The Bishop counselled me to give up hope.
But I had besought our Lady to send thee to me, and I could not lose my trust in prayer." "It was indeed our blessed Lady who sent me," said Mora, very softly.
"Hugh, dare I stay and tell you the whole story, here and now?
What if we are discovered, alone upon the ramparts, at this hour of the night ?" Hugh could not forbear a smile.
"Dear Heart," he said, "we shall not be discovered.

And, if we were, methinks we have the right to be together, on the ramparts, or off them, at any hour of the day or night." A low wooden seat ran along beneath the parapet.
Mora sat down and motioned the Knight to a place beside her.
"Sit here, Hugh.

Then we can talk low." "I listen better standing," said the Knight; but he came near, put one foot on the seat, leaned his elbow on his knee, his chin in his hand, and stood looking down upon her.
"Hugh," she said, "I withstood your pleadings; I withstood the Bishop's arguments; I withstood the yearnings of my own poor heart.

I tore up the Pope's mandate, and set my foot upon it.

I said that nothing could induce me to break my vows, unless our Lady herself gave me a clear sign that my highest duty was to you, thus absolving me from my vows, and making it evident that God's will for me was that I should leave the Cloister, and keep my early troth to you." "And gave our Lady such a sign ?" asked the Knight, his dark eyes fixed on Mora's face.
She lifted it, white and lovely; radiant in the moonlight.
"Better than a sign," she said.