With a sudden quickening of the pulse he saw his little wood nymph, her hands clasped and her face alight with devotion, but now a saint, transfigured, adorable.
He watched entranced; he could have bent before her, offering fealty, pleading only for some token so that he might remain her true knight, serving only in her cause.
The baser part of him was gone at that moment, and then she looked round for a brief moment, and their eyes met.
She turned quickly away, but he could see a dark flush spread over her lovely face; she had seen him, and the sight had not affected her as that of a mere stranger. The blood rushed to his head. He hastily scribbled a note on a leaf from his pocket book, and wrapped it in his hand.
The mood of piety had gone, and the hunting instinct was dominant. As the worshippers left the building he passed to her side, and as she turned to bow to Christ on His altar, he slipped the note into her hand.
The awful impiety of the act almost made her drop it, but she clutched it to her with a look of pain, and went out of the sacred building. In the privacy of her room, she furtively opened the crumpled piece of paper and read:
Dear little Angel. When I saw you tonight I adored you. You are far removed from all other beings. If you wish to save a suffering mortal, meet me in the woods where we last saw each other. Otherwise my death may be on your hands. Fear nothing, I will guard you as my own sister. At three tomorrow, but I will wait till you come.
Your devoted servant and knight,
Hugh Desmond.
In her maiden breast strange feelings were stirring. She knew it was wrong, that she ought to take the note to Sister Ursula at once and tell her the story which she had even withheld from the father at confession, but that was not possible. He had been so kind, he had not tried to stay her, or to say anything at which she could take offence. And now he said his life was at stake; perhaps he had some terrible trouble in which she could help him. If so surely she was doing right to give him aid.
So she hid the note under her pillow and dreamt of the morrow.
Desmond waited in the woods, picturing her as she had sat there in her girlish sweetness, when he had seen her, till the dusk of evening was coming on and the birds had ceased to sing. He rose stiff and cramped. Well, the gods had decided against him, so there was no use complaining. She had probably torn up the note or perhaps even handed it over to the Mother Superior.