uncertainty."

Turning back to his work, so great a load seemed lifted from his heart,
that he found himself singing as he put a keener edge on his weapons.

Presently he went over to the corner where stood the silver shield.
Hitherto he had kept his eyes turned from it. It called up thoughts
which he had striven to beat back. Now, he set to work and polished it
until its surface shone clear as a mirror.

And as he worked, he thought within himself: "What said the Bishop?
That I saw reflected in my silver shield naught save mine own proud
face? But I told my wife that I see there the face of God, or the
nearest I know to His face; and, behind Him, her face--the face of my
beloved; for, had I not put reverence and honour first, my very love
for her would have been tarnished."

Hugh stood the silver shield at such an angle as that it reflected the
sunset, yet as he kneeled upon one knee before it he could not see his
own reflection.

The sun, round and blood red, almost dipping below the horizon, shone
out in crimson glory from the deepest heart of the silver.

Hugh remembered two verses of a Hebrew poem which the Rabbi used to
recite at sunset. "The Lord God is a Sun and Shield: The Lord will
give Grace and Glory; No good thing will He withhold from them that
walk uprightly. O Lord of Hosts, blessed is the man that trusteth in
Thee."

His eyes upon the shield, his hands clasped around his knee, Hugh said,
softly: "The face of God, my beloved, or the nearest I know to His
face: and behind Him, thy face"----

And then his voice fell of a sudden silent; his heart beat in his
throat, his fingers gripped his knee; for something moved softly in the
shining surface, and there looked out at him from his own silver
shield, the face of the woman he loved.

How long he kneeled and gazed without stirring, Hugh could not tell.
At that moment life paused suspended, and he ceased to be conscious of
time. But, at length, pressing nearer, his own dark head appeared in
the shield, and above him, bending toward him, Mora, shimmering in
softest white, as on her wedding morn, her hands outstretched, her eyes
full of a tender yearning, gazing into his.

"The Vision for which I prayed!" cried the Knight. "O, my God! Is
this the sign of Thy nearness? Is this a promise that my wife will
come to me?"

He hid his face in his hands.

A gentle touch fell lightly on his hair.

"Not a promise, Hugh," came a tender whisper