His father made a curious undulating motion with his hand.
"The Infinite that lends
A Yonder to all ends,"
he said after a pause, and gestured across the Weald stretched beneath them.
"I can see it," he mused, "and hear it. So can you. It's a Tide—like the wind in willow leaves. It's silvery and it rustles. It's there—and here—and everywhere. The scientists call it ether. So it is—from their point of view. If you approach it from the other side—our side—it's what you said. It goes like so—like a billow." With fine long-fingered hand he resumed that curious rhythmic motion of his. "I once heard somebody compare Humanity to an Undulating Wave. So it is, because it's the highest expression of That. It made us, and is us. All that about the Everlasting Arms which Mr. Pigott, and the Archdeacon, and your Salvation Joe talk about, it's all true—literally true. Only they put it crudely; and for most of them it's an opinion and not a fact of experience—that a man can prove for himself at any moment." He paused. "Love is Recognition—often instantaneous. It is the I-within recognizes the Me-without."
He was sitting up now, bare-headed. A lovely colour flushed his frail complexion. To Ernie, watching his scant hair, he seemed wonderfully innocent and pure: a child talking with the wisdom of an old man.
Then his father spoke again with an emphasis that was almost startling.
"It's the profound simplicity of life that baffles us," he said. "It's too simple for us to understand. Our brains aren't big enough—as yet." He was becoming strangely excited. Ernie thought he understood now the source of that exalted look of his father's. "But we shall some day. Already there has been One Man who did. Think of it! We crucified Him for it of course. We had to. He was climbing too far a-head: so we plucked him back to earth. You mustn't go too far ahead of the Herd. They won't stand it. But He knew: He trusted It: He could float in It—like that kittiwake, ascending into heaven, descending into hell, at will."
He lay back on the turf, exhausted, his hat over his eyes, his hands on the turf beside him.
"Ernie."
"Yes, dad."