That you sat here just now, thinking me witless beyond belief, just when I most desired not to appear to know too much, I owe to the swollen countenance of Seraphine." "My lord," exclaimed the Knight, overcome with shame.

"My lord! How knew you----" "Peace, lad! Fash not thyself over it.

Is it not a part of my sacred office to follow in the footsteps of my Master and to be a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart?
Also, respecting, yea, approving your reasons for reticence, I would have let you depart not suspecting my knowledge of that which you wished to conceal, were it not that we must now face this fact together:--Since penning that message of apparent finality, the Prioress has tried her wings." A rush of bewildered joy flooded the face of the Knight.
"Reverend Father!" he said, "think you that means hope for me ?" Symon of Worcester considered this question carefully, sitting in his favourite attitude, his lips compressed against his finger-tips.
At length; "I think it means just this," he said.

"A conflict, in her, between the mental and the physical; between reason and instinct; thought and feeling.

The calm, collected mind sent you that reasoned message of final refusal.