George Holland spoke after a prolonged pause, during which he stared at the white-faced man before him. A smile was upon that white face.
George was deeply affected. He seemed to have stepped out of a world of visions--a world that had a visionary Church, visionary preachers, visionary doctrines--all unsubstantial as words, which are but breath --into a world of realities--such realities as life and death and----
Ah, there were no other realities in existence but the two: life and death.
And Mr. Linton continued smiling.
"You may gather that I wrote to you in order that you may help me to make my soul. What a capital phrase! I didn't do that, Mr. Holland. I have never been sanguine about man and his soul. I know that it doesn't matter much to God what a man thinks about himself or his soul. It really doesn't matter much whether he believes or not that he has a soul: God is the Principle of Right--the Fountain of Justice, and I'm willing to trust myself to God."
"That is true religion, Mr. Linton," said the clergyman.
