"He punishes the guilty only."
"Having himself decreed their guilt! In the face of that decree there is no human guilt. Even marriage, that most hideous of all crimes, does not merit endless suffering——"
"You insist that all are damned; you rave. Nobody asserts that all are damned."
"'He hath chosen some to eternal life and foreordained the rest to dishonor and wrath.' Yet if there were but a single soul to suffer; if but one solitary creature of all the millions of men were doomed to dwell in hell forever—the knowledge that your child, Leonard, might be that lonely one—surely such knowledge——"
He ground his teeth. She drew texts from the source he had declared to be the living truth. He had no answer; there was no answer.
"Leave me," he whispered, in a tone that evidenced his fury better than a roar of rage. Again he hid his face in his hands. She often turned to look at him as she slowly withdrew, but he did not raise his head.
He wrestled fiercely with his emotions and with the problem that fate had raised. At times rage consumed his soul, and his thoughts rioted in brutal instigation, which even then he feared, and of which he was ashamed. At moments he hated, at moments he loved, but hating or loving, the seductive charms of the woman swayed before his eyes, mocking him as the mirage mocks the fainting pilgrim. Hours passed and he remained in the same attitude, striving to estimate the situation correctly, so that he could evolve a remedy. He could not deny her reasoning; he would not give up his faith. His mind, rigid from the training to which it had been subjected, was incapable of readily admitting new theories; and his best nourished and most vigorous attribute was involved. Whether his integrity could be bent or not, it was certain that his vanity would not submit. No! He would not deny his faith. He would enforce his rights.
But not without further effort at persuasion. He made a heroic and worthy resolve. He would be patient still, meanwhile using every gentle measure. He would enlist Mrs. Joe in his cause. She was a matron, shrewd and too well balanced to allow religious notions to carry her to fanatical extremes; and she did not hold his own views, apparently not even as to eternal punishment. Perhaps she would convince Natalie that there was no hell. It would be a lie, but better that his wife believe a lie than that hell reign in his house and in his bosom.
At the dinner hour the maid handed her mistress a note. It ran thus:
"Dear Natalie—I have decided to leave home for a little time. I think we are better apart. If you will open your heart to Mrs. Joe she will explain that which you and I cannot discuss. I learn that you are in your own room, and think it better not to disturb you. Good-bye, for a little time. It may be that I shall not write.
"Leonard."