CHAPTER XII.
ALAS, THE PITY OF IT! At length the Prioress spoke.
"Alas," she said, "the pity of it! Ah, the cruel, _cruel_ pity of it!" Her voice, so sweet and tender, yet so hopeless in the unquestioning finality of its regret, struck cold upon the heart of the Knight.
"But, my beloved, I have found thee," he said, and dropping upon one knee at her feet, he put out his hands to cover both hers.

But the Prioress was too quick for him.

She hid her hands beneath her scapulary.

The Knight's brown fingers closed on the lions' heads.
"Touch me not," said the Prioress.
The Knight flushed, darkly.
"You are mine," he said.

"Mine to have and to keep.