Her lips parted; her breath came quickly. She would have caught him to
her bosom; she would have kissed away this unknown sorrow; she would
have smothered the pain, in the sweetness of her embrace.
But bending swiftly he lifted the hem of her robe and touched it with
his lips; then, rising, turned and left her without a word; without a
backward look.
He left her standing there, alone in the banqueting hall. And as she
stood listening, with beating heart, to the sound of his voice raised
in command; to the quick movements of his horse's hoofs on the paving
stones, as he swung into the saddle; to the opening of the gates and
the riding forth of the little cavalcade, a change seemed to have come
over her. She ceased to feel herself a happy, yielding bride, a
traveller in distant lands, after long journeyings, once more at home.
She seemed to be again Prioress of the White Ladies. The calm fingers
of the Cloister fastened once more upon her pulsing heart. The dignity
of office developed her.
And wherefore?
Was it because, when her lips had bent above him in surrendering
tenderness, her husband had chosen to give her the sign of reverent
homage accorded to a prioress, rather than the embrace which would have
sealed her surrender?
Or was it because he had asked her to bless him as she had been wont to
bless the Poor at the Convent gate?
Or was it the unconscious action of his mind upon hers, he being
suddenly called to face some difficulty which had arisen, concerning
their marriage, or the Bishop's share in her departure from the Nunnery?
The clang of the closing gates sounded in her ears as a knell.
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