The Knight laughed, joyously.  The relief at his heart demanded that much vent.  “Then, if I failed thee, Mora, there would be but the Bishop?”

“There would be but the Bishop.”

“I will not fail thee, my beloved.  And I fear I must have put the matter clumsily, concerning Father Gervaise.  As the Bishop told it to me, there was naught that was not noble.  It seemed to me it should be sweet to the heart of a woman to be so loved.”

“Hush,” she said, sternly.  “You know not the heart of a nun.”

He did not reason further.  It was enough for him to know that the shattered image she had buried was not the ideal of his love and hers, or the hope of future happiness together.

“Time flies, dear Heart,” he said.  “May I speak to thee of immediate plans?”

“I listen,” she answered.

Hugh stood in the entrance, among the yellow roses, leaning against the doorpost, his arms folded on his breast, his feet crossed.

At once she was reminded of the scene in her cell, when he had taken up that attitude while still garbed as a nun, and she had said:  “I know you for a man,” and, in her heart had added:  “And a stronger man, surely, than Mary Seraphine’s Cousin Wilfred!”

“We ride on to-day,” said the Knight, “if you feel able for a few hours in the saddle, to the next stage in our journey.  It is a hostel in the forest; a poor kind of place, I fear; but there is one good room where you can be made comfortable, with Mistress Deborah.  I shall sleep on the hay, without, amongst my men.  Some must keep guard all night.  We ride through wild parts to reach our destination.”

He paused.  He could not hold on to the matter of fact tones in which he had started.  When he spoke again, his voice was low and very tender.

“Mora, I am taking thee first to thine own home; to the place where, long years ago, we loved and parted.  There, all is as it was.  Thy people who loved thee and had fled, have been found and brought back.  Seven days of journeying should bring us there.  I have sent men on before, to arrange for each night’s lodging, and make sure that all is right.  Arrived at thine own castle, Mora, we shall be within three hours’ ride of mine—­that home to which I hope to bring thee.  Until we enter there, my wife, although this morning most truly wed, we will count ourselves but betrothed.  Once in thy home, it shall be left to thine own choice to come to mine when and how thou wilt.  The step now taken—­that of leaving the Cloister and coming to me—­had perforce to be done quickly, if done at all.  But, now it is safely accomplished, there is no further need for haste.  The wings of my swift desire shall be dipt to suit thine inclination.”

Hugh paused, looking upon her with a half-wistful smile.  She made no answer; so presently he continued.