At
last there was neither sound nor gleam, but the utmost solitude, and a
darkness and silence and the uttermost profundity of sorrow....
It was bright day. Dunk had just come into the room with his tea, and
the tumbler of Dr. Dale's tonic stood untouched upon the night-table.
The bishop sat up in bed. He had missed his opportunity. To-day was a
busy day, he knew.
"No," he said, as Dunk hesitated whether to remove or leave the tumbler.
"Leave that."
Dunk found room for it upon the tea-tray, and vanished softly with the
bishop's evening clothes.
The bishop remained motionless facing the day. There stood the draught
of decision that he had lacked the decision even to touch.
From his bed he could just read the larger items that figured upon the
engagement tablet which it was Whippham's business to fill over-night
and place upon his table. He had two confirmation services, first
the big one in the cathedral and then a second one in the evening at
Pringle, various committees and an interview with Chasters. He had not
yet finished his addresses for these confirmation services....
The task seemed mountainous--overwhelming.
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