ster,
who had stolen a march on you, by reason of the swift paces of his good
mare, Shulamite."

Mora leaned forward, and laid her hand on his.

"Mock not, my friend," she said. "There was a time when Father
Gervaise stood to me for all my heart held dearest. Yet I loved him,
not as a girl loves a man, but rather as a nun loves her Lord. He
stood to me for all that was noblest and best; and, above all, for all
that was vital and alive in life and in religion; strong to act; able
to endure. He confessed me once, and told me, when I kneeled before
the crucifix, to say of Him Who hangs thereon: 'He ever liveth to make
intercession for us.' Never have I forgotten it. And--sometimes--when
I say the sacred words, and, saying them, my mind turns to Father
Gervaise, an echo seems to whisper to my spirit: '_He, also, liveth_.'"

Symon of Worcester rose.

"My daughter," he said, "the sun is high in the heavens. We must not
linger here. Hugh will be seeking his bride, and Mistress Deborah be
waxing anxious over the escape of her charge. The morning meal will be
ready in the banqueting hall; after which we must to the chapel, for
the marriage. Then, without delay, I ride to Worcester to make all
right at the Nunnery. Let us go."

As Mora walked beside him across the sunny lawn, "Father," she said,
"think you the heart of a nun can ever become again as the heart of
other women?"

CHAPTER XXXVI

STRONG TO ACT; ABLE TO ENDURE

Back to Worcester rode the Bishop.

Gallop! Gallop! along the grassy rides, beside the hard highway.

Hasten good Shulamite, black and comely still, though flecked with foam.

Important work lies ahead. Every moment is precious.

If Mother Sub-Prioress should send to the Palace, mischief will be
done, which it will not be easy to repair.

If news of the flight of the Prioress reaches the city of Worcester, a
hundred tongues, spiteful, ignorant, curious, or merely idle, will at
once start wagging.

Gallop, gallop, Shulamite!

How impossible to overtake a rumour, if it have an hour's start of you.
As well attempt to catch up the water which first rushed through the
sluice-gates, opened an hour before you reached the dam.

How impossible to remake a reputation once broken. Before the
priceless Venetian goblet fell from the table on to the flagged floor,
one hand put forth in time might have hindered its fall. But--failing
that timely hand--when, a second later, it lies in a hundr