He would go in
and see the place once more, and then leave it once for all. New men and
new methods might do for other people; let those who would, worship the
rising star; he, at least, would be faithful to the sun which had
set. And so he got up, and walked to the chapel door, and unlocked it,
fancying himself the only mourner in all the broad land, and feeding on
his own selfish sorrow.
He passed through the vestibule, and then paused for a moment to glance
over the empty benches. His heart was still proud and high, and he
walked up to the seat which he had last occupied as a sixth-form boy,
and sat himself down there to collect his thoughts.
And, truth to tell, they needed collecting and setting in order not a
little. The memories of eight years were all dancing through his brain,
and carrying him about whither they would; while, beneath them all, his
heart was throbbing with the dull sense of a loss that could never be
made up to him. The rays of the evening sun came solemnly through the
painted windows above his head, and fell in gorgeous colours on the
opposite wall, and the perfect stillness soothed his spirit by little
and little. And he turned to the pulpit, and looked at it, and then,
leaning forward with his head on his hands, groaned aloud. If he could
only have seen the Doctor again for one five minutes--have told him all
that was in his heart, what he owed to him, how he loved and reverenced
him, and would, by God's help, follow his steps in life and death--he
could have borne it all without a murmur.
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