The bishop's face was very thoughtful. "That depends on what you mean by 'success.' Wealth, for instance, does not necessarily stand for success. You, if I may say so, are a practical idealist, for you have faith in your dream. You have achieved a vision revealed to few men's eyes and—"
A gentle knock at the door cut him short. The secretary came in with a telegram, and something in the face of the latter made Clark's heart leap within him. A few seconds later he placed the yellow slip in the bishop's hands, and gazed at him with twinkling eyes.
Ontario government advances two million on offered security and has notified your bank.
SEMPLE.
The bishop read it over slowly. "How can I congratulate you? What splendid news!"
"You have congratulated me."
"Eh! When?"
"You said I had faith in my dream. Now I beg of you not to move, but just see how things work."
In the course of the next ten minutes, the prelate saw Clark in swift action. Automatically the clear brain marshaled all the pressing duties of the moment and discharged them in quick succession. Messages to Filmer, to the military authorities, to various impatient creditors, were dispatched, for in this masterful hand was gathered every filament through which a vitalizing energy would again permeate the works. The flexible intellect of the man worked with a precision that was impressive. Presently the bishop rose to go. He stood, an imposing figure, animated with benign understanding and good will.
"Good-by, till we meet again. I rejoice with you in what has just taken place, but you are a prophet and all prophets are on a precarious pedestal. Had you been in the pursuit of wealth I could not have talked as I have to-day."