dden meaning, which filled her with impotent anger,
shewing as it did the completeness of the Bishop's connivance at Hugh's
conspiracy. Then Hugh's request, and the Bishop's hand laid upon her,
the Bishop's voice uplifted in blessing. Then once again the measured
tramp, tramp, and the steady swing of the stretcher; but now the men's
heels rang on cobbles, and voices seemed everywhere; cheery greetings,
snatches of song, chance words concerning a bargain or a meeting, a
light jest, a coarse oath; and, all the while, the steady, tramp,
tramp, and the ring of Hugh's spurs.

She grew faint and it seemed to her she was about to die beneath the
cloak, and that when at length Hugh removed it, it would prove a pall
beneath which he would find a dead bride.

"Dead bride! Dead bride!" sounded the tramping footsteps. And all the
way she was haunted by the belief, assailing her confused senses in the
darkness, that the spirit of Father Gervaise had met the stretcher;
that his was the voice which murmured low and tenderly; "Be not afraid,
neither be thou dismayed. Go in peace."

With this had come a horror of the outer world, a wild desire for the
safety and shelter of the Cloister, and an absolute physical dread of
the moment when the covering cloak should be removed, and she would
find herself alone with her lover; and, on rising from the stretcher,
be seized by his arms.

Yet when, having been tilted up steps, she was conscious of the silence
of passages and soon the even more complete quiet of a room; when the
stretcher was set down, and the bearers' feet died away, Hugh's deep
voice said gently: "Change thy garments quickly, my beloved. There is
no time to lose." But he laid no hand upon the cloak, and his
footsteps, also, died away.

Then pushing back the heavy folds and sitting up, she had found herself
alone in a bedchamber, everything she could need laid ready to her
hand; while, upon the bed, lay her green riding-dress, discarded
forever, eight years before!

Her mind refused to look back upon the half-hour that followed.

She saw herself next appearing in the doorway at the top of a flight of
eight steps, leading down into the yard of the hostelry, where a
cavalcade of men and horses waited; while Icon, the Bishop's beautiful
white palfrey, was being led to and fro, and Hugh stood with an open
letter in his hand.

As she hesitated in the doorway, gazing down upon the waiting, restive
crowd, Hugh looked up