How long he kneeled and gazed without stirring, Hugh could not tell.
At that moment life paused suspended, and he ceased to be conscious of
time. But, at length, pressing nearer, his own dark head appeared in
the shield, and above him, bending toward him, Mora, shimmering in
softest white, as on her wedding morn, her hands outstretched, her eyes
full of a tender yearning, gazing into his.
"The Vision for which I prayed!" cried the Knight. "O, my God! Is
this the sign of Thy nearness? Is this a promise that my wife will
come to me?"
He hid his face in his hands.
A gentle touch fell lightly on his hair.
"Not a promise, Hugh," came a tender whisper close behind him. "A sign
of God's nearness; a proof of mine. Hugh, my own dear Knight, lift up
your head and look. Your wife has come home."
Leaping to his feet, he turned; still dazzled, incredulous.
No shadowy reflection this. His wife stood before him, fair as on her
wedding morning, a jewelled circlet clasping the golden glory of her
hair. But his eyes saw only the look in hers.
Yet he kept his distance.
"Mora?" he whispered. "Home? To stay? Hath a true vision then been
granted thee?"
"Oh, Hugh," she answered, "I have seen deep into the heart of a true
man. I have seen myself unworthy, in the light of thy great loyalty.
I have seen all others fail, but my Knight of the Silver Shield stand
faithful. I have been shewn this by so strange a chance, that I humbly
take it to be the Finger of God pointing out the pathway of His will.
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