There was silence. Lady Eleanor clasped her shadowy blue-veined
hands under her chin, and in her eyes too was a great longing.

"It seemeth to me small wonder that Brother Ambrose fell sick," she
said, at length.

Hilarius nodded:

"He had ever a patient, wistful look as of one from home; and often
he would sit musing in the cloister and scarce give heed to the
Office bell."

"Methinks, Hilarius, it will be passing sweet to dwell in that Holy
City."

"Nay, lady," said her page tenderly, "surely thou hast had a vision
even as Brother Ambrose, for thine eyes wait always, like unto
his."

Eleanor shook her head, and two tears crept slowly from the shadow
of her eyes.

"Nay, not to such as I am is the vision vouchsafed; though my
desire is great, 'tis ever clogged by sin; and for this same reason
I would get me to a cloister where I might fast and pray
unhindered."

Hilarius looked at her with great compassion.