a feeling that his burden had been
lifted from him that Father Oliver rose from his knees, and, subdued in
body and mind, stood looking through the room, conscious of the green
grass showing through his window, lighted by a last ray of the setting
sun. It was the wanness of this light that put the thought into his mind
that it would soon be time to send round to the stables for his
visitor's car. His visitor! That small, frail man sitting in his
armchair would soon be gone, carrying with him this, Father Oliver's,
confession. What had he confessed? Already he had forgotten, and both
men stood face to face thinking of words wherewith they might break the
silence.

'I do not know,' Father O'Grady said, 'that I altogether share your fear
that an anti-Christian atmosphere necessarily implies that the Catholic
who comes into it will lose her faith, else faith would not be a pure
gift from God. God doesn't overload his creatures unbearably, nor does
he put any stress upon them from which they cannot extricate themselves.
I could cite many instances of men and women whose faith has been
strengthened by hostile criticism; the very arguments that have been
urged against their faith have forced them to discover other arguments,
and in this way they have been strengthened in their Catholic
convictions.' And to Father Oliver's question if he discerned any other
influence except an intellectual influence in Mr. Poole, he answered
that he had not considered this side of the question.

'I don't know what manner of man he is in his body,' said Father Oliver,
'but his mind is more dangerous. An intellectual influence is always
more dangerous than a sensual influence, and the sins of faith are worse
than the sins of the flesh. I never thought of him as a possible
seducer. But there may be that danger too. I still think, Father
O'Grady, that you might have warned Nora of her danger. Forgive me; I'm
sure you did all that was necessary. You do forgive me?'

The men's eyes met, and Father O'Grady said, as if he wished to change
the subject:

'You were born at Tinnick, were you not?'

'Yes, I was born in Tinnick,' Father Oliver repeated mechanically,
almost as if he had not heard the question.

'And your sisters are nuns?'

'Yes, yes.'

'Tell me how it all came about.'

'How all what came about?' Father Oliver asked, for he was a little
dazed and troubled in his mind, and was, therefore, easily led to relate
the story of the shop