"Oh, I shall not forget it, sir," she said, almost savagely. "But, it was not generous of you—not generous."
"What wasn't?"
"Swearing me to secrecy. You took advantage of what you conceive to be my honor, my strength of character; and you would have me break his heart by refusing to marry him. You have a far-reaching cruelty."
"Florence—my daughter, you must not say that. You know why I would keep you from marrying him. Have I been a judge all these years, to find that I am now incapable of pronouncing against my own affections and my own flesh and blood? I am broader than that."
"You mean that you are narrower than that. It is noble to shield those whom we love."
"No, it is selfish. You are a woman, and therefore cannot see justice as a man sees it."
"My eyes may not be clear enough to see justice, but they have never beheld a vision to—"
"Don't, Florence—now, please don't. You know how I held him in my heart; you know that no vision could have driven him out. But it is useless to argue. I have knowledge and you have faith. Knowledge is brightest when the eye is opened wide; faith is strongest when the eye is closed."
And thus she replied: "Ignorant faith may save a soul; knowledge alone might damn it."
"Very good and very orthodox, my child; a saying, though, may be orthodox, and yet but graze the outer edge of truth."