Everything about those few minutes of suspense remains
fresh in my recollection. I remember how they loitered and came to a halt
at the corner of the oak passage leading to the study, and how the Rector
patted the marble head and smoothed the inflexible tresses of William Pitt,
as he listened to Mr. Danvers' details about the presentment; and then,
as they went on, I recollect the boisterous nose-blowing that suddenly
resounded from the passage, and which I then referred, and still refer,
intuitively to the Rector.
We had not been five minutes in the drawing-room when Branston entered, to
say that the gentlemen I had mentioned were all assembled in the study.
'Come, dear,' said Cousin Monica; and leaning on her arm I reached the
study door. I entered, followed by her. The gentlemen arrested their talk
and stood up, those who were sitting, and the Rector came forward very
gravely, and in low tones, and very kindly, greeted me. There was nothing
emotional in this salutation, for though my father never quarrelled, yet an
immense distance separated him from all his neighbours, and I do not think
there lived a human being who knew him at more than perhaps a point or two
of his character.
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