He seized the opportunity of the music ceasing to get away from the subject.  “Miriam dear,” he asked, raising his voice; “is that 109 or 111?  I can never tell.”

“That is always 111, Daddy,” said Miriam.  “It’s the other one is 109.”  And then evidently feeling that she had been pert:  “Would you like me to play you 109, Daddy?”

“I should love it, my dear.”  And he leant back and prepared to listen in such a thorough way that Eleanor would have no chance of discussing the Chasters’ heresies.  But this was interrupted by the consummation of the coffee, and Mr. Blent, breaking a long silence with “Mate in three, if I’m not mistaken,” leapt to his feet to be of service.  Eleanor, with the rough seriousness of youth, would not leave the Chasters case alone.

“But need you take action against Mr. Chasters?” she asked at once.

“It’s a very complicated subject, my dear,” he said.

“His arguments?”

“The practical considerations.”

“But what are practical considerations in such a case?”

“That’s a post-graduate subject, Norah,” her father said with a smile and a sigh.

“But,” began Eleanor, gathering fresh forces.

“Daddy is tired,” Lady Ella intervened, patting him on the head.

“Oh, terribly!—­of that,” he said, and so escaped Eleanor for the evening.

But he knew that before very long he would have to tell his wife of the changes that hung over their lives; it would be shabby to let the avalanche fall without giving the longest possible warning; and before they parted that night he took her hands in his and said:  “There is much I have to tell you, dear.  Things change, the whole world changes.  The church must not live in a dream....

“No,” she whispered.  “I hope you will sleep to-night,” and held up her grave sweet face to be kissed.

(6)

But he did not sleep perfectly that night.

He did not sleep indeed very badly, but he lay for some time thinking, thinking not onward but as if he pressed his mind against very strong barriers that had closed again.  His vision of God which had filled the heavens, had become now gem-like, a minute, hard, clear-cut conviction in his mind that he had to disentangle himself from the enormous complications of symbolism and statement and organization and misunderstanding in the church and achieve again a simple and living worship of a simple and living God.  Likeman had puzzled and silenced him, only upon reflection to convince him that amidst such intricacies of explanation the spirit cannot live.  Creeds may be symbolical, but symbols must not prevaricate.  A church that can symbolize everything and anything means nothing.

It followed from this that he ought to leave the church.  But there came the other side of this perplexing situation.  His feelings as he lay in his bed were exactly like those one has in a dream when one wishes to run or leap or shout and one can achieve no movement, no sound.  He could not conceive how he could possibly leave the church.