It seemed arguable that Scrope owed some explanation to Likeman before he came to any open breach with the Establishment.

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.

Of course, one does not talk to Likeman of visions or intuitions.  “I am disturbed, I find myself getting out of touch;” that was the bishop’s tone.

Occasionally Likeman nodded slowly, as a physician might do at the recital of familiar symptoms.  “Yes,” he said, “I have been through most of this....  A little different in the inessentials....  How clear you are!”

“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—­”

He held up a lean finger, and inclined it to tick off each point.

“Fate—­which is God the Father, the Power of the Heart, which is God the Son, and that Light which comes in upon us from the inaccessible Godhead, which is God the Holy Spirit.”

“But I know of no God the Holy Spirit, and Fate is not God at all.  I saw in my vision one sole God, uncrucified, militant—­conquering and to conquer.”

Old Likeman stared.  “You saw!”

The Bishop of Princhester had not meant to go so far.  But he stuck to his words.  “As if I saw with my eyes.  A God of light and courage.”

“You have had visions, Scrope?”

“I seemed to see.”

“No, you have just been dreaming dreams.”

“But why should one not see?”

“See!  The things of the spirit.  These symbols as realities!  These metaphors as men walking!”

“You talk like an agnostic.”

“We are all agnostics.  Our creeds are expressions of ourselves and our attitude and relationship to the unknown.  The triune God is just the form of our need and disposition.  I have always assumed that you took that for granted.  Who has ever really seen or heard or felt God?  God is neither of the senses nor of the mind; he is of the soul.  You are realistic, you are materialistic....”

His voice expostulated.

The Bishop of Princhester reflected.  The vision of God was far off among his memories now, and difficult to recall.  But he said at last:  “I believe there is a God and that he is as real a person as you or I. And he is not the theological God we set out before the world.”

“Personification,” said Likeman.  “In the eighteenth century they used to draw beautiful female figures as Science and Mathematics.  Young men have loved Science—­and Freedom—­as Pygmalion loved Galatea.  Have it so if you will.  Have a visible person for your Deity.  But let me keep up my—­spirituality.”