“You are right, I think,” he said after a long pause. “Happiness and suffering are the only words that have or ought to have any meaning. The rest—it is all a matter of opinion, of taste, of fashion, of anything you please excepting the heart.”
“Constance will tell you that right and wrong are the two important words,” said Grace. “And she will tell you that real happiness consists in being able to distinguish between the two, and that the only suffering lies in confounding the wrong with the right.”
“Does religion mean that we are to feel nothing?” George asked.
“That is what the religion of people who have never felt anything seems to mean. Pay no attention to your sorrows and distrust all your joys, because they are of no importance compared with the welfare of your soul. It matters not who lives or who dies, who is married, or who is betrayed, provided you take care of your soul, of your miserable, worthless, selfish little soul and bring it safe to heaven!”
“That must be an odd sort of religion,” said George.
“It is the religion of those who cannot feel. It is good enough for them. I do not know why I am talking in this way, except that it is a relief to be able to talk to some one who understands. When are you to be married?”
“I hope it may be in November.”
“By-the-bye, what will Mr. Craik think of the marriage? He ought to do something for Mamie, I suppose.”
“Mr. Craik is my own familiar enemy,” said George. “I never take into consideration what he is likely to do or to leave undone. He will do what seems right in his own eyes, and that will very probably seem wrong in the eyes of others.”
“Mrs. Trimm doubtless knows best what can be done with him. What did Constance say, when you told her of your engagement?”