"My lord," he began with difficulty, moving his big limbs in his chair
like a restless schoolboy, "it isn't easy for me to come to-day. There's
no one in the world I could speak to except yourself. I find it difficult
even to do that."
"My son," said the Bishop gently, "I am a very, very old man. I cannot
have many more months to live. When one is as near to death as I am, one
loves everything and everybody, because one is going so soon. You needn't
be afraid."
And in his heart he must have wondered at the change in this man who,
through so many years now, had come to him with so much self-confidence
and assurance.
"I have had much trouble lately," Brandon went on. "But I would not have
bothered you with that, knowing as I do all that you have to consider just
now, were it not that for the first time in my life I seem to have lost
control and to be heading toward some great disaster that may bring
scandal not only on myself but on the Church as well."
"Tell me your trouble," said the Bishop.
"Nine months ago I seemed to be at the very height of my powers, my
happiness, my usefulness.
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