She died loving you. I want to send you to her, my lord. You
will allow that, as a gentleman, you at least owe her an apology."
"By Jove, you are right, sir! Then you really and positively believe
in the place they call heaven?"
"My lord, I believe that those who open their hearts to the truth
shall see the light on their friends' faces again, and be able to set
right what was wrong between them."
"It's a week too late to talk of setting right."
"Go and tell her you are sorry, my lord--that will be enough for her."
"Ah! but there's more than her concerned."
"You are right, my lord. There is another--One who cannot be satisfied
that the fairest works of his hands, or rather the loveliest children
of his heart, should be treated as you have treated women."
"But the Deity you talk of--"
"I beg your pardon, my lord: I talked of no deity. I talked of a
living Love that gave us birth and calls us his children. Your deity I
know nothing of."
"Call Him what you please: _He_ won't be put off so easily."
"He won't be put off, one jot or one tittle. He will forgive anything,
but He will pass nothing. Will your wife forgive you?"
"She will, when I explain."
"Then why should you think the forgiveness of God, which created her
forgiveness, should be less?"
Whether the marquis could grasp the reasoning may be doubtful.
"Do you really suppose God cares whether a man comes to good or ill?"
"If He did not, He could not be good Himself.
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