cisively, "you must
have injured some one by your thought, your intention. Whom did you
injure?"

Jeffrey Whiting leaped at the train of thought, to follow it out from
the maze which his mind had been treading. Here was the answer. This
would clear the way. Whom had he injured?

Well, _whom_ had he injured? _Who_ had been hurt by his thought, his
wish, to kill a man? Had it hurt the man, Samuel Rogers? No. He was
none the worse of it.

Had it hurt Rafe Gadbeau? No. He did not enter into this at all.

Had it hurt Jeffrey Whiting, himself? Not till yesterday; and not in
the way meant.

Whom, then? And if it had hurt nobody, then--then why all this--?
Jeffrey Whiting rose from his chair as though to go. He did not look
at the Bishop. He stood with his eyes fixed unseeing upon the floor,
asking:

Whom?

Suddenly, from within, just barely audible through his lips there came
the answer; a single word:

"_God!_"

"Your business is with Him, then," said the Bishop, rising with what
almost seemed brusqueness. "You wanted to see Him."

"But--but," Jeffrey Whiting hesitated to argue, "men come to you, to
confess. Rafe Gadbeau--!"

"No," said the Bishop quickly, "you are wrong. Men come to me to
_confession_. They come to _confess_ to God."

He took the young man's hand, saying:

"I will not say another word. You have found your own answer. You
would not understand better if I talked forever. Find God, and tell
Him, what you have told me."

In the night Jeffrey Whiting rode back up the long way to the hills
and home. He was still bewildered, disappointed, and a little
resentful of the Bishop's brief manners with him. He had gone looking
for sympathy, understanding, help. And he had been told to find God.

Find God? How did men go about to find God? Wasn't all the world
continually on the lookout for God, and who ever found Him? Did the
preachers find Him? Did the priests find Him? And if they did, what
did they say to Him? Did people who were sick, and people who said God
had answered their prayers and punished their enemies for them; did
they find God?

Did they find Him when they prayed? Did they find Him when they were
in trouble? What did the Bishop mean? Find God? He must have meant
something? How did the Bishop himself find God? Was there some word,
some key, some hidden portal by which men found God? Was God to be
found here on the hills, in the night, in the open?

God! God! his soul cried incoheren