monastic life--a lively, high-spirited, out-of-door creature, whom
the close conventionalities of castle life and even whipping could
not tame, and who had been the despair of her mother and of the
discreet dames to whom her first childhood had been committed, to say
nothing of a Lady Abbess or two. Indeed, from the Mother of Sopwell,
Dame Julian Berners, she had imbibed nothing but a vehement taste for
hawk, horse, and hound. The recluses of St. Mary, York, after being
heartily scandalised by her habits, were far from sorry to have a
good excuse for despatching her to their outlying cell, where, as
they observed, she would know how to show a good face in case the
Armstrongs came over the Border.

She came flying down on the first rumour of Lady Anne's return, her
veil turned back, her pace not at all accordant with the solemn gait
of a Prioress, her arms outstretched, her face, not young nor
handsome, but sunburnt, weather-beaten and healthy, and full of
delight. 'My child, my Nan, here thou art! I was just mounting to
seek for thee to the west, while Bertram sought again over the mosses
where we sent yester morn. Where hast thou been in the snow?'

'A shepherd took me to his hut, Lady Mother,' answered Anne rather
coldly.

'Little didst thou think of our woe and grief when thy palfrey was
found standing riderless at the stable door, and Sister Scholastica
told us that there he had been since nones! And she had none to send
in quest but Cuddie, the neatherd.'

'My palfrey fell with me when you were in full chase of hawk and
heron, 'and none ever turned a head towards me nor heard me call.'