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Barclay, Florence L. (Florence Louisa), 1862-1921

"The White Ladies of Worcester A Romance of the Twelfth Century"

Each time they dismounted, she
saw him sign to Martin Goodfellow, and it was Martin who helped her to
alight.
All this, in rapid retrospect, passed through Mora's mind as she stood
alone beside her splendid Knight, miserably conscious that she had
shivered, and that he knew it; and fearful lest he divined the
shrinking of her soul away from him, away from love, away from all for
which love stood. Alas, alas! Why did this man--this most human,
ardent, loving man--hang all his hopes of happiness upon the heart of a
nun? Would it be possible that he should understand, that eight years
of cloistered life cannot be renounced in a day?
Mora looked at him again.
The stern profile might well be about to say: "Shudder again, and I
will do to thee that which shall give thee cause to shudder indeed!"
Yet, at that moment he spoke, and his voice was infinitely gentle.
"Yonder rides a true friend," he said. "One who has learned love's
deepest lesson."
"What is love's deepest lesson?" she asked.
He turned and looked at her, and the fire of his dark eyes was drowned
in tenderness.
"That true love means self-sacrifice," he said. "Come, my beloved.
Let us walk in the gardens, where we can talk at ease of our plans for
the days to come."


CHAPTER XL
THE HEART OF A NUN
Hugh and Mora passed together through the great hall, along the
armoury, down the winding stair and so out into the gardens.
The Knight led the way across the lawn and through the rose garden,
toward the yew hedge and the bowling-green.


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