"Wherefore doth it waft?" murmured the Bishop, thereby adding greatly
to the Knight's alarm. "Wherefore?--Wherefore?--Wherefore doth it
waft?"
"Drink this, Reverend Father," urged the Knight. "I implore you, my
dear lord, raise yourself and drink."
"Methinks there must be a draught," mused the Bishop.
"Yea, truly," said the Knight, "of your famous Italian wine. Father, I
pray you drink."
"Among the rafters," said the Bishop. But he sat up, took the goblet
from the Knight's hand, and slowly sipped its contents.
Almost at once, a faint tinge of colour shewed in his cheeks and on his
lips; his eyes grew bright. He smiled at the Knight, as he placed the
empty goblet on the table beside him.
"Ah, my dear Hugh," he said, extending his hand; "it is good to find
you here. Let us continue our conversation, if you are sufficiently
rested and refreshed. I have much to say to you."
In the reaction of a great relief, Hugh d'Argent seized the extended
hand and fervently kissed the Bishop's ring.
It was the reverent homage of a loyal heart. Symon of Worcester, as
with a _Benedicite_ he graciously acknowledged it, suffered a slight
twinge of conscience; almost as unusual an experience as the ebullition
of temper. He took up the conversation exactly at that point to which
it best suited him to return, namely, there where he had made the first
false step.
"Therefore, my dear Hugh, I have now given you in detail the true
history of the vision, making it clear that we owe it, alas! to earthly
devotion, rather than to Divine interposition--though indeed the one
may well be the means used by the other.
Pages:
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394