At that, Hugh raised his head and looked up into her face, and the misery in his eyes stirred her tenderness as it had never been stirred by the vivid love-light or the soft depths of passion she had heretofore seen in them.
Her lips parted; her breath came quickly. She would have caught him to her bosom; she would have kissed away this unknown sorrow; she would have smothered the pain, in the sweetness of her embrace.
But bending swiftly he lifted the hem of her robe and touched it with his lips; then, rising, turned and left her without a word; without a backward look.
He left her standing there, alone in the banqueting hall. And as she stood listening, with beating heart, to the sound of his voice raised in command; to the quick movements of his horse's hoofs on the paving stones, as he swung into the saddle; to the opening of the gates and the riding forth of the little cavalcade, a change seemed to have come over her. She ceased to feel herself a happy, yielding bride, a traveller in distant lands, after long journeyings, once more at home.
She seemed to be again Prioress of the White Ladies. The calm fingers of the Cloister fastened once more upon her pulsing heart. The dignity of office developed her.
And wherefore?
Was it because, when her lips had bent above him in surrendering tenderness, her husband had chosen to give her the sign of reverent homage accorded to a prioress, rather than the embrace which would have sealed her surrender?
Or was it because he had asked her to bless him as she had been wont to bless the Poor at the Convent gate?
Or was it the unconscious action of his mind upon hers, he being suddenly called to face some difficulty which had arisen, concerning their marriage, or the Bishop's share in her departure from the Nunnery?
The clang of the closing gates sounded in her ears as a knell.