rough
blood to a world of universal love?

She had lost her way in the confession; and God brooded in silence over
Space and Time, ignoring her, forgetting her. She sank to the ground,
hiding her face in her hands and wondering when she had died. Perhaps
God had waited until Jack Waring was killed, so that he might testify
against her. . . .

"I know it was a lie," she broke out suddenly, "but I _didn't_ realize
what I was doing. The next thing . . . Is this Hell? I always felt I was
going through Hell on earth. That night . . . I didn't see or hear from
Jack for three months; I thought he'd given me up. I was happy for the
first time since I'd met him. Then he followed me into the country and
asked me again if I'd marry him. He said he _was_ a Catholic now. He'd
believed me, he'd done this for me, perjured himself. . . . I remember
saying to myself "If there _is_ a God . . ." I didn't know. . . . "If he
_has_ a soul to lose. . . ." I couldn't undo it. I did what I could for
him, I wrote and said I'd marry him, I swore it by the sign of the
Cross. . . . He went out to the war, he never answered; he's killed now.
. . . I don't know what you're going to do with me. I've _been_
punished. It can't be any satisfaction to you to send me out of my mind.
For a year I've been tortured. Now I was just beginning to forget and to
be happy. I suppose you want to take _that_ away. . . . I _didn't_
realize. . . . Why _shouldn't_ I be happy?"

The dim figure on the throne made no answer, and Barbara began to crawl
forward. Perhaps God had not heard. . . . But she would spend years
crawling through Space. . . .

"I want to get it over. No punishment's as bad as this suspense. _You_
know that. . . . Won't you tell me what I'm to do . . .?"

She crawled forward again, though her knees were aching. Above her
loomed God's foot-stool; and she touched it reverently, then beat upon
it furiously in the hope that God might rise and kill her again . . .
for ever. . . . The sheet of flame marched nearer until it scorched her
eyes. Space and Time shrank and were consumed until she found herself
kneeling upright, staring wildly at the fire and beating with open palms
on the wooden end of the bed.

Barbara fell backwards, pulling the clothes up to her chin.

"Another second . . . and I should have gone mad," she whispered.

Downstairs some one had thrown open a window, some one was playing a
piano. She turned on the light and rang for her ma