CHAPTER LII.
THE ANGEL-CHILD Symon of Worcester turned, walked slowly across the courtyard, made his way to the parapet above the river, and stood long, with bent head, watching the rapid flow of the Severn.
His eyes rested upon the very place where the Knight had cleft the water in his impulsive dive after the white stone, made, by the Bishop's own words, to stand to him for his chances of winning the Prioress.
Yet should that sudden leap be described as "impulsive"?
The Bishop, ever a stickler for accuracy in descriptive words, considered this.
Nay, not so much "impulsive" as "prompt." Even as the warrior who, having tested his trusty sword, knowing its readiness in the scabbard and the strength of his own right arm, draws, on the instant, when surprised by the enemy.

Prompt, not impulsive.

A swift action, based upon an assured certainty of power, and a steadfast determination, of long standing, to win at all costs.
The Bishop's hand rested upon the parapet.

The stone in his ring held neither blue nor purple lights.

Its colour had paled and faded.