‘And Jesus Christ?—would He have any place there at all? or would you banish Him with the rest of the gods?’
‘Heaven forbid! He should be pictured in the very central window, over the altar—not bleeding, horrible, and crucified, but as the happy painters represented Him in the early centuries, a beautiful young Shepherd—yes, beautiful as Apollo—carrying under His arm a stray lamb.’
Alma sighed, and shook her head again. She was amused with her friend’s opinions, and they never seemed to shock her, but her own attitude of mind with regard to Christianity was very different.
‘Yet,’ she said, still watching the distant spire, ‘If you abolish Christ crucified you abolish Christ the Saviour altogether; for sorrow, suffering, and death were the signs of His heavenly mission. Besides, I am of Mr. Bradley’s opinion, and think we have too many churches already.’
‘Does he think so?’ exclaimed Miss Combe with some surprise.
‘Yes, I have often heard him say that God’s temple is the best—the open fields for a floor and the vaulted heavens for a roof.’
Miss Combe rose, and they strolled on together.
‘Is he as heterodox as ever?’ asked Miss Combe.
‘Mr. Bradley? I don’t know what you mean by heterodox, but he has his own opinions on the articles of his religion.’
‘Just so. He doesn’t believe in the miracles, for example.’