With this hope filling her heart, Mother Sub-Prioress hastened along the passage, and rang the Convent bell.
* * * * * *
And at that moment, Mora stood within her chamber, looking over terrace, valley, and forest to where the sun had vanished below the horizon, leaving behind a deep orange glow, paling above to clear blue where, like a lamp just lit, hung luminous the evening star.
Hugh's arms were still wrapped about her. As they stood together at the casement, she leaned upon his heart. His strength enveloped her. His love infused a wondrous sense of well-being, and of home.
Yet of a sudden she lifted her head, as if to listen.
"What is it," questioned Hugh, his lips against her hair.
"Hush!" she whispered. "I seem to hear the Convent bell."
His arms tightened their hold of her.
"Nay, my belovèd," he said. "There is no place for echoes of the
Cloister, in the harmony of home."
She turned and looked at him.