Lady Eleanor greeted Sir John with affection and respect, for his wife had been her distant cousin and very dear friend, and she had, besides, met him in Lollard assemblies several times. But the sight of her brother both perplexed and troubled her. What had he to do at such a meeting? A proscribed Lollard and a Benedictine monk walking peaceably side by side was a sight as strange as would be a wolf asleep in a sheep-fold.
Father Paul's fine features were working with emotion as he took both his sister's hands in his, and looked down into her face.
"Peace be unto your house, Eleanor, and to all that are within it. I come not to break your peace, but rather to add to it. God has taught me many things since you and I parted. One is, that it is not serving him to leave the station in life in which he himself has placed us, or to break the ties of family affection, which every law of his only binds more firmly. I come to you no proud, self-righteous, persecuting Benedictine, but a sinner saved and cleansed by the blood of Jesus Christ. Your God is my God, your people are my people from henceforth. Are you still afraid to receive me into your home?"
Lady Eleanor was almost overwhelmed by her happiness, and could only murmur:
"God answers prayer, O Paul! Why is my faith so weak? He has bestowed all that I ever wished; my cup is full of joy!"
Geoffrey had lingered behind, under pretense of helping Bertrand to fasten the boat and attend to their luggage, but in reality because he was feeling a little sad and lonely. We all know how, when one with whom we have been holding constant companionship, who has been all in all to us, and to whom we have seemed to be very important, is suddenly surrounded by other near and dear friends who are entire strangers to us, what a desolate feeling comes over us as we feel that we are no more necessary to their happiness. We immediately imagine ourselves forgotten because, having been so long prominent, we are now thrown into the background. This is all very selfish, no doubt, but it is human nature. Geoffrey was feeling more desolate, perhaps, than he had felt since his entrance into the convent-dungeon, when he was aroused by Kate's merry laugh.
"Come, come, sir captive knight, you are demeaning your noble birth by doing servants' work. My mother is just asking which is Bertrand, and which is master Geoffrey. And here is little Guy, who wants to see who it was that sister Kate used to go and see wrapped up like a ghost, and who at last brought her home to him and mamma. There now, Guy, make your reverence, like a nice little page as you are, to this famous hero; and I shouldn't wonder if he could tell you better stories than even old Thomas."
Geoffrey was by this time heartily ashamed of his foolish fancies, and stooping down, he lifted the child in his arms to hide his confusion.
"Geoffrey," said Kate, her voice suddenly changing from its light, bantering tone, "one reason why I noticed Hubert that day in the convent-chapel was because he made me think of little Guy--he had just such a brow, and eyes, and hair. Oh! if he were only here to be happy with us at home!"
"He is even happier than we," said Geoffrey, touched by her thoughtfulness for him. "He, too, has met his long-lost mother, and he only is really at home; we are still wanderers."