"
"Ah," Fenton's smooth and beautiful voice rejoined, "that is to
confound art with the artificial, which is an obvious error. Art is a
passion, an utter devotion to an ideal, an absolute lifting of man out
of himself into that essential truth which is the only lasting bond by
which mankind is united."
Fenton's coolness always had a confusing and irritating effect upon Mr.
Candish, who was too thoroughly honest and earnest to quibble, and far
from possessing the dexterity needed to fence with the artist. He began
confusedly to speak, but with the first word became aware that Mrs.
Fenton had come to the rescue. Edith never saw a contest between her
husband and the clergyman without interfering if she could, and now she
instinctively spoke, without stopping to consider where she was.
"It is precisely for that reason," she said, "that art seems to me to
fall below religion. Art can make man contented with life only by
keeping his attention fixed upon an ideal, while religion reconciles us
to life as it really is."
A murmur of assent showed Arthur how much against the feeling of those
around him were the views he was advancing.
"Oh, well," he said, in a droll _sotto voce_, "if it is coming down to
a family difference we will continue it in private."
And he abandoned the discussion.
"It seems to me," pursued Mr. Candish, only half conscious that Mrs.
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