told thee all."

With that the Knight left speaking; and, after the long steady
recitation, the ceasing of his voice caused a silence which, seemed, to
hold the very air suspended.

Not once had the Prioress made interruption. She had sat immovable,
her eyes upon his face, her hands gripping the arms of her chair. Long
before the tale was finished her sad eyes had overflowed, the tears
raining down her cheeks, and falling upon the cross at her breast.

When he had told all, when the deep, manly voice--now resolute, now
eager, now vibrant with fierce indignation, yet tender always when
speaking of her--at last fell silent, the Prioress fought with her
emotion, and mastered it; then, so soon as she could safely trust her
voice, she spoke.

CHAPTER XII

ALAS, THE PITY OF IT!

At length the Prioress spoke.

"Alas," she said, "the pity of it! Ah, the cruel, _cruel_ pity of it!"

Her voice, so sweet and tender, yet so hopeless in the unquestioning
finality of its regret, struck cold upon the heart of the Knight.

"But, my beloved, I have found thee," he said, and dropping upon one
knee at her feet, he put out his hands to cover both hers. But the
Prioress was too quick for him. She hid her hands beneath her
scapulary. The Knight's brown fingers closed on the lions' heads.

"Touch me not," said the Prioress.

The Knight flushed, darkly.

"You are mine," he said. "Mine to have and to keep. During these
wretched years we have schooled ourselves each to think of the other as
wedded. Now we know that neither has been faithless. I have found
thee, my beloved, and I will not let thee go."

"Hugh," said the Prioress, "I _am_ wedded. You come too late. Saw you
not the sacred ring upon my hand? Know you not that every nun is the
bride of Christ?"

"You are mine!" said the Knight, fiercely; and he laid his great hand
upon her knee.

From beneath her scapulary, the Prioress drew the dagger.

"Before I went to the cloister door," she said, "I took this from its
hiding-place, and put it in my girdle. I guessed I had a man to deal
with; though, Heaven knows, I dreamed not it was thou! But I tell
thee, Hugh, if thou, or any man, attempt to lay defiling touch upon any
nun in this Priory--myself, or another--I strike, and I strike home.
This blade will be driven up to the hilt in the offender's heart."

The Knight rose to his feet, stepped to the window and leaned, with
folded arms, against the wall.