The servant lifted his cap at the sound of the bell, and dropped on to his knees, still holding the bridle; his master stood as he was, and looked at him. Mary could only see the latter’s profile, but even that was scornful and hard. Again the bell sounded; the mystery was done; and the servant stood up. As her father and Chris rose, Mary rose with them; and the three remained in complete silence, watching the little scene in the court. Ralph made a sign; and the servant attached the bridle of the horse to a ring beside the stable-door, and went past his master into the guest-house with a deferential stoop of the shoulders. Ralph stood a moment longer, and then followed him in. Then again the minutes went by. There was a sound of horse-hoofs on the road presently, and of talking that grew louder. The hoofs ceased; there was a sharp peal on the bell; and the talking began again. Chris glanced across at his father; but the old man shook his head; and the three remained as they were, watching and listening. As the bell rang out again impatiently, the door behind opened, and the portress came swiftly through, followed by the Abbess. “Come quickly,” the old lady whispered. “Sister Susan is going to let them in.” She stood aside, and made a motion to them to come through, and a moment late the four were in the convent, and the door was shut behind them. “They are Mr. Torridon’s men,” whispered the Abbess, her eyes round with excitement; “they are come to pack the things.” She led them on through the narrow passage, up a stone flight of stairs to the corridor that ran over the little cloister, and pushed open the door of a cell. “Wait here,” she said. “You can do no more. I will go down to them. You are in the enclosure, but I cannot help it.” And she had whisked out again, with an air of extraordinary composure, shutting the door behind her. The three went across to the window, still speaking no word, and looked down. The tiny court seemed half full of people now. There were three horses there, besides Ralph’s own marked by its rich saddle, and still attached to the ring by the stable door, and a couple of men were busy loading one of them with bundles. From one of these, which was badly packed, a shimmering corner of gold cloth projected. Ralph was standing by the door of the guest-house watching, and making a sign now and again with his whip. They could not see his face as he stood so directly below them, only his rich cap and feather, and his strong figure beneath. Mr. Morris was waiting now by his master’s horse; the portress was by her door. As they looked the little black and white figure of the Abbess came out beneath them, and stood by the portress.