rd them, to bring an unsympathetic presence into the midst
of their devotion?"

"That I grant," said the doctor.

"But it may be," said the curate, who had come up while they talked,
"that what you, perhaps justifiably, refuse to recognize as irreverence,
has its root in some fault of which you are not yet aware."

"Then I'm not to blame for it," said Faber quietly.

"But you might be terribly the loser by it."

"That is, you mean, if there should be One to whom reverence is due?"

"Yes."

"Would that be fair, then--in an All-wise, that is, toward an ignorant
being?"

"I think not. Therefore I look for something to reveal it to you. But,
although I dare not say you are to blame, because that would be to take
upon myself the office of a judge, which is God's alone, He only being
able to give fair play, I would yet have you search yourself, and see
whether you may not come upon something which keeps you from giving full
and honest attention to what some people, as honest as yourself, think
they see true. I am speaking only from my knowledge of myself, and the
conviction that we are all much alike. What if you should discover that
you do not really and absolutely disbelieve in a God?--that the human
nature is not capable of such a disbelief?--that your unbelief has been
only indifference and irreverence--and that to a Being grander and
nobler and fairer than human heart can conceive?"

"If it be so, let Him punish me," said the doctor gravely.

"If it be so, He will," said the curate solemnly, "--and you will thank
Him for it--after a while. The God of my belief is too good not to make
Himself known to a man who loves what is fair and honest, as you do."

The doctor was silent.

While they were talking thus, two ladies had left the others and now
approached them--Mrs. Wingfold and Miss Meredith. They had heard the
last few sentences, and seeing two clergymen against one infidel,
hastened with the generosity of women to render him what aid they might.

"I am sure Mr. Faber is honest," said Helen.

"That is much to say for any man," returned the curate.

"If any man is, then," adjected Juliet.

"That is a great _If_," rejoined Wingfold."--Are _you_ honest, Helen?"
he added, turning to his wife.

"No," she answered; "but I am honester than I was a year ago."

"So am I," said her husband; "and I hope to be honester yet before
another is over. It's a big thing to say, _I am honest_."

Juliet was silent, a