"Our Lady comfort thee; and may Heaven forgive me, for that I have disturbed thy peace." With which he lifted the hem of her robe, and pressed his lips upon it.
Thus he knelt, for a space, his dark head bent.
Slowly, slowly, the Prioress let drop her hands until, lightly as the fall of autumn leaves,--sad autumn leaves--they rested upon his head, in blessing and farewell.
But feeling his hair beneath her hands, she could not keep from softly smoothing it, nor from passing her fingers gently in and out of its crisp thickness.
Then her heart stood still, for of a sudden, in the silence, she heard a shuddering sob.
With a cry, she bent and gathered him to her, holding his head first against her knees, then stooping lower to clasp it to her breast; then as his strong arms were flung around her, she loosed his head, and, as he rose to his feet, slipped her arms about his neck, and surrendered to his embrace.
His lips sought hers, and at once she yielded them.

His strong hands held her, and she, feeling the force of their constraint, did but clasp him closer.
Long they stood thus.

In that embrace a life-time of pain passed from them, a life-time of bliss was born, and came with a rush to maturity, bringing with it a sense of utter completeness.

A world of sweetest trust and certainty filled them; a joy so perfect, that the lonely vista of future years seemed, in that moment, to matter not at all.
All about them was darkness, silence as of the tomb; the heavy smell of earth; the dank chill of the grave.
Yet theirs was life more abundant; theirs, joy undreamed of; theirs, love beyond all imagining, while those moments lasted.
Then---- The hands about his neck loosened, unclasped, fell gently away.
He set free her lips, and they took their liberty.
He unlocked his arms, and stepping back she stood erect, like a fair white lily, needing no prop nor stay.
So they stood for a space, looking upon one another in silence.

This thing which had happened, was too wonderful for speech.
Then the Prioress turned the key in the lock.
The heavy door swung open.
A dim, grey light, like a pearly dawn at sea, came downwards from the crypt.
Without a word the Knight, bending his head, passed under the archway, mounted the steps, and was lost to view among the many pillars.
She closed the door, locked it, and withdrawing the key, stood alone where they had stood together.
Then, sinking to the ground, she laid her face in the dust, there where his feet had been.
It was farewell, here and now; farewell forever.
* * * * * * After a while the Prioress rose, took up the lantern, and started upon her lonely journey, back to the cloister door..