Some three miles down the river from the blockhouse and on the east
side of St. Marys lived the bishop. Of him it might be said that, like
Clark's, his reputation extended far beyond the boundaries of this
northern district. But between these two, so alike in their magnetic
qualities, lay a substantial difference. Clark expressed himself in
large undertakings and great physical structures, while the bishop
worked in the hearts of men.
It was the custom of this most amiable prelate to give a garden party
once a year, to which came most of the adult population of St. Marys.
The house, a square gray stone block, lay at the edge of the bush and
around it was a spacious lawn from which one could saunter through the
vegetable garden and into the stable, and on this lawn, his hands
clasped behind his back, his head bent forward in thought, the bishop
might often be observed, a modern St. Francis, plunged in profound
thought.
Now, looking contentedly at the groups around him, he concluded that
never before had his party been so well attended. Dibbott and Filmer
and Bowers were there with their wives, and young Belding with the
Wordens. The Presbyterian minister and the Catholic priest were
admiring the strawberries, and Manson's deep voice came from a cluster
of men nearby. Most of the ladies wore spotless white dresses that
crackled as they moved. In the study the bishop's desk was obliterated
by dishes of strawberries and cream, and at the front gate the hired
man took charge of the buggies and tethered the horses to the long
fence of the pasture field. Three hundred yards away the river
sparkled in a clear, light blue. It was all very bright and animated.
Presently the bishop caught the young engineer's eyes and beckoned.
"Mr. Belding," he said, smiling, "I'm aware that you're very much
occupied just now with important things, but I've been wondering, just
the same, if you'd help me with something."
"What is it, Bishop?"
"I want a pro-cathedral, which is, as you know, that which does instead
of a cathedral. Every summer the church here seems to get smaller, and
I believe I could fill a bigger one."
Belding laughed. He, like the rest, knew that the largest church in
the country could not hold those who flocked to hear this golden voice.
"How much money is available?" he hazarded, "and have you any idea what
it is intended to spend. What about plans?"
"That's just it, we have no money and, of course, no plans, but,
considering the amount of building material you use every day, it
struck me that there might be laid aside enough to construct what I
want without causing any hardship."
Belding hesitated, but so friendly was the look on the bishop's face
and so quizzical the glance of the large brown eyes that he felt
immediately prompted to build a pro-cathedral. He felt a hand on his
shoulder.
"History has it that not so very long ago a certain young engineer
expressed that which was highest in his nature by building a cathedral.
Think it over." And with that the bishop turned to the Indian agent
who was moving mountainously across the lawn.
"Well, Mr. Dibbott, it seems just the other day when I arrived first in
St. Marys and drove under a green arch at Mr. Filmer's dock and the
entire population met me. One couldn't achieve that now. Great things
are happening."
"You mean up at the works, sir?"
"Yes. I went over them again last week and had a short talk with Mr.
Clark--a very remarkable man--though, I confess that so far I have not
observed him at church. I touched on that as a matter of fact."