No sign.
“Or thy worldly matters? Nay. Thy wife? Thy child? Any of thy relations? Nay, to all. Then we will come to municipal matters. Doth anything there weigh on thee? Still nay. Thy guild?”
The bishop persisted in a string of questions which brought no response, before arriving at the subject of the Cathedral, which in his own mind he doubted not was where the trouble lay. Indeed, his first question as to whether it were not so, brought the lifted finger, and a hopeful gleam in the eyes. Only Prothasy was in the room, Hugh having gone down to the yard.
But, try as he might, the bishop found his task very difficult. They narrowed the matter at last to the corbel, but Elyas got restless and irritable with making efforts to speak and explain himself, and the bishop laid his hand finally upon his arm, saying kindly—
“Have patience. We shall reach it in time. Thou dost but fever thyself with vain struggles. Hearken. I have assured thee that we will wait months, ay, years if thou wilt, till God gives back thy strength. Is that what thou desirest?”
No sign.
“Nay?” repeated the bishop, in some surprise. He paused, and then bent forward. “Wouldst thou then have another take the work? Ay? And carry out thy designs? Ay, again. Goodman, were that not a pity? A little patience and thy strength may come back, the leech says—”
But his words died away before the look which the sick man turned on him. He looked away to collect himself.
“If it must be so,” he said at length, hesitatingly. “Goodwife, you understand it as I do? It is no doing of ours.”
“Nay, my lord, it is clearly his wish,” said Prothasy firmly.