ymen read these books, Hodder found it
impossible to overcome a nervous sense of adventure,--nay (knowing his
resolution), of apostasy, almost of clandestine guilt when he mentioned
them. And it seemed to him that the face of the clerk betrayed surprise.
One of the works was not in stock; he would send the others that
afternoon. Mr. Hodder would take them? They made a formidable parcel,
but a little handle was supplied and the rector hurried out, swinging
himself on a Tower Street car.

It must not be thought that the whole of what is called modern criticism
was new to Hodder. This would indeed be too much of a reflection on
the open-mindedness of the seminary from which he had graduated. But
he found himself, now, pondering a little cynically on that
"open-mindedness"; on that concession--if it had been a concession--to
the methods of science. There had been in truth a course of lectures on
this subject; but he saw now, very clearly, what a concerted effort had
been put forward in the rest of the teaching to minimize and discredit
it. Even the professor who gave the lectures had had the air of
deploring them. Here it is, but on the whole one would better let it
alone,--such was the inference. And he had let it alone, through all
these years.

In the seminary, too, volumes by semi-learned clergymen had been thrust
into his hands, efforts which Hodder recalled now, in spite of his
mental state, with a smile. These invariably championed the doctrine
of the virgin birth as the pillar on which the Incarnation depended. A
favourite argument declared that although the Gospel texts in regard
to it might be proven untrustworthy, the miraculous birth must have
happened anyway! And one of these clerical authors whom he had more
recently read, actually had had the audacity to turn the weapons of
the archenemy, science, back upon itself. The virgin birth was an
established fact in nature, and had its place in the social economy of
the bee. And did not parthenogenesis occur in the silk moth?

In brief, the conclusion impressed upon him by his seminary instruction
was this: that historical criticism had corrected some ideas and put
some things in their right place. What these things were remained
sufficiently vague. But whenever it attacked a cherished dogma it was,
on general principles, wrong.

Once again in his cool study, he cut the cord with a trembling hand, and
while he was eating the lunch his housekeeper had prepared, di