"What a bridal morn!" she cried. "All nature says 'Awake! Arise!' Yet I have slept so late. I must quickly prepare myself to find and to greet my lover."
"Do it now!" sang the thrush.
Half an hour later, fresh and fragrant as the morn, Mora left her chamber and made her way to the great staircase.
Hearing shouting in the courtyard, and the trampling of horses' feet, she paused at a casement, and looked down.
To her surprise she saw the well-remembered figure of Brother Philip, mounted; with him three other horsemen wearing the Bishop's livery, and Martin Goodfellow leading Hugh's favourite steed, ready saddled.
Much perplexed, she passed down the staircase, and out on to the terrace where she had bidden them to prepare the morning meal.
From the terrace she looked into the banqueting hall, and her perplexity grew; for there Hugh d'Argent, booted and spurred, ready for a journey, strode up and down.
For two turns she watched him, noting his knitted brows, and the heavy forward thrust of his chin.
Then, lifting his eyes as he swung round for the third time, he saw her, outside in the sunlight; such a vision of loveliness as might well make a man's heart leap.
He paused in his rapid walk, and stood as if rooted to the spot, making no move toward her.