What is he coming to see me for? I wondered. I spent the rest of
the afternoon in making the wildest surmises. I was castle-building in
Spain at a furious rate. At one time I imagined that this faithful son of
the church--as he appeared to me--was going to build and endow a grand
cathedral in Australia on condition that I should be appointed dean at a
yearly stipend of, say, ten thousand pounds. Or perhaps, I said to myself,
he will beg me to accept a sum of money--I never thought of it as less
than a thousand pounds--as a slight recognition of and tribute to my
remarkable vocal ability.
I took a long, lonely walk into the country to correct these ridiculous
fancies and to steady my mind, and when I reached home and had refreshed
myself with a quiet cup of afternoon tea, I felt I was morally and
physically prepared for my interview with the opulent stranger.
Punctually as the cathedral clock struck six there was a ring at the
visitor's bell. In a moment or two my unknown friend was shown into the
drawing-room, which he entered with the easy air of a man of the world. I
noticed he was carrying a small black bag.
"How do you do again, Mr. Dale?" he said as though we were old
acquaintances; "you see I have come sharp to my time."
"Yes," I answered, "and I am pleased to see you; do sit down." He sank
into my best armchair, and placed his bag on the floor beside him.
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