well enough furnished? Do you want to reduce my circular infinite
chapel to an oblong hundred-foot one? My sphere harmonies to the
Gregorian tones in four parts? My world-wide priesthood, with their
endless variety of costume, to one not over-educated gentleman in a
white sheet? And my dreams of naiads and flower-fairies, and the
blue-bells ringing God's praises, as they do in "The story without
an End," for the gross reality of naughty charity children, with
their pockets full of apples, bawling out Hebrew psalms of which
they neither feel nor understand a word?'

Argemone tried to look very much shocked at this piece of bombast.
Lancelot evidently meant it as such, but he eyed her all the while
as if there was solemn earnest under the surface.

'Oh, Mr. Smith!' she said, 'how can you dare talk so of a liturgy
compiled by the wisest and holiest of all countries and ages! You
revile that of whose beauty you are not qualified to judge!'

'There must be a beauty in it all, or such as you are would not love
it.'

'Oh,' she said hopefully, 'that you would but try the Church system!
How you would find it harmonise and methodise every day, every
thought for you! But I cannot explain myself. Why not go to our
vicar and open your doubts to him?'

'Pardon, but you must excuse me.'

'Why? He is one of the saintliest of men!'