Nay, if the Lady Countess be not in London
it would cost me little to go on to the north with her. There's St.
Andrew of Ely, Hugh, great St. Hugh and little St. Hugh, both of them
at Lincoln, and there's St. Wilfred of York, and St. John of Beverly,
not to speak of St. Cuthbert of Durham and of St. Hilda of Whitby,
who might take it ill if I pray at none of their altars, when I have
been to so many of their brethren. Oh, you may trust me, reverend
mother; I'll never have the young lady, bless her sweet face, out of
my sight till I have safe bestowed her with my Lady Countess, our
good customer for all manner of hardware, or else with her own kin."
The good woman's stream of conversation lasted almost without drawing
breath all the way down the nave. It was a most good-humoured hearty
voice, and her plump figure and rosy face beamed with good nature,
while her bright black eyes had a lively glance.
The Chaplain had inquired about her, and found that she was one of
the good women to whom pilgrimage was an annual dissipation,
consecrated and meritorious as they fondly believed, and gratifying
their desire for change and variety. She was a kindly person of good
reputation, trustworthy, and kind to the poor, and stout John Hall,
her husband, could manage the business alone, and was thought not to
regret a little reprieve from her continual tongue.
She wanted the Prioress to do her the honour of breaking her fast
with her, but the good nun was in haste to return, after having once
seen her charge in safe hands, and excused herself, while Grisell,
blessed by the Chaplain, and hiding her tears under her veil, was led
away to the substantial smith's abode, where she was to take a first
meal before starting on her journey on the strong forest pony which
the Chaplain's care had provided for her.
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