"
The silence thereafter following was tense with conflict. The Bishop
turned his eyes to the figure of the Redeemer upon the cross,
self-sacrifice personified, while the Prioress mastered her emotion.
Then: "'Love never faileth,'" said the Bishop gently.
But the Prioress had regained command over herself, and the gentle
words were to her a challenge. She donned, forthwith, the breastplate
of holy resolve, and drew her sword.
"My Lord Bishop, you have wrung from me a confession of my love; but in
so doing, you have wrung from me a confession of sin. A nun may not
yield to such love as Hugh d'Argent still desires to win from me. With
long hours of prayer and vigil, have I sought to purge my soul from the
stain of a weak yielding--even for 'a moment'--to the masterful
insistence of this man, who forced himself, by the subterfuge of a
sacrilegious masquerade, into the sacred precincts of our Nunnery. I
know not whom he bribed"--continued the Prioress, flashing an indignant
glance of suspicion at the Bishop.
"'Love thinking no evil,'" murmured Symon of Worcester.
"But I do know, that somebody in high authority must have connived at
his plotting, or he could not have found himself alone in the crypt at
the hour of Vespers, in such wise as to assume our dress and, mingling
with the returning procession, gain entrance to the cloisters. And
somebody must still be aiding and abetting his plans, or he could not
be, as he himself told me he would be, daily in the crypt alone, during
the hour when we pass to and from the clerestory.
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