He had
moved but little, he had not raised his voice, but, watching his face, she
had seen the agony pass, like an entering guest, behind his eyes. That
guest would remain. She was satisfied.
"I have done my duty, Archdeacon, and now I will wish you good-evening."
She gave a little bow and retired from the room, softly closing the door
behind her.
He sat there, looking at the letter....
* * * * *
The Assembly Rooms seemed to move like a ship on a sunset sea. Hanging
from the ceiling were the two great silver candelabra, in some ways the
most famous treasure that the town possessed. Fitted now with gas, they
were nevertheless so shaded that the light was soft and mellow. Round the
room, beneath the portraits of the town's celebrities in their heavy gold
frames, the lights were hidden with shields of gold. The walls were ivory
white. From the Minstrels' Gallery flags with the arms of the Town, of the
Cathedral, of the St. Leath family fluttered once and again faintly. In
the Minstrels' Gallery the band was playing just as it had played a
hundred years ago.
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