anation I
should make to Mary Antony; when, to my relief, she came and confessed
that hers was the mistake, she having counted wrongly. Glad indeed was
I to let it rest at that; so neither she, nor any in the Convent, knew
aught of your entrance there or your visit to my cell. The Bishop,
you, and I, alone know of it."

"Then I mistake," said the Knight. "But I felt certain I had heard the
name, and that the owner thereof had some knowledge of my movements.
Now, I pray thee, dear Heart, tell me all."

So sitting there on the ramparts of her old home, the stillness of the
fragrant summer night all around, Mora told from the beginning the
wondrous history of the trance of Mary Antony, and the blessed vision
then vouchsafed to her.

The Knight listened with glowing eyes. Once he interrupted to exclaim:
"Oh, true! Most true! More true than thou canst know. Left alone in
thy cell, I kneeled to our Lady, saying those very words: 'Mother of
God, send her to me! Take pity on a hungry heart, a lonely home, a
desolate hearth, and send her to me.' I was alone. Only our Lady whom
I besought, heard those words pass my lips."

Again Hugh kneeled, kissed the medallion, and lifted to heaven eyes
luminous with awe and worship.

Continuing, Mora told him all, even to each detail of her long night
vigil and her prayer for a sign which should be given direct to
herself, so soon granted by the arrival and flight of the robin. But
this failed to impress Hugh, wholly absorbed in the vision, and unable
to see where any element of hesitation or of uncertainty could come in.
Hearing it from Mora, he was spared the quaint turn which was bound to
be given to any recital, however sacred, heard direct from old Mary
Antony.

The Knight was a Crusader. Many a fight he had fought for that cause
representing the highest of Christian ideals. Also, he had been a
pilgrim, and had visited innumerable holy shrines. For years, his soul
had been steeped in religion, in that Land where true religion had its
birth, and all within him, which was strongest and most manly, had
responded with a simplicity of faith, yet with a depth of ardent
devotion, which made his religion the most vital part of himself. This
it was which had given him a noble fortitude in bearing his sorrow.
This it was which now gave him a noble exultation in accepting his
great happiness. It filled him with rapture, that his wife should have
been given to him in direct r