All about them was darkness, silence as of the tomb; the heavy smell of
earth; the dank chill of the grave.
Yet theirs was life more abundant; theirs, joy undreamed of; theirs,
love beyond all imagining, while those moments lasted.
Then----
The hands about his neck loosened, unclasped, fell gently away.
He set free her lips, and they took their liberty.
He unlocked his arms, and stepping back she stood erect, like a fair
white lily, needing no prop nor stay.
So they stood for a space, looking upon one another in silence. This
thing which had happened, was too wonderful for speech.
Then the Prioress turned the key in the lock.
The heavy door swung open.
A dim, grey light, like a pearly dawn at sea, came downwards from the
crypt.
Without a word the Knight, bending his head, passed under the archway,
mounted the steps, and was lost to view among the many pillars.
She closed the door, locked it, and withdrawing the key, stood alone
where they had stood together.
Then, sinking to the ground, she laid her face in the dust, there where
his feet had been.
It was farewell, here and now; farewell forever.
* * * * * *
After a while the Prioress rose, took up the lantern, and started upon
her lonely journey, back to the cloister door.
CHAPTER XV
"SHARPEN THE WITS OF MARY ANTONY"
When the Prioress started upon her pilgrimage to the Cathedral with the
Knight, she locked the door of her chamber, knowing that thus her
absence would remain undiscovered; for if any, knocking on the door,
received no answer, or trying it, found it fast, they would hasten away
without question; concluding that some special hour of devotion or time
of study demanded that the Reverend Mother should be free from
intrusion.
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