"Assuredly I believe there is a heaven, but not that there is a hell hereafter."
She pondered over the words. "A hell hereafter! Why the 'hereafter,' dear?"
"Because I have a firm conviction that we may suffer hell in this life, but not in the next."
"A hell in this life! That would be awful. We will not suffer it, love."
"I trust not, sincerely."
"'Trust not!' You mean you are sure we shall not, surely."
"I am sure we shall not, Barbara."
I was as wax in her hands, standing, so to speak, forever on the edge of a precipice of her creating, and compelled to the utterance of sentiments to which I could not conscientiously subscribe, in order to escape the wreck of a possible happiness.
"That I believe in hell fire and you do not," she said, thoughtfully, "shall not be a cause of difference between us. Everybody thinks his own ideas of religion are right. Perhaps bye and bye I will try to convert you, and if you feel very strongly on the subject of hell you shall try to convert me. Which do you think worse—a hell in this life, or a hell in the next?"
"I have never considered it. Don't let us worry ourselves about theological matters during our honeymoon."