Sir George, you are; everybody is at first. Even I was,
because it has been so horribly misrepresented by people who really know
nothing about it. For instance, I have myself heard it said that it was
only a kind of spiritualism. On the contrary, it is very much opposed to
it, and has quite convinced me for one of the wickedness and danger of
spiritualism."

"Well, that is so much to its credit," Atherley generously acknowledged.

"And then, people said it was very immoral. Far from that; it has a very
high ethical standard indeed--a very moral aim. One of its chief objects
is to establish a universal brotherhood amongst men of all nations and
sects."

"A what?" asked Atherley.

"A universal brotherhood."

"My dear Mrs. Molyneux, you don't mean to seriously offer that as a
novelty. I never heard anything so hackneyed in my life. Why, it has
been preached _ad nauseam_ for centuries!"

"By the Christian Church, I suppose you mean. And pray how have they
practised their preaching?"

"Oh, but excuse me; that is not the question. If your religion is as
brand-new as you gave me to understand, there has been no time for
practice. It must be all theory, and I hoped I was going to hear
something original."

"Oh really, Sir George, you are quite too naughty. How can I explain
things if you are so flippant and impatient? In one sense, it is a very
old religion; it is the truth which is in all religions, and some of its
interesting doctrines were taught ages before Christianity was ever
heard of, and proved, too, by miracles far far more wonderful than any
in the New Testament. However, it is no good talking to you about that;
what I really wanted you to understand is how infinitely superior it is
to all other religions in its theological teaching. You know, Sir
George, you are always finding fault with all the Christian
Churches--and even with the Mahommedans too, for that matter--because
they are so anthropomorphic, because they imply that God is a personal
being. Very well, then, you cannot say that about this religion,
because--this is what is so remarkable and elevated about it--it has
nothing to do with God at all."

"Nothing to do with what did you say?" asked Lady Atherley, diverted by
this last remark from a long row of loops upon an ivory needle which she
appeared to be counting.

"Nothing to do with God."

"Do you know, Lucinda," said Lady Atherley, "if you would not mind, I
fancy the coffee is just coming