"You have been most kind and most generous, when indeed you had just cause to be angry." The Bishop lowered his eyes from the rafters, and bent them in questioning gaze upon Hugh d'Argent.
"Angry, my son?
And wherefore should I be angry ?" "That I should have sought, and should still be seeking, to tempt the Prioress to wrong-doing." The Bishop's questioning gaze took on a brightness which almost became the light of sublime contempt.
"_You_--tempt _her_ ?" he said.

"Tempt her to wrong-doing! The man lives not, who could succeed in that! She will not come to you unless she knows it to be right to come, and believes it to be wrong to stay.
If I thought you were tempting her, think you I would stand aside and watch the conflict?
Nay! But I stand aside and wait while she--of purer, clearer vision, and walking nearer Heaven than you or I--discerns the right, and, choosing it, rejects the wrong.

Should she be satisfied that life with you is indeed God's will for her--and I tell you honestly, it will take a miracle to bring this about--she will come to you.

But she will not come to you unless, in so doing, she is choosing what to her is the harder part." "The harder part!" exclaimed the Knight.

"You forget, my lord, she loves me." "Do I forget ?" replied the Bishop.