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Updated: June 25, 2025
It was chiefly manifest to him that the difficulties in explaining the changes of his outlook to Lady Ella had now increased enormously. A day or so after Lady Sunderbund's arrival in Princhester the bishop had a letter from Likeman. The old man was manifestly in doubt about the effect of their recent conversation. "My dear Scrope," it began.
He found Likeman perceptibly older and more shrivelled on account of the war, but still as sweet and lucid and subtle as ever. His voice sounded more than ever like a kind old woman's. He sat buried in his cushions for "nowadays I must save every scrap of vitality" and for a time contented himself with drawing out his visitor's story.
But Lord Rampound that evening had that morbid running of bluish legal anecdotes which is so common an affliction with lawyers, and theology sinks and dies in that turbid stream. But as he lay in bed that night he thought of his old friend and helper Bishop Likeman, and it was borne in upon him that he should consult him. And this he did next day.
I remember how at the time I didn't dare betray my boiling indignation even to you I scarcely dared admit it to myself...." He paused. "It doesn't matter at all," and old Likeman waved it aside. "Not at all," he confirmed, waving again. "I spoke of the whole church of Christ on earth," he went on.
For a long time the bishop sat passively receptive to this healing beauty. Then a little flow of thought began and gathered in his mind. He had come out to think over two letters that he had brought with him. He drew these now rather reluctantly from his pocket, and after a long pause over the envelopes began to read them. He reread Likeman's letter first. Likeman could not forgive him.
They were discursive and many-fronted, and whenever he seemed to be penetrating or defeating the particular considerations under examination the others in the background had a way of appearing invincible. He had a strong persuasion that Likeman was wrong and unanswerable. And the true God now was no more than the memory of a very vividly realized idea.
"You leave our stupid old Trinities as I left them long ago," said old Likeman, with his lean hand feeling and clawing at the arm of his chair. "But !" The old man raised his hand and dropped it. "You go away from it all straight as a line. I did. You take the wings of the morning and fly to the uttermost parts of the earth. And there you find "
And one afternoon he went for a walk with Eleanor along the banks of the Prin, and found himself, in response to certain openings of hers, talking to her in almost exactly the same terms as Likeman had used to him. Then suddenly the problem of this theological eclaircissement was complicated in an unexpected fashion.
"The Great Temple of the Ages," he repeated. "But do you remember the trouble we had when the little old Queen was so pigheaded?" "Oh! I remember, I remember," said Likeman, smiling with unshaken confidence. "Why not?" "For sixty years all we bishops in what you call the Great Temple of the Ages, were appointed and bullied and kept in our places by that pink irascible bit of dignity.
"Assuming even that you are absolutely right," said Bishop Likeman, "aren't you still rather in the position of a man who insists upon Swedish exercises and a strengthening dietary on a raft?" "I think you have made out a case for delay," said his hearer. "Three months." The Bishop of Princhester conceded three months. "Including every sort of service.
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