But the lover has to learn the harder lesson; he has to
give up Self, even the Self which holds honour dear. When you polished
your silver shield, keeping it so bright, what saw you reflected
therein? Why, your own proud face. Even so, now, you fear the
faintest tarnish on your sense of honour, but you will keep that silver
shield bright at Mora's expense, riding on proudly alone in your glory,
reflecting the sun, dazzling all beholders, while your wife who loved
and trusted you, Mora, who told you the sweet wonder of her love in
words of deepest tenderness, lies desolate in the dark, with a
shattered life, and a broken heart. Hugh, I would have you think of
the treasure of her golden heart, rather than of the brightness of your
own selfish, silver shield."
"Selfish!" cried the Knight. "Selfish! Is it selfish to hold honour
dear? Is it selfish to be ashamed to deceive the woman one loves?
Have I, who have so striven in all things to put her welfare first,
been selfish towards my wife in this hour of crisis?"
He sat down, heavily; leaned his elbows on his knees, and dropped his
head into his hands.
This attitude of utter dejection filled the Bishop with thankfulness.
Was he, in the very moment when he had given up all hope of winning,
about to prove the victor?
"Perilously selfish, my dear Hugh," he said. "But, thank Heaven, no
harm has yet been done. Listen to me and I will shew you how you may
keep your honour safely untarnished, yet withhold from Mora all
knowledge which might cause her disquietude of mind, thus securing her
happiness and your own.
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