s_!) has bartered away the one valid consolation of mankind for an
impossible hope that begets only discontent and mutual hatred among men.
They are the followers of Simon Magus, these humanitarians; they would buy
the gifts of Heaven with a price; and their creed is the real Simonism.
Have you ever read the _Imitation_, and do you remember these verses?

For though I alone possessed all the comforts of the world and might
enjoy all the delights thereof, yet it is certain that they could
endure but a little.

Wherefore, O my soul, thou canst not be fully comforted, nor be
perfectly refreshed, save in God, the comforter of the poor and the
helper of the humble.

Let temporal things be for use, but set thy desire on the eternal.

Man draweth nearer to God so as he departeth further from all earthly
comfort.

You have taught me to love, dear Heart; and now, as you see, you are
teaching me to be orthodox. Do not think I shall give you up; there is
only one power greater than my desire, and that is Death. I would not end
with so ill-omened a word, but rather with your own sweet name, Jessica.

XXI

JESSICA TO PHILIP

DEAR FATHER CONFESSOR:

You observe, I do not retaliate by addressing you as Dear Philip. After
reflecting, I conclude that this would be an undue concession to make,
while the above title removes you to a safer sphere. It limits and
qualifies your relationship and at the same time affords me the happy
advantage of confessing my heart to you. Really, I have always felt the
need of such an officer in my spiritual kingdom. I could never reconcile
myself to the incongruity of confessing in our experience meetings. It
seemed to me that sharing my confidence with so many people was heterodox
to nature itself. For this reason I have always thought that while
Protestantism is based upon a nobler theory of the truth, Roman
Catholicism is founded upon a much shrewder knowledge of human nature.

However, I do not come seeking absolution for any sins. Such shortcomings
as I have are so personal, so really a part of dear me, that I should
scarcely be complete without them. They are vixenish plagues of character
that distinguish me from more conventional saints. But now that I have
willed myself away from you, I need no longer conceal my heart. My love
has been shriven, and, like a little white ghost out of heaven, must hark
back to you occasionally for a blessing.

To begin with, then,