"Yes, sir."
"And without any fault of his own suffers horribly," continued the lawyer, sternly.
"We are all faulty, sir."
"I mean—did anybody ever hear such reasoning! Excuse me, but I am a little out of sorts," he growled, apologetically—"I mean that you may suppose a man to suffer some peculiar torture—torture, you understand—which he has not deserved. I suppose that has happened; how can such a man have your faith, and love, and trust, and all that—if we must talk theology!" growled the bearish speaker.
"But, Mr. Rushton," said Redbud, "is not heaven worth all the world and its affections?"
"Yes—your heaven is."
"My heaven—?"
"Yes, yes—heaven!" cried the lawyer, impatiently—"everybody's heaven that chooses. But you were about to say—"
"This, sir: that if heaven is so far above earth, and those who are received there by God, enjoy eternal happiness—"
"Very well!"