Miriam's plume of grey hair was no longer visible,
for all her hair was grey nowadays; but her face had scarcely altered,
and she sat there at this moment with that same expression of austere
sweetness which had been shed like a benison upon Mark's dreary boyhood.
How dear of Miriam to grace his Ordination, and if only Esther too could
have been with him! He knelt down to thank God humbly for His mercies,
and of those mercies not least for the Ogilvies' influence upon his
life.
Mark could not find Miriam when they came out from the chapel. She must
have hurried away to catch some slow Sunday train that would get her
back to Wych-on-the-Wold to-night. She could not have known that he had
seen her, and when he arrived at the Rectory to-morrow as glossy as a
beetle in his new clerical attire, Miriam would listen to his account of
the Ordination, and only when he had finished would she murmur how she
had been present all the time.
And now there was still the oath of canonical obedience to take before
lunch; but luckily that was short. Mark was hungry, since unlike most of
the candidates he had not eaten an enormous breakfast that morning.
Snow was falling outside when the young priests and deacons in their new
frock coats sat down to lunch; and when they put on their sleek silk
hats and hurried away to catch the afternoon train back to Silchester,
it was still falling.
Pages:
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556