"Father!--no!--oh, don't say that! I can't bear it, I can't bear it. Oh, God help us, God help us----" She sank heavily into a chair, her body shaken with sobs. Mr. Kestern moved over, and laid his hand on her shoulder. It was an utterly pathetic gesture that he made, as if, whatever her grief, they were both of them powerless before it. "He's not taken the step yet," he said as one catching at a straw. Then, bitterly, "Or he says not. He wishes to consult us first. But you can read that his mind is made up. They have trapped my boy." Through her tears, his wife asked for the letter to be read. "It's quite short," said Mr. Kestern heavily, as he recrossed the room and seated himself in his chair, and then, with that new bitterness, "short and sweet. You can read between the lines. "'MY DEAR, DEAR FATHER, "'I know that what I am going to say will give you terrible pain, and believe me, it is only after hours of real agony in prayer for light that I have come to something of a decision. Not by the way that I have really come to a decision at all, for I shall take no step, now or at any time, without consulting you first. Please, please, believe that. But I feel I must tell you definitely that it seems to me very likely that I shall make my submission to the Church of Rome.' ('Make his submission!'--do you notice that? Submit to the Devil! Our Paul!) 'I do not love our Lord one whit less than I ever did; indeed I think I love Him more. It is because I love Him that I shall take this step, if I feel it to be finally right. If I go, I shall go because it seems to me to be His Will and that the Catholic Church is His one True Church. I know you will find it all but impossible to understand, but, dear father, for God's sake believe me when I say that I believe I go to Him because He is the Truth and because I believe that that is His Truth.'" "'Truth!' That tissue of lies and Devil's deceits! Oh, the power of the old Enemy! I would never have believed it possible of our boy, the son of our prayers, our Paul. But no son of mine----" "Father, father, don't! For my sake, stop. He won't go--he can't go. You will be able to talk to him. He knows the Word of God too well to be led so awfully astray. Don't get angry, dearest, don't, I beg you. It--it'll pass, this trial. It breaks my heart to see you look like that." "My heart is broken already, I think, Clara. 'His one true Church!' If anyone had told me that Paul, Paul----" "Father, let's pray. God will help us. He won't allow the Devil to take our boy. Let's pray, and trust Him, dearest. He's never failed us yet. Do you remember when Paul was so ill----" And once more, this time together, father and mother cried upon their God. (2)