“Secondly; that she must leave the Nunnery and the neighbourhood, secretly; if it be possible, appearing in her new position, as your wife, without much question being raised as to whence she came.

“Thirdly:  that when her absence becomes known in the Nunnery, I am authorized solemnly to announce that she has been moved on by me, secretly, with the knowledge and approval of the Holy Father, to a place where she was required for higher service.”

The Bishop smiled as he pronounced the final words.  There was triumph in his eye.

The Knight still looked as if he felt himself to be dreaming; yet on his face was a great gladness of expectation.

“And, my lord,” he exclaimed joyously, “what news for her!  Shall you send it, in the morn, or yourself take it to her?”

The Bishop’s lips were pressed against his finger-tips.

“I know not,” he answered, slowly; “I know not that I shall either take or send it.”

“But, my lord, surely!  It will settle all doubts, solve all questions, remove all difficulties——­”

“Tut!  Tut!  Tut!” exclaimed the Bishop.  “Good heavens, man!  Dare I wed you to a woman you know so little?  Not for one instant, into her consideration of the matter, will have entered any question as to what Church or State might say or do.  For her the question stands upon simpler, truer, lines, not involved by rule or dogma:  ’Is it right for me, or wrong for me?  Is it the will of God that I should do this thing?’”

“But if you tell her, my lord, of the Holy Father’s dispensation and permission; what will she then say?”

“What will she then say?” Symon of Worcester softly laughed, as at something which stirred an exceeding tender memory.  “She will probably say:  ’You amaze me, my lord!  Indeed, my lord, you amaze me!  His Holiness the Pope may rule at Rome; you, my Lord Bishop, rule in the cities of this diocese; but I rule in this Nunnery, and while I rule here, such a thing as this shall never be!’”

The Bishop gently passed his hands the one over the other, as was his habit when a recollection gave him keen mental pleasure.

“That is what the Prioress would probably say, my dear Knight, were I so foolish as to flaunt before her this most priceless parchment.  And yet—­I know not.  It may be wise to send it, or to show it without much comment, simply in order that she may see the effect upon the mind of the Holy Father himself, of a full knowledge of the complete facts of the case.”

“My lord,” said the Knight, with much earnestness, “how came that full knowledge to His Holiness in Rome?”

“When first you came to me,” replied the Bishop, “with this grievous tale of wrong and treachery, I knew that if you won your way with Mora, we must be armed with highest authority for the marriage and for her return to the world, or sorrow and much trial for her might follow, with, perhaps, danger for you.  Therefore I resolved forthwith to lay the whole matter, without loss of time, before the Pope himself.  I know the Holy Father well; his openness of mind, his charity and kindliness; his firm desire to do justly, and to love mercy.  Moreover, his friendship for me is such, that he would not lightly refuse me a request.  Also he would, of his kindness, incline to be guided by my judgment.