Hearing it from Mora, he was spared the quaint turn which was bound to
be given to any recital, however sacred, heard direct from old Mary
Antony.
The Knight was a Crusader. Many a fight he had fought for that cause
representing the highest of Christian ideals. Also, he had been a
pilgrim, and had visited innumerable holy shrines. For years, his soul
had been steeped in religion, in that Land where true religion had its
birth, and all within him, which was strongest and most manly, had
responded with a simplicity of faith, yet with a depth of ardent
devotion, which made his religion the most vital part of himself. This
it was which had given him a noble fortitude in bearing his sorrow.
This it was which now gave him a noble exultation in accepting his
great happiness. It filled him with rapture, that his wife should have
been given to him in direct response to his own earnest petition.
When at length Mora stood up, stretching her arms above her head and
straightening her supple limbs:
"My beloved," he said, "if the vision had not been given, wouldst thou
not have come to me? Should I have had to ride away from Worcester
alone?"
Standing beside him, she answered, tenderly:
"Dear Hugh, my most faithful and loyal Knight, being here--and oh so
glad to be here--how can I say it? Yet I must answer truly. But for
the vision, I should not have come. I could not have broken my vows.
No blessing would have followed had I come to you, trailing broken
vows, like chains behind me.
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