-but whether it will take a lifetime or a
hundred lifetimes or a thousand lifetimes, my Norah--"

He smiled and left his sentence unfinished, 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
momentary disagreeable 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 anxious
eyes and faintly propitiatory manner suggested an impending appeal.

Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey had the savoir-faire of a successful consultant; he
prided himself on being all things to all men; but just for an instant
he was at a loss what sort of thing he had to be here. Then he adopted
the genial, kindly, but by no means lavishly generous tone advisable
in the case of a man who has suffered considerable social deterioration
without being very seriously to blame.

Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey was a little round-faced man with defective
eyes