They were gentle and well-nurtured women, chiefly belonging to the city and country families that furnished servants to the queens; and they applied themselves to various offices of charity, going forth into the city to tend the poor, and to teach the women and children.  The appointments of alms-folk and admissions to the school were chiefly made at their recommendation; and though a master taught all the book-learning in the busy hive of scholars—­eighty in number—­one or more of them instructed the little girls in spinning and in stitchery, to say nothing of gentle and modest demeanour.  There was a great look of happiness and good order about all; and the church, fair and graceful, seemed well to complete and rule the institution.  Esclairmonde could but sigh with a sort of regret as she left it, and let herself be conducted by Sir Richard Whittington to a refection at his beautiful house in Crutched Friars, built round a square, combining warehouse and manor-house; richly-carved shields, with the arms of the companies of London, supporting the tier of first-floor windows, and another row of brackets above supporting another overhanging story.  A fountain was in the centre of a beautiful greensward, with beds of roses, pansies, pinks, stars of Bethlehem, and other good old flowers, among which a monkey was chained to a tree, while a cat roamed about at a safe distance from him.

Alice Montagu raised a laugh by asking if it were the cat; to which her city namesake replied that ‘her master’ never could abide to be without a cat in memory of his first friend, and marshalled them into the beautiful hall, with wainscot lining below, surmounted by an arcade containing statues, and above a beautiful carved ceiling.  Here a meal was served to them, and the Lady talked with Whittington of the grand town-halls and other buildings of the merchants of the Low Countries, with whom he was a trader for their rich stuffs; and the visit passed off with no small satisfaction to both parties.

Esclairmonde sat in the barge on her return, looking out on the gray clear water, and on the bright gardens that sloped down to it, gay with roses and fruitful with mulberries, apples, and strawberries, and the mansions and churches that were never quite out of sight, though there were some open fields and wild country ere coming to Westminster, all as if she did not see them, but was wrapped in deep contemplation.

Alice at last, weary of silence, stole her arm round her waist, and peeped up into her face.  ’May I guess thy thoughts, sweet Clairette?  Thou wilt found such a hospice thyself?’

‘Say not I will, child,’ said Esclairmonde, with a crystal drop starting in each dark eye.  ‘I would strive and hope, but—­’

‘Ah! thou wilt, thou wilt,’ cried Alice; ’and since there are Beguines enough for their own Netherlands, thou wilt come to England and be our foundress here.’

‘Nay, little one; here are the bedeswomen of St. Katharine’s in London.’