“At the extreme end of the meadow, wheeling sharply, she let him out into a canter.

“The nuns at this were petrified into dumbness.  One and all held their breath; while Mother Sub-Prioress—­nobody quite knew why—­turned upon Sister Mary Seraphine, and shook her.

“And the next moment the Prioress was among them, walking the palfrey slowly, settling her veil, which had streamed behind her as she cantered, bending to speak to one and another, as she passed.

“And the light of new life was in her eyes.  Her cheeks glowed, she seemed a girl again.

“Reining in Iconoklastes, she paused beside Mother Sub-Prioress and said——­”

The Bishop broke off, while he carefully stood the faggot-fork up in its corner.

“She paused and said:  ’None need remain here longer than they will.  But, being up and mounted, and our Lord Bishop in no haste for the return of his palfrey, it is my intention to ride for an hour.’”

Symon of Worcester turned and looked full at the Knight.

“And the Prioress rode for an hour,” he said.  “For a full hour, in the sunshine, on the soft turf of the river meadow, THE PRIORESS TRIED HER WINGS.”

CHAPTER XXIII

THE MIDNIGHT ARRIVAL

Hugh d’Argent sat speechless, returning the Bishop’s steady gaze.

No fear was in his face; only a great surprise.

Presently into the eyes of both there crept a look which was half-smile, half-wistful sorrow, but wholly trustful; a look to which, as yet, the Bishop alone held the key.

“So you know, my lord,” said Hugh d’Argent.

“Yes, my son; I know.”

“Since this morning?”

“Nay, then!  Since the first day you arrived with your story; asking such careful questions, carelessly.  But be not wroth with yourself, Hugh.  Faithful to the hilt, have you been.  Only—­no true lover was ever a diplomat!  Matters which mean more than life, cannot be dissembled by true hearts from keen eyes.”

“Then why all the talk concerning Seraphine?” demanded the Knight.

“Seraphine, my son, has served a useful purpose in various conversations.  Never before, in the whole of her little shallow, selfish life has Seraphine been so disinterestedly helpful.  That you sat here just now, thinking me witless beyond belief, just when I most desired not to appear to know too much, I owe to the swollen countenance of Seraphine.”

“My lord,” exclaimed the Knight, overcome with shame.  “My lord!  How knew you——­”

“Peace, lad!  Fash not thyself over it.  Is it not a part of my sacred office to follow in the footsteps of my Master and to be a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart?  Also, respecting, yea, approving your reasons for reticence, I would have let you depart not suspecting my knowledge of that which you wished to conceal, were it not that we must now face this fact together:—­Since penning that message of apparent finality, the Prioress has tried her wings.”