He pointed to where he had laid it:  her white habit, scapulary, wimple, veil and girdle; the dress of a Prioress of the Order of the White Ladies.

She turned her startled eyes upon it.  Then quickly looked away.

“Did you yourself think a vision needed, in order that I might be justified in leaving the Convent, Hugh?”

“Nay, then,” he cried, “always from the first I held thee mine in the sight of Heaven.”

“Are you of opinion that, the vision being proved no vision, I should go back?”

“No!” said the Knight; and the word fell like a blow from a battle-axe.

“Does the Bishop expect that I shall return?”

“Yes,” replied the Knight, groaning within himself that she should have chanced to change the form of her question.

“He would so expect,” mused Mora.  “He would be sure I should return.  He remembers my headstrong temper, and my imperious will.  He remembers how I tore the Pope’s mandate, placing my foot upon it.  He knows I said how that naught would suffice me but a divine vision.  Also he knoweth well the heart of a nun; and when I asked him if the heart of a nun could ever become as the heart of other women, he did most piously ejaculate:  ‘Heaven forbid?’”

Little crinkles of merriment showed faintly at the corners of her eyes.  The Bishop would have seen them, and smiled responsive.  But the sad Knight saw them not.

“Mora,” he said, “I leave thee free.  I hold thee to no vows made through falsehood and fraud.  I rate thy peace of mind before mine own content; thy true well-being, before mine own desires.  Leaving thee free, dear Heart, I must leave thee free to choose.  Loving thee as I love thee, I cannot stay here, yet leave thee free.  My anguish of suspense would hamper thee.  Therefore I purpose now to ride to my own home.  Martin will ride with me.  But tomorrow he will return, to ask if there is a message; and the next day, and the next.  The Bishop allowed four days for hesitation.  If thy decision should be to return to the Nunnery, his command is that thou ride the last stage of the journey fully robed, wearing thy cross of office.  He himself will meet thee five miles this side of Worcester, and riding in, with much pomp and ceremony, will announce to the Community that, the higher service to which His Holiness sent thee, being accomplished——­”

“Accomplished, Hugh?”

The Knight smiled, wearily.  “I quote the Bishop, Mora.  He will explain that he now reinstates thee as Prioress of the Order.  The entire Community will, he says, rejoice; and he himself will be ever at hand to make sure that all is right for thee.”

“These plans are well and carefully laid, Hugh.”

“They who love thee have seen to that, Mora.”

“Who will ride with me from here to Worcester?”

“Martin Goodfellow, and a little band of thine own people.  A swifter messenger will go before to warn the Bishop of thy coming.”