It was impossible not to recall in contrast that other church music he had heard, a month before, and the whole atmosphere of that other pastoral sitting room, from which he had listened to it.  The startled and crowded impressions of that strange evening had been lying hidden in his mind all this while, driven into a corner by the pressure of more ordinary, everyday matters.  They came forth now, and passed across his brain—­no longer confusing and distorted, but in orderly and intelligible sequence.  Their earlier effect had been one of frightened fascination.  Now he looked them over calmly as they lifted themselves, one by one, and found himself not shrinking at all, or evading anything, but dwelling upon each in turn as a natural and welcome part of the most important experience of his life.

The young minister had arrived, all at once, at this conclusion.  He did not question at all the means by which he had reached it.  Nothing was clearer to his mind than the conclusion itself—­that his meeting, with the priest and the doctor was the turning-point in his career.  They had lifted him bodily out of the slough of ignorance, of contact with low minds and sordid, narrow things, and put him on solid ground.  This book he had been reading—­this gentle, tender, lovable book, which had as much true piety in it as any devotional book he had ever read, and yet, unlike all devotional books, put its foot firmly upon everything which could not be proved in human reason to be true—­must be merely one of a thousand which men like Father Forbes and Dr. Ledsmar knew by heart.  The very thought that he was on the way now to know them, too, made Theron tremble.  The prospect wooed him, and he thrilled in response, with the wistful and delicate eagerness of a young lover.

Somehow, the fact that the priest and the doctor were not religious men, and that this book which had so impressed and stirred him was nothing more than Renan’s recital of how he, too, ceased to be a religious man, did not take a form which Theron could look square in the face.  It wore the shape, instead, of a vague premise that there were a great many different kinds of religions—­the past and dead races had multiplied these in their time literally into thousands—­and that each no doubt had its central support of truth somewhere for the good men who were in it, and that to call one of these divine and condemn all the others was a part fit only for untutored bigots.  Renan had formally repudiated Catholicism, yet could write in his old age with the deepest filial affection of the Mother Church he had quitted.  Father Forbes could talk coolly about the “Christ-myth” without even ceasing to be a priest, and apparently a very active and devoted priest.  Evidently there was an intellectual world, a world of culture and grace, of lofty thoughts and the inspiring communion of real knowledge, where creeds were not of importance, and where men asked one another, not “Is your soul saved?” but “Is your mind well furnished?” Theron had the sensation of having been invited to become a citizen of this world.  The thought so dazzled him that his impulses were dragging him forward to take the new oath of allegiance before he had had time to reflect upon what it was he was abandoning.