"Farewell, my Love," he said. "Our Lady comfort thee; and may Heaven
forgive me, for that I have disturbed thy peace."
With which he lifted the hem of her robe, and pressed his lips upon it.
Thus he knelt, for a space, his dark head bent.
Slowly, slowly, the Prioress let drop her hands until, lightly as the
fall of autumn leaves,--sad autumn leaves--they rested upon his head,
in blessing and farewell.
But feeling his hair beneath her hands, she could not keep from softly
smoothing it, nor from passing her fingers gently in and out of its
crisp thickness.
Then her heart stood still, for of a sudden, in the silence, she heard
a shuddering sob.
With a cry, she bent and gathered him to her, holding his head first
against her knees, then stooping lower to clasp it to her breast; then
as his strong arms were flung around her, she loosed his head, and, as
he rose to his feet, slipped her arms about his neck, and surrendered
to his embrace.
His lips sought hers, and at once she yielded them. His strong hands
held her, and she, feeling the force of their constraint, did but clasp
him closer.
Long they stood thus. In that embrace a life-time of pain passed from
them, a life-time of bliss was born, and came with a rush to maturity,
bringing with it a sense of utter completeness. A world of sweetest
trust and certainty filled them; a joy so perfect, that the lonely
vista of future years seemed, in that moment, to matter not at all.
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