Mora, fingering the cross, looked on it with unseeing eyes.

To Hugh it seemed that this token of her high office was becoming to her a thing of first importance.
"The dress is also here," he said.
"What dress ?" she questioned, starting.
He pointed to where he had laid it: her white habit, scapulary, wimple, veil and girdle; the dress of a Prioress of the Order of the White Ladies.
She turned her startled eyes upon it.

Then quickly looked away.
"Did you yourself think a vision needed, in order that I might be justified in leaving the Convent, Hugh ?" "Nay, then," he cried, "always from the first I held thee mine in the sight of Heaven." "Are you of opinion that, the vision being proved no vision, I should go back ?" "No!" said the Knight; and the word fell like a blow from a battle-axe.
"Does the Bishop expect that I shall return ?" "Yes," replied the Knight, groaning within himself that she should have chanced to change the form of her question.
"He would so expect," mused Mora.

"He would be sure I should return.
He remembers my headstrong temper, and my imperious will.

He remembers how I tore the Pope's mandate, placing my foot upon it.