it was that latter word which Brenton was using, as a
spiritual flail, upon himself. Reed Opdyke's overthrow no longer filled
the whole horizon of his doubtings. It was merely the starting-point
whence he had embarked on a voyage long and perilous. At first, he only
had felt a vague suspicion concerning the inherent justice and clemency
of the manifestations of special Providence, a little wondering whether
the God whom he had chosen to preach to all men was of necessity so
much more merciful and fatherly in his dealing with the sons of men
than was the irate God of all the line of Parson Wheelers. They would
have laid down the law quite frankly that Reed Opdyke had been
overtaken and cut down, in revenge for his more or less hereditary
sins. He was holding forth to the effect that Reed had been smitten
sorely, regretfully, in order that his spiritual betterment be effected
with all due promptness, and with all due attention from his fellow
men. To how much, after all, did the difference amount?

Sunday after Sunday during those interminable eight months when Reed
had lain still and gritted his teeth to keep himself from waxing too
profane, he himself, Scott Brenton, robed in the stainless garb of his
holy calling, had stood up before his people and stained his conscience
by uttering platitudes to that effect. Then, sermon over and the
service, he had gone away and lavished upon Reed Opdyke a purely human
sympathy that was totally unlike the exalted pity of the priest. In
other words, as concerned Reed Opdyke, Brenton's attitude was
two-faced, human, priestly; two-faced, and the two faces were mutually
antagonistic.

Worst of all, the doubtings did not focus themselves upon the solitary
instance. They spread and spread, until they honeycombed his entire
belief. Was God sometimes a little bit vindictive? Did the All-merciful
have moods that would have shamed created man? Did the All-Father now
and then punish, out of sheer malevolence, or in an attempt to get even
with man for the results of instincts He had put into him at first
creation? Was that first creation final in its wisdom; or had it been a
partial blunder, needing the interference of a heaven-sent, earth-born
Intercessor to set the matter right? Could the All-Wise make a blunder?
If not, then why the Atoning Son? In short, aside from some mysterious
force which had set certain laws to rolling like mammoth, ever-growing
snowballs down the slopes of time and o