iently
rested and refreshed. I have much to say to you."

In the reaction of a great relief, Hugh d'Argent seized the extended
hand and fervently kissed the Bishop's ring.

It was the reverent homage of a loyal heart. Symon of Worcester, as
with a _Benedicite_ he graciously acknowledged it, suffered a slight
twinge of conscience; almost as unusual an experience as the ebullition
of temper. He took up the conversation exactly at that point to which
it best suited him to return, namely, there where he had made the first
false step.

"Therefore, my dear Hugh, I have now given you in detail the true
history of the vision, making it clear that we owe it, alas! to earthly
devotion, rather than to Divine interposition--though indeed the one
may well be the means used by the other. It remains for us to
consider, and to decide upon, the best line to take with Mora in order
to safeguard most surely her peace of mind, and permanently to secure
her happiness."

"I have considered, Reverend Father," said the Knight, simply; "and I
have decided."

"What have you decided to do, my son?" questioned Symon of Worcester,
in his smoothest tones.

"To make known to Mora, so soon as I return, the entire truth."

The Bishop cast his eyes upward, to see whether the banner still waved.

It did.

Undoubtedly there must be a current of air among the rafters.

"And what effect do you suppose such a communication will have, my son,
upon the mind of your wife?"

"I am not called to face suppositions, Reverend Father; I am simply
confronted by facts."

"Precisely, my son, precisely," replied the Bishop, pressing his
finger-tips together, and raising them to his lips. "Yet even while
dealing with causes, it is well sometimes to consider effects, lest
they take us wholly unawares. Do you realise that, as your wife felt
justified in leaving the Nunnery and wedding you, solely by reason of
our Lady's miraculously accorded permission, when she learns that that
permission was not miraculous, she will cease to feel justified?"

"I greatly fear it," said the Knight.

"Do you yourself now consider that she was not justified?"

"Nay!" answered the Knight, with sudden vehemence. "Always, since I
learned how we had been tricked by her sister, I have held her to be
rightfully mine. Heaven knew, when she made her vows, that I was
faithful, and she therefore still my betrothed. Heaven allowed me to
discover the truth, and to find her--a