Mr. Wycherly turned to look at Miss Esperance, and fresh as he was from his vision of a woman in all the radiance of her first youth and beauty, he agreed with Montagu that there is a very beautiful oldness, and that such beauty is to the understanding heart perhaps most fair of all. She held out her hands in her eagerness, and leant forward, straining her eyes to read his face in the shadow. "You are far more fit to deal with such subjects than I," he said hesitatingly, "but since you have done me the honour to consult me—if I might venture, I would suggest that for a boy of Montagu’s temperament much dogmatic teaching is a mistake. In childhood we can only realise the Infinite through the finite. Some of us in that respect never get beyond childhood; I, myself, somewhat resemble Montagu, and therefore I think it might be better to defer the—er—Shorter Catechism until he is older and more able to grapple with—" Mr. Wycherly seemed to swallow something in his throat, and the lines round his eyes deepened "its—er—theology." "No," said Miss Esperance firmly, "he must learn his catechism whether he understands it or not." "Well, don’t be disappointed if he doesn’t understand it, dear Miss Esperance. I don’t, but then I never read it until the other day." There was an ominous silence for a minute. He and Miss Esperance had seldom before touched upon any religious question. Now she sighed and said sadly: "I thought perhaps you would be able to help me, but your advice has been that, having put my hand to the plough, I should turn back, and that I cannot do. I wish," she continued timidly, "that should a suitable opportunity arise, you could see your way to speak to Montagu. You have such great influence over him, anything that you say would have so much weight. Don’t you think that you could?" "I cannot promise," he answered nervously; "should a suitable opportunity arise, perhaps I might, but I cannot promise. I confess that I should have the greatest difficulty in approaching these subjects in cold blood, and I question very much whether it would be wise on my part. I have always and purposely avoided anything that bore upon religious instruction in my dealings with Montagu because—well, you know, my dear Miss Esperance, that your good minister, Mr. Gloag, considers me lamentably latitudinarian in these matters, my whole training, my whole mental outlook, is so opposed—" Again Mr. Wycherly stopped, helplessly clasping and unclasping his long, thin hands. Miss Esperance regarded him sadly, then sighed, saying gently, "I can only leave the issue in wiser hands than ours." "And there," said Mr. Wycherly, reverently, "it will be perfectly safe." Miss Esperance rose, and as he opened the door for her he held out his hand, saying humbly: "You must try not to be angry with me: it is pure incapacity, not wilfulness, that renders me so useless as an adviser."