he strong clasp of his arms about
her. By his rigid adherence to his promise, she felt herself punished
for having shuddered. Why had she shuddered? . . . Would she shudder
now? This wonderful first evening had quickly passed, in going from
chamber to chamber, walking in the gardens, and supping with Hugh in
the dining-hall, waited on by Mark and Beaumont, with Zachary to
supervise, pour the wine, and stand behind her chair.

Then a final walk on the terrace; a grave good-night upon the stairs;
and, at last, this time of quiet thought, in her own chamber.

She could not realise that she was wedded to Hugh; but her heart awoke
to the fact that truly she was betrothed to him. And she was
happy--deeply happy.

Leaving the casement, she kneeled before the shrine of the
Virgin--there where she had put up so many impassioned prayers for the
safe return of her lover.

"Blessed Virgin," she said, "I thank thee for sending me home."

Years seemed to roll from her. She felt herself a child again. She
longed for her mother's understanding tenderness. Failing that, she
turned to the sweet Mother of God.

The image before which she knelt, shewed our Lady standing, tall and
fair and gracious, the Infant Saviour, seated upon her left hand, her
right hand holding Him leaning against her, His baby arms outstretched.
Neither the Babe nor His Mother smiled. Each looked grave and somewhat
sad.

"Home," whispered Mora. "Blessed Virgin I thank thee for sending me
home."

"Nay," answered a voice within her. "I sent thee not home. I gave
thee to him to whom thou didst belong. He hath brought thee home.
What said the vision? 'Take her. She is thine own. I have but kept
her for thee.'"

Yet Hugh knew naught of this gracious message--knew naught of the
vision which had given her to him. Until to-night she had felt it
impossible to tell him of it. Now she longed that he should share with
her the wonder.

She sought her couch, but sleep would not come. The moonlight was too
bright; the room too sweetly familiar. Moreover it seemed but
yesterday that she had parted from Hugh, in such an ecstasy of love and
sorrow, up on the battlements.

A great desire seized her to mount to those battlements, and to stand
again just where she had stood when she bade him farewell.

She rose.

Among the garments put ready for her use, chanced to be the robe of
sapphire velvet which she had worn on that night.

She put it on; wi