“Go on, then, but don’t—don’t fatigue yourself.”
“Listen, then, my darling girl: You and I are diametrically opposed to each other on the subject of this civil war, are we not?”
“Yes, yes; more’s the pity.”
“So say I, ‘More’s the pity.’ And yet, diametrically opposed as we are, we are each of us true to our firmest convictions of duty, are we not?”
“I truly believe so,” admitted Elfie.
“And so far each of us is right. We are both right in adhering to what we conscientiously believe to be our duty.”
Elfie was puzzled and silenced. Goldsborough went on.
“We should either of us be very wrong to give up our honest convictions of duty merely to please the other.”
Elfie was still perplexed and dumb-foundered.
“Listen, my darling. In the old days of intolerance, religious persecution was the great madness. The one Christian sect that happened to be dominant persecuted all other Christian sects, and for the glory of God, roasted them alive; and the other Christian sects, still for the glory of God submitted to be roasted, and hoped for the crown of martyrdom. But by and by the tables would be turned, and the dominant sect would be down and some other sect would be up and the persecutors would become the persecuted, and the roasters the roasted. And again, whatever was done or suffered on either hand was for the sake of conscience and for the glory of God. Now, Elfie, in the face of such facts as history gives, when men so honestly differed in such mighty issues that they were ready to sacrifice each other and to yield up their own lives, each in defence of his own peculiar convictions, what have you to say?”