ilence of God."

He made no answer and leaned heavily on the back of his chair. A moment
later he began to walk again. "I don't think I _can_ believe that the
heroic sacrifice of youth, their bitter suffering, will be mixed up
indistinguishably with the cunning meanness of pleasure-seekers, with
the sordid humbug of money-makers--in one vast forgotten grave. No, I
can't believe that--because the world we know is a rational world."

May glanced round at him as he moved about. The great dimly-lit room was
full of shadows, and Middleton's face was dark, full of shadows too,
shadows of mental suffering. She looked back at her work and sighed.

"Even if we straighten the crooked ways of life, so that there are no
more starving children, no men and women broken with the struggle of
life: even if we are able, by self-restraint, by greater scientific
knowledge to rid the earth of those diseases that mean martyrdom to its
victims; even if hate is turned to love, and vice and moral misery are
banished: even if the Kingdom of Heaven does come upon this earth--even
then! That will not be a Kingdom of Heaven that is Eternal! This Earth
will, in time, die. This Earth will die, that we know; and with it must
vanish for ever even the memory of a million years of human effort.
Shall we be content with that? I fail to conceive it as rational, and
therefore I cling to the _hope_ of some sort of life beyond the
grave--Eternal Life. But," and here he spoke out emphatically, "I have
no argument for my belief."

He came and stood close beside her now, and looked down at her. "I have
no argument for my belief," he repeated.

"And you are content with the silence of God," he added. Then he spoke
very slowly: "I must be content."

If he had stretched out his hand to touch hers, it would not have meant
any more than did the prolonged gaze of his eyes.

The clock on the mantelpiece ticked--its voice alone striking into the
silence. It seemed to tick sometimes more loudly, sometimes more softly.

The Warden appeared to force himself away from his own thoughts. With
his hands still grasping the back of his chair, he raised his head and
stood upright. The tick of the clock fell upon his ear; a monotonous and
mechanical sound--indifferent to human life and yet weighted with
importance to human life; marking the moments as they passed; moments
never to be recalled; steps that are leading irretrievably the human
race to their far-off destiny.