As the words were spoken which made her a wife, it seemed as if the
Bishop gently wrapped her about with a fresh mantle of dignity--that
dignity which had fallen from her in those moments of humiliation when,
at Hugh's bidding she laid herself down upon the stretcher.
The Bishop voiced the Church with a pomp and power which could not be
withstood; and when, in obedience to his command Hugh grasped her right
hand with his right hand, and the Bishop laid his own on either side of
their clasped hands, and pronounced them man and wife, it seemed indeed
as if a Divine touch united them, as if a Divine voice ratified their
vows and sanctified their union.
Mora had never before seen the _man_ so completely merged in his high
office.
And, when all was over, even as he mounted Shulamite and rode away, he
rode out of the courtyard with the air of a Knight Templar riding
forth-to do battle in a Holy War.
It seemed to Mora that she had bidden farewell to her old friend of the
kindly smile, the merry eye, and the ready jest, in the early hours of
that morning, as together they left the arbour of the golden roses.
There remained therefore but one man to be considered: the "splendid
Knight" of old Antony's vision; the lover who had pursued her into her
Nunnery; wooed her in her own cell, unabashed by the dignity of her
office; mastered her will; forced her numbed heart to awaken, disturbed
by the thrill of an unwilling tenderness; moved her to passion by the
poignant anguish of a parting, which she regarded as inevitably final;
won the Bishop over, to his side, and, through him, the Pope; and
finally, by the persistence of his pleadings, moved our blessed Lady to
vouchsafe a vision on his behalf.
Pages:
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310