Silence.
The priest spoke again. "I don't know," he said. "I can't stick my fingers into your soul. I d-d-don't want to. Only God's been good to you, you know. And—and He's a j-j-jealous God."
"Oh, I don't know," burst out the boy. "Father, I don't know. There's so much for and against. And I've prayed and prayed and prayed, and—and God hides Himself."
"He's given you all the l-l-light you need. He's shown you! He's sent His Son and appointed His Church and p-p-put it b-b-bang in your p-path. What else do you want? Do you want a special r-r-revelation?"
"Oh, I don't know," wailed Paul. "I don't KNOW."
His voice broke a little. Father Vassall dropped his knees and jumped up, catching his robe about him. His eyes shone, though his face was grave. "L-look here," he said. "Here's a bit of paper. I'll put here all the things that make for the Church, unless you feel honestly, in your own mind, that the balance of evidence on a point puts it on the other side. Now."
When the paper was written it appeared thus:
WHICH is TRUE?
R.C. Anglican.
Emotions in Catholic Church. Emotions at Claxted, Keswick,
etc.
Reason?
History?
Which Works?
Scripture?
Tradition?
Catholic Idea?
Consistency?
Gospel of the Poor?
Beauty?
Common sense?
Miracles?
Peter?