"He was the Ideal of my girlhood. For a time, I thought of him by day, I dreamed of him by night. No word of his have I ever forgotten. Many of his sayings and precepts have influenced, and still deeply influence, my whole life. In fact, Hugh, I loved Father Gervaise; not as a woman loves a man—ah, no! But, rather, as a nun loves her Lord."
"I see," said the Knight. "But you were not then a nun, Mora."
"No, I was not then a nun. But I have been a nun since then; and that is how I can best describe my love for the Queen's Confessor."
"Long after," said the Knight, "you were betrothed to me?"
"Yes, Hugh."
"How did you love me, Mora?"
Across the rustic table they looked full into each other's eyes. Tragedy, stalking around that rose-covered arbour, drew very near, and they knew it. Almost, his grim shadow came between them and the sunshine.
Then the Knight smiled; and with that smile rushed back the flood-tide of remembrance; remembrance of all which their young love had meant, of the sweet promise it had held.
His eyes still holding hers, she smiled also.
The golden roses clustering in the entrance swayed and nodded in the sunlight, as a gently rising breeze fanned them to and fro.