]
Now! Tell me about your church.
[During the following speech the BISHOP is occupied with his own
thoughts: after the first few words he makes no attempt at
listening: indeed, the trumpet goes down to the table again in no
time. On the other hand, ROBERT, at first apathetic, gradually
awakens to the keenest interest in what MANSON says.]
MANSON [very simply]. I am afraid you may not consider it an
altogether substantial concern. It has to be seen in a certain
way, under certain conditions. Some people never _see_ it at all.
You must understand, this is no dead pile of stones and unmeaning
timber. _It is a living thing_.
BISHOP [in a hoarse whisper, self-engrossed]. Numberless millions!
MANSON. When you enter it you hear a sound--a sound as of some
mighty poem chanted. Listen long enough, and you will learn that
it is made up of the beating of human hearts, of the nameless music
of men's souls--that is, if you have ears. If you have eyes, you
will presently see the church itself--a looming mystery of many
shapes and shadows, leaping sheer from floor to dome.
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