in order to preserve it, to teach it, to
keep it for men. That is not putting any man or institution between
Himself and His creatures. Would you call the hand which drags you
over a danger an interference with your liberty? Liberty, my dear
Mark, is not the right to be blind, but the privilege of seeing. The
light that shows things to your eyes is not an interference between
those things and your eyes. The road you take to your destination is
not an obstacle to your reaching it."

The priest was silent for a moment, but Mark knew that he had not quite
finished.

"The rich young man of the Scriptures went to Christ and asked what he
should do to be saved. He got his answer. Was Christ in his way? Was
the answer a restraint upon his liberty?"

"No," answered Mark, breaking in, "it was not a restraint upon his
liberty. But you say that Christ is God, so the young man had nothing
between himself and his God."

"Oh, yes, he had," said the priest. "He had the command or counsel
that Christ gave him. It was against the command or counsel that he
rebelled. Now have not I, and you, and all the world, the same right
to get an answer as that young man had? Since we are all equal in the
sight of God, and since Christ came for all men, have we not the right
to an answer now as clear as His was then?"

"It seems logical," admitted Mark.

"Then," said Father Murray, "the unerring Voice must still be here.
Where is it?"

"Yes," retorted Mark, "that is my cry. Where is it? I think it's the
cry of many other men. What is the answer?"

"It is the thing that you threw over--or believed you had thrown
over--and that you can't get away from thinking about. It waits to
answer you."

A silence settled between the two men. It lasted for over a minute.
Finally Mark broke it.

"You told me, Father," he said, "that what I called 'Mrs. O'Leary's
philosophy' was religion. I now know better what you meant, for I have
been gossiping about you. The best point you make is--yourself. I
know what you have been, what you have done, and how sadly you have
suffered. Doesn't your religion demand too much--resignation? Does a
God of Justice demand that we tamely submit to injustice? I am not
saying this to be personal, or to pain you, but everyone seems to
wonder at your resignation to injustice. Why should such a fault be in
the Church you think so perfect?"

The priest looked at Mark with kindly and almost merry eyes