第54章 THE EIGHTH - THE NEW WORLD(2)

The second letter was from Lady Sunderbund, and it was an altogether more remarkable document.Lady Sunderbund wrote on a notepaper that was evidently the result of a perverse research, but she wrote a letter far more coherent than her speech, and without that curious falling away of the r's that flavoured even her gravest observations with an unjust faint aroma of absurdity.

She wrote with a thin pen in a rounded boyish handwriting.She italicized with slashes of the pen.

He held this letter in both hands between his knees, and considered it now with an expression that brought his eyebrows forward until they almost met, and that tucked in the corners of his mouth.

"My dear Bishop," it began.

"I keep thinking and thinking and thinking of that wonderful service, of the wonderful, wonderful things you said, and the wonderful choice you made of the moment to say them--when all those young lives were coming to the great serious thing in life.

It was most beautifully done.At any rate, dear Bishop and Teacher, it was most beautifully begun.And now we all stand to you like creditors because you have given us so much that you owe us ever so much more.You have started us and you have to go on with us.You have broken the shell of the old church, and here we are running about with nowhere to go.You have to make the shelter of a new church now for us, purged of errors, looking straight to God.The King of Mankind!--what a wonderful, wonderful phrase that is.It says everything.Tell us more of him and more.Count me first--not foremost, but just the little one that runs in first--among your disciples.They say you are resigning your position in the church.Of course that must be true.You are coming out of it--what did you call it?--coming out of the cracked old vessel from which you have poured the living waters.I called on Lady Ella yesterday.She did not tell me very much; I think she is a very reserved as well as a very dignified woman, but she said that you intended to go to London.

In London then I suppose you will set up the first altar to the Divine King.I want to help.

"Dear Bishop and Teacher, I want to help tremendously--with all my heart and all my soul.I want to be let do things for you." (The "you" was erased by three or four rapid slashes, and "our King" substituted.) "I want to be privileged to help build that First Church of the World Unified under God.It is a dreadful thing to says but, you see, I am very rich; this dreadful war has made me ever so much richer--steel and shipping and things--it is my trustees have done it.I am ashamed to be so rich.I want to give.I want to give and help this great beginning of yours.I want you to let me help on the temporal side, to make it easy for you to stand forth and deliver your message, amidst suitable surroundings and without any horrid worries on account of the sacrifices you have made.Please do not turn my offering aside.I have never wanted anything so much in all my life as I want to make this gift.Unless I can make it Ifeel that for me there is no salvation! I shall stick with my loads and loads of stocks and shares and horrid possessions outside the Needle's Eye.But if I could build a temple for God, and just live somewhere near it so as to be the poor woman who sweeps out the chapels, and die perhaps and be buried under its floor! Don't smile at me.I mean every word of it.Years ago Ithought of such a thing.After I had visited the Certosa di Pavia --do you know it? So beautiful, and those two still alabaster figures--recumbent.But until now I could never see my way to any such service.Now I do.I am all afire to do it.Help me!

Tell me! Let me stand behind you and make your mission possible.

I feel I have come to the most wonderful phase in my life.I feel my call has come....

"I have written this letter over three times, and torn each of them up.I do so want to say all this, and it is so desperately hard to say.I am full of fears that you despise me.I know there is a sort of high colour about me.My passion for brightness.Iam absurd.But inside of me is a soul, a real, living, breathing soul.Crying out to you: 'Oh, let me help! Let me help!' I will do anything, I will endure anything if only I can keep hold of the vision splendid you gave me in the cathedral.I see it now day and night, the dream of the place I can make for you--and you preaching! My fingers itch to begin.The day before yesterday I said to myself, 'I am quite unworthy, I am a worldly woman, a rich, smart, decorated woman.He will never accept me as I am.' Itook off all my jewels, every one, I looked through all my clothes, and at last I decided I would have made for me a very simple straight grey dress, just simple and straight and grey.

Perhaps you will think that too is absurd of me, too self-conscious.I would not tell of it to you if I did not want you to understand how alive I am to my utter impossibilities, how resolved I am to do anything so that I may be able to serve.But never mind about silly me; let me tell you how I see the new church.