With this salutary reflection Brother Raphe again laid down his pen; and presently, leaving the letter unfinished, he rose and went in search of food for the doves. In these gentle creatures he took great pleasure: the delicate sheen of their plumage charmed him; their voices comforted his heart and conjured him out of winter into a paradise of sunshine and green shadow and running water; and the pattern of their flight was a continuing counterpoint, innocent and subtle as the love of God. He sometimes indulged the fancy that the spirits of the blest would from time to time assume the form of doves, and that he himself might some day spread wings and fly away and be at rest in flight, and, in that contemplation of the Eternal which was God’s bounty to the disimprisoned soul, forget the cruelties and enmities and dolorous disasters of earth. The dovecote was a stout red-bricked building surrounded by tall birches: in summer a cool refuge, in winter feathery warm with duskiness and soft crooning and fluttering wings. This morning, as he entered, he experienced more than ever a feeling of sanctuary. At his first word of greeting, the air became full of wings, a winged cloud that settled upon him, his head, his shoulders, his outstretched arms: he stood like a man drenched in a fountain of birds, drenched and contented. ‘Now, my dears,’ said he, ‘it is breakfast-time. Let me see what I can find in my pocket. But first of all . . .’ First of all, lest there should chance to be a Christian among them, he said grace, and at the words ‘
When the birds had been fed with the food he brought them, and their spirits quickened (let us hope) by his homilies, he went back to his letter:
And now, my dear Jack, I must hasten to an end; for Mrs Dewdney hath been free of me too long, and there are scuttles to be fill’d. Pray give my respects to Dr Humphrey and his amiable daughter, if it chance they retain any recollection of me; and for yourself I trust to find on your return that you have quite recover’d your old colour, for I am fully persuaded that your indifferent health these last few months hath mostly proceeded from your interior vexations, which, whatever they may be and however deep hidden even from yourself, will be quickly dispersed in the sunshine of your friends’ kindness and hospitality. We were on short commons last Friday, being unable to procure in time the dry salt fish and red herrings we had promised ourselves, but made shift to do very well on Apple Pie, with afterwards a little cabbage. Eggs are today but ten a groat, so I doubt you have the advantage of us in that. Our weather is a trifle out of humour; frost came sudden last night and froze the rain on the roads, which are like glass and very hazardous as you may suppose. But, let the weather change as it may, I am always,
My dear Sir,