d himself sat down too. "It is an end of everything," said the
other again in a perfectly steady voice. "I believe nothing. I have
believed nothing for a year now."

"You have felt nothing, you mean," said Percy.

"That won't do, father," went on the other. "I tell you there is nothing
left. I can't even argue now. It is just good-bye."

Percy had nothing to say. He had talked to this man during a period of
over eight months, ever since Father Francis had first confided in him
that his faith was going. He understood perfectly what a strain it had
been; he felt bitterly compassionate towards this poor creature who had
become caught up somehow into the dizzy triumphant whirl of the New
Humanity. External facts were horribly strong just now; and faith,
except to one who had learned that Will and Grace were all and emotion
nothing, was as a child crawling about in the midst of some huge
machinery: it might survive or it might not; but it required nerves of
steel to keep steady. It was hard to know where blame could be assigned;
yet Percy's faith told him that there was blame due. In the ages of
faith a very inadequate grasp of religion would pass muster; in these
searching days none but the humble and the pure could stand the test for
long, unless indeed they were protected by a miracle of ignorance. The
alliance of Psychology and Materialism did indeed seem, looked at from
one angle, to account for everything; it needed a robust supernatural
perception to understand their practical inadequacy. And as regards
Father Francis's personal responsibility, he could not help feeling that
the other had allowed ceremonial to play too great a part in his
religion, and prayer too little. In him the external had absorbed the
internal.

So he did not allow his sympathy to show itself in his bright eyes.

"You think it my fault, of course," said the other sharply.

"My dear father," said Percy, motionless in his chair, "I know it is
your fault. Listen to me. You say Christianity is absurd and impossible.
Now, you know, it cannot be that! It may be untrue--I am not speaking of
that now, even though I am perfectly certain that it is absolutely
true--but it cannot be absurd so long as educated and virtuous people
continue to hold it. To say that it is absurd is simple pride; it is to
dismiss all who believe in it as not merely mistaken, but unintelligent
as well---"

"Very well, then," interrupted the other; "then suppose I withdraw