“She will cease ere long,” he answered sadly.
“You think so, Dr Thorpe?” said Isoult, mistaking his meaning. “I shall verily be of good cheer when she doth so.”
“You do misconceive me, Mrs Avery,” said he. “I do not signify that she shall leave it of her good will; nay, nor perchance ere death take her. But that will be ere long.”
“Dr Thorpe!” cried Isoult. “You would say—”
“I would say,” answered he, “that my Lady Lisle’s life is scantly worth twelve months’ purchase. Methought it better to let you know so much, Mrs Avery, for I would not give you but Scarborough warning.” (Note 7.)
“Woe worth the day!” said Isoult.
“The Lady Frances is but ill off touching her health,” replied he, “but with her ’tis rather the soul than the body that doth suffer. Rest from sorrow and vexations might yet avail for her. But neither rest, nor physic, nor aught save a miracle from God, can avail, as methinks, for the Lady Lisle.”
When Isoult came down into the little parlour the day after, she was surprised to find there a stranger, in close conversation with Lady Lisle and Philippa. She hesitated a moment whether to enter, but Lady Lisle desired her to come in; so she sat down and began to work. Little of the conversation reached her, for it was conducted almost in whispers; until the door opened, and Lady Frances came slowly into the room. A quick colour rose to her cheek, and she slightly compressed her lips; but she came forward, the stranger, a dark good-looking man, kissing her hand before she sat down.
“Is there aught new, Mr Monke?” asked Philippa, changing the conversation.
“I have heard but one thing,” said he, “yet is that somewhat strange. My Lord’s Grace of Canterbury is become a Gospeller.”