第65章 (第2/3页)
I'll never enjoy one more than I've enjoyed this,' Grant said, with truth. He glanced sideways at the portrait which was still propped against the books. 'I was more dashed than you would believe when you came in all despondent, and I thought it had come to pieces.' He looked back at the portrait and said: 'Marta thinks he is a little like Lorenzo the Magnificent. Her friend James thinks it is the face of a saint. My surgeon thinks it is the face of a cripple. Sergeant Williams thinks he looks like a great judge. But I think, perhaps, Matron comes nearest the heart of the matter.'
'What does she say?'
'She says it is a face full of the most dreadful suffering.'
'Yes. Yes, I suppose it is. And would you wonder, after all.'
'No. No, there was little he was spared. Those last two years of his life must have happened with the suddenness and weight of an avalanche. Everything had been going along so nicely. England on an even keel at last. The civil war fading out of mind, a good firm government to keep things peaceful and a good brisk trade to keep things prosperous. It must have seemed a good outlook, looking out from Middleham across Wensleydale. And in two short years-his wife, his son, and his peace.' 'I know one thing he was spared.'
'What?'
'The knowledge that his name was to be a hissing and a byword down the centuries.'
'Yes. That would have been the final hea
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