The White Ladies were coming.
They came.
The Knight was not kept long in suspense. The Prioress walked first. Her face was hidden, but her height and carriage revealed her to her lover. She looked neither to right nor left but, turning away from the pillar behind which the Knight stood concealed, crossed to the steps leading down to the subterranean way, and so passed swiftly out of sight.
The Knight stood motionless until all had appeared, and had vanished once more from view.
One, tall but ungainly, crooked of body, and doubtless short of vision, missed her way among the columns and passed perilously near to the Knight. With his long arm, he could have clasped her. How old Antony would have chuckled, could she but have known! "Sister Mary Rebecca embraced by the Knight of the Bloody Vest? Nay then; the Saints forbid!"
The stretcher, borne by four men-at-arms, passed out from the Cathedral.
The Knight walked beside it, with bent head, and eyes upon the ground.
As it passed through the Precincts, the Lord Bishop himself rode out on his white palfrey, on his way to the Nunnery at Whytstone.
The Knight, being downhearted, did not lift his eyes.
The Bishop looked, kindly, upon the stretcher and upon the Knight's dark face.