"I seem to hear the Convent bell." His arms tightened their hold of her.
"Nay, my beloved," he said.

"There is no place for echoes of the Cloister, in the harmony of home." She turned and looked at him.
Her eyes were soft with love, yet luminous with an inward light, that moment kindled.
"Dear Heart," she said--hastening to reassure him, for an anxious question was in his look--"I have come home to thee with a completeness of glad giving and surrender, such as I did not dream could be, and scarce yet understand.

But Hugh, my husband, to one who has known the calm and peace of the Cloister there will always be an inner sanctuary in which will sound the call to prayer and vigil.

I am not less thine own--nay, rather I shall ever be free to be more wholly thine because, as we first stood together in our chamber, I heard the Convent bell." One look she gave, to make sure he understood; then swiftly hid her face against his breast.
Hugh spoke his answer very low, his lips close to her ear.
But his eyes--with that light in them, which her happy heart scarce yet dared see again--were lifted to the evening star..