“I think it is either thou or I,” she replied. “Sister Anne told me that she asked her if there were not some Sisters of the Despenser family here, and wished to have them pointed out to her: and she said to Sister Anne, ‘She whom I seek was professed as a very little child.’ That must be either thou or I, Annora. What can she want with us?”
“Verily, Margaret, I cannot tell.”
“I wondered if she might be a niece of ours.”
“She may,” said I. “I never thought of that. There is something about her eyes that reminds me of some one, but who it is I know not.”
“Thou couldst ask her,” suggested Margaret.
“I scarcely like to do that,” said I. “But I will think about it, Margaret.”
I was wicked enough to kiss her, when I let her go.
This morning Sister Ada told me that the Lady Joan had asked leave to learn illuminating, so she would spend her mornings henceforth in the illumination chamber. That will bring her with Margaret, who is much there. Perchance she may tell her something.
It would be strange to see a niece or cousin of one’s very own! I marvel if she be akin to us. Somehow, since I had that night watch with Margaret, my heart does not feel exactly the dry, dead thing it used to do in times past. I fancy I could love a kinswoman, if I had one.
Sister Gaillarde said such a strange thing to me to-day. I was remarking that the talk in the recreation-room was so often vapid and foolish—all about such little matters: we never seemed to take an interest in any great or serious subject.