ad the
sky was like a benison, while the bishop spoke words of cheer and
strength that went straight to the hearts of his congregation. He
stood, as he always stood, in front of the chancel, a great figure in
white and scarlet, with a deep mellow voice that seemed to dissolve in
the hush of evening like a lingering caress. Clark, in his corner, sat
motionless, touched as he had seldom been touched before. He began to
see why the bishop spent his life in this wilderness.

Service done, the Evangeline moved out over a sea that was sheer, flat
silver. Indian Joe sat motionless at the wheel, the spokes pressed
lightly against his polished palm. At the engine room hatch a
voiceless Scotchman smoked a contemplative pipe, and for the rest of it
there was only the muffled thud of the propeller, the subdued stroke of
the engine and the whisper of split water at the yacht's knifelike
stem. Clark did not speak. It seemed as the yacht slipped on, that he
was exploring, a kingdom in which the population and their ways were
hitherto unknown to him; a domain that was pathetic rather than
poor--and remote from his scheme of things. He had given this phase of
life no thought till the bishop introduced him to it, and was puzzled
that both men and women could be so deprived of the salt of life and
yet be apparently content. The bishop's voice broke his reverie.

"Did you ever consider how much those with imagination owe to those who
have none?"

Clark started a little, then shook his head. "No, I haven't."

"Isn't it true?"

"It may be--but I don't see what there is to create any obligation."

"Well, you're discharging it every day. You create things primarily
for yourself, but actually what you do is to create opportunities for
others less endowed with imaginative power. And whatever may be the
ultimate scope or result of your work at St. Marys, that is the highest
service it will ever perform. And, by the way, my friends seemed a
little afraid of you at supper, though I assured them you were
perfectly harmless. Do you mind telling me if you got any impressions?"

"About the events of the day?"

"Partly. I'm wondering just what people like these suggest to a man of
your sort. Is it all very drab and uneventful?"

"Well," said Clark thoughtfully, "it is something like that, isn't it?"

"I thought so once, but that's just what I don't now admit, and urge
that this is a case where we should consider comparative va