he other to make all possible
reparation."

"For seven holy years," said the Prioress, firmly, "I have been the
bride of Christ."

"Do you love Hugh?" asked the Bishop.

There was silence in the chamber.

The Prioress desired, most fervently, to take her stand as one dead to
all earthly loves and desires. Yet each time she opened her lips to
reply, a fresh picture appeared in the mirror of her mental vision, and
closed them.

She saw herself, with hand outstretched, clasping Hugh's as they
kneeled together before the shrine of the Madonna. She could feel the
rush of pulsing life flow from his hand to the palm of hers, and so
upward to her poor numbed heart, making it beat its wings like a caged
bird.

She felt again the strength and comfort of the strong arm on which she
leaned, as slowly through the darkness she and Hugh paced in silence,
side by side.

She remembered each time when obedience had seemed strangely sweet, and
she had loved the manly abruptness of his commands.

She saw Hugh, in the ring of yellow light cast by the lantern, kneeling
at her feet. She felt his hair, thick and soft, between her fingers.

And then--she remembered that shuddering sob, and the instant breaking
down of every barrier. He was hers, to comfort; she was his, to soothe
his pain. Then--the exquisite moment of yielding; the relief of the
clasp of his strong arms; the passing away of the suffering of long
years, as she felt his lips on hers, and surrendered to the hunger of
his kiss.

Then--one last picture--when loyal to her wish, felt rather than
expressed, he had freed her, and passed, without further word or touch,
up into that dim grey light like a pearly dawn at sea--passed, and been
lost to view; she saw herself left in utter loneliness, the heavy door
locked by her own turning of the key, he on one side, she on the other,
for ever; she saw herself lying beneath the ground, in darkness and
desolation, her face in the damp dust where his feet had stood.

"Do you love Hugh?" again demanded the Bishop.

And the Prioress lifted eyes full of suffering, reproach, and pain, but
also full of courage and truth, to his face, and answered simply:
"Alas, my lord, I do."

The silence thereafter following was tense with conflict. The Bishop
turned his eyes to the figure of the Redeemer upon the cross,
self-sacrifice personified, while the Prioress mastered her emotion.

Then: "'Love never faileth,'" said the Bishop gen