The priest watched him in silence. Then he rose and felt for a cigarette. "You do know it," he said. "What you don't know is whether you dare do it." "My father says I'm too young to make such a decision. He wanted me to go and see Prebendary----" Father Vassall interrupted him. "See no one," he said. "Don't see me if you like. Go away alone and ask our Lord, in the light of what He has shown you. Oh, my dear! It's as plain as the n-n-nose on your f-f-face!" "My father says I'm utterly unstable and always changing my mind." "That's not t-t-true. See here: I know exactly what's happened to you." "What?" "You began, as a boy, by turning to our Lord with all the love of which your heart was capable. You vowed to be His lover. And He weighed you, looked you through and through, and accepted you. Step by step He led you on. He showed you new things about Himself as you were ready to bear them. He trusted you. He never left you. And now at last, He has shown you Himself in His Church. You know He's there. I believe, in your heart of hearts, you have faith. And you hang back because you are afraid. You ought to be a Catholic. You ought to be a religious, a R-Redemptorist, I think. You're stamped and marked out for it. There! I've never said as much to anyone. God help you." He ended abruptly, utterly earnest, and stared at the fire, stretching a hand out to it. "I shall break my father's heart. How can I?" cried Paul, all the bitter agony of days at home and hours of prayer, sweeping down upon him. The priest made a gesture. "Excuses. You know that too. 'He that loveth father or mother more than Me...' And would you break His heart?" "It's so cruel, so awfully hard." "Of course it's cruel. Wasn't the Cross cruel? Do you think Christianity is a d-drawing-room g-game? It's fire. It's a sword. It's death or life. Good Lord, what else has it been from the first martyr to the last, yesterday? And you k-k-know it." "It's more than I can bear," the boy burst out. "It's n-n-not," stuttered the priest instantly. "Our Lord never offers anyone a heavier cross than he can b-b-bear." The passion of the declaration silenced Paul. But only for a few seconds. Then the full force of what it would mean to his people overcame him. "You don't know my father," he half whispered. "He says he would rather see me dead. Oh, he says terrible things! Father, he will see nothing, nothing. And he always harps on the strain of my past religious experiences. I deny them, he says, if I become a Catholic." "You do no such thing. What does he himself think, for example, happened at your Communions? He thinks Christ came to you spiritually and fed your s-s-soul with His S-Spirit. And so He did. The Church doesn't deny that. The Church says you will receive something within her that outside they do not even pretend to give. You are not asked to deny one whit of the past. And you know that too."