There was no answer to that.
"You seem very strong and patient!" I said at last. "I think I rather like you, and I am sure that I trust you; but you irritate me, and you will not explain. Cannot you help me a little? You seem to me to be out of sight—the other side of a wall. Cannot you break it down or look over?"
"You would not like that," said the voice; "it would be inconvenient, even painful; it would upset your plans very much. Tell me—you like life, do you not?"
"Yes," I said, "I like life—at least I am very much interested in it. I do not feel sure if I like it; I think you know that better than I do. Tell me, do I like it?"
"Yes," said the voice; "at least I do. You have guessed right for once; it matters more what I like than what you like. You see, I believe in God, for one thing."
"So do I," I said eagerly. "I have reached that point! I am sure He is there. It is largely a question of argument, and I have really no doubt, no doubt at all. There are difficulties of course— difficulties about personality and intention; and then there is the origin of evil—I have thought much about that, and I have arrived at a solution; it is this. I can explain it best by an analogy. . . ."
There came a laugh from the other side of the wall, not a scornful laugh or an idle laugh, but a laugh kind and compassionate, like a father with a child on his knee; and the voice said, "I have seen Him—I see Him! He is here all about us, and He is yonder. He is not coming to meet us, as you think. . . . Dear me, how young you must be. . . . I had forgotten."
This struck me dumb for an instant; then I said, "You frighten me!
Who are you, what are you, . . . WHERE are you?"
And then the voice said, in a tone of the deepest and sweetest love, as if surprised and a little pained, "My child!"
And then I heard it no more; and I went back to my cares and anxieties. But it was as the voice had said, and when the time came to decide, I had no doubt at all what to do.