tain of her veil, Mother Sub-Prioress
moved forward at the head of the nuns.

The Bishop's procession, which had wavered, continued to lead the way;
solemn chanting began; and, as the Bishop turned into the Cypress Walk
he saw the flying figure of Mary Seraphine running among the trees in
the orchard, trying to catch up, and to take her place again,
unnoticed, among the rest.

The Bishop smiled, remembering his many talks with the Prioress
concerning Seraphine, and the Knight's dismay when he feared they were
foisting the wayward nun upon him.

Then he sighed as he realised that the control of the Convent had now
passed into the able hands of Mother Sub-Prioress; and that, in these
unusual circumstances, the task of selecting and appointing a new
Prioress, fell to him.

Perhaps his conversations on this subject, first with the Prior, and
later on with Mother Sub-Prioress, partly accounted for his extreme
fatigue, now that he found himself at last alone in his library.

But the reward of those "whose strength is to sit still," had come to
the Bishop.

Soon after he fixed his eyes upon the Gregorian and Gelasian
Sacramentaries, his eyelids gently began to droop. Sleep was already
upon him when he decided to let the Palace, the City, yea, even the
Cathedral go, if he might but keep the Prioress. And as he walked with
Mora up the golden stair, his mind was at rest; his weary body slept.

A very few minutes of sleep sufficed the Bishop.

He awoke as suddenly as he had fallen asleep; and, as he awoke, he
seemed to hear himself say: "Nay, Hugh. None save the old lay-sister,
Mary Antony."

He sat up, wondering what this sentence could mean; also when and where
it had been spoken.

As he wondered, his eye fell upon the white stone which he had flung
into the Severn, and which the Knight, diving from the parapet, had
retrieved from the river bed. The stone seemed in some way connected
with this chance sentence which had repeated itself in his brain.

The Bishop rose, walked over to his deed chest, took the white stone in
his hand and stood motionless, his eyes fixed upon it, wrapped in
thought. Then he passed out on to the lawn, and paced slowly to and
fro between the archway leading from the courtyard, to the parapet
overlooking the river.

Yes; it was here.

He had ridden in on Shulamite, from the heights above the town, whence
he had watched the Prioress ride in the river meadow.

He had found Hugh d'