est and the doctor was the turning-point in his career. They had
lifted him bodily out of the slough of ignorance, of contact with low
minds and sordid, narrow things, and put him on solid ground. This book
he had been reading--this gentle, tender, lovable book, which had as
much true piety in it as any devotional book he had ever read, and yet,
unlike all devotional books, put its foot firmly upon everything which
could not be proved in human reason to be true--must be merely one of a
thousand which men like Father Forbes and Dr. Ledsmar knew by heart. The
very thought that he was on the way now to know them, too, made Theron
tremble. The prospect wooed him, and he thrilled in response, with the
wistful and delicate eagerness of a young lover.

Somehow, the fact that the priest and the doctor were not religious men,
and that this book which had so impressed and stirred him was nothing
more than Renan's recital of how he, too, ceased to be a religious man,
did not take a form which Theron could look square in the face. It wore
the shape, instead, of a vague premise that there were a great many
different kinds of religions--the past and dead races had multiplied
these in their time literally into thousands--and that each no doubt had
its central support of truth somewhere for the good men who were in it,
and that to call one of these divine and condemn all the others was
a part fit only for untutored bigots. Renan had formally repudiated
Catholicism, yet could write in his old age with the deepest filial
affection of the Mother Church he had quitted. Father Forbes could talk
coolly about the "Christ-myth" without even ceasing to be a priest,
and apparently a very active and devoted priest. Evidently there was an
intellectual world, a world of culture and grace, of lofty thoughts
and the inspiring communion of real knowledge, where creeds were not of
importance, and where men asked one another, not "Is your soul saved?"
but "Is your mind well furnished?" Theron had the sensation of having
been invited to become a citizen of this world. The thought so dazzled
him that his impulses were dragging him forward to take the new oath
of allegiance before he had had time to reflect upon what it was he was
abandoning.

The droning of the Doxology from the church outside stirred Theron
suddenly out of his revery. It had grown quite dark, and he rose and lit
the gas. "Blest be the Tie that Binds," they were singing. He paused,
with