..."
The Bishop came over to Brandon and put his hand on his head. Strange
peace come into Brandon's heart, not from the old man's words, but from
the contact with him, the touch of his thin trembling hand. The room was
filled with peace. Ronder was suddenly of little importance. The Cathedral
faded. For a time he rested.
For the rest of that day, until evening, that peace stayed with him. With
it still in his heart he came, late that night, into their bedroom. Mrs.
Brandon was in bed, awake, staring in front of her, not moving. He sat
down in the chair beside the bed, stretched out his hand, and took hers.
"Amy, dear," he said, "I want us to have a little talk."
Her little hand lay still and hot in his large cool one.
"I've been very unhappy," he went on with difficulty, "lately about you--I
have seen that you yourself are not happy. I want you to be. I will do
anything that is in my power to make you so!"
"You would not," she said, without looking at him, "have troubled to think
of me had not your own private affairs gone wrong and--had not Falk left
us!"
The sound of her hostility irritated him against his will; he beat the
irritation down.
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