“No, Uncle; I do not think I could.”
“You may rest assured, my dear, that unless He be an utter Stranger, you will never feel so towards the Lord. When you come to know Him, you must either love or hate Him. You cannot help yourself.”
It almost frightened me to hear my Uncle Drummond say that. It must be such a dreadful thing to go wrong on that road!
“Cary,” he added suddenly, but very softly, “would you find it difficult to love a man who was going to die voluntarily instead of you?”
“I do not see how I could help it, Uncle,” cried I.
“Then how is it,” he asked in the same tone, “that you have any difficulty in loving the Man who has died in your stead?”
I thought a minute.
“Uncle,” I said, “it does not seem real. The other would.”
“In other words, Cary—you do not believe it.”
“Do not believe it!” cried I. “Surely, Uncle, I believe in our Lord! Don’t I say the Creed every Sunday?”