“And who taught thee to speak French?”
“The holy sisters, Lady.”
“What wert thou singing a minute since?”
The child drooped her head shyly.
“Do not be afraid,” said Philippa gently. “I like to hear singing. Wilt thou sing it again to me?”
Elaine hesitated a moment; but another glance at Philippa’s smiling face seemed to reassure her, and she sang, in a low voice, to a sweet, weird tune:—
“‘Quy de cette eaw boyra
Ancor soyf aura;
Mays quy de l’eaw boyra
Que moy luy donneray,
Jamays soyf n’aura
A l’éternité.’”
“This must be very widely known,” thought Philippa.—“Who taught thee that—the holy sisters?” she asked of the child.
“No,” answered Elaine, shaking her head. “The Grey Lady.”
“And who is the Grey Lady?”