according to her Benedictine rule, faithfully keeping her vows, and
following the guidance of the chaplain, a college friend of Bishop
Ridley, and rejoicing in the use of the vernacular prayers and
Scriptures. When Queen Mary had sent for her to consider of the
revival of convents, her views had been found to have so far
diverged from those of the Queen that Lord WalWyn was thankful to
have her safe at home again; and yet she fancied herself firm to
old Romsey doctrine. She was not learned, like Lady Walwyn, but
her knowledge in all needlework and confectionery was consummate,
so that half the ladies in Dorset and Wilts longed to send their
daughters to be educated at Hurst Walwyn. Her small figure and
soft cheeks had the gentle contour of a dove's form, nor had she
lost the conventual serenity of expression; indeed it was curious
that, let Lady Walwyn array her as she would, whatever she wore
bore a nunlike air. Her silken farthingales hung like serge robes,
her ruffs looked like mufflers, her coifs like hoods, even
necklaces seemed rosaries, and her scrupulous neatness enhanced the
pure unearthly air of all belonging to her.

Eager and lively, fair and handsome, sat the Baronne de Ribaumont,
or rather, since the higher title had been laid aside, Dame Annora
Thistlewood. The health of M. de Ribaumont had been shattered at
St. Quentin, and an inclement night of crossing the Channel had
brought on an attack on the lungs, from which he only rallied
enough to amaze his English friends at finding the gay dissipated
young Frenchman they remembered, infinitely more strict and rigid
than themselves. He was never able to leave the house again after
his first arrival at Hurst Walwyn, and sank under the cold winds of
the next spring, rejoicing to leave his wife and son, not indeed
among such strict Puritans as he preferred, but at least where the