"Why, if each of us would reform herself, I suppose the whole house would be reformed," I answered. "Capital!" said Sister Gaillarde. "Let's set to work." "Who will begin?" said Sister Ismania. "Every body will be the second," replied Sister Gaillarde, "except those who have begun already: that's very plain!" "I expect every body will be the last," said Margaret. Sister Gaillarde nodded, as if she meant Amen. "Well, thank goodness, I want no reforms," said Sister Ada. "Nor any reforming?" said Sister Gaillarde. "Certainly not," she answered. "I always do my duty--always. Nobody can lay any thing else to my charge." And she looked round with an air that seemed to say, "Deny it if you can!" "It is manifest," observed Sister Gaillarde gravely, "that our Sister Ada is the only perfect being among us. I am not perfect, by any means: and really, I feel oppressed by the company of a seraph. I'm not nearly good enough. Perchance, Sister Ada, you would not mind my sitting a little further off." And actually, she rose and went over to the other side of the room. Sister Ada tossed her head,--not as I should expect a seraph to do: then she too rose, and walked out of the room. Sister Ismania had laughingly followed Sister Gaillarde: so that the Lady Joan, Margaret, and I, were alone in that corner. "My mother had a Book of Evangels," said the Lady Joan, "in which I have sometimes read: and I remember, it said, `be ye perfect,' The priests say only religious persons can be perfect: yet our Lord, when He said it, was not speaking to them, but just to the common people who were His disciples, on the hill-side. Is it the case, that we could all be perfect, if only we tried, and entreated the grace of our Lord to enable us to be so?" "Did your Ladyship ever know any who was?" asked Margaret. The Lady Joan shook her head. "Never--not perfect. My mother was a good woman enough; but there were flaws in her. She was cleverer than my father, and she let him feel it. He was nearer perfection than she, for he was humbler and gentler--God rest his sweet soul! Yet she was a good woman, for all that: but--no, not perfect!" Suddenly she ceased, and a light came in her eyes. "You two," she said, looking on us, "are the Despenser ladies, I believe?" We assented. "Do you mind telling me--pardon me if I should not ask--which of you was affianced, long years ago, to the Lord Lawrence de Hastings, sometime Earl of Pembroke?" "Sometime!" ah me, then my lost love is no more! I felt as though my tongue refused to speak. Something was coming-- what, I did not know. Margaret answered for me, and the Lady Joan's hand fell softly on mine. "Did you love each other," she said, "when you were little children? If so, we ought to love each other, for he was very dear to me. Mother Annora, he was my father." "You!" I just managed to say.