Her imaginings become more real to her than realities."
"She hath a faithful heart," said the Bishop, "and a shrewd wit."
"Faithful? Aye," said the Prioress, "faithful and loving. Yet it is
but lately I have realised, the love, beneath her carefulness and
devotion." The Prioress bent her level brows, looking away to the
overhanging branches of the Pieman's tree. "How quickly, in these
places, we lose the very remembrance of the meaning of personal, human
love. We grow so soon accustomed to allowing ourselves to dwell only
upon the abstract or the divine."
"That is a loss," said the Bishop. He turned and began to pace slowly
toward the cloister; "a grievous loss, my daughter. Sooner than that
you should suffer that loss, beyond repair, I would let the daring
Knight of the Bloody Vest carry you off on swift wing. Better a
robin's nest, if, love be there, than a nunnery full of dead hearts."
He heard the quick catch of her breath, but gave her no chance to speak.
"'And now abideth faith, hope, love, these three,'" quoted the Bishop;
"'but the greatest of these is love.'"
They were moving through the cloisters. The Prioress turned in the
doorway, pausing that the Bishop might pass in before her.
"This, my lord," she said, with a fine sweep of her arm, "is the abode
of Faith and Hope, and also of that divine Love, which excelleth both
Hope and Faith."
"Nay," said the Bishop, "I pray you, listen.
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