"But what can the vicar do, Douglas? You know how dull the people are?"
"They are children, more or less stupid," said Montrose with conviction, "and can grasp very little. Since Mr. Sparrow teaches them to love God and love their neighbour, he is doing all that he can do. But he could colour the greyness of his sermon: he could speak in parables as the Master did. Then he would arrest their attention, and some ideas, if put picturesquely, would stick in their minds. A man will forget a series of admonitions if stated baldly: he will certainly remember some if connected with a story."
"Perhaps," said Alice doubtfully. "But Mr. Sparrow is a really good man."
"Isn't that rather irrelevant?" observed the young man dryly. "I quite admit that he is a good man. It is not his fault that the Church has lost her esoteric knowledge, which was reserved for the intellectual, who wished to believe with the head as well as with the heart. But he is only a sample of many parsons. His intentions are of the best, but he does not speak with conviction to my mind."
"He is a true believer," urged the girl, rather distressed.
"I am sure he is everything that is genuine and kind," replied her lover, a trifle impatiently. "But he lacks that wisdom which comes from logical reasoning on the things he discourses about."
"But can religion be proved logically?"
"Certainly; but only when one knows the esoteric teaching which the Church had, but which the Church has lost. Eberstein has taught much of it to me during the last three years, and there are few questions connected with religion and the Bible which I cannot answer in at least a reasonable way. Go to Mr. Sparrow and he will assure you that half the questions you ask are a mystery into which you must not pry. What is the result, Alice?"
"I'm sure I can't say," she answered good-humouredly.