“This time, my good Philip, you shall be the bearer of my letter.  Take with you, as escort, two of our men—­more, if you think needful.  Ride straight from here, by the most direct route to Castle Norelle, the home of the noble Countess, lately wedded to Sir Hugh.  I will make you a plan of the road.

“If, when you reach the place, Sir Hugh and his bride have arrived, ask to have speech with the Knight alone, and put the letter into his own hands.  But if they are yet on the way, ride to meet them, by a road I will clearly indicate.  Only be careful to keep out of sight of all save the Knight or his body-servant, Martin Goodfellow.

“The letter delivered, and the answer in thy hands, return, to me as speedily as may be, without overpressing men or steeds.  How soon canst thou set forth?”

“Within the hour, my lord,” said Brother Philip, joyfully, cured of his shame by this call to immediate service; “with an escort of three, that we may ride by night as well as by day.”

“Good,” said the Bishop; and, as the lay-brother, bowing low, hastened from the chamber, Symon of Worcester drew toward him writing materials, and penned afresh his warning to the Knight; not at such length as in the former missive, but making very clear the need for silence concerning Mary Antony’s previous knowledge of his visit to the Nunnery, lest Mora should come to doubt the genuineness of the vision which had brought her to her great decision, and which in very truth had been wholly contrived by the loving heart and nimble wits of Mary Antony.

So once again the Bishop stood at the casement in the banqueting hall; and, looking down into the courtyard, saw faithful Philip, with an escort fully armed, ride out at the Palace gates.

No time had been lost in repairing the mistake.  Yet there was heavy foreboding at the Bishop’s heart, as he paced slowly down the hall.

Greatly he feared lest this twenty-four hours’ delay should mean mischief wrought, which could never be undone.

Passing into the chapel, he kneeled long before the shrine of Saint Joseph praying, with an intense fervour of petition, that his warning might reach the Knight before any word had passed his lips which could shake Mora’s belief in that which was to her the sole justification for the important step she had taken.

The Bishop prayed and fasted; fasted, prayed, and kept vigil.  And all the night through, in thought, he followed Brother Philip and his escort as they rode northward, through the forests, up the glens, and over the moors, making direct for Mora’s home, to which she and Hugh were travelling by a more roundabout way.

CHAPTER XLIII

MORA MOUNTS TO THE BATTLEMENTS

The moonlight, shining in at the open casement, illumined, with its clear radiance, the chamber which had been, during the years of her maidenhood, Mora de Norelle’s sleeping apartment.