“You will know presently, when I have broken you.”
Colin clenched his hands tight, still utterly steadfast and untamed.
“Don’t imagine you’ll do that,” he said. “If that’s what you expect, you’re wasting your time.”
Again the silence of eternity fell.
“Do you believe in God, Colin Stanier?” said the voice.
“Yes,” said he. “You know that.”
“And do you hate God with all your heart?”
“Yes,” said Colin.
The figure receded a little. Perhaps, he thought, now that he had made his final and complete repudiation, which surely included all else, the torture was over, for the cruel wrench of that repeated question came no more, and he sank back utterly exhausted on his straw-bed, and sleep, or some such anodyne to sensation, came over him. Then once more he came to himself, alert and wholly awake.
Outside the mist had cleared, and he could see through the empty door-space the pasture covered with thick dew, and a few scattered sheep with their lambs beside them. It must be close on dawn, for in the east there was a long line of cloud, flushed red with the sun that had not yet risen on the earth. For the moment, with a pang of exquisite relief, he thought he was alone, and that the inquisition of the night was over. But how terribly real a dream could be! Dennis had known that when he woke from his nightmare, and threw himself into his father’s arms for protection. And this dream, even though now he was awake, had still that quality of eternity about it.