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horrible creeds and distinctions. None of those things matter.

Call him Christ the God or call him simply God, Allah, Heaven; it



does not matter. He comes to us, we know, like a Helper and

Friend; that is all we want to know. You may speculate further if



you like, but it is not religion. They dispute whether he can set

aside nature. But that is superstition. He is either master of



nature and he knows that it is good, or he is part of nature and

must obey. That is an argument for hair-splitting metaphysicians.



Either answer means the same for us. It does not matter which way

we come to believe that he does not idly set the course of things



aside. Obviously he does not set the course of things aside. What

he does do for certain is to give us courage and save us from our



selfishness and the bitter hell it makes for us. And every one

knows too what sort of things we want, and for what end we want



to escape from ourselves. We want to do right. And right, if you

think clearly, is just truth within and service without, the



service of God's kingdom, which is mankind, the service of human

needs and the increase of human power and experience. It is all



perfectly plain, it is all quite easy for any one to understand,

who isn't misled and chattered at and threatened and poisoned by



evil priests and teachers."

"And you are going to preach that, Daddy?"



"If I can. When I am free--you know I have still to resign

and give up--I shall make that my message."



"And so God comes."

"God comes as men perceive him in his simplicity.... Let men



but see God simply, and forthwith God and his kingdom possess the

world."



She looked out to sea in silence for awhile.

Then she turned to her father. "And you think that His Kingdom



will come--perhaps in quite a little time--perhaps in our

lifetimes? And that all these ridiculous or wicked little kings



and emperors, and these political parties, and these policies and

conspiracies, and this nationalist nonsense and all the



patriotism and rowdyism, all the private profit-seeking and every

baseness in life, all the things that it is so horrible and



disgusting to be young among and powerless among, you think they

will fade before him?"



The bishop pulled his faith together.

"They will fade before him--but whether it will take a



lifetime or a hundred lifetimes or a thousand lifetimes, my Norah

--"



He smiled and left his sentenceunfinished, and she smiled back

at him to show she understood.



And then he confessed further, because he did not want to seem

merely sentimentally hopeful.



"When I was in the cathedral, Norah--and just before that

service, it seemed to me--it was very real.... It seemed that



perhaps the Kingdom of God is nearer than we suppose, that it

needs but the faith and courage of a few, and it may be that we



may even live to see the dawning of his kingdom, even--who

knows?--the sunrise. I am so full of faith and hope that I fear



to be hopeful with you. But whether it is near or far--"

"We work for it," said Eleanor.



Eleanor thought, eyes downcast for a little while, and then

looked up.



"It is so wonderful to talk to you like this, Daddy. In the old

days, I didn't dream--Before I went to Newnham. I misjudged



you. I thought Never mind what I thought. It was silly. But now I

am so proud of you. And so happy to be back with you, Daddy, and



find that your religion is after all just the same religion that

I have been wanting."



CHAPTER THE NINTH - THE THIRD VISION

(1)



ONE afternoon in October, four months and more after that

previous conversation, the card of Mr. Edward Scrope was brought



up to Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey. The name awakened no memories. The

doctor descended to discover a man so obviously in unaccustomed



plain clothes that he had a momentarydisagreeable idea that he

was facing a detective. Then he saw that this secular disguise



draped the familiar form of his old friend, the former Bishop of

Princhester. Scrope was pale and a little untidy; he had already



acquired something of the peculiar, slightly faded quality one

finds in a don who has gone to Hampstead and fallen amongst



advanced thinkers and got mixed up with the Fabian Society. His




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