in everything--in his projected book about
the raiders faring forth from the island castles, and now in the source
of the Christian River; and he began to meditate a destructive criticism
of Mr. Poole's ideas in a letter addressed to the editor of _Illustrated
England_, losing heart suddenly, he knew not why, feeling the task to be
beyond him. Perhaps it would be better not to write to Nora again.

_From Father Oliver Gogarty to Miss Nora Glynn._

'GARRANARD, BOHOLA,

'_August_ 22, 19--.

'DEAR MISS GLYNN,

'I gather from your letter that religion has ceased to interest you,
except as a subject for argument, and I will not begin to argue with
you, but will put instead a simple question to you: In what faith do you
intend to bring up your child? and what will be your answer when your
child asks: "Who made me?" Mr. Poole may be a learned man, but all the
learning in the world will not tell you what answer to make to your
child's questions; only the Church can do that.

'I have thought a great deal about the danger that your post of
secretary to Mr. Poole involves and am not sure that the state of
indifference is not the worst state of all. One day you will find that
indifference has passed into unbelief, and you will write to me (if we
continue to write to each other) in such a way that I shall understand
that you have come to regard our holy religion as a tale fit only for
childhood's ears. I write this to you, because I have been suddenly
impelled to write, and it seems to me that in writing to you in this
simple way I am doing better than if I spent hours in argument. You will
not always think as you do now; the world will not always interest you
as much as it does now. I will say no more on this point but will break
off abruptly to tell you that I think you are right when you say that we
all want change. I feel I have lived too long by the side of this lake,
and I am thinking of going to London....'

The room darkened gradually, and, going to the window, he longed for
something to break the silence, and was glad when the rain pattered
among the leaves. The trees stood stark against the sky, in a green that
seemed unnatural. The sheep moved as if in fear towards the sycamores,
and from all sides came the lowing of cattle. A flash drove him back
from the window. He thought he was blinded. The thunder rattled; it was
as if a God had taken the mountains in his arms and was shaking them
together. Crash follow