etrified into dumbness. One and all held their
breath; while Mother Sub-Prioress--nobody quite knew why--turned upon
Sister Mary Seraphine, and shook her.

"And the next moment the Prioress was among them, walking the palfrey
slowly, settling her veil, which had streamed behind her as she
cantered, bending to speak to one and another, as she passed.

"And the light of new life was in her eyes. Her cheeks glowed, she
seemed a girl again.

"Reining in Iconoklastes, she paused beside Mother Sub-Prioress and
said----"

The Bishop broke off, while he carefully stood the faggot-fork up in
its corner.

"She paused and said: 'None need remain here longer than they will.
But, being up and mounted, and our Lord Bishop in no haste for the
return of his palfrey, it is my intention to ride for an hour.'"

Symon of Worcester turned and looked full at the Knight.

"And the Prioress rode for an hour," he said. "For a full hour, in the
sunshine, on the soft turf of the river meadow, THE PRIORESS TRIED HER
WINGS."

CHAPTER XXIII

THE MIDNIGHT ARRIVAL

Hugh d'Argent sat speechless, returning the Bishop's steady gaze.

No fear was in his face; only a great surprise.

Presently into the eyes of both there crept a look which was
half-smile, half-wistful sorrow, but wholly trustful; a look to which,
as yet, the Bishop alone held the key.

"So you know, my lord," said Hugh d'Argent.

"Yes, my son; I know."

"Since this morning?"

"Nay, then! Since the first day you arrived with your story; asking
such careful questions, carelessly. But be not wroth with yourself,
Hugh. Faithful to the hilt, have you been. Only--no true lover was
ever a diplomat! Matters which mean more than life, cannot be
dissembled by true hearts from keen eyes."

"Then why all the talk concerning Seraphine?" demanded the Knight.

"Seraphine, my son, has served a useful purpose in various
conversations. Never before, in the whole of her little shallow,
selfish life has Seraphine been so disinterestedly helpful. That you
sat here just now, thinking me witless beyond belief, just when I most
desired not to appear to know too much, I owe to the swollen
countenance of Seraphine."

"My lord," exclaimed the Knight, overcome with shame. "My lord! How
knew you----"

"Peace, lad! Fash not thyself over it. Is it not a part of my sacred
office to follow in the footsteps of my Master and to be a discerner of
the thoughts and intents of the