Presently he turned, still with his hands behind him, passed to the garden-door, left standing wide, and entered the library.
But not until he kneeled before the shrine of Saint Joseph did he move forward his right hand, and bring into view the rose placed therein by Verity.
It was many years since the Bishop had wept. He had not thought ever to weep again. Yet, at sight of the rose, plucked for him by the Angel-child, something gave way within him, and he fell to weeping helplessly.
Saint Joseph, bearded and stalwart, seemed to look down with compassion upon the bowed head with its abundant silvery hair.
Even thus, it may be, had he himself wept when, after his time of hard mental torture, the Angel of the Lord appeared unto him, saying: "Fear not."
After a while the Bishop left the shrine, went over to the deed chest, and laid the rose beside the white stone.
"There, my dear Hugh," he murmured; "thy stone, and my rose. Truly they look well together. Each represents the triumph of firm resolve. Yet mine will shortly fade and pass away; while thine, dear lad, will abide forever."
The Bishop seated himself at his table, and sounded the silver gong.
A lay-brother appeared.
"Benedicite," said the Bishop. "Request Fra Andrea Filippo at once to come hither. I must have speech with him, without delay."