This morning Sister Ada told me that the Lady Joan had asked leave to
learn illuminating, so she would spend her mornings henceforth in the
illumination chamber. That will bring her with Margaret, who is much
there. Perchance she may tell her something.
It would be strange to see a niece or cousin of one's very own! I
marvel if she be akin to us. Somehow, since I had that night watch with
Margaret, my heart does not feel exactly the dry, dead thing it used to
do in times past. I fancy I could love a kinswoman, if I had one.
Sister Gaillarde said such a strange thing to me to-day. I was
remarking that the talk in the recreation-room was so often vapid and
foolish--all about such little matters: we never seemed to take an
interest in any great or serious subject.
"Sister Annora," said she, with one of her grim smiles, "I always looked
to see you turn out a reformer."
"Me!" cried I.
"You," said she.
"But a reformer is a great, grand man, with a hard head, and a keen wit,
and a ready tongue!" said I.
"Why should it not be a woman with a soft heart?" quoth Sister
Gaillarde.
"_Ha, jolife_!" cried I. "Sister Gaillarde, you may be cut out for a
reformer, but I am sure I am not."