"My little maid, this is well," said the Countess. "Come with me. I
am going to take thee to a kind and holy dame who will, I trust, with
the blessing of Heaven, be able to heal thee better than we have
done."
"Oh, lady, lady, do not send me away!" cried Grisell; "not from you
and Madge."
"My child, I must do so; I am going away myself, with my lord, and
Madge is to go back with her brother to her father the Duke. Thou
couldst not brook the journey, and I will take thee myself to the
good Sister Avice."
"A nun, a nunnery," sighed Grisell. "Oh! I shall be mewed up there
and never come forth again! Do not, I pray, do not, good my lady,
send me thither!"
Perhaps my lady thought that to remain for life in a convent might be
the fate, and perhaps the happiest, of the poor blighted girl, but
she only told her that there was no reason she should not leave
Wilton, as she was not put there to take the vows, but only to be
cured.
Long nursing had made Grisell unreasonable, and she cried as much as
she dared over the order; but no child ventured to make much
resistance to elders in those days, and especially not to the
Countess, so Grisell, a very poor little wasted being, was carried
down, and only delayed in the hall for an affectionate kiss from
Margaret of York.
"And here is a keepsake, Grisell," she said. "Mine own beauteous
pouncet box, with the forget-me-nots in turquoises round each little
hole.
Pages:
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41