"In what way rendered?" asked Guy, after a pause.
"Oh, in our enjoyment and happiness, our appreciative instincts, of course. What gives pleasure and makes happiness for His creatures must derive its own reward in the bestowal."
"That is to say that my satisfaction in good health, in the enjoyment of plenty, in a beautiful landscape, is God's reward for creating such agreeable things, and that He requires from me no further acknowledgment?—I am worshipping acceptably in receiving and enjoying?"
"It is not just the way I would put it," said the young tutor; "but let it stand if you like."
"It is the plain English of your statement," said Guy; "and suppose for the moment it is granted. It is only one side of things. Take the other side, in things great or small. A frightful storm that wrecks ships of all sizes on our shores, and makes hundreds of widows and orphans in a night; an earthquake that swallows up the good and bad alike; the sickness that wastes, the poverty that crushes, the deformity that revolts, the tears of bitterness that fall on many an innocent face, what then of your fanciful ideal of God? How do His attributes of benevolence and beauty stand in such a contrast? Who enjoys, who has satisfaction in such scenes? Who renders worship then to Him who is so beautiful and good?"
"I cannot, of course, enter at once into proofs from natural philosophy that would meet your argument so far as the laws of nature are concerned, but doubtless it can be met. The moral objections are more difficult to understand and deal with, but I think reason suggests that out of such seeming ills some hidden good evolves, which, if we knew it, would vindicate benevolence and goodness to our satisfaction."
"You have come to my armoury for that weapon to parry my thrust," said Guy; "you take that view by faith, and you know it is written in the Book of Truth; your mere reason could not have discovered it, and I claim the credit where it is due."
"I cannot help it if our different schools of thought bring us to the same conclusion," said the stranger, affecting to laugh. "Your Book of Truth ought not to contradict my reason."
"It explains and reconciles what mere reason cannot reach," said Guy; "and when pressed by facts, your ideal a Deity snatches a ray from the source of Light and Truth, which only makes your darkness more visible; but error is not scrupulous."
"Upon my word, I was not prepared for this encounter," said the stranger, gaily; "I usually let people think as they please, for it is not worth while to disturb them, and I always give them credit for intending to think and act for the best."