At the same time, the hood slightly parting, the hand of a
man, lean and brown, gripped it close.
The Prioress looked long at that lean, brown hand.
Then she rose slowly to her feet.
"Shew me--thy--face," she said; and the tension of each word was like a
naked blade passing in and out of quivering flesh.
At sound of it the figure stood erect, took one step forward, flung
back the hood, tore open the robe and scapulary, loosing his arms from
the wide sleeves.
And--as the hood fell back--the Prioress found herself looking into a
face she had not thought to see again in life--the face of him who once
had been her lover.
CHAPTER XI
THE YEARS ROLL BACK
"Hugh!" exclaimed the Prioress.
And again, in utter bewilderment: "Hugh?"
And yet a third time, in a low whisper of horror, passing her left hand
across her eyes, as if to clear from her outer vision some nightmare of
the inner mind: "Hugh!"
The silent Knight still made no answer; but he flung aside the clinging
robes, stepped from out them, and strode forward, both arms
outstretched.
"Back!" cried the Prioress. But her hand had left the hilt of the
dagger. "Come no nearer," she commanded.
Then she sank into her chair, spreading her trembling hands upon the
carven manes of the lions.
The Knight, still silent, folded his arms across his breast.
Thus for a space they gazed on one another--these two, who had parted,
eight years before, with clinging lips and straining arms, a deep, pure
passion of love surging within them; a union of heart, made closer by
the wrench of outward separation.
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