All was black as the night about them.
The door opened, and was shut and locked again.

Then, from behind the curtain, appeared the tall figure of the Prioress, carrying a candle that made a star of light upon the shadows.

As she stood there holding it up and looking about her, something came into Emlyn's mind.

Perhaps she would help, she who loved Cicely.

Did she not look like a figure of hope, with her sweet face and her taper in the gloom?
Emlyn advanced to meet her, her finger on her lips.
"She sleeps; wake her not," she said.