Saint Joseph, bearded and stalwart, seemed to look down with compassion
upon the bowed head with its abundant silvery hair.
Even thus, it may be, had he himself wept when, after his time of hard
mental torture, the Angel of the Lord appeared unto him, saying: "Fear
not."
After a while the Bishop left the shrine, went over to the deed chest,
and laid the rose beside the white stone.
"There, my dear Hugh," he murmured; "thy stone, and my rose. Truly
they look well together. Each represents the triumph of firm resolve.
Yet mine will shortly fade and pass away; while thine, dear lad, will
abide forever."
The Bishop seated himself at his table, and sounded the silver gong.
A lay-brother appeared.
"_Benedicite_," said the Bishop. "Request Fra Andrea Filippo at once
to come hither. I must have speech with him, without delay."
CHAPTER LIII
ON THE HOLY MOUNT
On the ninth day since Hugh's departure, the day when fast riding might
make his return possible before nightfall, Mora rose early.
At the hour when she had been wont to ring the Convent bell, she was
walking swiftly over the moors and climbing the heather-clad hills.
She had remembered a little chapel, high up in the mountains, where
dwelt a holy Hermit, held in high repute for his saintliness of life,
his wisdom in the giving of spiritual counsel, and his skill in
ministering to the sick.
It had come to Mora, as she prayed and pondered during the night, that
if she could make full confession to this holy man, he might be able to
throw some clear beam of light upon the dark tangle of her perplexity.
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