would regard my becoming an Episcopalian.
I am really persuaded that its form of worship, translating as it does so
_much_ of the spiritual verity of life into visible symbols, is a form
better calculated than the Presbyterian to appeal to the great throbbing
heart of humanity. I hope I may even say, without offense, sir, that it
affords a wider scope, a broader sweep, a more stimulating field of
endeavour, to one who may have a capacity for the life of larger aspects.
In short, sir, I believe there is a great future for me in that church."

"I shouldn't wonder if there was," answered the old man, who had studied
his face closely during the speech. Yet he spoke with an extreme dryness
of tone that made the other look quickly up.

"It shall be as you wish," he continued, after a meditative pause--"I
believe you are better calculated for that church than for mine. Obey your
call."

CHAPTER VI

IN THE FOLLY OF HIS YOUTH

At early twilight Bernal, sore at heart for the pain he had been obliged
to cause the old man, went to the study-door for a last word with him.

"I believe there is no one above whose forgiveness I need, sir--but I
shall always be grieved if I can't have yours. I _do_ need that."

The old man had stood by the open door as if meaning to cut short the
interview.

"You have it. I forgive you any hurt you have done me; it was due quite as
much to my limitations as to yours. For that other forgiveness, which you
will one day know is more than mine--I--I shall always pray for that."

He stopped, and the other waited awkwardly, his heart rushing out in
ineffectual flood against the old man's barrier of stern restraint. For a
moment he made folds in his soft hat with a fastidious precision. Finally
he nerved himself to say calmly:

"I thank you, sir, for all you have done--all you have ever done for me
and for Allan--and, good-bye!"

"Good-bye!"

Though there was no hint of unkindness in the old man's voice, something
formal in his manner had restrained the other from offering his hand.
Still loath to go without it, he said again more warmly:

"Good-bye, sir!"

"Good-bye!"

This time he turned and went slowly down the dim hall, still making the
careful folds in his hat, as if he might presently recall something that
would take him back. At the foot of the stairs he stopped quickly to
listen, believing he had heard a call from above; but nothing came and he
went out. Still in the door ups