"I still owe L3,000."
"A mere trifle," said the Bishop, dismissing the sum with the airy
gesture of a conjurer who palms a coin. "A mere trifle compared with
what you have already raised. I know that at the moment there is no
question of constituting as a parish what is at present merely a
district; but such a contingency must be borne in mind by both of us,
and inasmuch as that would imply consecration by myself I am unwilling
to prejudice any decision I might have to take later, should the
necessity for consecration arise, by allowing you at the moment a wider
latitude than I might be prepared to allow you in the future. Yes, Canon
Whymper writes most enthusiastically of the noble fabric." The Bishop
paused, drummed with his fingers on the arm of his chair as if he were
testing the pitch of his instrument, and then taking a deep breath
boomed forth: "But Mr. Rowley, in his report he informs me that in the
middle of the south aisle exists an altar or Holy Table expressly and
exclusively designed for what he was told are known as masses for the
dead."
"That is perfectly true," said Father Rowley.
"Ah," said the Bishop, shaking his head gravely. "I did not indeed
imagine that Canon Whymper would be misinformed about such an important
feature; but I did not think it right to act without ascertaining first
from you that such is indeed the case.
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