The
more he read in this spirit the more the balance seemed to lie in favour
of unbelief, till, in the end, all further doubt became impossible, and
he saw plainly enough that, whatever else might be true, the story that
Christ had died, come to life again, and been carried from earth through
clouds into the heavens could not now be accepted by unbiassed people. It
was well he had found it out so soon. In one way or another it was sure
to meet him sooner or later. He would probably have seen it years ago if
he had not been hoodwinked by people who were paid for hoodwinking him.
What should he have done, he asked himself, if he had not made his
present discovery till years later when he was more deeply committed to
the life of a clergyman? Should he have had the courage to face it, or
would he not more probably have evolved some excellent reason for
continuing to think as he had thought hitherto? Should he have had the
courage to break away even from his present curacy?
He thought not, and knew not whether to be more thankful for having been
shown his error or for having been caught up and twisted round so that he
could hardly err farther, almost at the very moment of his having
discovered it.
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