“I was brought up to the church,” said Wingfold at length, playing with his teaspoon, and looking down on the table. “It’s an awful shame such a thing should have been, but I don’t find out that anybody in particular was to blame for it. Things are all wrong that way, in general, I doubt. I pass my examinations with decency, distinguish myself in nothing, go before the bishop, am admitted a deacon, after a year am ordained a priest, and after another year or two of false preaching and of parish work, suddenly find myself curate in charge of a grand old abbey church; but as to what the whole thing means in practical relation with myself as a human being, I am as ignorant as Simon Magus, without his excuse. Do not mistake me. I think I could stand an examination on the doctrines of the church, as contained in the articles, and prayer-book generally. But for all they have done for me, I might as well have never heard of them.” “Don’t be quite sure of that, Mr. Wingfold. At least, they have brought you to inquire if there be anything in them.” “Mr. Polwarth,” returned Wingfold abruptly, “I cannot even prove there is a God!” “But the church of England exists for the sake of teaching Christianity, not proving that there is a God.” “What is Christianity, then?” “God in Christ, and Christ in man.” “What is the use of that if there be no God?” “None whatever.” “Mr. Polwarth, can you prove there is a God?” “No.” “Then if you don’t believe there is a God--I don’t know what is to become of me,” said the curate, in a tone of deep disappointment, and rose to go. “Mr. Wingfold,” said the little man, with a smile and a deep breath as of delight at the thought that was moving in him, “I know him in my heart, and he is all in all to me. You did not ask whether I believed in him, but whether I could prove that there was a God. As well ask a fly, which has not yet crawled about the world, if he can prove that it is round!” “Pardon me, and have patience with me,” said Wingfold, resuming his seat. “I am a fool. But it is life or death to me.” “I would we were all such fools!--But please ask me no more questions; or ask me as many as you will, but expect no answers just yet. I want to know more of your mind first.” “Well, I will ask questions, but press for no answers.--If you cannot prove there is a God, do you know for certain that such a one as Jesus Christ ever lived? Can it be proved with positive certainty? I say nothing of what they call the doctrines of Christianity, or the authority of the church, or the sacraments, or anything of that sort. Such questions are at present of no interest to me. And yet the fact that they do not interest me, were enough to prove me in as false and despicable a position as ever man found himself occupying--as arrant a hypocrite and deceiver as any god-personating priest in the Delphic temple.--I had rather a man despised than excused me, Mr. Polwarth, for I am at issue with myself, and love not my past.”