“On that morning, finding the old lay-sister knew more than any supposed, and was wholly devoted to the Prioress, I had chanced to remark to her as I rode out of the courtyard that the Reverend Mother would thrust happiness from her with both hands unless our Lady herself offered it, by vision or revelation.

“Whereupon, my dear Knight, that faithful old heart using wits she had prayed our Lady to sharpen, contrived a vision of her own devising, so wondrously contrived, so excellently devised, that Mora—­not dreaming of old Antony’s secret knowledge—­could not fail to believe it true.  In fact, my son, you may praise heaven for an old woman’s wits, for, as you will doubtless some day hear from Mora herself, they gave you your wife!

“But beware lest any chance words of yours lead Mora to suspect the genuineness of the vision.  It would cost HER her peace of mind.  It might cost YOU her presence.

“Meanwhile the aged lay-sister died yesterday, after having mystified the entire Community by locking herself into the Prioress’s cell, and remaining there, from the time she found it empty when the nuns returned from Vespers, until I arrived on the following afternoon.  She thus prevented any questionings concerning Mora’s flight, and averted possible scandal.  But the twenty-four hours without food or drink cost the old woman her life.  A faithful heart indeed, and a most shrewd wit!

“Some day, if occasion permit, I will recount to you the full story of Mary Antony’s strategy.  It is well worth the hearing.

“I trust your happiness is complete; and hers, Hugh, hers!

“But we must take no risks; and never must we forget that, in dealing with Mora, we are dealing with the heart of a nun.

“Therefore, my son, be wary.  Heaven grant this may reach you without delay, and in time to prevent mischief."_

When the messenger, fully equipped for his journey, was brought before the Bishop by Brother Philip, this letter lay ready, sealed, and addressed to Sir Hugh d’Argent, at Warwick Castle in the first place, but failing there, to each successive stopping place upon the northward road, including Castle Norelle, which, the Bishop had gathered, was to be reached on the seventh day after leaving Warwick.

So presently the messenger swung into the saddle, and rode out through the great gates.  In a leathern wallet at his belt, was the letter, and a good sum of money for his needs on the journey; and in his somewhat stolid mind, the Bishop’s very simple instructions—­simple, yet given with so keen a look, transfixing the man, that it seemed to the honest fellow he had received them from the point of a blue steel blade.

He was to ride to Warwick, without drawing rein; to wake the porter at the gate, and the seneschal within, no matter at what hour he arrived.  If the Knight were still at the Castle, the letter must be placed in his hands so soon as he left his chamber in the morning.  But had he already gone from Warwick, the messenger, after food and rest for himself and his horse, was to ride on to the next stage and, if needful, to the next, until he overtook Sir Hugh and delivered into his own hands, with as much secrecy as possible, the letter.