He was uneasy, but he seemed to have lost all vital care
about the election, and even this disconcerting event did not greatly
change his feeling. He reproached himself that he cared so little; yet
his personal misery so absorbed him that his thoughts wandered even
from this new cause for self-reproach.
After supper that night he was summoned to the Father Superior.
"I wish you to do an errand for me," Father Frontford said. "I presume
that you have heard of the publication of Mrs. Wilson's letter. It may
do harm, and whatever happens I want her to know that I do not blame
her. She acted unwisely, no doubt; but her intention was good. Besides,
I really became responsible when I trusted so much to her judgment. I
shall be happier if I know that she is not thinking that I feel
disposed to be vexed with her."
The tone in which this was said was too sincere for Philip to doubt
that the Father uttered his true feeling. He looked into the face of
the other, and was struck by the complete weariness, almost exhaustion,
which marked it. He went on his way haunted by those deep-set eyes, so
full of pain, of fatigue, and, it seemed to Philip, of self-reproach.
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