d。　　Each　in　its　turn　had　had　to　be　cleared　away。
  And　yet　was　it　altogether　a　dead　truth：　　this　passionate　belief　in　a　personal　God　who　had　ordered　all　things　for　the　best：　　who　could　be　appealed　to　for　comfort；　for　help？　　Might　it　not　be　as　good　an　explanation　as　any　other　of　the　mystery　surrounding　us？　　It　had　been　so　universal。　　She　was　not　sure　where；　but　somewhere　she　had　come　across　an　analogy　that　had　strongly　impressed　her。　　〃The　fact　that　a　man　feels　thirstythough　at　the　time　he　may　be　wandering　through　the　Desert　of　Saharaproves　that　somewhere　in　the　world　there　is　water。〃　　Might　not　the　success　of　Christianity　in　responding　to　human　needs　be　evidence　in　its　favour？　　The　Love　of　God；　the　Fellowship　of　the　Holy　Ghost；　the　Grace　of　Our　Lord　Jesus　Christ。　　Were　not　all　human　needs　provided　for　in　that　one　comprehensive　promise：　　the　desperate　need　of　man　to　be　convinced　that　behind　all　the　seeming　muddle　was　a　loving　hand　guiding　towards　good；　the　need　of　the　soul　in　its　loneliness　for　fellowship；　for　strengthening；　the　need　of　man　in　his　weakness　for　the　kindly　grace　of　human　sympathy；　of　human　example。
  And　then；　as　fate　would　have　it；　the　first　lesson　happened　to　be　the　story　of　Jonah　and　the　whale。　　Half　a　dozen　shocked　faces　turned　suddenly　towards　her　told　Joan　that　at　some　point　in　the　thrilling　history　she　must　unconsciously　have　laughed。　　Fortunately　she　was　alone　in　the　pew；　and　feeling　herself　scarlet；　squeezed　herself　into　its　farthest　corner　and　drew　down　her　veil。
  No；　it　would　have　to　go。　　A　religion　that　solemnly　demanded　of　grown　men　and　women　in　the　twentieth　century　that　they　should　sit　and　listen　with　reverential　awe　to　a　prehistoric　edition　of　〃Grimm's　Fairy　Stories；〃　including　Noah　and　his　ark；　the　adventures　of　Samson　and　Delilah；　the　conversations　between　Balaam　and　his　ass；　and　culminating　in　what　if　it　were　not　so　appallingly　wicked　an　idea　would　be　the　most　comical　of　them　all：　　the　conception　of　an　elaborately　organized　Hell；　into　which　the　God　of　the　Christians　plunged　his　creatures　for　all　eternity！　　Of　what　use　was　such　a　religion　as　that　going　to　be　to　the　world　of　the　future？
  She　must　have　knelt　and　stood　mechanically；　for　the　service　was　ended。　　The　pulpit　was　occupied　by　an　elderly　uninteresting…looking　man　with　a　troublesome　cough。　　But　one　sentence　he　had　let　fall　had　gripped　her　attention。　　For　a　moment　she　could　not　remember　it；　and　then　it　came　to　her：　　〃All　Roads　lead　to　Calvary。〃　　It　struck　her　as　rather　good。　　Perhaps　he　was　going　to　be　worth　listening　to。　〃To　all　of　us；　sooner　or　later；〃　he　was　saying；　〃comes　a　choosing　of　two　ways：　　either　the　road　leading　to　success；　the　gratification　of　desires；　the　honour　and　approval　of　our　fellow…menor　the　path　to　Calvary。〃
  And　then　he　had　wandered　off　into　a　maze　of　detail。　　The　tradesman；　dreaming　perhaps　of　becoming　a　Whiteley；　having　to　choose　whether　to　go　forward　or　remain　for　all　time　in　the　little　shop。　　The　statesmanshould　he　abide　by　the　faith　that　is　in　him　and　suffer　loss　of　popularity；　or　renounce　his　God　and　enter　the　Cabinet？　　The　artist；　the　writer；　the　mere　labourerthere　were　too　many　of　them。　A　few　well…chosen　examples　would　have　sufficed。　　And　then　that　irritating　cough！
  And　yet　every　now　and　then　he　would　be　arresting。　　In　his　prime；　Joan　felt；　he　must　have　been　a　great　preacher。　　Even　now；　decrepit　and　wheezy；　he　was　capable　of　flashes　of　magnetism；　of　eloquence。　The　passage　where　he　pictured　the　Garden　of　Gethsemane。　　The　fair　Jerusalem；　only　hidden　from　us　by　the　shadows。　　So　easy　to　return　to。　　Its　soft　lights　shining　through　the　trees；　beckoning　to　us；　its　mingled　voices　stealing　to　us　through　the　silence；　whispering　to　us　of　its　well…remembered　ways；　its　pleasant　places；　its　open　doorways；　friends　and　loved　ones　waiting　for　us。　　And　above；　the　rock…strewn　Calvary：　　and　crowning　its　summit；　clear　against　the　starlit　sky；　the　cold；　dark　cross。　　〃Not　perhaps　to　us　the　bleeding　hands　and　feet；　but　to　all　the　bitter　tears。　　Our　Calvary　may　be　a　very　little　hill　compared　with　the　mountains　where　Prometheus　suffered；　but　to　us　it　is　steep　and　lonely。〃
  There　he　should　have　stopped。　　It　would　have　been　a　good　note　on　which　to　finish。　　But　it　seemed　there　was　another　point　he　wished　to　make。　　Even　to　the　sinner　Calvary　calls。　　To　Judaseven　to　him　the　gates　of　the　life…giving　Garden　of　Gethsemane　had　not　been　closed。　　〃With　his　thirty　pieces　of　silver　he　could　have　stolen　away。　　In　some　distant　crowded　city　of　the　Roman　Empire　have　lived　unknown；　forgotten。　　Life　still　had　its　pleasures；　its　rewards。　　To　him　also　had　been　given　the　choice。　　The　thirty　pieces　of　silver　that　had　meant　so　much　to　him！　　He　flings　them　at　the　feet　of　his　tempters。　　They　would　not　take　them　back。　　He　rushes　out　and　hangs　himself。　　Shame　and　death。　　With　his　own　hands　he　will　build　his　own　cross；　none　to　help　him。　　He；　tooeven　Judas；　climbs　his　Calvary。　　Enters　into　the　fellowship　of　those　who　through　all　ages　have　trod　its　stony　pathway。〃
  Joan　waited　till　the　last　of　the　congregation　had　disappeared；　and　then　joined　the　little　pew…opener　who　was　waiting　to　close　the　doors。　　Joan　asked　her　what　she　had　thought　of　the　sermon；　but　Mary　Stopperton；　being　a　little　deaf；　had　not　heard　it。
  〃It　was　quite　goodthe　matter　of　it；〃　Joan　told　her。　　〃All　Roads　lead　to　Calvary。　　The　idea　is　that　there　comes　a　time　to　all　of　us　when　we　have　to　choose。　　Whether；　like　your　friend　Carlyle；　we　will　'give　up　things'　for　our　faith's　sake。　　Or　go　for　the　carriage　and　pair。〃
  Mary　Stopperton　laughed。　　〃He　is　quite　right；　dear；〃　she　said。　　〃It　does　seem　to　come；　and　it　is　so　hard。　　You　have　to　pray　and　pray　and　pray。　　And　even　then　we　cannot　always　do　it。〃　　She　touched　with　her　little　withered　fingers　Joan's　fine　white　hand。　　〃But　you　are　so　strong　and　brave；〃　she　continued；　with　another　little　laugh。　〃It　won't　be　so　difficult　for　you。〃
  It　was　not　until　well　on　her　way　home　that　Joan；　recalling　the　conversation；　found　herself　smiling　at　Mary　Stopperton's　literal　acceptation　of　the　argument。　　At　the　time；　she　remembered；　the　shadow　of　a　fear　had　passed　over　her。
  Mary　Stopperton　did　not　know　the　name　of　the　preacher。　　It　was　quite　common　for　chance　substitutes　to　officiate　there；　especially　in　the　evening。　　Joan　had　insisted　on　her　acceptance　of　a　shilling；　and　had　made　a　note　of　her　address；　feeling　instinctively　that　the　little　old　woman　would　〃come　in　useful〃　from　a　journalistic　point　of　view。
  Shaking　hands　with　her；　she　had　turned　eastward；　intending　to　walk　to　Sloane　Square　and　there　take　the　bus。　　At　the　corner　of　Oakley　Street　she　overtook　him。　　He　was　evidently　a　stranger　to　the　neighbourhood；　and　was　peering　up　through　his　glasses　to　see　the　name　of　the　street；　and　Joan　caught　sight　of　his　face　beneath　a　gas　lamp。
  And　suddenly　it　came　to　her　that　it　was　a　face　she　knew。　　In　the　dim…lit　church　she　had　not　seen　him　clearly。　　He　was　still　peering　upward。　　Joan　stole　another　glance。　　Yes；　she　had　met　him　somewhere。　　He　was　very　changed；　quite　different；　but　she　was　sure　of　it。　　It　was　a　long　time　ago。　　She　must　have　been　quite　a　child。
  CHAPTER　II
  One　of　Joan's　earliest　recollections　was　the　picture　of　herself　standing　before　the　high　cheval　glass　in　her　mother's　dressing…　room。　　Her　clothes　lay　scattered　far　and　wide；　falling　where　she　had　flung　them；　not　a　shred　of　any　kind　of　covering　was　left　to　her。　　She　must　have　been　very　small；　for　she　could　remember　looking　up　and　seeing　high　above　her　head　the　two　brass　knobs　by　which　the　glass　was　fastened　to　its　frame。　　Suddenly；　out　of　the　upper　portion　of　the　glass；　there　looked　a　scared　red　face。　　It　hovered　there　a　moment；　and　over　it　in　swift　succession　there　passed　the　expressions；　first　of　petrified　amazement；　secondly　of　shocked　indignation；　and　thirdly　of　righteous　wrath。　　And　then　it　swooped　down　upon　her；　and　the　image　in　the　glass　became　a　confusion　of　small　naked　arms　and　legs　mingled　with　green　cotton　gloves　and　purple　bonnet　strings。
  〃You　young　imp　of　Satan！〃　demanded　Mrs。　Mundayher　feelings　of　outraged　virtue　exaggerating　perhaps　her　real　sentiments。　　〃What　are　you　doing？〃
  〃Go　away。　　I'se　looking　at　myself；〃　had　explained　Joan；　struggling　furiously　to　regain　the　glass。
  〃But　where　are　your　clothes？〃　was　Mrs。　Munday's　wonder。
  〃I'se　tooked　them　off；〃　explained　Joan。　　A　piece　of　information　that　really；　all　things　considered；　seemed　unnecessary。
  〃But　can't　you　see　yourself；　you　wicked　child；　without　stripping　yourself　as　naked　as　you　were　born？〃
  〃No；〃　maintained　Joan　stoutly。　　〃I　hate　clothes。〃　　As　a　matter　of　fact　she　didn't；　even　in　those　early　days。　　On　the　contrary；　one　of　her　favourite　amusements　was　〃dressing　up。〃　　This　sudden　overmastering　desire　to　arrive　at　the　truth　about　herself　had　been　a　new　conceit。
  〃I　wanted　to　see　myself。　　Clothes　ain't　me；〃　was　all　she　would　or　could　vouchsafe；　and　Mrs。　Munday　had　shook　her　head；　and　had　freely　confessed　that　there　were　things　beyond　her　and　that　Joan　was　one　of　them；　and　had　succeeded；　partly　by　force；　partly　by　persuasion；　in　restoring　to　Joan　once　more　the　semblance　of　a　Christian　child。
  It　was　Mrs。　Munday；　poor　soul；　who　all　unconsciously　had　planted　the　seeds　of　disbelief　in　Joan's　mind。　　Mrs。