At the time we writ this Chronicle, when I were scarce seventeen years of age, I mind I had a fantasy running through my brain that I was born for greatness. Methinks it came in part of a certain eager restless spirit that did long to be a-doing, and such little matters as do commonly fall to women's lot seemed mean and worthless in mine eyes. But in part (if I must needs confess my folly) I do believe it sprang of a tale I had heard of _Mother_, touching Queen _Katherine_, the last wife to King _Harry_ that was, of whom some _Egyptian_ [gypsy] had prophesied, in her cradle, that she was born for a crown: and ever after she heard the same, the child (as she then were) was used to scorn common works, and when bidden to her task, was wont to say,--"My hands were made to touch crowns and sceptres, not spindles and neelds," [needles]. Well, this tale (that _Mother_ told us for our diversion when we were little maids--for she, being _Kendal_ born, did hear much touching the Lady _Maud Parr_ and her childre, that dwelt in _Kendal_ Castle) this tale, I say, catched great hold of my fantasy. Mistress _Kate Parr_ came to be a queen, according to her previsions of greatness: and wherefore should not _Editha Louvaine_? Truly, there was but little reason in the fantasy, seeing no _Egyptian_ had ever prophesied of me (should that be of any account, which _Father_ will ne'er allow), nor could the Queen's Majesty make me a queen by wedding of me: but methinks pride and fantasy stick not much at logic. So I clung in my silly heart to the thought that I was born to be great, and was capable to do great things, would they but come in my way. And now I have reached the age of seven and twenty, and they have not come in my way, nor seem like to do. The only conquest I am like to achieve is that over mine own spirit, which _Scripture_ reckoneth better than taking of a city: and the sole entrance into majesty and glory that ever I can look for, is to be presented faultless before the presence of God with exceeding joy. Ah, _Editha Louvaine_! hast thou any cause for being downcast at the exchange? In good sooth, this notion of mine (that I can smile at now) showeth one thing, to wit, the deal of note that childre be apt to take of little matters that should seem nought to their elders. I can ne'er conceive the light and careless fashion wherein some women go about to breed up a child. To me the training of a human soul for the life immortal seems the most terrible piece of responsibility in the whole world. And now there is one story left that I must finish, and it is of the other that hath got Home. It was five years gone, and a short season after _Helen's_ marriage. _Mother_ was something diseased, as I think, touching me, for she said I was pale, and had lost mine appetite (and my sleep belike, though she wist it not).