s passing the
night in prayer and vigil, will not come to the evening meal, and
desires Mother Sub-Prioress to take her place. Also that for no cause
whatever is the Reverend Mother to be disturbed."

Sister Mary Mark, being thus given a legitimate reason for leaving her
post and gaining the Bishop's favour without giving cause for
displeasure to the Prioress, departed, by way of the kitchens, to carry
Mary Antony's message.

No sooner was she out of sight, than Mary Antony seized the key,
unlocked the great doors, pulled them apart, and left them standing
ajar, the key in the lock; then hastened back across the courtyard,
passed under the rose-arch, and creeping beneath the shelter of the yew
hedge, reached the steps up to the cloisters; slipped unobserved
through the cloister door, and up the empty passage; unlocked the
Reverend Mother's cell, entered it, and softly closed and locked the
door behind her.

Then--in order to make it impossible to yield to any temptation to open
the door--she withdrew the key, and flung it through the open window,
far out into the shrubbery.

Thus did Mary Antony prepare to hold the fort, until the coming of the
Bishop.

CHAPTER XXXIV

MORA DE NORELLE

Symon, Bishop of Worcester, chid himself for restlessness. Surely for
once his mind had lost control of his limbs.

No sooner did he decide to walk the smooth lawns around the Castle,
than he found himself mounting to the battlements; and now, though he
had installed himself for greatly needed repose in a deep seat in the
hall chamber, yet here he was, pacing the floor, or moving from one
window to another.

By dint of hard riding he had reached Warwick while the sun, though
already dipped beneath the horizon, still flecked the sky with rosy
clouds, and spread a golden mantle over the west.

The lord of the Castle was away, in attendance on the King; but all was
in readiness for the arrival of the Bishop, and great preparations had
been made for the reception of Sir Hugh d'Argent. His people, having
left Worcester early that morning, were about in the courtyard, as the
Bishop rode in.

As he passed through the doorway, an elderly woman, buxom, comely, and
of motherly aspect, whom he easily divined to be the tire-woman of whom
the Knight had spoken, came forward to meet him.

"Good my lord," she said, her eagerness allowing of scant ceremony,
"comes Sir Hugh d'Argent hither this night?"

"Aye," replied the Bi