A sudden shadow dropped over Newbold’s face. “Have I not?” he questioned himself darkly, then louder, “With you, Bishop, it is always curiously hard not to say what one thinks. Yet I don’t wish you to misunderstand me. I seem to want to be understood this morning. And you’re the only person in the universe, I believe, who’d take the trouble. It’s not, then, that I don’t myself believe the principles of the Christian religion.”
A smile, infinitely sad and subtle, passed over the Bishop’s lips. “Since you are a minister of the Gospel,” he said gently, “one might hope that you believe it.”
“I have come to believe a good bit of it.”
“To believe enough, lad?”
The Christmas bells had begun again. The voices of the churchgoers sounded on the clear air, but the Christmas visitor sat unheeding.
The Rector’s voice was rasped with the tension of self-defense. “Unfortunately for his health and happiness, a minister of the Gospel has much more to think about than what he believes. He has to think what his own congregation is going to allow him to say and to do; he has to think what the church at large is going to allow him to say and to do. He has to think of the success of his own parish, and of the church, and of himself. All three must please the public or fail. Now my policy—”
“Yes,” the Bishop commented quietly, “your policy? A man of growing influence, like yours, would naturally have outlined for himself his creed and his conduct.”
“My conduct, assuredly, yes. It has been my endeavor ever since I entered the priesthood, and will always be my aim, to establish respect for the church, and its clergy, in the community, and in the world at large.”
“And by what methods?”
“The same that prevail in other organizations, sound business system, and the establishment of social dignity. We can’t expect our young men to be attracted to the ministry unless we can show them something in it worth getting,—they naturally want to get out of it reputation, success, social recognition, as in other professions.”