For this he had waited. And the reward of
his chivalrous patience was to be, that to-day, of her own free will
she would say; "Hugh, my husband, take me home."

She smiled to remember how, riding forth from the city gates of
Warwick, she had planned within herself that, once safely established
in her own castle, she would abide there days, weeks, perhaps even,
months!

She stretched her arms wide, then flung them above her head.

"Take me home," she whispered. "Hugh, my husband, take me home."

A thrush in the coppice below, whistled in liquid notes: "_Do it now!
Do it now! Do it now!_"

Laughing joyously, Mora leapt from her bed and looked out upon a sunny
summer's day, humming with busy life, fragrant with scent of flowers,
thrilling with songs of birds.

"What a bridal morn!" she cried. "All nature says 'Awake! Arise!' Yet
I have slept so late. I must quickly prepare myself to find and to
greet my lover."

"_Do it now!_" sang the thrush.

Half an hour later, fresh and fragrant as the morn, Mora left her
chamber and made her way to the great staircase.

Hearing shouting in the courtyard, and the trampling of horses' feet,
she paused at a casement, and looked down.

To her surprise she saw the well-remembered figure of Brother Philip,
mounted; with him three other horsemen wearing the Bishop's livery, and
Martin Goodfellow leading Hugh's favourite steed, ready saddled.

Much perplexed, she passed down the staircase, and out on to the
terrace where she had bidden them to prepare the morning meal.

From the terrace she looked into the banqueting hall, and her
perplexity grew; for there Hugh d'Argent, booted and spurred, ready for
a journey, strode up and down.

For two turns she watched him, noting his knitted brows, and the heavy
forward thrust of his chin.

Then, lifting his eyes as he swung round for the third time, he saw
her, outside in the sunlight; such a vision of loveliness as might well
make a man's heart leap.

He paused in his rapid walk, and stood as if rooted to the spot, making
no move toward her.

For a moment, Mora hesitated.

"_Do it now!_" sang the thrush.

CHAPTER XLVI

"HOW SHALL I LET THEE GO?"

Mora passed swiftly into the banqueting hall.

"Hugh," she said, and came to him. "Hugh, my husband, this is our
bridal day. Will you take me to our home?"

His eyes, as they met hers, were full of a dumb misery.

Then a fierce light of passion, a look of wild r