“I do not want to unsettle you,” Ian said; “but of one thing I feel sure,—that God would never deal harshly with a child that believed what it had been taught. When we get older it is different, just as it is in the other responsibilities of life. That is largely why we are put here in this world,—to learn to think for ourselves and take up responsibilities: things are not made too easy for us, or we should not have the high honour that God has given us of largely building our own characters,—of making ourselves.”
Aline sat quiet and thoughtful for some time. “Master Menstrie,” she said at length, “I am not so very young now and I think that I should like to begin to know something about these things.”
“You have not read the Bible, I suppose,” said Ian.
“No, it is wicked to read the Bible.”
“Why?”
“The priests say so.”
“But how do you know that they are right? After all, what is the Bible? It is the word of God, and although even the Bible was written by human beings, it is largely the words of our Lord himself and the writings of people who actually knew him or lived in that very time.”
Ian talked to her for some time, and then Aline said that she would like to read the Bible.
“There is no reason why you should not,” he said, “but you must remember that you are undertaking a great responsibility, and that though it may bring great joy and comfort, it will be the beginning of sorrow too, and you are very young,” he added, looking at her wistfully. “I have a little English translation of the New Testament,” he went on after a pause, “which I can lend you, but Audry was telling me the other day that you could read Greek.”
“Oh, only easy Greek,” said Aline. “I have read some of Aesop and that is quite easy, but father and I used to read Homer together and that was delightful although more difficult.”