Meanwhile, trouble had arisen between the Bishop and Mr. Morewood.
Morewood was an artist of great ability, originality, and skill; and if
he had not attained the honors of the Academy, it was perhaps more of
his own fault than that of the exalted body in question, as he always
treated it with an ostentatious contumely. After all, the Academy must
be allowed its feelings. Moreover, his opinions on many subjects were
known to be extreme, and he was not chary of displaying them. He was
sitting on Mrs. Lane's left, opposite the Bishop, and the latter had
started with his hostess a discussion of the relation between religion
and art. All went harmoniously for a time; they agreed that religion had
ceased to inspire art, and that it was a very regrettable thing; and
there, one would have thought the subject--not being a new one--might
well have been left. Suddenly, however, Mr. Morewood broke in:

"Religion has ceased to inspire art because it has lost its own
inspiration, and having so ceased, it has lost its only use."

The Bishop was annoyed. A well-bred man himself, he disliked what seemed
to him ill-bred attacks on opinions which his position proclaimed him to
hold.

"You cannot expect me to assent to either of your propositions, Mr.
Morewood," he said. "If I believed them, you know, I should not be in
the place I am."

"They're true, for all that," retorted Morewood. "And what is it to be
traced to?"

"I'm sure I don't know," said poor Mrs. Lane.