"
"I have so felt her, since the knowledge reached me," agreed the Knight.
The efficacy of the soothing drug taken by the Bishop was strained to
its utmost.
"And what then do you propose to do, my son, with this wedded Prioress?
Do you expect her to remain with you in your home, content to fulfil
her wifely duties?"
"I fear," said the Knight sadly, "that she will leave me."
"And I am certain she will leave you," said the Bishop.
"It was largely this fear for the future which brought me at once to
you, my lord. If Mora desires, as you say, to consider herself as she
was, before she was tricked into leaving the Convent, will you arrange
that she shall return, unquestioned, to her place as Prioress of the
White Ladies of Worcester?"
"Impossible!" said the Bishop, shortly. "It is too late. We can have
no Madonna groups in Nunneries, saving those carven in marble or stone."
To which there followed a silence, lasting many minutes.
Then the Knight said, with effort, speaking very low: "It is _not_ too
late."
Instantly the keen eyes were searching his face. A line of crimson
leapt to the Bishop's cheek, as if a whip-lash had been drawn across it.
Presently: "Fool!" he whispered, but the word savoured more of pitying
tenderness than of scorn. Alas! was there ever so knightly a fool, or
so foolish a knight! "What was the trouble, boy? Didst find that
after all she loved thee not?"
"Nay," said Hugh, quickly, "I thank God, and our Lady, that my wife
loves me as I never dreamed that such as I could be loved by one so
perfect in all ways as she.
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