former theory of
its cause. It was as Reed had said. Indeed, it had been a constant
marvel to Brenton, all those summer months, how much more clearly Reed,
flat on his back inside four walls, did see things than the rest of
them. Reed had told a truth as undeniable as it was unpalatable: that
all of Brenton's adulation came, not from his priestly fervour, but
from such personal details as eyes and hair and vibrant vocal cords. As
for sincerity--Had he ever been sincere, in any of his preaching? Had
any word of his, measured by the simple tenets of his creed, ever in
reality rung true? Could he ever, knowing of a surety what he did, ever
attain sincerity, so long as he remained the priest? He doubted.

This time, his doubts took hold of him. Indeed, it is a far more
unsettling process to doubt one's self than it is to doubt the ultimate
truths of a wholly impersonal system of salvation. For the next few
weeks, Brenton shunned his fellow men almost completely, while he took
his doubtings far afield and wrestled with them there. Moreover,
despite the doctor's tonic and the ozone of the autumn-tinctured air,
Brenton came in from tramping over the mountains, or up and down the
valley, weary in mind, distressed in soul. He yearned acutely, in these
weeks, for contact with his kind: for Professor Opdyke and the sturdy
doctor, for Reed, for Olive whose clear eyes always saw the soul
beneath the aura. Nevertheless, he kept away from them all absolutely.
This was a matter he must settle with himself alone, a battle to be
fought out in silence and with himself as sole antagonist. A ring of
commenting spectators, applauding while they looked on, could only
blunt the point of his attacks which, to be final, must be swift and
sure.

It was a curious commentary upon Scott Brenton's domestic life that,
shrinking as he did from contact with his kind, he yet felt no wish to
withdraw himself from Kathryn. The statement of the fact contains its
explanation. Kathryn was his wedded wife; he loved her. Nevertheless,
she was not of his kind, nor ever had been. Such crises as his present
one would have been incomprehensible to her. Therefore, Scott faced it,
with Kathryn at his side.

Now and then, though, over their morning coffee, Scott had a wayward
longing to open the day's arena to her, to force her to look in upon
the fight he waged. Then he gave up the idea disdainfully. As well try
to leave his hand-print on an iron bar or a gray gra