And before that two-edged blade could sheathe itself again, swiftly the Bishop spoke.
"Therefore, my dear Hugh, when you arrived with your tale of wrong and treachery, all unconsciously to yourself, every word you spoke of your betrothed revealed her to the man who had loved her while you were yet a youth, with your spurs to win, and all life before you.
"I saw in your arrival, and in the strange tale you told, a wondrous chance for her of that fuller development of life for which I knew her to be so perfectly fitted.
"It had seemed indeed the irony of fate that, while I had fled and dwelt in exile lest my presence should hold her back from marriage, the treachery of others should have driven her into a life of celibacy.
"Therefore while, with my tacit consent, you went to work in your own way, I sent my messenger to Rome bearing to the Holy Father a full account of all, petitioning a dispensation from vows taken owing to deception, and asking leave to unite in the holy sacrament of marriage these long-sundered lovers, undertaking that no scandal should arise therefrom, either in the Nunnery or in the City of Worcester.
"As you have seen, my messenger this night returned; and we now find ourselves armed with the full sanction of His Holiness, providing the Prioress, of her own free will, desires to renounce the high position she has won in her holy calling, and to come to you." The quiet voice ceased speaking.
The Knight rose slowly to his feet.

At first he stood silent.

Then he spoke with a calm dignity which proved him worthy of the Bishop's trust.
"I greatly honour you, my lord," he said; "and were our ages and conditions other than they are, so that we might fight for the woman we love, I should be proud to cross swords with you." The Bishop sat looking into the fire.

A faint smile flickered at the corners of the sensitive mouth.

The fights he had fought for the woman he loved had been of sterner quality than the mere crossing of knightly swords.
Hugh d'Argent spoke again.
"Profoundly do I thank you, Reverend Father, for all that you have done; and even more, for that which you did not do.