Mr.Ware carefully deposited an armful of pamphlets on the rug at his feet, and sat down.Litter was indeed the word for what he saw about him.Bookcases, chairs, tables, the corners of the floor, were all buried deep under disorderly strata of papers, diagrams, and opened books.
One could hardly walk about without treading on them.
The dust which danced up into the bar of sunshine streaming in from the window, as the doctor stepped across to another chair, gave Theron new ideas about the value of Chinese servants.
"I must thank you, first of all, doctor," he began, "for your kindness in coming when I was ill.'I was sick, and ye visited me.'""You mustn't think of it that way," said Ledsmar; "your friend came for me, and of course I went; and gladly too.
There was nothing that I could do, or that anybody could do.Very interesting man, that friend of yours.
And his wife, too--both quite out of the common.
I don't know when I've seen two such really genuine people.
I should like to have known more of them.Are they still here?""They went yesterday," Theron replied.His earlier shyness had worn off, and he felt comfortably at his ease.
"I don't know," he went on, "that the word 'genuine'
is just what would have occurred to me to describe the Soulsbys.The, are very interesting people, as you say--MOST interesting--and there was a time, l dare say, when I should have believed in their sincerity.But of course I saw them and their performance from the inside--like one on the stage of a theatre, you know, instead of in the audience, and--well, I understand things better than I used to."The doctor looked over his spectacles at him with a suggestion of inquiry in his glance, and Theron continued:
"I had several long talks with her; she told me very frankly the whole story of her life--and and it was decidedly queer, I can assure you! I may say to you--you will understand what I mean--that since my talk with you, and the books you lent me, I see many things differently.Indeed, when I think upon it sometimes my old state of mind seems quite incredible to me.
I can use no word for my new state short of illumination."Dr.Ledsmar continued to regard his guest with that calm, interrogatory scrutiny of his.He did not seem disposed to take up the great issue of illumination."I suppose,"he said after a little, "no woman can come in contact with a priest for any length of time WITHOUT telling him the 'story of her life,' as you call it.They all do it.
The thing amounts to a law."
The young minister's veins responded with a pleasurable thrill to the use of the word "priest" in obvious allusion to himself."Perhaps in fairness I ought to explain,"he said, "that in her case it was only done in the course of a long talk about myself.I might say that it was by way of kindly warning to me.She saw how Ihad become unsettled in many--many of my former views--and she was nervous lest this should lead me to--to--""To throw up the priesthood," the doctor interposed upon his hesitation."Yes, I know the tribe.Why, my dear sir, your entire profession would have perished from the memory of mankind, if it hadn't been for women.It is a very curious subject.Lots of thinkers have dipped into it, but no one has gone resolutely in with a search-light and exploited the whole thing.Our boys, for instance, traverse in their younger years all the stages of the childhood of the race.They have terrifying dreams of awful monsters and giant animals of which they have never so much as heard in their waking hours; they pass through the lust for digging caves, building fires, sleeping out in the woods, hunting with bows and arrows--all remote ancestral impulses; they play games with stones, marbles, and so on at regular stated periods of the year which they instinctively know, just as they were played in the Bronze Age, and heaven only knows how much earlier.
But the boy goes through all this, and leaves it behind him--so completely that the grown man feels himself more a stranger among boys of his own place who are thinking and doing precisely the things he thought and did a few years before, than he would among Kurds or Esquimaux.
But the woman is totally different.She is infinitely more precocious as a girl.At an age when her slow brother is still stubbing along somewhere in the neolithic period, she has flown way ahead to a kind of mediaeval stage, or dawn of mediaevalism, which is peculiarly her own.
Having got there, she stays there; she dies there.
The boy passes her, as the tortoise did the hare.
He goes on, if he is a philosopher, and lets her remain in the dark ages, where she belongs.If he happens to be a fool, which is customary, he stops and hangs around in her vicinity."Theron smiled."We priests," he said, and paused again to enjoy the words--"I suppose I oughtn't to inquire too closely just where we belong in the procession.""We are considering the question impersonally,"said the doctor."First of all, what you regard as religion is especially calculated to attract women.
They remain as superstitious today, down in the marrow of their bones, as they were ten thousand years ago.
Even the cleverest of them are secretly afraid of omens, and respect auguries.Think of the broadest women you know.One of them will throw salt over her shoulder if she spills it.Another drinks money from her cup by skimming the bubbles in a spoon.Another forecasts her future by the arrangement of tea-grounds.They make the constituency to which an institution based on mysteries, miracles, and the supernatural generally, would naturally appeal.Secondly, there is the personality of the priest.""Yes," assented Ware.There rose up before him, on the instant, the graceful, portly figure and strong, comely face of Father Forbes.
