ficulties," said Monsignor, as he rose from his chair, "appear
to you very serious. You are overcome by their importance because you
have not adequately realised the awfulness of your state in the sight of
God. If you were to die now, your soul would be lost. Once you have
grasped this central fact in its full significance, the rest will seem
easy. I will lend you a book which I think will help you."

"But, Monsignor, are you going to refuse me your absolution?"

"My dear child, you are in doubt regarding the essential doctrine of the
resurrection, and you are unable to promise me not to see one of the men
who have been to you a cause of sin."

Her clear, nervous vision met the dry, narrow vision that was the
priest, and there was a pause in the conflict of their wills. He saw
that his penitent was moved to the depth of her being, and had lost
control of herself. He feared to send her away without absolution, yet
he felt that she must be forced into submission--she must accept the
entire doctrine of the Church. He could not understand, and therefore
could not sympathise with her hesitation on points of doctrine. If the
penitent accepted the Church as the true Church, conscience was laid
aside for doctrine. The value of the Church was that it relieved the
individual of the responsibility of life. So it was by an effort of will
that he retained his patience. He was determined to reduce her to his
mind, but he was instinctively aware of the danger of refusing her
absolution; to do so might fling her back upon agnosticism. He was
contending with vast passions. An unexpected wave might carry her beyond
his reach. The stakes were high; he was playing for her soul with Owen
Asher. He had decided to yield a point if necessary, but his voice was
so kind, so irresistibly kind, that she heard nothing but it. However
she might think when she had left him, she could not withstand the
kindness of that voice; it seemed to enter into her life like some
extraordinary music or perfume. He could see the effect he was producing
on her; he watched her eyes growing bright until a slight dread crossed
his mind. She seemed like one fascinated, trembling in bonds that were
loosening, and that in the next moment would break, leaving her
free--perhaps to throw herself into his arms; he did not dare to
withdraw his eyes. An awful moment passed, and she turned slowly as if
to leave the room. But at the moment of so doing a light seemed to break
u