How impossible to remake a reputation once broken. Before the
priceless Venetian goblet fell from the table on to the flagged floor,
one hand put forth in time might have hindered its fall. But--failing
that timely hand--when, a second later, it lies in a hundred pieces,
the hands of the whole world are powerless to make it again as it was
before it fell.
Faster, faster, Shulamite!
When the messenger of Mother Sub-Prioress reports the absence of the
Bishop, he will most certainly be sent in haste to Father Benedict, who
will experience a sinister joy at the prospect of following his long
nose into the Prioress's empty cell, who will scent out scandal where
there is but a fragrance of lilies, and tear to pieces Mora's
reputation, with as little compunction as a wolf tears a lamb.
Gallop, gallop, Shulamite! If no hand be put forth to save it, between
Mother Sub-Prioress and Father Benedict, this crystal bowl will be
broken into a hundred pieces.
At length the Bishop drew rein, and walked his mare a mile. He had
left Warwick ten miles behind him. He would soon be half-way to
Worcester.
He had left Warwick behind him!
It seemed to the Bishop that, ever since he had first known Mora de
Norelle, he had always been riding away and leaving behind.
For her sake he rode away, leaving behind the Court, his various
offices, his growing influence and popularity.
For her sake he left his identity as Father Gervaise at the bottom of
the ocean, taking up his life again, in Italy, under his other name.
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