CHAPTER XI.
THE YEARS ROLL BACK "Hugh!" exclaimed the Prioress.
And again, in utter bewilderment: "Hugh ?" And yet a third time, in a low whisper of horror, passing her left hand across her eyes, as if to clear from her outer vision some nightmare of the inner mind: "Hugh!" The silent Knight still made no answer; but he flung aside the clinging robes, stepped from out them, and strode forward, both arms outstretched.
"Back!" cried the Prioress.

But her hand had left the hilt of the dagger.

"Come no nearer," she commanded.
Then she sank into her chair, spreading her trembling hands upon the carven manes of the lions.
The Knight, still silent, folded his arms across his breast.
Thus for a space they gazed on one another--these two, who had parted, eight years before, with clinging lips and straining arms, a deep, pure passion of love surging within them; a union of heart, made closer by the wrench of outward separation.
The Knight looked at the lips of the noble woman before him; and as he looked those firm lips quivered, trembled, parted---- Then--the years rolled back---- * * * * * * It was moonlight on the battlements.

The horses champed in the courtyard below.

They two had climbed to the topmost turret, that they might part as near the stars as possible, and that, unseen by others, she might watch him ride away.
How radiant she looked, in her robe of sapphire velvet, jewels at her breast and girdle, a mantle of ermine hanging from her shoulders.