rock of the Knight's unshakable
resolve, and left it standing.

Whereupon, in silence, the Bishop had risen, and had led the way to the
library.

Here they now faced one another in final farewell.

Each knew that his loss would be the other's gain; his gain, the
other's irreparable loss.

Yet, at that moment, each thought only of Mora's peace of soul. They
did but differ in their conception of the way in which that peace might
best be preserved and maintained.

"I must take her cross of office, my Lord Bishop," said the Knight,
with decision.

The Bishop went to a chest, standing in one corner of the room, opened
it, and bent over it, his back to Hugh d'Argent; then, slipping his
hand into his bosom drew therefrom a cross of gold gleaming with
emeralds. Shutting down the massive lid of the chest, he returned, and
placed the cross in the outstretched hand of the Knight.

"I entrust it to you, my dear Hugh, only on one condition: that it
shall without fail return to me in two weeks' time. Should you decide
to tell your wife the true history of the vision, I must see this cross
of office upon her breast when I meet her riding back to Worcester,
once more Prioress of the White Ladies. If, on the other hand, wiser
counsel prevails, and you decide not to tell her, you must, by swift
messenger, at once return it to me in a sealed packet."

"I shall tell her," said the Knight. "If she elects to leave me, you
will see the cross upon her breast, my lord. If she elects to stay,
you shall receive it by swift messenger."

"She will leave you," said the Bishop. "If you tell her, she will
leave you."

"She loves me," said the Knight; and he said it with a tender
reverence, and such a look upon his face, as a man wears when he speaks
of his faith in God.

"Hugh," said the Bishop, sadly; "Hugh, my dear lad, you have but little
experience of the heart of a nun. The more she loves, the more
determined will she be to leave you, if you yourself give her reason to
think her love unjustified. The very thing which is now a cause of
bliss will instantly become a cause for fear. She will flee from joy,
as all pure hearts flee from sin; because, owing to your folly, her joy
will seem to her to be sinful. My son!"--the Bishop stretched out his
hands; a passion of appeal was in his voice--"God and Holy Church have
given you your wife. If you tell her this thing, you will lose her."

"I must take with me the dress she le