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Updated: July 18, 2025
"Thinkest thou we can do that, my Phyllis, any better than now?" asked Sir Norman Hylton. "We can all try," said Amphillis, softly. "And God, our God, shall bless us." She had one brother, Count Loys the First of Flanders, who fell at Crecy. Many modern writers call her Jeanne; but her name in the contemporary public records of England is invariably Margareta.
To-morrow, maybe when the vexed brain hath slept, and gentle time hath somewhat dulled the first sharp edge of her cruel sorrow then I may speak and be heard. But now she is in that valley of the shadow, where no voice can reach her save that which once said, `Lazarus, come forth! and which the dead shall hear in their graves at the last day." "God comfort her, poor Lady!" said Amphillis.
These were the most valuable articles that had ever yet been in her possession, and Amphillis felt herself very rich, though she could have dispensed with Ricarda's envious admiration of her treasures, and Alexandra's acetous remarks about some people who were always grabbing as much as they could get.
"Amphillis Neville, and your servant, Mistress." "Canst hold thy peace when required so to do?" Amphillis smiled. "I would endeavour myself so to do." "Canst be patient when provoked of other?" "With God's grace, Mistress, I so trust." Alexandra's face wore an expression of dismay.
Mistress Regina, I pray you to allow of another to speak with this maid in your chamber to-morrow in the even, and this time it shall be the lady that must make choice. Not she that shall be thy mistress, my maid; she dwelleth not hereaway, but far hence." Amphillis cared very little where her future duties were to lie.
King Edward was in his second childhood when he died at sixty-five; while "old John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster," scarcely passed his fifty-ninth birthday. "Is she sick?" said Amphillis, pityingly. She had not seen her mistress for several days, for her periods of attendance on her were fitful and uncertain. "She is very sick, and Father Jordan hath tried his best."
"I reckon so," said Amphillis, calmly, as she put away her brush, and began undressing. "I would make sure, if I were thou. Who reigns in thine inner soul, Phyllis?" "Soothly, Mistress, I myself. None other, I ween." "Nay, one other must there needs be. Thou obeyest the rule of one of two masters either Christ our Lord, or Satan His enemy." "In very deed, Mistress, I serve God."
"Will none deliver an unhappy soul in Purgatory?" demanded a hollow moaning voice, followed by awful groans, such as Amphillis had not supposed it possible for Agatha to produce. "I rather reckon, my Saracen, thou'rt a soul out o' Purgatory with a body tacked to thee," said Meg, in the coolest manner. "Help thee? Oh ay, that I will, and bring thee back to middle earth out o' thy pains. Come then!"
"Then don't. I never asked you. My tongue is free, at any rate. You can go." And the Countess turned back to the black satin on which she was embroidering a wreath of red and white roses. "Follow me, Amphillis," said Lady Foljambe, with as much dignity as the Countess's onslaught had left her. She led the way into the opposite chamber, the one shared by Perrote and Amphillis.
Mistress Chaucer sat down on the bench, and with quiet but rapid glances appraised the three girls. Then she said to Amphillis "Is it thou whom I came to see?" Amphillis louted, and modestly assented, after which the lady took no further notice of the two who were the more anxious to attract her attention. "And what canst thou do?" she said. "What I am told, Mistress," said Amphillis.
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