“It is hard,” hesitated the Bishop, “for me to talk about these things—with you. It is hard for me to understand,” his tired eyes widened with the effort to understand. “You mean with the Story ever before you, that yet you cannot see—Him?”
“I see nothing. I’ve come to a pretty dark place in my career, successful, I suppose it would be called.”
“Since I’ve come to be old, I find I don’t always call things by their right names. Success and failure, I don’t always know how to name them.”
“But you have success!”
“No—no, you have showed me clearly to-day that I have failure.”
“I have shown you?”
“Don’t you remember that I came here with a hope?”
“Which I have destroyed? But, Bishop, the work you describe is impossible to me. You know, no one better, what I am. The amazing thing is that knowing, you still chose me. Why, such a work requires a courage, a conviction, a vision such as—”
“You have not courage?”
“Not, not courage of your sort, now.”