'It is not exactly in that way that I mean,' she murmured slowly. 'Not from a question of personal bravery at all. I meant...'
She hesitated in embarrassment, and he hastened to remove it.
'Yes—go on.'
'I was wondering whether you ever looked at it from a religious point of view.'
He did not reply at once, and in some way the pause gave a greater gravity to his words.
'Yes, Brenda. You must not think that. Every man has his religion, and I have mine. It may consist in faith more than in works, perhaps, but it is there, nevertheless.'
'But you are half a fatalist.'
'In some degree I am, but I do not go so far as to say that nothing matters. Everything matters! We are intended to do our best, to make the best of our lives; but there is undoubtedly a scheme which is beyond our reach and far above our petty influence or endeavour.'
Brenda was no mean theologist, and she now set to work to demolish Trist's system of fatalism, while half leaning towards it herself. Somewhat to her surprise she found that his knowledge upon certain points was equal to her own, and in some cases superior; his acquaintance with Eastern lore and Oriental creeds was quite beyond her depth.
In this manner they reached the lighthouse, passed a few minutes with its solitary inmate, and set off homewards again across the marsh. Mrs. Wylie would, perhaps, have been surprised could she have overheard their conversation, which was upon very different topics to what she had expected.