“But, sweet Lady,” said Maude, earnestly, “wherefore will ye take the disgrace, and deny yourself of the blessing?”
“When I can see the blessing, Maude, I will do thee to wit,” replied Constance, laughingly.
“Methinks it is scarce seen,” returned Maude, thoughtfully. “Madam, you never yet saw happiness, but ye have felt it, and ye wit such a thing to be. And I have felt the blessing of our Lord’s love and pity, though ye no have.”
“Fantasies, child!” said Constance.
“If so be, Dame, how come so many to know it?”
“By reason the world is full of fantastical fools,” answered Constance, lightly. “We be all nigh fools, sweeting—big fools and little fools—that is all.”
Maude gave up the attempt to make her understand. She only said, “Would your Grace that I read unto you a season?” privately intending, if her offer were accepted, to read from the gospel of Saint Luke, which she had with her. But Constance laughingly declined the offer; and Maude felt that nothing more could be done, except to pray for her.
Time rolled away wearily enough till the summer was drawing to its close. And then a new interest awoke for both Maude and her lady. For the leaves were just beginning to droop on the trees around Kenilworth Castle, when the disinherited heiress of Kent, a prisoner from her birth, opened her eyes upon the world which had prepared for her such cold and cruel welcome.
There was plenty to do and to talk about after this. Constance was perplexed what name to give her baby. She had never consulted any will but her own before, for she had not cared about pleasing Le Despenser. But she wanted to please Kent, and she did not know what name would gratify him. At length she decided on Alianora, a name borne by two of his sisters, of whom the eldest, the Countess of March, she believed to be his favourite sister.
A few weeks after the birth of Alianora, on a close, warm autumn afternoon, Constance was lying on her bed to rest, feeling languid and tired with the heat; and Maude sat by the window near her, singing softly to the baby in her arms. Hearing a gentle call from Bertram outside, Maude laid the child down and opened the door. Bertram was there, in the drawing-room, and with him were two sisters of Saint Clare, robed in the habit of their order.