gate, enter the Kingdom of
Heaven as little children."

The Bishop rose, and giving his hand to the Prioress raised her to her
feet.

"My lord," she said, "as ever you are most kind to me. Yet I fear you
have been too lenient for my own peace of mind. To have destroyed in
anger the mandate of His Holiness----"

"Nay, my daughter," said the Bishop. "The mandate of His Holiness,
inscribed upon parchment, from which hangs the great seal of the
Vatican, is safely placed among my most precious documents. You have
but destroyed the result of an hour's careful work. I rose betimes
this morning to make this copy. I should not have allowed you to tear
it, had not the writing been my own. But I took pains to reproduce
exactly the peculiar style of lettering they use in Rome, and you will
do the same in your copy."

Turning, the Bishop knelt for a few moments in prayer before the
Madonna. He could not have explained why, but somehow the only hope
for Hugh seemed to be connected with this spot.

Yet it was hardly reassuring that, when he lifted grave and anxious
eyes, our Lady gently smiled, and the sweet Babe looked merry.

Rising, the Bishop turned, with unwonted sternness, to the Prioress.

"Remember," he said, "Hugh rides away to-morrow night; rides away,
never to return."

Her steadfast eyes did not falter.

"He had better have ridden away five days ago, my lord. He had my
answer, and I bade him go. By staying he has but prolonged his
suspense and my pain."

"Yes," said the Bishop slowly, "he had better have ridden away; or,
better still, have never come upon this fruitless quest."

He moved toward the door.

The Prioress reached it before him.

With her hand upon the latch: "Your blessing, Reverend Father,"
entreated the Prioress, rather breathlessly.

"_Benedicite_," said the Bishop, with uplifted fingers, but with eyes
averted; and passed out.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE WHITE STONE

Old Mary Antony was at the gate, when the Bishop rode out from the
courtyard.

Thrusting the porteress aside, she pressed forward, standing with
anxious face uplifted, as the Bishop approached.

He reined in Icon, and, bending from the saddle, murmured: "Take care
of her, Sister Antony. I have left her in some distress."

"Hath she decided aright?" whispered the old lay-sister.

"She always decides aright," said the Bishop. "But she is so made that
she will thrust happiness from her with both hands unless