"Then you are not a believer in total depravity?"
"No. The thing that reconciles us to ourselves and our fellow-beings, is the knowledge that the evil we commit proceeds more from unwisdom than from depravity. Man is far more of a fool than knave."
"I must ask your indulgence, doctor, and pardon for the liberty I have taken in thus catechising you; but as I said, I am emboldened to do so by the great esteem in which I hold you, and respect I entertain for your opinions and judgment. One more question: If this idea of duty, this Moral Law, as you term it, is from God, why is it not the same in all men? A savage can slay treacherously and sleep peacefully afterwards. Is not the moral law the creation of intellect?"
"No, intellect merely unfolds and develops it. The sway of the moral law is in proportion to the quality of the soul and the degree of reason. Its power is diminished in beings of limited reason or imperfect souls; hence, in a savage or a troglodyte it is naturally less than in an enlightened man—and still less in a horse, with its deficient reason and incipient soul," explained the doctor.
Mr. Heath again rose from his seat, paced across the room, and for the first time helped himself to a glass of spirits; then turning to the doctor, expressed, with forced lightness, his thanks for the instructive exposition he had been favored with. At this intimation the doctor took his departure, muttering to himself as he descended the staircase, "Very odd—I wonder what the deuce he wanted to see me for? Wished me to be his father-confessor. Egad! I think he assumed that rôle himself. If he had but asked me to feel his pulse or look at his tongue, I might have clapped a fee down against him. As it is, I have had all my trouble for nothing. That whiskey, though, was excellent—excellent."
Edna had been waiting below to see the doctor, and as he was about opening the street-door to leave, she approached with a look of concern: "Don't you think, doctor, that father is better—don't you see an improvement in him?"
"Yes," replied Dr. Wattletop, cautiously, as he drew on his gloves; "Yes—I think, I—he looks better—rather better."
"Oh thank you, doctor; I'm ever so much obliged to you," replied Edna, joyfully.
"Still, it will be just as well, in case you notice any change in him or new peculiarity, to advise me of it. Good-by."