It appeared to Maude, who had grown into a quiet, meditative woman, that the feeling of the Duchess towards her step-daughter was not far from positive hatred. She seemed to seek occasions to mortify her, and to manufacture quarrels which it would have been no trouble to avoid. It was some time before Maude could discern the cause. But one day, in a quiet talk with Bertram Lyngern, still her chief friend, she asked him whether he had noticed it. "Have I eyes, trow?" responded Bertram with a smile. "But wherefore is it, count you?" "Marry, the old tale, methinks. Two men seldom discern alike; and he that looketh on the blue side of a changeable sarcenet [shot silk], can never join hands with him that seeth nought save the red." "You riddle, Master Lyngern." "Why, look you, our Lady Custance was rocked in a Lollard cradle; but my Lady Duchess' Grace had a saint's bone for her rattle. And her mother is an Arundel." "But so is my Lord's Grace of York [the archbishop] himself an Arundel." "Ay--as mecounteth you shall see, one day." "Doth not the doctrine of Sir John de Wycliffe like, him well?" "Time will show," said Bertram, drily. It was quite true that Archbishop Arundel had for some two years been throwing dust in Lollard eyes by plausible professions of conversion to some of the views of that party. At a time when I was less acquainted with his character and antecedents, I gave him credit for sincerity. [Note 1.] I know him better now. He was merely playing a very deep game, and this was one of his subtlest moves. His assumption of Lollardism, or of certain items of it, was only the assumption of a mask, to be worn as long as it proved serviceable, and then to be dropped and forgotten. The time for the mask to drop had come now. The death of Archbishop Courtenay, July 31, 1396, left open to Thomas de Arundel the sole seat of honour in which he was not already installed. Almost born in the purple [Note 2], he had climbed up from ecclesiastical dignity to dignity, till at last there was only one further height left for him to scale. It could surprise no one to see the vacant mitre set on the astute head of Gloucester's confessor and prompter. The Earl of Rutland presented himself at Westminster Palace before his sister left it, attended as usual by his squire, Hugh Calverley. Bertram and Maude at once wished to know all the news of Langley, from which place they had come. Hugh seemed acquainted with no news except one item, which was that Father Dominic, having obtained a canonry, had resigned his post of household confessor to the Palace; and a new confessor had been appointed in his stead. "And who is the new priest?" asked Bertram. "One Sir Marmaduke de Tyneworth." [A fictitious person.] "And what manner of man is he?" "A right honest man and a proper [a fitting, satisfactory man], say they who have confessed unto him; more kindly and courteous than Father Dominic." "He hath then not yet confessed thee?"