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elief； in dangerous places of doubt and questioning； but he had left his wife and children safe and secure in the self…satisfaction of orthodoxy。 To none of them except to Eleanor had he ever talked with any freedom of his new apprehensions of religious reality。 And that had been at Eleanor's initiative。 There was； he saw now； something of insolence and something of treachery in this concealment。 His ruling disposition throughout the crisis had been to force comfort and worldly well…being upon all those dependants even at the price of his own spiritual integrity。 In no way had he consulted them upon the bargain。。。。 While we have pottered； each for the little good of his own family； each for the lessons and clothes and leisure of his own children； assenting to this injustice； conforming to that dishonest custom； being myopically benevolent and fundamentally treacherous； our accumulated folly has achieved this catastrophe。 It is not so much human wickedness as human weakness that has permitted the youth of the world to go through this hell of blood and mud and fire。 The way to the kingdom of God is the only way to the true safety； the true wellbeing of the children of men。。。。
It wasn't fair to them。 But now he saw how unfair it was to them in a light that has only shone plainly upon European life since the great interlude of the armed peace came to an end in August； 1914。 Until that time it had been the fashion to ignore death and evade poverty and necessity for the young。 We can shield our young no longer； death has broken through our precautions and tender evasionsand his eyes went eastward into the twilight that had swallowed up his daughter and her lover。
The tumbled darkling sky； monstrous masses of frowning blue； with icy gaps of cold light； was like the great confusions of the war。 All our youth has had to go into that terrible and destructive chaosbecause of the kings and churches and nationalities sturdier…souled men would have set aside。
Everything was sharp and clear in his mind now。 Eleanor after all had brought him his solution。
He sat quite still for a little while； and then stood up and turned northward towards Notting Hill。
The keepers were closing Kensington Gardens； and he would have to skirt the Park to Victoria Gate and go home by the Bayswater Road。。。。
（14）
As he walked he rearranged in his mind this long…overdue apology for his faith that he was presently to make to his family。 There was no one to interrupt him and nothing to embarrass him； and so he was able to set out everything very clearly and convincingly。 There was perhaps a disposition to digress into rather voluminous subordinate explanations； on such themes； for instance； as sacramentalism； whereon he found himself summarizing Frazer's Golden Bough； which the Chasters' controversy had first obliged him to read； and upon the irrelevance of the question of immortality to the process of salvation。 But the reality of his eclaircissement was very different from anything he prepared in these anticipations。
Tea had been finished and put away； and the family was disposed about the dining…room engaged in various evening occupations； Phoebe sat at the table working at some mathematical problem； Clementina was reading with her chin on her fist and a frown on her brow； Lady Ella； Miriam and Daphne were busy making soft washing cloths for the wounded； Lady Ella had brought home the demand for them from the Red Cross centre in Burlington House。 The family was all downstairs in the dining…room because the evening was chilly； and there were no fires upstairs yet in the drawing…room。 He came into the room and exchanged greetings with Lady Ella。 Then he stood for a time surveying his children。 Phoebe； he noted； was a little flushed； she put passion into her work； on the whole she was more like Eleanor than any other of them。 Miriam knitted with a steady skill。 Clementina's face too expressed a tussle。 He took up one of the rough…knit washing…cloths upon the side…table； and asked how many could be made in an hour。 Then he asked some idle obvious question about the fire upstairs。 Clementina made an involuntary movement； he was disturbing her。 He hovered for a moment longer。 He wanted to catch his wife's eye and speak to her first。 She looked up； but before he could convey his wish for a private conference with her； she smiled at him and then bent over her work again。
He went into the back study and lit his gas fire。 Hitherto he had always made a considerable explosion when he did so； but this time by taking thought and lighting his match before he turned on the gas he did it with only a gentle thud。 Then he lit his reading…lamp and pulled down the blindpausing for a time to look at the lit dressmaker's opposite。 Then he sat down thoughtfully before the fire。 Presently Ella would come in and he would talk to her。 He waited a long time； thinking only weakly and inconsecutively； and then he became restless。 Should he call her？
But he wanted their talk to begin in a natural…seeming way。 He did not want the portentousness of 〃wanting to speak〃 to her and calling her out to him。 He got up at last and went back into the other room。 Clementina had gone upstairs； and the book she had been reading was lying closed on the sideboard。 He saw it was one of Chasters' books； he took it up； it was 〃The Core of Truth in Christianity；〃 and he felt an irrational shock at the idea of Clementina reading it。 In spite of his own immense changes of opinion he had still to revise his conception of the polemical Chasters as an evil influence in religion。 He fidgeted past his wife to the mantel in search of an imaginary mislaid pencil。 Clementina came down with some bandage linen she was cutting out。 He hung over his wife in a way that he felt must convey his desire for a conversation。 Then he picked up Chasters' book again。 〃Does any one want this？〃 he asked。
〃Not if I may have it again；〃 consented Clementina。
He took it back with him and began to read again those familiar controversial pages。 He read for the best part of an hour with his knees drying until they smoked over the gas。 What curious stuff it was！ How it wrangled！ Was Chasters a religious man？ Why did he write these books？ Had he really a passion for truth or only a Swift…like hatred of weakly…thinking people？ None of this stuff in his books was really wrong； provided it was religious… spirited。 Much of it had been indeed destructively illuminating to its reader。 It let daylight through all sorts of walls。 Indeed； the more one read the more vividly true its acid…bit lines became。。。。 And yet； and yet； there was something hateful in the man's tone。 Scrope held the book and thought。 He had seen Chasters once or twice。 Chasters had the sort of face； the sort of voice； the sort of bearing that made one think of his possibly saying upon occasion； rudely and rejoicing； 〃More fool you！〃 Nevertheless Scrope perceived now with an effort of discovery that it was from Chasters that he had taken all the leading ideas of the new faith that was in him。 Here was the stuff of it。 He had forgotten how much of it was here。 During those months of worried study while the threat of a Chasters prosecution hung over him hi