"Ah, the Lady Abbess of Saint Clare, without Aldgate, wrote to me to go over and see the two new sisters who have come down of late. I am glad thou hast reminded me of this, fair page. There is one in whom she taketh much concern, as fearing for her health. She hath had trials in the world, and hath not yet gotten cured of them. And so thou rodest all day with the fair Mistress Yolande?" added the grave and erect Lady Trenchard, with a penetrating glance. Ralph grew very red. "Yea, my lady--that is, nay. She rode with my Lord Captain, and I waited on him, as was my duty." "Ay, and so she rode with the Captain? Like enough, like enough!" Then, after a pause she added, as if in a soliloquy, "Ah well, she won’t make much of him, poor lass. His heart’s been broke these twelve years or more. ’Tis a sad story, and not one you lads would care to hear." "Yes, I should, Dame Trenchard," said Bowerman shortly, while Ralph looked up surprised. It had never crossed his mind that so exalted a person, and so rigid as the Captain of the Wight, could possibly have a weakness or a romance. "Nay, nay," said Lady Trenchard, sorry she had aroused their curiosity, "’tis a long and sad story, and not one that will give you joy. Besides, ’twas a kinsman of Master Lisle who married the fair girl, sore against her will; but her own true knight was away, and her father’s and the king’s will had to be obeyed, and so she was wed. But not for long--she soon died, they said; but who knows? ’Twas a sad story." And Lady Trenchard nodded her head gravely, then shook it sadly, as if she saw some sad mistake occurring, and lapsed into silence. "But what of the Captain of the Wight, Dame Trenchard?" said Bowerman. "What hath he to do in all this?" "The Captain of the Wight! what of him?" said Lady Trenchard absently. Her thoughts had gone off to the shortcomings of her maids, and whether Dame Joanna Bowerman would not have looked better in a black cote hardie, and lemon-coloured taffeta kirtle, than the yellow one which she wore, with a bright blue bodice. "Not but what she tireth herself well, does Joanna Bowerman. I mind her when she was little Joanna Roucley. She always did have a liking for smart things, and she’s a woman that bears them well--I will say that for her. But she lacked skill in colour." "But what of the Captain?" persisted Bowerman. "Well! what of the Captain?" said Lady Trenchard, with some slight asperity. "I know naught of the Captain. He hath come back, I trow?" "Yea, but you were telling me of some love affair of his." "Marry, was I? not that I know of. You sleep now, Master Bowerman; ’twill be best for you," said Lady Trenchard decisively. Eustace Bowerman muttered something that sounded very like "old hag," and "obstinate old harridan," which was quite unheeded by Lady Trenchard; and Ralph took the opportunity to slip out of the room. *CHAPTER XIII.*