A jewelled cross gleamed, there where his face had laid hidden.
Then the Knight lifted his eyes again to that stern, cold face. Yet
still he kept silence.
At length the Prioress spoke.
"So it is you," she said.
"Yes," said the Knight, "it is I."
Wroth with her own poor heart because it thrilled at his voice, the
Prioress spoke with anger.
"How did you dare to force your way into this sacred cloister?"
The Knight smiled. "I have yet to find the thing I dare not do."
"Why are you not with your wife?" demanded the Prioress; and her tone
was terrible.
"I am with my wife," replied the Knight. "The only wife I have ever
wanted, the only woman I shall ever wed, is here."
"Coward!" cried the Prioress, white with anger. "Traitor!" She leaned
forward, clenching her hands upon the lions' heads. "Liar! You wedded
your cousin, Alfrida, less than one year after you went from me."
"Cease to be angry," said the Knight. "Thine anger affrights me not,
yet it hurts thyself. Listen, mine own beloved, and I will tell thee
the cruel, and yet blessed, truth.
"Seven months after I left thee, a messenger reached our camp, bearing
letters from England; no word for me from thee; but a long missive from
thy half-sister Eleanor, breaking to me the news that, being weary of
my absence, and somewhat over-persuaded, thou hadst wedded Humphry;
Earl of Carnforth.
"It was no news to me, that Humphry sought to win thee; but, that thou
hadst let thyself be won away from thy vow to me, was hell's own
tidings.
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