(This, by the way, is a typed copy, with which the Bishop has been kind enough to supply me.) You have, I assume, no belief in it or in the efficacy of the Absolution that follows it." The Master, searching for a paragraph, did not perceive that Brother Copas flushed slightly.
"And," he continued, as he found the passage and laid his finger on it, "although you set out your arguments with point--with fairness, too, let me add--I am perhaps not very far wrong in guessing that you have for Confession an instinctive dislike which to your own mind means more than any argument you use." The Master looked up with a smile; but by this time Brother Copas's flush had faded.
"You may say that, Master, of the whole document.

I am an old man-- far too old to have my beliefs and disbeliefs quickened by argument.
They have long since hardened into prejudices; and, speaking generally, I have a prejudice against this setting of old men by the ears with a lot of Neo-Catholic stuff which irritates half of us while all are equally past being provoked to any vital good." The Master sighed, for he understood.
"I, too, am old," he answered, "older even than you; and as death draws nearer I incline with you, to believe that the fewer our words on these questions that separate us the better.

(There's a fine passage to that effect in one of Jowett's Introductions, you may remember--the _Phaedo_, I think.) Least said is soonest mended, and good men are too honest to go out of the world professing more than they know.

Since we are opening our minds a little beyond our wont, let me tell you exactly what is my own prejudice, as you would call it.

To me Confession has been a matter of happy experience--I am speaking now of younger days, at Cuddesdon--" "Ah!" breathed Copas.
"And the desire to offer to others what has been a great blessing to myself, has at times been very strong.