He bent his head.  He could find no words with which to interrupt her.

“Well, I have often thought of it since,—­and I have longed—­oh, so much!—­to make a confession to you!  But may I ask you one or two questions first?”

His dry lips moved—­and he whispered, rather than spoke—­

“You may!  But are you not distressing yourself about matters which—­ which perhaps—­could wait—–?”

Her blue eyes regarded him with a wonderful courage.

“Dear Mr. Walden, I don’t think I ought to wait,”—­she said, very earnestly—­“Because really no one has ever done anything for me in a religious sense,—­and if I am to die, you are the only person in the world who can help me.”

He tried to rouse his wandering, ebbing energies.

“I will do my best,”—­he said, slowly—­“My best, I mean, to answer your questions.”

“You will?—­As a clergyman, as a friend and an honest man?—­yes, I felt sure you would!” And she spoke with almost passionate eagerness—­“I will put you through your catechism, and you shall, if you like, put me through mine!  Now to begin with,—­though it seems a strange thing to ask a clergyman-do you really believe in God?”

He started,—­wakened from his trance of mind by sheer amazement.

“Do I really believe in God?  With all my soul, with all my heart, I believe in Him!”

“Many clergymen don’t,”—­said Maryllia, gravely studying his face,—­ “That is why I asked.  You mustn’t mind!  You see I have met a great many Churchmen who preach what they do not practise, and it has rather worried me.  Because, of course, if they really believed in God they would he careful not to do things which their faith forbids them to do.”

He was silent.

“My next question is just as audacious as my first,”—­she went on after a pause—­“It is this—­do you believe in Christ?”

He rose from his chair and stood tenderly looking down upon her.  His old authoritative energy inspired him,—­he had now recovered himself sufficiently to be able to trample down his own clamorous personal emotions for the time and to think only of his spiritual duty.

“I believe in Him as the one Divine Man ever born!” he said.

“Is that quite sufficient for orthodoxy?” And she looked up at him with a half smile.

“Perhaps not!  But I fear orthodoxy and I are scarcely the best of friends!” he replied—­“Must I really tell you my own private form of belief?”

“Ah yes!—­please do so!” she answered gently—­“It will help me so much!”

He paused a moment.  Then he said—­

“I believe this,—­that Christ was born into the world as a Sign and Symbol of the life, death and destined immortality of each individual human soul.  Into the mystery of His birth I do not presume to penetrate.  But I see Him as He lived,—­the embodiment of Truth—­crucified!  I see Him dead,—­rising from the grave to take upon Himself eternal life.  I accept Him as the true manifestation of the possible Divine in Man—­for no man before or after Him has had such influence upon the human race.  And I am convinced that the faithful following of His Gospel ensures peace in this world, and joy in the world to come!”