“More liberty, quotha!” cried Isel in amazement. “Whatever can the child mean? More liberty, penned up in two little chambers, and never to leave them all your life, than in a fine large place like Godstowe, with a big garden and cloisters to walk in?”
“Ah, Mother, I don’t want liberty for my feet, but for my soul. There will be no abbess nor sisters to tease one in the anchorhold.”
“Well, and what does that mean, but never a bit of company? Just your one maid, and tied up to her. And the child calls it ‘liberty’!”
“You forget, Mother,” said Haimet mischievously. “There will be the Lady Derette. In the cloister they are only plain Sister.”
Every recluse had by courtesy the title of a baron.
“As if I cared for that rubbish!” said Derette with sublime scorn.
“Dear! I thought you were going on purpose,” retorted her brother.
“Whom will you have for your maid, Derette?” asked her sister.
“Ermine, if I might have her,” answered Derette with a smile.
Gerhardt suddenly stopped the reply which Ermine was about to make.