Of the Bishop’s Quandary
said he, “that I had clean forgot my Lord Petersham.”
“That is well,” I returned, dropping back into my chair.
“But,” he continued, thoughtfully, “in truth, now that you recall me to my duty, I must remember also that pleasure has an end.”
He rose, and I rose with him. “My lord,” I said, for I was all for a long night, “it would ill become me to press you from your duty, but if you will consider the night”
“Ah, Ryder,” he interrupted, smiling graciously, “pray do not beset a poor sinner with temptations.” He stood before the fire, warming his legs. “This has been a pleasant encounter,” says he, “and now I will keep you to your promise.”
As he put it in that way, I had no more words against his purpose, and, having settled the score, we set forth again upon the horses, myself this time upon Calypso. The night was still very bitter, but I, at least, was warm with wine, and I think the Bishop, too, was full enough for comfort. Yet the cold edge of
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