e would call her in good time. Almighty God! She was
struck with fear lest she did not believe all that this poor woman
believed. Did she believe that she, Evelyn Innes, would appear at the
final judgment and be assigned a place for ever and ever in either
eternal bliss or torment? She did not know if she believed this. Last
night she was sure she believed, but to-day she did not know.... She did
not know that heaven was as this poor woman imagined it. She asked
herself if she believed in a future life of any sort? She was not sure,
she did not know; she was only sure that whether there be a future life
or none, our obligation to live according to the dictates of our
conscience remains the same. But Monsignor might not deem this
sufficient, and might refuse her absolution. She strove to convince
herself, hurriedly, aware that the moments were fleeting, that she had a
soul. That sense of right and wrong which, like a whip, had driven her
here could be nothing else but the voice of her soul; therefore there
was a soul, and if there was a soul it could not die, and if it did not
die it must go somewhere; therefore there was a heaven and a hell. But
in spite of her desire to convince herself, remembrance of Owen's
arguments whistled like a wind through her pious exhortations, and all
that she had read in Huxley and Darwin and Spencer; the very words came
back thick and distinct, and like one who finds progress impossible in
the face of the gale, she stopped thinking. "We know nothing ... we know
nothing," were the words she heard in the shriek of the wind, and
revealed religion appeared in tattered, miserable plight, a forlorn
spectre borne away on the wind. So distinct was the vision, so explicit
her hearing, that she could not pretend to herself that she was a
Christian in any but a moral sense, and this would not satisfy
Monsignor. Then question after question pealed in her ears. What should
she say when he came? Was it not better for her to leave at once? But
then? She took one step towards the door. However thin and shallow her
belief might be, she must confess her sins. She felt that she must
confess her sins even if she did not believe in confession. Her thoughts
paused, and she was terrified by the mystery which her own existence
presented to herself.

The door opened, and the priest stood looking at her. She could see that
he divined the truth. In the first glance he read that Evelyn had come
to confession, and it