de him
so. Heaven alone did that. God himself made our Pontiff of the Holy
Catholic Church superior even to the angels; and if it were possible
for them to believe contrary to the faith, he could judge them and lay
the ban of excommunication upon them."

Jose's eyes widened while his friend talked. Was he losing his own
senses? Or was it true, as his lamented father had said, that he had
been cast under the spell of the devil's wiles? Had he been
foreordained to destruction by his own heretical thought? For, if what
he heard in Rome was truth, then was he damned, irrevocably!

"Come," said his friend, taking his arm; "let us go to the library and
read the _Credo_ of the Holy Father, Pius the Fourth, wherein is set
forth in detail the doctrinal system of our beloved Church. And let me
urge you, my dear young friend, to accept it, unreservedly, and be at
peace, else will your life be a ceaseless torment."

Oh, that he could have done so! That he could have joined those
thousands of faithful, loyal adherents to Holy Church, who find in its
doctrines naught that stimulates a doubt, nor urges against the divine
institution of its gorgeous, material fabric!

But, vain desire! "I cannot! I cannot!" he wailed in the dark hours of
night upon his bed. "I cannot love a God who has to be prayed to by
Saints and Virgin, and persuaded by them not to damn His own children!
I cannot believe that the Pope, a mere human being, can canonize
Saints and make spiritual beings who grant the prayers of men and
intercede with God for them! Yes, I know there are multitudes of good
people who believe and accept the doctrines of the Church. But, alas!
I am not one of them, nor can be."

For, we repeat, the little Jose was morbidly honest. And this gave
rise to fear, a corroding fear that he might not do right by his
God, his mother, and himself, the three variants in his complex
life-equation. His self-condemnation increased; yet his doubts
kept pace with it. He more than ever distrusted his own powers after
his first four years in the seminary. He more than ever lacked
self-confidence. He was more than ever vacillating, hesitant, and
infirm of purpose. He even at times, when under the pall of
melancholia, wondered if he had really loved his deceased father,
and whether it was real grief which he felt at his parent's demise.
Often, too, when fear and doubt pressed heavily, and his companions
avoided him because of the aura of gloom in which