"But, grandfather, the things we believe aren't so very different, and
I like to pray in their chapel."
"Why not pray in your own kirk?"
"It's so bare."
"There's nothing to distract your thoughts."
"And I like the singing, and the lights and the candles--"
"We need no candles; we have light enough in our souls."
But Bruce had loved the smell of the incense, and the purple and red of
the robes, and, seeing it all through the golden haze of the lights,
his sense of beauty had been satisfied, as it was not satisfied in his
own plain house of worship.
Yet it had been characteristic of the boy as it was of the man that
neither kirk nor chapel held him, and he had gone through life liking
each a little, but neither overmuch.
Something of this he tried to express to Jean as, arriving at Woodstock
in the early afternoon, they passed the College. "I might have been a
priest," he said, "if I hadn't been too much of a Puritan or a Pagan.
I am not sure which held me back--"
Jean shuddered. "How can people shut themselves away from the world?"
"They have a world of their own, my dear," said the Doctor,
thoughtfully, "and I'm not sure that it isn't as interesting as our
own.
Pages:
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245