lege or tell others of things that God had not chosen to show them.

"Since I saw you," he said, "I have thought a great deal--of the subject
of our conversation."

"I have been t'ying to think," she said in a confirmatory tone, as if
she had co-operated.

"My faith in God grows," he said.

She glowed. Her lips fell apart. She flamed attention.

"But it grows less like the faith of the church, less and less. I was
born and trained in Anglicanism, and it is with a sort of astonishment I
find myself passing now out of every sort of Catholicism--seeing it from
the outside...."

"Just as one might see Buddhism," she supplied.

"And yet feeling nearer, infinitely nearer to God," he said.

"Yes," she panted; "yes."

"I thought if one went out, one went out just to doubt and darkness."

"And you don't?"

"No."

"You have gone at one step to a new 'iligion!"

He stared for a moment at the phrase.

"To religion," he said.

"It is so wondyful," she said, with her hands straight down upon the
couch upon which she was sitting, and leaning forward at him, so as to
seem almost as much out of drawing as a modern picture.

"It seems," he reflected; "--as if it were a natural thing."

She came back to earth very slowly. She turned to the tea-things with
hushed and solemn movements as though she administered a ceremony of
peculiar significance. The bishop too rose slowly out of the profundity
of his confession. "No sugar please," he said, arresting the lump in mid
air.

It was only when they were embarked upon cups of tea and had a little
refreshed themselves, that she carried the talk further.

"Does it mean that you must leave the church?" she asked.

"It seemed so at first," he said. "But now I do not know. I do not know
what I ought to do."

She awaited his next thought.

"It is as if one had lived in a room all one's life and thought it the
world--and then suddenly walked out through a door and discovered the
sea and the mountains and stars. So it was with me and the Anglican
Church. It seems so extraordinary now--and it would have seemed the
most natural thing a year ago--to think that I ever believed that the
Anglican Compromise was the final truth of religion, that nothing more
until the end of the world could ever be known that Cosmo Gordon Lang
did not know, that there could be no conception of God and his quality
that Randall Davidson did not possess."

He paused.

"I did," he said.

"I did,"