"My lord! How
knew you----"
"Peace, lad! Fash not thyself over it. Is it not a part of my sacred
office to follow in the footsteps of my Master and to be a discerner of
the thoughts and intents of the heart? Also, respecting, yea,
approving your reasons for reticence, I would have let you depart not
suspecting my knowledge of that which you wished to conceal, were it
not that we must now face this fact together:--Since penning that
message of apparent finality, the Prioress has tried her wings."
A rush of bewildered joy flooded the face of the Knight.
"Reverend Father!" he said, "think you that means hope for me?"
Symon of Worcester considered this question carefully, sitting in his
favourite attitude, his lips compressed against his finger-tips.
At length; "I think it means just this," he said. "A conflict, in her,
between the mental and the physical; between reason and instinct;
thought and feeling. The calm, collected mind sent you that reasoned
message of final refusal. The sentient body, vibrant with bounding
life, instinctively prepares itself for the possibility of the ride
with you to Warwick. This gives equal balance to the scale. But a
third factor will be called in, finally to decide the matter. By that
she will abide; and neither you nor I, neither earth nor hell, neither
things past, things present, nor things to come, could avail to move
her."
"And that third factor?" questioned the Knight.
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