Lady Rosamond's book

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

Her Grace has fallen into a settled way of life, and methinks seems already happier than when she came. She keeps all the hours, and also spends much time in prayer at the shrine of our Lady, in the garden. It was a favorite place of my own, but of course I do not intrude on her. I went this morning before I thought she would be up, meaning to say prayers for my father, from whom I have not heard, when, on entering the little chapel, I found her Grace before me. I would have retired noiselessly, but her Grace looked round, and seeing me, she beckoned me to come and kneel beside her.

"The place is small," said she, "but two or three devout hearts can find room in it, and we shall not hinder each other's prayers."

So we said our prayers together in silence, but her Grace sighed many times—oh, so deeply, as if from such a burdened heart, that I was moved to pray for her. I am sure, "Happy as a Queen" is not a true saying, in her case.

When her Grace arose, I would have retired in silence, but she detained me, and placing herself on my favorite seat, she called me to sit down beside her. I did so without demur, since she bade me.

"You are Rosamond, daughter of the good knight, Sir Stephen Corbet, are you not?" asked her Grace.

"Yes, madam," I answered. Oh, how I did long to ask if she had seen my father, but of course I did not speak till spoken to.

"And, do you know, little Rosamond, that you are partly the cause of my coming here?" Then as I hesitated what to say, she continued: "I had heard before of this shrine of our Lady's, which had been hallowed by the prayers of St. Ethelburga long ago, and being one day in conversation with your kinsman, Lord Stanton, I questioned him about it. He, seeing my interest, offered to bring me his cousin, Sir Stephen Corbet, who, he said, had a daughter in the house, and could tell me more than himself. I remembered the good knight, and was glad to see him again; and he coming to me, we held long discourse together. He told me the house was of the best repute, both for sanctity of manners and good works, though 'twas not of the strictest order—that the Superior was a lady of good family and breeding, that the situation was pleasant, and the air sweet and wholesome. On farther question, he also said that you were here, and seemed very happy; and also that watching before the shrine of our Lady in the garden, you had received from her a most comfortable assurance concerning your mother, who had died suddenly without the sacraments. This determined me to seek this house as a place to hold a religious retreat, thinking that perhaps the same grace might, unworthy as I am, be vouchsafed to me, who am sorely in need."

She again sighed heavily, and as she looked abroad in silence for some minutes, I am sure I saw tears in her lovely eyes. I sat quite still, not knowing what better to do.

"Will you tell me the history of this matter, my child?" said she presently, coming back, as it were, from the place where her thoughts had gone. "Believe me, it is no idle curiosity which prompts the request."

Now my night in the chapel has ever seemed to me so sacred that I have never mentioned it save to my father and Amice, to whom I tell everything, and to Father Fabian my confessor; but seeing the Queen's desire. I could not refuse: so I told her all as truly as if I had been at confession. She listened eagerly, but looked, I thought, disappointed when I had done.