Avery smiled, and said he would ask Mr Underhill to dinner. But Isoult shook her head, averring that neither Dr Thorpe nor even the Hot Gospeller could find a man for the time.
For some days, at her husband’s desire, Isoult had been on the look-out for a bower-woman to replace Jennifer. She inquired from Mrs Brent and other neighbours, but could nowhere hear of a satisfactory person. On the Sunday evening following Philippa’s visit, as they were coming home from Saint Botolph’s, the church which stood at the top of the Minories, Isoult heard her name softly called from the crowd of dispersing worshippers. She looked up into a pair of black, pensive eyes, which she knew to belong to an old friend—a converted Jewess, who had been one of her bridesmaids, but whom she had never met since that time. The friends halted and clasped hands.
“I knew not you were in this vicinage,” said Esther in her grave manner, “but methought that face could belong to none other.”
“We dwell at this present in the Minories,” said Isoult, “and are but now come hither, by reason of certain riots in the western parts. And where dwell you?”
“I am now abiding,” she replied, “with a friend, one Mistress Little, until I may find conveniency to meet with a service: for I have left the one, and am not yet fallen in with the other.”
“And I am but now looking for a bower-woman,” said Isoult.
“Have you covenanted with any?” asked she quickly.
“Nay,” was the answer, “I have not yet fallen in with any with whom to covenant.”
“Mrs Avery, will you take me?” she said, earnestly.
“Nay,” answered Isoult, “but will you come to me? I had thought you should look for a much better service than mine.”