Instantly the keen eyes were searching his face. A line of crimson leapt to the Bishop's cheek, as if a whip-lash had been drawn across it.
Presently: "Fool!" he whispered, but the word savoured more of pitying tenderness than of scorn. Alas! was there ever so knightly a fool, or so foolish a knight! "What was the trouble, boy? Didst find that after all she loved thee not?"
"Nay," said Hugh, quickly, "I thank God, and our Lady, that my wife loves me as I never dreamed that such as I could be loved by one so perfect in all ways as she. But—at first—all was so new and strange to her. It was wonder enough to be out in the world once more, free to come and go; to ride abroad, looking on men and things. I put her welfare first. . . . Nay, it was easy, loving her as I loved, also greatly desiring the highest and the best. Father, I wanted what you spoke of as the Madonna in the Home. Therefore—'twas I who made the plan—we agreed that, the wedding having of necessity been so hurried, the courtship should follow, and we would count ourselves but betrothed, even after reaching Castle Norelle, for just so many days or weeks as she should please; until such time as she herself should tell me she was wishful that I should take her home. But—each day of the ride northward had been more perfect than that which went before; each hour of each day, sweeter than the preceding. Thus it came to pass that on the very evening of our arrival at Mora's home, after parting for the night at the door of her chamber, we met again on the battlements, where years before we had said farewell; and there, seated in the moonlight, she told me the wonder of our Lady's grace in the vision; and, afterwards, in words of perfect tenderness, the even greater wonder of her love, and that she was ready on the morrow to ride home with me. So we parted in a rapture so deep and pure, that sleep came, for very joy of it. But early in the morning I was wakened by a rapping at my door, and there stood Brother Philip, holding your letter, Reverend Father."
"Alas!" said the Bishop. "Would that I had known she would have whereby to explain away thy memory of that which I had said."
Yet the Bishop spoke perfunctorily; he spoke as one who, even while speaking, muses upon other matters. For, within his secret soul, he was fighting the hardest temptation yet faced by him, in the whole history of his love for Mora.
By rapid transition of mind, he was back on the seat in the garden of the White Ladies' Nunnery, left there by Mary Antony while she went to fetch the Reverend Mother. He was looking up the sunny lawn toward the cloisters, from out the shade of the great beech tree. Presently he saw the Prioress coming, tall and stately, her cross of office gleaming upon her breast, her sweet eyes alight with welcome. And at once they were talking as they always talked together—he and she—each word alive with its very fullest meaning; each thought springing to meet the thought which matched it.
Next he saw himself again on that same seat, looking up the lawn to the sunlit cloisters; realising that never again would the Prioress come to greet him; facing for the first time the utter loneliness, the irreparable loss to himself, of that which he had accomplished for Hugh and Mora.
The Bishop's immeasurable loss had been Hugh's infinite gain. And now that Hugh seemed bent upon risking his happiness, the positions were reversed. Would not his loss, if he persisted, be the Bishop's gain?
How easy to meet her on the road, a few miles from Worcester; to proceed, with much pomp and splendour, to the White Ladies' Nunnery; to bid them throw wide the great gates; to ride in and, then and there, reinstate Mora as Prioress, announcing that the higher service upon which the Holy Father had sent her had been duly accomplished. Picture the joy in the bereaved Community! But, above and beyond all, picture what it would mean to have her there again; to see her, speak with her, sit with her, when he would. No more loneliness of soul, no more desolation of spirit; and Mora's conscience at rest; her mind content.
But at that, being that it concerned the woman he loved, the true soul of him spoke up, while his imaginative reason fell silent.