no great surprise when she said suddenly, and in a very differentvoice, abrupt and resolute: “Brother Cadfael, I have thoughtsof taking the veil. Serious thoughts! The world is not so desirablethat I should hesitate to leave it, nor my condition so hopefulthat I dare look for a better time to come. The business can dovery well without me; Cousin Miles runs it very profitably, andvalues it more than I do. Oh, I do my duty well enough, as I wasalways taught to do, but he could do it every bit as well withoutme. Why should I hesitate?”

Cadfael turned to face her, the mortar balanced on his palm.“Have you said as much to your aunt and yourcousin?”

“I have mentioned it.”

“And what do they say to it?”

“Nothing. It’s left to me. Miles will neithercommend nor advise, he brushes it aside. I think he doesn’ttake me seriously. My aunt—you know her a little? She’swidowed like me, and for ever lamenting it, even after years. Shetalks of the peace of the cloister, and release from the cares ofthe world. But she always talks so, though I know she’s wellcontent with her comfortable life if the truth were told. I live,Brother Cadfael, I do my work, but I am not content. It would besomething settled and stable, to take to the cloister.”

“And wrong,” said Cadfael firmly. “Wrong, atleast, for you.”

“Why would it be so wrong?” she challenged. The hoodhad slipped back from her head, the great braid of light-brownhair, silver-lit like veined oak, glowed faintly in the subduedlight.

“No one should take to the cloistered life as asecond-best, and that is what you would be doing. It must beembraced out of genuine desire, or not at all. It is not enough towish to escape from the world without, you must be on fire for theworld within.”

“Was it so with you?” she asked, and suddenly shesmiled, and her austere face kindled into warmth for a moment.