Crutched Friars, built round a square, combining warehouse and manor-house; richly-carved shields, with the arms of the companies of London, supporting the tier of first-floor windows, and another row of brackets above supporting another overhanging story. A fountain was in the centre of a beautiful greensward, with beds of roses, pansies, pinks, stars of Bethlehem, and other good old flowers, among which a monkey was chained to a tree, while a cat roamed about at a safe distance from him. Alice Montagu raised a laugh by asking if it were _the_ cat; to which her city namesake replied that 'her master' never could abide to be without a cat in memory of his first friend, and marshalled them into the beautiful hall, with wainscot lining below, surmounted by an arcade containing statues, and above a beautiful carved ceiling. Here a meal was served to them, and the Lady talked with Whittington of the grand town-halls and other buildings of the merchants of the Low Countries, with whom he was a trader for their rich stuffs; and the visit passed off with no small satisfaction to both parties. Esclairmonde sat in the barge on her return, looking out on the gray clear water, and on the bright gardens that sloped down to it, gay with roses and fruitful with mulberries, apples, and strawberries, and the mansions and churches that were never quite out of sight, though there were some open fields and wild country ere coming to Westminster, all as if she did not see them, but was wrapped in deep contemplation. Alice at last, weary of silence, stole her arm round her waist, and peeped up into her face. 'May I guess thy thoughts, sweet Clairette? Thou wilt found such a hospice thyself?' 'Say not I _will_, child,' said Esclairmonde, with a crystal drop starting in each dark eye. 'I would strive and hope, but--' 'Ah! thou wilt, thou wilt,' cried Alice; 'and since there are Beguines enough for their own Netherlands, thou wilt come to England and be our foundress here.' 'Nay, little one; here are the bedeswomen of St. Katharine's in London.' 'Ah! but we have other cities. Good Father, have we not? Hull--Southampton--oh! so many, where poor strangers come that need ghostly tendance as well as bodily. Esclairmonde--Light of the World--oh! it was not for nothing that they gave thee that goodly name. The hospice shall bear it!' 'Hush, hush! sweet pyet; mine own name is what they must not bear.' 'Ah! but the people will give it; and our Holy Father the Pope, he will put thee into the canon of saints. Only pity that I cannot live to hear of Ste. Esclairmonde--nay, but then I must overlive thee, mind I should not love that.' 'Oh, silence, silence, child; these are no thoughts to begin a work with. Little flatterer, it may be well for me that our lives must needs lie so far apart that I shall not oft hear that fond silly tongue.'