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touched some hidden spring--of vanity perhaps it was--in him,



that made him respond. But partly also it was because after the

evacuation of the palace at Princhester he had felt more and



more, felt but never dared to look squarely in the face, the

catastrophic change in the worldly circumstances of his family.



Only this chapel adventure seemed likely to restore those fallen

and bedraggled fortunes. He had not anticipated a tithe of the



dire quality of that change. They were not simply uncomfortable

in the Notting Hill home. They were miserable. He fancied they



looked to him with something between reproach and urgency. Why

had he brought them here? What next did he propose to do? He



wished at times they would say it out instead of merely looking

it. Phoebe's failing appetite chilled his heart.



That concern for his family, he believed, had been his chief

motive in clinging to Lady Sunderbund's projects long after he



had realized how little they would forward the true service of

God. No doubt there had been moments of flattery, moments of



something, something rather in the nature of an excited

affection; some touch of the magnificent in her, some touch of



the infantile,--both appealed magnetically to his imagination;

but the real effective cause was his habitual solicitude for his



wife and children and his consequent desire to prosper

materially. As his first dream of being something between



Mohammed and Peter the Hermit in a new proclamation of God to the

world lost colour and life in his mind, he realized more and more



clearly that there was no way of living in a state of material

prosperity and at the same time in a state of active service to



God. The Church of the One True God (by favour of Lady

Sunderbund) was a gaily-coloured lure.



And yet he wanted to go on with it. All his imagination and

intelligence was busy now with the possibility of in some way



subjugating Lady Sunderbund, and modifying her and qualifying her

to an endurable proposition. Why?



Why?

There could be but one answer, he thought. Brought to the test



of action, he did not really believe in God! He did not believe

in God as he believed in his family. He did not believe in the



reality of either his first or his second vision; they had been

dreams, autogenous revelations, exaltations of his own



imaginations. These beliefs were upon different grades of

reality. Put to the test, his faith in God gave way; a sword of



plaster against a reality of steel.

And yet he did believe in God. He was as persuaded that there



was a God as he was that there was another side to the moon. His

intellectualconviction was complete. Only, beside the living,



breathing--occasionally coughing--reality of Phoebe, God was

something as unsubstantial as the Binomial Theorem....



Very like the Binomial Theorem as one thought over that

comparison.



By this time he had reached the banks of the Serpentine and was

approaching the grey stone bridge that crosses just where Hyde



Park ends and Kensington Gardens begins. Following upon his

doubts of his religious faith had come another still more



extraordinary question: "Although there is a God, does he indeed

matter more in our ordinary lives than that same demonstrable



Binomial Theorem? Isn't one's duty to Phoebe plain and clear?"

Old Likeman's argument came back to him with novel and enhanced



powers. Wasn't he after all selfishly putting his own salvation

in front of his plain duty to those about him? What did it matter



if he told lies, taught a false faith, perjured and damned

himself, if after all those others were thereby saved and



comforted?

"But that is just where the whole of this state of mind is



false and wrong," he told himself. "God is something more than a

priggish devotion, an intellectualformula. He has a hold and a



claim--he should have a hold and a claim--exceeding all the

claims of Phoebe, Miriam, Daphne, Clementina--all of them....



But he hasn't'!...

It was to that he had got after he had left Lady Sunderbund,



and to that he now returned. It was the thinness and unreality of

his thought of God that had driven him post-haste to






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