Later on, Paul realised what an amazing light that threw upon the Sacrament of Penance, but just at present he was too much occupied to consider it. "Father," he said abruptly, "will you forgive me if I ask you one thing? It isn't a usual thing, I know, and it's awfully personal, but I can't help it."
The elder looked into the flushed, serious face of the undergraduater and kept his eyes upon him.
"W-what is it?" he asked.
"Do you believe in the reality of Christ, here and now, on earth? Could you say you know Him?"
"With all my heart," said the priest simply and unhesitatingly.
"Then may I call and see you some time?" asked the boy, with a little catch in his throat.
Father Vassall named a day and time.
(6)
Paul's new friendship soon became the dominant interest of the term for him. Even the prospects of the May eight in which he rowed were less prominent in his mind. His father's letters vigorously denouncing any intercourse with a Papist at all, only aroused his hostility. Of what use was he, if by this time he was not able to defend evangelical religion? Besides, he had rapidly become whole-heartedly aware that there was no sort of question that Father Vassall loved Christ with a sincerity not exceeded by that of his own father. Paul grew ever more certain of that. He wrote as much to Mr. Kestern, but Mr. Kestern would not admit the other's sincerity at all. At best, the priest was a deluded, scheming fanatic out to trap his son. The home letters grew passionate; Paul the more bewildered. Authority and experience were at their first serious conflict within him, though he never phrased it so. Instead he opened his heart to the priest, who was enormously more charitable to the boy's father than Mr. Kestern was to him. And Paul read books, and talked to Dick.
Possibly he reached a spiritual climax as early as that bright midsummer day that the two of them took on the Upper River. They had started in a Canader, and got as far as Haslingfield. They had stripped among the gold of buttercups, and plunged down into the cool, clear water where the mazy reeds twisted this way and that in the slow current. They had lunched, and bathed again, and lying side by side in the sun on the grass, had fixed up in common a good deal of the coming Long Vacation. Then, settling into the canoe, they had drifted slowly down-stream, Dick on his back lazily dipping a paddle now and again to avoid an obstacle, and Paul reading. Now the latter tossed the book down, and spoke.