Her lips being free, she spoke.

“Thou wilt come back to me, Hugh,” she said.  “The Saracens will not slay thee, will not wound thee, will not touch thee.  My love will ever be around thee, as a silver shield.”

She flung her strong young arms about him, long and supple, enfolding him closely, even as his enfolded her.

He filled his hands with her soft hair, straining her closer.

“I would I left thee wife, not maid.  Could I have wed thee first, I would go with a lighter heart.”

“Wife or maid,” she answered, her face lifted to his, “I am all thine own.  Go with a light heart, dear man of mine, for it makes no difference.  Maid or wife, I am thine, and none other’s, forever.”

“Let those be the last words I hear thee say,” he murmured, as his lips sought hers.

So, a little later, standing above him on the turret steps, she bent and clasped her hands about his head, pushing her fingers into the thickness of his hair.  Then:  “Maid or wife,” she said, and her voice now steady, was deep and tender; “Maid or wife, God knows, I am all thine own.”  Then she caught his face to her breast.  “Thine and none other’s, forever,” she said; and he felt her bosom heave with one deep sob.

Then turning quickly he ran down the winding stair, reached the courtyard, mounted, and rode out through the gates of Castle Norelle, and into the fir wood; and so down south to follow the King, who already had started on the great Crusade.

And, as he rode, in moonlight or in shadow, always he saw the sweet lips that trembled, always he felt the soft heave of that sob, and the low voice so tender, said:  “Thine and none other’s, forever.”

* * * * * *

And now——­

The Prioress sat in her chair of state.

Each moment her face grew calmer and more stern.

The Knight let his eyes dwell on the fingers which once crept so tenderly into his hair.

She hid them beneath her scapulary, as if his gaze scorched them.

He looked at the bosom against which his head had been pressed.

A jewelled cross gleamed, there where his face had laid hidden.

Then the Knight lifted his eyes again to that stern, cold face.  Yet still he kept silence.

At length the Prioress spoke.

“So it is you,” she said.

“Yes,” said the Knight, “it is I.”

Wroth with her own poor heart because it thrilled at his voice, the Prioress spoke with anger.

“How did you dare to force your way into this sacred cloister?”

The Knight smiled.  “I have yet to find the thing I dare not do.”

“Why are you not with your wife?” demanded the Prioress; and her tone was terrible.

“I am with my wife,” replied the Knight.  “The only wife I have ever wanted, the only woman I shall ever wed, is here.”

“Coward!” cried the Prioress, white with anger.  “Traitor!” She leaned forward, clenching her hands upon the lions’ heads.  “Liar!  You wedded your cousin, Alfrida, less than one year after you went from me.”