"That's good, little lass," said the Countess. "It's good to hear that, but once, _ma fillette_. But wherefore tarrieth thy brother away? It must be King Edward that will not suffer him to come." It was piteous to hear her cling thus to the old illusion. All the time of her imprisonment, though now and then in a fit of anger she could hurl bitter names at her son, yet, when calm, she had usually maintained that he was kept away from her, and refused to be convinced that his absence was of his own free will. The longer the illusion lasted, the more stubbornly she upheld it. "'Tis not always the best-loved that loveth back the best," said Perrote, gently, "without man's best love be, as it should be, fixed on God. And 'tis common for fathers and mothers to love better than they be loved; the which is more than all other true of the Father in Heaven." "Thou mayest keep thy sermons, old woman, till mass is sung," said the Countess, in her cynical style. "Ah me! My Jean would come to the old, white-haired mother that risked her life for his--he would come if he could. He must know how my soul hungereth for the sight of his face. I want nothing else. Heaven would be Purgatory to me without him." "Ah, my dear Lady!" tenderly replied Perrote. "If only I might hear you say that of the Lord that laid down His life for you!" "I am not a nun," was the answer; "and I shall not say that which I feel not." "God forbid you should, Lady! But I pray Him to grant you so to feel." "I tell thee, I am not a nun," said the Countess, rather pettishly. Her idea was that real holiness was impossible out of the cloister, and that to love God was an entirely different type of feeling from the affection she had for her human friends. This was the usual sentiment in the Middle Ages. But Perrote had been taught of God, and while her educational prejudices acted like coloured or smoked glass, and dimmed the purity of the heavenly light, they were unable to hide it altogether. "Very dear Lady," she said, "God loveth sinners; and He must then love other than nuns. Shall they not love Him back, though they be not in cloister?" "Thou hadst better win in cloister thyself, when thou art rid of me," was the answer, in a tone which was a mixture of languor and sarcasm. "Thou art scarce fit to tarry without, old woman." "I will do that which God shall show me," said Perrote, calmly. "Dame, were it not well your Grace should essay to sleep?" "Nay, not so. I have my Jeanne to look at, that I have not seen for five-and-twenty years. I shall sleep fast enough anon. Daughter, art thou a happy woman, or no?" Lady Basset answered by a shake of the head. "Why, what aileth thee? Is it thy baron, or thy childre?" "I have no child, Mother." The Countess heard the regretful yearning of the tone.