“Thomas,” retorted the Canon, “Thomas, how can you say such things! I can honestly say that I have never envied you. I have never allowed my mind to dwell on the possibility of surviving you.”
Lord Spratte gave his brother a sharp look.
“I have led a racketty life, Theodore, and you have taken great care of yourself. There’s every chance that you’ll survive me. By Jupiter, you’ll make things hum then!”
“I do not look upon this as a suitable matter for jesting,” retorted the Canon, with suave dignity. “If Providence vouchsafes to me a longer life, you may be sure I will fulfil the duties of my rank earnestly and to the best of my ability.”
“And what about the bishopric?” asked Lady Sophia.
“Who knows? Who knows?” he cried, walking about the room excitedly. “I have a presentiment that it will be offered to me.”
“In that case I have a presentiment that you will accept,” interrupted his brother. “You’re the most ambitious man I’ve ever known.”
“And if I am!” cried the Canon. “Ambition, says the Swan of Avon, is the last infirmity of noble minds. But what is the use of ambition now, when the Church has been wrongfully shorn of its power, and the clergy exist hazardously by sufferance of the vulgar? I should have lived four centuries ago, when the Church was a power in the land. Now it offers no scope for a man of energy. When the Tudors were kings of England a bishop might rule the country. He might be a great minister of state, holding the destinies of Europe in the hollow of his hand. I’ve come into the world too late. You may laugh at me, Thomas, but I tell you I feel in me the power to do great things. Sometimes I sit in my chair and I can hardly bear my inaction. Good heavens, what is there for me to do—to preach sermons to a fashionable crowd, to preside on committees, to go to dinner-parties in Mayfair. With your opportunities, Tom, I should have been Prime Minister by now, and I’d have made you Archbishop of Canterbury.”
Lady Sophia looked at him, smiling. She admired the mobile mouth and the flashing eyes, as with vehement gesture he flung out his words to the indifferent air. His voice rang clear and strong.
“I tell you that I am born with the heart of a crusader,” he exclaimed, striding about the room as though it were a field of battle. “In happier times I would have led the hosts of the Lord to Jerusalem. Bishops then wore coats of steel and they fought with halberd and with sword to gain the Sepulchre of the Lord their Saviour. I tell you that I cannot look at the portrait of Julius the Pope without thinking that I too have it in me to ride into action on my charger and crush the enemies of the Church. I’ve come into the world too late.”