suggested was not borne out; he seemed unable to take that special
interest in her which she desired; her confessions were barren of
spiritual adventure, and after some hesitations her choice dropped upon
Father Railston. In this selection the law of contrast played an
important part. The men were very opposites. One walked erect and tall,
with measured gait; the other walked according to the impulse of the
moment, wearing his biretta either on one side of the head or the
other. One was reserved; the other voluble in speech. One was of
handsome and regular features; the other's face was plain but
expressive. Evelyn had grown interested in Father Railston's dark,
melancholy eyes; and his voice was a human voice vibrant with the terror
and suffering of life. In listening to her sins he seemed to remember
his own. She had accused herself of impatience at the circumstances
which kept her at home, of even nourishing, she would not say projects,
but thoughts, of escape.

"Then, my child, are you so anxious to change your present life for that
of the stage?"

"Yes, Father."

"You weary of the simplicity of your present life, and sigh for the
brilliancy of the stage?"

"I'm afraid I do." It was thrilling to admit so much, especially as the
life of an actress was not in itself sinful. "I feel that I should die
very soon if I were to hear I should never leave Dulwich."

The priest did not speak for a long while, and raising her eyes she
watched his expression. It seemed to her that her confession of her
desire of the world had recalled memories, and she wondered what were
they.

"I am more than forty--I'm nearly fifty--and my life has passed like a
dream."

He seemed about to tell her the secret of life, and had stopped. But the
phrase lingered through her whole life, and eventually became part of
it. "My life has passed like a dream." She did not remember what he had
said after, and she had gone away wondering if life seemed to everyone
like a dream when they were forty, and if his life would have seemed
more real to him if he had given it to the world instead of to God? Her
subsequent confessions seemed trite and commonplace. Not that Father
Railston failed to listen with kind interest to her; not that he failed
to divine that she was passing through a physical and spiritual crisis.
His admonitions were comforting in her weariness of mind and body; but
notwithstanding her affection for him, she felt that beyond that on