That was the way that men murdered. No longer
could he claim control or mastery of his body. God had deserted him and
given him over to devils.
His son, his wife, and now God. His loneliness was terrible. And he could
not think. He must think about this letter and what he should do. He could
not think at all. He was given over to devils.
After Matins in the Cathedral next day one thought came to him. He would
go and see the Bishop. The Bishop had come in from Carpledon for the
Jubilee celebrations and was staying at the Deanery. Brandon spoke to him
for a moment after Matins and asked him whether he might see him for half
an hour in the afternoon on a matter of great urgency. The Bishop asked
him to come at three o'clock.
Seated in the Dean's library, with its old-fashioned cosiness--its book-
shelves and the familiar books, the cases, between the high windows, of
his precious butterflies--Brandon felt, for the first time for many days,
a certain calm descend upon him. The Bishop, looking very frail and small
in the big arm-chair, received him with so warm an affection that he felt,
in spite of his own age, like the old man's son.
Pages:
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548