at Well; she knew that "whosoever drinketh of this water shall
thirst again." Ay, from her that weary thirst was never absent. But
where was this Well from which it might be quenched? and who was it that
could give her this living water?

Philippa's memory was a perfect storehouse of legends of the saints, and
above all of the Virgin, who stood foremost in her pantheon of gods.
She searched her repertory over and over, but in vain. No saint, and in
particular not Saint Mary, had ever, in any legend that she knew, spoken
words like these. And what tremendous words they were! "Whosoever
drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst."

There were long and earnest prayers offered that night in the little
turret-chamber. Misdirected prayers--entreaties to be prayed for,
addressed to ears that could not hear, to hands that could not help.
But perhaps they reached another Ear that could hear, another Hand that
was almighty. The unclosing of the door is promised to them that ask.
Thanks be to God, that while it is not promised, it does sometimes in
His sovereign mercy unclose to them that know not how to ask.

The morning after this, as Philippa opened her door, one of the castle
lavenders, of washerwomen, passed it on her way down the stairs. She
was a woman of about fifty years of age, who had filled her present
place longer than Philippa could recollect.

Throughout the whole of the Middle Ages--for a period of many centuries,
closing only about the time of the accession of the House of Hanover--
laundress was a name of evil repute, and the position was rarely assumed
by any woman who had a character to lose. The daughters of the Lady
Alianora were strictly forbidden to speak to any lavender; but no one
had cared enough about Philippa to warn her, and she was therefore free
to converse with whom she pleased. And a sudden thought had struck her.
She called back the lavender.

"Agnes!"

The woman stopped, came to Philippa's door, and louted--the
old-fashioned reverence which preceded the French courtesy.

"Agnes, how long hast thou been lavender here?"

"Long ere you were born, Lady."

"Canst thou remember my mother?"

Philippa was amazed at the look of abject terror which suddenly took
possession of the lavender's face.

"Hush, Lady, Lady!" she whispered, her voice trembling with fear.

Philippa laid her hand on the woman's arm.

"Wilt thou suffer aught if thou tarry?"

Agnes shook