"I was with him until late, one night, a week before his death," was the reply; "and our conversation may have inspired the thoughts he has expressed here; but I cannot say with certainty, that it did. If this temper of spirit and heart was habitual to him, what may we not hope?"
"If!" exclaimed Ida, sadly. "Doubt is agonizing. It is not consistent with God's mercy that he should be consigned to never ending misery; he whose faults made us love him better; the soul of honor and integrity! I will not believe that so much that was pure and good is quenched in eternal darkness. This thought is with me night and day. What authority have men, his inferiors by nature—hardly his equals in the practice of virtue, to doom him, and hope a happier fate for the themselves?"
"Who has done this?" asked Mr. Lacy, sternly.
"More than one, in my hearing; and Charley was exasperated to insult a man, a church member, who exhorted him not 'to imitate his example, and thereby meet the same awful punishment.' Charley regrets now, that he spoke rudely to one his senior, and whom he had hitherto respected, but says he, 'a Christian should not forget that he is a man!'"
"Nor does he," replied Morton. "From some who cross the river of Death we hear the 'All's Well,' when their feet touch the solid ground; then we may rejoice in the confident assurance that we shall meet them again. As many pass over in timid, as in despairing silence;—timidity, exchanged for rapture, on the bright shore beyond. God only knows the heart—only knows when the doomed oversteps the bounds He has appointed for his mercy; and as we hope for it ourselves, we should tremble at the thought of limiting it by our finite judgments. In this immeasurable love and pity is our trust, Ida; doubts and fearings cannot solve the mystery; we know this, however—'He doth not afflict willingly,' and 'remembereth our feeble frame.' Who pardons a child's faults more than a parent? and 'Our Father' is also his. Yet," continued he, "Charley erred in repulsing the warning, kindly, if injudiciously extended. The suffering we experience in our uncertainty as to his condition, should teach us to make our salvation sure, so that when our hour shall come—if a call at midnight, we may not leave those who love us, comfortless."
"His death has caused a heart-rending void," said Ida. "I start whenever the door opens at the hours he was accustomed to visit us. At Mr. Dana's, I am listening all the time for his step or voice. Oh! why do nonentities, cumberers of the earth, spin out a tiresome life, and the loved and useful perish?"
"Perhaps they are taken away from the evil to come. You would not rebel if you believed this? At best, what are the short years of toil and change we pass below, compared with the never-ending life of our heavenly home?"
"You forget that I have no portion in that home, Mr. Lacy."
"No portion! You do not mean to refuse an inheritance so graciously offered! It may be long before we have another opportunity to speak of these things; will you make me a promise?"
"If I can perform it," answered she.