The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1896-10-03
A BISHOPS WEDDING.


''Can a nan in his senses believe In hap
piness9'' said the socialist between two sips
Of champagne
'.Or ia love9'' the college woman added.
Yet she was engaged to be married
II fear I am old fashioned enough to
believe in beth" the bishop answered
DON'T ask me to defend my position.
know I haven't an inch Of logical ground
to stand on. Tt is merely my working
theory, which may come Of use to me some
day"
The college woman said nothing. She
was studying the bishops face and won
dering If, under his polished, somewhat
cold, manner the churchman preserved
belief In the gold and purple places Of hui
man experience.
You viii Let me know, bishop, 3" said
the novelist. ''if your theory Of love and
happiness-in lasting forms, Of course-is
ever clothed with life=our life? I viii
build a book about it. .
81 viii not fail to let you know" said
the bishop.
"a feeling Of depression was creeping
over him, which he must hide with skin
from his guests, the result Of an inded-
nable impression that in some way he had
failed-that they had all failed-the sue
cessful novelist, the successful artist, the
successful woman of the new type. An
idle fanoyl
The butler had approached him with
shade of anxiety on his face
"A man below, sir, insists on seeing
you james told him the circumstances
but be would not be put off. He acted pc
culiar. II you would send word -
mo, viii go down. %
AS he descended the stairs he saw a curl
GUS figure, standing with certain natural
case and grace in the stately, brightly
lighted hall-a man about 80 years old
fr7e afc
The bishop conceived an instant dislike
Of this man, as of one. in some obscure
way, once rival The stranger stepped
forward.
II beg your pardon, bishop, for inter
rupting the great function Of a dinner, but
the case is urgent My wife is dying
partly of hunger, partly Of life. She had
wished a prayer said over her. I came for
you.
81 VIII go with you, 80 said the bishop.
He went back and took leave Of his
guests.
The woman lay on the narrow bed as
one without care and without desire. The
bishop looked upon her face with an in
slant recognition that, whatever had been
the outward setting Of his life, never for
an hour had she been the wife of this man
in anything but material form and sign.
The impulse seized him to thrust this in
truder in his vulgarity and poverty of
spirit, neck and crop, into the street which
claimed him.
The wife opened her eyes with a strange
alien look upon her husband
This Is the bishop, Alice, the bishop
Of this town which has used you and me so
badly. Hen say a prayer for you if you
like Perhaps he'll show his faith By his
works. I have told him that we are bitten
by cold and hunger and that we haven't o
penny.
did you tell him als''
My sins, you mean, the cause of our
little miseries9 No dear. I did not.
The woman turned her face to the bishop,
and their eyes met. 1t was the birth OF a
moment that could have nothing to do
with time ard its accidents. To her it was
as if there stood before her in this wholly
self possessed and dignided figure the en-
bodiment of what she had desired and had
been denied in the troubled years Of her
past-meutal and moral order, strength
holding sweetness within it, refinement Of
character which should mold the simplest
events Of daily life into comely forms; yes,
and something greater than these which
might include them, together with every
other imaginable grace and beauty, as
light holds all colOr-a love which gives
life.
To the bishop she seemed to embody
those forces of which his dinner guests, in
ity-love and the power of love to give Joy.
Strange enough in this her setting of pow
erty and painl
The husband laid a hand upon his arm.
'fSir, do not delay. She needs food more
than she needs your prayers Will you
force me to tell you again that have no
money? a gentleman viii surely not re-
fuse a gentleman.
The bishop drew him into the hallway
and put note in his hand.
The man went lightly down the stairs,
with a sinister exultation in his manner.
AS the bishop re-entered the room the vO-
man turned her eyes to his again
The bishop spoke no word, but his eyes
answered hers.
She drew his hand into her hands. "If
I should ask your name, p she said, or the
paths by which you came to me at last.
what could it tell me? You are here.
II came by many paths-to comfort
you.
81 am conforted- -
" You have been unhappy"
81 forget. I am happy now. -
She drew his hand to her breast. 'And
you-have you been happy9'
'No. Only successful
e And now?"
The bishop looked into her eyes 1T am
satisfied. y
She drew his hand closer to her breast.
The silence deapened around them
There was no sound Of returning foot
steps on the stair Perhaps the echo Of
them had died out forever
She never took her gaze from his face,
but great weariness was weighing down
her eyelids. You viii not leave me if I
fall asleepg''
mo; Twill not leave you Go to sleep. -
The silence deepened around them
In the breathless hour between nights
maturity and the dawn the bishop left the
still form to the care Of others. With death
he had nothing to do
He went to his lonely house with the
aerial step Of one possessed by an almost
unbeatable joy.