Loveday's history

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

It was not long after my aunt's visit, that another friend was taken, who proved a great loss to me, and that was Sister Denys. She had gradually improved in health, and I believe the interest she took in my lessons was a great benefit to her; but I do not think she became a whit more reconciled to her way of life. She used to remind me of a vixen * Walter had, which, though tame enough to know and love her keeper, and eat out of his hand, did yet never give up trying to escape from her captivity. I remember old Ralph saying that if the creature did once really give up the hope of getting away, she would die.

* All my readers may not know that Vixen is the proper name of a female fox.

Sister Denys was like that vixen, I think—the hope of escape kept her alive. About this time, she began greatly to frequent a little chapel of our patron saint built in our orchard, and more than once I had seen her talking with an old man, a great, awkward, shambling creature with one eye, whom old Adam, our Scotch gardener, had hired to assist him. I wondered what she wanted with him, but I had learned by that time enough of convent politics to see much and say nothing.

One fine morning, Sister Denys and the old lame gardener were both missing, and when I ventured to ask what had become of them, I was told that Sister Denys had gone to another house to be professed, and that the gardener had been dismissed. Young as I was, a kind of inkling of the truth came over me, but I did not know the whole of it till long and long after that time. Of course, there was not a word of truth in the story, but almost any thing is allowable to save scandal, as the phrase is, and a pretty big fib told in the interest of the church is, at worst, a venial sin.

[CHAPTER V.]

THE THUNDER STRIKES.

I DO not propose to go very minutely into the details of my convent life. I remained at Dartford for several years, fairly content for the most part, though I now and then had a great desire after more freedom. I wearied of the trim grass plots, the orderly garden, and the orchard shut in from the rest of the world by high walls, and longed to find myself in the open fields, with no visible bound to my footsteps. I remembered my uncle's house in London, and wished myself back there, or with the family in their new home. For a time after their removal to Antwerp, I heard from the family. At least twice a year, a packet came with letters for me, and some valuable present for the house, of spice, or comfits, or wonderful lace, such as they know how to make in those parts. But after a time, these packets stopped coming, and for many a year, I had no news of these dear ones at all.

I had one visit from my Lady Peckham during this time. She came to London on some business about her husband's estate, which could not be easily settled, as there was no absolute proof that Randall was dead. The next heir was a distant relation of Sir Edward's, who lived near London. But this gentleman was an easy-going sort of person I fancy, or perhaps he did not care about burying himself in that wild part of Somersetshire. Any how, he agreed, in consideration of a certain share of the rents of the estate, to let Lady Peckham live in the house as long as she pleased. She had brought Sir Edward a good fortune, which was settled wholly on herself, so she was very well-to-do.

It seemed to me that she had altered very little. She had accepted the mantle and veil, and made the vow of perpetual widowhood, and so might be looked upon as, in some sort, a religious person as the phrase went in those times. She staid with us a month or more, and was, or professed to be, very much edified, though I think she was rather scandalized at the easiness of our rule, which was, indeed, very different from the discipline which used to be enforced at the house to which I had been first destined at Bridgewater. I do not mean to say that there was any disorder—far from it: but things went on in a comfortable, business-like fashion. There were so many services to be gone through, and they were gone through with all due gravity and decorum. We had beautiful singing, which people came from far and near to hear. We kept our fast days strictly enough as regards the eating of flesh meat, but our own stews gave us abundance of fish, and our orchard and garden supplied fruit and vegetables, so that we certainly did not suffer from our abstinence.