"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.