The rector's self-sacrificing devotion to truth, moreover, awakened in
the artist a certain inner discomfort. To the keenly sensitive mind
there is no rebuke more galling than the unconscious reproof of a
character which holds steadfastly to ideals which it has basely
forsaken. Arthur said to himself that he hated Candish for his ungainly
person. "He is so out of drawing," he once told his wife, "that I
always have a strong inclination to rub him out and make him over
again." In that inmost chamber of his consciousness where he allowed
himself the luxury of absolute frankness, however, the artist confessed
that his animosity to the young rector had other causes.
As Fenton sank into his seat, Mrs. Staggchase leaned over to quote from
the poem,--
"'For Blougram, he believed, say, half he spoke.'"
The artist turned upon her a glance of comprehension and amusement, but
before he could reply, the rough, rather loud voice of Mr. Candish
arrested his attention.
"If the poem teaches anything," Mr. Candish said, speaking according to
his custom, somewhat too warmly, "it seems to me it is the sophistry of
the sort of talk which puts art above religion. The thing that offends
an honest man in Bishop Blougram is the fact that he looks at religion
as if it were an art, and not a vital and eternal necessity,--a living
truth that cannot be trifled with.
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