of
forgotten times, which she was ready enough to tell; and these Philippa,
as well as the nuns, always liked to hear.

"How old were you, Mother Joan, when you became a nun?" she asked her
one day during the recreation-hour.

"Younger than you, Lady," said Mother Joan. "I was but an hilding [see
Note 1] of twenty."

"And wherefore was it, Mother?" inquired a giddy young nun, whose name
was Laura. "Wert thou disappointed in love, or--"

The scorn exhibited on the blind woman's face stopped her.

"I never was such a fool," said Mother Joan, bluntly. "I became a nun
because my father had decreed it from my cradle, and my mother willed it
also. There were but two of us maids, and--ah, well! she would not have
more than one to suffer."

"Had thy sister, then, a woeful story?" asked Sister Laura, settling her
wimple, [see note 2], as she thought, becomingly.

"Never woman woefuller," sadly replied Mother Joan.

The next opportunity she had, Lady Sergeaux asked one of the more
discreet nuns who Mother Joan was.

"Eldest daughter of the great house of Le Despenser," replied Sister
Senicula; "of most excellent blood and lineage; daughter unto my noble
Lord of Gloucester that was, and the royal Lady Alianora de Clare, his
wife, the daughter of a daughter of King Edward. By Mary, Mother and
Maiden, she is the noblest nun in all these walls."

"And what hath been her history?" inquired Philippa.

"Her history, I think, was but little," replied Senicula; "your Ladyship
heard her say that she had been professed at twenty years. But I have
known her to speak of a sister of hers, who had a very sorrowful story.
I have often wished to know what it were, but she will never tell it."

The next recreation-time found Philippa, as usual, seated by Mother
Joan. The blind nun passed her hand softly over Philippa's dress.

"That is a damask," [the figured silk made at Damascus] she said. "I
used to like damask and baudekyn."

[Note: Baudekyn or baldekyn was the richest silk stuff then known, and
also of oriental manufacture.]

"I never wear baudekyn," answered Philippa. "I am but a knight's wife."

"What is the colour?" the blind woman wished to know.

"Red and black, in stripes," said Philippa.

"I remember," said Mother Joan, dreamily, "many years ago, seeing mine
aunt, the Lady of Gloucester, at the court of King Edward of Caernarvon,
arrayed in a fair baudekyn of rose colour and silver. It was the
loveliest