Oh that our last moments may be as innocent and as peaceful as his!" "Surely," said Mrs.Phillips.

"The Lord be praised for all his mercies; but, for a meek, mild, gentle-spoken Christian, his lordship was--" and Mrs.Phillips, with unaffected but easy grief, put up her white apron to her flowing eyes.
"You cannot but rejoice that it is over," said Mr.Harding, still consoling his friend.

The archdeacon's mind, however, had already travelled from the death chamber to the closet of the prime minister.
He had brought himself to pray for his father's life, but now that that life was done, minutes were too precious to be lost.

It was now useless to dally with the fact of the bishop's death--useless to lose perhaps everything for the pretence of a foolish sentiment.
But how was he to act while his father-in-law stood there holding his hand?
How, without appearing unfeeling, was he to forget his father in the bishop--to overlook what he had lost, and think only of what he might possibly gain?
"No, I suppose not," said he, at last, in answer to Mr.Harding.

"We have all expected it so long." Mr.Harding took him by the arm and led him from the room.