aid the
world would have perished long since!

When she had gone, Evelyn sat thinking, her head leaned on her hand, her
eyes fixed on the distant garden, seeing life from afar, strange and
distant, like reflections in still waters. She could see distant figures
in St. Peter's walk, tending the crosses and the statues of the Virgin
placed in nooks, or hanging on the branches. Some four or five nuns were
playing at ball on the terrace, and in the plaintive autumn afternoon,
there was something extraordinarily touching in their simple amusement;
and she had, perforce, to feel how much wiser was their childishness
than the vanity of the world.

Ulick had said that their adventure was the same, only their ways were
different. He had said that he sought God in art, while she sought him
in dogma. But if she accepted dogma, it was only as a cripple accepts a
crutch, Catholicism was essential to her, without it she could not walk;
but while conforming to dogma, it seemed possible to transcend its
narrowness, and to attach to every petty belief a spiritual
significance. It is right that we should acquiesce in these beliefs, for
they are the symbols by which the faith was kept alive and handed down.
God leads us by different ways, and though we may prefer to worship God
in the open air, we should not despise him who builds a house for
worship. The Real Being is all that we are sure of, for He is in our
hearts, the rest is as little shadows. Ulick had quoted an Eastern
mystic--'He that sees himself sees God, and in him there is neither I
nor thou.'

And, reflecting on the significance of these words, she turned with
pensive fingers the leaves of _The Way of Perfection_.

But she was going back to London on Monday! In London she would meet
Owen and all her former life. She knew in a way how she was going to
escape him. But her former life was everywhere. She got up and walked
about the room, then she stood at the window, her hands held behind her
back. She was sorely tried, and felt so weak in spirit that she was
tempted, or fancied that she was tempted, to go away with Owen in the
_Medusa_. Or she might tell him that she would marry him, and so end the
whole matter. But she knew that she would do neither of these things.
She knew that she would sacrifice Owen and her career as an opera singer
so that she might lead a chaste life. Yet a life of prayer and chastity
was not natural to her; her natural preferences were for lovers