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Orleans； and it was while daily soothing and ministering to her sorrow that Esclairmonde heard the strange wild tales of the terrible witch maiden who had appeared on behalf of the French； and turned whole English armies to flight； by power that the French declared to come from the saints； but which the English never doubted to be infernal。 Maimed and wounded soldiers； whom Esclairmonde relieved and tended as they returned from lost battles； gave her fearful accounts of the panic that La Pucelle inspired。 Even the hardy veteran； Sir John Fastolfe； had not been able to withstand her spells； but had fled from the field of Jergeau； where gallant Sir Ralf Percy had died； in a vain attempt to gather the men to resist the irresistible maiden。 His groom； who had succumbed for a time to wounds and weakness on his way home to Alnwick； was touched by the warmth and emotion with which the kind bedeswoman listened to his lamentation over the good and loyal knight； whom she pictured to herself resisting the enchantress's dread power as dauntlessly as he had defied the phantoms of the Dance of Death。
No whisper ever reached Esclairmonde that the terrible Pucelle was a maiden as pure and high…souled as herself。 All that she heard more was that this terror of the English and Burgundians was taken； imprisoned for a time by her own Luxemburg kindred； and then carried to Rouen； where the kind Duchess Anne of Bedford did her best to persuade her to overcome the superstition that kept her in male garments； thus greatly tending to increase the belief in her connection with the powers of evil。 French and Burgundian bishops； and even the University of Paris； were the judges of the maiden； and the dastard prince she had crowned never stirred a finger nor uttered a protest in her behalf。 Bedford； always disposed to belief in witchcraft； acquiesced in the decision of Churchmen； which was therefore called the judgment of the Church； but when he removed himself and his duchess from Rouen； and left the conduct of the matter to the sterner and harder Beauchamp； Earl of Warwick； it was with little thought that after…generations would load his memory with the fate of Jeanne d'Arc； as though her sufferings had proceeded from his individual malice。
Esclairmonde never saw Bedford again； and only heard through Alice； now Countess of Salisbury； how when good Duchess Anne was dead； and her gentle influence removed； Burgundy's disinclination to the English cause was no longer balanced； and how Bedford； perplexed； disheartened； broken in health； but still earnest to propitiate friends for his helpless nephew； had listened to the wily whisper of the Bishop of Therouenne； that his niece； Jaquette； would secure the devotion of the Count de St。 Pol； and that she was moreover like unto another Demoiselle de Luxemburg。
How like； Esclairmonde could judge； when her kinswoman； widowed in her eighteenth year； at six months' end； came to London to claim her dower。 Never； since her days of wandering and anxiety； had Esclairmonde felt such pain as when she perceived how little store the thoughtless girl had set by the great and noble spirit that had been quenched under the load of toil and care with which it had battled for thirteen long years。 Faithful； great…hearted Bedford； striving to uphold a losing cause； to reconcile selfish contentions； to retain conquests that； though unjustly made； he had no power to relinquish； and all without one trustworthy relation； with friends and fellow…warriors dying； disputing； betraying； or deserting； his was as self…devoted and as mournful a career as ever was run by any prince at any age of the world； and while he slept in his grave at Rouen； that grave which even Louis XI。 respected； Esclairmonde； as； like a true bedeswoman of St。 Katharine； she joined in the orisons for the repose of the souls of the royal kindred； never heard the name of the Lord John without a throb of prayer； and a throb too that warmed her heart with tenderness。
It was some four years later； and the even tenor of Sister Clare's course had only been interrupted by her kinswoman； Jaquette； making her way to her to confess her marriage with Richard Wydville； and to entreat her intercession with the Luxemburg family； when one summer night she was called on to attend a pilgrim priest from the Holy Land； who had been landed from a Flemish vessel； and lay dangerously sick at the 'God's house；' or hospital； by the river side。 He was thought by his accent to be foreign； and Sister Clare was always called on to wait upon the stranger。
As she stood by his bedside； she beheld a man of middle age； but wasted with sickness； and with a certain strange look of horror so imprinted on his brow； that even as he lay asleep； though his mouth was grave and peaceful； the lines were still there； and the locks that hung from around his tonsure were of a whiteness that scarce accorded with the features。 It was a face that Esclairmonde could not look at without waking strange memories； but it was not till the sleeper awakened； opened two dark eyes； gazed on her with dreamy doubtful wonder； and then clasped his hands with the murmured thanksgiving； 'My God； hast Thou granted me this？ Light of my life！' that she was assured to whom she was speaking。
Malcolm Stewart it verily was。 Canon Malcolm Stewart of Dunkeld was his proper title； for he had； as she knew； long ceased to be Lord of Glenuskie。 It was not at first that she knew how he had been brought where she now saw him； but after some few days of her tender care and skilful leechcraft； he somewhat rallied； and she gathered his history from his conversation when he was able to speak。
He had had a time of happy labour in Scotland； fully carrying out the designs with which he and his cousin James Kennedy had taken upon them the ministry。 Their own birth； and the appointments their King gave them； so soon as their age permitted； made them able to exert an influence that told upon the rude and unenlightened clergy around。 It had been almost a mission of conversion； to awaken a spirit of Christianity in the country； that had so long been a prey to anarchy。 The King's declaration； 'I will make the key keep the castle； and the bracken…bush keep the cow； though I live the life of a dog to bring it about；' had been the moving spring of their lives。 James had fought hour by hour with the foul habits of lawlessness； savagery； and violence； that had hitherto been absolutely unchecked； and while he strove with the sword of justice； the two young priests worked within the Word of truth； to implant some sense of conscience in the neglected people。
It had been a life of constant exertion； but full of hope and cheerfulness。 Amid that rude country； James's own home was always a bright spot of peace； sunshine； and refinement。 With his beloved queen； and their fair little brood of children； the King cast aside his cares； and was all； and more than all； he had been as the ornament of Henry's Court。 There all that was sweet； innocent； and beautiful was to be found； and there Malcolm； his royal kinsman's confidant； counsellor； and chaplain； was always welcome as one of the home circle and family； till he broke away from such deligh