But, mother, thou knowest not my lord," she interposed. "There is not
in all the world a man more wearisome to dwell withal. Every thing I
do, he dislikes; and every thing I wish to do, he forbids. I am
thankful for his absence, for when he is at home, from dawn to dusk he
doth nought save to find fault with me."

But, notwithstanding her remonstrance, Philippa had fathomed her
mother's motive in thus answering. Sir Richard possessed little of his
own; he was almost wholly dependent on the Earl her father; and had it
pleased that gentleman to revoke his grant of manors to herself and her
husband, they would have been almost ruined. And Philippa knew quite
enough of Earl Richard the Copped-Hat to be aware that few tidings would
be so unwelcome at Arundel as those which conveyed the fact of Isabel's
presence at Kilquyt. Her mother's uplifted hand stopped her from saying
more.

"Hush, my daughter!" said the low voice. "Repay not thou by finding
fault in return. `What glory is it, if, when ye be buffeted for your
faults, ye shall take it patiently? but if, when ye do well and suffer
for it, ye take it patiently, this is acceptable with God.'"

"I am not so patient as you, mother," answered Philippa, shaking her
head. "Perhaps it were better for me if I were. But dost thou mean
that I must really ask my lord's leave ere thou wilt come with me?"

"I do mean it."

"And thou sayest, `for a time'--wilt thou not dwell with me?"

"The vows of the Lord are upon me," replied Isabel, gravely. "I cannot
forsake the place wherein He hath set me, the work which He hath given
me to do. I will visit thee, and my sister also; but that done, I must
return hither."

"But dost thou mean to live and die in yonder cell?"

It was in the recreation-room of the Convent that they were conversing.

"Even so, my daughter." [See Note 1.]

Philippa's countenance fell. It seemed very hard to part again when
they had but just found each other. If this were religion, it must be
difficult work to be religious. Yet she was more disappointed than
surprised, especially when the first momentary annoyance was past.

"My