The clear eyes of the Prioress were upon him.
"Whereupon, my lord ?" "Whereupon I realised--an early dream of mine seemed promised a possible fulfilment.

I knew Hugh as a lad-- It is a veritable passion with me that all things should attain unto their full perfection-- In short, I sent a messenger to Rome, bearing a careful account of the whole matter, in a private letter from myself to His Holiness the Pope.
Last evening, my messenger returned, bringing a letter from the Holy Father, with this enclosed." The Bishop held out the folded document.
The Prioress rose, took it from him, and unfolded it.
As she read the opening lines, the amazement on her face quickly gathered into a frown.
"What!" she said.

"The name and rank I resigned on entering this Order! Who dares to write or speak of me as 'Mora, Countess of Norelle' ?" "Merely His Holiness the Pope, and the Bishop of Worcester," said the Bishop meekly, in an undertone, not meaning the Prioress to hear; and, indeed, she ignored this answer, her words having been an angry ejaculation, rather than a question.
But there was worse to come.
"Dispensation!" exclaimed the Prioress.
"Absolution!" she cried, a little further on.
And at last, reading rapidly, in tones of uncontrollable anger and indignation: "'Empowers Symon, Lord Bishop of Worcester, or any priest he may appoint, to unite in the holy sacrament of marriage the Knight-Crusader, Hugh d'Argent, and Mora de Norelle, sometime Prioress of the White Ladies of Worcester.' _Sometime_ Prioress?
In very truth, they have dared so to write it! SOMETIME Prioress! It will be well they should understand she is Prioress NOW--not some time or any time, but NOW and HERE!" She turned upon the Bishop.
"My lord, the Church seems to be bringing its powers to bear on the side of the World, the Flesh, and the Devil, leaving a woman and her conscience to stand alone and battle unaided with the grim forces arrayed against her.

But you shall see that she knows how to deal with any weapon of the adversary which happens to fall into her hands." Upon which the Prioress rent the mandate from top to bottom, then across and again across; flung the pieces upon the floor, and set her foot upon them.
"Thus I answer," she cried, "your attempt, my lord, to induce the Pope to release me from vows which I hold to be eternally sacred and binding.

And if you are bent upon divorcing a nun from her Heavenly Union, and making her to become the chattel of a man, you must seek her elsewhere than in the Convent of the White Ladies of Worcester, my Lord Bishop!" So spoke the angry Prioress, making the quiet chamber to ring with her scorn and indignation.
The Bishop had made no attempt to prevent the tearing of the document.
When she flung it upon the floor, placing her foot upon the fragments, he merely looked at them regretfully, and then back upon her face, back into those eyes which flamed on him in furious indignation.