Was I to plunge into a new vortex of strife, and make myself a mark for ridicule--worse than hatred--and fight again the weary fight for an unpopular truth?
Must I turn against Materialism, and face the shame of publicly confessing that I had been wrong, misled by intellect to ignore the Soul?
Must I leave the army that had battled for me so bravely, the friends who through all brutality of social ostracism had held me dear and true?
And he, the strongest and truest friend of all, whose confidence I had shaken by my Socialism--must he suffer the pang of seeing his co-worker, his co-fighter, of whom he had been so proud, to whom he had been so generous, go over to the opposing hosts, and leave the ranks of Materialism?
What would be the look in Charles Bradlaugh's eyes when I told him that I had become a Theosophist?
The struggle was sharp and keen, but with none of the anguish of old days in it, for the soldier had now fought many fights and was hardened by many wounds.

And so it came to pass that I went again to Lansdowne Road to ask about the Theosophical Society.

H.P.Blavatsky looked at me piercingly for a moment.

"Have you read the report about me of the Society for Psychical Research ?" "No; I never heard of it, so far as I know." "Go and read it, and if, after reading it, you come back--well." And nothing more would she say on the subject, but branched off to her experiences in many lands.
I borrowed a copy of the Report, read and re-read it.

Quickly I saw how slender was the foundation on which the imposing structure was built.