He had seen the dead hero but half a dozen times in his life: he had
never been honoured by a word from him: but like every other naval
officer, he had come to look up to Nelson as to the splendid
particular star among commanders. _There_ was greatness: _there_ was
that which lifted men to such deeds as write man's name across the
firmament! And, strange to say, Lieutenant Lapenotiere recognised
something of it in this queer old man, in dressing-gown and
ill-fitting wig, who took snuff and interrupted now with a curse and
anon with a "bravo!" as the Secretary read. He was absurd: but he
was no common man, this Lord Barham. He had something of the
ineffable aura of greatness.
But in the Lieutenant's brain, across this serious, even awful sense
of the moment and of its meaning, there played a curious secondary
sense that the moment was not--that what was happening before his
eyes had either happened before or was happening in some vacuum in
which past, present, future and the ordinary divisions of time had
lost their bearings. The great twenty-four-hour clock at the end of
the Board Room, ticking on and on while the Secretary read, wore an
unfamiliar face.
Pages:
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163